"It must be the location," Cato said. They rode just behind Norbanus, ahead of the standard bearers. "To the east is just more of that desert. They live on this narrow coastal strip. That means that any army that wants to get to Egypt and Libya and northern Africa has to pass through here. Likewise, Egyptian or Carthaginian armies headed for Syria have to pass through here. There's no place else to go, except by sea."
"It must make life interesting here every few years," Niger said.
Late that day they came within sight of the city. Once it would have impressed them, but after the splendors of Carthage and Alexandria, it looked small and shabby. The acropolis pointed out to them as Temple Mount was the only feature that seemed comparable to. the greater cities.
An army was drawn up between them and the city.
"Battle order, Commander?" Niger said.
"I estimate their numbers at less than six thousand," Norbanus said. "This is no more than a gesture-all that the local king could scrape together on short notice." He looked around at the countryside. Most of it was open fields, well cultivated. Like most towns in this part of the world, it owed its location to a reliable and abundant water source. "Find the nearest spring and pitch camp. I'll parley with the locals."
"You're not going to leave the army and put yourself in the hands of foreigners, are you?" Niger said.
"I'm not a fool. I'll take the cavalry with me and halt a good distance from them. Then they can come to me." He gestured to his mounted trumpeter and the man blew a succession of notes on his lituus: a straight horn with its funnel bent back sharply. It was so named for its resemblance to the crook-topped augur's staff, and it was used only by the cavalry. At the signal, the small cavalry force detached from its flanking duties and rode forward to attend the general.
Norbanus looked them over before proceeding. Romans were notoriously poor cavalrymen. These were mostly wellborn young men, mainly of Gallic descent and some of them sons of allied chieftains who lacked Roman citizenship. Their equipment was more ornate than that of the legionaries but resembled it in most details except for their flat, oval shields, their longer swords and the short mail capes reinforcing the shoulders of their armor. They carried lances instead of javelins.
"Dust yourselves off and mount your plumes," Norbanus ordered. "We're going to call on a foreign king."
The men did as ordered, chasing the road grime from their armor and taking the fragile feathers and the horsehair crests from the boxes tied behind their saddles. They were too delicate and valuable for everyday wear and were reserved for parade and battle, where the display was esteemed as intimidating to the enemy. When the commander deemed their glitter to be sufficient, they rode forward, toward the native force before the city.
They halted well out of bowshot and waited. After a few minutes, a small delegation rode out from the army opposite. They were well turned out, their equipment mostly of Greek design, which was fashionable everywhere, it seemed. They reined up a hundred paces away and a man in splendid armor rode forward alone.
"Who are you?" he said in Greek, "and what are your intentions? You trespass outrageously on the domain of King Jonathan of Judea. I demand to speak with your commander." His accent was very different from that of the local people when they spoke Greek. This one spoke like Greek was his native tongue. Norbanus read him for a Greek mercenary. He had encountered many such since arriving in the Mediterranean world.
"I am Proconsul Titus Norbanus of Rome, and I am the commander of the army you see before you. We intend harm to no one here and wish only to pass through this land. However, as Proconsul of Rome, I must deal directly with your king."
"You are commander and you come to parley in person? Most irregular."
"Romans do things differently from most people. Kindly let your king know that I would speak with him. As you see," he waved an arm behind him without looking, "my men are not preparing for battle. They are encamping." The man could not know how incredibly swift the legions were at going from encampment to battle order, and Norbanus had no intention of informing him. Best to lull people into confidence until it was too late.
The man eyed the Roman army. Men had stacked their shields against their spears, hung their helmets from the shafts. They had their spades and pickaxes out and were digging. Some hauled baskets of earth. They looked more like armored farmers than soldiers.
"I will go speak to His Majesty. He may summon you to a conference."
"Roman proconsuls are not summoned by anyone. He can ride out here to speak with me and he will. I will erect a tent on this spot for our meeting."
The mercenary snorted. "A king does not come from his palace to meet with a foreign general."
"Your king will. He'll have heard of Rome by now. He'll be eager to meet with me. Go tell him I await him here."
The Greek rode off. Norbanus sent orders for his praetorium to be brought out and erected. His commanders grumbled that the traditional location for the praetorium was inside the camp, but their general was adamant. They set up the fine tent and before it erected a raised dais and upon it set his curule chair, draped with animal pelts. To either side of the chair were the shrines of his four legions and behind him stood the standard bearers of those legions, their heads and shoulders draped with skins of lion, wolf and bear, the aquilifers holding the four eagles, the signifers of the lesser formations with their animal standards. The approach to the praetorium was flanked on both sides by an honor guard of cavalry, now polished up to their full brilliance.
On the dais to both sides of him stood his senior commanders and the tribunes and legati in charge of the individual legions and the auxilia. There had been objections to this. Many had pointed out that it was folly to separate the entire senior staff from the legions, leaving them vulnerable to treachery by unknown foreigners. Norbanus had asserted that the cavalry would be adequate to extricate them from any situation likely to arise and that he anticipated not hostility, but a proposal of alliance. His subordinates were unconvinced, but they were Romans and they obeyed.
When a mounted party approached from the small host opposite them, all but Norbanus assumed that it was but another officer sent to make arrangements for the king's arrival. In the lead was a man on a splendid white horse and behind him rode a half dozen elders and an honor guard of no more than twenty horsemen in Greek gear, one of them bearing a standard tipped by a six-pointed star.
"How long are they going to keep us waiting?" Cato said. "We are prepared to receive royalty, not some flunky."
"I think this is the king," Norbanus said. "And I must say that I like his style."
"It's effective," Niger said grudgingly. "He can't hope to overawe us with a display of military might, so he rides in looking casual and confident." Others nodded and agreed. Every officer there was not only a military professional but a seasoned politician and veteran of the law courts and the voting enclosures. They had been drilled in the rhetorical arts as rigorously as with the sword, and they appreciated a clever, impressive display.
Head high, as if without a care in the world, the man rode between the guardsmen, who dipped their lances in unison. He nodded graciously to either side in acknowledgment of the salute. Drawing rein before the dais, he dismounted immediately, not waiting for an equerry. A Roman slave stepped forward to take charge of his horse and the man strode to the dais.
His robe was white, girded by a golden sash. His long coat was white as well and he wore soft, red boots with upturned, pointed toes. He was a handsome man of about thirty years, with aquiline features. His hair was cut in the fashionable Greek style but his short beard was dressed in small, tight ringlets in the Eastern fashion. His only weapon was a long dagger thrust through his sash. He halted before the steps and touched a hand to his breast, inclining his head very slightly.