Centurion (38 page)

Macro rose to his feet and bowed his head briefly towards the king. ‘Very well then.’ He looked round the room before he spoke, to make sure that he had everyone’s attention. Most of those in the hall were as tired as he was, and had been engaged in fighting the fires or, like Balthus, defending the walls. Macro cleared his throat and began. ‘Gentlemen, we are facing some tough decisions. Decisions we need to make and act on immediately.’

‘Why?’ Krathos interrupted. ‘What’s happened?’

‘I’m coming to that,’ Macro replied testily. ‘If you would do me the courtesy of listening . . .’

Krathos frowned and sat back in his chair, crossed his arms and nodded his assent.

‘Thank you. As some of you already know, the enemy’s incendiaries burned down the grain store last night. We’ve salvaged what we can, but with the limited supplies of water that remain my second-in-command, Prefect Cato, has calculated that on current ration levels we will be out of supplies within two days. Less if the rebels hit us with another barrage of incendiaries tonight. All the remaining water will need to be used to fight the fires. Even then, we will run dry before the fires are extinguished. Of course, we can cut the grain and water issue even further, but that will give us a few days’ grace at best, and our men will be in a much weakened state if they are called on to defend the citadel.’

Macro paused to let his words sink in, and then Thermon asked, ‘What are our options, Centurion?’

‘They’re fairly straightforward.’ Macro counted them off on his fingers. ‘One: we negotiate a surrender. Two: we cut the rations and continue to resist for as long as we can, and then surrender, or go down fighting.’

‘We cannot surrender,’ said Balthus. ‘Artaxes and his followers would kill the king, me, and most of us here. We must fight on.’

‘Wait.’ Krathos raised his hand. ‘The Roman said we could negotiate a surrender.We could try to get good terms. Prince Artaxes knows that it will cost him a great many men to take the citadel by force. If we were to surrender, and leave the kingdom to him to dispose of as he wills, then surely he would be prepared to let us leave here alive. Some of us, at least.’

‘You, perhaps?’ Balthus did not try to hide his scorn. ‘I think you know what fate my dear brother has in mind for me. I don’t think I will surrender, thank you.’

‘What then?’ Krathos countered. ‘We stay in here and starve to death?’

‘No.’ Balthus shook his head and turned back to Macro. ‘There is a third choice, Roman.’

‘I know that,’ Macro replied. ‘I just wanted to see what people made of the first two.’

‘Third choice?’ the king said slowly. ‘What’s that? Speak, Centurion.’

‘Your Majesty, we could send the civilians out of the citadel and use the extra rations to try to hold out until

General Longinus arrives. But if the supplies run out before then, we’re back to the first two choices.’

There was a brief silence as the others digested this, and then Krathos shook his head. ‘They would be massacred, surely?’

‘It’s possible,’ Macro conceded. ‘But they’ll die anyway if they remain in the citadel. Starvation will get them if the enemy doesn’t storm the place first, in which case they’ll be slaughtered along with the rest of us. So, they die in here with us, or take their chances out there in the city. At least their sacrifice can buy us a few extra days.’

Krathos pursed his lips briefly. ‘I see. Perhaps it is for the best.’

‘Easy for you to say,’ Balthus responded coldly, and then there was a glint in his eye.’Of course, it would be necessary to rid ourselves of all the civilians, so that the food goes as far as possible amongst the remaining soldiers. Isn’t that right, Centurion?’

Macro nodded.

‘In which case we would have to dispense with all non-essential people, like the king’s slaves, the Roman ambassador and his retinue, and nobles like you, Krathos.’

‘Me?’ Krathos pressed his hand against his heart. ‘Preposterous! I am one of His Majesty’s most loyal subjects. My place is at his side.’

‘Oh, and what good are you there? Can you shoot a bow? Can you wield a spear or sword as well as a soldier? Well?’

‘That is not the issue,’ Krathos blustered. ‘His Majesty needs good advisers.When this is all over, the kingdom will need good men to help rebuild law and order and revive trade and business.’

Balthus shook his head. ‘What the king needs now is fighters, not fat merchants like you.’

‘How dare you?’ Krathos stood up indignantly.

‘Enough!’The king slammed his fist down on the arm of his throne and his voice echoed back off the high walls of the chamber. The others instantly fell silent. Vabathus drew a calming breath and continued steadily. ‘There is no question of ejecting any of my nobles from the citadel. Nor any of the Romans. If we did that then the full fury of Rome would be visited on us the moment they got to hear of the act. We have no choice but to accept the third option offered to us by the centurion. It is the best chance I have of defending my throne. The people must be sacrificed.’

Thermon turned towards the king with a pained expression.

‘What is the matter?’ asked Vabathus.

‘Your Majesty, we all know the probable outcome of throwing the people on the mercy of the rebels, but many of them are the families of our soldiers. What will they say when they are told?’ Thermon gestured to the four men guarding the king. All eyes turned on the guardsmen who, true to their profession and training, did not show any reaction.

Balthus broke the awkward silence. ‘Then we must proceed carefully. The men with families must be confined to barracks while the civilians are rounded up and escorted out of the citadel.’

‘What if they don’t want to leave?’ asked Cato. ‘What if they refuse?’

‘We will have to use force,’ Balthus replied. ‘Desperate times require desperate actions, Roman.’

‘I know that.’ Cato thought quickly. ‘But we must try to negotiate terms with Artaxes for their safe passage. They deserve nothing less from us.’

‘Fine sentiments, Roman, but why would Artaxes negotiate? He has nothing to gain from us.’

‘There is one thing we can offer him that he will find difficult to resist.’ The other men in the chamber stared at him expectantly and Cato swallowed nervously as he explained his thinking.

At noon the gates of the citadel opened and Cato stepped outside into the agora. He carried no weapons, and neither did the two men who accompanied him. One auxiliary carried a bucina and blew a steady series of notes as they advanced; the other man carried a large red banner that could easily be seen from the rebel lines. The small party marched thirty paces and halted in full view of both the defenders and the rebels curiously watching them from the wall of the merchants’ yards. He swallowed nervously and wondered briefly about the wisdom of his action.There was still time to turn and run back to safety. But then there was a dull thud as the gates swung back into place, leaving Cato and his men no choice but to carry on.

They marched another thirty paces and halted, the bucina’s shrill notes echoing back off the citadel walls. The man carrying the standard slowly swirled it in the air so that it was clearly visible. They moved forward again, stopping just short of the wall of the merchants’ yards. A figure appeared above them, one of Artaxes’ officers, Cato decided, judging from the fine scale armour and accoutrements.

‘No closer, Roman!’ the man called out in Greek. ‘What do you want?’

‘I wish to speak to Prince Artaxes.’

‘Why?’

Cato smiled at the man’s directness. ‘I will not speak to his minion. Only to the prince himself.’

The rebel officer scowled for a moment and then pointed at Cato. ‘Stay there, Roman. Move from that spot and my archers will shoot you down like dogs!’

‘Very well.’

The rebel officer ducked out of sight and Cato and his companions were left staring at the enemy soldiers lining the wall and talking in excited tones as they tried to guess what the Roman emissary wanted with their prince. The man with the standard was still waving it from side to side.

‘That’s no longer necessary.’ Cato said to him. ‘We have their attention.’

‘Very well, sir.’ The auxiliaries stood at ease and waited behind their commander in the bright sunshine. Time dragged past and Cato undid his neck scarf and dabbed at the sweat trickling down his face from under his helmet. He was tempted to undo the chin ties and remove it for a moment to escape the stifling burden as he stood under the midday sun. Then he fought the temptation off. It would only look like weakness in front of the enemy.A small weakness, and a justifiable one, he reflected, but he was damned if he was going to show them any sign of discomfort. Far better to let them see how hardy Roman soldiers could be. He casually retied the cloth round his neck and stood at ease, staring directly at the wall before him and not shifting his gaze as he tried to create the look of a wholly imperturbable man.

After what seemed an age in the still, baking heat, Cato sensed movement to one side and turned to see a small party of men turn the corner of the wall of the merchants’ yards. At their head was a young, slender man in fine blue robes whose folds shimmered as he strode towards the Romans. He wore a sword belt from which hung a bejewelled scabbard that glinted as the sun caught the polished gold trimming and jewels set into the design. His beard was neatly trimmed and his hair glistened in the bright sunlight from the scented oil that had been combed into it. Behind him marched a bodyguard composed of six large spearmen, well muscled beneath their scale armour.

Cato turned towards them and raised his hand in salute. ‘Do I have the honour of addressing Prince Artaxes?’

‘You do,’ the prince replied curtly. ‘What do you want?’

Cato had memorised the statement he wished to make and spoke carefully to ensure that there was no misunderstanding.

‘The king wishes to inform you that this is a struggle between you and him. Between your followers and his.The ordinary people of his kingdom are harmless bystanders and should be treated as such. Accordingly, His Majesty has sent me to ask you to offer a safe passage for the civilians presently sheltering inside the citadel.They were misguided in thinking that they had anything to fear at your hands and only want to return to their homes and businesses that they might continue with their lives, under whichever king your God chooses as ruler of Palmyra.’

Artaxes nodded slightly, and glanced round at his bodyguards. ‘Stay there.’ He cautiously paced up to Cato until they were well within dagger thrust of each other, and then lowered his voice so that only the two of them would hear his words.

‘At the risk of being impious, it is my men, and my Parthian allies, who will decide the fate of Palmyra. We both know that, Roman, so let’s leave the Gods out of this, eh?’

‘As you wish, Prince.’ Cato nodded. ‘But General Longinus may reach Palmyra before your Parthian friends, in which case it would serve you and your followers well to let the civilians leave the citadel. One act of mercy might be rewarded with another.’

Artaxes shook his head mockingly. ‘Roman, the Parthian army is less than fifty miles from the city. Where is your general? If what I hear is true, your Roman army marches like a snail. It cannot possibly reach Palmyra before the Parthians.Your time is short. Why should I show any mercy to my enemies?’

‘Because they are not your enemies. If you are right, then in a matter of days they will be your subjects. Show them mercy and they will respect you.’

‘Ah, but if I show them none, then the rest of my subjects will fear me.’ Artaxes smiled. ‘You tell me, Roman, which quality a king should value most, respect or fear?’

‘I cannot answer for a king, but I would say respect.’

‘Then, truly, you are a fool. We stand here right now because my father was not feared. Nor was he respected at the end. When he lost respect he could not rely on fear to save him. I will not make the same mistake. I will make men fear me utterly, and they will do my bidding with no thought of dissent.And the slaughter of the civilians who are presently cowering behind the walls of the citadel will be useful proof of my intentions. They are dead the moment you throw them out.’

‘Who said we would throw them out?’

Artaxes feigned surprise.’Surely that is why you are here, pleading for their lives? I am not a fool, Roman.You cannot feed them; that is why my father wants them out. That means you are short of supplies, and that I am close to victory.’ He stared at Cato for a moment. ‘Is that not so, Roman?’

Cato did not reply at once. As he had feared, Artaxes had seen through the ploy in an instant. Cato could deny that they were short of supplies but he saw that Artaxes would not believe him. Now there was only one final bargaining counter to bring into play. He nodded his assent to Artaxes.

‘You are right, Prince. However, I have a proposal for you. If you let the civilians leave, and do no harm to them, then in five days’ time the two Roman cohorts will leave the citadel and surrender to you. You can dispose of us as you will.’

Artaxes stared at him briefly before replying. ‘Have you not heard of the fate I have promised to any Romans that I take alive?’

‘I have heard.’

‘Then why make such a foolish offer?’

‘As you said, we cannot hold out for much longer.We are dead men either way. At least this would give some purpose to our deaths.’

‘I see. And if you are dead either way, why should I agree to this?’

‘You know the quality of Rome’s soldiers. If you have to destroy us in battle then how many of your men do you think we will take with us?’ It was a bluff, since by that time the men would be too weak to put up much resistance, but Cato needed Artaxes to believe it, and he stood with an unflinching expression as he waited for the rebel leader to reply.

‘You would give your lives for the people of Palmyra?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

Cato drew himself up as he replied. ‘It takes the Empire several months to create and train a cohort. It has taken the Roman army a hundred years to build a reputation. We are not going to be remembered for throwing defenceless people to jackals like you.’