The Black Stone (39 page)

Indavara picked up his covers, stepped over Simo and relocated to a spot beyond the overhang. Annoyed by the disruption, Cassius feared he would struggle to get back to sleep. He needn’t have worried.

At first he thought it was a dream. Whispering voices, then a cry, then the sounds of a scuffle.

‘What—’

‘You thieving piece of shit.’

‘Let go of me, you arsehole!’

Cassius sat up and turned round. Just behind his bed, two dark figures were grappling in the darkness. Still half-asleep, he couldn’t work out who they were.

Flames flashed past him. Mercator was holding a torch in one hand, his sword in the other.

Indavara and Ulixes were standing over the wine barrel. The bodyguard had a firm grip on Ulixes’s tunic; the ex-legionary was trying to get free.

‘What’s going on here?’ demanded Mercator as Cassius got up.

‘Nothing,’ said Ulixes.

‘Liar.’ Indavara turned to Cassius. ‘He was snooping around our stuff.’ Indavara nodded down at the barrel, then pushed Ulixes away. ‘Saw his opportunity when I moved.’

‘Gods, man, you’re paranoid,’ said the gambler. ‘I was after a drink from the barrel is all.’ He raised the mug in his hand.

Some of the men were stirring, asking each other what was going on.

‘You don’t have any water?’ demanded Indavara.

‘I wanted a proper drink. Can’t sleep.’

‘Horseshit.’

Mercator turned to Cassius. ‘Well?’

Cassius took the torch from him. ‘I’ll deal with this.’

Mercator withdrew and told the auxiliaries to go back to sleep.

Indavara whispered to Cassius. ‘He knows what’s in there. He meant to take it and escape.’

‘Calm down or
everyone
will know what’s in there.’

Cassius gestured for the gambler to return to his bed. ‘Please.’

After a bitter glance at Indavara, Ulixes walked away. The bodyguard looked about ready to punch him.

‘All right,’ whispered Cassius. ‘I believe you – he was up to something. But we can’t prove he was trying to steal the money.’

Indavara muttered a curse. ‘Do you really want to go into this enemy town worrying about what that sneaky bastard’s going to do next?’

‘Not particularly but the decision has been made.’

‘Fine. But I’m not sleeping over here. You’re on guard duty now.’

The rest of the night passed peacefully, as did the first hours of the day; and they saw no other travellers until they reached the Galanaq road.

Resting in the shadow of a towering rock face, they watched another group headed for the town. There were two dozen of them: a well-armed, grim-looking bunch who didn’t seem interested in exchanging pleasantries. Once they were past, Cassius asked Khalima whether he knew them.

‘No. But they were from one of the eastern tribes judging by those swords. Long and curved like the Persians use.’

Cassius gazed along the road. ‘You’re sure we won’t make Galanaq by nightfall?’

‘No, the road is too difficult. Also, I suggest that tomorrow we bide our time, perhaps wait for another – preferably larger – group to enter the town.’

‘Less attention for us?’

‘Precisely.’

They rode on, deeper into the mountains, eventually reaching the jagged peaks they’d been approaching since dawn. The range ran from east to west and from a distance seemed impassable, the tallest reaches at least a mile high. But now the road ran upward, winding its way over several interlocking spurs beneath the largest of the crags: a vast, dark pyramid.

‘The Black Tooth,’ said Adayyid, who was again riding close to the rear with Cassius. ‘The rest of the going will be slow.’

Even though the Saracen was soon proved right, Cassius drew encouragement from the quality of the road: it zigzagged sharply to negotiate the steeper slopes and seemed well maintained. He saw numerous wheel marks and evidence that some areas had been cleared and flattened. If Ilaha’s men had brought the stone in this way it would be no more difficult to bring it out.

As they passed the Black Tooth, Cassius observed eagles or vultures circling close to the summit. He also saw the huge hollows and ravines high on the mountain’s flanks. It occurred to him that if the gods resided anywhere other than the sky, they might choose such a lofty, lonely place.

Later that afternoon, the road straightened and followed a fissure that tapered eventually to a gap no more than twenty feet across.

‘The Scorpion Pass,’ announced Adayyid as the party funnelled into pairs. ‘And it’s well named, so don’t get off your horse.’

The tightest section of the pass was enclosed by a pair of almost vertical cliffs.

‘It’s the only way through for ten miles,’ added the Saracen.

‘Man-made?’ asked Cassius.

‘Nobody knows who carved it out – probably the same people that did the paintings.’

Etched upon the cliffs were scrawled writing and a collage of images in white and yellow: coiled snakes and prancing horses; suns, moons and stars; gods, kings and stick-men. But it was the faces that struck Cassius. Formed of only a few lines, they nonetheless captured something real, something human. He couldn’t decide whether they were supposed to be frightened or frightening.

As the gap widened out again, he looked down at the stony ground. ‘Haven’t seen a scorpion yet.’

‘You never see the one that kills you,’ said Adayyid. ‘My cousin was bitten not far from here. By the end he was begging for death.’

‘Lovely part of the world,’ said Cassius.

‘There are spirits,’ said Indavara. ‘I can feel it.’

‘I know what you mean. There’s a chill about the place.’

‘This is a forsaken land,’ observed Simo. ‘Nothing grows here.’

‘At least the road’s in good condition,’ said Cassius, trying to sound optimistic.

‘And easy to follow,’ added Indavara.

‘Just as well,’ replied Cassius. ‘Whatever happens in Galanaq, we’ll be coming back this way.’

Once past the Black Tooth, the landscape opened up and they eventually found themselves above a steep valley. Like the line of mountains, it ran at right angles to the road, east to west. Beyond was an apparently endless maze of peaks and ridges.

With dusk close, Khalima called a halt at a broad, diamond-shaped slab of stone overlooking the valley. On the right side of it was a rock face, to the left the road descended along the side of the cliff. In the distance – just rounding a bend – were the horsemen from earlier.

Numerous sighs of relief and curses of exhaustion filled the air as the men dismounted. Khalima found Cassius and pointed along the road.

‘It follows the cliff down to Galanaq at the eastern end of the valley. This is the best place for the night. It’s called “the Step”.’

‘Just “the Step”? Seems a tad dull after the other place names round here. Sure there’s enough space?’

‘It’s a well-known stop.’

Between the Step and the rock face to the right was a strip of sand and the remains of several fires.

‘In any case,’ added Khalima, ‘there’s nowhere else.’

‘What about them?’ asked Cassius, pointing at the easterners.

‘There are some caves which they’ll just about reach by nightfall. It’s only a few hours from there to Galanaq.’

‘Good. Ugh, what the …’

Cassius looked down at his boot. He had just trodden in a large black turd.

‘One of the advantages of the site,’ said the Saracen.

‘How is that an advantage?’

‘There are always a few ibex around.’ Khalima nodded approvingly at the turd. ‘That looks fresh.’

Adayyid handed his father a short bow and a quiver.

‘Will you join us for a hunt?’ asked the chief. He jabbed the bow at the valley floor. ‘The ibex like to climb the ravines looking for food. If the gods smile, we’ll bag one before sundown. Cunning creatures, tremendous sport. Well?’

‘No, thank you.’

Cassius walked over to Mercator, who didn’t seem impressed by their home for the night.

‘Hardly enough room to swing a cat here.’

‘I know,’ replied Cassius. ‘Let’s sort the horses out.’

Khalima’s men had already gathered their mounts in the corner of the Step, by the road. Cassius and Mercator helped the soldiers rope theirs in a single line along the strip of sand. Once plenty of water and fodder had been provided they moved away to give the animals space and time to calm down. Patch and the other mules were put between them and the Saracens’ mounts.

Khalima led his men in a ceremony before the hunt. They knelt in a circle, took out charms and hurried through a chant. Once this was done, they followed their leader to the rear of the Step where there was a tiny gully Cassius hadn’t even noticed. Khalima had to breathe in and hold his bow up as he squeezed through. In moments, the Saracens were gone, leaving only two men behind to watch their horses.

Once Ulixes’s mount was tied to the others he took his gear and went to sit alone close to the cliff-edge. As Indavara and Simo started unpacking, Cassius looked at his hands. His reins had worn away a little of the dye but for the most part Golpari’s work remained intact. He wished he had a mirror but Simo had assured him that the colouring still looked convincing.

Golpari. Cassius had seen only her face but had spent much of the last two days imagining what the rest of her looked like. Though he had never seen the Palmyran Queen Zenobia, he guessed she might be similarly sultry and exotic. There was an equally gorgeous Persian bar girl in one of the taverns back in Bostra. She earned enough to be picky but had propositioned Cassius a number of times. He couldn’t really spare the money but now promised himself he would visit the tavern when – if? – they returned to the capital.

Around him, the men pulled off their boots and lay out their aching bodies. Ulixes threw pebbles off the cliff. Mercator stood with Yorvah and Andal, sharing a flask of wine. Indavara was scraping dirt off his boots with a stick. Simo was rummaging through a saddlebag.

‘Ha. Look!’

One of the auxiliaries pointed upwards. Fifty feet above, an eagle was swooping past the cliff. Pinned in its talons was a struggling rabbit. The eagle stalled in midair, thrashing its wings.

‘Go on,’ cried one of the men. ‘Rip it to shreds!’

‘He got greedy – it’s too heavy.’

‘Nah – the eagle always triumphs.’

‘He’ll have to drop it.’

By now, every last man was watching.

The eagle suddenly let go. The rabbit fell, bounced off one of the auxiliaries’ horses then landed on the ground.

Some of the men laughed and cheered.

Though bloodied, the rabbit was still alive. Panicked by the noise, it ran straight under the legs of another horse. The horse reared and fell to one side, striking the animal next to it. The others whinnied and shuffled away.

Mercator was the first to see the danger. ‘Grab that one at the end!’

He ran across the Step but had to dodge around the auxiliories and their bags.

Khalima’s men grabbed two of their mounts and pulled their animals towards the road.

Cassius looked at the other side of the step. The horse closest to the edge was bucking against the others, desperate to get clear of the cliff.

‘Cut the rope!’ yelled Indavara.