The Black Stone (40 page)

Mercator had made it through. He jumped down onto the sand and drew his dagger.

The horse fell onto its front knees, then was struck by another. It slid off the edge and disappeared.

As he tried to barge his way through the auxiliaries, Cassius saw another horse fall, eyes bulging as it slipped over the cliff.

‘Cut it!’

‘Cut the rope!’

Each of the mounts had a line looped around their neck which was attached to the main rope. Braving the lashing hooves of the third horse, Mercator darted forward and clamped one hand over the rope.

Cassius glimpsed Indavara and Andal at the other end, vainly attempting to pull the mounts back the other way. As the horse tottered on the edge, mouth foaming, Mercator slashed the blade down, severing the rope. As both ends flew away, he fell back.

It was too late for the horse. Something close to quiet briefly returned and Cassius heard the animal bumping against the rocks as it fell the hundreds of feet to the valley floor. He joined the others as they grabbed the mounts, helping Indavara and Andal steady them.

‘Try to stay still,’ ordered Andal. ‘Calm them down.’

Though some were still whinnying and scraping the ground with their hooves, the wide-eyed horses gradually quietened again. The mules had been on a different rope; Patch and the others had remained safe throughout.

After a time, some of the men walked up to the cliff-edge and looked over it.

‘Oh dear Lord,’ breathed Simo.

The auxiliaries were cursing and shaking their heads.

‘An eagle of all things,’ said one.

‘A terrible omen,’ said another.

‘A terrible
accident
,’ affirmed Cassius.

Mercator’s hands were still shaking as he fitted his dagger back into the sheath. ‘We cannot leave the mounts like this.’

‘Agreed.’

Cassius also wanted to keep the auxiliaries busy, knowing how quickly this talk of an omen would take hold: ‘You men, listen.We’re going to move the horses out back along the road – give ourselves more space. Andal, Yorvah, quickly now.’

In fact it was Cassius who took charge, chivvying the men along, giving anyone unoccupied something to do. Within a quarter-hour they had the horses spread out opposite Khalima’s animals, with the best of the fodder to occupy them.

But the murmurings continued. When even Yorvah was heard to mention the ‘omen’, Cassius ordered Mercator to assemble the men. Given the effect of the accident and the fact that this was their last day before trying to enter Galanaq, he reckoned the time was right for a very specific concession, especially as Khalima and most of his men were absent.

While the auxiliaries gathered, he delved into the grain sack containing the satchel and pulled out the other item he had secreted there, which was wrapped in cloth. He walked over to a small outcrop of rock at the rear of the Step, the top of which was at head height. He waved Mercator and the men over and they formed a loose semicircle facing him. With Ulixes and the Saracens looking on, Cassius waited for silence before speaking.

‘Well done, all of you. We shouldn’t have any further problems here tonight. This was an unpleasant incident, but do not get drawn into fantastical talk. We all saw the bird drop the rabbit. The rabbit startled the horses. Simple cause and effect.’

‘But an eagle, sir,’ said one of the men. ‘I’ve never seen such a thing.’

‘Why now?’ said another. ‘It
has
to be a sign.’

‘Accidents happen,’ replied Cassius quickly. ‘We’ve dealt with it. It’s over. Do you think Jupiter would abandon his loyal followers because a bird drops its dinner? In any case, I wanted to take a moment together as a group. I realise that you men have had no proper opportunity to worship since we left Bostra. I don’t think we will have another chance to do so. We shall pray to the god of gods.’

Cassius carefully unwrapped the bronze figurine of Jupiter, which he had liberated from the villa in Bostra. It was no more than six inches high, the metal dull and marked, but it would suffice. Cassius placed it on the outcrop and wedged it between two stones (the last thing he needed was another bout of superstitious rambling).

Mercator got down on one knee and the others swiftly followed. Cassius was grateful that Indavara and Simo did so too, though he knew neither would say the words. He checked the figurine a final time, then turned and knelt beside Mercator. He thought briefly about what to say, then began, allowing time for the men to repeat each line.

‘Great and honoured Jupiter, king of kings, god of gods. We – your children, your followers, your warriors – are gathered here in the service of Rome and the Emperor. Pray favour us. Pray watch over us and deliver us from harm. In return we offer our ever-lasting love and fidelity. Great Jupiter, watch over us.’

A welcome distraction arrived an hour later in the form of Khalima and his hunting party. Two of the warriors were carrying slain ibex over their shoulders, each with a single arrow wound to the neck. They were large animals – one male, one female – and caused a good bit of interest fom the auxiliaries.

Upon hearing what had happened, Khalima apologised for not seeing the danger and posted some of his warriors to watch all the horses. As his other men built up a fire farther down the road, he promised a good cut of meat for everyone.

By the time the meal arrived, the auxiliaries had settled down for the night but they tucked in with enthusiasm, all pronouncing it at least as good as Censorinus’s lamb. Cassius allowed Adayyid to drop a portion on his plate to avoid causing offence but later gave it to Indavara. He couldn’t face a thing.

Cassius hardly slept. The valley below and the surrounding rock seemed to amplify every sound; every fall of scree, every bird’s cry, every wolf’s howl. But worst of all was the horses. Cassius lost count of the times he and various others sat up at the slightest noise from them, dreading a repetition of the earlier disaster. Simo seemed equally unsettled; Indavara snored through it all.

Grateful for the dawn, Cassius was one of the first up, walking a respectful distance down the road to relieve himself. On the way back he exchanged a greeting with Khalima, who was already breakfasting on more of the stringy ibex meat. Ulixes was still asleep, wrapped up in his blankets just feet from the cliff.

Brushing away thoughts of the fallen horses below, Cassius went to the outcrop and recovered the figurine. As he replaced it in his satchel, he noticed his papers and thought of Apollinaris. If all had gone to plan, both letters were now speeding north to Calvinus and Abascantius.

The men were beginning to stir. Cassius gave Simo and Indavara a gentle kick. ‘Come on, you two, we’re leaving within the hour.’

Mercator was already up. Belching and rubbing his stomach, he ambled over to Cassius. ‘Not the most restful night I’ve ever had.’

‘Me neither. I shall be glad to leave this place.’

Mercator looked along the road. ‘Though at least here we only have ourselves to worry about.’

‘For now our main aim is to just get through the gates. Remind the men: nothing but Nabatean. If anyone questions them, they must stick to the story and keep it simple.’

‘Will do. So you three are supposed to be Syrian, yes?’

Cassius indicated himself, then Indavara, then Ulixes. ‘Castor, Imbrasus and Ucalgen. Simo will stay as he is. I’ve come up with some details and a backstory. We’ll go through it with everyone on the ride down.’

‘Sir, what if we are discovered?’

‘If we do have to escape or if we get split up, I suggest two rally points – here and the mushroom. Everyone should be able to find their way to those. And from there to Humeima.’

Mercator scratched his flattened, lumpen nose. He lowered his voice. ‘And the rock? We’ll need a big cart to get it back along this road.’

‘If it is at Galanaq, then they brought it here all the way from Emesa, so there’s no reason why we can’t take it back.’

‘You make it sound easy.’

Cassius bent his head towards the shorter man. ‘Mercator, listen. I’ll follow orders, but only up to a point. If there’s no chance of recovering the stone, we’ll withdraw. I’m not about to throw our lives away on some suicide mission, regardless of how much the Emperor wants the bloody thing. Establishing its location will still represent considerable progress. We can always just get the lie of the land and report back to Abascantius; let the top brass take it from there.’

‘I’m glad to hear you say that.’

‘All this for a rock, eh?’

The road clung to the side of the cliff and descended past precipitous drops and around perilous corners. Even though there was sufficient space, the party moved in single file; everyone seemed to prefer it that way. Around the third hour they passed a merchant heading a column of six carts. Cassius was relieved to see the vehicles negotiating one of the steeper slopes with little difficulty; the main preoccupation for the drivers seemed to be staying away from the edge.

Still bringing up the rear, he was one of the last to hear from the front that armed men were approaching. Khalima issued a few orders to his warriors; Mercator and the guard officers did the same. The party moved to the left side of the road as the first of the warriors rode into view.

The Arabian was moving quickly, his horse taking the slope at a trot. In his attire, he looked little different to Khalima’s men or the auxiliaries. He was, however, armed to the teeth, with a sword at his belt, a long spear over his shoulder, and a circular shield hanging from his saddle. With no more than a cursory glance at the strangers, he continued on, followed by a dozen more warriors. Other than their heavy armament, the men displayed one other common feature: each had a bright yellow circle sewn onto their tunics over their hearts.

At midday they stopped to water the horses. An anonymous crack in the cliff turned out to be the top of a cistern; one of Khalima’s men collected water via a roped pail and two others distributed it. Every last man seemed conscious of the previous evening’s events and all took care to keep close control of their mounts.

Grateful that his horse continued to display a calm temperament, Cassius passed his reins to Simo and walked to the edge. The valley had narrowed to a canyon perhaps half a mile across. Directly below was the road; a few hundred yards ahead it turned back on itself then zigzagged down to the ground. From there it crossed a short causeway across a marsh – the first sign of fertile ground for days. Beyond the causeway, the road bent around to the left and finally reached the town.

Galanaq was protected by a massive, ancient-looking wall: row upon row of colossal grey stone blocks. A pair of masons were at work and, using them for scale, Cassius estimated the wall’s height to be at least twenty feet. The arched gateway was secured by two huge timber doors, now slightly ajar. The only high structure within the town was a circular stone tower set just back and to the left of the gate. A large standard flew from a pole but Cassius could see nothing of the design. Gathered in front of the gate was a handful of guards. Two other groups of riders were waiting outside – one of about a dozen, the other twice that.