The Black Stone (46 page)

Cassius shook his head to clear his mind of the vision. His throat was so dry he thought he might choke. He grabbed his flask and gulped down the remaining water.

Ilaha was back on his feet, arms raised high. He spoke once more.

Adayyid looked in no fit state to translate. Cassius moved closer to Mercator. It took a moment for the optio to gather himself.

‘His voice has not been heard for hundreds of years but now Mighty Elagabal has spoken. I ask you now to join me when the sun rises tomorrow. We will ride out from this place. We will show Rome our numbers, our strength, and with the unconquered god of the sun to guide us we shall reclaim our lands and our freedom. With Elagabal beside us we shall be victorious!’

A cheer went up from the guards and some of the tribesmen. But many of the Saracens did not join in; many had not yet yielded to the warrior-priest and the black stone.

‘It seems that some are not with us,’ said Ilaha. ‘That does not concern me. These brothers mean us no harm, they are simply taking a little longer to see the light.’

Ilaha prowled along the front of the platform, the calmest man present. ‘But there is another here who
does
mean us harm. A traitor.’

Cassius was still trying to absorb what he had seen, but now his stomach began to churn. He reached up and pulled the hood tighter around his face.

Ilaha continued: ‘A man who serves not I, nor any of the ethnarchs, but our enemies.’

Khalima turned, then thought better of it.

There was a noise from over to the left. Commander Oblachus was limping down the wide path from the cavern, a dozen guards behind him. All the Saracens began to look warily around.

‘On occasion Mighty Elagabal speaks only to me,’ said Ilaha, stopping in front of the stone. ‘He told me this man would be here today; that he would show him to us.’

Oblachus and the guards were walking along the front of the crowd. The Saracens were backing away.

Ilaha threw up his hands. ‘Mighty Elagabal, show us this traitor. Where is he?’

Ilaha moved aside and from the centre of the rock came a shaft of red light. Certain it was pointing directly at him, Cassius turned away, eyes stinging.

This is it. You’re a dead man. Dead.

He had always doubted the power of the gods. Only now – when it was too late – did he realise his error. As dread washed over him, he spun around, looking for help from Indavara, Simo, Mercator. Anyone.

But neither they nor anyone else were looking at him. They were all staring at the centre of the crowd.

The light now seemed to be a faint, narrow beam, projecting from the middle of the rock. A space had appeared amidst a group of Saracens wearing grey cloths. They had all moved away from a man who looked just like the rest of them except that the red light was sparking off the metal of his belt and playing over his face.

The warrior looked around desperately and cried out in Nabatean. He stepped out of the light and reached for his fellows but they fled from him. He ran up to an older man dressed in the fine robes of an ethnarch, but other warriors pushed him back.

By the time Oblachus and the guards arrived, the light had disappeared. The man appeared too stunned to resist as the commander’s men dragged him away.

As the noise died down, the ethnarch ordered his men back down to their knees.

The effect spread out like a wave, until all the Saracens – Khalima and his men included – were on the ground too. Ilaha raised his hands high and spoke once more.

The only word Cassius could make out was Elagabal. What he had just witnessed seemed incontrovertible, yet doubt still tugged at him. Surely there was some sort of deception at work here? Clearly, nobody else thought so. Now Mercator and the auxiliaries were on their knees as were Indavara and Simo. Only Ulixes was still on his feet. He cast a speculative glance at Cassius then followed the others.

Quite possibly the last man standing, Cassius dropped down too. Beside him, Indavara was staring blankly at the ground, shaking his head. Simo was mouthing prayers to himself, hand inside his tunic.

Staying low, Cassius moved over to Adayyid. Like the others, the Saracen was listening intently.

‘Who was he?’ asked Cassius. ‘The man they took.’

Adayyid did not respond.

‘That tribe wearing grey, who are they?’

Adayyid remained silent. Khalima turned around and raised a finger to his mouth. Cassius moved back to Mercator. Though clearly shaken, the optio managed to translate.

‘Mighty Elagabal has helped us. With this traitor unmasked, we are now united as one people. The Tanukh will march tomorrow. Stand now, brothers. Join with me. Join me in praise.’

The priests stood and tapped out a swift beat with the bells and drums. Ilaha began the chant.

‘Ela – ga – bal! Ela – ga – bal!’

The guards took it up immediately, then the cry rippled through the crowd. Cassius watched Khalima, his warriors and most of the auxiliaries stand and join in too; and he had no idea whether their cries were genuine or they were playing along. Mercator, Indavara and Simo were still on their knees, watching.

‘Ela – ga – bal, Ela – ga – bal!

Ilaha took up a position beside the stone, arms stretched skyward, eyes closed, soaking up the noise. Some of the Saracens drew their swords and jabbed them in the air. Cassius looked at them; their pale, wet faces, their bulging, bloodshot eyes. Some bawled at the stone, others threw their hands up to the sun, yelling invocations in Nabatean. Their cries reverberated around the canyon.

‘Ela – ga – bal! Ela – ga – bal!’

Ilaha opened his eyes and smiled. As the chant continued, he walked away up the steps.

Despite the chaos and confusion without and within, Cassius was struck by a single question. Why hadn’t the light shone on him?

It was hard to tell who was more terrified, Khalima’s men or the auxiliaries, and their mood seemed little different to the other tribesmen gathered in the encampment. Though the fire wasn’t lit, they sat around it; a few talking, most still taking in what they’d seen beyond the inner gate. Mercator sat with his elbows resting on his knees, fingers interlocked, staring at the ashes. Indavara and Simo stood together, deep in discussion. Cassius was in front of the tent, waiting while Ulixes counted his money.

Once the gambler was finished, he came outside. ‘Quite a show, eh?’

Cassius looked at the men. ‘I’d say it had the desired effect. You don’t believe it either, do you?’

‘People believe what they want to believe. Just all seems a bit convenient to me.’

‘But how? That voice, the light …’

‘I don’t know.’ Ulixes turned towards the men. ‘But I do know you haven’t a hope of getting them anywhere near that stone.’

‘We never had a chance of getting it out of here anyway.’ Cassius shifted his gaze to the outer gate. ‘In fact, now we can’t even get ourselves out. Everyone will be expected to ride together tomorrow.’

Ulixes checked the bag of coins was secure inside his tunic. ‘My suggestion? We wait until nightfall then make a run for it.’

‘To Humeima?’

‘Where you go is up to you. I’ll be heading out of the province. Seems to me there’s a storm coming.’

Just as Ulixes walked away, Khalima – who had been speaking with Adayyid by the corral – strode over. Ignoring his men, he pointed at the tent.

‘Can we talk?’

‘Of course.’ Cassius followed him inside.

‘You knew about the stone, didn’t you, Roman?’

‘No.’

‘You’re a poor liar.’

‘It’s true I knew it had been taken. But I did not know it was here.’

Khalima rubbed his brow. ‘My men are scared. They fear we will be found out too.’

‘And you?’ said Cassius. ‘Were you convinced by that charade?’

‘I saw your face, young man. You were as afraid as anyone.’

‘For a moment perhaps.’

‘You cannot deny the power of that stone.’

‘This supposed traitor – I’d be very surprised if his tribe isn’t loyal to Ilaha. Am I right?’

Khalima looked away.

‘Am I right?’ demanded Cassius.

‘The ethnarch is named Kalderon. He is an ally of Ilaha, yes.’

‘Because Ilaha needed to take someone whose chief wouldn’t protest. Let me guess: he was a known man but not close to this Kalderon.’

‘A distant cousin, apparently. Leader of a group of villages. Not one of his favoured men.’

‘Ilaha and Kalderon used the poor bastard – a convenient scapegoat to show the god’s power and unite the warriors. Yet not one of us was identified. Not even
me
– a Roman officer right under his nose. This Ilaha is no great leader, he is a charlatan.’

‘Your words ring true, but the light—’

‘I’ve been thinking about that. The beam came directly from the rock. Kalderon could have positioned himself there on purpose.’

‘But that voice—’

‘That too was a trick. I’m sure of it.’

‘I saw the god. I saw—’

‘I saw something too. But think about what he did to us in there. The heat, the incense, then these tricks to tip us over the edge.’

Khalima took a breath. ‘It hardly matters what you or I think. The men believe it. All of them. No one will be able to stand up to Ilaha now. Not Uruwat nor anyone else.’

‘That is precisely what this “ceremony” was designed to achieve.’

Khalima looked out of the tent. ‘We will not get out of these mountains alive. My own stupid greed has blinded me. If we are discovered my men and I will be torn apart.’

Adayyid appeared outside the tent. Cassius beckoned him inside and he spoke to his father. Khalima listened then covered his eyes with his hands and cursed in his own language.

‘What is it?’ asked Cassius.

‘Uruwat wants to see me. I must go now.’

Without thinking about it, Cassius gripped the Saracen’s arm. ‘Do not lose your nerve. We can still get out of here.’

Khalima shook him off and left. The chief and his son walked away down the track.

Cassius’s tunic was sticking to his back and his head was buzzing. He felt as if he were trapped under a pile of rocks and someone kept adding new ones.

He sat down, located a wine flask and took a long drink. He could not escape the fact that there was now a very real possibility that Khalima would betray them. The Saracen would have difficulty doing so without implicating himself but he might see it as the only way to save he and his men. There was nothing Cassius could do about that. If it came to it, he would take out the spearhead and try to negotiate. They hadn’t actually done anything yet except infiltrate Galanaq. Perhaps moderate voices might prevail.

But all things considered, he didn’t fancy their chances. In fact, now that Ilaha had so effectively tightened his grip, he reckoned the warrior-priest wouldn’t hesitate to interrogate then dispose of every last one of them.

Simo approached, and bent over to look inside the tent.

‘Leave me alone for a bit.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Cassius drank more wine.

What if Khalima didn’t betray them? They could try to survive the next day or two in amongst the Saracens, then make their escape; or perhaps try to flee that night. Whatever they did, considerable nerve and composure would be required and the auxiliaries were currently showing little of either. Cassius knew then exactly what he had to do; it certainly beat waiting around to find out if he was going to die.

The tomb was musty but cool. Carved into the walls were dozens of niches but every one was empty. The burial spaces were identified by metal plaques or – for the poorer inhabitants – names scratched into the stone. Upon the floor were bits of candle and the skeleton of a bird.

Cassius had noticed tribesmen wandering up to the shady caverns from time to time to escape the heat and was relieved to see the men trooping up the slope attract little attention. He had told Simo and Indavara to attend and they arrived first.

‘What’s this about?’ asked Indavara as he entered the tomb.

‘You’ll see. And take those bloody stupid looks off your faces. If you can’t get hold of yourselves, how do you expect me to have any influence on the men?’

‘We should leave this place,’ said Indavara.