The Black Stone (61 page)

Even the most committed of the remaining guards weren’t prepared to challenge the ethnarchs, who maintained their position until the doors were shut. Yemanek then dismounted and spoke to Kalderon. Heavily outnumbered and facing a man who still hadn’t drawn his sword, Kalderon eventually lowered his blade. His warriors and the guards followed.

Cassius turned around. There were hundreds more of Ilaha’s men in the crowd but they were split into groups and didn’t seem keen to take on the other tribesmen.

Yemanek remounted his horse and shouted to Urunike. ‘Bring the Roman to us. He will address the Tanukh.’

They found Ulixes on the far side of the pass. He was sitting against a boulder, his horse wandering aimlessly. Once off their mounts, Indavara and the others hurried over to him. The ex-legionary’s left hand had swollen to double the normal size; upon his palm was a livid red circle.

‘Scorpion?’ asked Andal.

The gambler let his head rest on the boulder. ‘Horse threw me. Next thing I knew my hand was on fire. Never even saw it. I can feel the poison spreading through me. Anyone want this …?’

Ulixes took the bag of coins from his tunic and threw it. The bag landed amidst the auxiliaries and a few of the gold aurei spilled out.

‘… because it’s of no bloody use to me. All that waiting, then I finally get what’s owed me and this happens.’ He looked up at the sky. ‘I hate the gods. Every last stinking, useless bloody one of them!’

Indavara exchanged a glance with Mercator and the optio led the men away to get organised. Andal picked up the money and dropped it at Ulixes’s feet.

‘What are you lot doing anyway?’ asked the gambler.

‘Making a stand here,’ said Indavara.

‘Still no sign of your master?’

‘No.’

Ulixes gave a bitter smile. ‘You never had a chance. That ruthless son of a bitch Abascantius should never have sent you down here. He never was one to worry about the poor sods at the sharp end.’

‘Will you fight with us?’ asked Indavara. ‘We could use another sword.’

‘I’ll probably be dead by the time they turn up,’ said Ulixes, wincing as he moved the afflicted hand.

‘If you’re not?’

‘What do I care who loses or wins that stupid stone? I’m a dead man anyway. I’ll sit this one out.’

Indavara wasn’t about to waste any more time on him. He went over to Mercator, who was helping the injured Damon up onto the cart. The other wounded auxiliary was still in the back and it had been agreed that they would continue on with the stone. The other horses had been tethered a hundred yards along the road.

‘Keep going until you reach the mushroom,’ instructed Mercator. ‘If we haven’t caught up by tomorrow head for Humeima. Don’t stop for anyone or anything.’

The pair set off.

Indavara couldn’t believe how few of them were left: himself, Mercator, Andal plus four men – Bucoli, Nobus, Itys and Pelagius. All five auxiliaries were looking at the Scorpion Pass.

Indavara unbuckled his belt, pulled off the tunic with the solar symbol and threw it onto his pack. Mercator was squatting close by, checking their two bows. Indavara knelt next to him and began inspecting their meagre stash of arrows.

Mercator looked at the men then spoke quietly. ‘Did we just make a big mistake?’

‘We have one advantage,’ said Indavara. ‘We can hold our ground. They want that stone, they’re going to have to come through us.’

Cassius and Simo were waiting inside a small tent close to a large one – the largest within Yemanek’s camp. The nine ethnarchs – Kalderon included – were already there

With the initial sense of relief fading, Cassius knew he now faced another task of the utmost difficulty. He imagined Ulixes would have been impressed by the result of his last-ditch gamble but if what followed went badly, he, Simo and Khalima might not see out the day. The Gaul knew when to leave his master alone and hadn’t spoken a word, merely finding him a barrel to sit on and some water to drink.

Cassius had no idea how the meeting would go but he was determined to strike the right balance between reverence and strength. If he didn’t appear humble before the leaders of this ancient confederation, they might easily string him up and persist with the rebellion, with or without Ilaha. On the other hand, if he didn’t convince them he had the power to negotiate and the ear of the governor, they wouldn’t take him seriously (and might still string him up). Nobody looked particularly favourably on spies, especially if they were also thieves; and if the ethnarchs took against him, surely Khalima and his allies would be powerless to do anything.

Simo had taken a spare tunic from Cassius’s pack and replaced the smelly, filthy one he’d been wearing. He was just about able to keep his boot on over the sprained ankle if the laces were loose. He checked his belt and stood.

‘Sir, perhaps a little food to settle your stomach.’

Cassius’s expression gave Simo his answer. He took the spearhead from him.

‘Sir, what you did was very brave.’

‘It might have been if I’d had any choice.’

‘I wonder what’s happened to the others.’

‘Who knows? But I pray they’ve got clear – and not only for their sakes. If that German bastard returns with the stone this situation could reverse itself very quickly.’

The tent flap opened and Khalima came in. His sword and dagger were gone. Blood was seeping through the bandage around his head and mixing with sweat upon his brow.

‘They want to see you now. Leave your weapons here.’

Cassius raised his arms as Simo removed his dagger and sword. ‘Will you come in with me?’

‘I cannot. They will deal with me later.’

‘I’ll be alone?’

‘They’re not even allowing Urunike in – the sons are yet to be formally recognised by the Confederation. Come, you must not keep them waiting.’

‘Any advice?’

‘Tell the truth – or as much as you can.’ Khalima lowered his voice. ‘Our agreement—’

‘Of course. I should speak Greek?’

‘Yes.’

As they walked outside, Cassius looked around. Men bearing the yellow cloths of Yemanek’s tribe had formed a cordon around the centre of the camp. Beyond them was a sea of faces, including men from every one of the other twelve clans.

Two bulky guards were standing outside the large tent. Four more swiftly appeared and surrounded Khalima. The Saracen stopped and did his best not to look concerned. ‘Go on.’

Cassius hobbled to the entrance but the guards didn’t move. Then, without a word, one darted forward and grabbed him. It took a moment for Cassius to realise the man was just patting him down, checking for weapons. Once he’d finished, the second man pulled two thick curtains aside and Cassius went in.

The nine ethnarchs were all standing. Most had plenty of grey in their beards and plenty of gold on their fingers and wrists. Their tunics and cloaks were of opulent reds and blues, their weapons encrusted with gems. The burly Yemanek was standing slightly ahead of the others. Kalderon – smaller but no less intimidating – was to Cassius’s left, dark eyes fixed upon him.

Cassius bowed low. ‘It is an honour to be summoned before the ethnarchs of the Tanukh.’

Kalderon snorted and tapped his belt impatiently. Cassius dragged his eyes off the Saracen’s curved dagger.

‘Do not insult our intelligence,’ said Yemanek calmly. ‘You are a spy and a thief.’

‘Perhaps,’ conceded Cassius. He held up the spearhead. ‘But I am also a member of Governor Calvinus’s provincial staff.’

‘Show me that,’ said Yemanek. Cassius gave it to him.

The ethnarch examined it then passed it to the others. ‘Why are you still here if your men have escaped with the stone?’

‘I was injured and had to remain behind. Fortunately, it gave me a chance to intervene and expose Ilaha.’

‘Probably the only way for you to save your own skin,’ said one of the other ethnarchs.

‘Also true,’ admitted Cassius.

‘What does Calvinus know of Ilaha?’ asked Yemanek.

‘Very little. All we had was some intelligence that the stone was in Galanaq.’

‘And it seems you had some help getting in here,’ said another of the Saracens.

Only now did Cassius truly appreciate Khalima’s predicament. Regardless of the outcome, he had betrayed his own to assist a Roman agent. Cassius realised he hadn’t asked about their deal out of greed – but because he couldn’t be sure of his own fate.

‘Khalima did aid us, yes.’

‘Was he paid?’ asked another man.

‘At no point has he acted against the interests of his tribe or the Tanukh.’

‘Answer the question, Roman,’ insisted the ethnarch, a broad fellow with a pale scar that ran all the way across both his chins.

Cassius aimed a slight bow at him. ‘With respect, this is not a court. I am not
obliged
to disclose that. Khalima did help us but he has betrayed no one.’

‘By bringing a Roman spy into our very midst?’ yelled Kalderon. Another ethnarch admonished him and the meeting briefly descended into a shouting match. Cassius understood not a word of it, but retreated two steps. After a time, tempers died down and Yemanek continued.

‘In trying to kill Ilaha, our three compatriots went against the traditions and spirit of the Confederation. Regardless of Ilaha’s intentions, they betrayed us, as did Khalima. He will be punished.’

Despite his situation, this was not a point on which Cassius was going to concede easily; the man had already lost his son. ‘Without Khalima, you and your warriors would now be setting off behind Ilaha, believing yourselves to be under the protection of “mighty” Elagabal.’

‘You dare to walk in here and insult us!’ spat Kalderon. ‘How I would love to slit your throat and—’

Yemanek silenced him.

Cassius clenched his fists to stop his hands shaking; it didn’t work.

Yemanek continued: ‘Khalima’s fate is neither your concern nor the most important matter we must discuss. What of the stone?’

‘It will be returned to its rightful place. Ilaha stole it from the temple where it has resided for decades.’

‘The Black Stone of Emesa belongs to no one,’ said one of the older ethnarchs. ‘Ilaha’s tricks do not reverse hundreds of years of reverence nor the power of the object.’

‘The Emperor agrees. He wishes to honour and celebrate the black stone, not exploit it.’

The elderly ethnarch waved a dismissive hand at him and spoke in Nabatean.

Yemanek translated. ‘He says you are far too young to be a man of importance. Why should we believe that you have any influence with the governor – you will say whatever you have to to save yourself.’

‘Perhaps if I show you this.’ Cassius opened the satchel and took out a letter which he gave to Yemanek. He doubted the ethnarchs would know a great deal about the Imperial Security Service but he was sure they would know who led Syria’s Fourth Legion. Some of the other ethnarchs read the letter over Yemanek’s shoulder.

‘Venator – of the Fourth?’ asked one.

‘Yes. Though I’m currently attached to Calvinus’s staff, I am an officer of the Fourth.’

‘You know him?’ asked Yemanek, running his fingers through his beard.

Cassius gestured to the letter, which was written in the prefect’s own hand. It described Cassius as an officer of ability and repute and requested the reader to lend him whatever assistance necessary.

‘A capable warrior and a wise man,’ said Yemanek before returning the letter.

‘Indeed.’

Cassius decided to capitalise on the moment of calm. ‘I am not a tribune or a procurator but I know the governor well and I know he would prefer an agreement to bloodshed. Whilst here, I have seen and understood the depth of feeling against Rome. I can represent your interests, arrange a meeting. Calvinus appreciates that the current situation has led to disillusionment and frustration. He is keen to make an accommodation.’

Kalderon retorted in Nabatean.

‘Our compatriot argues that we can
force
an accommodation,’ explained Yemanek.

‘I don’t believe you need to. Before I left, certain alternatives were already being discussed. Governor Calvinus recognises that your profits have fallen. There was talk of a reduction in the import tax.’