Tamur slumped at this and pinched the top of his nose between thumb and forefinger. At last, he nodded, clutching one hand over the golden lion brooch on his breast. ‘Aye, your reasoning is sound as always, Archimagus.’ Yet his thoughts churned and he frowned. ‘But if the scroll is truly lost somewhere in our land, then why should we fear that the Romans will find it?’
‘Because a messenger came in while you were travelling,’ Ramak nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing as he stroked his beard. ‘The spies I planted throughout Roman Syria some time ago have confirmed my fears. A Roman expedition is to set off into the desert. They are coming to these lands in search of the scroll. They might know of its whereabouts or they might not. Either way we must . . . ’
‘Crush them!’ Tamur finished, punching a fist into his palm.
‘All is in hand, brave spahbad. All is in hand,’ Ramak assured him, the light of the fire dancing in his eyes. ‘I have a man in the ranks of the Roman expedition. They will march out into the desert, and they will die.’ He outstretched both arms to the blazing fire pit. ‘Ahura Mazda wills it!’ he purred.
As Ramak’s words echoed around the dome, Tamur felt a wave of relief and a cold sliver of fear at this man’s foresight.
Ramak continued; ‘We will crush the expedition, and then we will set our sights on Roman Syria. I have already issued notice to the outlying towns – the muster of your armies is even now underway.’
Tamur felt a surge of anger at another man giving orders to his armies. But before he could voice his displeasure, Ramak’s face bent into a wide grin.
‘And the mustering will be complete within three moons, in time for the Jashan of Shahrevar. The Festival of Iron will be a momentous day for us. It will be the day that our armies set forth to destroy the lie . . . to seize Roman Syria and drive the empire’s legions into the sea. The first step on the journey to restore your honour, and that of your noble house!’
Tamur felt his heart pounding once more, his ire buried under a wave of hubris, and he nodded.
‘Remember, Tamur, with me by your side, you harness the power of Ahura Mazda,’ Ramak continued. ‘With me by your side, your destiny can be realised.’
Tamur steeled his troubled features. ‘Yes, Archimagus.’
Chapter 7
The column marched due east from Antioch for four days. With every mile, the air became dryer, the sun fiercer and the greenery sparser. Now pale dust seemed to be swallowing up all but a few hardy shrubs dotting the hilly and scree-strewn lands. Tunics were sodden with sweat, boots and armour started chafing on skin.
Gallus and Felix led the column. Carbo walked with them, pointing out the route, while Yabet had taken to dropping back to banter with the men. He would share words of advice; ‘Stay ahead of your body’s needs – eat before you are hungry, drink before you are thirsty. Finally – and this is vital; if you need to shit,’ he stopped, walking backwards before them, a grave look on his face and one finger wagging in the air, ‘make sure you are downwind of me first!’ his face melted into a wicked grin, stirring the weary men of the XI Claudia into belly laughter. Those of the Flavia Firma century who laughed were quickly stared down by Baptista.
The three centuries marched abreast. The XI Claudia centuries were side by side on the right with the aquilifer carrying the ruby bull banner proudly at their head. The Flavia Firma century were on the left with their dark-blue Chi-Rho banner held even higher as if in competition. The three centuries screened the camel train in the centre – or, as Pavo had put it, the camels screened the XI Claudia from the Flavia Firma, each party exchanging haughty glares and scowls when their eyes met.
‘Raging because the emperor chose us, then raging when he chose them to help us – unbelievable,’ Zosimus muttered, before wrenching the cork from his soured wineskin to take a pull on the contents. The big Thracian smacked his lips together in satisfaction, a sparkle of mischief lighting his eyes, then he started whistling the first notes of a song in praise of Mithras. In moments, Quadratus, heading up the other century, had joined in with the words. Soon, the whole right side of the column was in song. The singing was brutal and peppered with spontaneous obscenity but their spirits soared, and Pavo was sure he could see a hint of a smile touching the edge of Gallus’ lips up ahead. Baptista and the Flavia Firma men were less than amused, to put it mildly.
Just then, one camel strayed out of line, trotting along directly in front of Centurion Quadratus, its tail swishing, brushing and batting near the Gaul. Quadratus’ face puckered in an angry grimace as he exchanged heated words with the nearest dromedarius rider.