Legionary(33)

Nobody spoke for a moment, all eyes looking up above the eastern fort wall as the prayer reverberated around them.

‘Mithras’ll do for me,’ Quadratus broke the silence and then emitted a gurgling belch that seemed to last an eternity. The men’s frowns melted into smiles and chuckling.

‘That’s how it usually starts, before the farting,’ Zosimus muttered, flicking his head towards the big Gaul, ‘I just hope Mithras is with the poor bastards in his tent.’

‘Hmm?’ Quadratus frowned, sucking a string of meat from his teeth.

‘Nothing,’ Zosimus replied with a chuckle.

Yabet turned to Quadratus and said innocently; ‘Perhaps you should sleep with the tent flap open tonight, no?’

Quadratus looked puzzled momentarily, then realised he was being made fun of again. He tossed down his water skin and gestured for Felix to throw him the dice. ‘Right, I’m in – I’m going to empty this cheeky little bugger’s purse.’

‘Ah, the familiar, brave words of the many whom I have gone on to relieve of their gold,’ Yabet grinned. The gathering legionaries cackled at this, which only seemed to infuriate Quadratus further.

They played dice around the fire until night brought with it a pitch-black sky splashed with an infinite speckling of stars. While the gathering of the XI Claudia men was warm and jovial, most of the men of the XVI Flavia Firma had doused their fires and retired to their tents already, bar the handful on watch atop the crumbled battlements. Pavo looked up from the gathering and noticed Gallus, standing alone at the south-eastern corner of the fortlet walls, looking to the horizon. And at the north-eastern corner, Carbo stood alone, his gaze lost in the ground before him.

‘What do you make of him?’ Sura mused, following his gaze.

Pavo looked Sura in the eye. ‘He served with my father, told me of his past but . . . I don’t know, I can’t read him.’

Sura sighed and nodded. ‘Well I think we’ve learned in these last years to be wary of strangers.’

Pavo’s expression darkened. He noticed that Carbo seemed to be muttering to himself incessantly. ‘Aye, hard times and hard lessons.’

The faintest trace of a cool breeze danced over their skins.





Pavo found sleep hard to come by. Every fleeting moment of drowsiness was torn away by the first flashes of that nightmare of Father, buried below the sands. When Sura erupted in a grating chorus of snoring, Pavo gave up, slid from his cot and made for the tent flap.

Outside, the desert air was pleasantly cool – some of the sentries on the walls had even drawn their cloaks around their shoulders as they looked out across the darkness. A few men trudged to and from the latrines – a hole dug in the corner of the fortlet. But there were two figures atop the walls who looked as if they had not moved since sunset. Gallus and Carbo, at adjacent corners.

Pavo looked to each of them in turn, then climbed the stone steps towards his tribunus. ‘All quiet out there, eh, sir?’ He offered tentatively as he approached.

‘Indeed, I don’t like it,’ Gallus replied dryly without breaking his eastwards gaze.

‘I can take over your shift, sir, if you like? I have little chance of sleeping anyway.’

‘I’m not on shift,’ Gallus muttered. ‘And sleep and I tend to be at odds at the best of times.’

Pavo smiled at this, though only because he knew the tribunus could not see him. He made to lift his nearly empty water skin to offer Gallus some, then hesitated and replaced it; the man ate and drank as rarely as he slept. Apart from military matters, Gallus spoke with few, and few knew how to speak with him. The silence grew brittle and suddenly Pavo felt conscious of invading Gallus’ solitude. ‘Good night, sir,’ he said, then turned to leave.

‘I know what keeps you awake, lad. I heard you talking with Carbo in Antioch – at the tavern,’ Gallus said, halting Pavo in his step. ‘I understand that finding out what happened to your father must dominate your every thought. But this scroll we seek, it means everything to the empire. Do you realise just what might happen if we fail to find it?’

Pavo turned, gulping. He felt the outline of the phalera on his chest. ‘Sir, you can rely on me. I wouldn’t jeopardise the lives of the men for anything.’

‘Wouldn’t you?’ Gallus twisted round, one eyebrow cocked. ‘Wouldn’t you do anything – just to be rid of the nightmares that plague you?’

Pavo felt pinned by the tribunus’ glower.

Then, mercifully, Gallus sighed and his shoulders relaxed. He sat on the tip of the walls, facing Pavo, then held out a hand. ‘And yes, I’ll have a pull on that water, if you have enough to spare. We need more, and soon, but damn, I’m thirsty.’