Legionary(41)

‘You set out with a camel escort?’ she cocked an eyebrow. ‘Those beasts are usually only needed when a man seeks to cross a desert.’ She looked to the east as she said this. ‘Romans crossing the desert have only ever led to one thing. War.’

Pavo noticed that her knuckles whitened on her bow. The next few moments passed like an eternity and Pavo felt his breath grow faster and faster. Only the buzzing of the flies nearby and the screeching of the vultures could be heard. Finally, she seemed to relax a little, releasing the grip on her bow. She snapped her fingers and the riders nearest brought forward a clutch of water skins, handing them to the panting legionaries.

‘Come with us,’ she beckoned. ‘In my settlement you can see to your wounded. And you can tell me more about your . . . patrol.’





They followed Izodora and the Maratocupreni until sunset, when they came to a rift in the land like a giant axe-wound in the dusty plain, as broad as a street at this end and widening near the centre. Pavo could only imagine what monstrous tremor in the earth had created such a fissure. While most of the legionary column made to march onwards past this crevasse, Izodora stopped, raising a hand to slow her riders. At this, the legionaries stopped too. She pushed two fingers into the corners of her mouth and emitted a shrill whistle. Silence hung in the air for but a moment, then a faint whistling sounded in reply from within the crevasse. Frowns were shared all round as Izodora led her riders to the end of the crevasse, starting on down a painfully narrow dirt slope that led into its depths.

Izodora halted on seeing Gallus and the legionaries hesitate. ‘You think this is some kind of trap?’ she fired back with a look an incredulous look. ‘You realise that I could have slain you all back there,’ she said with a flick of the head back in the direction of the camel raider skirmish. ‘With your attitude, you make me think that perhaps I should have. Stay out here if you will. I can feed and water the horses twice over instead. At least they would show some gratitude.’

For once, it seemed the iron tribunus was cowed. The acerbic words of this rider had him searching for a reply in vain. Wordlessly, he waved the legionaries on in Izodora’s wake. They marched in single file over a hundred feet down and onto the soft, dusty floor of this tight, sheer-sided valley, hidden from the plain above. It was less than a mile long. The walls were dotted with dark recesses, some at ground level, others ten, twenty or thirty feet up, with rough staircases hewn into the rock leading to them. Pavo instantly shared Gallus’ fears – imagining a cluster of spear-wielding bandits tucked away in those recesses. When Izodora suddenly clapped her hands, they froze, braced. The noise echoed through the space and seemed to stoke some movement in these alcoves. Figures emerged, a few hundred at least. Pavo’s heart quickened. Until he saw that they were only children, mothers, elderly men and women and a few younger men walking on crutches. They were joined by a playful herd of goats – the kids tumbling and bleating as the mother goats led them to the far end of the valley. There, a thick carpet of grass had sprung up around a part of the rock face that sparkled and seemed to move.

‘A spring!’ Sura croaked in delight, recognising the flowing water. Slumbering near this mini-oasis was a small herd of camels.

In moments, the Maratocupreni had kindled fires and were baking bread and bringing water to the men of the column and to their own warriors. They also brought out bowls of water, salves and bandages to tend to the wounded legionaries. Before darkness had fallen, Maratocupreni and Roman alike sat around the fires, filling their bellies and slaking their thirsts.

Pavo spiked a piece of flatbread on a wooden skewer and held it over the flames to toast. Having downed his armour and boots, he felt cooler and lighter. But the aches and pains of the march were quick to come to the fore. His feet were aching, swollen and dotted with raw patches where his boots had rubbed through several layers of skin. His shoulders felt crooked from the uneven weight in his pack, and his neck was red-raw from the sun and the chafing of his chain mail. He crunched into the charred bread and supped at his cool water. A good night’s sleep would help his body heal. Surely he was tired enough to stave off the nightmares tonight.

The crackling of the embers echoed endlessly between the sheer cliff walls, the flames casting dancing shadows up the rock faces. He felt his eyelids drooping, sighed and glanced across the many faces illuminated in orange seated nearby. Felix, Quadratus and Zosimus bore dark rings under their eyes from dehydration as they sipped endlessly from their skins. They only became animated when Quadratus prised off his boots, sniffed at one, then held it up to Zosimus’ face with a devious grin. Zosimus’ retching lasted almost as long as Felix’s laughter.