‘Silence!’ Gallus interrupted his thoughts. All those around him stopped splashing and chattering.
Pavo looked up. The tribunus strode round the edge of the pool, having yet to slake his own thirst. He crept round to the far side, then crouched, peering through the palm trunks. Pavo followed his gaze, and saw it too. Beyond the oasis, on the plain, a flickering column of iron moved – like some giant serpent. Pavo blinked, rising from the pool to stand tall, an odd shiver dancing across him as the hot desert breeze touched his wet skin. His spear arm clenched, and he cursed himself for having thrown down his weapon in haste. He moved his hand to his spatha hilt, watching as the iron column grew closer.
But, at the last, he saw the eagle standard this army carried. A green capricorn banner hung below the eagle – just like that etched on the shields of Ovidius’ two men. This was the IV Scythica. Over one thousand limitanei legionaries. Over one thousand spears, spathas, shields and bobbing intercisa helms. The sight was a welcome one. They were marching towards the oasis at haste – so hastily in fact that some men stumbled and others marched well out of line.
Gallus twisted round, beckoning Zosimus, Quadratus and Felix. ‘Ready the men.’ Then he pinned Tribunus Ovidius with his glare. The man was just coming round, rubbing at his throbbing cheek. ‘Bring him too.’
The men of the vexillatio slipped from the pool quietly, picking up their discarded weapons. Zosimus, Quadratus and Carbo organised their tattered centuries, then Felix beckoned them forward to the edge of the oasis. Readied, Gallus led them from the oasis and into the glare of the burning sun once more. At once, the approaching IV Scythica slowed, a distant babble of confusion spilling from their ranks as they squinted at Pavo and the vexillatio. Pavo shielded his eyes from the sun; their faces were haggard, sunburnt and blistered too. But there was something else, something dancing in their eyes. Panic.
‘Signal them!’ Gallus growled. At once, the XI Claudia aquilifer hefted the grubby ruby bull banner in the air and waved it from side to side. At once, the man leading the IV Scythica saw this and immediately, he and his legion hurried on towards the oasis.
Pavo heard the terse and panicked jabberings of the approaching men. ‘Sir, something’s not right.’
‘Aye, they’re marching in full armour,’ Gallus replied with a frown.
‘And when they saw us they panicked – they thought we were someone else.’
‘I told you,’ a voice croaked behind them. ‘We’re dead men!’
They turned to see Tribunus Ovidius, now fully awake. His eyes bulged now more than ever before and he pointed to the south-east, beyond the Scythica men. The horizon was empty. The ferocious heat haze offered nothing. ‘They’re coming. Every man on these sands will die!’ At this, Quadratus stomped over to grasp him by the collar, raising a clenched fist.
‘Strike me again and I’ll see to it that you are flogged and executed,’ the man spat, his pupils dilated and a white froth gathering at the corners of his mouth.
‘Strike a deserter and I’ll give you a year of my wage purse!’ another voice countered.
All heads turned to the approaching IV Scythica column. The figure leading them strode forward – a furious-looking officer. His skin was dark as coal, his brow bent like an angered bull’s. Pavo noticed that the ragged, bleached white tunic he wore under his mail vest bore a broad, faded purple stripe on the shoulder. The mark of a primus pilus, just like Felix wore. So this was Ovidius’ second in command.
‘This cur deserves no respect. He deserted us three nights past,’ the primus pilus stabbed his finger at the chest of Ovidius and lowered his voice, ‘and he left his men to die.’
Tribunus Ovidius wriggled in Quadratus’ grip and made to protest, only to be silenced by a growl and a re-clenched fist.
‘I guessed as much,’ Gallus said.
The dark-skinned primus pilus tore his sour glare away from Ovidius to eye Gallus and the ragged vexillatio. His eyes settled upon the frayed and filthy standards. ‘The Flavia Firma?’ he said upon recognising the dark-blue Chi Rho banner. Then he looked to the tattered remains of the XI Claudia’s ruby bull banner. ‘And what legion is this?’ he frowned. ‘What are you doing so far from Roman lands? We thought we were alone out here.’
Pavo saw Gallus and Carbo exchange a furtive glance.
Gallus was first to reply; ‘Perhaps we should find shade and water, then we can - ’
‘There is no time!’ the primus pilus cut him off, his eyes widening as he shot glances over his shoulder to the south-east.