by Brown, Nick
Kalderon and his man stood side by side, blades bloodied, breathing hard.
Ilaha hauled himself to his feet. His unblinking eyes ran over the dead and injured.
One of the ethnarchs put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Lord Ilaha, are you—’
Ilaha appeared not to have noticed him. ‘They … they …’
Mushannaf was groaning, now holding a handful of broken teeth. Enzarri was on his back, still entranced by his mutilated arm.
Ilaha drew his sword.
‘Yes,’ hissed Kalderon. ‘Finish the traitors.’
Yemanek held up his hand. ‘Wait. Perhaps—’
‘Now is not the time for mercy,’ said another of the ethnarchs. ‘You would do the same.’
Ilaha still hadn’t blinked. He extended his arm and put the tip of his sword against Enzarri’s heart.
‘We should question them,’ said Gutha. ‘Identify any other conspirators.’
Ilaha drove the blade in.
As blood coloured his tunic, Enzarri’s head fell back and his body shook. Satisfied that he’d done enough to kill him, Ilaha turned his attention to Mushannaf.
Gutha tried again. ‘Lord Ilaha, we must question him.’
This time, Ilaha struck the heart through the back. He seemed to enjoy skewering Mushannaf and moving the blade around until the ethnarch stopped screaming and trying to reach back and pull out the sword. When it was over, Ilaha retracted the blade, then dropped it.
‘Commander.’
Gutha turned to the guard. ‘What is it?’
‘Sir, there’s a fire in the compound and another in the town. It seems it was done deliberately. Theomestor and Oblachus have gone to investigate.’
Gutha hung his axe from his shoulder and walked over to Ilaha. ‘You must come with me. Somewhere safe.’
Cassius didn’t know why he was arguing. They had halted the cart halfway between the gate and the platform and it was surely only a matter of time before the guards came forward to investigate.
Khalima was in no doubt about the wisdom of the prearranged strategy. ‘We will drop my warriors here, then distract the guards long enough for them to strike.’
‘But the men at the gate simply did as Reyazz told them,’ countered Cassius. ‘These men might cooperate too.’
‘This is no time for half-measures, Roman. All it takes is one troublemaker and we’re finished. We stick to the plan.’
Cassius belatedly realised he was arguing with himself. His protest wasn’t based on logic; just the messy business of killing.
‘Do what you must.’
After a few brief orders, the men dropped quietly to the ground and slipped away into the darkness. Khalima moved up behind Reyazz and said something in his ear. He then waited for the men to get in position before ordering the cart forward.
There were two lanterns: one hanging from the crane, one up on the platform. Cassius saw three guards in front of the covered stone, three more on the ground. One called out as the cart approached. Prompted by Khalima, Reyazz replied. The guards watched warily as the driver reined in.
As Khalima jumped down, the same guard spoke to him. The Saracen laughed and pointed at the sun on his tunic. As the guard peered at it, he swung the lantern at his head, knocking him to the ground.
Dark figures leaped out from behind the crane, the first of them driving a blade into the second guard’s neck. Before the third man could even reach for his sword, he’d been struck too.
Reyazz could no longer contain himself and tried to intervene but Adayyid grabbed him round the neck and used the knife to change his mind.
Cassius heard blow after blow from the Saracens’ blades. He looked up at the platform; the other three guards seemed to have lasted no longer than their compatriots. As he jumped down, Khalima’s men were already dragging the dead men out of the way. Cassius covered his mouth as the tang of freshly spilled blood reached him.
Khalima spoke to Adayyid, who prodded Reyazz along the bench. As soon as the young man’s feet were close enough, Khalima grabbed an ankle and pulled. Reyazz fell five feet straight onto his back. Cassius actually heard the air knocked out of him but Khalima wasn’t finished. He grabbed him round the throat and spat more vicious words into his ear before letting Adayyid pick him up.
‘Don’t worry,’ the Saracen told Cassius. ‘He won’t try anything again.’
Cassius looked back at the gate. None of the guards were on the move.
Unsurprisingly, the lantern Khalima had used as a weapon had gone out. He took the one hanging from the crane and handed it to Cassius. ‘Your turn. I know nothing about these devices.’
‘I used to watch them down at the docks in Ravenna. Simple mechanics. You’d better bring our friend, though.’
Cassius looked up at the crane, which was still facing the platform. Below the pulley were two straps forming a cradle to be placed under the stone. There wasn’t enough slack to reach the platform so Cassius ran to the rear of the machine, opened the locking clamp and took the rope off the winch. He then grabbed the straps and hurried up the steps.
The dead guards were nowhere to be seen, though there was a wide puddle of blood next to the lantern. The Saracens had withdrawn to the edges of the platform, as far from the stone as they could get. Cassius whipped the cover off, then took the straps and fitted each one under the rounded base. As he walked back across the front of the platform he heard a hollow sound underneath him.
He tapped downwards with his boot and realised he was standing not on rock but on wood. With no time to investigate further, he hurried down to the crane.
‘Back the cart up to the platform,’ he told Khalima. ‘We only have to lift it an inch or two, swing it forward, then lower it.’
Grabbing the thick rope once more, Cassius ran it back around the winch then fed the end through the locking clamp.
‘I’ll need two men on the rope and the others pulling.’
Khalima gave the orders and the Saracens took their places.
Cassius joined the men on one of the spindles. ‘Ready? Heave.’
Simo watched the bleary-eyed tribesmen staggering out of their tents to look across the road at the burning compound. Thick tongues of flame could now be seen in at least five different places, and speeding lanterns and torches left orange streaks in the darkness. Shouts drifted across the canyon as the warriors tried to organise themselves.
Andal and the auxiliaries also looked on while doing their best to calm the mounts. Like them, Simo had four horses roped to his own. They were standing in the corral, waiting for the signal. The Gaul spoke soothing words to his horse but it and the other animals were growing increasingly agitated by the fire and the noise.
Of all the dangerous, hateful places he had found himself while in the service of Master Cassius, he reckoned this to be the worst. Though he knew little comfort lay beyond the outer gate, he longed for the moment when they would ride out onto the road.
None of the men saw or heard him pray. ‘Deliver us from this hellish place. Please, Lord, deliver us.’
Leaving the others in cover, Indavara peered around the courtyard arch. The guards were still in place by the gate but were now looking along the road. The earlier quiet was long gone but there was little attention on this end of the town. It was the perfect time to strike.
Indavara looked up the slope but there was no sign of Yorvah returning to confirm the signal had been given.
Come on, Corbulo. Has to be now.
Cassius couldn’t work out what was wrong. They had tried twice but the stone hadn’t moved even an inch.
‘Shit.’ He grabbed a lantern and inspected the locking clamp, the winch, the arm and the rope. Everything seemed to be in order.
‘I don’t know. I don’t know.’
Adayyid was guarding Reyazz. He pushed him towards the crane. ‘You – help him.’
The engineer did nothing but curse at his captors in Nabatean.
Still holding the lantern, Cassius s
printed up the steps and leaned across the rock. He examined the complicated workings of the pulleys, checking the blocks and each individual rope. Everything seemed to be running freely.
‘What is it?’ he whispered to himself. ‘What in Hades is wrong?’
He arrived back at the crane to find Reyazz spreadeagled on the ground, Khalima on his back. The Saracen was holding the young man by the hair and waving his dagger in his face.
‘He won’t help,’ explained Adayyid.
‘Yes he will,’ said Khalima.
Reyazz started laughing.
Khalima pushed the tip of the knife into his cheek.
‘Wait,’ said Cassius.
‘We don’t have time to wait!’ snapped Khalima. ‘He said we’re so stupid we’ll never work out what we’re doing wrong.’
‘Just give me a minute,’ pleaded Cassius.
He looked at the crane. He knew the answer was right in front of him but he couldn’t see it. Focusing on the winch, he thought of the Fortuna Redux, the ship he’d sailed on during their last assignment.
‘Tell the men to try again.’
Cassius kept his eyes on the winch. As the men heaved on the spindles, he realised the rope was slipping. That was it. He’d seen it on the winches aboard the Fortuna – the rope had to be wrapped around four or more times to gain sufficient grip.
‘Let go.’
He took the rope from the men manning the locking clamp and ran it around the winch an additional two times. ‘Let’s try it now.’
With those at the rear anchoring the rope, Cassius lent his efforts to one of the spindles. The crane creaked and groaned as the rope pulled tight. The men on the platform called out. The rope moved three or four inches.
‘That’ll do.’ He returned to the men at the rear. ‘Lock it off.’
This was done by jamming the rope between two wooden wheels with triangular teeth.
Cassius noted the sour look on Reyazz’s face.
‘Ha!’ Khalima pushed his head down as he got off him.
‘Now we have to swing it over to the edge and lower it.’
Cassius fetched a coil of rope from the cart and ran back up to the platform, where he found the stone now off the ground. He ran the rope around the lifting line then dropped both ends over the edge of the platform. On his way back down he grabbed Khalima and two others. The four of them took hold of the rope and walked backwards, pulling until the stone was close enough to the edge.
With prompting from Cassius, Khalima’s men released the lock and let out the lifting line. The stone scraped down the rock beneath the platform then a gentle thud confirmed it was down.
‘We’re there – Adayyid, give the signal!’
The Saracen grabbed a bow from the cart. Another man used a lantern to light an arrow topped with a wrapping of oiled skin. Adayyid nocked it and aimed the bow skyward.
Gutha sat Ilaha down in a chair. ‘You must stay here.’
Ilaha gazed vacantly at his hands, which were grazed and spotted with blood.
Mother appeared from an antechamber, arms outstretched, robes trailing on the floor. ‘My son, what happened? What happened?’
Gutha hurried out into the passageway and shut the door behind him. A pair of guards were waiting outside.
‘Stay with him. Let no one approach.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Steadying the axe with one hand, Gutha ran back to the meeting room. He heard the shouts long before he saw anyone. The bodies had been laid out in the passageway and covered with blankets. A dozen guards had gathered outside the door. Kalderon was remonstrating with the senior men, trying to get past. As usual, Yemanek was playing peacemaker.
‘Gutha, thank the gods,’ said Kalderon. ‘Get these cretins out of my way.’
‘Sir, it might be better if you remain here for now.’
‘What? If we are under attack you must allow me to help.’
‘Please,’ said Gutha. ‘Galanaq is our territory. I need to establish what’s going on. I will keep you informed.’
‘Our men are out there,’ said another of the ethnarchs.
‘Just give me a little time.’
‘He is right,’ Yemanek told Kalderon. ‘This is Lord Ilaha’s domain.’ He turned to Gutha. ‘Tell us immediately you know more.’
The ethnarch waved the others back into the room.
Kalderon gripped Gutha’s arm. ‘I’m coming with you.’
Gutha spoke into the older man’s ear. ‘Somebody must watch the other ethnarchs – any one of them might be involved in this plot. Lord Ilaha will be most grateful.’
Kalderon glanced back into the room and made his decision swiftly. ‘Very well.’
Gutha addressed the guards. ‘Half of you stay here. The rest with me.’
He sprinted off down the passageway.
XXXI
The flaming arrow was still in the air when Andal ordered Simo’s group to move out. The men immediately mounted up but there was a long wait while they each led their horses clear of the corral. Simo was last to leave and by the time he reached the track, there were numerous riders and men in the way. Some were still watching the burning compound, some were running to help, others were moving their horses away in case the fire spread. Though the sheer weight of numbers slowed them down, Simo realised the chaos was undoubtedly working to their advantage: no one had given them so much as a second glance.
Indavara heard Yorvah running down the path. ‘Here he comes.’
Mercator and the other auxiliaries gathered around him as the guard officer arrived.
‘I saw the arrow. It’s time.’
Mercator nodded at his tunic; there were drops of blood across the front. ‘What happened?’
‘There was a man posted up where the slope meets the wall. I … dealt with it.’
Andal clapped the younger guard officer on the shoulder.
Indavara turned to Mercator. ‘Get as close as you can to the gate then wait.’
‘How will we know when you’ve taken the archers out?’
‘You’ll know.’
Indavara ran past the buildings and up the slope. As he neared the side of the canyon, the outer wall became low enough for him to climb up. Once there, he looked east and was surprised to see the extent of the fire – no wonder the guards were staring. He retrieved a heavy bag from his pack then set off.
The uneven surface was awkward but the moonlight allowed him to make out the edges and stay in the middle. He kept low, so low that the fingers of his free hand dragged across the stone. He ignored the lights and the noise to his left, the black nothingness to his right; and he didn’t look at the tower until he was twenty feet away.
Had there been one or two archers, he might have considered taking them out from a distance, but once alerted they would have the upper hand. With the surround for protection and such a height advantage, even one man could keep firing and control the gate. This way would be better – as long as they didn’t hear him coming.
His next steps were careful and slow. The top of the tower was about ten feet higher than the wall and he halted again when he had a good view of the men. The three were together on the town side of the tower, still preoccupied by the fire. They weren’t wearing helmets or armour.
Knowing the auxiliaries were waiting somewhere below, Indavara continued on until he was within touching distance of the tower. As he had previously noticed, there was only a three-foot gap between it and the wall.
He untied the twine that held the bag shut and tied it to his belt. He then planted his feet on the inner edge of the wall and let himself fall forward onto the tower. Now stretched across the gap, he checked the surface, hoping the top of the structure was similar to the bottom. He soon found a suitable crack between two bricks where the cement had dried out. He reached into the bag, took out one of the daggers and pushed the blade into the gap. He then located another void and placed a dagger there to form his second foothold.
Indavara whispered:
‘I beg for Fortuna’s favour.’
He put his left boot on one handle and tried his weight. It held. Then he brought across his right boot. The second dagger held too. He reached up to find the next gap.
Cassius hadn’t realised he was touching the black stone. While he crouched at the rear, Khalima and his men stayed at the front as the cart rumbled away from the crane. One of the Saracens suddenly pointed at the stone; a red light was shimmering across the honeycomb surface. Fearing some divine manifestation, Cassius let go and shrank backwards. Only then did he realise the effect had been caused by the lantern in his hand.
Then he noticed something twinkling within the stone itself. He moved the lantern and discovered a small hollow. Something inside was reflecting the light. Curious, he reached inside.
Khalima cried a warning but Cassius’s fingers had already found a smooth, circular shape. He gripped the edge and pulled it out.
In his hand was a highly polished mirror of red-tinged glass mounted in a wire frame. Thinking instantly of the mysterious light, he circled the rock, looking for another hollow. Despite the juddering of the cart, he persisted and eventually found a second hole – and a second mirror – in the opposite side of the stone. Khalima looked no less stunned than the other Saracens. Even though he knew they were nearing the gate, Cassius couldn’t stop himself. He found the third mirror embedded in the conical top of the stone, mounted at an angle.
‘I knew it.’
With the midday sun above, the light would have bounced off the three mirrors and projected the beam directly out of the rock. Ilaha had been standing right in front of it just before the light had appeared. All he would have needed was a cover of some kind to remove at the desired moment.
‘And there was a secret compartment on that platform. I’ll wager he had a man in there doing the voice. I knew it.’
‘Roman,’ said Khalima. ‘Sit down. We’re close.’
Cassius did so and put the mirrors inside his pack.
