Centurion c-8 Page 5

  'No. Not yet,' Longinus replied quietly, his gaze fixed on the approaching rider.

  'Parthians.' Amatius scratched his chin nervously. 'What do they want?'

  Longinus tightened his grip round the handle of his sword and muttered, 'We'll know soon enough.'

  08 Centurion

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The Parthian stopped a short distance from the Roman officers and bowed his head. He pulled the silk scarf from about his face to reveal dark features. Cato saw that he wore smears of kohl round his eyes and had a neatly trimmed moustache and beard. He smiled slightly before speaking in faintly accented Latin.

  'My master, Prince Metaxas, sends his greetings, and would speak with the governor of the province of Syria.' He glanced over the Roman officers. 'I assume that one of you finely dressed officers can send word to the man I seek.'

  Longinus puffed his chest out irritably. 'I am Cassius Longinus, governor of Syria and commander of the army of the eastern Empire. What does your master want?'

  'Prince Metaxas has been sent by our king to discuss certain disputes between Parthia and Rome, in the hope that the two powers might resolve these difficulties without recourse to force. Our king does not wish to cause any unnecessary loss of life amongst the ranks of your fine legions.'

  'Oh, is that right?' Legate Amatius bristled. 'Well, let's just see how well his dandy little horsemen do when they come up against the Tenth.'

  'Quiet!' Longinus snapped at his subordinate. He glared at Amatius and then turned back to the Parthian emissary. 'I will speak to your master. Bring him here.'

  The Parthian flashed a smile. 'Alas, my master has heard that some Romans have not always honoured the traditions of the truce.'

  Longinus' expression darkened as he replied coldly, 'You dare to accuse me of such infamy?'

  'Of course not, my lord. Not you, as such.'

  'Then bring your master here to talk to me. If he has the stomach for it.'

  'The stomach?' The Parthian was puzzled. 'Forgive me, my lord, I am uncertain of this idiom.'

  'Tell your master that I will not speak with his slave. Tell him that I will speak to him here and now, if he has the courage to venture from behind his escort.'

  'I would gladly tell him this, but I would anticipate that he might respond to your offer in kind.' The Parthian gestured at the other officers and the cavalry of Macro's cohort. 'I am sure that so great a general as yourself would be brave enough to venture beyond the protection of such a formidable-looking bodyguard. But, in deference to your understandable anxieties, my master has permitted me to suggest that you and he meet between our forces.'

  Longinus glanced briefly at the open ground between the camp and the richly robed horsemen. 'Alone, you say?'

  'Yes, my lord.'

  'Don't do it, sir,' Amatius muttered. 'Bound to be some sort of barbarian trick. You've no idea what treachery that kind are capable of.'

  Macro cleared his throat. 'I don't know. I doubt there's much harm this Prince Metaxas could do by himself.'

  Amatius rounded on Macro. 'What the hell do you know, Prefect? The Parthians could shoot the governor down well before he even reached the spot.'

  Macro shrugged. 'That's possible, sir. But they'd risk hitting their own man too. Besides, there's the question of losing face. If the governor backed down… Well, I'm sure that at least the people back in Rome would understand.'

  'My lords!' The Parthian raised a hand. 'I beg your pardon for intervening in your dispute, but if you deem such a meeting to present too much of a danger then might I suggest that both supporting forces retreat to well beyond bowshot, and that my prince and the governor meet with, say, three companions each? Would that not assuage your suspicions and fears?'

  'Fears?' Longinus bristled. 'I'm not afraid, Parthian. Romans fear no one, least of all the barbarians of the east.'

  'I am delighted to hear that, my lord. In which case, may I inform my master that you and your companions will meet with him?'

  Cato tried to hide his amusement that the governor had been so easily manoeuvred into consenting to the Parthian's offer. Longinus, however, was furious and took a while to recover control of himself. As he glared round he caught sight of Cato's expression and he thrust out his finger. 'Centurion Cato, you will accompany me, since you seem to be in such good humour. You, your friend Macro and Legate Amatius. The rest of you, join those mounted men. You will remain here. If I call for you, you come to our aid as swiftly as possible. Go!'

  He turned back to the Parthian and growled, 'Tell your master we will meet – once the rest of his men have retired to a safe distance.'

  'Very well, my lord.'The Parthian bowed his head, and at once turned his mount round and galloped back towards his companions, before there was any chance for the governor to change the conditions of the meeting. As they watched him go Macro turned to Cato and spoke quietly.

  'Thank you so very much for involving me.'

  'Sorry, sir.' Cato gestured towards the mounted squadron. 'I'd, er, better find myself a horse.'

  'Fine.You do that. Before you cause any more trouble.'

  While Cato trotted off in the wake of the other officers, Amatius, Macro and the governor watched as the Parthians wheeled their horses round and walked them away, leaving behind the emissary, the standard-bearer and two others. Macro puffed his cheeks out.

  'Any idea what they might want, sir?'

  'No. Not a clue.' Longinus was silent for a moment before he continued. 'I don't understand how they got so close to the army without being spotted. Our patrols and frontier posts must be blind. Someone's going to pay for this,' he concluded sourly.

  At the sound of an approaching horse the three officers glanced round as Cato rode up to them and reined in. Longinus glanced at his companions. 'Keep your eyes open. At the first sign of danger, you shout a warning and lay into the bastards. But remember, this is a truce. We only make a move if they act first. So keep your hands clear of your weapons and in full view.'

  Amatius sniffed. 'Let's hope their prince tells his people to do the same.'

  'Quite.' Longinus nodded, then drew a deep breath to calm his nerves. 'Better get on with it then. Let's go.'

  He gently dug the heels of his calfskin boots into the flanks of his horse and urged it forward.The others followed suit and the small party of Romans warily picked their way across the open ground towards the Parthians. As he rode a short distance behind and to one side of his commander Cato had to contain the impulse to rest his hand on the pommel of his sword. Instead he gripped the reins in both hands and stiffened his back so that he might appear haughty and fearless to the Parthians. But inside his stomach was a tight knot of fear and his heart pounded in his chest. He felt contempt for himself even as he struggled to maintain his brave facade. A glance to his side revealed Macro staring intently at the Parthians, his expression curious and appraising rather than tense and fearful. Cato snatched at the crumb of comfort that his fearless friend would be more than a match for any Parthian warrior that ever lived if the enemy had planned any treachery.

  The two parties of horsemen drew closer to each other, the silence and stillness of the midday broken only by the sound of horses' hooves scraping and thumping the uneven ground. Cato saw the elaborate decoration on the Parthians' bow cases and the fine quality of their robes. Their mounts were smaller than the Roman horses, and seemed to be well cared for, muscular and moving with a fluid grace. There was little to distinguish the Parthians in their accoutrements, except that the man carrying the standard had a large wicker basket hanging from his saddle. By mutual consent the two sides drew up two spears'length apart and for a moment exchanged searching stares. Then the tallest of the Parthians suddenly pulled aside his face cloth and began to speak.

  The emissary listened intently and then bowed his head before turning to the Romans.

  'The prince wishes you eternal good health and prosperity. For you, your emperor and all your people. He also wishes to commen
d you on the fine lands you have acquired on behalf of Rome. He says that he was most impressed by your lines of watchtowers and forward outposts that guard the approaches to Antioch. They presented something of a challenge for us to approach and pass through unseen.'

  Longinus' lips pressed together in a thin line as he heard the last words and his free hand momentarily clenched. Then he raised it suddenly.

  'That's enough of the courtesies. I take it we're not here to discuss the details of your sightseeing. Get to the point. What does the prince want?'

  There was a brief exchange between the emissary and the prince before the former spoke again. 'Parthia demands that Rome desists from any attempt to spread its influence any further towards the Euphrates.'

  'Rome has every right to protect her frontiers,' Longinus responded firmly.

  'Ah, but your frontiers seem to have a habit of creeping forward, like thieves towards the homes of fresh victims.'

  'What do you mean? We still honour the existing treaty.'

  'Between Parthia and Rome, yes,' the emissary conceded. 'But what of your arrangement with Palmyra? You use her lands as your own and your soldiers march up to the very borders of Parthia.'

  'King Vabathus has signed a treaty with Rome,' Longinus said evenly. The prince snorted as the words were translated for him. Then he launched into a long outburst whose ill-humour was apparent to the Romans even before the emissary attempted to speak for his master. Macro glanced at Cato and raised his eyes wearily. Cato did not respond. His friend was a professional soldier to the core, but he hated any aspect of politics or diplomacy and it was clear to Cato that Macro's presence at this tense encounter was something of a liability for the Roman side. Cato widened his eyes and did his best to shoot a warning look at his friend. Macro briefly raised a questioning eyebrow and then shrugged slightly as the emissary spoke for his master.

  'Prince Metaxas says that the true intent of your treaty is a poorly kept secret. Everyone knows that it is merely a move towards annexation of Palmyra.'

  'King Vabathus entered into the treaty freely enough.'

  'And if the king, or a successor, was to decide that the treaty should be ended? What then?'

  Longinus had already taken the bait once, and paused a moment to consider a suitable response. 'But there is no question of that happening. Palmyra and Rome are partners.'

  The Parthian prince laughed harshly and stabbed his finger towards the Roman governor as he made his response.

  'Partners?' the emissary translated. 'The only partners you have are Vabathus and his cronies. The great houses of Palmyran aristocracy denounce the treaty openly. There are even those in the royal palace who think the king little more than a traitor.Your treaty is a sham, and soon the king will be forced to renounce it. And if he fails to do that you can be sure that his successor will cut the chains that bind Palmyra to Rome. If Rome attempts to intervene in Palmyran affairs by force, then Parthia will do all it can to protect its neighbour from Roman aggression.'

  Now it was Longinus' turn to laugh. 'Parthia the protector? That's a new one! Your desire to seize Palmyra is transparent. What makes you think the people of Palmyra will welcome Parthian intervention?'

  'We have our reasons to believe they will. And we have made it known that we will protect their independence. From Rome and any other interlopers.'

  'And you think they believe that? Why should they have any more faith in your good intentions than ours?'

  'Because we have not sent soldiers into their lands to build fortifications that will slowly but surely become the bars of their cage.Already you have attempted to build a fort on the very banks of the Euphrates, and before long the camps of Roman armies will sprout along the banks of the river, like knives aimed at the throat of Parthia.'

  Macro leaned towards Cato and whispered, 'These Parthian buggers are partial to a poetic turn of phrase, aren't they?'

  'Shh!' Cato hissed as loudly as he dared. There was a pause as the Parthian emissary, Longinus and the legate of the Tenth turned to look at Macro and Cato before the emissary resumed his master's diatribe.

  'Parthia will not tolerate such naked aggression.The fort was a clear sign of Roman intentions and you are warned not to attempt any such incursions again.'

  'Was?' Longinus interrupted. 'What has happened to the fort?'

  'It has been razed.'

  'And the auxiliary cohort sent to construct it. What of them?'

  'They were destroyed.'

  'Destroyed?' Longinus was startled. 'What of the prisoners? Where are they?'

  'Regrettably, there are no prisoners.'

  'Bastards,' Legate Amatius grumbled. 'Murdering swine.'

  The emissary shrugged. 'They did not surrender. Our men had no choice but to wipe them out.'

  Longinus was silent for a moment before he responded. 'Five hundred men, and one of the best field officers in the army. Centurion Castor…' He glared at the Parthian prince. 'Tell your master that this is an act of war.'

  Metaxas smiled as his emissary translated his reply. 'Which? The destruction of your cohort, or the threat it posed to our sovereignty?'

  'Don't try to confuse the issue!' Longinus snapped. 'He knows what I mean. When word of this reaches the ears of the Emperor I doubt there is any power in this world that will prevent him from wreaking a terrible revenge on Parthia. And it will be a fate you have drawn down on yourselves.'

  'We have no wish to provoke war, my general.'

  'Bollocks!' Amatius snorted. 'You wipe out one of our cohorts and you say you don't wish to provoke a war!' The legate's hand slipped towards the handle of his sword and the gesture was noticed at once by the Parthians.With a sudden rasp one of the prince's escorts drew his sword and the curved blade glinted in the sunlight. Prince Metaxas snapped an order at the man and with a brief show of reluctance he returned the blade to its scabbard.

  'Sir.' Cato spoke softly to the legate. 'I'd take your hand off your sword.'

  Amatius' nostrils flared as his eyes fixed on Cato.Then he blinked and nodded and released his grip. 'All right then. But there will be a reckoning for Centurion Castor and the men of that cohort. One day.'

  The emissary was unimpressed. 'Perhaps, but not in this life. Not if Rome truly values peace on its eastern frontier. My master says that you are to remove your forces from the lands of Palmyra. Furthermore, you are not to intervene in its internal politics. Breach of either condition will force Parthia to take military action. Much as the prince, and his father, King Gotarzes, desire peace, they will be forced to wage war on Rome. Such a war would cost Rome dearly. Many more of your countrymen would share the fate of Crassus and his legions. Those are the words of my master,' the emissary concluded. 'You have heard our warning, my lord, and there is no more to be said.'

  The Parthian prince made one last comment to his emissary and then gestured to his companion carrying the wicker basket on his saddle. The man unlooped the handles from his saddle horn and let the basket drop heavily to the ground beside his horse. Then the Parthians wheeled their horses round and the emissary spoke to the Romans one last time.

  'My master bids you accept a gift. A gift plucked from the banks of the Euphrates. Consider it a token of the future should you choose to defy the kingdom of Parthia.'

  The Parthians spurred their horses into a gallop and pounded back towards the distant line of their comrades who were already breaking formation to turn away from Antioch and disappear back into the ravine. For a moment the Romans watched them depart through the dust kicked up by their horses. Then Longinus turned his gaze to the wicker basket lying on the rocky soil. He gestured towards it.

  'Centurion Cato.'

  'Sir?'

  'See what's in there.'

  'Yes, sir.' Cato slipped his leg over the saddle horns and dropped to the ground. He approached the basket cautiously, as if it might be filled with snakes or scorpions. Swallowing, he reached down and pulled the handles apart. Inside there was a plain earthen jar, the size
of a large watermelon. The bottom had cracked when the basket hit the ground and the odour of olive oil reached Cato's nose as it slowly drained through the fibres of the basket. A dark tangled mass glistened in the top of the jar, and as the oil continued to drain it settled and gleamed on the domed surface beneath.

  'What is it?' Amatius snapped. 'Show us, man!'

  Cato felt the bile rising in his throat as he leaned forward and grasped the oily dark tendrils. With gritted teeth he drew the heavy burden from the jar and raised it aloft. Oil ran down the ashen skin of the severed head and dripped from its parted lips on to the parched soil below.

  Legate Amatius grimaced as he stared at the grisly spectacle. 'Centurion Castor.'

  08 Centurion

  CHAPTER FIVE

  'Gentlemen.' Cassius Longinus stared solemnly round the banqueting hall of his headquarters. He stood on a podium and surveyed the expressions of the centurions, tribunes and legates assembled before him.'War with Parthia has come.'

  The officers exchanged glances and an excited murmur rippled across the hall before it died away and every face turned to the governor of Syria with an eager expression. News of the party of Parthian horsemen that had appeared before the very walls of Antioch the previous day had swept through the camp and the streets of the city. The rumour-mongers had been tirelessly at work, until the event portended everything from an historic alliance between Rome and Parthia to the mortal terror of the prospect of a vast Parthian army no more than a day's march away intent on the slaughter of every man, woman and child in Antioch. Longinus' first words had eliminated some of the more fanciful notions and now his officers listened in tense anticipation for more detail.The governor waited until there was complete silence before he continued.

  'Some days ago, the Parthians surprised one of our outposts and slaughtered the garrison. Our visitors presented us with the head of its commander, Centurion Castor of the Tenth Legion.'

  The men standing around Cato and Macro grumbled angrily and Macro nudged his companion and muttered, 'Pity the Parthians that come up against our lot.This has the makings of some good fighting.'