Nick Brown: The Siege

Made of thick, resilient leather, the belts were usually decorated with metal plates, inscriptions or other adornments. Cassius, however, had settled on a simple example with a modest iron buckle. Next off was his dagger, which hung in its own scabbard on the right. These short, wide blades had been in use for centuries and made for formidable sidearms. Cassius lay down both weapons next to his blanket and was about to continue undressing when Simo’s broad features emerged out of the darkness in front of him.

‘I’d keep your tunic on if I were you, sir. And here’s your cloak too.’

Nothing more than a rectangle of heavy wool, the cloak was another piece of standard legionary equipment Cassius was yet to use.

‘Surely it won’t be that cold?’

‘I believe it will, sir,’ Simo said firmly.

‘Very well.’ Cassius took the cloak. He had learned to trust Simo’s judgement on such matters.

‘Dinner won’t be a moment, sir. I must just attend to a few other tasks while we still have a little light.’

Cassius sat down on the blankets and pulled the cloak over him, leaning back against the rock. Despite the uneven ground beneath, it felt good to be still and rest his tired limbs. Having never ridden so consistently in his life, he had acquired an unpleasant set of bruises on his thighs and backside. At least the painful blisters on his fingers seemed to be drying out. This was not the only change to them. Since the beginning of training, his hands had been worked so hard that he had actually noticed his fingers increase in size.

Aside from the sounds of Simo going about his work, all was quiet. The darkened plain stretched away in front of him, with only the distant lights of Nessara to remind him where they had come from. He lay down and tried to find a moment’s relief from thoughts of Alauran and what turmoil the next few days might bring.

The sky above was cloudless, lighter than the inky black around him, and he passed the time by identifying the few stars he knew. He had long since forgotten the names but one of his childhood tutors had made a point of showing him the most recognisable constellations. They had used the star catalogues within Ptolemy’s Almagest , of which his father had a good copy. Tracing lines between the stars with his fingers, Cassius succeeded in losing himself for a while, only to be interrupted by Simo, who emerged out of the dark proffering a wooden plate.

‘And what delights have you prepared for me?’

‘Some spiced pork, sir, some bread, a few dried apricots also.’

‘It’ll have to do. I’m becoming used to eating like a peasant. I must say though, Simo, you’re doing rather well with this outdoor stuff. You’ve travelled widely in the province?’

‘No, sir. My work kept me at my master’s house or one of his other premises. This is the furthest I have ever been.’ Simo’s usual immaculately neutral tone wavered. ‘And this is the longest I have spent away from the city.’

‘I see.’

‘I’ll just fetch your wine, sir.’

Cassius found the pork with his fingers. He was about to take a bite when he heard a noise from behind the boulder. It sounded like the scuffing of feet.

Warily lowering the plate to the ground and freeing himself from the coverings, Cassius reached for his sword and slid it gently out of the leather scabbard. Simo was not close enough to hear a whisper so he got to his feet and circled the boulder, crouching low. The slab of rock was easily ten feet across and it wouldn’t have been difficult for some unseen foe to hide there, waiting to strike when the two of them were off their guard.

As the angle of the sword changed, the blade caught the moonlight. Cassius stared down at it, eroding what little night vision he had gained. Cursing his stupidity and blinking the glare away, he rounded the boulder and gazed into the darkness. The hillside was as black as the plain and might have masked a hundred men. He could barely see two yards.

‘Sir?’

Ignoring Simo, Cassius started up the slope, only to catch his right boot on something. He jumped back and thought he’d perhaps startled a snake. Then he heard a sniff and his fears evaporated. His sight had improved enough to see the eye, then the muzzle, then the head of one of the horses. Cassius kicked the ground and the horse moved away with a grunt, taking the rope with it. He turned away and met Simo as he rounded the boulder.

‘Is something wrong, sir?’ the Gaul whispered, his hand on his dagger.

‘Just one of the horses. I heard something and thought I should investigate.’

‘Sir, it may be wise for me to stay awake for the hours of darkness. Please — your wine awaits.’

Cassius followed him back into the little camp and replaced his sword in the scabbard. Simo had decanted the wine into a small jug, which he handed over once Cassius was back under the blankets.

‘Apologies, sir. I forgot to pack anything smaller.’

As Simo arranged his own makeshift bed, Cassius drained the jug, savouring every mouthful, despite the low quality of the wine. Determined to keep a clear head, he had been limiting his intake since arriving in Syria, but felt present circumstances justified a little indulgence.

‘Sir, I’ll go and take a brief look round if I may. You can try to get some sleep.’

‘Try is probably all I’ll do. You can take first watch but I don’t intend for you to keep watch all night, servant or not. Wake me in a few hours and I shall take over. It’s been a long day for us both and we’ll need our wits about us tomorrow.’

‘That’s very kind of you, sir,’ Simo said as he moved away.

‘Not at all.’

Wishing to take advantage of the wine’s effects, Cassius lay down again and pulled the blankets up under his chin. Though the air was still cold on his face, his body soon warmed up and he was surprised to find himself appreciating the rediscovered sensation of bedding down under the night sky. It reminded him of his childhood and more innocent times, thoughts of which inevitably led him back to his present predicament.

Even so, the combination of the wine and the strains of the day was a potent one, and he soon drifted off into a deep, welcome slumber.

‘Ah. I was hoping you would wake of your own accord, sir.’

Cassius yawned and opened his eyes. He expected the black of night, not blinding sunlight.

‘It’s dawn already?’

‘A little past that actually, sir.’ Simo handed Cassius his canteen. He looked exactly as he had the previous evening, though his eyes were slightly bloodshot. The canteen was full; the metal chilled Cassius’ fingers.

‘Why didn’t you wake me, man? Don’t tell me you’ve been up all night?’

‘Actually I lay down for most of it, sir. I was quite warm enough and I took to walking round the camp every hour or so. There was nothing to cause alarm, just the howl of a dog in the distance. I thought it best to let you sleep, bearing in mind what the rest of the day holds.’

Cassius stood up and let the blankets fall off him.

‘I suppose I should be grateful. But next time I give you an instruction, follow it. And don’t blame me if you fall off your horse.’

Simo had already done most of the packing and at Cassius’ insistence there was no breakfast, just more water, half of which was already gone. Assuming Cotta’s estimate was correct, they would reach Alauran mid-morning, so Cassius also allowed Simo to give a little to the horses.

He had just buckled his sword belt when Simo led his mount over. Feeling rather reinvigorated by his night’s rest, he launched himself up into the saddle and took the reins. Guiding the animal down on to the edge of the plain, he checked the horizon for any sign of movement.