Simon Scarrow - The Eagle In the Sand

'You're dismissed,' Scrofa concluded curtly. 'Postumus, see to it that they are escorted to their quarters and kept there.'

Postumus smirked. 'With pleasure, sir.'

07 The Eagle In the Sand

Postumus had them moved into one room to make guarding the two centurions easier. Macro endured the first few days of confinement well enough, while Cato sat at the window and gazed out over the fort towards the battlements, fretting at their inactivity. Around them the men went about their duties in a routine and unhurried manner. The watches changed at regular intervals. The men rose at first light, drilled for an hour and then took their morning meal. Afterwards there was more training until the sun had risen high enough to beat down on the fort and the surrounding desert in a searing glare.Then the soldiers retreated to the shade and only the sentries remained, patrolling the walls in the sweltering heat that even the lizards avoided as they clung to the rough plaster in patches of shadow and waited for the stifling midday hours to pass.

Their guards brought them food twice a day, and readily responded to any further requests for food and drink since the two centurions were technically not under arrest. Yet. The window of their shared room overlooked a narrow alley between the headquarters and the single storey hospital building. Cato had considered dropping down into the alley as a means of escaping their confinement, but then reflected that there was no point. What could it achieve? They couldn't leave the fort, and any attempt at escaping from their room would simply give Scrofa the excuse to have them placed in a cell. So Cato sat at his window and reflected on the wider situation with a growing sense of frustration, and anxiety.

The days passed, and every so often a patrol left the fort and marched off in a faint haze of dust that was visible for a while over the squat towers of the main gate.

Then, after several days, as the men of the cohort took shelter from the midday sun, Cato was sitting at the window, hands propping up his chin as he stared towards the distant foothills that marked the entrance to the wadi leading down to Heshaba.

'Centurion…' A voice called out softly.

Cato started, turned back to Macro. 'Did you hear that?' But his friend was sound asleep on his bed.

'Centurion, down here.'

Cato cautiously leaned out of the window, and saw Symeon pressed against the wall directly beneath him. The guide waved a hand and smiled a greeting.

'Symeon! What are you doing here?'

'Sh! Not so loud. I need to speak to you. Here, take this.'The guide took aim and tossed a loop of rope up to Cato, who caught it awkwardly and then glanced inside the room to find something secure to tie the end to. He turned back to Symeon.

'Wait.' Cato crossed the room to Macro and shook his friend's shoulder. Macro stirred, then sat up with a jerk, eyes blinking.

'What? What's going on?'

'Quiet,' Cato said softly and pressed the end of the rope into Macro's hand. 'Take that.'

Macro frowned as he looked down at the rope. 'What's this for?'

'Just take the strain and help me.' Cato crossed back to the window and nodded down into the alley, before grasping the rope and bracing one foot against the window sill. Macro felt the line tighten and grasped it in his powerful hands as someone scrambled up the wall outside, grunting with the effort. A moment later fingers groped over the sill and Symeon heaved himself up and over, and rolled on to the floor.

'What the hell are you doing here?' Macro asked in surprise.

Symeon looked past Macro towards the door with an alarmed expression, and pressed a finger to his lips.'Speak softly, Centurion.'

'Sorry,' Macro whispered. He clasped the guide's arm. 'Good to see you! A welcome change from the ugly mugs who bring our food. What's going on?'

'I tried to speak to you when I brought the procurator's message back to the fort, but the prefect sent me out the next day to visit the local villages, to try to get news of Bannus. I only returned this morning.'

'Well?' Cato raised his eyebrows. 'What's the mood in the villages?'

'Not good. I travelled on foot, claiming I was on my way back from the festival in Jerusalem, but they were still suspicious of me.The ones who did talk were reluctant to tell me too much, but it seems that Bannus is growing in strength every day. They say he has promised to prove to them that the Romans can be beaten. There are even rumours that he is a prophet. Or maybe the mashiah. And that he has powerful allies who will help sweep the Romans from our lands and cast them into the sea.'

Cato nodded bleakly.Then it was as he had feared and time was running out. The area around Bushir might break out in open revolt at any moment. He looked closely at the guide. 'Why did you return to the fort?'

'Centurion Florianus sent me. He told me to watch out for you. Make sure you were safe.'

'Safe?' Macro chuckled and gestured round the room. 'We're as safe as it gets cooped up in here. No chance of us coming to any grief. Unless this revolt actually happens. Then we're all for the chop, of course. Symeon, excuse us a moment.' He turned to Cato and continued in Latin. 'It's time we brought that scroll into play.'

Cato's hand instinctively went to the leather thong round his neck, as Symeon watched them curiously. 'I'm not sure. Once we use it then our true role out here is exposed. Longinus will know the score, and rush to hide his tracks.'

'If he is plotting something,' Macro reminded him. 'Look here, Cato. If he is plotting against the Emperor, then what's the worst that can happen? He plays clean and drops any plots he might be hatching against Claudius. He spends the rest of his days looking over his shoulder and acting the model citizen. The longer we wait to use that document, the less chance we have of keeping a lid on all the trouble that is brewing around here. We need to take command of the Second Illyrian now.We have to find Bannus and crush him before he has sufficient strength to destroy us and spread his rebellion. So what if we lose the chance to prove Longinus is a traitor, if indeed he really is? What's that against the prospect of letting Judaea flare up into open rebellion if we do nothing?'

Cato looked at his friend for a moment while he weighed up Macro's argument. It made sense, even if they failed to carry out Narcissus' original design to expose a conspiracy at the heart of the eastern empire. He nodded. 'All right then. How should we proceed? We can't just show Scrofa the scroll and tell him to move over.'

'Why not?'

'Supposing he decides to ignore it. Hush it up by having us thrown into a cell, and destroying the document?'

'Then we have to make sure there are witnesses at the time.'

'How? If we're in here, or in his office, he will have us on our own.'

'True.' Macro frowned, then clicked his fingers. 'All right, so we tell the other officers to join us for the meeting.'

'How?' Cato waved towards the door. 'We're being guarded.'

Macro nodded towards Symeon.'He can do it. He can get a message to the others. The ones that Scrofa hasn't bought out. Starting with Parmenion.'

'It might work,' Cato conceded. 'But how would Parmenion know when to act?'

'Symeon can keep watch. We tell the guards that we want to speak with Scrofa. The moment we are escorted from here, or Scrofa leaves his quarters and heads this way, Symeon fetches Parmenion and the others to join us. As soon as the witnesses turn up we produce the imperial authority and kick Scrofa out on his arse.'

'Very well.' Cato stroked his chin. 'But once you have control of the cohort, what happens next?'

'We have to deal with Bannus.'

'Then we're going to need more men.'