Simon Scarrow - The Eagle In the Sand

'We'll see you later then,' said Macro.

Symeon smiled, and turned to leave the house. When the door had closed behind him Macro let out a jaw-cracking yawn and arched his back. 'I'm all in. Bazim!'

The slave shuffled out of his small room at the end of the hall. 'Master?'

'You speak Greek?'

'Of course, master.'

'Good for you. Now show me to this room you've made ready.'

'Yes, master. Over here.' He led them to the rear of the courtyard and through a small passage, and they emerged in a walled garden. Bright plants climbed a trellis that stretched over the nearest half of the garden giving a cool shaded area. In one corner was a large room with a plain bed on either side. The sound of running water caught Macro's ear and he looked round in surprise.

'There's a fountain over there.' Macro crossed the garden and stood in front of the small basin into which a thin jet of water tumbled from the mouth of a brass lion on the wall. He reached his hands into the water and relished the cooling flow over his skin. In the time since he and Cato had first landed in Caesarea water had been such a precious commodity that to see a fountain here in Symeon's house seemed like something of a miracle.

Bazim approached from behind. 'My master thought you might like to rest where you could hear the sound of running water.'

Macro smiled. 'He was right. Bless him.'

He leaned forward and doused his head in the spray, shaking it off as he stood back up, sending glittering droplets across the paving slabs of the sunlit courtyard. For a moment, he was transported back to his childhood, to the long summer days when he swam with his friends in a small stream that fed into the Tiber. Then the moment was gone, and he was aware once again of how tired he felt. He trod wearily across to the room that Bazim had prepared.

'Hey, Cato! Where have you got to?'

Inside the room, his friend was already asleep, still in his borrowed robes, head resting on a bolster and mouth agape as he breathed heavily. Macro smiled. Cato had beat him to it, keen to fall asleep before Macro's snoring could keep him awake.As Macro kicked off his sandals he noticed that Cato still wore his. He hesitated a moment, then padded over to his friend and pulled the sandals off gently and placed them on the floor. Then he lay down on his own bed, smiling at the comfort afforded by the thick bedroll. In the background the water gurgled pleasantly and dappled sunlight filtered through the foliage on the trellis. Macro closed his eyes. He could do with a few days of this, and he found himself hoping that the King of Nabataea did not return to his capital too soon.

As his thoughts returned to the reason for their presence in Petra, Macro's mood soured. Somewhere out there in the streets and houses of the city lurked Bannus and his Parthian friends. Whatever the King decided to do on his return, there would be a reckoning, Macro vowed. Bannus must not be allowed to survive and breed yet more rebellion in the troubled, long-suffering province of Judaea.

The days passed slowly and Cato and Macro quickly grew frustrated by the restrictions placed on their movements in the city. Especially Cato, who was fascinated by the sheer peculiarity of the vast tombs and temples that had been carved from the rock with such skill. By day they explored the market, and marvelled at the range of luxury items that rivalled all but the most prestigious establishments in Rome. There was a library where Cato discovered a collection of maps, many of which detailed lands that no Roman had heard of, let alone seen. For his part, Macro was content to sample the food and the wine and catch up on his sleep in the cool garden of Symeon's house. Soon after their arrival Symeon informed them that he had discovered where Bannus and the Parthians were staying. A rich merchant on the other side of the city had offered them his home. He had no love of Rome, like many Nabataeans who viewed any expansion of the Empire with anxiety.

Then, one afternoon, when Cato was walking through the precinct of the great temple in front of Petra's wide forum, Bannus emerged from a colonnade right in front of him. Both men automatically stopped and started to apologise before their eyes met and the words died on their lips. There was a tense silence and then Bannus made to move away.

'Wait!' said Cato. 'I want to talk. We have to talk.'

Bannus continued for a few paces before he stopped and turned. 'Aren't you forgetting the terms of the oath we took for the chamberlain?'

'No. But that was to stop us fighting. I just want to talk.'

'Talk?' Bannus smiled. 'What about? The weather? The price of corn? The withdrawal of Rome from Judaea?'

Cato ignored the sarcasm and pointed to a small wine shop on the far side of the forum.'In there, in case we are seen together by any of the chamberlain's men.'

They made their way over to the wine shop in silence and sat on stools on opposite sides of a small table.

'Allow me,' said Bannus and ordered a jar of wine, before he turned back to Cato. 'So, talk.'

'Your revolt is over.Your army has been crushed and the survivors have returned to their villages.'

'I failed this time,' Bannus admitted. 'But there will be another rebellion. As long as the presence of Rome corrupts our land there will always be rebellion.'

Cato's heart sank. 'But you cannot prevail against Rome.Your men are no match for the legions, you must know that.'

'That is why I made a treaty with Parthia.' Bannus smiled. 'I think even a Roman must have heard what happened to the army of Crassus at Carrhae. Or don't they mention that in your histories?'

'They mention it.'

'Then you must know that Parthia is more than a match for Rome on the battlefields of the east.'

'Perhaps. But if Parthia prevails, do you imagine for a moment that they would let Judaea exist as an independent state, despite what they may have promised you?'

Bannus shrugged. 'If they try to impose their rule on us we will rebel against them as we have against Rome.'

'And be defeated again.' Cato shook his head. 'Can't you see? Judaea is fated to be a vassal of one empire or another. Like many other states. Most of them have found their place in our world and are prosperous and peaceful enough. Why should that not be true of Judaea?'

'You've spent too long in the company of that traitor, Symeon.' Bannus sneered. 'Just because it is true of other provinces does not justify imposing your rule on us. We are different, and we want our sovereignty back. Until that happens, there can be no peace.'

Cato stared back at him in silence for a while. Inside he felt the ache of despair. Bannus was a fanatic. There was no reasoning with such men. He decided to change the subject. 'Very well. I understand your position. But it will take time to build another army. So what is the point of keeping the boy,Yusef? He has served his purpose.You no longer need a hostage.'

'Yusef stays with me.'

'Why?'

'He is the son of the founder of our movement. He needs to be made aware of his heritage. In time he can serve as my lieutenant.With him at my side, and with the relics of his father in my hands, we will be able to win back those who have forgotten the true way.'

'You mean Miriam and her people?'

'Them, and communities like them, in every city across the eastern world. At the moment they are confused. Miriam, and traitors like Symeon, have been corrupting the message of Jehoshua, telling his supporters that armed resistance is futile and that we must use peaceful means to win over our enemies. That we must have faith in the long term.' He stared at Cato. 'Tell me, Roman, what can faith achieve that force can't? Liberty grows from the point of a sword. That is my creed. That was the creed of Jehoshua, before he weakened at the moment of crisis. That is the creed which Miriam and Symeon and their followers have betrayed. It is the creed I will teach Yusef, and one day he will ride at my side at the head of our army when we liberate Jerusalem. Only then will we have fulfilled the dream of Jehoshua.'