Douglas Jackson - Scourge of Rome

‘Truly?’ she said.

‘Truly,’ he lied, hoping the word didn’t sound as hollow in her ears as it did in his.

She frowned, unsure whether to be pleased his medical ministrations had been carried out with such professional detachment or dismayed that her charms had so little effect. ‘I do not know your name, though I would guess by your accent you are a Roman.’

‘Gaius Valerius Verrens, at your service, lady …?’

‘I am called Tabitha.’ She bowed her head with grave dignity. ‘It was fortunate you strayed so far from the road.’ The statement contained a question he found intriguing.

‘We are on the way to Emesa.’ He shrugged as if the journey were of little consequence. ‘Then perhaps I will continue on to Judaea. My guide,’ Valerius sensed Ariston’s ears twitch, ‘pledged to show me the wonders of the Orient, but he turns out to have poor eyesight and not much sense of direction.’

Tabitha explained that she was the servant of a lady travelling from Chalcis to Hamah with a caravan of five hundred camels laden with precious frankincense. ‘An escort of fifty mounted archers provided by the king rode with us and we were judged safe from any interference.’ She lowered her eyes. ‘I wandered away from our encampment … I did not like to … under the gaze of the soldiers and rough camel drivers.’ She sighed. ‘I was a fool. They must have been waiting.’

‘They must also have been eager to know the dispositions of the guards.’ Valerius nodded towards her injured hand.

‘Yes,’ Tabitha said too quickly. ‘They put me to the question before …’ A tear ran down her cheek and he placed a fatherly hand on her shoulder. The touch clearly surprised her and she raised her eyes to meet his. For some reason Valerius found breathing difficult. ‘If we make reasonable time we could reach Hamah before the caravan, or perhaps meet them on the road,’ she continued eagerly. Valerius must have looked doubtful because her expression turned downcast. ‘I promise I will not be a burden to you. I can ride as well as any man, and despite my foolishness my mistress will reimburse you for any inconvenience I have caused. Please.’

Valerius hesitated. He’d discussed the conundrum with Serpentius and Ariston during the night. In their opinion she would hold them back and his first instinct had been to leave her at the next village with enough money to see her home. Ariston had suggested returning to the river and hailing one of the boats carrying olive oil from the Syrian heartland to Antioch. But if she could ride …

‘I have seen a mouse put up more of a struggle against a cat.’ Ariston’s complaint to his mount travelled back to where Valerius rode beside the pack horse. Tabitha had forged a few yards ahead with Serpentius, the shapely form from the previous night engulfed in Valerius’s hooded cloak. ‘With one flutter of her eyelashes she has him doing tricks like a trained monkey. I once owned a camel with such eyes and she was the most wilful, vain, pernickety creature ever spawned. I sold her to a Bedou who was not so impressed by her looks and less inclined to spare the whip.’

‘If you’ve finished reciting the merits of your menagerie,’ Valerius gave him a sour look, ‘perhaps you could keep your eyes open for signs of the lady’s caravan and we’ll be able to dispense with our unwanted distraction.’

‘Unwanted? Hah.’ The Syrian dropped back to take station beside him. ‘A caravan of five hundred camels would leave a trail a hundred paces wide,’ he said soberly, ‘which would be visible even to a guide with poor eyesight. In addition, it would create a dust cloud that could be seen for ten miles. I see no dust cloud.’

‘What are you saying?’

‘Six men, or even ten, why would they risk raiding a caravan guarded by fifty bowmen?’

‘They might have been only the advance guard,’ Valerius suggested.

‘They were Sicarii, I am certain of it. The Sicarii are killers, not thieves. They usually work alone. Six men would denote a particular mission.’

Valerius caught the hint. ‘You think our new travelling companion is not being open with us?’

Ariston shrugged; what did he know? ‘She has made a remarkable recovery.’

‘There was nothing false about what those men did to her,’ Valerius pointed out. ‘Maybe she is just a remarkable woman?’

The Syrian turned in the saddle. ‘Her beauty blinds you. I hope it is not the death of us.’ His eyes drifted to the man riding at Tabitha’s side. ‘Speaking of death, your friend with the wolf’s eyes makes me nervous.’

‘And so he should,’ Valerius said. ‘Serpentius survived a hundred combats in the Taurus amphitheatre. He has hands as swift as a cobra’s strike and has saved my life more times than I remember. It is your good fortune, Ariston, that he only kills who I tell him to.’

He kicked his horse ahead to where Tabitha had reined in to water her mount in a stream that joined the Orontes. ‘You ride well,’ he complimented her. ‘Is that a common skill among servants in Chalcis?’

‘Common enough in servants of the royal court.’ She gave him a searching look that made his cheeks burn. ‘My lady often hunts in the desert with King Aristobulus, either with hawk or hound. She expects her servant to be at her side in case of need. We are different from Roman women, who I understand avoid such strenuous pursuits.’

‘I know one Roman woman who could match you in the saddle.’ Valerius smiled, remembering Domitia Longina Corbulo’s fierce pride as they outrode their Batavian pursuers at Placentia. ‘But you’re right, it is not a skill of which many Roman ladies can boast. Your place at court would also account for your remarkable command of Greek.’

‘Latin too,’ she replied in that language. ‘And Hebrew, though Aramaic is the language of my birth. Is this an interrogation, Gaius Valerius Verrens?’

‘Let us call it a conversation,’ he smiled. ‘Ariston, our guide, is by nature a suspicious man. He thinks it is possible that the men who attacked you were members of a group of assassins who go by the name of Sicarii. Perhaps there is a reason other than the value of your frankincense why they were interested in you or your lady?’

‘What other reason would there be?’ Tabitha shook her head. ‘They were bandits. They wanted to know the layout of our camp and the position of the guards. Nothing more.’

As the sun reached its height they entered Apamea by the Antioch Gate beneath impressive city walls, and Ariston grinned at Valerius’s undisguised astonishment. The Roman had expected just another dusty provincial city. A working community with a meeting place for a market, perhaps a forum and a basilica, a few temples and a baths. Instead the city rivalled anything he’d seen outside Rome, in some places possibly even surpassing the capital.

‘This is the longest street in Syria, perhaps the world,’ Ariston informed him proudly. ‘I promised you wonders, is this not one?’

The main street, the cardo maximus , ran for at least a mile; a broad avenue lined with fluted columns of creamy white. ‘There are twelve hundred,’ Ariston continued, determined everything must impress. ‘I have counted them. Six hundred to each side and every one the height of five men.’

Serpentius rode a little way apart, ignoring the architecture. Instead, his restless eyes searched the street for any undue interest in their little party. The others forced their horses past carts shod with iron wheels that rattled over the rutted cobbles. Driven by labourers in dusty robes, they carried wood and stone and fought for space with dark-skinned traders leading heavily laden camels, which were in turn followed by slave boys vying to pick up their droppings for manure. Valerius noted men wearing the garb of a dozen cultures. Apamea, like Antioch, was clearly a crossroads between east and west. A bustling place that trade, natural resources – they had passed through ripening fields and lush pastures filled with sheep – and its location beside the river had made wealthy. Behind the columns lay myriad shops and basilicas, selling goods from all over the world. Some of the luxuries had been imported from Rome, but others were more exotic. Ariston insisted the intricately worked golden objects studded with jewels and pearls on one stall could only have originated in the Indus Valley and the Orient. Tabitha altered course to study the shops more closely and reined in her mare at the front of one festooned with multicoloured lengths of cloth. When Valerius joined her she was clearly wrestling with some decision.