The Siege by Nick Brown Page B

of the evening were weighing heavily on those recently unaccustomed to soldiering.
    ‘Well, men, a reasonable showing!’ he announced. ‘I suggest you all get a good night’s sleep because I expect every one of you back here at sunrise. Tardiness will not be tolerated and you should be prepared for a long day’s work.’
    Strabo coughed loudly.
    ‘Food and drink,’ he whispered.
    ‘Ah. Yes.’
    This was another point they had discussed before the muster parade. Cassius was not slow to recognise it as a potential point of contention. Having listened to the advice of his deputies, he’d decided to ease the garrison back into a more formal system.
    ‘I intend to reintroduce set meal times from tomorrow. Food will be rationed.’
    There was predictable tutting and head-shaking but Cassius sensed a certain half-heartedness. It confirmed his suspicion that many of the men would be glad to get back to normal military routine.
    ‘Report to the granary after you’ve rid yourself of your gear and the guard officer will ensure that you get your share. I’ve also asked him to monitor the consumption of wine.’
    ‘And who will monitor his consumption?’ asked Serenus good-naturedly.
    Cassius just about held back a grin as the men broke into smiles and laughter. Strabo scowled.
    ‘See you at sunrise. Dismissed!’

IX
    A hillock of sand fifty feet high, ‘the crest’ did indeed provide an excellent view of the area surrounding Alauran, particularly the desert to the east. Scattered across its slopes were patches of thorn bush, drained of colour by the summer sun. Aside from a few grasshoppers and sandflies there was no other sign of life. An indistinct track ran west back to the fort and east as far as Anasartha, the closest settlement of any size.
    Cassius and Barates were at the top, gazing out across the plain.
    ‘No,’ Cassius said, ‘I can’t see it.’
    Barates had assured him that the buildings of Anasartha, less than twenty miles away, would be visible from the crest. The old man sat on his haunches close by, noisily chewing his way through a handful of raisins.
    ‘The sun is low. Perhaps in the morning.’
    ‘At least we’ll able to see the Palmyrans coming. One of the few advantages of a desert location, I suppose.’
    ‘One of the few.’
    ‘You’re sure Julius is able to find his way back in the dark?’
    ‘Easily. He and I have done this trip a hundred times. The camels could probably do it on their own.’
    Cassius glanced down towards the bottom of the crest. He could just about make out the youth and the three camels sitting in a triangle around him. Close by was a ramshackle shelter housing a water barrel and a stash of timber.
    Barates had been correct about the boy’s ability to control the beasts. There had been a few problems mounting, but once clear of the gates the camels had settled into a purposeful stride, though Cassius had yet to adjust to their lolloping gait. He wasn’t particularly looking forward to the return journey. In fact, he was rather enjoying the tranquillity of the crest.
    ‘Then if you’ll oblige me, I shall keep you company a few moments more. You were telling me about the big man.’
    Barates had embarked upon an intriguing tale. The Praetorian had been attached to a cohort of the Fourth Legion as an adviser, part of a hastily organised counter-attack that had ended in disaster. He had managed to get away and had pitched up at Alauran just after Barates and the rest of the century.
    ‘When he first arrived you could talk to him. He would say nothing about himself, but we would discuss politics, army life and so on.’
    ‘And now?’
    Barates expelled a long breath as he eased himself up off his haunches.
    ‘It’s been a downward spiral. His rotten gut and drink-addled head have left him in a permanent stupor. On the few occasions he’s not drunk, he’s in a rage. I don’t remember the last time he had a civil word for anyone, even me. He has a room to