Centurion

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

'Ah, the other hard case.' Julia shook her head as Macro eased himself down on to a stool beside her table. 'Tell me, are you two accident prone, or is it just that you happen to be in the thick of the fighting all the time?'

Macro shrugged. 'Goes with the rank, miss. Don't suppose we get injured more than any other officers.' He paused and thought about that for a moment, then shook his head. 'No. That's not true. The lad and I seem to have found ourselves in quite a few scrapes since we ran into each other.'

Julia bent her head over his outstretched arms, examining the burns. 'Oh? How long ago was that, then?'

'Five years. I was serving with the Second Legion on the Rhine when Cato joined up.' Macro smiled as he recalled the rainswept winter's evening when the convoy of fresh recruits trundled in through the fortress gate. 'He was just a skinny streak of piss in those days.' Macro looked up.'Pardon my language, miss, but that's how he was. You should have seen him. Huddled in a cloak, clutching a small bundle of belongings under one arm and his writing set and a few scrolls under the other. The most dangerous thing he'd had in his hands up until then was a stylus. I thought he'd be dead before the year was out,' Macro mused. 'Well, he surprised us all, did Cato.Turned out to be one of the finest officers in the army.'

'You can lower your arms,' Julia said as she straightened up and reached for a pot of fat on the table. 'The burns will need to be protected for a few days. Those arms are going to smart for a while, but I dare say you will pretend not to notice it.'

Macro laughed. 'It seems you have the measure of me.'

'No. Not you, just soldiers in general. Most of you seem to think you're as hard as the Spartans.'

'Spartans?' Macro snorted his derision. 'Bunch of tunic-lifters, that lot. Wouldn't last quarter of an hour up against the legions.'

'If you say so.' Julia dipped her hand in the pot and cupped a dollop of the fat in her palm. 'Hold still.'

Macro clamped his lips together as she applied the unguent and started to smooth it out across the raw red burns on his arms. It hurt, as she had said it would, but Macro was damned if he would show it. He forced himself to speak in a relaxed conversational tone. 'So, how long have you been a surgeon?'

Julia chuckled. 'Hardly a surgeon. But one of my father's slaves in Rome was. He taught me some basics, and the rest I have learned in the last month, on the job as it were.'

'You seem to know what you're doing,' Macro conceded, a little grudgingly. 'For a woman, that is. Not that a woman should have to do this in the first place. Especially not a senator's daughter.'

'Nonsense. There's no reason why a senator's daughter should not be allowed to serve the Empire in any way that she can. Some would say it was my duty to help. In any case, I want to.'

Macro smiled slyly. 'Do you always get what you want, miss?'

She looked up and caught his expression and smiled back. 'Always.'

'Your father must find you something of a handful.'

'I wouldn't say that. I'm a loyal daughter and I would never shame him. But I know my own mind, and he respects that well enough.'

'Not sure that I would let any daughter of mine be so headstrong.'

'Good thing I'm not your daughter then.' She leaned back towards the pot for some more ointment. 'Other arm, please.'

She was silent for a moment as she began to gently apply the grease. 'Your friend, Cato, seems to be rather an unlikely warrior.'

'You're telling me, miss. But, for all his quirks, he's a damn fine soldier. Fights like a fury and can march almost any man into the ground. Except me, of course.And he's got a good head on his shoulders. His only fault is that he thinks too much at times.'

'Yes, he does seem rather a sensitive type.'

'Sensitive?' Macro repeated the word with distaste as if it was an insult, which in his view it certainly was. If any man ever had the balls to call Macro sensitive to his face, he resolved, he would knock seven shades out of him. Of course, he'd try to feel bad about it afterwards. Maybe. He looked up at Julia. 'Don't know about sensitive, but he has a heart as well as a head, if that's what you mean.'

'Yes, that's what I meant,' Julia replied diplomatically. 'I imagine being an officer doesn't leave much room in your lives for family.'

'No, it doesn't. Especially if you're not on garrison duty. Since Cato turned up I've been on campaign in Britain, served in the fleet, and been sent out here.'

'No wife then,' Julia concluded. 'And how about your friend Cato? Is he married?'

Macro shook his head.

'And no woman waiting for him back in Antioch, Rome, or wherever?'

'Hardly.We've not been anywhere long enough, or we've simply been too busy to find time for such things, beyond the odd tart or two.'

'Oh.'

Macro looked at her shrewdly. 'So he's available, if anyone's interested, miss.'

Julia blushed as she finished applying the fat in a rush, rubbing it on firmly enough to make even Macro wince at the pain it caused. She stepped away and reached for a rag to wipe her hands on.'There you are.Try not to disturb that – it'll protect the burns for a short time. I'll have a pot sent to your quarters. Apply it at the start and end of each day.'

Macro nodded. 'Thank you, miss.'

'Off you go then,' she responded tersely.'There are other men who need my attention.'

I bet, Macro thought as he rose to leave the room. Now that he looked at her she was something of a beauty, but her aristocratic air killed any appeal she might have had for Macro.Too well brought up, too clever and too independent for his taste. Still, for the right man, she would be a fine catch.

There were no further attempts to attack the citadel and the sentries patrolled the walls and watched over the city as the sun beat down. A handful of rebels kept an eye on the defenders from the edge of the agora and from small lookout posts outside the city with a view of the citadel where it stood on top of the rise in the ground. Otherwise a semblance of normal life continued in and around the city. A handful of traders and merchants still entered the gates of Palmyra to sell their wares and an unladen caravan of camels began its return journey to the distant banks of the Euphrates. The only sign of the struggle for power was the steady procession of bodies out towards the funeral plain to the south of the city. There, scores of pyres had been built to receive the bodies of the fallen and one by one they were set alight and greasy black smoke billowed into the air as the corpses were consumed by the flames. Later the ashes were scooped into small pottery urns, which were sealed and then carried to the strange funeral towers that rose up from the plain, where the remains were reverentially placed with those of their forebears.

Inside the citadel there was little room for such rituals and the bodies were burned on a common pyre in the royal garden, before the remains were scooped into urns and placed somewhere where they could be stored until the siege was over and they could be interred properly.

Macro and Cato made a tour of the defences to ensure that adequate supplies of arrows, sling shot and other missiles were ready and to hand in case of further attacks. Towards the end of their reconnaissance, as they stood on top of the signal tower and stared out across the city's roofs, Cato scratched his jaw and muttered, 'What do you think they will do next?'

'It depends.They could sit on their arses and try to starve us out, or wait until the Parthians arrive, complete with siege experts and maybe some equipment. Or they could build a better ram and try again.'

'What would you do in their place?'

'Me?' Macro considered the matter for a moment. 'I'd assume that a Roman column, however small, that had been sent to aid Vabathus was a sign of Roman commitment. I'd expect a much larger force to follow.That would mean that I had a limited time in which to reduce the citadel.' He turned to Cato.'I'd attack again as soon as I had the chance.'

Cato nodded. 'So would I.' He glanced quickly over his shoulder, but the only other men on the tower were on the far side, absorbed in a game of dice. 'And I'd take further comfort from the fact that there's a fair amount of dissent amongst the defenders.'

'How can Artaxes know that?'

'Because he's family. He knows how deeply divided his brothers are, and how little faith his father has in either of them. Artaxes will also know that Balthus is no great admirer of Rome and is likely to resent our presence here. There's one other thing. If any of the nobles or refugees begin to lose confidence that the king will hold out against Artaxes, they might well come to believe they have more to gain by throwing their lot in with the prince, and betray us. The prospect of some kind of reward might be an added inducement to treachery.' Cato smiled bleakly. 'Not the best situation we have ever been in.'

'And not the worst, either.'

'Perhaps not.'

Macro gave his friend an appraising look.

'What?' Cato frowned. 'What is it?'

'I'm just glad you and your devious mind are on my side. It's as I told that woman: you're a thinking man, a thinking soldier.'

'Which woman?'

'The one in the hospital. She saw to my wounds. The ambassador's daughter, Julia Sempronia.'

Cato felt a tremor of nerves in his gut. 'You were discussing me?'

'Sort of. She was asking questions.'

'About me?'

'Yes. What of it? I didn't tell her anything you wouldn't have told her yourself.'

Cato wasn't sure about that at all. He thought he knew Macro well enough to fear that some indiscretion, large or small, would eventually be teased out of him by Julia. 'What did she want to know?'

'What I thought of you. Whether you were married, or had a woman of some kind.'

'And what did you say to her?'

'That there was no one at the moment, and that you were available.'

Cato swallowed nervously. 'You told her that?'

'Of course!' Macro slapped him on the shoulder. 'She's a lovely-looking girl. Bit too classy for my liking, though. More your type.'

Cato shut his eyes and rubbed his forehead. 'Please, please tell me that you didn't suggest that she might like to… attach her affections to me.'

'Oh, very well put!' Macro swore softly. 'Very romantic. Anyway, what kind of idiot do you take me for? I just hinted that you were free of any commitments and you'd be a fine catch. Cato, this isn't a children's party.There is every chance that we may not hold out against Artaxes for much longer. If that's the case, what has she got to lose? For that matter what have you got to lose? I think she's taken a shine to you. If you are interested in her then make your move, while there's time.'

'And if we all survive this? What then?' Cato could imagine the awkwardness of a relationship forged in the shadow of annihilation, only for the participants to emerge unscathed back into the same old world of hazardless routine. That was assuming that Julia did not rebuff him in the first place.

Macro yawned. 'You could always make an honest woman of her.'

They stared at each other for a moment, before Macro burst out laughing. 'Just joking!'

'Funny bastard,' Cato muttered sourly. Nevertheless, the merest suggestion of marriage to Julia briefly filled his mind and made his heart feel light. Then he cursed himself for such foolish speculation. What could a highborn Roman woman ever see in the son of a freedman? It was unthinkable, and yet…

Cato pushed himself away from the parapet and composed his expression. 'Sir, I think we're done here. I still have to do an inventory of my cohort's weapons.'

'An inventory of kit?' Macro tried not to smile at his friend's obvious attempt to avoid further discussion of the matter. Instead he mimicked Cato's officious tone.'Very well then, Prefect Cato. Carry on.'

They exchanged a formal salute and then, as Cato turned and strode stiffly away, Macro shook his head and muttered, 'She's got right under that boy's skin…'

Shortly after noon a messenger from King Vabathus arrived at the makeshift quarters Macro was sharing with Cato.The latter had finally completed his inspection and reluctantly joined Macro in the cool interior of the citadel to sit out the heat and glare of the midday sun.

'His Majesty requests your company at a small feast he is giving this evening in your honour,' the royal servant explained. 'At sunset. Formal dress code.'

'Formal dress?' Macro's expression darkened. He gestured at his worn and dirty tunic and dusty boots. 'This is all we have. When we set off from Antioch we were marching to war, not a bloody dinner party.'

The servant bowed his head and responded, 'His Majesty's chamberlain suggests that you procure some spare clothes from the Roman ambassador. His excellency Lucius Sempronius has already said he would be happy to provide you with tunics, togas and sandals.'

'Oh, very well,' Macro grumbled. 'We'll be there. You may go.'

The servant made a deep bow and backed out of the room, quietly closing the door behind him. Macro lay back down on his mattress, folded his arms behind his head and stared up at the rafters. 'Here we are, surrounded by bloodthirsty enemies and we're off to a fancy dinner. Still, at least it'll make a nice change from horsemeat.'

'I suppose so,' Cato replied. 'But I hardly think it's going to do much for the morale of the people in the citadel to know that the king and his circle are feasting while they're on limited rations.'

As the sun dipped towards the horizon and bathed the city in an orange glow Macro and Cato entered the royal quarters. At the rear of the citadel, tucked between the main building and the wall, was a small roof garden with a colonnade that stretched along each of the open sides. Occasional pergolas provided shade and small trees and shrubs grew in large tubs and raised flower beds. A slave was watering the plants as Macro and Cato entered and Cato could not help wondering about the king's sense of priorities. On the far side, overlooking the city wall and the lush oasis beyond, a number of couches had been arranged around low tables. An awning had been rigged above the couches and in the light breeze blowing in off the desert it gently shimmered and billowed. Most of the guests were already present. Cato recognised some of the nobles, alongside Thermon, Balthus, Amethus, Sempronius and his daughter.

Cato felt a quickening of his pulse at the sight of her, but when she looked his way his gaze shifted to examine the other guests. He saw Balthus approach Julia and with a gracious bow begin to engage her in conversation.

Sempronius smiled as he caught sight of the two officers and came over to greet them.

'Centurion Macro, I see that my tunic is a bit tight around the shoulders.'

Macro swung his arms loosely. 'It's comfortable enough, sir. I'll manage. And thank you for helping us out.'

'My pleasure.' Sempronius turned to Cato. 'You on the other hand seem made to fit my clothes. They look even better on you than on me.'

Cato shifted self-consciously and Sempronius smiled.

'Don't grow too used to them. I'll want them back later on. Anyway, let me show you to your places.' He put a hand on each man's shoulder and steered them towards the couches. 'The king will be seated at the head of the centre table, when he joins us.Thermon and the princes will sit to his left and you two have been given the place of honour at his right. I and my daughter will be on the other side. Normally the locals don't approve of women feasting alongside the men, but they have made an exception for Julia.'

'Very accommodating of them,' said Macro.

'I suppose so, but I imagine it's mainly because Balthus has his eye on her.'

'Really?' Macro looked at Cato and raised an eyebrow. 'That's understandable enough, sir. She's a lovely-looking young woman. Any man in his right senses would be proud to have her as his wife.'

Cato glared furiously at his friend, while Sempronius frowned and said with evident sadness, 'I just wish her former husband had shared your sentiments. Anyway, the prince seems to like her well enough, which is useful.'

'Useful?' Cato was surprised by the odd choice of word.

'Of course. Right now I value any influence that I can get over Balthus, or any of these people. So please, think like diplomats tonight, and not like…'

'Soldiers?' Macro suggested.

Sempronius nodded. 'If you wouldn't mind. For the sake of the Empire.'

'In that case,' Macro assumed a thoughtful expression, 'I suppose I might try to avoid any behaviour that could cause a scandal, although I can't speak for my friend Cato. He's the one you should keep an eye on.'

'Really?' Sempronius looked at Cato with raised eyebrows.

'Ignore him,' Cato muttered. 'Just ignore him.'

Thermon rapped his staff on the ground and the conversation died abruptly as the Palmyran nobles turned towards the entrance to the roof garden and bowed their heads. Sempronius gestured to his companions to do the same. After a moment's stillness, King Vabathus came striding through the doorway. He swept through the small crowd of guests and eased himself down on to the royal couch. Thermon waited for his master to settle and then rapped his staff again.

'All may be seated!'

The guests hurriedly took up their places and a low hubbub of conversation slowly swelled to a more comfortable volume. Macro and Cato, lying on their couches to the right of the king, kept quiet, waiting to be addressed by him.Vabathus regarded them for a moment and then cleared his throat.

'We owe you our gratitude, Romans, for the fine defence of the citadel gates this morning.'

Macro bowed his head. 'Thank you, sir, but we were just doing our duty.'

The king gestured towards Macro's arms. 'You are wounded?'

Macro shook his head. 'Just some burns, sir. They'll heal in a few days.'

'I see.' The king glanced past Macro to address Cato. 'And you?'

'Your Majesty?'

'Are you wounded?'

'No,Your Majesty. Not today.'

'Ah.' The king nodded and turned away with a dull expression to stare out over the wall, towards the oasis. The molten glow of the sun barely rimmed the horizon and long shadows spilled across the sand and the dark green fronds of the palm trees. Macro waited a little longer, in case there was any further remark from the king, and then he turned to Cato with a subtle shake of his head. But Cato was already looking the other way. Julia was lying beside her father and Cato was pleased that she was temporarily parted from Prince Balthus.

'So tell me, Prefect.' Sempronius spoke just loudly enough in Greek for the other guests to hear. 'How much of a fight did the rebels put up?'

Cato could not help a small smile as he considered the staged question and he made sure that his reply was equally audible. 'The majority of them are little more than a rabble, an armed mob. We have nothing to fear from them. Apart from that, I'm sure we can deal with Prince Artaxes' regular soldiers if they have the stomach for another fight. But I doubt they'll trouble us for a few days yet.'

Sempronius nodded sagely. 'And by then, I imagine General Longinus will be approaching the city with his legions.'

'I should think so, sir.'

'Good.Then we're saved.' Sempronius turned to face the king's chamberlain, who was standing a short distance in front of his master's table, his post for the night as he oversaw the timing and announcement of each course.The two men exchanged a slight nod and Thermon rapped his staff and called out towards a small side door on to the garden. At once a steady stream of slaves spilled out carrying platters of food.The king was served with a large selection first and he began to pick at some meat dainties. Then the rest of the guests were presented with a somewhat less generous range of dishes. Macro propped himself up on his elbows and looked over the offerings before him.

'Horsemeat sausage, horse steaks, horse cutlets in honey…' He forced a smile and raised his voice. 'Best rations I've had in months.' He paused as he saw a small bowl of what looked like a curious white fibrous fruit. He turned to Sempronius. 'Sir, excuse me. Do you know what those are?'

'Those?' The ambassador glanced at the bowl and smiled slightly. 'Why of course I do. That's a local delicacy, Centurion. You should really give them a try. And remember, always use the right hand,' he added as Macro leaned forward.

'Delicacy, eh?' Macro grinned. 'My favourite kind of food.'

He reached over and plucked one out of the bowl. As he withdrew his hand and examined the object in his fingers his expression froze. 'It looks like an eye.'

'It is. A sheep's eye to be precise.'

'Sheep's eye? Good Gods! What kind of delicacy is that?'

'One that you must try,' Sempronius insisted. 'And you too, Prefect, if you don't want to mortally offend our hosts.'

'What?' Cato looked horrified. But there was an earnest expression of compulsion from the ambassador. Even so, Cato shook his head. 'I can't.'

Despite his reservations of a moment earlier, Macro was amused by his friend's squeamishness. He leaned forward again and picked out another eye. 'Here, this one looks nice and juicy.' He held it out to Cato, who tried not to shrink away too obviously.Then Cato became aware that the other guests were looking at him expectantly, and reluctantly accepted the offering. Macro watched him with amusement for a moment and then winked.

'Bottoms up!'With one swift movement Macro popped the eye he still held into his mouth and made a brief chewing motion before he swallowed and smacked his lips. 'Delicious.'

Cato felt sick, but dared not refuse for fear of causing offence. He swallowed nervously, and with a last quick battle against his stomach's inclination to retch raised the eye to his lips and pressed it into his mouth. The tough muscle tissue surrounding the eyeball was slimy and tasted vaguely of vinegar. He tested the texture with his teeth and it was as unyielding and chewy as he had feared. Summoning up all his courage, he forced the eye to the back of his mouth and swallowed.

The guests cheered and grinned at him, some holding up eyes for him to see, as if they were making a toast, before they ate them. Cato snatched at the goblet of wine that had been poured for him and took a big mouthful, swilling it round his teeth and gums to eradicate any hint of flavour left behind.

'Well done.'

Cato turned and saw Julia nodding at him. He forced a smile in return and replied in Latin,'Not so bad once you've tried it.'

'If you say so. Now try some of the sweetmeats. They'll help take your mind off it.'

As the guests settled down to eating their banquet, while continuing to talk in an animated fashion, Cato turned his attention briefly away from Julia to glance at the two princes sitting side by side, but not speaking, nor even willing to meet each other's gaze. It had been a mistake to seat them next to each other, Cato decided. The king's chamberlain had obviously hoped for a display of solidarity before the guests, but it was clear for all to see – the two brothers positively despised each other.

Macro had followed his friend's gaze and guessed his thoughts precisely. 'So much for unity,' he said softly. 'I fear we're going to be fighting on two fronts before too long.'

'Let's hope not.' Cato turned away and quickly helped himself to some chunks of spiced horsemeat in a rich sauce before Macro could offer him another eye.

The king stirred and shifted himself to face his Roman guests. 'You're a lucky man, ambassador.'

'How so,Your Majesty?'

'You have a fine daughter. A loyal daughter no doubt.'

'I like to think so.' Sempronius smiled and patted Julia on the arm.

'Quite,' the king continued.'Sometimes I wish that I had had daughters, and not two younger sons who fight like wolves in a pit. They always have. And when they have not been fighting each other, they have been defying me. As for Amethus – well, at least he has a good heart, even if he has no brains.'

Cato was astonished that the old man had spoken so openly before his sons. Behind Vabathus' back Cato saw Balthus staring rigidly ahead as he ate with a leaden lack of enthusiasm. On hearing the king's words Amethus had turned to stare at his father. Gradually his blank expression turned into an angry frown.

Vabathus continued in a weary tone. 'Such has been my burden, and the burden of my people. For who shall inherit the throne after I am gone? The most able and cherished of the three has proved to be a traitor, the oldest changes his mind more often than the wind changes direction, and Balthus pursues his pleasures to the exclusion of all else. What chance of survival has my kingdom if I choose one of them to succeed me?'

Prince Balthus set his cup down with a sharp rap. 'Enough! You do me wrong, Father! All I have ever tried to do is please you.'

Although the guests stirred and the conversation died at once, King Vabathus' tired expression did not flicker, as if he had not heard a thing, or had simply heard it too often.

'If you find fault in us,' Balthus continued, 'then I say it is your fault that you have not settled the matter of succession. Even though I am not your firstborn, I am the natural choice as your heir. If you had only confirmed me as your successor from the outset none of this would have happened. But no, you had to put it off.Year after year, and this is the result.Why do you think Artaxes is out there with his rebels? You dangled the prospect of the throne in front of his eyes for too long.You tempted him until his patience snapped. If you had only chosen me then Artaxes would have known his place, and he would not be out there with an army and we would not be caught in this trap…' Balthus shut his eyes and clenched his fists, trying to control his anger.

Vabathus sighed. 'Have you finished, my son?' When there was no reply, the king gestured towards Sempronius. 'You see? What hope is there for Palmyra?'

'There is always hope,Your Majesty,' Sempronius replied smoothly. 'I am certain that whoever succeeds you will be able to count on the friendship and support of Rome. Rome never abandons her allies.'

Prince Balthus laughed at that, and turned to face the ambassador. 'It's funny how today's ally so often turns out to be tomorrow's imperial province.' He gestured towards his older brother. 'If this fool does succeed the king, then we might as well hand Palmyra over to Roman tax farmers and the Roman legions right now.'

Amethus scrambled off his couch and glared down at his father. 'No brains… That's what you said. No brains. No mind of my own. Well, let me tell you… I've had enough of it. I'm not an idiot. I may not have the intell…' He paused and his brow twisted in concentration. 'Intelli…'

'Intellect?' Balthus suggested. 'Intelligence?'

Amethus nodded vigorously. 'Yes! That's the word.'

'Which one?'

'Both. Either. Anyway, the point is I still have a good heart. I know right from wrong and I would be a good king. That's what Krathos says. So I've had enough of being called a fool!'

Amethus turned and strode across the roof garden and disappeared through the formal doorway, leaving the other guests shocked by the openness of the rift between him, his father and Prince Balthus.

Vabathus shook his head sadly. 'You see what I have to put up with. You see my dilemma? I could weep for my people.'

Cato and Macro had been startled by the previous outbursts and an embarrassed silence hung over those seated around the banquet tables. At length Sempronius cleared his throat and spoke in as reasonable a tone as he could manage. 'It has been a long day, Your Majesty. I expect everyone is exhausted.'

'Yes.' The king smiled. 'Too tired to tame their tongues.'

'Then perhaps we should all retire for the evening. I am sure that Centurion Macro and Prefect Cato are most grateful for the honour you have shown them tonight and would not object to an early end to the banquet, to allow tempers to cool.'

'You are right,' the king conceded. 'It would be for the best.'

The guests began to rise from their couches to take their leave of the king. Balthus went with them. Macro glanced round and then pulled a bread basket towards him and started loading it with the food spread out on the other platters. 'Here, Cato, lend a hand.'

Cato frowned.'I'm not sure if this is the time or place for foraging.'

'Well, if it isn't, when is? Suit yourself.' Macro cleared a few more platters and then grasped the handles of the basket and turned towards the king.

'Er, thanks once again, your majesty.'

Vabathus acknowledged the remark with a lift of his fingers and continued chewing slowly. The Romans were almost the last to leave, and as they reached the entrance to the roof garden Cato looked back and saw the lonely figure of the king sitting at the abandoned banquet, with only his chamberlain still standing before him to keep him company. Night had fallen and the velvet heavens were sprinkled with stars. Low on the horizon a nearly full moon was rising over the desert, bathing it in a faint ethereal blue glow.

Cato fell in alongside the others.'Even if we do hold out until Longinus arrives, what will become of Palmyra?'

Sempronius shook his head. 'I don't know. Unless Vabathus chooses an heir we can work with, Rome will have to intervene.'

'Intervene?'

Sempronius glanced round hurriedly and lowered his voice. 'Annex the kingdom, turn it into a province. What else could we do?'

Macro nodded. 'With those two sons of his, there is nothing else.'

As they headed down the corridor to leave the royal quarters Cato found himself walking alongside Julia. Her scent came to him again and as a warm rush of longing swept through his body he felt his heart beating against his chest. More than anything in the world he wanted to ask her to come to the signal tower again and gaze out over the city and the surrounding landscape. This time he would not be surprised by her presence, and it would go far better. He had sensed some kindred feeling in her and the desperation to know if he was right gnawed at him.

They reached the end of the corridor, and the arch that gave out on to the paved area between the buildings and the gate. The ambassador's quarters were one way, and Macro and Cato's the other.

Sempronius paused and clasped each officer's arm in turn. 'Fine work this morning. When I get back to Rome I will be sure to inform the Emperor.'

'Thank you, sir,' Macro replied.

Cato nodded.

'Well, then, good night. Come on, my dear.' The ambassador and his daughter took a step away.

'Julia,' Cato blurted out. They paused.

'Yes?'

'I wondered… I wonder if you would do me the honour of walking with me.' Cato winced at the awkwardness of his words.

'Walking with you?' Julia arched one of her fine eyebrows. 'Where?'

'Ah! The, er, same place as last night, I was thinking.'

Sempronius turned to her and smiled as he patted her cheek. 'There, I told you the prefect was interested in you. Go, my child. Walk, talk, but nothing else, mind. Cato, I trust you are an honourable man.'

'Yes, sir.'

Sempronius stared at him for a moment, and a flicker of anxiety crossed his face before he smiled. 'Good night to you all, then.'

He turned away and made off through the moonlight towards his quarters. Macro shifted awkwardly. 'Me too. I'll see you later, Cato.You too, miss.Tomorrow I mean.' Macro turned away, took a few steps and then paused. 'Want me to save you any of the food?'

'No, thank you. I'm fine.'

'Well then. Be good.' Macro nodded and trudged off into the darkness. Cato and Julia listened to his footsteps fading away, and then turned to each other with shy expressions. Julia's lips parted in a smile.

'Now that the parents have gone…'

They both laughed, and then Cato took her arm in his and tugged gently. 'Let's go, then.'

The anxiety of a moment ago had disappeared and in its place he felt a pure joy at being with her, even here in the besieged citadel, sensing the warmth and softness of her arm against his in the cool night air. They walked in silence for a moment before Julia spoke.

'I feel so sorry for him.'

'Hmm?'

'King Vabathus. He looks so weary, so heartbroken.'

'Yes,' Cato said vaguely. The comment had jolted him back from his little reverie and now the prospect of the troubled days to come settled on him like a dead weight. 'It can't be easy for him, but he has to be strong for all our sakes. If he lets the situation in the citadel overwhelm him, then Artaxes has won, and we…' He could not complete the sentence as a vision of Julia lying amongst the slaughtered Romans flitted through his head. 'Anyway, let's not think about it. It's early, and there's so much I want to say.'

'Like what?'

Cato laughed. 'I don't know. Nothing… Everything. I don't care.'

'Oh dear.' Julia knitted her brows. 'That doesn't sound very specific. But I'm sure we will manage.' She gave his arm a little squeeze as they reached the base of the signal tower and stepped into the dark entrance to the staircase.

'Careful,' Cato warned. 'It's pitch black in there.'

Julia lightly stepped ahead of him. 'Coward. There's nothing to be-'

She gave a sharp cry and pitched forward.

'Julia!' Cato leaned forward and felt for her arm. As he found it, his fingers closed and he lifted her back to her feet and out of the darkened entrance. She looked shaken and Cato saw that there was a dark smear down the front of her stola.

'There's someone in there.' Her voice trembled. 'I tripped over him.'

'Stay there. I'll look.'

Cato crouched low and eased himself into the entrance, feeling across the stone floor. His fingers brushed against cloth, and he probed further until he discovered a limb, a leg encased in a soft boot. Taking hold of the ankle he dragged the body out into the moonlight and stood up. The man's dark outer robe was pulled up over his head.

'Who is it?' Julia asked. 'Is he… dead?'

'Only one way to find out,' Cato muttered as he leaned over and pulled the loose fold of material down to reveal the face. The dark wavy hair and handsome features of a nobleman emerged into the dim light.As Cato continued to draw the robe back they saw the ragged slash that cut right across his throat. The garments on his upper body were drenched in blood and glistened in the moonlight.

Julia touched her hands to her mouth.'Oh, no…Prince Amethus.'

08 Centurion