East of Seleucia, autumn 53 BC
The desolate landscape stretched into infinity.
Behind the soldiers, an immense range of mountains ran from north to south, the snow-capped tops a stark contrast to the sandy plain far below. It had taken weeks to negotiate countless narrow passes, icy streams and winding paths along cliff edges. Hundreds of legionaries had perished in landslides or died of exposure. The bare slopes had provided little in the way of fuel and the occasional goat brought down by an arrow could not feed everyone. Dried meat, unleavened bread and sheer determination had carried the remaining prisoners over the jagged peaks.
That and the instant execution awaiting any man refusing to march. Parthian discipline was even harsher than Roman.
The column of over nine thousand soldiers had excitedly made its way down a winding track that morning. Just reaching flat ground had felt like success. Low dunes rose smoothly on either side as another desert prepared to welcome them. The sky was clear of clouds, its only inhabitants the ubiquitous vultures.
But the wilderness was not as intimidating as before Carrhae. These men had been through unbelievable suffering, seen unimaginable things. This was just another trial to be endured. Survived.
Romulus adjusted the cloth covering his head and wiped away sweat. Like that of everyone else, the young soldier's helmet dangled from the yoke over one shoulder. There was little need to wear it, with no enemies for hundreds of miles.
Brennus and Tarquinius marched confidently beside him. During the passage of the mountains, their survival skills had helped keep the remaining men of the Sixth alive. The pelts of the wolves Tarquinius had trapped served as blankets and Brennus had regularly brought down goats or antelope with a bow he had procured from a guard.
With all senior officers dead, a power vacuum had been left in the ranks. Soldiers needed someone in charge and with so many men from different legions, it had been difficult to organise the Roman prisoners. Sensibly the Parthian officers who had been placed in command banded together the men who had served in the same unit, but there had been an inevitable reluctance to obey more than basic orders since leaving the capital two months earlier.
Many legionaries now looked to Tarquinius as an unofficial leader. He had been treating the wounded for months, and his ability to predict the future was also well known throughout the column. The Etruscan's understanding of the Parthian language had naturally attracted their captors' attention. The mystical skills he showed also earned respect. In recognition, Tarquinius had been made the equivalent of a centurion, answering to the officer commanding one of the reformed cohorts. Although the haruspex was not a regular, taking orders from one of their own was easier to stomach.
So far, the Etruscan's cohort was the only one to have been re-armed, a source of real pride for Romulus and Brennus. But only Tarquinius knew why. The rest were relieved not to have to carry any more for a time. A train of mules behind carried the remaining weapons, food and water.
'When will we reach Margiana?' asked Romulus.
'Five to six weeks,' replied the Etruscan.
He groaned. Located on the northeast border of the Parthian empire, their destination never seemed to get any nearer.
'At least those bastards have to walk too.' Brennus indicated the warriors to either side of the column.
The prisoners might outnumber the Parthians twenty to one, but it meant little. They were now more than a thousand miles northeast of Seleucia and there was nowhere to go, no point in resisting. Only the dark-skinned natives knew the exact locations of the life-saving waterholes in the vast emptiness of sand and the Romans had no choice but to follow. Without water no one could survive.
'Why didn't they send cataphracts to guard us?' asked Romulus.
'Rome doesn't accept defeat easily,' said Brennus. 'Orodes is probably saving them in case of another attack.'
Tarquinius chuckled. 'The king might not know it, but nobody wants revenge. Caesar won't be too happy having lost his sponsor, but he 's far too busy with other matters. And Pompey will be delighted that Crassus is out of the equation. This will let him concentrate on Caesar.'
Romulus sighed. Italian politics meant little here. 'If Rome doesn't retaliate, how can there be any chance of returning home?' he muttered. 'We are in the middle of nowhere, heading for the ends of the earth.'
'We will make our own way back,' whispered Tarquinius.
The Gaul did not hear the comment. 'We are the Forgotten Legion!' he cried cynically, pointing forward.
All eyes followed his outstretched arm.
Pacorus, the Parthian officer in charge, had shrewdly obtained one silver eagle from the booty after Carrhae. While the others decorated Orodes' palace, his was constantly positioned at the head of the column.
Brennus stabbed a finger at the metal bird again, recognising its significance. The standard was vital to the Parthian's new command and had become the soldiers' most important possession. A growl of pride left men's throats. There had been little to cheer about since Carrhae — till now.
The guards listened curiously, but did not respond straight away. Discipline was less strict now than when they had left the city. Enough men had been executed to keep the rest in line. But until an enemy was in sight, their new-found trust only went so far.
Tarquinius smiled. 'A good name.'
'It has a certain ring to it,' Romulus admitted.
'Good!' Brennus paused, turning to face the ranks following. 'The Forgotten Legion!'
Quickly the Gaul's cry was taken up and the sound rose into hot, windless air.
As roars surged down the column, many Parthians became alarmed and began to reach for their weapons. This had never happened before.
Pacorus was riding nearby and he leaned over in the saddle to speak to Tarquinius. When the answer came, the commander smiled and barked a response. The warriors relaxed at his words. Spurring his horse to the front, Pacorus went to check for signs of other travellers. He was not one to lead from behind.
'What did he want?' asked Romulus.
'To know why we shouted. I told him we were the Forgotten Legion and he replied that much was expected of us.'
Brennus grinned, pleased at the response to his cry.
'He also said that our gods have forsaken us.'
'They turned their backs when we crossed the river,' said Felix. The resourceful little Gaul had attached himself to the trio after leaving Seleucia.
'Maybe on some,' replied Brennus seriously. 'But not on the Forgotten Legion.'
'Perhaps you're right.' Felix made the sign against evil. 'We 're still alive!'
Romulus agreed and silently thanked Jupiter for his protection. Something made him glance at the Etruscan, who had a faint smile playing on his lips. Nothing about the trek eastwards ever upset him, which he found strange. Although Brennus now seemed content with his lot, every other man worried about marching further from the known world. But Tarquinius positively relished it. Every few days he would write notes on the ancient map, describing what he had seen and explaining them to Romulus if he asked. Thanks to these lessons, the young soldier had also come to enjoy the journey and to respect the burning deserts and mighty peaks they had crossed. The image of Alexander in his mind had grown to near mythical status. The Lion of Macedon must have been an extraordinary leader, he thought. Perhaps Tarquinius is retracing his steps.
'Alexander was one of the most charismatic leaders ever seen,' said the Etruscan.
Romulus jumped. 'Crassus didn't try to inspire us at all, did he?'
'The fool did not,' he replied. 'So the bad omens affected the men badly. If they had loved their leader as Alexander's did, they might have overcome their fear.'
The words came to Romulus out of nowhere. 'Lead by example. As you do, treating the sick and injured.'
Tarquinius' lips twitched and he squinted into the clear blue sky. 'And the omens for the rest of the journey are good. All the way to Margiana and Scythia.'
Despite the intense heat, Brennus did not dare to ask if those places were where he would save his friends. He did not want to know exactly when the slate had to be wiped clean. Brennus shoved away the thought and kept marching.
Romulus watched from the corner of his eye. It was obvious that Brennus never talked about their destination and he was convinced Tarquinius knew something about the Gaul's fate that he was keeping quiet. But living in such close proximity with hundreds of men rarely afforded an occasion to speak in private. Even when one did arise, Romulus was not sure he wanted to ask either friend. It felt sufficiently strange that the Etruscan knew so much. Romulus had known Tarquinius for two years, but was only now getting used to his extraordinary abilities. He was forever using sky, birds and wind as ways to accurately reveal past and future events. Every so often Tarquinius would explain what he was doing and Romulus could now predict simple things such as the next rain shower. It was fascinating knowledge and he concentrated hard every time the haruspex revealed anything new. But Tarquinius kept many things to himself still. 'Much of what I know is sacred,' he would say regretfully. 'And should only be revealed to a trained soothsayer.'
Romulus was mostly content with this. Life was simpler not knowing everything that would happen. It was enough to be told that he would survive the Parthian army. This left room in his heart for the dream of returning to Rome.
Finding his family.
During the long march, Romulus has gone through periods of blaming his mother for her awful predicament. She could have killed Gemellus any time he was in her bed. But she had not. Why? Anger filled him when he thought of how easily the fat merchant could have been silenced for ever. But eventually her reasoning became clear. She was not a trained fighter like him. Velvinna had been a mother with two young children; she had done everything in her power to protect them. She had let Gemellus rape her over and over again for the sake of the twins' safety. This bitter realisation had filled Romulus with shame and self-disgust. How could he not have appreciated his mother's sacrifice before? It made him even more determined to kill Gemellus. But it was hard not to lose hope. Unlike Brennus, he still struggled to believe some of Tarquinius' more incredible predictions. From all practical points of view, going home now seemed impossible.
'Margiana?' said Felix. 'Never heard of it.'
'Trust me,' Tarquinius replied archly. 'It exists.'
'What is it like?'
'Green landscape. Wide rivers and fertile land.'
Felix gestured at the desert. 'Anything'd be better than this hell.'
Romulus laughed. As well as being one of the few survivors of Bassius' cohort, Felix was good company.
'So who lives there?' said Brennus.
'Descendants of the Greeks, meaning they are civilised people. And nomads. Men with yellow skin, black hair and slanted eyes.'
'Sound like demons,' muttered Felix.
'They bleed like anyone else.'
'How do they fight?' Brennus was ever the pragmatist. He would always be a warrior.
'With bows. From horseback.'
There was a collective groan.
'And not friendly with Parthia either?'
Tarquinius shook his head.
'Marched to the far side of the world to be massacred,' said Felix sarcastically. 'Again.'
'Not if I have anything to do with it,' Tarquinius replied. 'We need to cover each shield with silk.'
'What? The material the Parthians make their banners from?' asked the Gaul. The huge, brightly coloured flags had helped to terrify Crassus' soldiers before Carrhae.
'The same. It will stop those.' The Etruscan pointed at the shafts in Brennus' quiver.
The spirits of those within earshot lifted at the prospect of surviving the arrow storms that had slaughtered their comrades at Carrhae.
Romulus had occasionally seen noble ladies at the arena dressed in softly shining robes. 'Costs a fortune, doesn't it?' he said.
'Not if we liberate a caravan load of the stuff.'
Brennus and Romulus were now openly curious.
'In twelve days we will cross paths with Judaean traders returning from India,' remarked Tarquinius.
Parthia was virtually empty, populated only by small nomadic tribes, and since leaving Seleucia there had been few others crossing the wilderness. But by now no one reacted to the Etruscan's second sight. If Tarquinius said something was going to happen, it would.
'That is a long journey,' said Romulus with surprise. He knew from the ancient map that India was even further than Margiana. To discover that men would make the trip by choice was a surprise. 'It must be worth while.'
Tarquinius smiled enigmatically.
Brennus began to grow impatient and the Etruscan relented.
'They will be carrying spices mostly. And a lot of silk.'
'For us to cover our scuta,' said Brennus thoughtfully. 'Pacorus might need some convincing. And Orodes won't be too pleased if his captains start stealing from traders.'
Tarquinius looked shocked. 'Who said we would rob anyone?'
Brennus snorted. 'How else can you part Judaeans from their goods?'
'I will buy the fabric.'
'Need more than the gold head on that,' replied the Gaul, nodding at the lituus dangling from Tarquinius' belt.
Since Pacorus had realised the Etruscan's worth, Tarquinius had stopped hiding his symbol of power. Remembering stories of haruspices from childhood, other soldiers regarded the staff with awe and it gave their cohort a special place in the Forgotten Legion.
Even Romulus felt dubious. Silk was the most precious of commodities. Only small amounts reached the markets in Rome, transported distances that few could even imagine. The amount required to cover over nine thousand shields would cost a fortune.
'So how will you buy it?' the Gaul asked.
Tarquinius would not answer. 'I need to talk to Pacorus,' he announced.
Brennus rolled his eyes.
'He won't tell us,' said Romulus. 'You should know that by now.'
The Gaul laughed.
Well used to Tarquinius' secretive nature, Romulus did not ask either. They had survived Carrhae, marched east for over a thousand miles with few mishaps. Despite an apparent lack of funds, he felt reassured by the prediction. The wise haruspex would win over Pacorus and get them the silk to give them a way of fighting new enemies. Getting back to Rome might seem impossible, but this did not. He strode forward confidently, the hot sand crunching beneath the soles of his sandals.
Tarquinius was as good as his word. That night, he left the others huddled by a tiny fire, eating bread and dried goat meat. Once the legionaries had sworn allegiance to Parthia, their captors had begun to treat them better and they were now fed a reasonable amount every day. There was no point starving men who would be expected to fight for the empire.
Making his way quietly through the darkness, the Etruscan observed the resting soldiers. Although they were captives, there was still good discipline, a sense of order. The cloth tents had been placed in neat lines, century by century. Even temporary ramparts had been thrown up, with pairs of sentries marching vigilantly round the perimeter. It looked like a typical army camp, except that this was further from Rome than any legionary had ever ventured.
Since the prisoners had realised they were not to be killed out of hand, their spirits had been rising. They would fight well, especially when Tarquinius revealed a new protection against the tribes' lethal arrows.
'Halt!' Burly warriors levelled spears at the Etruscan. Pacorus kept Parthians stationed around his tent at night. 'Who goes there?'
'The haruspex.'
Fear filled their eyes. 'What do you want?' one asked.
'A word with Pacorus.'
They conferred with each other for a moment.
'Wait here,' the first guard said curtly. Leaving his companions to watch Tarquinius, he entered the large tent a few steps away. The Parthian was not gone long. Lifting the cloth flap, he jerked his head.
Tarquinius approached, ducking a little to enter. The warrior lingered at the opening, clutching his weapon nervously.
In stark contrast to the Romans' accommodation, the interior of Pacorus' tent was richly decorated. Thick wool carpets covered the floor and a brazier smoked in one corner, providing warmth against the night air. Oil-soaked torches burned in deep plates, casting long shadows. Reclining cushions lay scattered about, but weapons stacked on a wooden stand were a reminder of the journey's real purpose. Slaves were cooking on a fire, and standing by with platters of food and drink. The tempting smell of roasting meat filled the tent.
The Etruscan's mouth watered. It had been a long time since he had tasted fresh lamb. Memories of Olenus at the cave flooded back and Tarquinius offered up a prayer of thanks for the wisdom the old man had imparted. Because of his abilities, the haruspex knew what was about to happen.
Pacorus was seated cross-legged by the brazier. Waving a half-gnawed bone, he gestured at Tarquinius to sit. The Parthian did not seem at all surprised to see him. 'Share my food,' he said, nodding brusquely at the nearest servant.
Beard greasy with fat, Pacorus' eyes danced with interest. He had shed his normal loose jerkin for an expensive robe and baggy white cotton trousers. Soft leather slippers with pointed toes poked from under his muscled legs. The gold belt circling his waist was delicate, yet a pair of curved daggers hung from it. First and foremost, Pacorus was a warrior.
Tarquinius sat down, taking the offered meat and a wooden beaker which contained some good wine. There was silence as he ate and drank. When the Etruscan looked up, Pacorus was eyeing him closely.
'How are my new troops?' said the Parthian. 'Ready to obey their master?'
'They have little choice.'
Pacorus leaned forward. 'Tell me. Will the legionaries fight for me? Or will they run, as at Carrhae?'
'I can only answer for my cohort.' Tarquinius spoke confidently. After Pacorus had granted his request to re-arm the legionaries of his unit, their spirits had risen immeasurably. All it had taken to convince the Parthian was an accurate prediction of which mountain passes were blocked with snow. This valuable information had probably saved lives and certainly shaved several days off their journey. 'They will fight to the last man rather than suffer defeat again.'
Pacorus sat back, looking satisfied. In the manner of enemies who are being polite, the pair spent a short time discussing the journey and border areas. Tarquinius quickly learned that the entire eastern region was full of unrest and that the Forgotten Legion would have its work cut out restoring peace.
'Why have you come?' Pacorus finally asked.
The Etruscan did not prevaricate. 'I have a proposition for you.'
Pacorus lifted a hand and a bowl of warm water carried by a slave instantly appeared. Cleaning his fingers and face, he smiled. 'The prisoner has a proposition for the captor.'
Tarquinius inclined his head.
Annoyed at the lack of deference, the Parthian's manner became less friendly. 'So?'
'Soon a caravan of Judaeans will cross our path.'
'They will be returning from India.' Pacorus picked an orange from a silver tray and began peeling it. 'What has this to do with us?'
'A large part of their cargo will be silk.'
'It usually is.'
Tarquinius changed tack. 'What is the Forgotten Legion's main duty?'
He smiled at the name. 'To defend the empire from hostile tribes. Bactrians, Sogdians and Scythians.'
'Whose warriors use composite bows like the Parthians.'
Pacorus was becoming visibly irritated with Tarquinius' vague manner.
'Your arrows butchered our men at Carrhae. And so will those of the nomads if we do not have a plan,' Tarquinius said.
'Go on,' said the commander icily.
'Orodes will not be pleased if his new border garrison is wiped out shortly after its arrival. That would allow fresh raids into Parthia.'
Pacorus ate a segment of orange, chewing thoughtfully. 'What do you propose?'
'Silk is very strong.'
The Parthian was confused.
'Wrap layers of it over the men's shields,' continued Tarquinius smoothly, 'and no shaft will penetrate.'
'How can you be sure?' Pacorus asked.
'I know many things.'
Pacorus could see where this was going. 'Merchants are taxed as they enter both Antiochia and Seleucia,' he said. 'And the king does not tolerate the robbing of honest travellers.' Most of Parthia's wealth was derived from the tolls imposed on those returning from the east.
'We will not steal from anyone,' replied Tarquinius.
'How will we pay for it then?' snapped the Parthian.
Tarquinius reached into his tunic and produced the leather pouch. Undoing the drawstring, he dropped an enormous ruby into one palm. It had been worn next to his heart ever since he had removed it from the hilt of Tarquin's sword. After seventeen years, the time had finally come to use Olenus' priceless gift. 'This will buy all the silk we need.'
Pacorus pursed his lips. 'I see the lituus is not all you managed to retain.'
Tarquinius said nothing.
The Parthian eyed the gemstone greedily and his right hand moved towards one of his daggers. 'I can take that very easily.'
'But you won't.'
'You are alone and unarmed.' He glanced at his guard. 'There are ten more of my men outside.'
'I would curse you for ever.' Tarquinius' dark eyes glinted in the torchlight as he tucked away the little bag. 'And my cohort might not be too happy either.'
Pacorus swallowed. The blond-haired soldier had helped the column pass safely through the mountains. He could predict landslides days in advance and storms before they appeared in the sky. It was rumoured that he'd even predicted his own side's defeat at Carrhae.
Smiling, the Etruscan walked over to the silk partition that separated the tent into sections. 'May I demonstrate?'
Pacorus nodded.
Tarquinius took down the piece of coloured fabric and wrapped it several times around a square cushion. He paced fifty steps to the end of the long tent, the killing distance that had cut the legions to pieces. Placing it on the floor, he walked back, picking up a deeply curved horn bow and quiver from the wooden stand.
The warrior by the entrance instantly lunged forward, spear at the ready.
Pacorus barked an order and he moved back.
Reaching his host, the haruspex studied the weapon carefully. 'This is very well made,' he commented, testing its draw. 'Powerful too.'
'A good bow takes weeks to build,' said Pacorus. 'The horn and sinew must be just the right thickness and the wood well seasoned.'
Turning towards the target, Tarquinius pulled out an arrow and fitted it to the string. Raising his arms, he paused, half turning.
The Parthian sucked in a breath.
Tarquinius swung away, content the point had been made. He drew back to full stretch, closing one eye and aiming carefully in the dim light. With a grunt, he released. The shaft hissed through the air, landing with a thump.
'Bring it here!' Pacorus shouted.
The guard picked up the cushion, an amazed look on his face. He walked to the commander, bowed and handed it to him.
Pacorus stared, fascinated. The arrow had only penetrated two fingers' depth into the filling. With a gentle tug, he pulled it free. The barbed head was completely covered in fabric.
Silk that was hardly torn or damaged.
The Parthian goggled.
'Wrap half a dozen layers of that over a scutum,' Tarquinius pronounced, 'and you have an army that can withstand any arrow.'
New respect for the haruspex filled Pacorus' eyes.
'You saw Roman discipline at Carrhae before the cataphracts charged. Legionaries are the finest infantry in the world,' said Tarquinius. 'With silk on our shields, the Forgotten Legion will be unbeatable.'
'Those tribes outnumber us.'
'They do not stand a chance,' repeated Tarquinius.
'Why tell me this?'
'My friends and I have no wish to die. We were lucky to survive the last battle.' Tarquinius raised his eyebrows expressively. 'Facing those bows a second time. '
Pacorus was intrigued. Unknown to the Etruscan, his new command from Orodes was a double-edged sword. Historically the horse archers and cataphracts had been able to keep the steppe nomads at bay. But the war with Rome had depleted Parthia's border forces to dangerously low levels and there had been news recently of incursions deep into the empire. Facing marauding tribes with few bowmen of his own had been worrying Pacorus since leaving Seleucia.
The Parthian poured more wine.
'There's your caravan,' said Brennus, shielding his eyes from the sun.
Romulus grinned. Both of them had been impatiently scanning the horizon since Tarquinius' night visit to Pacorus.
Exactly twelve days had passed.
Dust billowed into hot air in the middle distance. It was never difficult to spot movement on the flat plain that had replaced the sand dunes. A long line of camels could just be made out, stretching back into the haze.
Pacorus spotted the animals too and bellowed for the column to halt. The drums beat further commands. Most soldiers had learned basic Parthian orders by now and obeyed promptly. Recognising that new troops would fight best the way they had been trained, the shrewd officer had already learned many Roman manoeuvres from Tarquinius. A day earlier, he had taken the step of arming all the prisoners again. Again, no one but the Etruscan knew why. Despite their initial enjoyment at marching unburdened, the legionaries were proud to carry javelins, swords and shields once more.
Responding to the calls, the cohorts fanned out in a defensive line, six across, three deep, with two protecting the baggage train at the rear. Everyone grounded weapons and scuta, taking sips of water as they waited. Lean and fit, the Roman soldiers had become used to marching in the heat, and exhaustion was no longer an issue. Deep in Parthian territory, few worried at what was approaching.
Some time passed. Gradually the train grew near enough to make out more details. There were about thirty single-humped animals, walking with a distinctive rolling motion. Heavy cloth panniers hung from the sides of each.
'Extraordinary beasts. They can go for days without water,' commented Tarquinius.
Romulus studied them closely as they drew nearer. At Carrhae, the camels had been too far away to see properly.
A party of fifty men accompanied the beasts of burden. Most looked like bodyguards, hired to protect the merchants and their goods. All wore long robes and head-dresses to protect against the sun and most carried a spear and bow. A few wore swords. They showed little signs of discipline. Several scouts rode nervously alongside, their job of reporting the Romans' presence done.
Tarquinius gave them a quick glance. 'Mixture of Indians, Greeks and Parthians. Enough protection against most bandits.'
'Half a century would take them out,' said Romulus.
'There'll be no need,' smiled Brennus. 'Look at them.'
The caravan came to a halt a short distance away and the dust began to settle. Camels roared loudly, glad of a rest.
It was obvious that the newcomers were nervous. Hands gripped weapons tightly, feet stamped on hot sand. Dark eyes shifted uneasily in sweaty faces. There was nothing the traders could do when faced with such overwhelming force. The plain was flat for miles on end.
'I suppose we 're not a common sight,' observed Romulus wryly.
Everyone laughed. Ten thousand legionaries in the middle of Parthia would seem bizarre to other travellers.
Eventually a short man in a grimy white robe began to approach them, his hands held high in a gesture of peace. Three guards followed with dragging feet. Halfway over to the legions, the figure stopped, waiting for a response.
Pacorus glanced at Tarquinius. 'Squad of ten men!' he barked. 'Form up and follow me!'
The Etruscan saluted crisply and led Brennus, Romulus, Felix and seven others to stand in line behind the Parthian. With the legionaries marching to his rear, Pacorus walked his horse slowly across the sand and halted twenty paces from the other party. Tarquinius shouted an order and the files re-formed, facing forwards, scuta at the ready.
The old man in the dirty robe leaned on a well-worn staff, surveying the approaching soldiers. Straggling white hair framed a shrewd face with a large hooked nose. His skin was a deep nut brown, the result of years in the sun. He seemed visibly relieved to find a Parthian in charge.
'Who are you?' demanded Pacorus. 'And where are you bound?'
'My name is Isaac,' replied the stranger swiftly. 'I am a merchant travelling to Syria via Seleucia.' He paused for a moment before daring to ask. 'Who might you be, Excellency?'
Pacorus chuckled. 'An officer of King Orodes' army.' He turned in the saddle, gesturing at the massed cohorts. 'And here are his latest recruits.'
Isaac's mouth opened and closed. 'They look like legionaries.'
'Old eyes do not deceive,' said Pacorus. 'Some months ago, we crushed a huge Roman army west of the capital. These are the survivors. The Forgotten Legion.'
The trader concealed his shock at the news of such an invasion. 'Good news indeed,' he smoothly replied. 'So it is safe to continue our journey?'
'Of course.' Pacorus bowed his head. 'After you have shared my hospitality. The king would wish it, I am sure.'
Isaac smiled, revealing decaying teeth. Not all Parthians could be trusted, but the offer had left no room for refusal.
'A day of rest would be welcome,' the Judaean said, turning and crying out in a high-pitched voice at the men by the camels.
Despite the fact that it was only midday, Pacorus called for camp to be built. Most soldiers complained bitterly about having to dig much earlier than normal. It was extremely hard labour to construct a rampart and ditch under the sun's full heat, but those in Romulus' cohort said little. They could tell the haruspex was plotting something.
A few hundred paces away, the camels had been tethered to pegs in the ground. Angry brays filled the air as they demanded food. Unfamiliar with the bizarre-looking creatures, the Romans stared with fascination. The camels' protuberant eyes, long lashes and wide lips gave an impression of real intelligence, but the humped animals also had vicious tempers, kicking and spitting at anyone who came too close.
Guards and traders had worked together to set up large roomy tents. Stacks of goods were carried inside the biggest. Making the most of the situation, Isaac was setting up full camp as well.
Romulus could hardly contain his excitement. Since Seleucia there had been little of interest apart from weapons training and Tarquinius' continuous lessons and the inquisitive young soldier was frequently bored. The long days of marching were tedious. The desert had been replaced by mountains, and yet more sandy wasteland had soon followed. There was almost no daily variation. The possibility of hearing stories from further east and seeing exotic goods was intoxicating.
Hours passed and the temporary earthworks went up as they had so many times before. Tents were pitched and the tired soldiers threw themselves inside, desperate for shade. A few drops of water washed dust from dry throats. It had been a hard lesson, but everyone knew how to conserve liquid as if it was gold. Every man in the Forgotten Legion now knew Tarquinius' trick of sucking on pebbles.
Pacorus waited until early evening before inviting the Judaean to his spacious pavilion. The baking heat had begun to subside as the sun fell in the sky and a faint breeze sprang up. The commander supplemented his Parthian guards with the ten legionaries, while a further century waited nearby, a show of force designed to intimidate.
The two groups of sentries stared at each other with thinly veiled suspicion. Until they had fought against a common enemy, little would change. Too much blood had been shed on both sides.
Soon afterwards Tarquinius was ordered inside while Brennus and Romulus stood close to the tent wall, trying to hear what might be said. To his frustration, Pacorus and the haruspex talked in muted voices.
'How is he going to do it?' muttered Felix.
Romulus had also been racking his brains to work it out.
'Trust him.' Since Seleucia, nothing could shake Brennus' convictions.
The short Gaul grumbled and fell silent while Romulus craned his head, still trying to hear snippets of the conversation.
They waited for some time, swatting at flies and glaring at the nearby Parthians.
'Here he is!'
The merchant was approaching, followed by three companions, while a solitary guard took up the rear. Reaching the entrance, Isaac spoke briefly with the Parthian sentries before entering with his party.
Pacorus bowed graciously as the Judaean came inside. 'Parthia welcomes honest traders.'
'My thanks, Excellency.' Isaac responded more slowly. He was here under duress, but had to keep up the pretence.
Servants moved forward, offering wine, fruits and meat. The old man drained two cups without pause, then polished off a small plate of food. Chewing on a piece of lamb, he peered at Tarquinius curiously.
The Etruscan pointedly ignored him.
'How long has your journey taken?' Pacorus asked when it seemed his guest had eaten plenty.
'In total?' The Judaean cackled. 'Two years so far, Excellency. India. Scythia. Margiana.'
'Your camels are heavily laden.'
'It has been a good trip,' admitted Isaac grudgingly. 'And it might make a small profit. If I return safe to Damascus.'
'What are you carrying?' Tarquinius spoke for the first time.
The merchant frowned at the question. Unsure of the blond soldier's status, Isaac raised an eyebrow at Pacorus, who nodded.
'Myrrh, olibanum and silk. Some ivory and indigo.' These goods commanded huge prices in Rome, but Isaac made them sound utterly worthless.
'Anything else?'
Isaac's face took on a hunted look.
'Well?' Pacorus' voice was less friendly now. 'All goods must be declared to royal officials.'
'Some gemstones, Excellency,' he said reluctantly. 'Lapis, agate. A few diamonds.'
'Do you know much about jewels?' shot Tarquinius.
The Judaean's eyes flickered. 'I have some knowledge.'
'How much indigo?'
'Three modii.' Isaac's lips pursed at the interrogation and he turned to Pacorus for support. 'All taxes due were paid in full, Excellency. At Antiochia.'
The Parthian smiled.
'One modius would be enough purple dye for a thousand togas!' Tarquinius blew out his cheeks. 'Make you a wealthy man.'
'First the dyers in Tyre must be paid,' protested Isaac. 'They will rob me blind!'
'That will still leave a tidy amount, old man,' said Pacorus dryly.
'I risk my life crossing half the world, Excellency,' Isaac muttered. 'Can I not make a little money?'
'Of course,' Tarquinius laughed, raising both hands placatingly. 'What quantity of silk have you got?'
Sensing interest, there was an instant change in the merchant's demeanour. 'Over a hundred bales of the very best fabric,' he said slyly. 'Want to see?'
The Etruscan glanced at Pacorus, to indicate that the officer was in apparent command.
'Show us.'
Isaac spoke eagerly to his compatriots. Hurrying from the tent, the men quickly returned with two large cloth-wrapped bundles. Walking towards them, the Judaeans expertly unrolled the bales. Clouds of dust rose as the heavy covering came away, but the cream silk within was still clean. Even the tent's dim light could not dampen the glistening sheen from the fabric.
'Worth its weight in gold,' whispered Tarquinius, moving closer. He felt the sheet with a finger and thumb. 'Is it all the same thickness?'
Isaac began to extol the qualities of his merchandise.
Tarquinius dropped the pretence. 'We want the lot.'
The Judaean was shocked. 'All of it?'
He nodded.
'That silk is worth a fortune,' Isaac protested before bowing towards Pacorus. 'And I doubt very much if it is in your. price range.'
Tarquinius reached into his tunic. 'Look at this,' he said, opening the leather pouch.
Warily Isaac extended a grimy hand.
The ruby dropped into his outstretched palm.
'That should pay for everything,' said the Etruscan.
For a moment the Judaean was speechless. It was larger than a hen's egg.
Tarquinius chuckled knowingly.
'I'm not sure this is top quality,' Isaac raised the gem to the light, one eye closed. 'I can see some imperfections.'
'It is worth a king's ransom,' snapped Tarquinius. 'And you know it.'
'Take the ruby,' Pacorus' voice was cold. 'The silk is ours.'
'And the myrrh,' added Tarquinius.
Isaac knew when to take a bargain. 'Of course, Excellency,' he fawned. The stone had already disappeared into his robe. 'They are yours. The goods only need to be carried here from my camp.'
He turned to go.
'Stay,' said Tarquinius. There was no mistaking his tone. 'Until we have seen all the silk.'
The old trader stopped dead. 'Indeed, indeed.' He spat an order at his men, who scurried from the tent.
Tarquinius turned to Pacorus. 'It is strong and thick. And these bales should cover five thousand shields.'
'That's only half of them.'
'It will be more than enough.' The Etruscan stared at the commander, dark eyes piercing. 'I have already seen a mighty victory over the Sogdians.'
'They say you predicted the Roman defeat before Carrhae.'
'Weeks before.'
Pacorus smiled.