The Isis Covenant

The fifty remaining men of the Second Cohort stumbled blinking from the darkness into the light.

We emerged into a narrow, steep-sided valley in the centre of the mountains, accessible only by the tunnels we had just negotiated. On the far side, carved from the living rock, lay a wondrous sight. Soaring columns of red sandstone flanked the doorway of a great temple.

The valley stretched for a mile from left to right, a bleak, boulder-strewn fissure that looked as if it might have been cut by a giant axe. No living thing, man nor beast, was in sight, and I ordered my legionaries to draw swords and advance in line to secure the temple. It was the work of moments to cross the hundred and fifty paces that separated the cave mouth and the building and soon we were standing in its shadow on a flag-stoned court. In scale and magnificence, the temple would count as one of the wonders of the world, and was as out of place in this barren wilderness as a gladiator in the House of the Vestals. Intricate carvings of gods and kings covered the walls, which were cut by niches for statues of the queen who had ordered its construction and of strange, half-human, half-animal creatures; men with the heads of dogs, crocodiles, snakes and hawks. And, in the centre of the lintel, a single staring eye. Clearly the eye was Dido’s symbol, or that of the god whose will ruled here, for it also adorned the great altar, cut from a single block of stone, which stood in front of the temple steps. The polished surface was stained with the blood of the last sacrifice, but there was worse to come. ‘Mars save us.’ I heard the whisper from the soldier to my right and saw him make the sign against evil. I could not help following him as I realized what I was seeing. In a shallow bowl carved into the top of the altar lay the body of a child, its belly slit the way an augur might slit a chicken to read from its entrails. In the same instant we froze as a tall figure in a green robe appeared at the top of the stairs screaming insults in a stumbling, heavily accented Latin.

‘None who enter the sacred valley may ever leave it. A curse upon the red scourge that defiles this place.’ Spittle shot from his lips as he raised a shaking finger and pointed it at my face. ‘A curse upon the seeker. A curse upon the betrayer.’ The finger swung to Bassus, who drew back as if he expected to be struck down by a lightning bolt. ‘I call upon the all-seeing eye to destroy the usurpers.’ This last in a rising shriek which ended in an unmistakable rumbling from our rear that told me that somehow the tunnel entrance had been blocked. I felt the men at my back shifting uneasily and saw the triumph in the priest’s eyes.

‘Steady,’ I commanded. ‘You are soldiers of Rome, not some leaderless rabble. Do not be taken in by a charlatan’s tricks. What has been done can be undone. These people must be supplied from somewhere. They cannot trap us without trapping themselves.’ As I spoke I marched to where the priest waited with a look of perplexed savagery, which I wiped from his face with the hilt of my sword, splashing blood across the stones and snapping his front teeth at the root. He went down with a howl and I hauled him to his feet with my sword point in his ribs, forcing him in front of me into the shadow of the great pillared entrance.

‘Torches!’

Ten men followed me inside, while the rest deployed to protect the temple against any threat from without. The torches flared, and for a wonderful moment we were blinded by the light reflected from a million golden surfaces and awed by the riches confronting us. But we had no time to dwell on this magnificence. Uttering a cry in some foul language, the priest slipped from my grasp, and we were attacked from all sides. In that first second I was tempted to form the testudo, the impenetrable carapace of shields that is the legionary’s defence of last resort. But a moment’s reflection told me these were not warriors who faced us, only mere priests and slaves, old men, women and children armed with hunting spears, knives and scythes. Instead, we retreated in good order to the door and formed line. Our attackers pressed us hard, hacking desperately at shields and armour, but within seconds I heard the voice I had been waiting for. Bassus had at last reacted to the commotion and led the rest of the men to our aid. With a supreme effort we pivoted like a door opening to allow our reinforcements to join us and the slaughter began.

As I moved forward my sword sank deep in the belly of a wild-eyed elder and I rammed him aside with my shield. Following behind, the armoured wedge of my men stepped over twitching bodies as I sought the High Priest among the panicking throng. A flash of green caught my eye and I turned to see him clambering up between two enormous statues on the far side of the temple. Snarling, I hacked my way towards him determined his soul would be mine to take. Before I reached the base of the figures I was confronted by a teenage boy wielding a long spear. A spear in the right hands can be a dangerous weapon, even against a man in armour, but this spear was held like a farmer’s hoe and I was inside the point before he made up his mind where he was going to place it. My sword arm rose and I saw the light of hope die in his eyes. He fell back knowing he would never be a man.

‘Hold!’

A man in battle kills and keeps on killing until he is dead or there is nothing left to kill, but something in that desperate shout stayed my hand. I looked up to find the High Priest framed by the statues, holding a glittering relic above his head.

‘The crown for his life. The Crown of Isis for the boy’s life.’

The words stayed my hand and the anguish in them told me this was his son. ‘Enough.’ My command rose above the clash of swords and the shrieks of the dying. The clamour receded, leaving only the harsh breathing of the killers and the groans of their victims. I placed the point of my sword at the boy’s throat and his dark eyes widened as he felt the cold iron.

‘Why, priest? What makes your trinket worth a life compared to all this?’

‘Of all Queen Dido’s treasures the Crown of Isis is the greatest.’ He advanced deliberately down the steps still holding the crown aloft. My breath caught in my throat as I noticed for the first time the enormous gem set between the twin horns, its rays flickering like liquid balefire. ‘It was created by Isis herself from the gifts of her father Keb, the gold of the earth and a star plucked from the sky, which she named the Eye of Isis and through which she sees all things. It has been passed down through the ages bestowing immortality on all who wore it.’

He knelt before me and laid the crown, with its golden horns and great diamond, at my feet. I laughed, but my throat felt as dry as the perpetual deserts we had crossed.

‘If it confers immortality, why is Queen Dido herself not here to place it in my hands?’

He looked up and I read the contempt in his eyes at the hunger in my voice.

‘Only Dido had the strength to set it aside and place it beyond the reach of men.’

‘Yet men have come here, and now you offer it up to me. Why?’

His eyes flicked to the boy so quickly I wasn’t certain what I’d seen. I increased the pressure on the point and heard a satisfying gurgle of terror.

‘Why?’ I repeated.

‘If you are here, it is by the will of the goddess.’ His eyes locked on mine and I saw something beyond human comprehension in them. At the same time his voice grew in strength. I will remember his words till the day the world ends. ‘You may have fifty years in each hundred without paying a single day’s price, but stay a moment longer and Isis will keep your soul for an eternity of torment.’

‘Out. All of you, out.’ Bassus darted a suspicious glance at me as he left the temple, and in that moment signed his own death warrant. ‘Leave the priest and his son, but remove the rest.’

An hour later, when the screams had faded, I emerged into the light to find every man staring at me and the burden I carried. I wiped my bloody sword on a cloth cut from the priest’s green robe.