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Authors: Robert Fabbri
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his birth.
‘It’s not looking too good,’ Corvinus said, tight-lipped, walking up behind Vespasian with Magnus as he finally managed to find his water-skin, ‘there are twenty-six
survivors, plus us four, and only eight water-skins, all of which are half-empty.’
‘Nine now, prefect,’ Vespasian replied, pulling the skin from the deep hole in the sand. ‘Surely we can work out where the horses were and dig down to them?’
‘We’ve been trying to but most of the horses and all but one of the mules bolted taking the provisions with them. They’re all lost out there somewhere,’ Corvinus snapped,
waving his arm around, ‘we’ll never find them. All we’ve been digging up is dead auxiliaries; I’ve lost three of my four decurions. They didn’t deserve to die like
that, it’s a fucking shambles.’
‘Well, if there’s no hope of any more survivors then we should get going quickly before the sun gets too hot.’
‘Go where?’ Corvinus shouted.
‘To Siwa as planned, prefect; it shouldn’t be more than a day away.’
‘And what are we going to do when we get there? We’ve got hardly any men left; you’ve managed to lose most of them on this mad scheme of yours.’
‘Let me remind you who you’re talking to, prefect,’ Vespasian retorted, pointing a finger at the young cavalry prefect’s face.
‘I don’t need to be reminded that I’m talking to an upstart of a New Man with no breeding and a Sabine accent.’
‘Whatever your patrician prejudices might make of me, Corvinus, I am the Governor’s, and therefore the Senate’s, representative in Cyrenaica and you will do as I order without
question. And if you think that saving citizens from slavery is a mad scheme then I pray that should that fate befall you there is someone like me around willing to come after you. Now get the men
ready to—’
A distant, mournful, wailing cry from high overhead cut him off.
Vespasian looked east towards its source. ‘What the fuck was that?’
‘Another poor sod who’s had the misfortune to follow you into the desert,’ Corvinus spat. He turned on his heel and stormed away, barking orders at the surviving auxiliaries
who were looking nervously at the sky.
‘I think that you should have made it clear,’ Magnus said, watching Corvinus go, ‘that you’d only come after him if he has an attractive woman in tow, if you take my
meaning?’
Vespasian shot his friend a venomous look. ‘Very funny!’
‘I thought so; and not so far from the truth either.’
Vespasian grunted; he could not deny it to Magnus: if it had not been for his desire for Flavia, they would not be here and a hundred or so men would still be alive. But then, if a man’s
destiny was pre-ordained, those men must have been destined to die here; Fortuna had only held her hands over a few of them to be spared for other tasks and deaths. What, he wondered, was the task
for which he had been spared?
CHAPTER III
‘S IWA , S IWA !’ Z IRI shouted, sending his arms and legs flying
out at all angles in a wild, capering, silhouetted dance on top of a sand dune.
Vespasian looked up at him wearily through eyes squinting against the sun’s midday ferocity; his lips were cracked and his head throbbed from the heat beating down directly onto it in the
absence of his hat.
It was the second day after the sandstorm and they were all in a weakened state having only had three cups each of their precious water on the previous day and one cup each at midmorning today.
Only Ziri seemed to be unaffected by the conditions and he carried on his exuberant jig as his companions struggled up the dune.
‘Not a moment too soon,’ Magnus croaked, working his feet hard to get purchase in the soft sand. ‘I’ve been dreaming all morning about drinking my piss.’
‘That’s a coincidence,’ Vespasian replied with as much of a grin as his parched lips would allow him, ‘I’ve been dreaming all morning about drinking your piss
‘It’s not looking too good,’ Corvinus said, tight-lipped, walking up behind Vespasian with Magnus as he finally managed to find his water-skin, ‘there are twenty-six
survivors, plus us four, and only eight water-skins, all of which are half-empty.’
‘Nine now, prefect,’ Vespasian replied, pulling the skin from the deep hole in the sand. ‘Surely we can work out where the horses were and dig down to them?’
‘We’ve been trying to but most of the horses and all but one of the mules bolted taking the provisions with them. They’re all lost out there somewhere,’ Corvinus snapped,
waving his arm around, ‘we’ll never find them. All we’ve been digging up is dead auxiliaries; I’ve lost three of my four decurions. They didn’t deserve to die like
that, it’s a fucking shambles.’
‘Well, if there’s no hope of any more survivors then we should get going quickly before the sun gets too hot.’
‘Go where?’ Corvinus shouted.
‘To Siwa as planned, prefect; it shouldn’t be more than a day away.’
‘And what are we going to do when we get there? We’ve got hardly any men left; you’ve managed to lose most of them on this mad scheme of yours.’
‘Let me remind you who you’re talking to, prefect,’ Vespasian retorted, pointing a finger at the young cavalry prefect’s face.
‘I don’t need to be reminded that I’m talking to an upstart of a New Man with no breeding and a Sabine accent.’
‘Whatever your patrician prejudices might make of me, Corvinus, I am the Governor’s, and therefore the Senate’s, representative in Cyrenaica and you will do as I order without
question. And if you think that saving citizens from slavery is a mad scheme then I pray that should that fate befall you there is someone like me around willing to come after you. Now get the men
ready to—’
A distant, mournful, wailing cry from high overhead cut him off.
Vespasian looked east towards its source. ‘What the fuck was that?’
‘Another poor sod who’s had the misfortune to follow you into the desert,’ Corvinus spat. He turned on his heel and stormed away, barking orders at the surviving auxiliaries
who were looking nervously at the sky.
‘I think that you should have made it clear,’ Magnus said, watching Corvinus go, ‘that you’d only come after him if he has an attractive woman in tow, if you take my
meaning?’
Vespasian shot his friend a venomous look. ‘Very funny!’
‘I thought so; and not so far from the truth either.’
Vespasian grunted; he could not deny it to Magnus: if it had not been for his desire for Flavia, they would not be here and a hundred or so men would still be alive. But then, if a man’s
destiny was pre-ordained, those men must have been destined to die here; Fortuna had only held her hands over a few of them to be spared for other tasks and deaths. What, he wondered, was the task
for which he had been spared?
CHAPTER III
‘S IWA , S IWA !’ Z IRI shouted, sending his arms and legs flying
out at all angles in a wild, capering, silhouetted dance on top of a sand dune.
Vespasian looked up at him wearily through eyes squinting against the sun’s midday ferocity; his lips were cracked and his head throbbed from the heat beating down directly onto it in the
absence of his hat.
It was the second day after the sandstorm and they were all in a weakened state having only had three cups each of their precious water on the previous day and one cup each at midmorning today.
Only Ziri seemed to be unaffected by the conditions and he carried on his exuberant jig as his companions struggled up the dune.
‘Not a moment too soon,’ Magnus croaked, working his feet hard to get purchase in the soft sand. ‘I’ve been dreaming all morning about drinking my piss.’
‘That’s a coincidence,’ Vespasian replied with as much of a grin as his parched lips would allow him, ‘I’ve been dreaming all morning about drinking your piss
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