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Authors: Nick Brown
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sir.’
Abascantius stood and went inside. Hooves clattered against the courtyard flagstones as the lad led a horse from the stable. Simo then exited the inn, both arms laden down with saddlebags.
‘Sir, I’ve also arranged some food and water for the road.’ He nodded at the satchel. ‘Shall I take that?’
‘No, I’ll keep hold of this.’ Cassius slipped the thick leather strap over his shoulder. ‘Have you settled up?’
‘No need,’ said the innkeeper as he passed them, ‘Master Abascantius has taken care of it.’
‘Ah. Can you have a look at this for me?’
The innkeeper dutifully followed Cassius to a sun-soaked corner of the courtyard. Cassius pulled the map from the satchel and held it up against the wall.
‘Where exactly are we?’
The innkeeper pointed to the northern edge of a large, unnamed lake. ‘Here.’
Cassius moved aside to avoid close contact with the man’s protruding stomach.
‘Best route to Palmyra?’
‘Keep to the lake track for two miles then bear north-east and you’ll soon pick up the main road again. Should pass the boundary line about midday.’
‘Boundary of what?’
‘The territories of Emesa and Palmyra. It’s just a line of stones running north to south. Good marker though. There are milestones too.’
‘Might we make it before sundown?’
The innkeeper bobbed his head from side to side. ‘Not much rain recently. You’ve two good horses there. Might do it, I suppose.’
‘Accommodation?’
‘There are a few inns. Army way-stations too. Not sure if they’re back up and running though.’
Cassius and Simo had passed several of the way-stations since leaving Antioch. They were typically converted houses or inns with stables, manned by a few legionaries and slaves. Their main function was to facilitate the imperial post but some had lodgings for officers and men passing through. Cassius had seen a few burned to the ground, others had been damaged and defaced. Only a few had been reoccupied.
Despite Zenobia’s defeat, Roman control of the province was far from complete. The large cities were once more at heel, but it would take months to fully restore order, transport, trade and communications.
‘Anything else?’ asked the innkeeper.
‘No.’
Shostra and the stable-lad had two horses saddled and ready to leave. It wasn’t difficult to see which was Abascantius’s animal: the stallion was tall and stout, with a glossy black coat.
Its owner returned. He and the innkeeper stared admiringly at the horse and exchanged comments in Aramaic. Abascantius now wore a light, hooded robe over his tunic; and there was something rather disconcerting about the way the hood framed his broad, puffy face.
‘Last chance then: any more queries?’ he asked Cassius as Shostra attached the last of their saddlebags and the lad opened the gate.
‘Just the one, sir. What if I don’t get anywhere? What if I find out nothing?’
‘Have a little self-belief, Corbulo. You’re the hero of Alauran. Start acting like it.’
With an ironic grin, Abascantius took his reins from the lad and mounted up with surprising agility. He gestured for Shostra to ride out first, then caught Cassius’s eye again.
‘If you need an added incentive, I should perhaps remind you that the Service is also responsible for running military prisons. I understand there’s a vacancy at a quarry outside Thessalonica. Two and a half thousand Goths live and work there, guarded by a garrison of just three centuries. The last governor was killed in a riot. Chief Pulcher’s after a young, thrusting type to replace him. Feeling more inspired now?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good. Only eighteen days until the handover now. Don’t waste a moment.’
With a warm smile for the innkeeper, Abascantius tapped down on his horse’s flank and rode out of the courtyard.
The track that ran along the lake was of smooth, compacted earth, and Cassius and Simo made swift progress. Insects hovered over the
Abascantius stood and went inside. Hooves clattered against the courtyard flagstones as the lad led a horse from the stable. Simo then exited the inn, both arms laden down with saddlebags.
‘Sir, I’ve also arranged some food and water for the road.’ He nodded at the satchel. ‘Shall I take that?’
‘No, I’ll keep hold of this.’ Cassius slipped the thick leather strap over his shoulder. ‘Have you settled up?’
‘No need,’ said the innkeeper as he passed them, ‘Master Abascantius has taken care of it.’
‘Ah. Can you have a look at this for me?’
The innkeeper dutifully followed Cassius to a sun-soaked corner of the courtyard. Cassius pulled the map from the satchel and held it up against the wall.
‘Where exactly are we?’
The innkeeper pointed to the northern edge of a large, unnamed lake. ‘Here.’
Cassius moved aside to avoid close contact with the man’s protruding stomach.
‘Best route to Palmyra?’
‘Keep to the lake track for two miles then bear north-east and you’ll soon pick up the main road again. Should pass the boundary line about midday.’
‘Boundary of what?’
‘The territories of Emesa and Palmyra. It’s just a line of stones running north to south. Good marker though. There are milestones too.’
‘Might we make it before sundown?’
The innkeeper bobbed his head from side to side. ‘Not much rain recently. You’ve two good horses there. Might do it, I suppose.’
‘Accommodation?’
‘There are a few inns. Army way-stations too. Not sure if they’re back up and running though.’
Cassius and Simo had passed several of the way-stations since leaving Antioch. They were typically converted houses or inns with stables, manned by a few legionaries and slaves. Their main function was to facilitate the imperial post but some had lodgings for officers and men passing through. Cassius had seen a few burned to the ground, others had been damaged and defaced. Only a few had been reoccupied.
Despite Zenobia’s defeat, Roman control of the province was far from complete. The large cities were once more at heel, but it would take months to fully restore order, transport, trade and communications.
‘Anything else?’ asked the innkeeper.
‘No.’
Shostra and the stable-lad had two horses saddled and ready to leave. It wasn’t difficult to see which was Abascantius’s animal: the stallion was tall and stout, with a glossy black coat.
Its owner returned. He and the innkeeper stared admiringly at the horse and exchanged comments in Aramaic. Abascantius now wore a light, hooded robe over his tunic; and there was something rather disconcerting about the way the hood framed his broad, puffy face.
‘Last chance then: any more queries?’ he asked Cassius as Shostra attached the last of their saddlebags and the lad opened the gate.
‘Just the one, sir. What if I don’t get anywhere? What if I find out nothing?’
‘Have a little self-belief, Corbulo. You’re the hero of Alauran. Start acting like it.’
With an ironic grin, Abascantius took his reins from the lad and mounted up with surprising agility. He gestured for Shostra to ride out first, then caught Cassius’s eye again.
‘If you need an added incentive, I should perhaps remind you that the Service is also responsible for running military prisons. I understand there’s a vacancy at a quarry outside Thessalonica. Two and a half thousand Goths live and work there, guarded by a garrison of just three centuries. The last governor was killed in a riot. Chief Pulcher’s after a young, thrusting type to replace him. Feeling more inspired now?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good. Only eighteen days until the handover now. Don’t waste a moment.’
With a warm smile for the innkeeper, Abascantius tapped down on his horse’s flank and rode out of the courtyard.
The track that ran along the lake was of smooth, compacted earth, and Cassius and Simo made swift progress. Insects hovered over the
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