Read Online The Imperial Banner by Nick Brown - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Nick Brown
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reeds and the water, and occasionally swept by or followed the horses for a while. The temperature was perfect for riding: the two men wore only tunics, their skin cooled by a thin morning mist.
The horses seemed well refreshed after their night’s rest. They were both fine animals, hired at considerable expense. Cassius’s was the larger of the two, a rangy grey; Simo’s a stockier chestnut. They were both mares, and seemed to get on well, occasionally nudging each other as they walked along side by side.
Cassius glanced across at Simo. Though he worked all day long and never seemed to eat much, the Gaul was a heavy man, and he’d added several pounds during their time in Cyzicus. Cassius was convinced he’d lost a few of those already, just as he had during their last trip to the Syrian interior. He wondered how much of it was down to exertion, how much to anxiety.
Like all slaves, Simo was expert at concealing his feelings. Since their departure, he hadn’t given a single inkling of what Cassius felt sure must be profound disappointment at having to leave their settled life in Cyzicus, or betrayed his fears about what this sudden change in their fortunes might bring.
‘It seems that once again you must share in my bad luck, Simo.’
The Gaul sat a little higher in his saddle, and flicked at a fly buzzing around his head. He said nothing.
‘I did say the good times couldn’t last, didn’t I?’
‘You did, sir. You did.’
‘You miss it, I dare say? The villa, the other staff. Your life there.’
Simo straightened his tunic sleeve and smiled blandly. ‘When you purchased me from Master Trimalchio I understood that I would share both fortune and misfortune alike, sir. Such is the lot of a slave.’
‘Ever the diplomat, Simo. Ever the diplomat.’
Buying Simo the previous winter had almost bankrupted Cassius – and he’d also needed a hefty loan from his father – but he believed the investment was worthwhile. He could forgive the Gaul’s occasional unexplained disappearances and his strange obsession with helping others, because he looked after him fantastically well. Skilled, bright, loyal slaves were hard to find.
Though he would never admit it, Cassius felt a modicum of guilt for what he had put Simo through. The Gaul had been a respected deputy to his first master, a valued part of the merchant’s business, but all that had ended two years ago when Trimalchio had generously lent him to his old comrade’s errant son. Within days, Simo found himself at a remote desert fort, facing hundreds of rampaging Palmyran rebels alongside Cassius and the rest of the garrison.
Those few terrible days aside, however, once they’d arrived in Cyzicus with General Navio’s retinue, life had been good. Now, though, they were pretty much back where they started. Simo knew about the indiscretion that had led to his master joining the army but Cassius wasn’t particularly keen to explain that a similar ‘moment of weakness’ had landed them in this new predicament.
‘If it makes you feel any better,’ he said, ‘having one’s destiny dictated by the whim of others is a concept I am well able to understand.’
‘I suppose we all must do our duty, sir.’
‘Quite.’
‘I gather we are bound for Palmyra, sir?’
‘Indeed. Our task can be summarised simply enough: we are to embark on a treasure hunt.’
By noon, they had passed twelve milestones on the Palmyra road. Many of these had been defaced by crude graffiti: first by Zenobia’s triumphant warriors, more recently by passing legionaries eager to mark newly reclaimed territory. As they were making good time, Cassius decided to stop for some food.
‘Here, Simo, some shade for our meal. We might find a trough for the horses too.’
Cassius coaxed his mount off the road and down a slope towards a ramshackle farmhouse. Leaning back in his saddle as his horse descended, he saw that the settlement was made up of two mud-brick buildings. The
The horses seemed well refreshed after their night’s rest. They were both fine animals, hired at considerable expense. Cassius’s was the larger of the two, a rangy grey; Simo’s a stockier chestnut. They were both mares, and seemed to get on well, occasionally nudging each other as they walked along side by side.
Cassius glanced across at Simo. Though he worked all day long and never seemed to eat much, the Gaul was a heavy man, and he’d added several pounds during their time in Cyzicus. Cassius was convinced he’d lost a few of those already, just as he had during their last trip to the Syrian interior. He wondered how much of it was down to exertion, how much to anxiety.
Like all slaves, Simo was expert at concealing his feelings. Since their departure, he hadn’t given a single inkling of what Cassius felt sure must be profound disappointment at having to leave their settled life in Cyzicus, or betrayed his fears about what this sudden change in their fortunes might bring.
‘It seems that once again you must share in my bad luck, Simo.’
The Gaul sat a little higher in his saddle, and flicked at a fly buzzing around his head. He said nothing.
‘I did say the good times couldn’t last, didn’t I?’
‘You did, sir. You did.’
‘You miss it, I dare say? The villa, the other staff. Your life there.’
Simo straightened his tunic sleeve and smiled blandly. ‘When you purchased me from Master Trimalchio I understood that I would share both fortune and misfortune alike, sir. Such is the lot of a slave.’
‘Ever the diplomat, Simo. Ever the diplomat.’
Buying Simo the previous winter had almost bankrupted Cassius – and he’d also needed a hefty loan from his father – but he believed the investment was worthwhile. He could forgive the Gaul’s occasional unexplained disappearances and his strange obsession with helping others, because he looked after him fantastically well. Skilled, bright, loyal slaves were hard to find.
Though he would never admit it, Cassius felt a modicum of guilt for what he had put Simo through. The Gaul had been a respected deputy to his first master, a valued part of the merchant’s business, but all that had ended two years ago when Trimalchio had generously lent him to his old comrade’s errant son. Within days, Simo found himself at a remote desert fort, facing hundreds of rampaging Palmyran rebels alongside Cassius and the rest of the garrison.
Those few terrible days aside, however, once they’d arrived in Cyzicus with General Navio’s retinue, life had been good. Now, though, they were pretty much back where they started. Simo knew about the indiscretion that had led to his master joining the army but Cassius wasn’t particularly keen to explain that a similar ‘moment of weakness’ had landed them in this new predicament.
‘If it makes you feel any better,’ he said, ‘having one’s destiny dictated by the whim of others is a concept I am well able to understand.’
‘I suppose we all must do our duty, sir.’
‘Quite.’
‘I gather we are bound for Palmyra, sir?’
‘Indeed. Our task can be summarised simply enough: we are to embark on a treasure hunt.’
By noon, they had passed twelve milestones on the Palmyra road. Many of these had been defaced by crude graffiti: first by Zenobia’s triumphant warriors, more recently by passing legionaries eager to mark newly reclaimed territory. As they were making good time, Cassius decided to stop for some food.
‘Here, Simo, some shade for our meal. We might find a trough for the horses too.’
Cassius coaxed his mount off the road and down a slope towards a ramshackle farmhouse. Leaning back in his saddle as his horse descended, he saw that the settlement was made up of two mud-brick buildings. The
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