Free The Imperial Banner by Nick Brown Page B

building. Cassius led both horses over to a trough by the stable. He was sweating heavily. He looked down at the moist cotton under his arms. He hated sweating.
    Once the horses had had their fill, he took a drink from his canteen and went to fetch Simo. Behind the door was an empty storeroom. The old woman was kneeling over the girl, Simo beside her. The girl was indeed pretty, though no more than thirteen or fourteen; and Cassius realised that she was in fact the old woman’s granddaughter. Her face was marked around her mouth, her nose bloodied. She was whimpering; and when she caught sight of Cassius, she pulled her knees up under her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs.
    ‘Come, Simo,’ said Cassius.
    ‘She needs help, sir,’ said the Gaul.
    ‘Her grandmother can help her.’
    ‘Just a few moments more, sir.’
    ‘No. Not one moment more.’
    Simo spoke a few more words of Aramaic, then stood. Cassius was almost outside when the old woman scuttled after him, threw herself at his feet again and grabbed his tunic. Simo put a hand to her shoulder and spoke to her but the old woman wouldn’t move, instead twisting the material in her hands, staring up at Cassius as she pleaded.
    ‘Simo, just tell her we can do no more for the girl, we must—’
    ‘She’s not talking about the girl, sir. She asks you to recover the grain. Those bags are all they have. Months of work. She doesn’t know how they will survive. They—’
    Cassius couldn’t believe Simo was bothering to translate the old crone’s every word.
    ‘Get her off me, damn you!’
    Simo grabbed both the old woman’s shoulders but her grip was surprisingly strong. Cassius tried to drag his legs free but she still wouldn’t budge. Only when he gripped both her hands and wrenched them away could he finally move.
    ‘By the gods!’
    Cassius’s kick almost knocked the door off its hinges. It bounced back and narrowly missed him as he stalked outside.
    ‘Get on your horse, Simo. We are leaving.’
    Cassius strode over to his mount and leapt up on to the saddle. After a couple of steps it veered left, earning itself a vicious kick.
    ‘Why I must be dragged down into the shit like this I will never know!’ Cassius hissed between clenched teeth.
    Simo was hurrying towards his own steed, the old woman not far behind.
    Cassius caught sight of the young girl. She was on her feet, holding on to the door to keep herself up. Cassius hadn’t noticed before, but mounted above the entrance were three stone carvings; religious icons placed there to protect the home and the people within.
    ‘Your gods have failed you,’ he muttered bitterly.
    He yanked the reins and kicked down hard, sending his horse charging round the stable and up the slope.

IV
    They passed the boundary line in the middle of the afternoon. Later, as the sky darkened around them, Cassius had long realised they wouldn’t reach Palmyra. The road remained eerily quiet and – apart from a few merchants heading west – the only other traveller they’d encountered was an imperial courier. He had charged round a bend, his galloping steed kicking up swathes of dust, only stopping because of Cassius’s frantic waving. Pausing for a few breathy words, the courier advised them to seek shelter at an occupied way-station on the road about ten miles west of Palmyra.
    Now, as they urged their weary mounts up a hill, Cassius hoped that the smudge of yellow light ahead was coming from that very building. He looked back at Simo. The Gaul’s horse had earlier turned a hoof on a stone and was now limping up the slope, Simo dragging it along by the reins. Cassius sat up straight, tightened his grip and concentrated on keeping his steed away from the road-edge.
    The final moments of the journey were interminable, and when they finally dismounted, he let out a mighty breath.
    ‘Thank Jupiter that’s done.’
    The way-station was built of smooth limestone blocks. On each side of a solid-looking wooden