Free THE ROBE by Unknown

to
have their bones picked. That,' he interrupted himself to remark, 'was how we
lost three-and-twenty thousand Romans--to get possession of the old salt lick.'
    'A most interesting story,' mused Marcellus, who had never heard it told
just that way.
    'Yes,' nodded Manius, 'an interesting story; but the most curious part
of it is the effect that these long battles had upon the old city of Gaza.
After every invasion, a remnant of these foreign armies would remain; deserters
and men too badly crippled to travel home. They stayed in Gaza--a score of
different breeds--to continue their feuds.' The Captain shook his head and made
a wry face. 'Many will tell you of the constant quarrelling and fighting in
port cities such as Rhodes and Alexandria where there is a mixed population
composed of every known tint and tongue. Some say the worst inferno on any
coast of our sea is Joppa. But I'll vote for Gaza as the last place in the
world where a sane man would want to live.'
    'Perhaps Rome should clean up Gaza again,' remarked Marcellus.
    'Quite impossible! And what is true of old Gaza is equally true of all
that country, up as far as Damascus. The Emperor could send in all the legions
that Rome has under arms, and put on such a campaign of slaughter as the world
has never seen; but it wouldn't be a permanent victory. You can't defeat a
Syrian. And as for the Jews!--you can kill a Jew, and bury him, but he'll climb
out alive!' Noting Marcellus's amusement, Manius grinningly elaborated, 'Yes,
sir--he will climb right up the spade-handle and sell you the rug he'd died
in!'
    'But,' queried Marcellus, anxious to know more about his own job,
'doesn't our fort at Minoa--or Gaza, rather--keep order in the city?'
    'Not at all! Hasn't anything to do with the city. Isn't located in the
city, but away to the east in a most desolate strip of desert sand, rocks, and
scratchy vegetation. You will find only about five hundred officers and
men--though the garrison is called a legion. They are there to make the
marauding Bedouins a bit cautious. Armed detachments from the fort go along
with the caravans, so that the brigands will not molest them. Oh,
occasionally'--Manius yawned widely--'not very often, a caravan starts across
and never comes back.'
    'How often?' asked Marcellus, hoping the question would sound as if he
were just making conversation.
    'Well, let's see,' mumbled Manius, squinting one eye shut and counting
on his battered fingers. 'I've heard of only four, this past year.'
    'Only four,' repeated Marcellus, thoughtfully. 'I suppose that on these
occasions the detachment from the fort is captured too.'
    'Of course.'
    'And put into slavery, maybe?'
    'No, not likely. The Bedouins don't need slaves; wouldn't be bothered
with them. Your Bedouin, sir, is a wild man; wild as a fox and sneaking as a
jackal. When he strikes, he slips up on you from the rear and lets you have it
between your shoulder blades.'
    'But--doesn't the garrison avenge these murders?' exclaimed Marcellus.
    Manius shook his head and smiled crookedly.
    'That garrison, sir, does not amount to much, if you'll excuse my saying
so. None of them care. They're poorly disciplined, poorly commanded, and
haven't the slightest interest in the fort. Every now and then they have a
mutiny and somebody gets killed. You can't expect much of a fort that sheds
most of its blood on the drill-ground.'

    That night Marcellus felt he should confide his recent information to
Demetrius. In a quiet voice, as they lay in their adjacent bunks, he gave his
Corinthian a sketch of the conditions in which they were presently to find
themselves, speaking his thoughts as freely as if his slave were jointly
responsible for whatever policy might be pursued.
    Demetrius had listened in silence throughout the dismaying recital, and
when Marcellus had concluded he ventured to remark laconically, 'My master must
command the fort.'
    'Obviously!' responded Marcellus. 'That's what I am commissioned to do!
What else,