Free The Siege by Nick Brown Page A

continued: ‘Though I suppose I should admire your loyalty to the cause of Rome in coming here. There are many in these parts who have long since abandoned such commitment.’
    ‘Yourself included?’
    Strabo shrugged and folded his arms across his chest. ‘A soldier’s enthusiasm for war fades when he sees his fellows lost and his purse empty. We are not all Italian nobility out here.’
    Cassius noticed the legionary examining his tunic. Though now worn and dirty, it was still identifiable as finest linen, one of three given to Cassius by his mother.
    ‘There are Galicians, Cilicians, Thracians. I myself am from Sicily. Most of us here took an oath to Odenathus of Palmyra, you know, just three years past. Rome may not have called him emperor but it was he that kept the Persians at bay.’
    ‘And yet the garrison remains,’ Cassius countered.
    ‘It does while the men await more than a year’s worth of back pay. Even the funeral fund is still with the cohort clerk in Antioch.’
    Strabo stood up and walked past Cassius towards the window. Catching sight of the hole in the top of the helmet, he chuckled heartily.
    ‘And equally impatient for their money are our local friends. As you may have already noticed.’
    Cassius wasn’t sure if the Sicilian had seen the satchel but it reminded him of his strategy. He pushed himself off the desk.
    ‘I’m sure Barates told you I have a little money. More importantly, when the reinforcements arrive, you men will receive full recompense. I have an assurance from General Navio.’
    Cassius felt far less guilty misleading Strabo than Barates. It was a matter of necessity: with no other officers present, the cooperation of the century’s third in command was nothing less than essential.
    Strabo stood silhouetted against the bright window, his features almost invisible.
    ‘To be honest,’ Cassius continued, ‘I don’t believe these men will follow me if I act alone. But with your support they might. Barates tells me you’re the best soldier here, the closest—’
    Strabo chuckled again.
    ‘Barates is an old fool. I know a little of soldiering, yes. But why do you think a man of my age didn’t make it past guard officer? I have been in the army for more than half my life and I know one thing above all others. I have no desire to lead.’
    ‘I am not asking you to lead. I’m asking you to help me lead.’
    Cassius removed the satchel of money from under the helmet and threw it to Strabo.
    He caught it one-handed.
    ‘Here. An incentive. Consider it payment in advance.’
    The Sicilian investigated the contents.
    ‘A substantial sum.’
    ‘Indeed.’
    ‘You must be desperate.’
    ‘Unusual circumstances call for unusual measures.’
    ‘Of course. But we’ve heard nothing for months and then you suddenly show up. I’d wager the Palmyrans are heading in our direction. Perhaps they’ve learned that the food and water remains. No army can fight without that.’
    ‘As I said to Barates, it is possible. Yes.’
    Strabo moved closer to Cassius. The glare from the window still shrouded his features and Cassius narrowed his eyes, trying to read the Sicilian’s expression as he spoke.
    ‘You do realise that I could run you and your fat friend through right now, take all your money and one of those fine horses you rode in on and disappear. Just like that.’ Strabo snapped his fingers.
    Cassius was surprised by his words but sensed that they were meant as a test, not a genuine threat.
    Simo came in from the bedroom. Strabo ignored him.
    ‘I do,’ said Cassius, trying not to swallow nervously, ‘but I don’t believe you will.’
    Strabo moved forward again, his frame blocking out the light.
    Cassius met his stare as it slowly softened into a playful grin.
    ‘You’re not as young in the head as you are in the face, centurion. I’ll give you that.’
    Strabo headed for the door, then stopped mid-stride.
    ‘On second thoughts, it might be better if this stays with you