Free Throne of the Caesars 01 - Iron and Rust by Harry Sidebottom

He would need a camel. It would take days.’
    ‘How many?’
    ‘Hard to say, but everything here will be long finished before he gets to the Mirror Fort.’ Mauricius shrugged. ‘I will send a couple of my men. Maybe—’
    ‘I would not bother.’ Sabinianus was shading his eyes with his hat. His bald forehead shone with sweat. He started laughing.
    Gordian wondered about the effects of the ride, the desert.
    ‘Time for a nap, after all.’ Sabinianus said. ‘Unless I am much mistaken, here comes Arrian, and my little white-bottomed friend has brought the famous tough Frontier Wolves.’
    Gordian held his war council in the room at the foot of the tower. It was the largest in the citadel. It had a high ceiling and, with the shutters closed and boys wielding fans, it was cool. There were six of them: Gordian himself, Valerian, the reunited Sabinianus and Arrian, Mauricius, and another local, Aemilius Severinus, the commander of the speculatores . They drank fermented palm wine and ate pistachios. From outside came the smell of chicken on a grill. Perhaps, Gordian thought, the nomads had not been entirely wrong: peasants always have something hidden.
    ‘Yes,’ Arrian said, ‘I could have got here quicker. But the scouts were dispersed all along the wall. Aemilius Severinus here agreed that it would be best to gather as many as possible. There are four hundred camped in the oasis.’
    ‘No one is criticizing you,’ Gordian said.
    Sabinianus snorted.
    ‘No one apart from your twin, the other of the Cercopes.’ Gordian smiled.
    ‘The day I give a fuck about his views, I will—’
    ‘Sell your arse at the crossroads,’ Sabinianus said.
    ‘Possibly, although I was thinking of something else.’
    ‘If we could postpone the discussion of your descent into male prostitution,’ Gordian said, ‘it might be useful if you gave us some estimate of how many bloodthirsty savages were chasing you, and how soon they might be here.’
    Arrian scratched his short, stubbly beard. He pulled the end of his upturned nose.
    ‘Hercules’ hairy black arse; it is as if he is auditioning to be in a comedy without a mask. What would a physiognomist read in his soul?’
    Gordian gestured amiably for Sabinianus to be quiet. ‘If it helps him think.’
    Arrian looked up, hands and face still. ‘I saw about two thousand, all mounted. But there was a lot of dust to the north of them. Although the majority of that would have been raised by baggage animals and captives.’
    ‘How long?’
    Arrian spread his hands in a sign of hopelessness. ‘At first, the two thousand chased us hard. They gave up when they realized they would not catch us.’
    ‘Where was that?’
    Arrian gestured to Aemilius Severinus.
    ‘Ten miles south of Thiges, fifteen north of here.’ The officer answered immediately and with confidence. Although most appointments were decided by patronage, probably the commander of the Frontier Wolves would not last long without certain qualities.
    ‘The afternoon wears on; most likely we can expect them at some point tomorrow.’
    No one contradicted Gordian’s estimate.
    ‘How shall we greet them?’
    Silence, until Gordian carried on. ‘I was thinking of a barrier – palm trunks, thorn bushes, whatever – across the neck of land.’
    ‘But it is near two miles across, and we are too few, with too little time,’ Sabinianus said.
    ‘A mounted charge, in a wedge,’ Valerian said. ‘No irregular troops will stand up to it, let alone a horde of nomads from the desert.’
    ‘True,’ Aemilius Severinus said. ‘But they would not need to. With their numbers, they would give way, flow all around us. Quite likely we could charge clean through them. But what good would it do? We would be charging at nothing, and all the time their arrows and javelins would be whittling down our numbers. Getting back might prove difficult, and if we ended up out there surrounded, on spent horses—’
    ‘What do these nomads value above