The Forgotten Legion - Kane Ben (читать книги онлайн полностью без сокращений txt) 📗

Since the prisoners had realised they were not to be killed out of hand, their spirits had been rising. They would fight well, especially when Tarquinius revealed a new protection against the tribes' lethal arrows.

'Halt!' Burly warriors levelled spears at the Etruscan. Pacorus kept Parthians stationed around his tent at night. 'Who goes there?'

'The haruspex.'

Fear filled their eyes. 'What do you want?' one asked.

'A word with Pacorus.'

They conferred with each other for a moment.

'Wait here,' the first guard said curtly. Leaving his companions to watch Tarquinius, he entered the large tent a few steps away. The Parthian was not gone long. Lifting the cloth flap, he jerked his head.

Tarquinius approached, ducking a little to enter. The warrior lingered at the opening, clutching his weapon nervously.

In stark contrast to the Romans' accommodation, the interior of Pacorus' tent was richly decorated. Thick wool carpets covered the floor and a brazier smoked in one corner, providing warmth against the night air. Oil-soaked torches burned in deep plates, casting long shadows. Reclining cushions lay scattered about, but weapons stacked on a wooden stand were a reminder of the journey's real purpose. Slaves were cooking on a fire, and standing by with platters of food and drink. The tempting smell of roasting meat filled the tent.

The Etruscan's mouth watered. It had been a long time since he had tasted fresh lamb. Memories of Olenus at the cave flooded back and Tarquinius offered up a prayer of thanks for the wisdom the old man had imparted. Because of his abilities, the haruspex knew what was about to happen.

Pacorus was seated cross-legged by the brazier. Waving a half-gnawed bone, he gestured at Tarquinius to sit. The Parthian did not seem at all surprised to see him. 'Share my food,' he said, nodding brusquely at the nearest servant.

Beard greasy with fat, Pacorus' eyes danced with interest. He had shed his normal loose jerkin for an expensive robe and baggy white cotton trousers. Soft leather slippers with pointed toes poked from under his muscled legs. The gold belt circling his waist was delicate, yet a pair of curved daggers hung from it. First and foremost, Pacorus was a warrior.

Tarquinius sat down, taking the offered meat and a wooden beaker which contained some good wine. There was silence as he ate and drank. When the Etruscan looked up, Pacorus was eyeing him closely.

'How are my new troops?' said the Parthian. 'Ready to obey their master?'

'They have little choice.'

Pacorus leaned forward. 'Tell me. Will the legionaries fight for me? Or will they run, as at Carrhae?'

'I can only answer for my cohort.' Tarquinius spoke confidently. After Pacorus had granted his request to re-arm the legionaries of his unit, their spirits had risen immeasurably. All it had taken to convince the Parthian was an accurate prediction of which mountain passes were blocked with snow. This valuable information had probably saved lives and certainly shaved several days off their journey. 'They will fight to the last man rather than suffer defeat again.'

Pacorus sat back, looking satisfied. In the manner of enemies who are being polite, the pair spent a short time discussing the journey and border areas. Tarquinius quickly learned that the entire eastern region was full of unrest and that the Forgotten Legion would have its work cut out restoring peace.

'Why have you come?' Pacorus finally asked.

The Etruscan did not prevaricate. 'I have a proposition for you.'

Pacorus lifted a hand and a bowl of warm water carried by a slave instantly appeared. Cleaning his fingers and face, he smiled. 'The prisoner has a proposition for the captor.'

Tarquinius inclined his head.

Annoyed at the lack of deference, the Parthian's manner became less friendly. 'So?'

'Soon a caravan of Judaeans will cross our path.'

'They will be returning from India.' Pacorus picked an orange from a silver tray and began peeling it. 'What has this to do with us?'

'A large part of their cargo will be silk.'

'It usually is.'

Tarquinius changed tack. 'What is the Forgotten Legion's main duty?'

He smiled at the name. 'To defend the empire from hostile tribes. Bactrians, Sogdians and Scythians.'

'Whose warriors use composite bows like the Parthians.'

Pacorus was becoming visibly irritated with Tarquinius' vague manner.

'Your arrows butchered our men at Carrhae. And so will those of the nomads if we do not have a plan,' Tarquinius said.

'Go on,' said the commander icily.

'Orodes will not be pleased if his new border garrison is wiped out shortly after its arrival. That would allow fresh raids into Parthia.'

Pacorus ate a segment of orange, chewing thoughtfully. 'What do you propose?'

'Silk is very strong.'

The Parthian was confused.

'Wrap layers of it over the men's shields,' continued Tarquinius smoothly, 'and no shaft will penetrate.'

'How can you be sure?' Pacorus asked.

'I know many things.'

Pacorus could see where this was going. 'Merchants are taxed as they enter both Antiochia and Seleucia,' he said. 'And the king does not tolerate the robbing of honest travellers.' Most of Parthia's wealth was derived from the tolls imposed on those returning from the east.

'We will not steal from anyone,' replied Tarquinius.

'How will we pay for it then?' snapped the Parthian.

Tarquinius reached into his tunic and produced the leather pouch. Undoing the drawstring, he dropped an enormous ruby into one palm. It had been worn next to his heart ever since he had removed it from the hilt of Tarquin's sword. After seventeen years, the time had finally come to use Olenus' priceless gift. 'This will buy all the silk we need.'

Pacorus pursed his lips. 'I see the lituus is not all you managed to retain.'

Tarquinius said nothing.

The Parthian eyed the gemstone greedily and his right hand moved towards one of his daggers. 'I can take that very easily.'

'But you won't.'

'You are alone and unarmed.' He glanced at his guard. 'There are ten more of my men outside.'

'I would curse you for ever.' Tarquinius' dark eyes glinted in the torchlight as he tucked away the little bag. 'And my cohort might not be too happy either.'

Pacorus swallowed. The blond-haired soldier had helped the column pass safely through the mountains. He could predict landslides days in advance and storms before they appeared in the sky. It was rumoured that he'd even predicted his own side's defeat at Carrhae.

Smiling, the Etruscan walked over to the silk partition that separated the tent into sections. 'May I demonstrate?'

Pacorus nodded.

Tarquinius took down the piece of coloured fabric and wrapped it several times around a square cushion. He paced fifty steps to the end of the long tent, the killing distance that had cut the legions to pieces. Placing it on the floor, he walked back, picking up a deeply curved horn bow and quiver from the wooden stand.

The warrior by the entrance instantly lunged forward, spear at the ready.

Pacorus barked an order and he moved back.

Reaching his host, the haruspex studied the weapon carefully. 'This is very well made,' he commented, testing its draw. 'Powerful too.'

'A good bow takes weeks to build,' said Pacorus. 'The horn and sinew must be just the right thickness and the wood well seasoned.'

Turning towards the target, Tarquinius pulled out an arrow and fitted it to the string. Raising his arms, he paused, half turning.

The Parthian sucked in a breath.

Tarquinius swung away, content the point had been made. He drew back to full stretch, closing one eye and aiming carefully in the dim light. With a grunt, he released. The shaft hissed through the air, landing with a thump.