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

Hours passed and the temporary earthworks went up as they had so many times before. Tents were pitched and the tired soldiers threw themselves inside, desperate for shade. A few drops of water washed dust from dry throats. It had been a hard lesson, but everyone knew how to conserve liquid as if it was gold. Every man in the Forgotten Legion now knew Tarquinius' trick of sucking on pebbles.

Pacorus waited until early evening before inviting the Judaean to his spacious pavilion. The baking heat had begun to subside as the sun fell in the sky and a faint breeze sprang up. The commander supplemented his Parthian guards with the ten legionaries, while a further century waited nearby, a show of force designed to intimidate.

The two groups of sentries stared at each other with thinly veiled suspicion. Until they had fought against a common enemy, little would change. Too much blood had been shed on both sides.

Soon afterwards Tarquinius was ordered inside while Brennus and Romulus stood close to the tent wall, trying to hear what might be said. To his frustration, Pacorus and the haruspex talked in muted voices.

'How is he going to do it?' muttered Felix.

Romulus had also been racking his brains to work it out.

'Trust him.' Since Seleucia, nothing could shake Brennus' convictions.

The short Gaul grumbled and fell silent while Romulus craned his head, still trying to hear snippets of the conversation.

They waited for some time, swatting at flies and glaring at the nearby Parthians.

'Here he is!'

The merchant was approaching, followed by three companions, while a solitary guard took up the rear. Reaching the entrance, Isaac spoke briefly with the Parthian sentries before entering with his party.

Pacorus bowed graciously as the Judaean came inside. 'Parthia welcomes honest traders.'

'My thanks, Excellency.' Isaac responded more slowly. He was here under duress, but had to keep up the pretence.

Servants moved forward, offering wine, fruits and meat. The old man drained two cups without pause, then polished off a small plate of food. Chewing on a piece of lamb, he peered at Tarquinius curiously.

The Etruscan pointedly ignored him.

'How long has your journey taken?' Pacorus asked when it seemed his guest had eaten plenty.

'In total?' The Judaean cackled. 'Two years so far, Excellency. India. Scythia. Margiana.'

'Your camels are heavily laden.'

'It has been a good trip,' admitted Isaac grudgingly. 'And it might make a small profit. If I return safe to Damascus.'

'What are you carrying?' Tarquinius spoke for the first time.

The merchant frowned at the question. Unsure of the blond soldier's status, Isaac raised an eyebrow at Pacorus, who nodded.

'Myrrh, olibanum and silk. Some ivory and indigo.' These goods commanded huge prices in Rome, but Isaac made them sound utterly worthless.

'Anything else?'

Isaac's face took on a hunted look.

'Well?' Pacorus' voice was less friendly now. 'All goods must be declared to royal officials.'

'Some gemstones, Excellency,' he said reluctantly. 'Lapis, agate. A few diamonds.'

'Do you know much about jewels?' shot Tarquinius.

The Judaean's eyes flickered. 'I have some knowledge.'

'How much indigo?'

'Three modii.' Isaac's lips pursed at the interrogation and he turned to Pacorus for support. 'All taxes due were paid in full, Excellency. At Antiochia.'

The Parthian smiled.

'One modius would be enough purple dye for a thousand togas!' Tarquinius blew out his cheeks. 'Make you a wealthy man.'

'First the dyers in Tyre must be paid,' protested Isaac. 'They will rob me blind!'

'That will still leave a tidy amount, old man,' said Pacorus dryly.

'I risk my life crossing half the world, Excellency,' Isaac muttered. 'Can I not make a little money?'

'Of course,' Tarquinius laughed, raising both hands placatingly. 'What quantity of silk have you got?'

Sensing interest, there was an instant change in the merchant's demeanour. 'Over a hundred bales of the very best fabric,' he said slyly. 'Want to see?'

The Etruscan glanced at Pacorus, to indicate that the officer was in apparent command.

'Show us.'

Isaac spoke eagerly to his compatriots. Hurrying from the tent, the men quickly returned with two large cloth-wrapped bundles. Walking towards them, the Judaeans expertly unrolled the bales. Clouds of dust rose as the heavy covering came away, but the cream silk within was still clean. Even the tent's dim light could not dampen the glistening sheen from the fabric.

'Worth its weight in gold,' whispered Tarquinius, moving closer. He felt the sheet with a finger and thumb. 'Is it all the same thickness?'

Isaac began to extol the qualities of his merchandise.

Tarquinius dropped the pretence. 'We want the lot.'

The Judaean was shocked. 'All of it?'

He nodded.

'That silk is worth a fortune,' Isaac protested before bowing towards Pacorus. 'And I doubt very much if it is in your . . . price range.'

Tarquinius reached into his tunic. 'Look at this,' he said, opening the leather pouch.

Warily Isaac extended a grimy hand.

The ruby dropped into his outstretched palm.

'That should pay for everything,' said the Etruscan.

For a moment the Judaean was speechless. It was larger than a hen's egg.

Tarquinius chuckled knowingly.

'I'm not sure this is top quality,' Isaac raised the gem to the light, one eye closed. 'I can see some imperfections.'

'It is worth a king's ransom,' snapped Tarquinius. 'And you know it.'

'Take the ruby,' Pacorus' voice was cold. 'The silk is ours.'

'And the myrrh,' added Tarquinius.

Isaac knew when to take a bargain. 'Of course, Excellency,' he fawned. The stone had already disappeared into his robe. 'They are yours. The goods only need to be carried here from my camp.'

He turned to go.

'Stay,' said Tarquinius. There was no mistaking his tone. 'Until we have seen all the silk.'

The old trader stopped dead. 'Indeed, indeed.' He spat an order at his men, who scurried from the tent.

Tarquinius turned to Pacorus. 'It is strong and thick. And these bales should cover five thousand shields.'

'That's only half of them.'

'It will be more than enough.' The Etruscan stared at the commander, dark eyes piercing. 'I have already seen a mighty victory over the Sogdians.'

'They say you predicted the Roman defeat before Carrhae.'

'Weeks before.'

Pacorus smiled.

Chapter XXX: Margiana

Margiana, autumn 53 BC

Spanning fifteen hundred miles, the journey from Seleucia had taken in all terrains and weather types. It had been an extraordinary experience for the legionaries, Crassus' campaign having provided little skill at survival in such environments. Encouraged by Tarquinius, surviving optiones and harsh Parthian discipline, the prisoners had toughened up beyond measure. Three months later, fitter than ever before, muscled, tanned dark brown, the men were recognisable only by their tattered uniforms. New cloth standards had been fashioned for each century and five thousand scuta covered with silk. Tarquinius had been busy each night, supervising the soldiers as they stitched multiple layers in place. Helmets and spear tips flashed in the sunlight; neat ranks marched in step for twenty miles every day. The trumpeters were still being used, but Pacorus had also trained the men to recognise new commands from the drums.

The Forgotten Legion was now an intimidating sight, but there had been no action on the long march. As the soldiers had soon discovered, few people lived in the vast emptiness of central Parthia. No one had complained. The memory of Carrhae was still raw.