The Forgotten Legion

  'Alexander was one of the most charismatic leaders ever seen,' said the Etruscan.

  Romulus jumped. 'Crassus didn't try to inspire us at all, did he?'

  'The fool did not,' he replied. 'So the bad omens affected the men badly. If they had loved their leader as Alexander's did, they might have overcome their fear.'

  The words came to Romulus out of nowhere. 'Lead by example. As you do, treating the sick and injured.'

  Tarquinius' lips twitched and he squinted into the clear blue sky. 'And the omens for the rest of the journey are good. All the way to Margiana and Scythia.'

  Despite the intense heat, Brennus did not dare to ask if those places were where he would save his friends. He did not want to know exactly when the slate had to be wiped clean. Brennus shoved away the thought and kept marching.

  Romulus watched from the corner of his eye. It was obvious that Brennus never talked about their destination and he was convinced Tarquinius knew something about the Gaul's fate that he was keeping quiet. But living in such close proximity with hundreds of men rarely afforded an occasion to speak in private. Even when one did arise, Romulus was not sure he wanted to ask either friend. It felt sufficiently strange that the Etruscan knew so much. Romulus had known Tarquinius for two years, but was only now getting used to his extraordinary abilities. He was forever using sky, birds and wind as ways to accurately reveal past and future events. Every so often Tarquinius would explain what he was doing and Romulus could now predict simple things such as the next rain shower. It was fascinating knowledge and he concentrated hard every time the haruspex revealed anything new. But Tarquinius kept many things to himself still. 'Much of what I know is sacred,' he would say regretfully. 'And should only be revealed to a trained soothsayer.'

  Romulus was mostly content with this. Life was simpler not knowing everything that would happen. It was enough to be told that he would survive the Parthian army. This left room in his heart for the dream of returning to Rome.

  Finding his family.

  During the long march, Romulus has gone through periods of blaming his mother for her awful predicament. She could have killed Gemellus any time he was in her bed. But she had not. Why? Anger filled him when he thought of how easily the fat merchant could have been silenced for ever. But eventually her reasoning became clear. She was not a trained fighter like him. Velvinna had been a mother with two young children; she had done everything in her power to protect them. She had let Gemellus rape her over and over again for the sake of the twins' safety. This bitter realisation had filled Romulus with shame and self-disgust. How could he not have appreciated his mother's sacrifice before? It made him even more determined to kill Gemellus. But it was hard not to lose hope. Unlike Brennus, he still struggled to believe some of Tarquinius' more incredible predictions. From all practical points of view, going home now seemed impossible.

  'Margiana?' said Felix. 'Never heard of it.'

  'Trust me,' Tarquinius replied archly. 'It exists.'

  'What is it like?'

  'Green landscape. Wide rivers and fertile land.'

  Felix gestured at the desert. 'Anything'd be better than this hell.'

  Romulus laughed. As well as being one of the few survivors of Bassius' cohort, Felix was good company.

  'So who lives there?' said Brennus.

  'Descendants of the Greeks, meaning they are civilised people. And nomads. Men with yellow skin, black hair and slanted eyes.'

  'Sound like demons,' muttered Felix.

  'They bleed like anyone else.'

  'How do they fight?' Brennus was ever the pragmatist. He would always be a warrior.

  'With bows. From horseback.'

  There was a collective groan.

  'And not friendly with Parthia either?'

  Tarquinius shook his head.

  'Marched to the far side of the world to be massacred,' said Felix sarcastically. 'Again.'

  'Not if I have anything to do with it,' Tarquinius replied. 'We need to cover each shield with silk.'

  'What? The material the Parthians make their banners from?' asked the Gaul. The huge, brightly coloured flags had helped to terrify Crassus' soldiers before Carrhae.

  'The same. It will stop those.' The Etruscan pointed at the shafts in Brennus' quiver.

  The spirits of those within earshot lifted at the prospect of surviving the arrow storms that had slaughtered their comrades at Carrhae.

  Romulus had occasionally seen noble ladies at the arena dressed in softly shining robes. 'Costs a fortune, doesn't it?' he said.

  'Not if we liberate a caravan load of the stuff.'

  Brennus and Romulus were now openly curious.

  'In twelve days we will cross paths with Judaean traders returning from India,' remarked Tarquinius.

  Parthia was virtually empty, populated only by small nomadic tribes, and since leaving Seleucia there had been few others crossing the wilderness. But by now no one reacted to the Etruscan's second sight. If Tarquinius said something was going to happen, it would.

  'That is a long journey,' said Romulus with surprise. He knew from the ancient map that India was even further than Margiana. To discover that men would make the trip by choice was a surprise. 'It must be worth while.'

  Tarquinius smiled enigmatically.

  Brennus began to grow impatient and the Etruscan relented.

  'They will be carrying spices mostly. And a lot of silk.'

  'For us to cover our scuta,' said Brennus thoughtfully. 'Pacorus might need some convincing. And Orodes won't be too pleased if his captains start stealing from traders.'

  Tarquinius looked shocked. 'Who said we would rob anyone?'

  Brennus snorted. 'How else can you part Judaeans from their goods?'

  'I will buy the fabric.'

  'Need more than the gold head on that,' replied the Gaul, nodding at the lituus dangling from Tarquinius' belt.

  Since Pacorus had realised the Etruscan's worth, Tarquinius had stopped hiding his symbol of power. Remembering stories of haruspices from childhood, other soldiers regarded the staff with awe and it gave their cohort a special place in the Forgotten Legion.

  Even Romulus felt dubious. Silk was the most precious of commodities. Only small amounts reached the markets in Rome, transported distances that few could even imagine. The amount required to cover over nine thousand shields would cost a fortune.

  'So how will you buy it?' the Gaul asked.

  Tarquinius would not answer. 'I need to talk to Pacorus,' he announced.

  Brennus rolled his eyes.

  'He won't tell us,' said Romulus. 'You should know that by now.'

  The Gaul laughed.

  Well used to Tarquinius' secretive nature, Romulus did not ask either. They had survived Carrhae, marched east for over a thousand miles with few mishaps. Despite an apparent lack of funds, he felt reassured by the prediction. The wise haruspex would win over Pacorus and get them the silk to give them a way of fighting new enemies. Getting back to Rome might seem impossible, but this did not. He strode forward confidently, the hot sand crunching beneath the soles of his sandals.

  Tarquinius was as good as his word. That night, he left the others huddled by a tiny fire, eating bread and dried goat meat. Once the legionaries had sworn allegiance to Parthia, their captors had begun to treat them better and they were now fed a reasonable amount every day. There was no point starving men who would be expected to fight for the empire.

  Making his way quietly through the darkness, the Etruscan observed the resting soldiers. Although they were captives, there was still good discipline, a sense of order. The cloth tents had been placed in neat lines, century by century. Even temporary ramparts had been thrown up, with pairs of sentries marching vigilantly round the perimeter. It looked like a typical army camp, except that this was further from Rome than any legionary had ever ventured.

  Since the prisoners had realised they were not to be killed out of hand, their spirits had been rising. They would fight well, especia
lly 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.