respect.
'Here they come,' said Maximus.
Ballista saw the small party leaving the gate from the island. They had expected Ballista would see them there, in the old royal palace. Now they had to toil across town up to the theatre. But as far as Ballista was concerned, if they were put out, it was no bad thing.
As he waited, Ballista regarded his fleet, moored in the main harbour. They were all there except the seven little war galleys, which were shuttling back and forth monitoring the enemy force at Zephyrion. The quays were crowded: twenty-five transport vessels, ten big triremes and the other three little liburnians not at sea. The sword of Damocles may have been hanging by a thread over the heads of the citizens of Sebaste, but those who ran the bars, brothels and baths down by the port had never had a more profitable time, with a fleet and four and a half thousand soldiers to service.
Ragonius Clarus entered the theatre. He was followed by a big man in a toga. He in turn was followed by two tall men wearing what looked like goatskin cloaks. It was a mild summer day, but their choice of clothing was strange. In single file, they began to climb the stairs.
Ballista sat down on the top row of seats. The man in the toga must be Trebellianus. He was a powerful- looking individual in middle age, broad-shouldered, with a shock of black hair; restrainedly good-looking. The two trailing him were younger. They had the same black hair but looked thinner and hungrier. Both wore swords at their hip.
As they reached the top, Ragonius Clarus stepped aside. The other three passed him and halted. They said nothing. None of them was blowing after the steep climb. Together, they exuded menace. Ballista felt Demetrius, standing to his left, shrink back. Maximus, on his right, drew himself up to his full, not over-tall height. Calgacus and Castricius remained lounging a little way off. Ballista wondered what impression he and his followers must convey.
Unexpectedly, the northerner found himself thinking how many men these three Cilicians had killed. Come to that — how many men had he himself killed? And then there were those killed by Maximus, Calgacus and Castricius. That must make a legion of souls, flitting and shrieking across the dark meadows of Hades.
'Gaius Terentius Trebellianus?' Ballista pronounced it as a question.
'Yes.' He had a soft, pleasant speaking voice.
'You have brought bodyguards.'
'Not at all.' Trebellianus's smile went nowhere near his eyes. 'These are my young friends Palfuerius and Lydius.'
'It is illegal for a civilian to carry arms in the imperium.'
'Not if the weapons are necessary for a man's profession, are inherited, or are carried for self-defence.' Trebellianus's smooth cheeks had the sheen of good living.
Ballista nodded. It was so. The Arch-pirate knew the law.
'I am told you have influence with the people of Cilicia Tracheia.'
'Some of my fellow citizens are kind enough to come to me for advice.'
One of the young men smirked. Ballista ignored him. 'On what subjects do you advise them?'
Trebellianus gestured to the mountains. 'Our country is a poor one. What little livelihood we have comes from the humble goat. In summer he must go to the high pastures. In winter he comes down to the coastal lowlands. Moving many animals and men up and down, across other people's land, through different communities, always involves difficulties. I make these difficulties go away. I help my friends.'
And what do you do to those who are not your friends, wondered Ballista. 'And your friends, what do they do for you?'
A smooth smile crossed Trebellianus's face. 'They are good enough to show me honour.'
'What town is your patria?'
'My family estates are up country around Germanicopolis. I have been fortunate enough to acquire others on the coast at Korakesion and Charadna.'
So, Ballista thought, your lands lie at either end of the trail, and your armed toughs escort the herds up and down. Your 'influence' rests on violence and intimidation. He remembered his friend Iarhai at the desert city of Arete. Trebellianus was a small-scale version of that caravan protector. A strong man provides 'protection', and those he protects give him 'gifts'. And just as Iarhai had rivals at Arete, so would Trebellianus here in Cilicia Tracheia. The gods knew what misfortunes would be heading their way now that Macrianus the Lame had decided that this Arch-pirate was to become a senior official with the weight of the imperium behind him.
Ballista held out his hand and Demetrius placed an ivory and gold codicil in it. Standing, Ballista passed the imperial codicil to the Cilician. 'Gaius Terentius Trebellianus, you are hereby appointed acting governor of the province of Cilicia.'
'We will do what is ordered, and at every command we will be ready.' The answer came back blandly.
'Your first task, in the face of which nothing else matters, must be to block the coast road to the west. I take it you can call on armed men?'
Trebellianus did not speak, but inclined his head.
Ballista went on, 'I have collected what detached troops were to be found in the ports between Aegeae and here. These stationarii only amount to just over three hundred, but they are at your command. The eirenarch I have left in each town, along with his armed men of the watch. These officers and their diogmitai are locals. They should fight to defend their homes, but may well desert if we attempt to move them somewhere else. Where do you propose to close the road to the Persians?'
'Korakesion.' The answer came without hesitation.
'A long way to the west.'
'Indeed, and it will leave my own estates at Charadna at the mercy of the Sassanids. But, at Korakesion, the mountains come down to the sea, and the town itself is fortified by nature as well as by man.'
Ballista was more than suspicious that some private motive was behind the choice. Korakesion was at the western extremity of the province. Perhaps Trebellianus was sacrificing some of his own estates in the knowledge that his rivals would suffer worse. But there was nothing to be done. The Cilician knew the country. Macrianus the Lame wanted him as governor.
'So be it,' Ballista said, as if he had the power to decide. 'I am going to base the fleet and army on Cyprus, at the port of Kyreneia. The liburnians will keep me in communication. You will submit written reports of all your actions.'
Again Trebellianus wordlessly inclined his head.
'I am afraid I cannot spare you any transport ships. You will have to march the stationarii from here.'
Trebellianus smiled his smooth smile. 'Forewarned by Ragonius Clarus, I took the liberty of requisitioning some merchant ships at Corycus. We can sail from there.'
Ballista kept his face expressionless. 'So be it. I will not detain you further.'
Trebellianus sketched a salute. He and his young followers, both of them smirking now, turned and set off down the steps.
Took the liberty… requisitioning ships. Ballista was fuming. Come what may, the owners would never see them again.
Ragonius Clarus was mouthing some platitudes. Ballista was too angry to pretend to listen. How much suffering would he spare this province if he just killed Trebellianus now? A word to Maximus and Castricius. He could do it with his own hand. And those two evil-eyed goatboys. Nothing here could stop him. The troops would not care. They would follow Ballista, not Ragonius Clarus. Nothing to stop him — except what would happen to Julia and the boys at the hands of Macrianus and his repulsive sons in Antioch?
Ballista drew a big breath and calmed himself. What were these Cilicians to him anyway? And if he killed Trebellianus, it would only leave a space for his equally murderous rivals to fight over. Fuck them all.
Mind you, The Allfather willing, one day it would be good to send Trebellianus to meet Charon. And that sniggering pair of young strong-arm boys. Palfuerius and Lydius. Which was which? Fuck it, they could cross the Styx together. Julia sat in the seating reserved for respectable matrons. It was pleasant in the great theatre of Antioch, with the afternoon breeze blowing up the Orontes valley. She felt more relaxed than she had for a long time. Macrianus the Lame and Quietus had taken the army south to Emesa in an attempt to overawe Odenathus of Palmyra and secure his allegiance. Since the arrival at Antioch of the new imperial court, Julia had largely kept to
