“They’ll wait till full dark to try and move again,” Bat said.
“But we won’t be here,” Jimbo said, standing. “Let’s get a few miles between us and set up again. We give them a false sense of security, let them think the dark is hiding them, then nail a few more.”
They trotted to where they left their horses in the shade of an outcropping, slid the rifles home in their scabbards, and mounted up.
“Giddyup,” Jimbo said with a broad smile. They led the mounts with knees and reins to roughly follow the road snaking between the hummocks of rocky land.
“You’re enjoying yourself,” Bat said.
“Oh, hell, yeah,” Jimbo said. “Like playing cowboys and Indians back on the rez.”
“Who played the cowboys?”
“I was always on the cowboy side.” Jimbo laughed. “Clint Eastwood is my main man.”
“So, you really would be conflicted at Custer’s Last Stand.” Bat laughed.
“You think that’s weird?” he said.
“Not as weird as this little princess riding out to make Christianity possible,” she said.
They trotted into a dry wash and spurred the horses to a gallop toward their next hide.
“Clusterfuck,” Lee Hammond said under his breath. “Mother of all clusterfucks.”
He and Chaz Raleigh lay prone in a copse of junipers watching the construction of a watchtower and ring wall a thousand yards away. It was only the hour following full dawn, and already nearly-naked guys were stacking precut stones atop slathers of mortar mixed by others in a pit and passed forward in a bucket chain. Another crew was working on scaffolds to apply more mortar to seal the gaps. Still more were hauling stone forward on two-wheeled carts drawn by oxen.
They worked at a steady pace, and the ring wall was the height of two men already. The stout tower was growing as they watched. There was an encampment of nearly fifty tents laid out in neat rows within an earthwork constructed about the construction site. A deep ditch filled with sharpened stakes ran around the floor of the earth wall.
The fort sat at the foot of a steep slope that rose to a rocky summit. The summit was a kind of headland in a range of escarpments that stretched east. By the fort was a feeder road that led off the main highway and went into a gap in the escarpment toward something the Rangers could not see from their angle. Whatever was back there was the source for the building blocks the Romans were using to build the walls and tower. It had to be the quarry the Arab caravan driver had told them about.
“They’re like goddamn beavers,” Chaz said. He moved his binoculars to take in a knot of tile rooftops surrounded by a curtain wall a few hundred yards from where the fort was going up. It was a village they had no name for. It sat along the north/south road. It appeared to be the source of water for the fort.
All day long, camels led by boys made their way from the village carrying barrels of water that were drained into a stone-lined reservoir dug within the earthen wall. This water was used for mixing the mortar and for the legionnaires to use for drinking and bathing. Other villagers followed the camels hauling carts loaded with goods for sale to the Romans. Chaz couldn’t see what they were selling. Considering the orchards stretching south from the village, probably dates.
“See their banner?” Lee said. “They have it set up in front of the largest tent.”
Chaz swung his gaze back to the Roman camp. The sun gleamed off the polished brass aquilifer stuck in the ground before a bell-style tent. The figure of the trotting horse was visible atop it.
“That’s our unit. The Twenty-third,” Chaz said.
“I don’t see any slaves,” Lee said.
“They’re all wearing those sandals with socks like a bunch of German tourists in Miami. It’s all soldiers building that place.”
“They only want to use trained labor. These guys are engineer soldiers,” Chaz said.
“Remember what Dwayne told us about the guys rowing the galley he was on. All free men with mad rowing skills.”
“Still seems like they could use a carpenter, right?” Chaz laughed.
“Surprised you find that funny,” Lee said, lowering his binoculars and eyeing his friend.
“It’s funny. Nothing sacrilegious there, you atheist motherfucker.” Chaz grinned. “The man was a carpenter.”
“All the shit we’ve seen, and you still believe?”
“More than ever, bro.”
“I respect that. I really do,” Lee said and rose to his feet. Chaz followed him back through the trees to a clearing where Boats waited with the mounts and pack animals. The SEAL was on watch, and looking the part in his body armor and kilt with his crazy ginger whiskers and long hair completing the picture. The only conflicting image was the stainless steel Mossberg Mariner in his fists. The pump shotgun was not standard issue for gladiators.
“Did you see Jesus?” Boats asked in all seriousness.
“Wouldn’t know him if I saw him.” Chaz shrugged.
“Man, I didn’t think of that.” Boats scratched his chin through the beard. “What do you think he looks like?”
“He won’t have a halo over his head,” Chaz said and took a seat on a rock. “He’ll look like any other Jewish teenager, I guess. You could pass him at the mall and not notice him.”
“Anyone interested in the plan?” Lee said. “We rest while we wait on Bat and Jimbo, then recon that quarry.”
“You jealous, Hammond?” Boats grinned.
“Of what?”
“The Indian and your girl sharing a kill together.”
“You have one fucked up idea about romance, Boats.” Lee
