'You are the man!'
A group of some twenty peasants had appeared from nowhere. They formed a chattering circle around the body of the lion.
'They may well want to worship you,' Maximus called over. He was still beaming. 'Your lion has been terrorizing their village.' He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. 'We've come all the way to the villages in the hills to the north-west of the city.'
Maximus having been set the tasks of seeing to the skinning of the lion and the transportation of the pelt into town, Ballista walked over to Demetrius, who was now standing with Pale Horse.
'What is wrong?' Ballista looked up from inspecting the gelding's feet.
'Possibly it may be unwise to make too much of killing the lion.' The boy looked unhappy. 'Back in the reign of the emperor Commodus, one of the ruling family of Emesa, one Julius Alexander, brought down a lion with his javelin from horseback. The emperor sent frumentarii to kill him.'
'Commodus was mad. Valerian and Gallienus are not.' He squeezed the boy's shoulder. 'You worry too much. It will be fine. And if I tried to keep it quiet and news got out, it might look suspicious.' Ballista turned away, then stopped. 'What happened to the man?'
'He had to flee to the Euphrates, to the enemy.'
Demetrius did not add that Julius Alexander had fled with a young favourite. The boy could not keep up. The man had dismounted, cut the boy's throat, then plunged the sword into his own stomach.
Four days had passed since he had killed the lion. It seemed to Ballista that every waking moment of those days had been devoted to meetings. The cast had varied – sometimes a small group, just his familia;at others more, when he had summoned his consilium. Once, he had asked the three caravan protectors larhai, Anamu and Ogelos to attend. The scene and the props had remained constant: a large plan of Arete spread out on the dining-room table in the palace of the Dux Ripae; the current general registers of Legio IIII and Cohors XX, both now accurate, propped open near by; writing blocks, styluses and sheets of papyri everywhere. Out of the endless talk and calculations, Ballista had formed his plan for the defence of Arete. Now it was time to tell it to the boule, the council, of the city – or at least as much of it as they needed to know.
It was the kalends of December, the first of the month. Ballista waited in the quiet of the courtyard of the temple of Artemis. It struck him again where power lay in this town. In any city where democracy was more than a word the bouleuterion faced on to the agora, where the demos, the people, could keep an eye on the councillors. In Arete the council met in a closed building tucked away in the corner of a walled compound. It was a democracy guarded from its own citizens by armed men.
Watching Anamu step out into the sunshine, Ballista experienced the strange certainty that he had done all this before. A sinner in Hades, he was condemned to repeat this unenviable task for eternity. He would wait in the courtyard, be greeted by Anamu and tell the councillors some hard truths, some things they did not want to hear, things that would make them hate him. Perhaps it was a fitting punishment for a man who had killed an emperor he had sworn to protect, for the killing of Maximinus Thrax.
'Marcus Clodius Ballista, greetings.' The down-turned corners of Anamu's mouth moved. Probably it was intended as a smile.
Inside the bouleuterion it was as before, some forty councillors arranged on the U-shaped tiers of seats. Only Anamu, Iarhai and Ogelos on the first tier, sitting far apart. There was a deep, expectant silence in the small room.
Ballista began. 'Councillors, if Arete is to survive, sacrifices must be made. The priests among you can tell you how to make things right with your gods.' Taking their lead from Ogelos, those priests nodded their approval. The hirsute Christian smiled broadly. 'I am here to tell you how we can make things right among men.' Ballista paused and looked at his notes, written on a piece of papyrus. He thought he caught a look of disappointment, possibly shifting into contempt, on Anamu's face. To Hades with that – the northerner needed clarity, not rhetorical effect.
'You all know that I am stockpiling food – prices are fixed, only agents of the Dux Ripae can pay more. Again, you all know that the water supply has been taken over by the military: all water consumed is to come from the Euphrates; the cisterns are not to be drawn on.' Ballista was softening them up, telling them things they knew, things to which they had no great objection.
'Various things will be requisitioned: all boats on the river, all stocks of timber for building and a great deal of firewood. Also requisitioned will be large terracotta storage jars and metal cauldrons, all cowhides and all the chaff in the town.' The northerner noticed that one or two of the councillors looked at each other surreptitiously and grinned. If they were still alive when the time came, they would see that the last few requisitions were anything but the odd whims of a barbarian.
'Again, you know that everyone and everything entering and leaving the city is being searched.' There was a quiet murmur from the back benches. 'It causes delays. It is inconvenient. It is an invasion of privacy. But it is necessary. Indeed, we must go further. From today there will be a dusk-to-dawn curfew. Anyone on the streets at night will be arrested and may be killed. All meetings of ten or more people must obtain permission from the Dux Ripae. Anyone flouting this order, for whatever reason, will be arrested and may be killed.' The murmuring was a touch louder but, so far, the councillors found little to which they could really object: if a few of the common people got killed in the streets at night so be it.
'Some soldiers are billeted in private houses.' The muttering ceased. Now he had their attention. Given as soldiers were to wanton destruction, theft, violence and rape, the billeting of troops was always deeply unpopular. 'So that troops can reach their posts quickly, billeting will have to be extended. Buildings in the second blocks in from the western wall and the first blocks in from the other walls may be affected. A reasonable compensation will be paid to the owners of the buildings.' There was silence. The councillors were the great property-owners. Providing they could keep the soldiers out of their own homes, they might do well out of this. 'Also, the caravanserai near the Palmyrene Gate will be taken over by the military. Compensation will be paid to the city.'
Sunlight was pouring into the room from the door behind Ballista. Motes of dust swirled in the golden air. Maximus and Romulus came in and stood behind him.
'The nine hundred mercenaries of the three caravan protectors will be formed into three numeri, irregular units, of the Roman army. They will be joined by the same number of conscripted citizens. The troops will be paid by the military treasury. Their commanders will hold the rank and draw the salary of a praepositus.' Iarhai grinned. The other two tried to look as if it were all a noble self-sacrifice, Ogelos rather more successfully than Anamu. It was a windfall: their private armies were to be doubled in size and paid for by the state.
'There is a terrible need for manpower. All able-bodied male slaves – and we estimate that there are at least 2,500 of them in the town – will be requisitioned into labour gangs. They will not be nearly enough. Some 5,000 citizens will be pressed into labour gangs as well. Some occupations will be reserved. Blacksmiths, carpenters, fletchers and bowyers will be exempt from the labour gangs but will work exclusively for the military. The boule will draw up the necessary lists.' The three caravan protectors betrayed nothing but, behind them, the other councillors exclaimed with barely suppressed anger. They were to have to organize the handing over of large numbers of their fellow citizens to slave-like labour.
'These labour gangs will assist the troops in digging a moat in front of the western, desert wall, and building a glacis, an earthen ramp, in front of it. They will also help construct a counter-glacis behind the wall.' Here goes, thought Ballista, unconsciously touching the hilt of his spatha.
'To make room for the counter-glacis, the internal earthen ramp, the labour gangs will assist in demolishing all the buildings in the first blocks in from the western wall.' For a moment there was a stunned silence, then men at the back began to shout in protest. Against the rising noise, Ballista pressed on.
'The labour gangs will also help the troops to demolish all the tombs in the necropolis outside the walls. Their rubble will be used as the filling of the glacis.'
Uproar. Almost all the councillors were on their feet, shouting: 'The gods will desert us if we pull down their temples… You want us to enslave our own citizens, destroy our own homes, desecrate the graves of our fathers?' The cries of sacrilege were echoing back off the walls.
Here and there were isolated islands of calm. Iarhai was still seated, his face unreadable. Anamu and Ogelos were on their feet but after initial exclamations they were silent and thoughtful. The hairy Christian still sat, smiling
