Centurion

'Why?' Krathos interrupted. 'What's happened?'

'I'm coming to that,' Macro replied testily. 'If you would do me the courtesy of listening…'

Krathos frowned and sat back in his chair, crossed his arms and nodded his assent.

'Thank you. As some of you already know, the enemy's incendiaries burned down the grain store last night. We've salvaged what we can, but with the limited supplies of water that remain my second-in-command, Prefect Cato, has calculated that on current ration levels we will be out of supplies within two days. Less if the rebels hit us with another barrage of incendiaries tonight. All the remaining water will need to be used to fight the fires. Even then, we will run dry before the fires are extinguished. Of course, we can cut the grain and water issue even further, but that will give us a few days' grace at best, and our men will be in a much weakened state if they are called on to defend the citadel.'

Macro paused to let his words sink in, and then Thermon asked, 'What are our options, Centurion?'

'They're fairly straightforward.' Macro counted them off on his fingers. 'One: we negotiate a surrender. Two: we cut the rations and continue to resist for as long as we can, and then surrender, or go down fighting.'

'We ca

'Wait.' Krathos raised his hand. 'The Roman said we could negotiate a surrender.We could try to get good terms. Prince Artaxes knows that it will cost him a great many men to take the citadel by force. If we were to surrender, and leave the kingdom to him to dispose of as he wills, then surely he would be prepared to let us leave here alive. Some of us, at least.'

'You, perhaps?' Balthus did not try to hide his scorn. 'I think you know what fate my dear brother has in mind for me. I don't think I will surrender, thank you.'

'What then?' Krathos countered. 'We stay in here and starve to death?'

'No.' Balthus shook his head and turned back to Macro. 'There is a third choice, Roman.'

'I know that,' Macro replied. 'I just wanted to see what people made of the first two.'

'Third choice?' the king said slowly. 'What's that? Speak, Centurion.'

'Your Majesty, we could send the civilians out of the citadel and use the extra rations to try to hold out until

General Longinus arrives. But if the supplies run out before then, we're back to the first two choices.'

There was a brief silence as the others digested this, and then Krathos shook his head. 'They would be massacred, surely?'

'It's possible,' Macro conceded. 'But they'll die anyway if they remain in the citadel. Starvation will get them if the enemy doesn't storm the place first, in which case they'll be slaughtered along with the rest of us. So, they die in here with us, or take their chances out there in the city. At least their sacrifice can buy us a few extra days.'

Krathos pursed his lips briefly. 'I see. Perhaps it is for the best.'

'Easy for you to say,' Balthus responded coldly, and then there was a glint in his eye.'Of course, it would be necessary to rid ourselves of all the civilians, so that the food goes as far as possible amongst the remaining soldiers. Isn't that right, Centurion?'

Macro nodded.

'In which case we would have to dispense with all non-essential people, like the king's slaves, the Roman ambassador and his retinue, and nobles like you, Krathos.'

'Me?' Krathos pressed his hand against his heart. 'Preposterous! I am one of His Majesty's most loyal subjects. My place is at his side.'

'Oh, and what good are you there? Can you shoot a bow? Can you wield a spear or sword as well as a soldier? Well?'

'That is not the issue,' Krathos blustered. 'His Majesty needs good advisers.When this is all over, the kingdom will need good men to help rebuild law and order and revive trade and business.'

Balthus shook his head. 'What the king needs now is fighters, not fat merchants like you.'

'How dare you?' Krathos stood up indignantly.

'Enough!'The king slammed his fist down on the arm of his throne and his voice echoed back off the high walls of the chamber. The others instantly fell silent. Vabathus drew a calming breath and continued steadily. 'There is no question of ejecting any of my nobles from the citadel. Nor any of the Romans. If we did that then the full fury of Rome would be visited on us the moment they got to hear of the act. We have no choice but to accept the third option offered to us by the centurion. It is the best chance I have of defending my throne. The people must be sacrificed.'

Thermon turned towards the king with a pained expression.

'What is the matter?' asked Vabathus.

'Your Majesty, we all know the probable outcome of throwing the people on the mercy of the rebels, but many of them are the families of our soldiers. What will they say when they are told?' Thermon gestured to the four men guarding the king. All eyes turned on the guardsmen who, true to their profession and training, did not show any reaction.

Balthus broke the awkward silence. 'Then we must proceed carefully. The men with families must be confined to barracks while the civilians are rounded up and escorted out of the citadel.'

'What if they don't want to leave?' asked Cato. 'What if they refuse?'

'We will have to use force,' Balthus replied. 'Desperate times require desperate actions, Roman.'

'I know that.' Cato thought quickly. 'But we must try to negotiate terms with Artaxes for their safe passage. They deserve nothing less from us.'

'Fine sentiments, Roman, but why would Artaxes negotiate? He has nothing to gain from us.'

'There is one thing we can offer him that he will find difficult to resist.' The other men in the chamber stared at him expectantly and Cato swallowed nervously as he explained his thinking.

At noon the gates of the citadel opened and Cato stepped outside into the agora. He carried no weapons, and neither did the two men who accompanied him. One auxiliary carried a bucina and blew a steady series of notes as they advanced; the other man carried a large red ba

They marched another thirty paces and halted, the bucina's shrill notes echoing back off the citadel walls. The man carrying the standard slowly swirled it in the air so that it was clearly visible. They moved forward again, stopping just short of the wall of the merchants' yards. A figure appeared above them, one of Artaxes' officers, Cato decided, judging from the fine scale armour and accoutrements.

'No closer, Roman!' the man called out in Greek. 'What do you want?'

'I wish to speak to Prince Artaxes.'

'Why?'

Cato smiled at the man's directness. 'I will not speak to his minion. Only to the prince himself.'

The rebel officer scowled for a moment and then pointed at Cato. 'Stay there, Roman. Move from that spot and my archers will shoot you down like dogs!'

'Very well.'

The rebel officer ducked out of sight and Cato and his companions were left staring at the enemy soldiers lining the wall and talking in excited tones as they tried to guess what the Roman emissary wanted with their prince. The man with the standard was still waving it from side to side.

'That's no longer necessary.' Cato said to him. 'We have their attention.'