The Siege by Nick Brown

were several shelves lined with empty wine bottles. It was, in short, an inn.
    Shaking his head, Cassius put his hands on his belt and wondered what to do next. He had half a mind to pour water over the two men but there was no telling how they might react, even if they were part of the garrison. He walked past the aid post, then the barracks, glancing inside each gloomy window as he passed. There was little to be seen except the edge of a few bunks and the odd arm or leg sticking out, and there was little to be heard but snoring.
    ‘At least there’s a few of them here,’ Cassius said quietly to Simo.
    Hearing a noisy slurp, he turned to see the horses dipping their noses into the water trough. With more of an angle on the street, he could now see Barates deep in conversation with the warrior. The veteran seemed to be emphasising every other word with some wild gesticulation.
    Cassius reflected on what he’d discovered. It now seemed unlikely that any officer remained and that discipline amongst whatever legionaries were left had completely broken down. It was therefore essential to find out as much as he could from Barates about the men and their state of mind.
    Deciding it was still quiet enough to take a quick look at the temple, he left Simo with the horses and hurried across the corner of the square. He passed the well, with its four-foot clay surround, and bracket and winch for raising and lowering pails, then ducked under the low doorway of the temple. There was just enough light to see a simple stone altar opposite the door. Two figures had been crudely engraved on its surface. The legend underneath read: to mars and hercules. from the men of the third legion . Beneath the altar was an ancient-looking spear, a dagger with an embossed handle and a helmet that had almost rusted away. A pair of candles, standing sentry-like in front of the altar, appeared not to have been lit in a long time. Cassius also noticed that his were the only footprints in the sand that had blown in off the square.
    It seemed that the legionaries of the Alauran garrison had forsaken religion along with military discipline.
    Exiting the temple, he was surprised to see the horses trudging slowly away from the barracks, their reins trailing in the dust. Behind them, Simo seemed to be drinking from the water trough below one of the windows. Cassius then realised that he was in fact being held down.
    As Simo tried to free himself, Cassius sprinted over to him. The owner of the large hands gripping Simo’s neck leaned further out of the window. He was a man of about thirty, with curly hair, a blunt nose and a demeanour that suggested he had just woken up.
    ‘Use our trough for your beasts, would you?’ he shouted at the back of Simo’s head. ‘Let’s see how you like sharing with ’em.’
    ‘Let go at once!’ Cassius ordered.
    The man looked up, blinking.
    ‘And what concern is it of yours, boy?’ he snarled.
    ‘It is my concern because unless you are some wandering peasant, I will assume from your location that you are a legionary of Rome. With that in mind, I will give you a moment to wipe the sleep from your eyes and a chance to look at me again. Perhaps you might notice the helmet in my hand or the stripe on my tunic?’
    Cassius had heard such speeches hundreds of times during training. The words came easily enough but he was less confident of predicting their effect.
    After a moment’s pause, the legionary released Simo and placed his hands on the window. Grunting, he disappeared into the shadows. Simo, coughing and spitting out water, took a couple of steps backward.
    ‘Sorry, sir. He caught me unawares.’
    ‘Don’t worry. Just fetch the horses, would you.’
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    As Simo moved away, Cassius waved at Barates and gestured towards the officers’ quarters. Barates waved back.
    Turning on his heels, Cassius immediately found himself faced by the curly-haired legionary and two of his fellows, all armed with wooden