'Do you know much about jewels?' shot Tarquinius.
The Judaean's eyes flickered. 'I have some knowledge.'
'How much indigo?'
'Three modii.' Isaac's lips pursed at the interrogation and he turned to Pacorus for support. 'All taxes due were paid in full, Excellency. At Antiochia.'
The Parthian smiled.
'One modius would be enough purple dye for a thousand togas!' Tarquinius blew out his cheeks. 'Make you a wealthy man.'
'First the dyers in Tyre must be paid,' protested Isaac. 'They will rob me blind!'
'That will still leave a tidy amount, old man,' said Pacorus dryly.
'I risk my life crossing half the world, Excellency,' Isaac muttered. 'Can I not make a little money?'
'Of course,' Tarquinius laughed, raising both hands placatingly. 'What quantity of silk have you got?'
Sensing interest, there was an instant change in the merchant's demeanour. 'Over a hundred bales of the very best fabric,' he said slyly. 'Want to see?'
The Etruscan glanced at Pacorus, to indicate that the officer was in apparent command.
'Show us.'
Isaac spoke eagerly to his compatriots. Hurrying from the tent, the men quickly returned with two large cloth-wrapped bundles. Walking towards them, the Judaeans expertly unrolled the bales. Clouds of dust rose as the heavy covering came away, but the cream silk within was still clean. Even the tent's dim light could not dampen the glistening sheen from the fabric.
'Worth its weight in gold,' whispered Tarquinius, moving closer. He felt the sheet with a finger and thumb. 'Is it all the same thickness?'
Isaac began to extol the qualities of his merchandise.
Tarquinius dropped the pretence. 'We want the lot.'
The Judaean was shocked. 'All of it?'
He nodded.
'That silk is worth a fortune,' Isaac protested before bowing towards Pacorus. 'And I doubt very much if it is in your . . . price range.'
Tarquinius reached into his tunic. 'Look at this,' he said, opening the leather pouch.
Warily Isaac extended a grimy hand.
The ruby dropped into his outstretched palm.
'That should pay for everything,' said the Etruscan.
For a moment the Judaean was speechless. It was larger than a hen's egg.
Tarquinius chuckled knowingly.
'I'm not sure this is top quality,' Isaac raised the gem to the light, one eye closed. 'I can see some imperfections.'
'It is worth a king's ransom,' snapped Tarquinius. 'And you know it.'
'Take the ruby,' Pacorus' voice was cold. 'The silk is ours.'
'And the myrrh,' added Tarquinius.
Isaac knew when to take a bargain. 'Of course, Excellency,' he fawned. The stone had already disappeared into his robe. 'They are yours. The goods only need to be carried here from my camp.'
He turned to go.
'Stay,' said Tarquinius. There was no mistaking his tone. 'Until we have seen all the silk.'
The old trader stopped dead. 'Indeed, indeed.' He spat an order at his men, who scurried from the tent.
Tarquinius turned to Pacorus. 'It is strong and thick. And these bales should cover five thousand shields.'
'That's only half of them.'
'It will be more than enough.' The Etruscan stared at the commander, dark eyes piercing. 'I have already seen a mighty victory over the Sogdians.'
'They say you predicted the Roman defeat before Carrhae.'
'Weeks before.'
Pacorus smiled.
Chapter XXX: Margiana
Margiana, autumn 53 BC
Spanning fifteen hundred miles, the journey from Seleucia had taken in all terrains and weather types. It had been an extraordinary experience for the legionaries, Crassus' campaign having provided little skill at survival in such environments. Encouraged by Tarquinius, surviving optiones and harsh Parthian discipline, the prisoners had toughened up beyond measure. Three months later, fitter than ever before, muscled, tanned dark brown, the men were recognisable only by their tattered uniforms. New cloth standards had been fashioned for each century and five thousand scuta covered with silk. Tarquinius had been busy each night, supervising the soldiers as they stitched multiple layers in place. Helmets and spear tips flashed in the sunlight; neat ranks marched in step for twenty miles every day. The trumpeters were still being used, but Pacorus had also trained the men to recognise new commands from the drums.
The Forgotten Legion was now an intimidating sight, but there had been no action on the long march. As the soldiers had soon discovered, few people lived in the vast emptiness of central Parthia. No one had complained. The memory of Carrhae was still raw.
Some weeks after the encounter with Isaac, the flat, arid terrain had been replaced by a range of hills covered in scrubby bushes and trees. Marching through them, the legionaries entered the green plains of Margiana. To their delight, there were frequent watercourses, fed from the mountains visible on all sides. This was inhabitable land, the polar opposite of the wastes left behind. It reminded Romulus of the countryside he had seen while journeying from Rome to Brundisium.
Water bottles were now full every day, the game plentiful and temperatures acceptable. Each night the men's bellies were stuffed with meat. The Parthian guards relaxed. Life had become more enjoyable. Even the cloud of vultures that had followed them all the way from Seleucia thinned out and disappeared.
The attention of the gods had been drawn away from the Forgotten Legion.
'You were right!' Felix stared at the verdant scenery with delight. 'Rivers. Fertile soil. There are farms here.'
'Told you,' answered Brennus with a smile. 'Trust Tarquinius.'