We had no idea where we were going. Getting away from all this racket was our main aim. We could work out the details later.
I could see a light bobbing ahead of us. Soldiers. We swerved to the left, but they saw us. They shouted. I could hear a strange metallic clatter. They must be bashing their swords against their shields to alert others nearby. I could hear the clatter taken up in the distance.
More shouting now, closer at hand. What to do? To stay on the main road, or risk one of these narrower streets with the possibility of being trapped?
The decision was taken out of our hands.
Four men stepped out of a doorway. One swung a shield and Peterson went down like a tree. He didn’t move.
I should have run. I should have left him. At least one of us would escape. But this was Tim. My friend Tim.
I stood over him and snarled defiance. They laughed at me and someone grabbed me from behind. He stank of onions, leather, sweat, and dust. I didn’t struggle. I didn’t want to give them any excuse to rough us up. Maybe I could tell them we were only looking for water and they’d let us go. Maybe a pig would fly past with a nice cup of tea.
I’d dropped the bowl, but I cupped my hands together, mimed drinking and pointed back down the street to the well.
They held up the light and stared at me.
As well they might. My hair had come down. I was covered in dust and grime. My hands were still stained brownish-red from the dye and there were splashes of the same colour all over my tunic. It looked like blood.
I knew exactly what they were thinking.
Looters.
People out after dark, taking advantage of the prevailing confusion to help themselves to anything of value. To steal. Maybe even to kill.
There’s never any mercy for looters in any age. Throats cut. Dropped back into the dirt for the cart to collect the next morning. They’d think no more about it. We would lie, dying, watching the lifeblood pour out of our bodies to soak into the ever-thirsty desert dust.
The most peaceful assignment I’d ever had was not going to end well.
‘Major, where are you?’
No reply. Were we in a dead spot?
I struggled but I might as well not have bothered. I don’t think my captor even noticed.
‘Water,’ I said, desperately. ‘We were looking for water.’ If they realised I was foreign they might think we hadn’t understood the curfew and let us off.
They weren’t even listening.
Peterson stirred. They glanced at each other and nodded.
One crouched alongside him, grasped his hair and pulled his head back. Dimly realising what was happening, he tried to struggle.
I said urgently, ‘Major, now would be a really good time.’
One of them said something that even I realised was, ‘Get on with it.’
I heard the rasp of steel as a dagger was drawn.
My own head was pulled back so hard it hurt.
I looked up at the beautiful, uncaring stars.
I felt the cold touch of metal.
A voice that was both in my ear and above me said, ‘Max, hold on,’ and Major Guthrie dropped from a nearby roof at the same time as Markham and Evans stepped out from the shadows.
With their usual disdain for historical accuracy, the security section was wearing full body armour and visored black helmets. Our captors must have thought the desert demons had risen against them. But not for long. Seconds later, all four guards were lying in the dust.
‘Good evening, historians. Can I be of any assistance?’
I glanced down at the four unconscious soldiers.
‘Why did you do that? We were winning.’
They helped Peterson to his feet.
Guthrie spoke into his com. ‘Mr Clerk – we’ve got them. Send everyone else home and await our arrival.’
Along the street, someone shouted. We weren’t out of the woods yet.
‘This way.’
Following Guthrie, we set off. Weller and Evans supported the still-not-firing-on-all-cylinders Peterson.
‘Pod Five. Two streets down. On the left. Can you walk?’
‘Of course I can.’
More shouting. Even closer.
‘Can you run?’
‘Can you keep up?’
I took off like a rocket.
The whole city was waking now. Shouts and clanging metal echoed off the buildings. Every dog in the city was yelling his head off. You could tell St Mary’s was in town.
‘Good job this is a stealth operation, Major. Imagine if people knew we were here.’
‘Just shut up and run.’
The pod was just ahead of us. Clerk had the door open. Ritter covered our approach.
We hurtled into the pod in the traditional St Mary’s manner with everyone yelling for the door.
We were safe.
I braced my hands on my knees and tried to get my breath back.
‘Well,’ said Guthrie, stowing his weapons, ‘you made a complete dog’s breakfast of this one, didn’t you?’
I slid gratefully down the wall to sit on the floor. ‘Don’t know what you mean. We saw Sennacherib die.’
‘You must be thrilled. Because that worked out so well for you, didn’t it?’
‘And did you notice,’ said Peterson groggily as they lowered him to the floor, ‘they were infantry – not archers.’