Fortress of Spears (26 page)

Tribune Paulus was clearly unused to having his decisions challenged by the lower ranks, and appeared utterly nonplussed to find an auxiliary centurion in front of his desk and making demands of him that he could only regard as extraordinary. Having said his piece, the bearded officer standing at attention before him stared obdurately at the wall behind him and waited for Paulus to respond. The tribune spun out a long, calculated pause before speaking, wanting the silence to unnerve the other man enough to take the edge off his apparent arrogance.

‘So, Centurion …?’

‘Dubnus, Tribune.’

‘Centurion Dubnus of the First Tungrian
auxiliary
cohort. If I’ve understood you fully, you’d like me to detail a full century to join you in some wild journey north?’

‘Yes, Tribune.’

In pursuit of Centurions Rapax and Excingus, who, you claim, have abducted the fort’s doctor and carried her away in the apparently
mistaken
belief that her husband-to-be is a fugitive from imperial justice?’

‘Yes, Tribune.’

‘These two officers being, I am forced to note, a praetorian and a corn officer. Representatives of both the praetorian tribune and the Emperor himself?’

‘Yes, Tribune.’

Paulus paused again, his eyebrows raised in an incredulous stare.

‘Are you fucking mad, Centurion? I have five combat-effective centuries with which to hold this fort against who knows how many Brigantian rebels who might be gathering to attack us at this very moment. I’ll remind you of what happened to the garrison of White Strength less than a month ago, and they had a good deal more men than we do. What is it that makes you imagine that I’m going to give you a century of my soldiers to chase after two men with the power to have any one of us – or all of us – tortured and executed at the merest whiff of treason?’

‘They have the doctor, Tribune, and …’

‘And if they’ve chosen to take her there’s really not all that much I can do to stop them, given their
absolute
power to hunt down the state’s enemies. Is there, Centurion?’

The centurion locked eyes with him, and held that gaze as he replied.

‘No, sir. You can’t. But I can. Give me the men and I’ll make the pair of them vanish as if they’d never existed.’

The tribune bristled, fear and anger combined in his incredulous tone.

‘You’ll make the problem go away, will you? And what if you
don’t
? What if this lethal pairing eludes you, and discovers what I’ve done? Why in Hades would I take such a risk?’

The centurion’s face stayed expressionless, but his eyes burned into Paulus’s with renewed intensity as he leaned forward, unconsciously accepting the senior officer’s challenge.

‘Because, Tribune, your legatus, Cohort Tribune Licinius
and
Cohort Tribune Scaurus have all put their faith and trust in Centurion Corvus. If these two so-called
officers
…’ he spat the word into the air between them ‘… are allowed to do their dirty work, then all three of those men will likely die alongside him in some way or another. If you want to avoid that, you have only to give me the soldiers and turn me loose.’

Paulus sat back and pondered the centurion’s point. A legion legatus and two highly thought-of tribunes would make powerful friends in the years to come. His mind turned, as it had many times since his interview with the praetorian and the corn officer, to his oldest friend in the world, north of the Wall with the Petriana and without any clue as to the doom bearing down on him.

‘Let’s imagine that I actually give you some legionaries. You’ll take them north and hunt down these men how, exactly?’

The Briton smiled down at him from his standing position, his face almost feral with the intensity of his confidence.

‘I am a hunter, Tribune. I learned to track and kill animals with my father and his people, the same people who are currently hunting down any Roman foolish enough to go into the countryside to the south of here without enough spears to make them think twice. And I know who it is these particular animals are looking for. I will hunt them, I will find them and I will kill them both.’

‘And my part in this matter? Can I trust you to keep your mouth shut?’

The smile changed slightly, some hint of the Briton’s contempt creeping into his expression.

‘Oh yes, Tribune, I’ll be very sure not to mention your name. You wouldn’t want to be seen taking sides.’

Marcus snapped awake at the sound of a high-pitched scream which put him on his feet before any conscious thought was fully formed. Ripping the eagle-pommelled gladius from its scabbard, he stepped out into the cold morning air in his bare feet, ready to fight. A dozen of the 9th Century’s soldiers turned on hearing the scrape of his tunic on the tent’s rough canvas flap, their surprise at the weapon in his hand turning to amusement as they realised the misapprehension he was under. Looking beyond their grins, he saw the German Arminius standing with a wooden practice sword, the boy Lupus facing him with his own half-sized practice weapon held ready to strike.

‘Don’t squeal at me when you attack, boy, shout at me like you’ve got a pair of big hairy balls! And you’re supposed to be carving my guts open, not trying to tickle me! Put your weight behind the blade when you thrust!’

Marcus strolled across to the pair, the watching soldiers parting to either side.

‘You’re teaching Lupus to fight?’

The German inclined his head in a slight bow, the closest he ever came to a salute.

‘I have agreed with Morban that the boy needs to learn the arts of combat if he is to be a soldier. One hour a day, every day, I will spend on his education with the sword. Someone else can teach him to ride, though.’

The Roman’s lips twitched slightly at Arminius’s attempt at humour.

‘It’s a good idea. He’ll be able to serve in two or three years, and he should have some preparation. But what, I wonder, will become of my equipment? There’s little enough time spent on it as it is …’

Lupus turned and pointed to the tent in which he cared for Marcus’s war gear, his high-pitched child’s voice clear and confident.

‘All cleaned and polished, Centurion, boots and belts shining, armour brushed, sword and helmet polished.’

Arminius patted him on the back.

‘Wait here.’

He put out a hand, silently requesting Marcus to accompany him to the tent in question. Inside, the centurion stood in silence for a moment on seeing the condition of his equipment.

‘Not bad. He’ll have worked half the night to get it this clean.’

Arminius nodded.

‘I sat with him and told him what to do, but it was all his own work. Once the idea of daily training was mentioned I could have told him to lick the soles of your boots clean.’

Marcus turned to the German with a serious expression.

‘You know what you’re letting yourself in for? The boy lacks a father, and Morban isn’t much better than nothing, given his usual choice of pastimes.’

Arminius nodded with a wry smile of agreement.

‘I know. I’ve promised your standard-bearer that I’ll play the role for as long as Scaurus leads your cohort, as long as he donates a regular portion of his pay to see the boy well clothed and equipped.’

Marcus snorted.

‘And no doubt he promised that much and more in the wink of an eye. Just make sure you’re standing next to him when he takes his turn at the pay chest, or he’ll turn his coin into used beer, a pair of tired whores and somebody else’s winnings before Lupus ever sees any of it. But for all of that, thank you.’

The German bowed again, a quiet smile on his face.

‘The boy needs a father’s guidance. And perhaps it will also be good for you
not
to be the one centurion on parade whose boots look like the floor of a legion latrine.’

Felicia woke from a troubled sleep to find herself looking into the eyes of the thin-faced corn officer, who had lain beside her staring intently until she awoke. He leapt to his feet with a chuckle, spreading his hands wide as if for applause.

‘You see, I told you! Stare at a sleeping person for long enough and that person will wake up!’ He turned back to his prisoner, holding out a hand with which to help her to her feet. ‘Come along, my dear, we have a big day today, lots of riding to do and no time for lying about!’

The doctor got up from the ground without touching his outstretched hand, looking about her to find the small camp a flurry of activity as the guardsmen packed their bedrolls and equipment on to their horses, few of them sparing her more than a glance as they worked. The praetorian officer walked across to her with a rough slice of bread wrapped around a piece of dried meat, his face creasing into a grin when she gestured her lack of desire for food. He reached out and took her hand, pushing the unappetizing food into her palm and wrapping the fingers around it.

‘Eat it now, or eat it later, but you’re going to want it some time today. We’ll eat again at nightfall, but between then and now we’ve a long way to travel in search of your boyfriend. Throw it away if you like, but there’ll be no more until then, not unless you’ve something tasty hidden somewhere about your clothing.’

One of the soldiers turned and grinned ferociously at the dismayed woman, his hands still busy with a reluctant buckle. The tunic beneath his padded arming jacket was a different colour from that of the men around him, and his armour constructed of segmented bands of iron where theirs was made of hundreds of overlapping bronze scales.

‘I’ll search her, Centurion. You just say the word and I’ll be up that little missy’s skirts so fast she won’t …’

Rapax spun on the spot, putting his hands on his hips and shaking his head sadly.

‘You can keep your hands and your thoughts well away from this one, Soldier Maximus, unless you want your end to come considerably sooner than I’d imagine you’re planning.’

He stared levelly at the soldier until the other man lowered his gaze respectfully, than raised his voice to be sure he was heard by every man in the clearing.

‘I won’t tell you worm-beaters this more than once, so let’s all be very clear about it. This woman stays untouched until I say her time has come. I want her screams of desperation when we get her boyfriend within earshot to be exactly that.
Screams
. Not the tired moans of a woman that’s already been ridden half a dozen times by you whore mongers. Any man that doubts me in this only has to lay a finger on her and I’ll relieve him of the hand it’s attached to. You cross me on this one at your peril, gentlemen. Of course, once Marcus Valerius Aquila’s cold on the turf next to her you can draw lots for her for all I care, but until then … you have been warned!’

Felicia shivered, pulling the blanket in which she had slept closer about her and crushing the bread and meat between the fingers of her right hand as she remembered the casual ease with which Rapax had murdered her orderly the previous day. She felt the sheath of Dubnus’s knife hard against her thigh, and silently vowed to use it on herself before submitting to the ordeal so casually promised by Rapax.

After the cohorts had taken breakfast, the cavalry squadrons mounted up and headed north, fanning out across the route that the infantry cohorts would be following behind them, as they ground their way up the road that paralleled the east coast all the way to the Tuidius’s estuary. Double-Pay Silus and Decurion Felix had briefly discussed the day’s march for the former’s squadron of volunteers, and agreed that it would be best if they headed straight up the road’s relatively smooth ribbon, both for the sake of speed and to avoid the risk of the inexperienced riders among them coming to grief on the rough moorland that flanked the road’s arrow-straight course on both sides.

Arminius rode alongside Marcus in the morning’s pale sunlight, his green-eyed stare alternately flicking across the horizon and then down at the road’s cobbled surface.

‘It’s a good joke on someone’s part, to have me riding this monster along the very surface on which the slippery-footed bastard nearly managed to kill me yesterday.’

He touched the rough bandage tied around his head with a wry grin, but Marcus, sneaking a sideways glance, saw that his right hand had a good handful of the horse’s mane along with the reins.

‘Yesterday was pure accident. You’ll be all right today, especially if you just relax your posture a little and let the horse do the hard work. The poor animal must think he’s got a ceremonial statue on board.’

The German snorted disparagingly, but when he thought the Roman was no longer watching him he experimentally loosened the firm grip of his thighs on Colossus’s flanks, allowing himself to sink into a more relaxed seat. Tempted to praise the improvement, caught out of the corner of his eye as he pretended to scan the horizon, Marcus took one sideways glance at the look on the German’s face and kept his mouth firmly shut. Another mile up the road the German broke his reverie with a sudden question.

‘The order was for men who know how to swim to form this new detachment, and so here we are. That means there’s a river to cross. And after that …?’

The Roman raised an eyebrow.

‘It’s a good thing for you that I was listening at the officers’ meeting this morning, and not just admiring the unaccustomed shine of my boots. Martos thinks it’ll take two days to get the infantry close enough for an attack on day three, as long as they keep bashing along at the thirty-mile-a-day pace. They’ve got the easy job, since all they have to do is slog it north until they get close enough to the Votadini fortress to fight. In the meantime we’ve got to make sure that their approach goes unnoticed and unreported back to the men that Calgus sent to take control of the Fortress of the Spears. So you won’t have to worry too much about having these stones under your beast’s feet for very much longer.’

Arminius rode on in silence for a moment, his face creased in thought.

‘So we take their scouts, or just kill them. We make our way in close to the fortress under the cover of darkness, or bad weather, but even if we do manage to get all three cohorts in place outside their walls unannounced, how do we break in without any of the usual artillery the legions use to knock down enemy walls? Even if we surround the place, that only makes the bloody Selgovae more likely to run wild and fuck every living thing left breathing inside the fortress to death. Which would seem to defeat the purpose of our trying to rescue them.’