Ironroot (16 page)

The inn stood overlooking the central space of the village, a green with a constantly flowing spring from a boulder pile that fed a small stone trough before trickling down a runnel and into the river. Salonius smiled appreciatively as he took in the welcoming sight of a large, well lit double storey building. The door was of the stable variety, separated into upper and lower panels. The lower was latched shut; the upper standing open and casting a welcoming yellow glow onto the dark ground outside.

Wordlessly the two men dismounted and led their horses to the door. Varro handed the reins to his companion and went inside, disappearing from view for a couple of minutes as he approached the bar. Salonius stood quietly holding the reins, taking the opportunity to look around in a bored fashion and observe his surroundings. The bridge was narrow and of stone. There was little hope of any rider crossing it quietly, so Varro was right. Unless their pursuers had taken the chance to get ahead this afternoon, they would have to stay in the valley for the night, presumably close enough to be able to keep an eye on the village and their quarry. So long as he and Varro alternated sleep they could watch the bridge easily from the inn. He smiled.

“Over here!” Varro’s voice called from around the side of the building.

Salonius led the horses at a walk around the building and to the stables where Varro waited with a boy in an apron. The stable hand reached up and took the reins, while the two guests collected their various bags and important belongings from the saddles, after which he led the horses to their accommodation for the night. Varro and Salonius watched him disappear, noting where their mounts would be stabled, and then strode in through the side door, into the inn. Varro stopped by the entrance and spoke to his companion in a hushed voice.

“I’ve arranged a room at the other side of the inn; the direction we entered the village. I’ll explain when we’re up there.”

The two swiftly passed through the warm, welcoming bar and trotted lightly up the stairs to the rear. At the end of the corridor, Varro stopped and fumbled with a key until the lock released with a click and the door swung open. Salonius crossed the room and dropped the bag on the floor before approaching the window and peering around the side of the frame into the darkness beyond.

The window looked out over the bridge and into the distance down the valley. The advantages of the view were clear. Varro joined him and pointed at an angle down the alley at the inn’s side. Salonius peered into the shadowy space and noted the low wooden roof of an outhouse only a few feet away: an easy exit without alerting any of the inn’s patrons. He smiled.

The moon was high but partially obscured by scudding clouds as Varro and Salonius slid the table bearing their dirtied dinner plates away from the window and the captain climbed through, surprisingly nimbly, Salonius thought, given both his age and his current state of health. As the younger man approached the window ready to follow suit, he saw Varro swing from the sill and land with a soft thud on the gently-sloping insulated wooden roof of the outhouse.

Salonius climbed through and swung across to the roof quietly and dextrously, landing in a crouch. He glanced down into the alley to see that Varro had dropped lightly to the dirt floor. Following, the young soldier joined him in the shadowy street. Quickly, the pair dusted themselves off and unwrapped the linen scarves they’d bound around the hilts of their swords to prevent unnecessary noise during the descent.

“Are we taking the horses?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.

“No,” Varro replied squaring his shoulders. “Too noisy. And they’ll be near enough to see the inn, so they can’t be far beyond that farm. Follow me.”

Salonius nodded and the two moved softly to the rear of the inn. Ducking around the back of the next house they could see a short alleyway that led to a patch of darkness from which came the sounds of rushing water. Taking a deep breath, Varro jogged quietly down the alley and to the bank of the river. Clearly too far to jump and too fast to wade or swim, the only crossing point would still be the bridge. Turning the corner once more, they made their way along the river bank towards the bridge.

“Do you think they’ll be watching it?” Salonius whispered as they came to a halt a few yards away in the shadow of the last building.

“Definitely. Certainly one of them will be awake.”

“So what’s the plan?” the young man queried.

“We’ve a choice. Least visible route is to climb along the outside.” He pointed to a very narrow lip where the tile bonding layer jutted out of the grey stone. “It’ll be dangerous, ‘coz there’s not much of a lip and it’s bound to be slippery. The alternative is we take the chance and run across.”

“And hope they’re looking away at that point? Bit risky.”

“The side it is, then” agreed Varro.

Another deep breath in preparation and the captain darted across the small space to the bridge, ducking below the parapet and grasping the capstones tightly. With a last glance back at Salonius, Varro began to shuffle slowly along the side of the bridge with gently scraping noises that were almost completely drowned out by the rushing water.

The young man watched with some trepidation, his breath held and his heart pounding in his chest. He almost jumped out into the open as he saw Varro’s foot slip on the narrow lip and for a heart-stopping moment the man hung above the torrent by his fingertips before regaining his hold and shuffling along to the safety of the far bank. As he dropped silently into the long grass and climbed up the bank, he waved across to Salonius.

The young soldier ducked across the gap and dropped down the bank, grasping the top of the wall. With a grunt, he began to pull himself across, relying mostly on the strength of his arms and using the tips of his toes on the ledge mainly for balance. In what felt like hours, yet was really only moments, he reached the far bank and dropped gratefully to the grass next to Varro. The older man slapped him quietly and encouragingly on the shoulder and paused long enough for the pair of them to get their breath back.

With a deep breath, he gestured to Salonius to follow and moved along the outer wall of the farm.

“We’ll head round the back and out of the village that way. They’ll be concentrating on the inn, the bridge and the road, so we should be safe.”

Salonius nodded and joined the captain, slowly creeping along the wall. Somewhere nearby a dog barked and both men stopped for a tense moment before moving on as quietly as possible. A few minutes later they had rounded the back of the farm and were picking their way between a hen run and a rickety wooden shed with slats missing. Passing the last of the net fencing, they reached a gooseberry bush that provided the last cover before open ground.

The two men stopped and scanned their surroundings. Varro turned to face his young companion.

“If you were wanting somewhere to camp down unnoticed and get a good view of the bridge and the inn, where would you be?”

Salonius squinted into the darkness. The valley side was a steep grassy slope, pockmarked with rabbit warrens and punctuated with small rocks. Where the slope began to flatten out was a collection of large boulders that would be perfect were it not for the view was too restrictive to be of use. A wide area of open grass used for grazing goats would offer no protection. Close to the road was a small copse. It would be uncomfortable to camp in, certainly, but offered both cover and a clear view. Across the road much the same land stretched away to the bare slope of the valley side. A messy wooden structure stood in the open ground amid a wide circle of churned mud. He couldn’t see it from here, but remembered passing it on the way into the village. A cow byre.

“Two possible locations, sir” the young man frowned. “The copse and the shed.”

“Which one, though?”

Salonius shook his head uncertainly. “Could be either. The copse’d be uncomfortable, but no one’s going to come across them there and they’ve a good view. The shed would be warmer and more comfortable, but there’s the possibility of the farmer finding them.”

“We’re talking about people who’ve killed at least an officer and a courier. Do you think they’d baulk at removing a farmer and a few cows?”

The young man peered into the darkness, trying to take the measure of the building.

“So what do we do now, sir?”

“If they’re watching the bridge and the inn then it’s unlikely they can see the rest of the valley. We head to the rocks, then round the trees and down the valley a way before we cross the road and come up behind the shed from the other side.”

Without waiting for acknowledgement from the young soldier, Varro jogged quietly and swiftly away from their cover and disappeared in the gloom around the pile of boulders at the foot of the valley side.

His heart beginning to beat faster once more, Salonius followed suit, sprinting and keeping low. Though it had seemed such a distance when he first looked, he reached the boulders in mere moments and disappeared among them, panting. He found the captain also wheezing and clutching his side, leaning on one of the larger stones.

“Are you alright, sir?”

“Hurts a bit. I’ll have to dip into the medicines when we get back to the inn.”

Without further comment, he took several deep breaths, pushing back his shoulders, and then strode out from the boulders. For several hundred yards their movements would be hidden from the cow byre by the trees and once beyond that they would be far enough away to be masked by the darkness itself. Salonius followed once more, falling in alongside the older man and noting unhappily the way Varro held his side as he walked.

“If the moon comes out from behind the clouds we’re going to be a lot more visible,” he noted. Varro shrugged.

“If the moon comes out we just have to drop to the grass and wait for another cloud.”

The two walked on for a while in silence until Varro judged that they’d gone as far as they needed to, and then as quickly and lightly as they could, they slipped across the road and ran across to the relative cover of the undergrowth on the valley side. Once among the low scrub, they stopped for another rest, leaning forward with their hands on their hips, breathing deeply.

Varro looked across at Salonius and shrugged. The young man nodded and the two began to move toward the byre, now a vague, looming darker shape amid the greater darkness. They moved slowly and carefully. There was little chance the occupants would be watching anywhere but the village, so speed was of far less importance than silence. Picking their way between the scratchy, rustling plants as quietly as possible, they edged closer and closer to the barn, the rough planks from which it was constructed gradually becoming visible in the gloom.

Salonius regarded his superior, three steps ahead, with a worried look. It was clear that all this sudden exercise and movement had stirred up trouble with the captain’s wound. Perhaps it had even opened up once again and he could be bleeding to death as they moved. Salonius wouldn’t be able to tell until they reached a patch of light. The state of Varro added to his collection of concerns as he moved. What if the cows had been locked up somewhere else and the barn was empty. Where would they look then? What if their pursuers had already gone ahead and were at the Imperial way station? What if, and this one had been nagging at him all afternoon: what if these men turned out to be innocent? Or even allies?

He realised his pace had slowed and he was gaining distance on the captain out ahead.

“Damn it” he muttered under his breath and picked up the pace a little. It was no good surrendering to doubt now.

By the time he’d caught up with Varro, the two were mere yards from the shed. At least one of his fears was allayed as they ducked across the open space, the mud fortunately dry due to the recent lack of rain. As they crouched by the wall of the barn, Salonius could hear the murmur of hushed conversation within. He strained to hear more, but the detail was still indistinct. There were clearly two men talking in very low tones.

Varro shuffled silently along the wall to where low flickers of yellow light shone out through a hole in the boards. He peered through and then beckoned Salonius to join him.

Inside the barn were two men. One, lying on a rough bed of straw, was wrapped tightly in a blanket with a saddle blanket rolled up beneath his head. The other sat at the barn’s window, gazing out toward the village in the distance. He was dressed in rough tunic and breeches. Not a military uniform tunic, but that of a civilian, yet on the belt fastened round his waist was a solid Imperial military sword. A quick glance back confirmed that a second sword lay next to the reclining man, within arm’s reach. Salonius craned his neck to look further back into the byre and noted with distaste the source of the smell wafting gently through the window. Half a dozen cows lay in various positions to the rear where they’d been led and, without a moment’s thought, had their throats cut. Salonius felt unaccountably queasy.

Varro nudged him and pointed to the watcher and then tapped himself quietly on the chest. With two fingers making a walking motion, he mimed moving around the shed to the window and then lightly patted his sword. Salonius nodded his understanding and pointed at the door of the barn. The large door was held shut with only a length of twine, designed, as it was, to be shut from the outside. He mimed cutting the twine with his blade and then pointed at the reclining figure. Varro nodded agreement and held out his hand. Salonius grasped it and shook once before slowly and quietly drawing his sword. Varro did the same and, with a single nod, began to creep slowly and quietly around the wall.