Ironroot (20 page)

On springy grass without the constant crunch of gravel beneath their boots, all the sounds of a summer morning flooded in and filled their ears. Birdsong, the buzzing of bees, the splashing of the fast, narrow river in the middle distance and the occasional scurrying noise in the undergrowth all combined to send a flood of calming relief through the two men as Varro finally pushed through the last branches and broke out into the clearing where Catilina sat on a rock. The reins of the three horses were tied to a branch behind her, while she, herself, sat with a hefty Imperial blade between her fingers, point-down on the grass. Salonius raised his eyebrows as he recognised the blade from his saddle. For some odd reason, the lady seemed perfectly natural and happy bearing a heavy military blade.

The young man made an affirmative noise and began to clamber up the bank beyond the small knot of trees. Varro wandered across the clearing and sat on a stone near Catilina.

“Shouldn’t be long; then we can get going up toward Saravis Fork.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve been thinking; it’s dangerous to come back this way, but I really can’t see an alternative. There’s no Imperial road other than this. I believe there are native trails but even then it could take weeks to get back down. Are you sure you want to risk this? Going to the very border of the Empire and maybe even getting trapped there?”

“You don’t understand” she stated, cutting him off. “It’s been a long time since we were together, but you knew I’d wait, surely? I knew you would. There’d always be time for us to be together again, but now…”

Varro lowered his head and Catilina smiled sadly.

“I don’t know whether we’ve got six months or two days. If Scortius is the genius they say he is, we may even have many years. However long you’ve got, you’re spending it with me. On that point there’s no give!”

Varro looked across at her and grinned.

“Who does know how long they’ve got eh?”

Salonius burst through the leaves and ran out into the clearing, trying to arrest his momentum. Coming to a halt in the centre, he put his hands on his knees and breathed deeply, looking up at Varro and Catilina. The two were sitting close together with their hands on their knees. Catilina was smiling a genuine warm smile, while the captain appeared flushed and looked away momentarily.

“Assuming they’re a normal outpost garrison, there’s only going to be two left up there.” He reached up and started to untie his reins from the branch. “And I’m guessing that our two friends are among the riders coming down here we’ll just have two lightly armed guards to deal with there.”

Salonius reached out and grasped his own reins. He stopped for a moment and then put a finger to his mouth and cupped his hand around his ear. The others fell silent and listened intently. The drumming of hooves was deadened somewhat by the undergrowth between the open clearing and the road around six hundred yards away, but there were clearly several riders pushing their horses as hard as they dare.

Once the sound of the hooves began to recede and the riders were out of sight in the direction of the village, the three slowly made their way out of the bushes and onto the road. There was no sign of the horsemen passing bar the slowly settling dust kicked up by their passage. As they mounted and began to move at a brisk pace up the valley Salonius, with a troubled look on his face, cleared his throat and looked across at Varro.

“I can’t do that again, sir.”

“What?” Varro replied in confusion.

“I’m a soldier” he said flatly. “It’s not fear. I’ll fight the enemies of the Empire. I’ll go into battle with no regrets, sir. But…”

“I know Varro, Salonius. He won’t have liked this any more than you, but those men were no longer soldiers of the Empire. They were prepared to kill us. That makes them fair game.”

“Yes ma’am, I know. It’s just… well I don’t think a soldier should be required to torture or execute. That’s why we have provosts.”

Varro looked down for a moment and then fixed his young companion with a hard look.

“Sometimes you have to be everything from the accuser to the executioner. It’s not a nice thing, but it’s necessary. If you ever intend to make it as a sergeant or even an officer you have to understand that. It’s not easy, and everything about you tells you it’s wrong, but you have to push yourself past that and do what needs doing.”

“You’ve done that before, sir?” Salonius asked.

Varro nodded sullenly.

“A couple of years ago we had a problem with supplies. We were campaigning in the mountains about thirty miles west of here and had to drop to half rations for a week or so, to eke out our stores. But the supply trains never came. So we had to drop further, to quarter rations. I sent a request to Vengen for extra supplies but things were almost as bad there.”

The young man nodded and risked an interruption.

“I remember the time. Crop failures all over the north. The tribes were starving too.”

The Captain smiled sympathetically. “It was a hard time for everyone. Finally we were on emergency rations for more than a week; not really enough to feed a dog, let alone a human being. The men were beginning to lose their fighting strength, but we couldn’t afford to leave our position.”

He grasped the reins tighter and shared a look with Catilina that Salonius couldn’t see.

“Things just kept getting worse and the mood of the men got ugly. We started having to break up fights over food. We even had the occasional desertion, though why’s beyond me. If the army had no food, why would a man think he could do better for himself? And then one night the camp guards caught three men stealing food from the commander’s supply; from my supplies, you see. Well, it’s not as though I had any more spare food than any other man; I was living on the same rations as them, but some men will always think their officers feast on a roast hog while they starve. The thieves attacked the guards when they were spotted and almost killed one of them before they were overcome.”

He squared his shoulders.

“Well, what could I do? I know there were extenuating circumstances, but there comes a point when discipline has to be maintained, even at the expense of personal preference.”

“What did you do, Sir?”

“We found out who the ringleader was; a promising young soldier called Terentius. He took responsibility straight away. Good man really. It meant he saved his companions.”

“It’s all about discipline, Salonius” the captain added. “You sometimes have to make hard choices and do unpleasant things because, if you don’t, you lose control and without control an army turns into a wolf pack.”

The young man continued to nod, grimly. “So what do we do when we get to the outpost? Those two men are probably entirely innocent.”

“Relax” Varro smiled. “Catilina and I worked that out while you were keeping watch.”

The way station was more of a small fortress than a simple outpost. Four walls roughly two hundred feet long enclosed two barracks, a commander’s room, garrison office, a small granary and storeroom and a small house to provide accommodation for passing dignitaries, Imperial couriers or men of rank. The single, heavy gate was surmounted by a higher parapet. And yet this small fort seemed strangely quiet and empty as Catilina approached, the gentle breeze that flowed down the valley rippling the rough and basic cloak wrapped around her.

As she walked, she carefully kicked up as much dust as she could, to dirty her clothing and make herself appear more mean and poor than her clothes would normally suggest. Her arm was beginning to ache from the heavy bundle of sticks she carried awkwardly. The gate of the way station stood open, surprisingly. She narrowed her eyes and squinted through the dust she’d created. Two figures stood deep in conversation in the gate’s interior.

Salonius and Varro had been careful to stay far enough back that there was no chance of being spotted from the station but, given the soldiers’ lack of attention, they could likely have walked up to the gate before being seen. Still, while her father would have the men hauled over the coals for their ineptitude, she had no complaints since it all served their cause so well.

Catilina smiled inwardly. Varro had insisted that they’d need a signal, but she’d been sure he’d be able to tell when she’d arrived. She shuffled to a halt and waved her sticks as best she could.”

“Your men…” she broke into a grating cough that positively reeked of serious illness. Her mother had always said that if the family lost their wealth and privilege Catilina had a future on the stage. It was important to both create the right impression and to drag this encounter out as long as she could.

“What!”

The man was quickly getting angry. Balance was required. She couldn’t afford to lose his attention, but she also could not have him run and fetch his horse.

“Your men… down to the village.”

“What about them!” As the first man grounded his spear, Catilina tried not to smile. The other, more senior, guard reached out and grasped her by the upper arms. Over his shoulder, she watched Varro step like a cat from the bushes beside the fort and creep along the wall toward the relaxing guard’s back. She looked up into the commander’s eyes.

“Your men are in danger!”

“Why?” He swung his arm up to bring it down in a ringing slap, but at the apex it would not descend. He looked round in surprise and Salonius’ face split into a wide grin.

“Morning.”

The guard started to open his mouth, but the pommel of Salonius’ sword thunked into the back of his head with some force and his eyes glazed over as he slowly collapsed. Salonius caught him by the arm before he could slump too far and lifted him, slinging him over a shoulder. The young man smiled at Catilina and turned with his burden to see Varro dragging the other man, unconscious, toward the gate.

As the two soldiers dropped their prisoners unceremoniously in the first building they found, Catilina searched the store and reappeared with a roll of twine. As she and Salonius busily set about binding the wrists and ankles of the two men, Varro stuffed bundles of cloth into their mouths and gagged them.

As his companions left the fort, Varro stopped behind them and closed and barred the heavy gate. Happy with the result, he ascended the staircase to the wall. Looking down the twenty five feet from the wall walk to the dust, he took a deep breath and swung his legs out over the drop. He heard Catilina draw a sharp breath and, smiling, lowered himself until only his fingertips clutched the wall and let himself drop.

“Let’s get going. If we ride hard and through the night, we should be at Saravis Fork by sunset tomorrow.”

Chapter Eight

They’d made excellent time. The high saddle of one of the most important passes in the northern mountains opened up to a grand and breathtaking sight. As the three riders and their exhausted mounts crested the high point and looked down, none of them could deny the astonishment they felt. The pass descended slowly and gently, becoming a wide but short valley, bisected at the far end by a spur of land, turning it into the ‘Y’ from which its name stemmed. A small, fast river ran from the left fork and off down the right, cutting through the centre of a large civilian settlement of stone and wood houses that nestled in the valley at the foot of the spur. On all sides the mountains reared up higher than those through which the riders had passed, protecting the valley from the worst of the weather and making it a haven of lush greenery amid the snowy grey.