Ironroot (37 page)

Waiting until the man was at a good distance and facing away, Varro quickly and quietly climbed onto the ruined windowsill and dropped lightly to the soft, springy grass in the shadows outside. Something moved out of the corner of his eye and he glanced sharply along the wall to see Salonius echoing his steps from the corner. He nodded toward his companion and pointed at the figure now lurking by the undergrowth and Salonius returned the nod, drawing something from his belt and waving it at the captain.

Varro frowned. What the hell was the lad up to now?

He stopped in the shadows and tried to discern what Salonius was doing as the young man rummaged and fumbled until suddenly he lifted his arm above his head and began to swing it. Varro jumped. What the hell did he think he was doing? He waved his arms frantically, trying to get Salonius’ attention. The building ‘whoop, whoop’ sound of the sling as it completed each circuit would easily attract the attention of the lone figure.

And yet, while he was still trying desperately to get the young man to stop his noisy attack, Salonius let go of the strap and the stone flew with a gentle whistling sound. Sure enough, the man by the undergrowth turned at this new sound, but not fast enough. Before he ever saw the two darker shapes lurking in the shadows by the wall, the lead shot took him in the side of the head and knocked him clean from his feet.

Varro blinked, impressed despite himself.

With a quick glance at the young marksman, he jogged across to the prone soldier. The side of his head had been staved in and was oozing dark matter onto the grass. He wouldn’t be crying for help any time soon. The captain jumped at Salonius’ quiet voice by his shoulder.

“Almost a year assembling and dismantling catapults, bolt throwers and so on. That was my principle job. Every time you do it you have to check the aim and adjust to new conditions. After three months, it’s second nature. I could hit a sparrow with a siege engine, given a couple of minutes to sight.”

Varro laughed quietly.

“Come on. Let’s check the lie of the land.”

Catilina sat hunched up against the wall of the gatehouse, staring off into the gloom in the direction Varro and Salonius had taken. Her night vision was being seriously hampered by the dancing flames of their small fire and, after a few moments, she shuffled along the wall so that the fire was behind her. If she really strained her eyes, she could just about make out the shapes of her two companions moving like ghosts among the rubble and ruin near the centre of the complex.

She smiled. The noble women and the other girls she’d grown up with at Vengen and at the Imperial court in Velutio had always treated her with an aloof and distant attitude. It was, of course, no mystery why that was the case. Her brother was studious and interested in politics, history and rhetoric; her mother had been a fascinating woman, though. Catilina was always saddened when she thought of that beautiful, mysterious figure that had passed away when she was still a young girl. She knew what her mother had been like though: a genteel court lady, with hobbies and habits as befitted her station, but with a hidden side that only came out with her husband and children. Her mother had loved to ride and to explore; she had travelled with her husband on campaign in those early days of the Imperial restoration. She was no wilting flower, and neither was her daughter.

That was why the court ladies were never sure what to make of her: she had never settled into the sedate court life. Indeed, the only time she had spent any real length of time in a courtly situation was at Vengen those few years ago, and that had been when she’d met Varro and her life had changed forever. Her father had pleaded and cajoled, then demanded and shouted and finally, in the end, gave up and let her be who she wanted to be. He would never change her and, since he’d obviously come to realise that, she was sure he was just that smallest part more proud of her for it.

She had never been happier that at times like these, living roughly by a campfire with a constant threat of danger and puzzles to solve. Except for the ever-present knowledge that Varro was going to be taken from her. As soon as the thought occurred to her again, she pushed it back out of her mind. Every time she let her guard down, she risked being washed away by the turbulent emotions that pounded her. She was too strong for that. And Varro was refusing to let it get in his way, so she had to be all the more strong to keep him from despair.

The man behind all this…

Something behind her made a snapping sound. Her mind raced for a fraction of a second. Twigs popped and crackled in the flames, but there was something different about this sound. This was not a burning twig.

Gritting her teeth, she held her breath and listened as hard as she could.

Very, very quietly, she heard a footfall. Good. Between the crack and the quiet step, she had enough information to see it all in her mind’s eye. The man was directly behind her, and perhaps two paces away. She held her breath a moment longer and heard the next footstep, slow and soft. This one was close enough that she felt the faintest vibration on the ground.

Her eyes hardened as, without moving any other part of her, she swung the needle-pointed knife up with her right arm straight behind her until her arm reached back as far as it could, but not before it met resistance. There was a horrible noise and a trickle of warm liquid down her hand and wrist as she immediately released her grip on the knife handle and, turning, leapt to her feet.

She had only a moment to take in the scene. Her aim had been precise and unfortunate, the height of her seated form having driven the blade as far as the hilt into the man’s crotch and up through his bladder. His eyes were wide with shock and his mouth formed an ‘O’ as he fought to find his voice. The arm out to his side that held his sword twitched and the blade dropped from his fingers.

Panic hit her momentarily. Varro and Salonius had been so careful to remain quiet and this man was about to scream and ruin it all. Instinct took over and, pulling her arm back at the shoulder, she threw a solid punch directly at the man’s face. The low groan as he began to howl was cut short and ended in a crunch as the blow broke the man’s nose and two of Catilina’s fingers simultaneously.

He spun, his eyes rolling up into his head, and collapsed heavily to the ground.

She stared down at him for a long moment, stunned by the sudden violence and then, slowly, the pain in her fingers began to make itself known. Shaking her head to clear it, she stared out into the darkness past the fire. Even with her hampered night vision, she could see the gap where the attacker had removed a single board in their fire shield. He had been alone.

Grimacing, she stepped out of the gatehouse and edged round the corner into the darkness where she would be less visible and scanned the gloom for a further sign of her two friends. After a long moment, she saw Salonius creeping along the wall of the central building and then he disappeared around the far corner and into the darkness. She heaved a slow breath and then settled down to wait, her ears pricked for any sign of movement.

Varro and Salonius clambered to the top of the wall walk. The flight of steps they had found was missing a number of stones and covered with creeping undergrowth, rubble and dust. Slowly and carefully they approached the battlements and peered cautiously around the merlon.

“Shit!”

Instantly, the pair ducked back into the protection of the walls. Below and perhaps fifty yards from the walls scattered soldiers sat astride their horses.

Moments later they were scrambling down the stairs and running across the rough grass towards the gatehouse, all concerns over being observed forgotten.

As they approached the great defensive structure, Varro’s heart leapt into his throat. The archway, lit by the flickering flames, was empty. He and Salonius slid to a halt just as Catilina stepped out from the shadows by the gate.

The captain turned to find his companion pointing at the blood-soaked body lying next to the fire. He turned to Catilina and raised his eyebrows.

“Then we’ve got to get away from here” Catilina replied, scratching her neck carefully and noticing once again the blood trails across her hand. “I think we can distract them.”

She crouched near the fire and found a patch of dry, dusty ground. Retrieving a stick from the grass with her good hand, she drew a rough square on the floor and marked their location with an ‘x’.

“Alright then.“ Catilina cleared her throat. “Before we do this, you need to check all four walls. We’ll need to know all possible ways out, and where their cordon is weakest.”

“What’s the plan?” Salonius muttered quietly.

“They sent men in here to get us. We need to distract them. I suggest we dress three of them in our clothes, strap them to horses and send them running out of one of the exits.”

Turning at the continued silence, he regarded the young soldier with a raised eyebrow. Salonius was staring off into the distance thoughtfully, his index finger pressed against his chin.

The other two waited expectantly and after a moment, Salonius removed his finger from his chin and used it to point at the ruins at the centre of the complex.

“We need to get them to come here. If most of them are inside, they’ll be thinly spread out there and it’ll be easier to slip past them.”

“Granted,” Varro nodded, “but they’ll try and cover the perimeter anyway, and with so many of them milling about within the walls, how would we get outside? And what are you planning for your distraction?”

Salonius frowned in concentration.

“It’s all nice and logical. There are large sections of the central villa that are on the verge of collapse. A good tug with a rope and we could start around a quarter of the structure imploding, I reckon. That should bring them running. In the meantime, we need to head over to the section of walls near where I used the sling. I checked the wall out while we were over there and there’s a postern gate that’s caved in. Just off to the side is a section of fallen wall that collapsed inwards. We can hide in the overhang of the postern while they come to investigate. Then, while they’re busy, we nip out, over the fallen wall, and off into the countryside.”

Varro growled. “And what if we cross the wall and they’re covering that spot?”

Salonius shrugged.

“I don’t believe they will be. If they’re spread thinly, they’ll be concentrating on the gateways and the holes in the walls. That section will still have a drop at the other side maybe as high as ten feet. They’ll likely assume the inside is equally vertical. We’d be crazy to try leaving there, so they’ll write that off.”

“You mean we’ll have to jump the horses down a ten foot drop?” Catilina queried, staring at him. “You’re quite right we’d be crazy!”

“I’m afraid so; maybe even more. But within the next ten feet there’s what’s left of the defensive ditch too, so if we do it right we can land on the ditch slope and save the horses. It’s a long shot, but then that’s why I don’t think it’ll be watched.”