Legionary: Viper of the North (19 page)

Tarquitius recoiled at this. The barbarian spoke to him as if he was a dog. ‘You stand to gain vast spoils from my knowledge, Iudex. Value my company as you would value those spoils.’

Athanaric stared, unblinking. ‘Tell me of the border legions.’

Tarquitius shuffled indignantly, then pursed his lips. The iudex was a stubborn whoreson; with too few men to mount a full-scale invasion, he relied on scraps like this, scraps that would open the door of the empire for him.
Perhaps,
he mused,
it would be prudent to play to this dog’s delusions of power.

‘The imperial borders are weak, Iudex, weaker than they have ever been. I have spent your funds wisely,’ he grinned, lifting a trio of scrolls from his satchel, ‘and those I have bribed know only that they talked to a senator; your part in this remains undisclosed.’ He flattened the first of the scrolls to reveal a map of the River Danubius, then stabbed a finger at a large dot, south of the river and well west of Durostorum. ‘Here is where I propose you strike. The city of Sardica is virtually undefended; barely half a cohort lines its walls and the forts on the river north of it are manned only by a century at most.’ He looked up, thinking of how he had wrung that information from Pavo, then felt a sweat break out as he saw that Athanaric looked down on the map in distaste.
Time to sell it
, he realised. ‘But even better; that garrison is due to return to the XI Claudia fort before spring. Within the month, I should have knowledge of the exact dates of the garrison changeover.’ He leaned forward, towards Athanaric, his eyes glinting. ‘Inside the Roman borders, such movements are often lax. A window of opportunity could be created; time it right and your forces could puncture the Roman borders and take this city and the governor’s family who reside there with little resistance. The ransom for their heads will be handsome, and
I
can guarantee it will be met,’ his eyelids dipped a little, and he purred, ‘for a healthy commission, of course.’

He watched as Athanaric sat silently, no doubt mulling over the deal. It was just as he had planned for months now. A controlled invasion where he could be the saviour of that wretch of a governor, gaining esteem from both the iudex and from the empire. A lavish reward, a lofty promotion and a thick slice of the ransom would no doubt be in the offing.

Athanaric looked up and Tarquitius waited eagerly on his praise.

‘There will be no raid, no sacking of Sardica.’

Tarquitius cocked his head to one side, frowning. ‘I beg your pardon?’

Athanaric’s face split into a cool smile. ‘I said, there will be no raid. Those ambitions are trivial in comparison to what is to happen now. Much has transpired in these last months that you know little of, Senator.’

Tarquitius snorted. ‘What is this? The whole guise of a peace parley took months to organise, just so we could meet here, like this. And now you rebuff my carefully laid plans?’ The blood boiled in his veins. ‘You would do well to make the best of my services, Iudex, for plenty others would be happy to make use of them!’ He stabbed a finger into the table as his words rang around the room.

Then an icy realisation danced over his skin.

They were not alone.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the shadows ripple by the far end of the hall.

Then, like a shade, something drifted forward. Shadows and a dark-green haze.

The hairs on Tarquitius’ neck stood on end as he turned to the apparition. A figure, cloaked and hooded in dark green, came straight for him. He felt the beginnings of a squeal build in his lungs as it approached. Then the figure stopped abruptly, only paces from him.

The face was cast in shadows, only the line of a jaw illuminated by the guttering torchlight.

Tarquitius snatched a glance at Athanaric, who was smiling an awful smile. ‘What is the meaning of this? We were to talk
alone!
’

‘You are alone, Senator,’ the figure hissed. ‘I am but a shade.’

Tarquitius’ eyes bulged and he looked to Athanaric.

Athanaric nodded. ‘You should be honoured, Senator, for the Viper stands before you.’

Tarquitius’ lips flapped. ‘The Vi . . . ‘

‘And you should listen and listen well to what I have to say, Senator of Rome,’ the Viper spoke in a rasping, caustic tone. Then he reached out, lifting Tarquitius’ scrolls and tearing them in half. ‘Iudex Athanaric has told you what will be; no raid will take place. He has no intention of crossing the great river only to bolster your reputation then come scuttling back with a few coins. Your small-minded ambition will serve as a minor pillar in what is to come.’

Tarquitius’ throat tightened and sweat danced down his scalp and over his eyes, despite the cold.

‘Yes, the Roman borders
will
be breached,’ the Viper stabbed a finger into the table. ‘But it will be no mere raid. This will be an invasion . . . an invasion that will
end
your empire.’

Tarquitius’ eyes bulged, his heart thudding. He glanced to Athanaric. ‘But your armies are too few; one spear for every ten of Fritigern’s, you said. And Fritigern is in truce with the empire.’

‘And my own loyal riders number only a few hundred. This is true,’ the Viper agreed.

‘So, how . . . ’ Tarquitius started.

‘It is simple. Fritigern’s armies will be pressed into service,’ the Viper purred. ‘My riders have been disrupting his lands for some months now and drawing the Roman legions from their forts. But that has just been preparative for what is to come. As we speak, a storm readies to smash against Fritigern’s lands.’

Tarquitius frowned, looking to Athanaric. ‘A storm?’

‘The dark hordes of the north, Senator,’ Athanaric grinned like a shark, ‘remember them? Like a press, they will drive Fritigern’s armies onto Roman soil.’

Tarquitius felt his face blanching and a prickly dread rippled across his neck. His past dealings with the Huns had left a black stain on his soul. ‘You are making a mistake, a big mistake. They cannot be harnessed!’

‘Any man can be controlled, Senator,’ the Viper spat, ‘as you have so ably demonstrated with your actions and your presence here tonight. But now that you know what is to come, your mind may well turn to betraying me?’

Tarquitius shivered as he imagined a thousand more figures waiting in the shadows of the hall. ‘No, I . . . ’

‘What is to stop me from cutting your throat over this very table, right now?’ The Viper rasped, lifting a houndstooth dagger from his cloak, placing the point on the table and twisting it round with his thumb and forefinger.

Tarquitius’ gut churned and he felt his bladder weaken as the blade glinted in the torchlight. A thousand thoughts flashed through his mind, then one image remained.

Pavo.

‘I can still be of use to you,’ he nodded hurriedly. ‘I have a network of contacts in the legions now. One of them, a legionary, was going to get me the date of the Sardica changeover, but I could steer him elsewhere? I hold a piece of knowledge that he craves; he will do whatever I ask, I know it!’

The Viper’s jaw creased in a grin at this and he spun the dagger in silence for what felt like an eternity. ‘Then you should continue to deny the legionary this knowledge, Senator. Without this, it seems you would be truly worthless to me, and I would have little reason to keep you alive.’ The Viper leaned closer to him. ‘Now you will return to your empire knowing that, in a heartbeat, I could expose you as the traitor that you are. I will be watching you, I will see your every move, hear your every word.’

Tarquitius nodded, mouth agape. He had only just avoided disgrace and execution after the Bosporus debacle. Any more tawdry and shameful revelations would surely be the end of him.

‘But you must be ready for when I next call upon you to do my bidding. When you see my mark, you will obey.’

Tarquitius nodded hurriedly, then glanced to Athanaric and then back to the Viper.

The Viper leaned forward, a flicker of torchlight illuminating his jaw again for the briefest of moments, the light dancing on his awful grin. He placed his mouth to Tarquitius’ ear and rasped;

‘Run, Senator . . . ’

Tarquitius shot up from his seat, stumbled backwards, then turned and scrambled from the hall.

Athanaric watched the door swing shut, then eyed the hooded figure in whom he had placed so much stock.

The Viper – the demon who had haunted his childhood – now offered him the glory he had sought for so long; for the land to be cleansed of Fritigern and his followers so he could be the one true Iudex.

Now that the reality dangled before him, he felt agitated at the doubts that crept into his thoughts. ‘Do you think the senator has a point about the Hun hordes? You are sure they will ransack only Fritigern’s lands? And what if Fritigern fights, or seeks shelter in my mountains?’

The Viper was unmoved by this prospect. ‘Turn your thoughts from doubt, Iudex. The Huns and their subjects have already been herded to their goal like sheep. And, likewise, Fritigern will be steered, for my finest man is by his side.’

Athanaric could not contain his amusement at this. ‘Fritigern. My greatest rival. The one I thought so shrewd. He does not know that a demon has wormed its way into his trust?’

The Viper steepled his hands under his chin. ‘Do you not see the beauty in that, Iudex? And that is exactly why we lured the Romans here – for we now need an equal hand in their ranks.’

‘The Romans are shrewd,’ Athanaric countered, grudgingly. ‘As I understand it, trust is hard won in the legions.’

‘It is all in hand,’ the Viper nodded. ‘Trust is forged in the fires of adversity. Now, let me tell you how we will stoke that fire . . . ’

Chapter 8

Pavo’s breath misted before him as he eyed his fifty, formed up before him in the village torchlight. Night was still upon them and the snow fell silently around them, already ankle deep and coating the men’s shoulders and helmets. The Gothic villagers had brought them hot vegetable pottage and bread. They had gratefully and greedily devoured this rich and warming mix before crunching through hardtack biscuits. Then they had washed it all down with fruit beer and fresh water. Their tired, sleep-deprived bodies fractionally revitalised, the veterans and recruits now looked to him in expectation. And he dreaded what he was about to say.

They could not go home. At least, not the way they had come.

Yes, Pavo affirmed, it was only natural to want to flee directly back to the river after sighting the hordes just a short while ago. But it would be a fool’s flight, straight into a swarm of Hun arrows and a sea of Alani sword points, or under the trampling hooves of Fritigern’s fleeing armies. No, he squared his jaw and nodded, touching a hand to his bronze phalera; the answer lay in another direction. They would have to move southwest, skirting the stony mass of the Carpates where they had left Gallus. This way they were less likely to cross paths with the Hun horde. But that meant crossing into Athanaric’s territory. A lesser of two evils by a sliver.