Legionary

Chapter 52

A roaring fire punctuated the black of night as the grotesque pile of corpses was reduced to ash. All legionaries were posted to the empty houses and halls of the town, and only a few topknotted figures stood around the inferno in silence.

Pavo rested his spear on the battlements and let his eyes rest on the crackling blaze — some brief respite from the monotony of sentry duty and staring out into the blackness of the plains. Amalric the Gothic prince had demanded for the gore-pile to be set alight as a pyre in some last attempt to regain the dignity of the dead. At first, Nerva had steadfastly refused, insisting the thing would be like a beacon to the Huns. Gallus had winced as he stood between the two while the whole legion watched. Pavo replayed the nerve shredding moment when he had been called up from the ranks to explain to Amalric that the Huns had left spies in the town, and that their position was compromised in any case due to the rider who escaped.

Pavo sighed, turning to look out over the blackness in front of him. With only a tiny lantern tucked into the corner of the battlement, the Hun army could be assembled right out there, yet he couldn’t even see the ground from up here. He glanced down at his mail shirt, picking at the gore cladding it had taken on. A tiny piece of matted blood crumbled away, leaving a beautifully unblemished sliver of iron behind it. He pulled the thong with the bronze phalera free of his vest and eyed the writing longingly as always. His mind drifted to the heat wave summer of his childhood in Constantinople.

Sitting on the doorstep facing onto the dusty lane of the slums surrounding the Gate of Saint Aemilianus, Father pummelled the scale vest relentlessly despite the blistering sun beating down on his back. Meanwhile, Pavo had cartwheeled back and forth across the lane from house to house, giggling with his playmates. ‘My father’s going to fight in the legions!’ He had cried, his chest puffed out. ‘My father will be emperor!’ His friends had eagerly joined his child-legion of six — armed with broom handles and wearing caps and bowls on their heads, they had marched on the forum. Or at least as far as the end of the lane.

Pavo smiled, momentarily transported from the cool, dark battlement in this alien land. Then the cold hands of reality traced his spine as the dark memory returned; the gaunt, dead-eyed soldier who dropped the pitiful purse of coins in his hand — announcing the death of his father without a word of solace.

Pavo shivered as a chill breeze washed over him. Enough, he chided himself with a chuckle, stay alert or you’ll be the legion idiot again! He blinked to stare out into the dark plains again, when a pair of hands stabbed into his sides. His heart leapt and his eyes bulged.

‘Allright?’ Sura sniffed.

‘In the name of…what d’you call that? Did you actually get any sentry training?’

‘Relax! Nobody can see diddly squat — we could be over in that inn there — Zosimus claims they found seven unopened casks of ale in the cellar,’ Sura frowned.

‘Aye, a cup of ale and the lash from Nerva — sounds lovely. Have you seen anything…’ Pavo’s voice trailed off as he saw the darkness swim on the ground below. ‘Sura, look!’

The pair clamped their hands on the battlement, peering into the night. There it was; a rider.

‘Who goes there!’ Pavo yelled, grappling his spear. At once, the sentries all along the battlement jumped to attention and the call was echoed.

‘Foederati scout, let me in!’

‘Password?’ A cry came from above the gate.

‘Teutoberg!’ he hissed back.

‘Allright lads, let him in!’ One sentry bawled.

Pavo and Sura craned towards the gate for a better look.

‘Could be Julius Caesar for all we can see,’ Sura tutted as they strayed from their sentry points, screwing their eyes up.

‘He’s a bit late isn’t he?’ Pavo reasoned. Sura nodded with a frown. The sun had set a long time ago — the scout had been due back just after dark.

‘Sura, Pavo!’ a voice barked. Both spun round to see Felix fuming back at them, with Quadratus glaring likewise a few paces back. ‘Is that what Brutus taught you? To be distracted by every coming and going, every little detail? Eyes forward, and stay at your post.’

Pavo jumped to stand upright and stared fastidiously out into the blackness again. Sura scurried fifty paces along the wall to his post to do the same.

Felix sighed. ‘Anyway, you couple of morons, shift’s over; we’re here to relieve you.’

Flitting down the steps, Pavo caught a muffled mumbling from the gate — the jagged twang of the foederati. ‘Move,’ he hissed over his shoulder to Sura, ‘we might get an ear in on the report.’

The pair burst out from the stairwell and into the gatehouse enclosure.

A pair of foederati huddled with the scout rider and they talked in hushed tones in their native tongue. As soon as they noticed the entrance of the pair, they stopped, breaking apart. Two glared stonily at Pavo and Sura.

‘Move on!’ One barked.

‘Wait a moment, you’re in my wing, aren’t you?’ Sura ignored the two and spoke to the rider.

The scout rider’s face was stern at first, and then he broke into a grin. ‘Sura, isn’t it? They’ve got you back on foot duty have they?’ He nodded up to the battlement. ‘Hah, we’ll make a rider of you yet!’

As the rider spoke, Pavo let his eyes drift. Then something caught his eye, a glint of metal on a chain around the rider’s neck. His eyes keened.

‘Did you see me this morning?’ Sura roared. ‘I was ahead of Captain Horsa. You lot were well behind.’

The rider laughed. A warm laugh. But as he did so the chain lifted, and the edge of a dull yellow cross peeked from his breastplate. Something was etched on its surface. The breath froze in Pavo’s lungs.

‘I’ll show you tomorrow, eh?’ Sura concluded, turning to Pavo. The rider roared in laughter again.

‘Come on!’ Pavo hissed.

‘Eh?’ Sura frowned. ‘What about getting a listen in on the report?’

‘Screw the report. Come on!’ He tugged Sura by the elbow and together they stalked away from the gate. At the first corner, Pavo turned in sharply.

Sura glared at him. ‘Well?’

‘That cross,’ Pavo’s eyes darted as he rifled through memory.

Sura frowned. ‘What cross? What are you on about?’

Pavo gripped him by the shoulders ‘There’s no time. We need to speak to the officers. We could be in bigger trouble than we ever imagined.’