Legionary

Chapter 71

Pavo leant over the prow of the imperial flagship as it cut its way, full sail, through the waters of the Pontus Euxinus. The salt spray stung his eyes, but he could not tear himself from this unblemished view of the northern horizon. Gallus had been right to send them to the emperor and the emperor alone.

Valens had proved to be a shrewd thinker. He had played along with the bishop’s plan for the Bosporus mission, but a seemingly costly insurance policy of having two legions on standby had proved a cheap premium given the turn of events. Before dawn had broken, the fleets had set sail; Pavo and his party along with the contingent of some two thousand men from the garrison of Constantinople itself had set off from the city docks. Then before sun up they had rendezvoused with the fleets of the I Italica and the XII Fulminata. Some seven thousand legionaries had been tasked with racing to the wilderness of Bosporus to slam the gates to the empire firmly shut. Yet they were still massively outnumbered, and time ticked against them.

‘You and Sura did a top job, Pavo,’ Felix said, resting on a crutch beside him. ‘Don’t punish yourself for what happens next. It’s a miracle we’ve made it this far.’

‘It all counts for nothing though, doesn’t it? If we get back there to find another pile of corpses and the Huns have gone, then what? They’ll fall upon our borders before long while we’re scratching our heads, hundreds of miles away.’

‘The papyrus-thin frontiers? Yep, I’m with you,’ the optio sighed. ‘But take heart, Centurion Gallus is no mug, and he trusts in us. So he’ll have held out…will be holding out till the very last.’ Felix rested a hand on his shoulder before hobbling off.

Pavo turned away from the spray at last, his eyes red and his nose running. The boat was packed with idle legionaries while the oars remained retracted and the crew scrambled up and down the rigging. His gaze fell on Spurius, sitting on the deck, throwing dice with the seven of the I Dacia contingent who had survived the mission to the emperor. Spurius had been quiet since his last-minute intervention at the palace gates, quiet but contented. Maybe this was the real Spurius, he mused?

‘Funny how things turn out, eh?’ Sura spoke quietly having sidled up next to him.

‘Makes you wonder who you can really trust in the end. Nothing is as it seems.’

‘Think you could be friends?’

‘I don’t think Spurius ever really has friends — he’s a loner. I think he tolerates people rather than likes them.’

‘Well I’m glad he tolerates us now — no more looking over our shoulders.’

‘When one problem is solved, Sura, I usually find another one pretty quickly,’ Pavo sighed. ‘And we’ve got a pretty big one to deal with when we land.’

‘Aye, and there’s another one,’ Sura nodded to the solitary white-cloaked figure of Bishop Evagrius, sentinel-like at the stern. ‘You think he’s really tangled in this?’

‘It stinks, Sura. But Valens knew what he was doing in sending him here. Either he’ll inspire the legions with divine inspiration, or he’ll destroy himself. You know the saying give ‘em enough rope?’

Tribunus Vitus of the XII Fulminata stalked towards them. ‘Not long now, lads,’ he mused, craning his neck at the sun overhead.

‘We’ll be there by mid-afternoon — if the gods are smiling upon us.’

Pavo shot another glance at the bishop and smirked wryly at the tribunus’ choice of words.