The Fort

XXIX

‘LET’S KILL HIM and get out of here,’ the leader jerked a thumb at Ferox. ‘Bastard will only get in the way and slow us down.’ The centurion had his hands tied behind his back and was astride a mule. Above them the clouds were heavy with rain, and the air seemed thick with the scent of flowers.

‘The general wanted to see him,’ Ivonercus insisted. ‘That’s my orders.’

‘Orders!’ The leader leaned to the side and spat, then cursed his horse when it shied. ‘Piss on orders! Didn’t run from the legion just to be ordered about by some ape of a barbarian.’

‘The Lord Diegis was very clear—’

‘Diegis! That useless bastard!’ The leader tried to spit again, but his lips were too dry. ‘Marcus, the wine!’ he called to one of the other riders, before taking the proffered wine-sack and raising it high, spilling as much as he drank. For all his long hair and beard the man still looked like the legionary he had once been before deserting to the Dacians almost a decade ago. For one thing, Ivonercus thought, he rode with all the grace of a sack tied up with string.

‘Forget Diegis! Can’t you use your eyes?’ They were riding down the valley, and all the while passing warriors going the other way. Some were in groups and some on their own, and some still had weapons and shields, but many did not. All walked or rode, heads bowed, exhausted and silent. ‘Or have you never seen an army in rout? That daft sod Diegis has fought the legions and taken a kicking.’ There was almost pride in the man’s voice. ‘Diegis has lost, and from all I’ve seen old Decebalus doesn’t take too kindly to chieftains who lose. What Diegis thinks about anything ain’t going to matter.’

‘I do what I’m told,’ Ivonercus said stubbornly. ‘The general said bring the prisoner to him, so that’s what I’m doing. You don’t have to come with us.’

‘No, I don’t,’ the leader said dubiously. He and his five men had joined them late in the afternoon, carrying a message from Sarmizegethusa. ‘Look, it’s nearly dark. Let’s stop and cook something to eat. The army’s coming back this way so Diegis will be along sometime if he’s still alive. How about it? I can’t let you wander, mate, you know that. Not until I’m sure you are with us.’

‘I’m in no hurry,’ Ivonercus lied, nodding to Vepoc. The two Brigantians jumped down from their horses. ‘No food for that bugger, though!’ he said, pointing at Ferox.

‘My thoughts exactly,’ the leader agreed. He walked his mount over to the centurion and pushed him hard on the shoulders so that he slipped and thumped onto the grass. ‘Bastard centurions.’

Ferox lay where he had fallen as the others made a fire and cooked a stew. Deserters or not, they still mixed biscuit, onions and salted bacon soldier fashion. The men passing now were more talkative, and he was surprised that they were not drawn by the scent of cooking.

‘Best get a move on, boys,’ they called. ‘The Romans’ll be here soon and spill your guts out, full belly or no.’

‘Think we better go?’ Ivonercus sounded nervous. The sun had appeared briefly as it set and the gloom gathered around them. They had settled down a few hundred yards from the main track, and could barely see the dark shapes of men retreating along it. A couple of oak trees spread their arms above them, and should give some shelter when the rain came.

‘No hurry. Be a few more hours before any of the bastards turn up. You can trust me, because sure as Hercules’ cock I don’t intend to be taken.’ The leader tried a sip of the stew and winced. ‘Nearly ready. If there is no sign of Diegis and his chieftains soon then we’ve done all we can and can turn around. Start asking people whether they’ve seen him, just so we can say we tried our best. Come on, you can’t have been long in the sacramentum if you don’t know how to slack off.’

‘They made me join,’ Ivonercus said. ‘And I only stayed as long as I did to get a chance to kill him.’ He nodded towards the prostrate Ferox.

‘Do it, lad, we won’t say anything.’

‘My orders,’ Ivonercus insisted. ‘Bring him to Diegis. Maybe once they’ve beaten some truth out of him, they’ll let me have what is left.’

‘Why wait? He’s here. We’ll say he tried to escape and it had to be done.’ He grinned. ‘Look at the way the bastard’s lying still and not moving? That’s a bugger trying to escape if ever I saw one.’

Ferox sat up.

‘Even worse, he’s about to make a break for it. Evil-looking bastard, isn’t he.’

Ivonercus stood up and his hand went to the hilt of his spatha. ‘You don’t mind?’ The sword scraped on the bronze top of the scabbard as he pulled it free.

‘Why should we? Kill the bastard.’

‘That’s not what we were told to do,’ Vepoc said doubtfully, but he stood and also drew his sword.

‘Shall I do it?’ the leader asked. ‘Be a pleasure.’

‘No,’ Ivonercus said. ‘My oath, my revenge.’ He swished the blade through the air, hefting the weapon in his hand. ‘I have waited a long time for this.’

‘If you are sure, lord?’ Vepoc hefted his own sword.

‘Lord?’ the leader asked. ‘Just who are you?’

Lightning sprang down from the clouds and just a few moments later the great booming roar of thunder rolled over them. Big drops of rain pattered on the leaves above their heads.

Ivonercus spun and drove the spatha through the man’s beard and into his throat. Vepoc swung down, hacking into the skull of another deserter, who fell forward into the fire. Sparks flew and the other three were shouting and reaching for their weapons. Two died quickly, the Brigantes cutting them down, and the last tried to run past Ferox, who stuck out his legs to send the man sprawling. Vepoc wandered over and thrust down into the deserter’s back, twisting the blade until the man stopped moving. His hair was slicked down by the driving rain.

‘I don’t think anyone has seen us,’ he shouted to Ivonercus to make himself heard. Lightning flashed again, and for an instant he saw hundreds, perhaps thousands, of Dacians plodding up the valley.

Ferox managed to get up, hands still tied and the two Brigantes moved to be on either side of him. The thunder boomed out again, a little further away. Ivonercus wiped his spatha on his trousers and sheathed the sword only to draw a knife.

‘Do you trust us now, centurion?’ he called as he cut the bonds, using the language of the tribes.

‘You are Brigantes,’ Ferox shouted. ‘The Brigantes keep faith. This I have always known. You are held by your oath.’

‘We are, but the queen is queen and if I doubted her before I do not now. We are her people and will follow her and obey, wherever it leads us.’

‘That is why I have trusted you,’ Ferox said. ‘And have been pleased to have you by my side.’

Vepoc nodded. All of their eyes were stinging from the rain.

‘You have done more than enough if you wish to leave me,’ Ferox said. It was two nights since they had left Piroboridava, Ferox creeping ahead of the others to kill two guards. Apart from that, it had been easy getting away, for almost all of the attackers were marching down the valley and the ones left behind were deep in exhausted sleep. Sosius had slipped off almost immediately, and although Ferox did not trust the man, he felt easier in his mind not having him with them. Perhaps the slave was dead or perhaps he would reach the Roman army before them, but none of that was up to him.

It was much harder getting through the Dacian army, and for a long time they had stuck to the woodland on the south slopes of the valley, going slowly and keeping out of sight. In the first day they went barely seven miles, having to hide more than once when bands passed nearby. The second morning their luck had turned when they saw a pack mule, which must have got loose and strayed to the edge of the forest, and soon afterwards two horsemen searching for it. Ferox had suspected that the men were less than enthusiastic about the battle, so taking their time about their errand. The ambush was quick and easy and Ivonercus had suggested that they pose as deserters in the king’s service, bringing a prisoner to Diegis, for that would mean that they could ride in the open and go faster. They had talked their way past everyone they encountered, until they had fallen in with the deserters who had clung to them for the rest of the day.

‘The queen will count your service more than fulfilled, and see your families restored to lands and honour,’ Ferox said.

‘We have come this far,’ Vepoc called.

‘And done it well, but getting to our army will not be easy, and we may well fall at the hands of our own men. If I am killed, they may not believe that you are loyal to Rome and treat you as traitors and deserters.’

‘Hold up your arm, prince of the Silures,’ Ivonercus said. Both he and Vepoc were rolling up their right sleeve.

‘This is an honour,’ Ferox told him, and his face was lit up by another flash of lightning. He took the knife and ran it across his skin, making a line of blood that instantly washed away. Vepoc took the knife and did the same, then held up his arm so that Ferox pressed his against it. The knife went to Ivonercus.

‘Before I do this, I must ask whether the king died well.’

‘He did,’ Ferox shouted. ‘Aviragus fought like a prince and a man, and it was a fair fight for he had more warriors on his side than we did.’

‘So be it.’ Ivonercus drew blood and joined it to the centurion’s cut. ‘The old oath is no more, and a new one binds us to you and you to us. It is done.’

Drenched to the skin, the three men stood, arms pressed together until the two Brigantes, as if on a signal, stepped back.

‘Remember this, Roman or Silure or whatever you call yourself. This is a bond of warriors, a pledge always to fight at the other’s side whatever the cost.’

‘I understand.’

‘Then we should go,’ Ivonercus said. ‘If we run across Dacians I shall talk. If they are Romans, then it is up to you.’

‘Fine,’ Ferox agreed. ‘But one last time I beg you to stay here and wait for me. There is no need for you to take this risk, so I beg you as brothers to wait. If the Romans come this way and you have not heard from me then ride to them and tell your story if you wish, but let me try on my own first.’

Vepoc put his hand on Ferox’s shoulder. ‘We will come with you, whatever you say.’

‘The Brigantes are a stubborn people.’

‘And the Silures rarely give their word, but when they do, they keep it, is that not so?’ Vepoc said.

It was strange to hear the same proverb twice within a few days.

‘Then if we fall, it will not be your fault,’ Ivonercus told him. ‘Nor will we live and wonder whether we might have saved you had we not stayed behind.’

‘We’re coming, brother, whether you like it or not,’ Vepoc said, and his tone reminded Ferox of Vindex and made him wonder once again whether the scout and all the others were still alive.

‘Let’s go then,’ Ferox said.