Vengeance

CHAPTER ELEVEN

What followed was a very obvious argument and one in which neither Flavius nor Ohannes were part; there were clearly divided opinions about what to do and the disagreements were fierce, all carried out in their native tongue. The only indication of which way matters were swaying came from the looks aimed in their direction by Dardanies. Sometimes they were gloomy, at other times curious, the sole exception being when he became part of the discussion and was seen to be protesting.

‘These people must be able to speak some Latin,’ Flavius whispered: that had to be the case, based on their having lived so long and in such close proximity to the border.

‘Daresay,’ Ohannes replied, his voice normal, as Dardanies shot him an irritated look for having the temerity to speak, ‘but why should they? Satisfying us is not what this is about. They are seeking what is best for their own tribe.’

Back and forth it went; sometimes it seemed to the pair watching as if one or two of these tribal elders might come to actual blows, so fierce were the physical gestures. At times hands shot out pointing in different directions, which Flavius interpreted as the choice between the Huns and Senuthius, while seeking to work out what option was gaining ground.

On it went until finally it seemed two of the trio had worn down the arguments of the one most voluble and dramatic in his gestures, another turning to Dardanies to bark at him, which had the recipient shaking his head, not in any kind of refusal. Their captor looked, if anything, miserable and it was, naturally, he who spoke.

‘A decision has been reached.’ He paused and addressed his superiors once more in his own tongue, giving the impression of wishing to confirm something before he spoke. ‘They are not as one.’

‘Tell that in any language,’ Ohannes hissed.

Dardanies responded furiously. ‘It would do you well to hold your tongue.’

‘Best obey,’ Flavius responded, nudging Ohannes and giving Dardanies a look of understanding, before adding, ‘He does not wish you to think he is fearful.’

‘Just as well, for he has no cause to be, not that I think what has been decided is right.’

‘It would be a kindness to tell us what that is.’

‘You are to be taken back over the river.’

‘No kindness there,’ Ohannes spat.

‘Not to be given over to Senuthius Vicinus, which is the course I would adopt, but to be sent on south to a point where you can make your way without fear.’

‘Not the Huns?’

‘No.’

‘Am I allowed to ask why?’

That got a sigh bordering on resignation. ‘Our elders think it beneath us to send you back to a certain death and a painful one, while to just sell you into slavery would demean the memory of your father, who, even if he was Roman, tried to keep in check the worst instincts of those who wished to profit from our weaknesses.’

He gestured to the trio of elderly men, still scowling, but from time to time, as Dardanies spoke, including him in their disapproval. ‘You will not know this, but many times, when our hotheads disobeyed the decrees of our tribe and crossed the river, they fell into the hands of your family.’

‘I know that,’ Flavius replied.

It had hardly been a secret in his house when the cohort had some success, just as it had been acknowledged that the achievements had been against numbers insufficient to really trouble a body of professional soldiers.

‘It was said your father only killed when he had to.’

‘No Roman would do otherwise.’

The reply was sharp and it was clear by their expressions that the elders did speak some Latin, certainly enough to understand the statement made by Flavius, as well as the pride with which it had been delivered.

‘How little you know of your own kind, but boys, I suppose, must be allowed their dreams.’

Two nods, one furious shake of the head, then a remark from one of the elders that was clearly an instruction to get on with it, possibly that explanations were not necessary. Dardanies, however, seemed determined to keep providing the rationale for what had been concluded.

‘Sometimes, when he could, your father sent them back to us as a gesture of peace.’

That Flavius did not know; as he tried to disguise his surprised reaction, he was sure the Sklaveni, all four of them, had picked up on it. Somehow it seemed to please them.

‘So, it would be dishonourable for us to choose a way of proceeding that would harm you.’

‘And me?’ Ohannes demanded, still with a tone of defiance that was not appropriate.

‘You matter only in that Flavius Belisarius is too young to be set free without help.’

The youngster glanced at the Scythian to see if he was rendered grateful or annoyed; there was no evidence of either and he was required to look away. Dardanies was still speaking, this time in a tone of voice that utterly lacked cheer.

‘For the same reason I have been given the task of seeing you to a place of safety.’

‘How will you deal with Senuthius?’

‘It has ever been our approach to deal with that swine as little as is possible.’

A stream of instructions issued from one of the elders, to be countered with objections by Dardanies, yet as an argument it lacked any vigour until, abruptly, the older men left. That they did not go far, or that their dispute was far from laid to rest was obvious, given they could be heard still arguing through the soft sod walls, this as Dardanies explained what they had planned.

‘The longer we wait the more chance that word of your capture will get back to Senuthius. Therefore we will cross the river as soon as we are sure it is safe, with enough of an escort to deal with any patrols the senator has out. That done, I will carry on with you until you are well away from danger.’

‘Where will we cross?’ Flavius asked.

Dardanies seemed surprised by the question. ‘Where it is safe to do so.’

‘There is something on the southern shore I must collect.’

It was Ohannes who objected. ‘There’s no time for searching.’

‘If there is not time for that then I will not go until there is.’

‘You will go,’ Dardanies snapped, ‘when we say you will go.’

‘I will not!’

That produced on the face of the Sklaveni warrior a smile larded with curiosity. ‘If I tell that to the men who have just departed it may alter their decision.’

‘So be it.’

‘Best tell him what it is,’ Ohannes said with a sigh.

Which Flavius did, starting with the letters he had found and what they portended, which could not be anything other than beneficial to the Sklaveni: the possible impeachment of Senuthius and not only an end to his raiding for slaves but a warning to others not to take up what the senator might be damned for. He made no mention of his father’s testament, given that would do nothing to sway Dardanies, but to him it was something just as vital that he recover.

‘And where is this sack?’

‘Hanging in an oak tree, high in the branches and out of sight from the ground.’

The eyebrows went up. ‘An oak tree where?’ The lack of a response from the youngster was eloquent enough to have Dardanies actually burst out laughing, for it obviously implied ignorance, Flavius responding quickly that he had left more than one sign as to the location.

‘Visible in the dark?’

Tempted as he was to lie, Flavius had to tell the truth, which he did with a shake of the head. Even with a full moon and complete starlight he had no certainty that the sign he had left, his breastplate, would be visible and nor did he know if the group of pebbles had been found and either disturbed or removed.

‘Do you know how many oaks there are on the banks of the Danube?’ Another shake of the head: to even guess would be foolish, which explained the mordant tone of what came next. ‘If I blindfolded you, cast a javelin full force into a hayrick, then asked you to find it, what chance do you think you would have?’

‘It is vital that I have those letters.’

‘Being vital does not make it possible.’

‘I do not ask that you accompany me, what I do ask is that you give Ohannes and I the time to seek it out and recover it.’

‘Have you thought to ask me, Master Flavius?’ Ohannes snapped.

‘I hope you will aid me in this, as you have in everything else, Ohannes, but if you decline …’

The Scythian produced an expression, the one with which he had responded to statements like that from Flavius before, aiming to tell him he was getting above himself. Stubbornness won out over being respectful.

‘If need be I will go on my own.’

‘One of these days, Master Flavius, you are going to issue that threat an’ I am going to let you do as you wish.’

‘But not now?’

Ohannes looked pointedly at Dardanies. ‘Not for me to decide now, is it?’

They exchanged a hard mutual stare for a second, before the Sklaveni exited, his voice soon joining those of the elders who were still in disagreement.

‘They’re off again,’ Ohannes scoffed, as the voices went up a notch.

‘How can I convince you that those letters are vital, Ohannes?’

‘You can’t, ’cause I don’t see things the same way as you. It’s all very well seeking to preserve the memory of your papa, Master Flavius, but it makes no sense, as I have sought to tell you more than once, to get yourself killed in the process. That is my opinion and has ever been. Matters will take their course an’ if you can affect them all well and good, but to do that you must have breath in your body and blood running through your veins. So staying whole is the most important thing and that is what you must set your mind to doing.’

The two were staring at each other – it seemed as if they were silently seeking some truth as yet unstated – when the light that permitted this was doused by the re-entry, through the doorway, of Dardanies and the elders.

‘They wish to question you.’

Which they did, showing that in at least two cases their Latin was of a standard that did not require Dardanies to translate. Only one struggled and he seemed the least inclined to think the letters of any importance. Yet it was obvious the other pair saw matters differently, very much in the way that Flavius had sought to persuade Dardanies. As the questions flew back and forth the youngster realised just how right his father had been.

These people wanted peace and security and it was not from fear. Along with the decorations they wore there was clear evidence that these grey-hairs had been active warriors and they had the scars to prove it. The notion of a body that might impeach and bring to a halt the depredations of Senuthius was as attractive to them as it had been to Decimus Belisarius. Finally, questioning over, they left the hut again, to once more continue their discussions outside, until a peremptory command was issued for Dardanies to join them. He was gone for not more than a minute and on returning he gave Flavius a look, accompanied by a miniscule shaking of his head that lifted his spirits.

‘These letters of yours are things my elders wish to see.’

‘So we must find them.’

‘Sadly yes, which means we must risk our bodies by seeking out the spot where you hid them, for that must be undertaken in the light of day.’

‘I have not felt that God was on my side since the day my family was cruelly slaughtered …’ Flavius paused then, suddenly aware that he had made no enquiries as to how many of the Sklaveni tribe had taken part in the raid that led to their deaths. ‘Were you part of that?’

‘Part of what?’ Dardanies asked guardedly.

‘The majority of those who raided across the river were, I think, Huns …’ He had to pause; Ohannes had gifted him with a sharp jab in the ribs, but he was not to be put off. ‘But not all. How many of your tribe took part?’

‘Some.’

‘And you?’

‘It matters not,’ Ohannes insisted.

‘It matters to me,’ Flavius said, looking right at the Sklaveni, ‘especially if I am to put my trust and my life in your hands.’

If Dardanies was made uncomfortable, which he seemed to be, he soon found a way to deflect that with a question of his own. ‘Does it not occur to you, Flavius Belisarius, to ask why such a raid was ever mounted?’

‘Hun greed.’

‘Truly they are that, but was it enough?’

‘I do not follow.’

The reply was given in a mordant tone and one that implied some kind of knowledge. ‘No, you do not.’

‘You have yet to answer my question, Dardanies,’ Flavius said, his mind too fixed on his own preoccupation to pursue any other avenue. ‘Did you join with them?’

‘It was too good an opportunity to let pass.’

‘A chance to kill Romans?’

‘You praised my knowledge of Latin. How does a warrior of the Sklaveni get that?’

‘By being captured?’ That got a nod. ‘Were you a slave?’

‘Perhaps you are not a fool after all, Flavius Belisarius. Perhaps one day I will show you the scars you get from a Roman master who takes pleasure in punishment. And let me tell you, before I do, that I have never met anyone so devoted to the God you just sought to invoke when you spoke of your family.’

‘How close were you to my father and brothers when they were …?’ He could not finish, could not say the word ‘killed’.

‘Nowhere near, but do not doubt if I had been I would have used my weapons in the same manner as the Huns who did cut them down.’

‘And you have been chosen to get me to somewhere safe.’

‘I have been commanded to do so and it is not a duty I relish.’

‘Perhaps I might have to pay the price for your hatred of Rome?’

‘No, Master Flavius,’ Ohannes interjected. ‘This man will not harm you.’

‘I might, fellow, but only if we meet after I have discharged the task given to me.’

‘How can you be sure, Ohannes?’

‘Perhaps he will tell you.’

‘Better coming from you, Greek.’

‘Neither Greek nor Roman,’ the Scythian replied forcefully. ‘Not that it makes much odds, since I was a soldier of the empire.’

Then he turned to Flavius. ‘If he was minded to cut your throat, Master Flavius, he would have taken on the mission he has been given with glee. I might not know a word of his tongue but I can read a face and what I saw was a man in despond.’

‘Enough,’ Dardanies snapped. ‘If we are to take a boat out on the river and be in plain sight of the southern bank, you Flavius Belisarius need to be disguised and that includes hiding those bruises on your face that make you look like an owl.’ He laughed then, a loud hoot. ‘Might be best to dress you up as a woman.’

There was sheer pleasure for Dardanies then, provided by the reaction those words received; Flavius, on the cusp of manhood, was deeply offended.

The disguise was flour mixed with water and plastered around his eyes, added to a hooded smock that, pulled well forward, hid much of his face from view. It was less that he might be spotted from the riverbank than that they were bound to pass other boats on the constantly fished-upon river, where a sort of truce existed. Each person seeking to cast a net, whichever side be they from, was, unless open conflict was in progress, left in peace.

Much of the day had already gone so, with the sun beginning to sink towards the level of the treetops and using the boat Ohannes had acquired by terror, they set out, Flavius laying low in the bow. Dardanies and the Scythian did the rowing, harder against the flow of the river, the latter with his previous cack-handedness until instruction had him working his stick with competence if not skill.

The Sklaveni knew the river well and was good at identifying landmarks on both banks, asking a stream of questions about the time they had taken to cross. That neither knew, just as they had no precise idea as to from where they had set off. With little to aid him and the light fading and it being useless to search in darkness, that first evening produced no result.

Once more beached on the northern shore, they made their way back to the hut, Ohannes and Flavius to spend the night under guard, Dardanies going off to wherever it was he resided, returning before dawn. They were soon once more out on the river, working from the point at which they had previously abandoned the search. Spotting one of the watchtowers that had lined the river since the time of Hadrian, Flavius knew they had gone too far, so they reversed their course.

‘It would aid us to be closer to the shore,’ he suggested.

Dardanies was wary and with good reason, given he did not know what Senuthius had set in motion – everything he could muster, he supposed, given that, according to his young captive, he might stand to lose the same should Flavius Belisarius survive.

‘He must know by now that you did not go south but either crossed the river or are in hiding on his side. Why else would he seek to reward us for your capture?’

‘We have seen no one looking.’

The reply was brusque, with a sharp nod towards the densely wooded shore they were presently passing. ‘That does not mean they are not there.’

It was a flash of sunlight, suddenly breaking through a gap in the tree canopy, that caught one of the decorative motifs on Flavius’s breastplate – a glint, no more, and in time a blink of the human eye. This had the youngster pointing, his voice less excited than his motion as he nailed the contradiction in the Sklaveni’s reservations.

‘How are we to get possession of it if we do not land?’ Flavius said, as he cast his eyes up to examine the trees, several of them oaks, prepared to exaggerate what he could see and identify. ‘I think I see the very tree there!’

The oars being swiftly backed, the boat came to a standstill, the sticks used to keep it in place as the wooded bank was examined. They were searching for any movement, acutely aware that if they had been spotted, to observe any would be unlikely; anyone wishing them harm would stay still until they landed. It was also true there was little choice, so Dardanies having checked with Flavius, at a word the oars were lifted and dipped, and very gently employed to take them close to the shore.

‘Take up my spear,’ Dardanies said, he being armed, obviously directed to Flavius since he was not rowing.

The youngster lifted it and for a moment he exchanged a look with the Sklaveni and it was one full of meaning. Were you really nowhere near my father and brothers when they were cut down, it asked? Will you keep to your task when taking Ohannes and me south or will you seek to kill us as soon as you are out of sight of your elders, and thus get vengeance on Rome?

‘Ever thrown a spear from off of a boat before?’

‘No.’

‘Then brace yourself well and aim high, for it will move under your feet.’

Those words broke the spell, which had Flavius, spear on his good shoulder and feet braced by the timbers, looking hard at the shore until he used the point for a second to indicate the now visible breastplate stuck in the roots of the riverside trees.

‘There!’

‘Pull hard on my word, then lift clear!’

Dardanies snapped this command to Ohannes which, when carried out, propelled the prow towards a strand of pebbles. He immediately shipped his oar and took out his sword to leap ashore as soon as the keel ground on the stones, there to stand ready to fight if anyone appeared. After a pause he turned to put his finger to his lips and to show them the palm of his hand, thus ordering silence and stillness, a pose he held for what seemed an age, until some birds began to sing.

They would have been alarmed at their noisy arrival, but with the boat and its occupants still, their tweeting sent a sign to tell all three that no one else was moving within the woods, that driven home by the sudden silence as soon as Flavius came ashore to look for his pile of pebbles, his feet crunching on the stones. He found them quickly and gestured to Dardanies that he had done so.

‘Then find that damned sack,’ the Sklaveni growled, relieving him of the spear. ‘And be quick.’

Which Flavius did, climbing as quickly as pain allowed, the sack grabbed from his hands as soon as he came back to the ground; he also waded into the water to retrieve his breastplate.