‘He is a brave man, my lord.’
‘Of course he is, he is an eques and an officer.’ There was just enough hint of irony to show that he was not serious, although no one smiled apart from Ovidius. ‘What about his judgement? Is he a scaremonger?’
‘It is not my place to comment on a senior officer, my lord.’ Ferox saw Crispinus roll his eyes.
There was a flash of anger and that surprised him, because in the past the legate had seemed very much in control of his emotions. ‘It is your place if I say it is!’ Neratius Marcellus turned, took three paces away from him and then spun around again. ‘Hercules’ balls, man, this is no time for playing dumb. I know you, and you are not short of ideas or disposed to doubt your own views. You think Super is a fool?’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘At last.’ The governor went back to the table and drummed his fingers on the wood. ‘My impression was that you felt your superior officer to be a drooling imbecile who despised the Britons and had all the subtlety of a kick to the stomach.’
‘A kick in the gut can be effective, my lord,’ Ferox said, but he was wondering about the tense, for the legate was a man of precise speech. ‘In the right circumstances, that is.’
The legate reached for a wooden tablet and opened the folded sheets. ‘Yesterday I received a message from Claudius Super saying that there were worrying signs among the Selgovae and that he feared trouble. He asked that you be sent to join him along with those scouts of yours. Presumably he thought that it would be advantageous to have someone who plays dumb and avoids answering questions.’ Ovidius chuckled again, ignoring the disapproving glances of the officer beside him.
‘This morning I receive a new message to say that he fears that druids and priests are abroad, stirring up rebellion. He worries that that rogue Acco is at large.’ The big room with its high ceiling suddenly seemed cold. ‘Ah, perhaps I have your attention at last. Have you heard anything about that fiend lately?’
‘No, my lord. Nothing at all.’
‘Hmmm. It is probably too much to hope that he has gone away for good. But does that mean you would be surprised if he turned up now, among the Selgovae?’
Ferox tried to think. Acco was clever and good at concealing his presence. Had there been signs that he had missed? ‘I have not heard anything, my lord.’
‘It seems Claudius Super had, or at least thought that he had. Rumours of magic and dreadful sacrifices of men and women. Because of this I was intending to summon you anyway, and was simply waiting for your Brigantians to arrive. Orders summoning them were sent yesterday.’
‘They are here, my lord.’
‘Really. No one tells me anything. I’m just the legatus augusti, of course, no one important.’ A soldier marched into the room, handing a note to one of the clerks. The man took the wooden sheet, nodded for the man to leave, and then looked up.
‘The scouts have arrived, my lord.’
‘Ah, the slow turning wheels of bureaucracy get there in the end.’ Neratius Marcellus gave a thin smile. ‘I should not joke, not at a time like this.’
‘Surely laughter is most needed at a time like this.’ Ovidius’ voice was thin, but clear.
‘Philosophy. Well, we shall need more than that – and more than bad jokes as well.’ The legate stretched his arms as if yawning. He stayed in the pose, staring up at the ceiling. Ferox wondered why Roman aristocrats had to turn everything into a performance.
‘Half an hour ago a pair of troopers arrived. One was wounded badly, and I fear the poor fellow will not make it. The other one is babbling of ghosts and demons.’
‘Has the regionarius sent another message, my lord?’ Ferox asked, although he did not doubt the answer.
‘Not as such.’ The comment came from Crispinus, who seemed to have been encouraged by Ovidius’ efforts at levity.
Neratius Marcellus brought his arms back down to his sides. ‘Not as such,’ he repeated. ‘The poor bastard.’
‘They killed him?’ Ferox wanted them all to get on with the matter, but he sensed that the legate was delaying and perhaps the man was trying to make up his own mind about what to do before he sought advice.
‘If the soldier is to be believed,’ Ovidius said, since the rest had fallen silent, ‘somebody burned him alive.’
XI
FEROX FELT NOTHING. He thought of his last encounter with Claudius Super, of the man’s desperate efforts to be fair and honest after years of open scorn. It was odd how people often believed that they could change the past with a few words or a gesture. Yet perhaps it had worked, for he had long considered Claudius Super as his enemy, a dangerous man who needlessly stirred situations into violence. Now the man was gone, but there was no satisfaction at the death of an enemy, or guilt because in the past he had so often wished the man ill. No doubt they would appoint an even bigger fool to replace him.
‘For the moment, assuming that the man is telling the truth, you will assume the duties of senior regionarius.’ The legate had stepped towards him. Few men could intimidate when they were forced to look up at someone, but the provincial governor came close.
‘Huh,’ said the bigger fool.
‘I beg your pardon, centurion?’
‘A cough, sir. Sorry, sir. I meant to say that I shall be delighted to serve the legate in whatever way he wishes.’
‘It was not so long ago that druids wanted to seize the Prefect Cerialis and his esteemed wife to burn in the fire. Do you think this is an attempt at some similar sacrifice?’
Ferox was not sure what to think. ‘Hard to say, my lord. Then they wanted the blood of a king and queen. A centurion is not so important. Until I take a look we shall not know whether or not it was a sacrifice. The Selgovae can be cruel. It may just have struck them as the right thing to do to an enemy in their hands.’
The legate sighed. ‘Barbarians.’
‘If I am not mistaken, at this very moment prisoners are being thrown to the wild beasts.’ Ovidius was staring down at the table.
‘As an object lesson,’ Neratius Marcellus intoned, fully aware of the irony. ‘Not for religion or mere cruelty.’
He ignored the muttered ‘That makes all the difference, of course,’ from his friend.
‘Gentlemen, morality is not our main concern at present. It seems that at least some of the Selgovae are restive. As the noble Crispinus has said, the start of the census in their lands always risked provoking trouble.’ Ferox had half forgotten warning the tribune about this all those weeks ago. ‘They have ambushed a detachment of our soldiers, murdered a centurion in an extremely savage way.’
‘This is surely the start of bigger trouble. Yet Fortuna smiles upon us pious Romans, for we happen to have plenty of troops concentrated not far from here for the summer’s manoeuvres. This means that in just a few days I can assemble an expedition big enough to march through the valleys of the Selgovae and smash anyone who dares oppose us. We must prepare the orders to make this happen should it become necessary. Ferox?’
‘My lord.’
‘I shall want you to stay with us as we begin to plan, but in two hours’ time you are to ride out with the scouts and an escort from my singulares to find out as much as you can about what has happened and what will happen. How many men will you need for your escort?’
‘A dozen will do, my lord.’ He would have preferred to take no more than a couple of men to use as couriers, but he doubted that they would agree to that.
‘So few? Claudius Super had twice as many.’
‘I shall have Vindex and his men, my lord. They make a big difference.’
‘As do you, no doubt.’ Neratius Marcellus turned to a clerk. ‘I want eleven of the best men led by a duplicarius. Ensure all are well mounted and have food for three days. Fresh mounts to be provided for the scouts and the centurion. That should do it.’ He gestured at another of the headquarters men. ‘Longus, here, will show you the messages from Claudius Super and the survivor of the ambush.’
/> ‘Thank you, my lord. I should like to speak to the trooper.’
‘Certainly, although I doubt you’ll get much from him. Go with Longus, but be back here as soon as you can for we will need your knowledge.’
‘Yes, my lord. My lord?’
‘I take it centurion, that you are wondering about the whole business. From all you have said about Acco he is shrewd and cunning. So you are wondering whether what he seems to intend and what he actually intends are two very different things. That perhaps he wants to draw me into a hasty attack on the Selgovae, either because more tribes will join them and we may be overwhelmed by sheer numbers? Or perhaps he has mischief planned elsewhere and simply wants us distracted? Were you thinking something like that, and that your governor had no more wit that a newborn child and would not see the possible traps?’ Neratius Marcellus grinned.
‘I was wondering something like that, my lord.’
‘I am glad to hear it, centurion. Now hurry off and be back as soon as you can.’
*
There was little in the messages. Claudius Super had sensed an unease among the tribe. That was something of a surprise, because in the past the centurion had appeared unlikely to have sensed when it was raining. Perhaps the fight at Aballava had made him wary or just plain nervous. The people struck him as hostile, and warriors shadowed his escort, without coming close. His second message told of a farm near the coast that had been burned to the ground, the families living there all killed, their corpses ripped open and mutilated. Super’s mood was reflected in the deep, almost brutal strokes his pen had made, stabbing into the wax and wood behind it.
The report of the survivor was of little use, so Ferox went to the small cubicle where the man was being kept. They had brought him bread, salted meat and wine, but the trooper had touched none of it. He sat on a stool beside the little table, bent over, his hands grasping his face. When Ferox spoke to him, the habit of discipline took over and he sprang to his feet. His eyes stared past the centurion into a distance no one could measure.
‘Report, Trooper Candidus.’ Ferox did not shout, but made it a command, hoping that training would force the man to speak quicker than a show of sympathy. ‘What happened to the rest of you?’
‘Dead, sir. All dead.’
‘You were escort to the centurion?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Helping out with the census. Then a messenger comes from a chieftain asking for help and the centurion takes you towards Uxellum and people there complain of cattle being stolen and blame some of the Novantae. They’re on the border there, so it happens often enough.’ Ferox was piecing together Claudius Super’s reports with some guesses and trying to convince the man that he already knew the answers. ‘You pushed along the coast and just before sunset yesterday find the farm and everyone killed and cut about. All of them, men, women and children.’
Candidus’s eyelids flickered, but he showed no other emotion.
‘You were all angry, and pushed on. Didn’t fancy camping there, did you?’
‘No, sir. Horrible it was.’ For the first time the trooper looked at him.
‘So you found another spot to camp, and you and Dannicus were sent ahead to check on another farm nearer the beach. It was empty?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And as you rode back to the camp you heard the noise?’
‘They were screaming. Shapes darker than the night. Not human, sir, not really, but arms and legs distorted, eyes bulging.’ Candidus was breathing hard, gulping the words out. ‘Blacker than pitch and taller than any man, but flying across the ground faster than bats and shrieking, and our boys screaming as they were cut up. They were dying in front of us, the tents burning, fire everywhere, but the light didn’t show them, they were still just black. Dead men risen up or ghosts or monsters from the deep.’ His eyes were wild, his breath coming in pants and for a while he could not sleep.
Ferox did not see any point in asking how many of them there were. ‘They came for you, then, didn’t they?’
Candidus nodded. ‘Just appeared out of the night. Dannicus threw his spear, which was more than I could do. Hit one square on and it just bounced back. Didn’t slow it, didn’t hurt it, but they screamed at us and there was a whistling sound like the hiss of dragons, and then they stabbed at Dannicus and he cried out and my horse reared and then shot off like the bolt from an engine and Dannicus’ horse must have done the same. We didn’t go through the camp, but close enough to see the centurion being carried in the air. Others were throwing wood onto the fires and something that flared up into the sky. We kept going, riding as hard as we could and we didn’t look back, but we heard him screaming. Some of the others too, and that whistling followed us. And so we rode here.’
Ferox patted the trooper on the shoulder, making the man flinch like a nervous colt. ‘You did well to get away. Try to get some rest.
‘Find somewhere where he can sleep,’ Ferox told Longus.
‘Sir.’ As they left the clerk cleared his throat. ‘Sir? Do you believe all that about demons or ghosts?’
‘Men did the killing,’ Ferox said, and hoped that he was right.
*
At the governor’s consilium they asked him a few questions about places and the local people, but in the main they got on with the planning while he sat and waited. Ovidius had gone, so that there was no one else not doing anything, and he waited in silence.
‘We had better not keep you any longer,’ Neratius Marcellus said at long last. ‘Get something to eat and then get moving. The sooner you return with news the sooner we get to the bottom of all this.’
Crispinus walked with him as he left.
‘I wanted to wish you good luck.’
‘Thank you, my lord. I am guessing someone else will look after the Hibernians while I am away. Oh well, it looks like your expedition over there is unlikely to happen.’
‘We shall see. That all depends on what you find out.’ They were in the courtyard, and for once it was empty. ‘You know that the legate is my uncle?’
‘Yes, my lord, I seem to recall that he mentioned it.’
‘The legate is worried. That campaign against the Stallion was a narrow scrape and might have gone horribly wrong. The emperor still cannot afford a bad defeat anywhere on the frontiers.’
‘He’s ruled for two years now, surely there’s no more talk of challengers?’
Crispinus shook his head. ‘Don’t be naive. There will always be men wanting the throne when they think they have the slightest chance of getting it. Trajan is still not liked, and has not proven himself. And – as you have said so many times – the garrison in Britannia is weaker in numbers than it has ever been, and unlikely to grow anytime soon. We have a good force already gathered, but we cannot afford to “go fishing with a golden hook”, as I believe a certain centurion once said.’
‘I was quoting Caesar Augustus.’
‘I know. Look, I shall not ask you once more to trust me, since that seems to offend you so deeply. But help the legate to make the right choices, and you help Rome. If it is Acco behind all this, then he must be stopped before he commits worse slaughter.’
They went out through the big arch. Vindex was waiting with the scouts, as well as a dozen singulares with their deep blue cloaks. There was a tall black horse saddled and waiting for Ferox.
Crispinus was impressed. ‘One of my uncle’s own,’ he said, nuzzling the animal until it tried to bite him. ‘Shame about Claudius Super. Do you know that he recommended that I be awarded the corona civica? Yes, of course you do. He told me. Not sure it’s much of a rescue if the poor devil gets killed so soon afterwards.’
‘It happens, my lord.’ Ferox grabbed a horn on the saddle and leaped, just managing to swing up. He guessed that the diminutive legate must need a mounting block or someone to lift his leg to climb onto the back of this huge animal. ‘Do not worry, my lord. The recommendation has gone in and it doesn’t matter whether the man who sent it is sti
ll alive. I dare say you’ll get the crown.’
‘Oh yes, I will.’ It was not a boast, merely a statement of fact.
‘Then you had better stay alive to receive it.’ A thought struck him, and he wondered why he had not thought of it before. ‘My lord, are the games to continue tomorrow?’
‘To be quite honest, I have not the slightest idea. They might be delayed, I suppose.’
‘There are a couple of prisoners awaiting execution – two northerners Vindex and I brought in earlier in the year. I’d be glad if they could be kept alive until we return.’
‘I shall see what I can do. Good fortune, Flavius Ferox. You too, you old rogue.’ The tribune waved to Vindex.
‘Cheerful little sod, isn’t he,’ the scout said, as soon as they were out of earshot. ‘So just how badly are we humped this time?’
XII
VINDEX SUCKED THE breath in through his teeth, seemed to be about to say something and then decided against it. All of the men, Brigantes and cavalrymen alike, were just as stunned, so that they said little as they worked. It was the smell that was the worst, seeping into them until nothing else, not even the traces of smoke, the heady blossom or the faint hint of salt was left. There was just the half sweet and half sickly smell of cooked meat starting to rot.
The centurion had not died quickly. Many of the soldiers had been hacked or stabbed as the wave of attackers flooded over the little camp. There had been a lot of attackers. Ferox reckoned fifty or more men had come against Claudius Super and his escort, and they had got very close. The two Roman sentries had died without giving the alarm, so the attackers had crept up on them like men who knew how to use the night. Ferox no longer doubted that they were men, for he could see the prints of their boots, softer and smooth in outline, unlike the hobnailed footwear of the soldiers. Most of the prints were big, but no bigger than his own, and if these were large men, then they were not giants.
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