Gordas was working a dark-haired scalp absentmindedly with his left hand. “Tell me about the fortifications of the Dacian limes.”
Marcus replied: “Firstly, there is a ditch, fifteen feet wide and nine feet deep. Sharpened stakes are hammered into the bottom. On the far side of the ditch is a stone wall, six feet high and thirty feet wide. On top of that is a dirt rampart, topped with a wooden palisade. If you get that far, a heavily armoured legionary will skewer you with a pilum.”
He wasn’t done yet. “On the inside of the wall runs a Roman road so the legions can get there quickly in case of trouble. The larger forts are not integrated into the wall. They are a few hundred paces behind the wall and are normally manned by auxiliaries. Mostly cavalry. The main function of the limes is to alert the legions of an intrusion, not to stop an army.”
Gordas scowled. “Cai Lun of Serica, how do we break the will of the Romans?"
“Will is difficult to break. Strong will stand on foundation of hope. Take away hope, then all above crumble.”
I smiled then. It did not go unnoticed.
“Domitius, I know that smile. Mars has given you a plan.” He continued carving up the meat.
“Primus Pilus, I suggest we go hunting tomorrow. For wild boar. Afterwards, Vibius and I will break the will of the Romans.”
Hostilius nodded, not looking up. “Sounds good to me.”
I turned to the king. “You have the toughest task, Bradakos. You will have to restrain Tarbus from attacking the fortifications while we are hunting tomorrow.”
Bradakos scowled.
I turned to Gordas. “I do need something else, Gordas. Something that probably only your warriors will be able accomplish.” The Urugundi grinned at the compliment. “Consider it done.”
I refilled all of our cups, then shared my plan.
We feasted on mutton and red wine, retiring early.
The next morning I woke while it was still dark, when a stealthy hand placed a package inside my tent. Gordas had delivered on his promise. With great difficulty I fell asleep again, waking a third of a watch after sunrise.
Hostilius was pacing up and down in front of my tent, itching with anticipation.
“By all the gods, Domitius, it’s near afternoon. I know you have need of the rest, but really?”
He handed me a cold joint of mutton and a cup of well-watered wine. “Eat! We leave when I return with the horses.”
I cut the leather cord which tightly bound the package, revealing a complete set of legionary issue clothing, compliments of Gordas. It would be better not to enquire about the fate of the unfortunate owner.
I had been a legionary for many years, fitting the clothing posed no problem. The garb was on the tight side, but ill-fitting garments were normal within the legions.
When my comrades arrived, I was looking quite the legionary, Cai having trimmed my hair and shaved my beard. Vibius, similarly attired and neatened up, sat on his horse, grinning down at me.
Hostilius handed me Simsek’s reins. I mounted my horse with a jump that would have made a Hun proud. Gordas passed me a boar spear and we galloped off, in search of blood. Quite literally.
We needed blood for the ruse, and boar’s blood is closest to the real thing.
Hostilius and Gordas led the hunt, while Vibius and I hung back at least a hundred paces, conversing in whispers. We rode through densely forested valleys and across shrubby hilltops with no sign of wild boar whatsoever.
After a watch of searching, we found Gordas waiting in a clearing. “We have had no luck. But do not be concerned, we will find something suitable.”
I shook my head in disagreement. “The blood is better to use when the kill is fresh.”
“We can use something we already have.” he countered.
I narrowed my eyes. “Does this ‘thing’ happen to have two legs?”
“Maybe”, he said, scowling. “Does it matter?”
“We will search for a boar”, I said
“You truly are a strange one”, he said, shaking his head. “In battle you are a killer, the equal of which I have never seen. You reap corpses as if you are the god of death himself. Yet, you do not wish for me to kill a man for his blood?” He rode off while muttering incoherently. Huns.
Before long we came across a large family of boar. Hostilius managed to spear a reasonably sized animal. We found him wearing a proud grin, cutting free his spear with a small hand axe.
Vibius and I then went about our business, at last having access to all the fresh blood and guts that we could wish for.
Chapter 13 – Limes Transalutanus
We returned to the vicinity of our camp, but we did not enter, unwilling to risk the possibility of a spy forewarning the Romans of our intentions. Cai met us three miles outside the camp, bearing watered down wine and food. We wolfed down the spitted fowl, cheese and flatbread.
“Bradakos give message. Roxolani and Carpiani ready to attack fort tomorrow. Will do as you ask.”
I nodded. Bradakos had been able to restrain Tarbus.
Hostillius returned to the camp, accompanied by Cai.
Gordas whistled three times and four Urugundi warriors appeared from the mogshade, carrying a prone body, gagged and bound.
I took Gordas aside. “When I signal, take out your dagger and growl. But for the sake of the gods, don’t draw blood.” He scowled. “If I did not know you better, I would have thought you had grown soft.”
Ignoring the jibe, I approached the bound auxiliary, removed the gag and sat down next to him. He could not have seen more than twenty summers. Like Vibius, he had the dark hair and looks common to the eastern provinces.
To his credit he did not beg for mercy, neither did he insult me.
“Answer my questions soldier”, I said in perfect Latin, clearly surprising him, “and you will be free to go.” I glanced at Gordas, who drew his dagger and advanced on the poor boy, growling. “Or I will give you to him.”
He swallowed, without a doubt terrified by my Hun friend. “I… will answer”, he croaked.
It did not take long to gain the knowledge we required. As promised, I would release the boy.
Gordas relayed my instructions to the Hun warriors who appeared displeased with my decision, but they had witnessed, or heard, of what I am capable of when offended. None would dare to displease the favourite of Arash and risk my wrath.
Gordas, Vibius and I mounted, then rode south.
It took us two thirds of a watch to reach our destination, twelve miles to the south.
We hid in the shade of a clump of small shrubby trees until the sun was low in the sky. Only then did we venture forth.
The vegetation was cleared for a distance of two hundred paces on the eastern side of the Limes Transalutanus, leaving little cover for hostile barbarians such as us. We hobbled the horses close by and lay side by side on our stomachs at the edge of the cleared area, studying the fortifications.
The sun disappeared from view, leaving the rampart silhouetted against the fading light on the far side.
The Romans were experts at constructing and manning frontier fortifications. It is no surprise, as they had been doing it for hundreds of years.
The rampart disappeared into the landscape towards the north and south. I knew it stretched along a line of more than a hundred and forty miles. Small garrisons consisting of three contubernia of auxiliaries were housed in forts which dotted the limes, placed at intervals of a mile apart. Unsurprisingly they were referred to as milecastles. Between every two milecastles were located two watchtowers, providing the legionaries with a panoramic view as well as temporary sanctuary in case of an attack.
I could see the legionaries move along the wall and in the towers, the sun reflecting off their armour and spears.
“Behind those walls is the Roman fort they call Urlueni. At any time there are at least a thousand auxiliary infantry stationed there. In addition, they probably have another sixteen turmae of auxiliary cavalry at t
he ready.”
I pointed to a huge stone structure integrated into the wall. It was a massive multi-level fortified gatehouse with twin defensive towers. “There are gates on the inside as well as on the outside. If the gates are breached from this side, they will rain death from above on anyone trying to get to the inner gates.”
Gordas grunted. “We could breach the wall, but it would cost us the lives of hundreds of brave warriors.”
“It will not be necessary, my friend. Before the sun sets tomorrow you will ride through those gates.”
Gordas grinned with anticipation. “I will look after your horses. May Arash protect you.” With that he crawled away, melting into the undergrowth.
Vibius and I waited until darkness had settled in before we moved. A gusty wind blew from the east as we slowly approached the wall. Our legionary armour and weapons were carefully wrapped and tied to our backs to minimise the chance of jingling armour alerting the watchers to our presence.
We moved slowly and at my signal remained motionless for extended periods. In the dark, motion attracts attention. If a shape remains still, it is near invisible.
When we were fifty paces from the wall, we went down onto our stomachs and carefully inched closer. I touched Vibius’s arm as a signal for him to stop.
Only thirty paces away, elevated above us, stood a sentry, motionless as a statue. He was silhouetted against the night sky. It was impossible to tell whether he had been alerted to our presence. For all we knew he could be sleeping. The only thing we could do was wait.
After what seemed like an eternity, I heard the sound of footsteps approaching.
“Lucius, is everything in order?” a voice boomed. I nearly choked and had to bite my tongue at the sound of my name being called.
“All in order, centurion. Nothin’ to report. Thought I noticed somethin’ earlier, but you know how it is. There’s always vermin or somethin’ crawling out there lookin’ for food, isn’t it?”
“You’ve stood in one place for too long, that’s why you’re seeing things. Walk down to Fulvius and back. I will guard this section for now.”
My namesake grunted something and skulked off towards the south. Above us, the shape on the wall disappeared and we heard whistling. I could hear the centurion making water over the far side of the rampart.
I pressed my mouth against Vibius’s ear and whispered: “Be careful. There will be water and mud in the ditch.”
We seized the opportunity presented by the distracted centurion, slowly sliding down the nine foot slope into the ditch. At the bottom, the muddy filth sloshed halfway to our knees. The smell was repulsive, to say the least. I tried not to imagine what could have been discarded into the fossa.
Then disaster struck.
I stepped on what I could only guess was the decomposing carcass of a long dead animal. My right foot, which was to the front, lost all purchase, sliding forward on the slime.
I grabbed blindly and my left hand got hold of a stake, but it was too late. Momentum twisted my body and I fell backwards, onto a wickedly sharp stake.
Mayhap it was Fortuna, mayhap it was Arash who intervened. It could have been both.
The chain mail in my pack, folded twice over, took the brunt of the blow. The stake imbedded into the mail. Vibius had to embrace me and lift me off its point. Looking back, I was extremely fortunate. If I had fallen forwards, the stake would no doubt have pierced my chest. Without the stake breaking my fall I would have created an almighty splash which would have been noticed by the watch officer.
With more than a little assistance from the gods, we ascended the far side of the ditch unscathed, but shaken. We reached the wall without being detected, then crouched close to the stone foundation of the rampart to gather our wits.
“Lucius!” shouted the booming voice of the centurion. Again, my heart beat in my throat. I knew that he was speaking to the other guard, but still, the mention of one’s name causes an involuntary reaction.
“Lucius!” it came again. I jumped.
He was losing patience. “What in Hades are you up to, you lazy bloody bastard”, he yelled. I heard angry footsteps disappear down the rampart.
My hand found purchase on the top edge of the stone foundation. Within heartbeats both Vibius and I stood next to the four feet high palisade.
Forty paces to the left, we heard the centurion laying into Lucius with his vine cane. “I didn’t tell you to start drinking, I told you… and so on and so forth… ” ‘Whack, whack’ went the cane, masking our sounds as we jumped onto the walkway on top of the rampart and slid down the embankment on the other side of the wall.
We were far from safe, but no one sounded the alarm as we sprinted across the road, away from prying eyes.
We jogged five hundred paces before we reached the trees. Within the forest it was pitch black. After stumbling over roots and branches repeatedly, we decided to rather rest until morning. Wrapped up in our legionary cloaks, hidden underneath dense undergrowth, we soon fell asleep.
Chapter 14 – Sons of Mars
Although we had a stressful and tiring night, we woke before dawn.
The dense canopy prevented most of the light reaching the forest floor, but it was adequate to enable us to don our armour. We slowly made our way towards the edge of the forest, crawling the last twenty paces to lessen the chance of being seen.
The day was overcast and gloomy, the wind blowing stronger than the previous evening.
I took the time to study Vibius. His hair was clotted with blood. His mail torn, his helmet dented. Specks of dried blood and dust covered his face, exposed arms, and armour.
I noticed that he was studying me in the same way, grinning.
“Lucius, you look like you have been in a terrible battle, and lost”, he whispered. “Thank you, Vibius, you do too.”
“Do you have the bandages and the other things?” I patted a leather satchel at my side. “I do.”
“We had better get going, Vibius.”
It took a while to complete the final part of our disguise. We stood, took a deep breath each, and started stumbling towards the legionary fort.
Within heartbeats, ten mounted auxiliaries trotted towards us, led by a decurion.
“Halt!” boomed the decurion. We stopped in our tracks. I had my arm around Vibius, half carrying him.
The auxiliaries surrounded us, their shields uncovered, spears levelled in our direction.
“Identify yourselves.”
Vibius spoke in Latin with a heavy eastern accent. “Legionary Vibius Marcellinus, First Century, Auxilliary Cohors Aurelia Antonina Hemesenorum, reporting as ordered sir!”
Vibius looked at me sideways. “This one took a hit to the head, decurion. His brain has been addled.”
The decurion nodded in understanding, being familiar with the effects of suffering a serious blow to the head.
Vibius continued: “We have an urgent message from our prefect for your commander.” He doubled over with pain, then added: “It was the last command he gave.”
We were escorted to the officer in charge of the auxiliary infantry. The tribunis cohortis was clearly a military man, an equestrian by birth. He reminded me of my friend Hostilius Proculus. My confidence dwindled upon laying eyes upon him, but Vibius was unaffected.
The officer took one look at us, then instructed the decurion: “Call for the surgeon immediately.” “And”, he added as an afterthought, “for the sake of the gods, give them chairs.”
“While we wait for the surgeon, tell me all”, he commanded.
My friend relayed our story to the scowling officer. “Our unit is stationed at the fort at Izbasesti, north of here, sir. Yesterday afternoon we were attacked by a warband of Scythians. My guess is that they are Carpiani, sir. Bloody thousands, sir. They somehow overran the watchtowers before we could be warned. Next thing, they were amongst us, sir. We tried to fight them, but there were just too many of the bastards.”
By this time, the tribune had
lost his scowl and studied us intently.
Before he could reply, an auxiliary entered the office, saluting smartly. “My apologies, sir. There are clouds of black smoke rising above Izbasesti in the north, sir. The fire is massive. Looks like the fort is burning.” The tribune stood then, but the soldier wasn’t done yet. “Same goes for the south, sir. Seems like the fort at Crampoia is going up in flames as well.”
Just then a rotund officer walked through the door, sweating profusely. The tribune stood, saluted and came to attention.
My hopes soared as I identified the commanding officer of Urlueni, the praefectus alae. Clearly a patrician, holding military appointment in advancement of his political career.
The cavalry prefect stammered: “All the forts are on fire, tribune. There is a crisis! What are you doing about it?”
He then noticed our presence for the first time.
“Who are you?” he asked.
Vibius did not waste time. “Prefect, sir, we have escaped the destruction of Izbasesti only with the assistance of Fortuna. We hid in the Raven Forest and witnessed the cruelty of the barbarians with our own eyes. Last night we crossed back over the muddy river and walked down the valley.”
The surgeon, summoned earlier, arrived just as Vibius doubled over with pain again.
“Please allow me to have a look”, he said and the prefect nodded. “Just get on with it, I need him to finish his report.”
The surgeon cut a piece of the bandage away and lifted the torn armour. A length of silvery grey intestine sagged from the wound. The putrid smell that accompanied it made the prefect’s hand go to his mouth as he tried to hold down the bile.
The surgeon, confronted with this horrendous wound, immediately wrapped another bandage around Vibius’s abdomen.
He leaned over to me, shifting the bloody bandage on my head. Splinters of bone and brain showed themselves and he jerked his hand away as if from a viper.
“He stood, shaking his head imperceptibly at the prefect and tribune. “Better question them quickly”, he said and left the room.
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