by Derek Birks
Though Ambrosius accepted the condition with good grace, he had already sent word to Marcellus, earlier in the day, to bring up the main column. When Marcellus eventually arrived at dusk, it was a relief to have all his men in one place again. Childeric, for one, was quick to declare his displeasure at the arrival of forty more Romans – even more so when Ambrosius set up camp on higher ground than the Franks.
Though Marcellus’ men and horses were dog-tired after their ride, they had encountered no problems and seen no trace of Puglio’s pursuing scutarii – which was at least one mercy. When Ambrosius was finally able to sit down and explain to the exhausted Marcellus what he intended to do, his friend – as Varta suspected - was strongly opposed to the whole notion. But Ambrosius would not be thwarted, refusing to countenance either any change or delay to his plans.
“We can’t waste time, Marco!” he insisted. “Puglio must be close upon our heels by now! Our best hope lies in getting into that port, finding a ship and escaping with anyone who wants to come with us.”
“Yes, but at the expense of how many Roman lives?” protested Marcellus.
“Any man in the garrison, who wants to join us, can do so,” Ambrosius assured him. “Clodoris has already agreed to that.”
“Aye, any man who’s still alive once the Franks have torn through the town!” retorted Marcellus. “And when you say we’ll ‘find’ a ship, I assume you mean commandeer one?”
“It’s no more than we’ve done before, Marco!”
“But before, we had the authority of Magister Aetius!”
“So it was alright to steal a ship if Aetius said so.”
“Yes, because we were acting lawfully!” insisted Marcellus.
“Lawfully? Look around you, Marco. Too much has changed - where is the rule of Roman law now?”
“Where?” breathed his friend. “I’ll tell you where! It’s in that fort over there, Dux – that’s where Roman law is. And if you attack it, or betray it, then you’re just helping to destroy what’s left of Rome.”
“If my father, Magnus, represents Roman law,” declared Ambrosius, “then Caracotinum is better off without it!”
“That’s not up to you to decide,” murmured Marcellus.
“You’ve voiced your opinion, Marco – and I understand your objections – but it’s all arranged,” Ambrosius told him. “Onno and Caralla will go up the estuary tonight and into the port by the south gate.”
“How? Do they even know where they’re going?” demanded Marcellus. “And how will they get in? You make it sound so easy, but stealing a ship can’t be that easy or it would happen all the time!”
“We’ve done it before!”
“That was different!”
“There’ll be plenty of distractions…”
“If, by distractions, you mean the cries of the innocent inhabitants of the port of Caracotinum, then I’m damned sure you’re right! The Franks will run out of control - Franks that we will have let in!”
“Clodoris says that all the Franks want is control of the port – God’s teeth, Marco, they used to live in that town! Don’t forget that! They lived inside those walls, bought goods and, for all I know, shared the same whores as any Roman! Their loyalty as foederati was rewarded only with expulsion! They only seek to reclaim what they lost when Magnus threw them out.”
“You’ve seen what I’ve seen, all across the western empire, Dux; these Franks are part of all that’s going wrong with Rome…”
“Listen to me, Marco: the longer it takes these Franks to find a way into the port, the more likely they are to sack the place. This way, I can get my family and some of the garrison out alive. And – in case you’ve forgotten - we are being pursued by a man who will not give up – a man who has your precious Roman law on his side!”
“You truly believe this is what we must do?” asked Marcellus.
“If we don’t get out of here, Marco – as fast and as far as we can – we are all dead men … dead men!”
Marcellus nodded. “I know that, Dux,” he said. “It just feels wrong, that’s all.”
“Then you must make your mind up, my friend. God knows, of them all, you’ve earned the right to choose your own path. So, if our ways must part here then so be it, but we will part friends. You have a choice to make…”
Marcellus studied the face of his commander and friend. “You swear to me that you’ll do all you can to spare Roman lives?”
“You don’t need me to swear it – you know I will,” replied Ambrosius. “I’ll go in late tomorrow afternoon with Varta and a few of the others. By then, Onno and Caralla should be busy acquiring a ship -”
“Just the two of them?”
“They’re not going to storm a ship, Marco, just make the arrangements… and besides, two men will pass unnoticed.”
With a sigh, Marcellus gave a nod of assent. “Well, let’s do it then, but I should go into the fort with you.”
“No. If we’re to succeed, I need you out here, commanding the rest of the men – because they’ll follow your lead. In the morning, as soon as the fort’s breached, you must get the men through the north gate as soon as you can after the first Franks go in. You’ll have Placido with you – and the dogs - but you’ll have to leave all the horses. It’s a pity, but we’ve no choice.”
“Even Caralla’s stallion?”
“Yes – and before you ask – he already knows.”
“Then we’ll join you?”
“Yes, we’ll meet outside Magnus’ house, which Clodoris tells me is now called the palace – where our esteemed Comes has his headquarters – it’s the large building right in your path after the gate. But if we’re not there, don’t wait; take all the men down to the old harbour, find Onno and make the ships secure. Remember, if we have ships, we have an escape route. You understand? Ships are the most important thing.”
“I understand,” agreed Marcellus.
“About one thing you are right: I don’t trust some of the younger Franks. Though Clodoris will keep order, he’ll not be the first Frank to reach the harbour. By the time we get there, I expect there’ll be some young bucks causing trouble – so watch yourself.”
“And what if you don’t get as far as the palace – what if Magnus kills you on sight?”
Ambrosius smiled. “Then all the decisions from then on, my friend, will be yours…”
“What about Inga?”
“Inga?” For a moment Ambrosius was disconcerted by the question, but he should not have been for he had noticed how close Marcellus and the girl had become over the past weeks. “She’ll go to the port with you, of course. Now, go and get some rest – and some food!”
Marcellus acknowledged his acceptance of the plan with a curt nod and went to join the rest of the men as they consumed a late, and very sparse, meal.
Turning around, a relieved Ambrosius saw Inga emerge from her nearby tent.
“Did you hear our… plans?” he asked.
“Difficult not to, as you chose to discuss your… plans outside my tent,” she pointed out.
“How much did you hear?”
“I heard that Marco doesn’t like your plan,” replied Inga.
“So, I assume you agree with him?” said Ambrosius.
“No, why would I?” she grumbled. “I’m not Roman! What do I care for the lives of a few Romans in this town?”
“I thought that you and Marco...”
She gave a shrug and turned to go. “I’ve stopped caring what you think, Dux.”
Another dart of cold steel... “Have I done something to offend you?” he asked.
“Perhaps you should just leave me behind with the horses and other beasts of burden…”
“Why would you even think that I would leave you behind?” he asked, puzzled as always by her reaction “Do you want to stay behind with the Franks then?”
“No,” she cried. “Why would I?”
“But?”
“Not today, Dux; please, not today...” she sa
id, already striding away from him into the twilight.
“Come back!” he called after her, but it seemed it was easier to persuade Marco than it was to win over Inga. Somehow, that girl always managed to drag the worst out of him.
With a sigh, he considered letting her go off alone, but it was a cold night and around their makeshift camp, loitered a hundred idle, young Franks – no doubt just hoping to come across a girl like Inga. Her presence alone would most likely cause a riot amongst them, so he set off after her, but she moved so fast he lost her in the forested area on the higher ground towards the coast.
Standing on the edge of the trees, glaring down upon Caracotinum, Ambrosius was the embodiment of frustration. Why was he wasting his time chasing after a Saxon whore? Though, of course, she was no longer a whore and he had never actually asked her whether she was Saxon or not. Of course, she was also a freedwoman – though, since he had bought her freedom, she had given him nothing but trouble.
For a while longer, he stumbled around in the forest and since darkness had fallen, it was foolish. He should return to the camp instead of chasing after a girl who cared nothing for him. As he wandered aimlessly, his annoyance festered into resentment. How was it that she did not appreciate all that he had done for her?
Close by where he stood, a young girl cried out. Was it her? He wasn’t sure – damn him, he ought to know the sound of her voice by now! Her next squeal was answered by a young man – most definitely a Frank by his accent – and the girl shrieked again but, irritatingly, he was not sure whether it was Inga or not.
On a whim he moved swiftly towards the voices and coming upon the pair suddenly, found them wrestling upon the ground. At once he stepped in to haul the young Frank off the girl and fling him aside. At once, he saw that the girl was not Inga; and when she screamed, he realised that she had been an all too willing participant. When her male companion came at Ambrosius snarling with outrage, he was torn between apologising and defending himself. As it turned out, he achieved neither, for the youth knocked him down and snatched the girl’s hand to steal her away. For a few moments, Ambrosius simply lay there on his back, contemplating his folly – until he became aware of her, leaning against a tree, observing him.
“How long have you been there?” he growled at her.
“Long enough,” said Inga.
“I thought the girl was you…”
“It wasn’t.”
“Clearly...”
“I think you may have ruined their evening…” she said.
“They’ll get over it. But you, as usual, have strayed into a place that a young girl should not go alone.”
“Perhaps because – as usual – alone was what I was trying to be!” she retorted.
“Where were you then?”
“Watching you.”
“Before that.”
“I’ve been watching you since you started following me,” she told him.
“I wasn’t following you,” lied Ambrosius. “I came up to observe the port from a better view point.”
“Yes, I’m sure there are a hundred reasons why you might be here…” Sauntering towards him, she said: “Why start worrying about me now?”
“What do you mean? I’m always worrying about you!” he replied.
“Oh, was that what you were doing when you stabbed me in the leg?”
“That was an accident! I would never set out to hurt you!”
“Or when you left me to bleed to death?”
“I sent Calens to you as soon as I could – and you didn’t bleed to death, did you?”
“Only because Calens can work miracles!”
“I did what I had to do… for my men!”
“Oh, yes, because it’s only your men that matter, isn’t it?”
“Just because I freed you, doesn’t mean I have to protect you - you’re not my woman!” he said. “And Marco’s so fond of you, he’ll always protect you.”
“Marco?”
“Yes, Marco! He is fond of you, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he is,” she said, smiling for the first time.
“Well, Marco is the best of us,” said Ambrosius, “you can trust him.”
“I don’t need you to tell me that!”
“Come,” he said, offering her his arm, “let me at least take you back to the camp…”
For a moment, he thought she would heap yet more humiliation upon him by shunning his arm, but she took it and he led her slowly back through the forest. Even he was having difficulty finding the best way back to their camp now that night had fallen, for it was many years since he had been up on the forested high ground. Though the glow of campfires showed beyond the trees, most of the fires belonged to the Franks and he had little desire to stumble upon any more of them.
When there was a sudden rustling in the undergrowth ahead of them, he felt a tremor run through Inga.
“Just some night animal,” he murmured, to allay her fears.
“A night animal? What, like a boar?” she enquired.
“Could be,” he said, “but he’ll be more interested in slashing lumps out of the earth than us.”
Even so, he regretted that he carried only his long knife with him. A good sharp spear would have been useful, for boars could be unpredictable at the best of times – though of course, it was by no means certain it was a boar at all…
“Let’s give the beast – whatever it is - a little more space, shall we?” he said, guiding her away from the noise – but also, unfortunately, further away from the distant fires.
As they veered away, the noise of the animal seemed to follow them, keeping its distance as if following a parallel course.
“It’ll just be scared of us,” he told her, as her grip on his arm tightened. Had she realised yet, he wondered, that they were being stalked - and not by any boar?
“If it’s so scared then why isn’t it running away?” she whispered, her fingers digging into his forearm.
Abruptly Ambrosius stopped and faced her. “Just now, you’re hurting me more than the damned beast. So, stay calm!”
Trembling, she tried to break away from him, but he wrapped an arm around her. “I won’t let any harm come to you,” he said.
“Won’t you?” she cried. “I thought that once - until the last time we were in a forest together.”
He took her by the shoulders, forcing her to look at him. “Will you never forgive me for that? Why is it always that moment you return to? Why do you not remember when I defended you against so many?”
“You were defending yourself, not me!” she retorted. “You didn’t even know my name! I might as well have been a wall hanging!”
“Is that what this is about: me noticing you?”
“You freed me, but I was nothing to you-”
“I never claimed that you were!”
“I’ll always be a whore to you – freed or not!”
“No! You’ve become one of us!”
“One of you? One of your band of killers, do you mean?”
“If you think so little of us - we, who have defended you, fed you and kept you safe - why do you stay?” he asked.
“Oh, do you want me thank you, Dux, for not raping me? Should I grovel? What a lucky girl I am to be with such a fine group of men!”
“By Christ, I don’t understand you at all,” he murmured.
From behind them came a low growl.
Inga blinked. “That wasn’t a boar,” she whispered.
“No,” he said. “Stay behind me - and don’t… run.”
Very slowly Ambrosius turned around to face the animals, for he knew well enough what was hunting them. When the howls began, he felt her pressed hard against his back, clinging to him. The wolves were grey shadows against the darkness, scarcely visible even when they moved and there would be a pack of them in the hunt. There had been wolves all along the river valley when he was a boy, but perhaps the noise and smell of the Frankish encampment had driven them onto the forested slopes by the co
ast. In which case, these wolves might just be a little too hungry to ignore.
“We’re going to back away from them, towards the campfires,” he said.
“But what if they’re all around us?” she whispered. “Because that’s what wolves do, isn’t it? You can’t kill them all…”
“Turn around,” he instructed, “keep hold of my arm and lead us away, but watch where you tread – now would not be a good time to stumble...”
But Inga had not turned – indeed she had not moved at all. “They’re going to tear us apart, Dux, aren’t they?”
“With luck, they’ll leave us alone – after all we’re not small children-”
Inga gasped, gripping his arm even more tightly. “My little brother was taken by wolves…”
“I’m sorry, but I won’t let them hurt you. They’re just hungry – like the rest of us. Now turn around.”
Still she did not move, but pressed her breast harder against his back, her heart pounding as she held fast to him.
“If we stay here, Inga, then they will attack us,” he said, easing out his long knife. “They’re waiting to see what we do; but they won’t wait forever…”
“I can’t move,” she breathed. “Wolves… I can’t face wolves…”
He watched the beasts carefully, trying to catch sight of them all; he reckoned at least three, but there could be more – and, he knew, there could be half a dozen more… Still, no need to worry about any others - these three would be more than enough… While he watched them, the wolves too studied their prey and what they saw must have filled them with longing.
“Inga, if I turn my back,” he told her, “they will come at us.”
“They’ll attack anyway,” she muttered. “They always do – if they’re hungry enough.”
Over the years he had seen many frozen by fear – both men and women – and almost every one of them died because of it. Fear alone was enough to kill you. Their only hope was to stand up to the beasts in the hope that the pack would seek food elsewhere.
