by Ben Kane
Pera stepped back. ‘It looks to me as if you smeared ash all over your faces and arms so that you wouldn’t be seen. Enlighten me. Quickly.’
‘Sir, we …’ Urceus began. He hesitated.
‘Yes?’ Pera’s tone dripped venom.
‘Nothing, sir.’
Pera glared at Quintus. ‘What have you to say, hastatus?’
As Quintus flailed for something that would sound even remotely feasible, Pera prowled over to his tent mates. A moment later, he crowed with triumph. ‘You and you! Fall out. Join your maggot friends.’
Placidus and the other hastatus with the rope joined them, their faces miserable. Pera pounced, lifting their mail shirts one by one. ‘Rope! This explains much. You’ – here he prodded Placidus in the chest – ‘and some of the rest lowered those two whoresons down the wall while it was dark.’ An outraged note appeared in his voice. ‘What were you up to, you traitors? Selling us out to the Syracusan arse-lovers?’
‘No, sir!’ Quintus and Urceus protested.
‘I bet that was it! Or you were planning to desert. There have been rumours of this, but I never thought to see it. Marcellus will be furious! He’ll want to make an example of the entire contubernium before the whole army. It’ll be the fustuarium, I’d imagine,’ Pera gloated. ‘Corax will be disciplined too.’
A group of passing principes slowed up when they heard some of what Pera was saying, but a snarled order sent them on their way.
While Pera was occupied, Quintus and Urceus glanced at one another with total dismay. ‘Tell him what we did,’ mouthed Urceus. ‘We’re fucked either way.’
Gods above, help us, asked Quintus. Do not let my comrades suffer for my stupidity. On my head be it. When Pera wheeled on him again, he met his gaze. ‘We’re loyal servants of Rome, sir.’
‘Really?’ scoffed Pera. ‘Explain away what I’ve found here, then.’
‘Urceus and I did go over the wall, sir, yes.’
‘I knew it! The crime of deserting your sentry post carries the death penalty, you fool!’
‘I know, sir. No one was to find out—’
‘Until I came along! Fortuna be thanked that I did, eh?’
Quintus longed to ram his sword so hard into Pera’s mouth that it shattered his teeth, but instead he waited until the centurion indicated that he should go on. Trying to be as concise as possible, he told the whole story. A malicious interest lit up Pera’s eyes the instant that Quintus mentioned the height of the wall, but he did not interrupt once. When Quintus finished, an eerie calm fell. None of the sweating hastati broke it. They were in enough shit as it was.
‘You’re sure about the number of blocks?’ demanded Pera.
‘Yes, sir. I wouldn’t miscount them after risking my neck like that.’
The trace of a smile passed across Pera’s lips. ‘I suppose not.’
Another silence, during which Quintus could see Pera’s mind working fast. It was clear that he wanted to take this information to Marcellus and, in the process, take all of the credit. Could he achieve this while also claiming that Quintus and Urceus were traitors? If there were no mention of them measuring the enemy’s wall, what would he allege that they had done? Quintus had attended the trial of a veles who had abandoned his sentry post. The accused had been closely cross-examined: discovering the reason for his absence – a trip to his tent to recover a skin of wine – had been an important part of gathering evidence against him. Pera needed to make them convincing scapegoats, or suspicion would fall on him over his incredible ‘discovery’ of the wall’s height at Galeagra.
‘Listen to me, you filth,’ growled Pera. ‘Every one of you deserves to be beaten to death for this, d’you understand?’
‘Yes, sir,’ the hastati mumbled. In his comrades’ faces, Quintus saw only despair. In his heart, however, a trace of hope had appeared. ‘Deserves’, Pera had said.
‘What you did was misguided. Stupid beyond belief. It beats anything that I’ve seen in all my years in the centurionate.’ Pera paused, and let them stew for a dozen heartbeats. ‘Yet Rome might benefit from it. I will tell Marcellus about the wall. You miserable lot will never speak of it again, to anyone. If you do, I will not rest until every one of you is sentenced to death by the fustuarium. Do I make myself clear?’
You fucker, thought Quintus even as he spoke the words, ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Are you sure?’ asked Pera, his expression fierce.
‘Yes, sir,’ they muttered.
‘Fine. We have an arrangement, then. Why don’t you piss off to your stinking tent and drink some wine? After a sentry duty like that, you deserve it.’
They would live, Quintus reflected bitterly, but in the knowledge that Pera could turn on them in the blink of an eye. True, questions would be asked if he tried to bring their dereliction of duty up in a year, say, but that didn’t mean that they wouldn’t still end up being sentenced to death. The word of lowly hastati was as nothing compared to a centurion, especially one who was related to Marcellus, and who had delivered the method of taking Syracuse to him.
They couldn’t go to Corax now. As before, he wouldn’t challenge another centurion in public. Even if he did by some miracle speak out, Quintus and his comrades would be exposed as having deserted their posts. A deep gloom settled over him. Why had he been so stupid?
‘Ho, Pera! Are you trying to take over my command?’
In the black depths of despair, a ray of hope. Quintus was overjoyed to see his centurion. Pera, on the other hand, looked mightily pissed off. ‘Nothing like that. I just picked this lot up on their scruffy appearance, that’s all.’
‘They’re always filthy, my boys. It’s of little concern, as long as they can fight, I say.’ Corax sauntered up casually, but his eyes held a dangerous glint. ‘You don’t agree?’
‘No,’ replied Pera. ‘But I let them off with a warning.’
Corax scrutinised his men’s faces. ‘It doesn’t seem that way to me. They look as if they’re about to get on the ferry over the River Styx.’
‘You know how it is,’ said Pera with a laugh. ‘The fear of another officer who isn’t one’s own and all that.’
‘Fair enough.’ Corax nodded as Pera made his excuses and began to walk off.
Quintus’ shred of hope vanished. Beside him, Urceus let out a tiny but audible groan. Pera had got away with it.
‘Pera! You didn’t notice this?’ called Corax.
Quintus was stunned to see Corax waving the length of rope that had slipped, unseen, from around Placidus’ waist to the ground. Pera’s face was the picture of shock. ‘I—No,’ he said. ‘I didn’t.’
‘What in hell’s name is this for?’ bellowed Corax, not just at Placidus, but at them all.
Quintus knew that he was risking his life anew, but trusting Corax with that was infinitely preferable to leaving it in the keeping of a snake such as Pera. He stepped forward, ignoring Pera’s threatening glare. ‘We used it to climb down the wall, sir. I’ve found a spot near Galeagra where the defences are only sixteen cubits high. It’s a weak point, sir. Somewhere that an attack could be made, if the right men did it.’
‘He’s lying!’ snarled Pera.
Corax ignored him. ‘You had to desert your post to do this,’ he said accusingly to Quintus. ‘You and—’
‘Me, sir.’ Urceus stepped forward, his shoulders back. ‘The rest of the contubernium had nothing to do with it.’
‘I’m sure they didn’t,’ drawled Corax.
‘You’re not going to listen to these pieces of scum, are you?’ Pera’s voice was shrill.
‘These pieces of scum followed me through the horror that was Cannae. Where were you that day?’ Corax shot back. Pera spluttered, and Corax smiled – but it was all teeth. ‘Ah yes, I’d forgotten. You were posted elsewhere.’
‘That’s right,’ said Pera. ‘If I had been there, I would have done my duty like any of you. I’d have happily laid down my life.’
‘Happily? I’m sure you
would.’ Corax’s tone gave the lie to his words. ‘I will listen to my men. Then you can have your say.’
‘As a ranking officer, I should speak first!’
Corax turned his back. Pera’s face went puce with rage, but he did not move.
‘Tell me everything,’ Corax ordered Quintus.
Quintus laid out his idea, from the hoplite he had seen during the negotiations to the details of their night-time mission.
‘Why didn’t you come to me first off, when you realised how low the wall was?’ demanded Corax.
‘I didn’t think you’d believe me, sir. I wanted to be absolutely sure.’ And I wanted to stop Pera, Quintus wanted to add. He held his breath, praying that Corax would understand.
‘You swear this to be the truth?’
Quintus sensed how important it was that Corax believed him. ‘Yes, sir. On my life.’
Corax glanced at Urceus, Placidus and the rest. ‘Is it as Crespo says?’
‘It is, sir. May Jupiter, Optimus Maximus, strike me down if I lie,’ said Urceus.
The other hastati bobbed their heads and muttered their agreement.
Scowling, Corax studied their faces as he had never done before.
Pera could contain himself no longer. ‘They’re lying whoresons, all of them! They’re planning to go over to the Syracusans. Last night’s exercise was just a trial run for when the whole damn contubernium deserts. Marcellus must hear of this!’ He made as if to go.
‘STAY, PERA.’ Corax’s voice was parade-ground loud. ‘You will not say a word to Marcellus.’
Like a whipped cur, Pera obeyed. When he wheeled, however, his eyes were murderous. ‘How will you stop me?’
Corax strode to Pera’s side and grabbed his arm. Leaning close, he began to speak in a quiet voice. Quintus strained his ears, but he could only hear snatches of what Corax was saying: ‘That damn horse race’, ‘cheating’, ‘Enna’, ‘massacre’, ‘completely unnecessary’.
At this stage, Pera pulled free of Corax’s grasp. ‘Fuck you,’ he hissed. ‘None of that matters to Marcellus. He’ll still believe that these whoresons of yours are traitors.’
‘If you won’t listen to sense …’ said Corax. He lowered his voice even further, meaning Quintus couldn’t catch his exact words.
The colour, and the fight, drained from Pera’s face. ‘W-what did you say?’
‘You fucking heard me. I have witnesses as well. You know who they will be,’ Corax growled. ‘I can’t predict Marcellus’ reaction, but I imagine it will be harsh – despite your relationship.’
Pera’s jaw clenched and unclenched. ‘The price for your silence?’
‘Your baseless charges against my soldiers will never be brought up again.’
‘And the wall at Galeagra?’
‘I will tell Marcellus about that, as if I had noticed it myself during the talks.’
Pera seemed about to protest, and Corax went for the jugular. ‘If you don’t agree, I will ensure that by nightfall every man in the army knows what has passed between us.’
Quintus had never seen Pera look so deflated. ‘Very well.’
‘We understand each other then.’ Corax glanced at his men as if nothing had happened. ‘Salute the centurion!’
Quintus and the other hastati obeyed with alacrity. Pera barely noticed.
‘Back to our tent lines,’ cried Corax. ‘At the double.’
The group marched off, each man still not quite believing what had happened. They had been delivered from the threat of execution, and also from Pera’s blackmail. Their plan, which had crumbled to dust before their very eyes, had miraculously succeeded. Quintus had caught the look that Pera shot after Corax as they passed, however. His centurion had a new enemy. Yet Quintus didn’t feel that concerned. Corax was more than capable of handling himself, of dealing with sewer rats such as Pera. He had just proved it.
Quintus’ spirits rose with each passing moment.
From now on, Pera would be less likely to harass him too.
Chapter XXII
‘REMIND ME AGAIN why we’re doing this,’ muttered Hanno.
‘Because it will please the goddess – and because it’s crazy, of course. That’s why you came along, isn’t it?’ Kleitos laughed quietly.
They were standing in the shadows beneath Syracuse’s main southern gate, a grand affair that stood taller than three men and which was guarded on each side by a strong tower. Hanno regarded fifteen of Kleitos’ best soldiers, who waited nearby. Between them, they were restraining three deer and a decent-sized boar. Being prey animals, the deer had stopped struggling against the ropes that bound them, but the boar was a different matter altogether. The bindings around his feet, and the fact that he was hanging upside down from a hefty branch borne by four men, did not stop him thrashing to and fro and squealing in anger. Every so often, his efforts would unbalance one of those carrying him, and the whole party would stagger about until they regained control.
‘The sentries think this is hilarious,’ said Hanno dourly, ‘but it’ll be a different bloody matter when we’re outside the walls. The Romans can’t fail to hear the noisy bastard.’
‘They’ll think it’s a demon, come to take their souls,’ replied Kleitos with a chuckle. He shifted the long, leather-bound package on his back into a more comfortable position.
Hanno stifled his curiosity. He had asked what it was, but Kleitos, winking, wouldn’t tell him. ‘Maybe. Or maybe they’ll send a patrol to see what’s going on.’
‘You don’t have to come, my friend.’
Stung, Hanno scowled. ‘All right, I’ll stop complaining. Let’s hope that it’s worth it, eh?’
‘Who are we to argue with the high priestess of Artemis? She has decreed that nothing could please the goddess more than a grand sacrifice at the triple junction of the marshes, the land and the sea. Artemis loves nothing more than transition, you see.’ Kleitos eyed the grey-bearded priest who was to accompany them.
‘It sounds promising.’ Hanno stifled his misgivings. If it wasn’t up to him, a foreigner, to question the wisdom of venturing beyond the defences at night with a protesting boar, it wasn’t his place either to query where it was done, or the decision to offer up animals that were usually considered sacred to Artemis. If it was so important, why wasn’t the priestess here too? Stop it, he thought. Just enjoy the madness. There was no doubt that this crazy enterprise appealed to the risk-taking side of his nature – the one that had once seen him attack a trio of armed bandits with no weapon of his own, in the process saving Aurelia’s brother Quintus’ life. Where was Quintus now? he wondered. Somewhere out there in the Roman camp, surrounded by comrades. He felt a stab of envy.
Epicydes would be pleased by their enterprise – their successful sacrifice to Artemis, the goddess of the hunt, on the first night of a three-day festival in her honour. It would reveal that his continued defence of Syracuse had divine approval. The city’s inhabitants would love the tale – how a daring party of their soldiers had sneaked out and sacrificed to Artemis, right under the Romans’ noses. It would raise morale, which had slumped somewhat during the long winter months. And if they failed? At least he’d have Kleitos, a true comrade, by his side. A trace of guilt clutched at him. Aurelia would have hated the very idea of this dangerous mission, so he hadn’t told her about it. ‘I’m not even going to ask how the animals were trapped and then brought inside the city without the Romans noticing,’ he said.
‘You should have a good idea, living out by Euryalus. Epicydes sent out the best hunters in Syracuse; they used the tunnels both to leave and to return.’
‘Gods, but that was risky. If they had been discovered, the Romans would have taken the damn city.’
‘Yet they got away with it.’ The smell of wine was thick on Kleitos’ breath. ‘The goddess was smiling on the hunting party, as she is on us. It is she who has ensured that there are plenty of clouds in the sky.’
I’d rather put my trust in my sword arm, and y
ours, and those of your men, thought Hanno. He offered up a prayer to Baal Saphon, asking him to watch over them, and to keep the boar quiet, or the Romans deaf to its protests. A knot of worry twisted in his belly, and he begged Artemis’ forgiveness that he, a foreigner, should commune with his own deities. I mean no disrespect, Great Huntress, he said silently.
There was a low whistle from above. The guard captain, a solid veteran with a dented helmet, approached. ‘That’s the all clear. There’s been no sign of the Roman whoresons since sundown. Go now, and may the gods protect you.’ He lowered his voice so that the priest couldn’t hear. ‘Give that fucking boar a stab from me.’
‘I will,’ replied Kleitos, chuckling.
The guard captain gestured at the six of his men who were standing ready by the entrance. They bent their backs and lifted the great wooden locking bar from its supports. Laying it quietly to one side, they pulled open one of the gates. To Hanno’s surprise, it made little sound.
‘We oiled it specially for you boys,’ whispered the captain with a sly grin. ‘We’ll shut it after you, but we will be ready for your return. Don’t forget the signal for us to open up.’
‘Two short whistles, then a long one and three short,’ said Kleitos.
‘That’s it. Good luck.’
Kleitos eyed Hanno, who signalled his readiness. The priest drew his cloak closer around his body and nodded.
‘Follow me!’ Kleitos called in a low voice to his men. It was as if the boar sensed the danger that they were about to expose themselves to. Its shrieking redoubled. Hanno longed to slice its throat from ear to hairy ear, but he stayed his hand. Even if he didn’t truly believe in Artemis, it wasn’t worth upsetting her. Like many deities, the Huntress was reputed to have a prickly, fickle nature.
With Kleitos, Hanno and the priest in the lead, they stole out on to the causeway that led south, towards the villages around Cape Pachynus, the southeastern tip of Sicily. In peacetime it was a busy thoroughfare, but nowadays nothing touched its gravelled surface except an occasional night-time scout, or a Roman envoy. Well used to the dark by this stage, Hanno peered into the gloom before them. He saw nothing, which wasn’t surprising. Because of the marshes, which rolled almost to the bottom of the walls, the enemy fortifications here were further away than they were at other points around the city. Hanno didn’t relax even a little. The boar’s squealing would easily carry the ten stadia that lay between them and thousands of legionaries. According to Kleitos, it was about a third of that distance to the spot that the priestess had recommended. By the time they’d reached it, the Romans would have had time to respond to the unusual noise.
