Emperor's Spear

by Alex Gough

  Soon after the small band of soldiers had moved on, two German warriors stopped at the site of their rest break. They were wrapped in long, thick sheepskin cloaks, and carried spears as tall as they were. One stopped, and examined the indents in the snow. He spoke to the other in a deep, guttural language. The other nodded, and gestured at the footprints in the snow. Together, they continued to follow the trail left by Atius and his men.

  Martius 213 AD

  Oclatinius sucked air in through his teeth, and considered the question.

  ‘The truth is, Silus, I don’t know.’

  ‘I don’t know’ was a phrase that Silus couldn’t recall ever hearing from Oclatinius before. He frowned, but waited for the old man to continue.

  ‘It was only by chance that we found out the mission had run into trouble. A band of Chatti warriors had been raiding near the border of Germania Inferior, stealing cattle and burning villages, the usual thing. So a century was sent out on a punitive mission. Of course, most had fled, but a small group were found drunk in the remains of a burnt-out, pillaged settlement, and brought back to Colonia for questioning and enslavement.’

  Silus couldn’t imagine their questioning was pleasant, although the worst excesses of torture might have been foregone, purely to preserve the captives’ financial value. German slaves were prized for their physical prowess, although if captured as adults they could be hard to tame.

  ‘One of them was in possession of a Roman gladius. A new one, not some antique they had found on an old battlefield. That led to some more focused questioning, and the barbarian eventually told us all he knew.

  ‘Which it turns out was precious little. Still, he knew that a party of Roman soldiers deep in Chatti territory had been ambushed, and that at least two had survived. He had seen them himself at a temporary encampment in Chatti territory. Trussed up like hogs, he said.’

  Silus pursed his lips. ‘How much territory do the Chatti occupy?’

  ‘How long is a piece of rope? Their boundaries shift all the time, as they migrate, hunt, fight. They have some permanent settlements, but no permanent borders. Still, we know the Chatti occupy a substantial part of Germania Magna, beyond the frontier, bordering with the Alamanni to the south and the Cherusci to the north-east, along with some small tribes like the Tencteri, Usipetes and Bructeri.’

  Silus nodded, but the names meant little to him. He was aware that the situation east of the Roman frontier in Germania was similar to the one he was used to on the northern frontier of Britannia – a hotchpotch of tribes, feuding with each other, occasionally uniting in confederations to fight the Roman enemy, before turning on themselves once more. He had never been interested in the detail, however. Germania had always seemed a very distant, dangerous, and ultimately irrelevant land to him. Now, suddenly, he was travelling there, and he felt completely uninformed and unprepared.

  ‘So how am I supposed to find him in all that space, in enemy territory?’

  ‘If it was easy, I would have sent some Praetorians. Why do you think I came all the way down to Lipari to fetch you personally?’

  Silus felt a little glow of pride at this, even while he knew he was being manipulated. It was true though, he had proven his worth time and again. And there would be no one more motivated to find his best friend. Still, the task seemed almost impossible.

  ‘So you don’t know how they were caught. You just know that Atius and someone else in his party survived.’

  ‘Well…’ said Oclatinius, hands clasped, twiddling his thumbs.

  ‘What?’ said Silus, his voice low and ominous. ‘Tell me.’

  ‘Well, we know two of Atius’ party were alive, at least at the time this German saw them. We just don’t know which two.’

  ‘What!’ Silus exploded to his feet. ‘You don’t even know if Atius is alive?’

  ‘Calm yourself, Silus.’

  ‘Calm myself? You drag me away from Lipari, from Tituria, with some tale about Atius being captured, and now you can’t even tell me if he lives?’

  ‘You knew that would be the case. Even if I had accurate information that he was captured alive, it could be weeks out of date, and there would be no guarantees about his well-being.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘Besides, are you telling me that even if he was dead, you wouldn’t do everything in your power to avenge your friend?’

  ‘I…’ Silus’ shoulders slumped, and he sat down heavily. ‘What was he doing in Germania anyway? He isn’t a scout.’

  ‘It’s secret.’

  Silus felt the anger rise within him again. ‘Are you kidding me? Don’t you think I need to know?’

  ‘Actually,’ said Oclatinius, and now his voice was iron and ice, ‘no, you don’t need to know. In fact, knowing too much is the real problem here.’

  Silus balled his fists, clenched and unclenched his jaw. When he trusted himself to speak, he said, ‘Tell me what you can.’

  Oclatinius too seemed to need a moment to compose himself. Every so often, Silus got a glimpse of something, a little thing that made him realise the old man was not made of stone. But it was rare.

  ‘He wasn’t even supposed to be on the mission. The idiot speculator who was supposed to lead it broke his leg. We needed someone reliable and experienced, and you weren’t available.’

  Silus wondered if Oclatinius was trying to make him feel guilty, that he wasn’t by Atius’ side, that he hadn’t been there to save him. There was no need. He was already beating himself up for that.

  ‘Is there anything you can tell me about the mission?’

  ‘A little. Atius and his men had to escort one of Festus’ men, a Greek called Eustachys.’

  ‘Festus?’ asked Silus suspiciously.

  ‘Festus is the Commander of the Sacred Bedchamber, and is closely involved with intelligence gathering. Mainly within the Empire’s frontiers, it must be said. But this fell within his remit. His man Eustachys was to travel to meet a Chatti noble, to discuss various matters with him.’

  ‘What sort of matters?’

  ‘Confidential ones,’ said Oclatinius firmly. ‘But there lies part of the problem. If Eustachys is one of the captured men, he may reveal the detail of the Emperor’s military plans.’

  ‘You sent someone into enemy territory who had the Emperor’s plans in his head?’ Silus gasped in disbelief.

  ‘Festus did, not I,’ corrected Oclatinius. ‘And he is profoundly sorry. But it was necessary, for reasons I can’t discuss, that Festus’ representative knew the Emperor’s intentions.’

  ‘And what has Caracalla made of this development?’

  ‘The Emperor doesn’t know.’

  Silus raised his eyebrows. ‘Don’t you think he might be displeased to find out?’

  ‘About as displeased to know that his top-secret plans may have fallen into the hands of the enemy.’

  ‘But isn’t it Festus’ fault? Surely you can just blame him? Aren’t you taking a risk by protecting that man?’

  Oclatinius shrugged.

  ‘It’s not like you to take unnecessary risks,’ said Silus. ‘What has Festus got on you?’

  Oclatinius’ face turned instantly to thunder and he seemed to grow and swell, to loom over Silus like a giant storm cloud.

  ‘You dare to suggest I am being held to blackmail? I, Oclatinius, leader of the Arcani? What do you think would happen to someone who attempted to blackmail me?’

  Silus shrank back from the sudden storm.

  ‘I’m sorry, sir, it’s just – I was surprised.’

  Oclatinius let the storm dissipate.

  ‘Festus and I go back a very long way. Ask about it no more.’

  Silus nodded and waited for Oclatinius to continue, but the old man had become introspective. When the silence lengthened, Silus prompted him. ‘So Atius went into Germania Magna, with this Eustachys fellow and a small team of soldiers, on an unspecified diplomatic mission, and two of his team, which may or may not include Atius, have been captured,
while the rest are… what? Dead?’

  Oclatinius nodded. ‘No one from the mission has returned to Roman territory, so yes, it must be presumed that the rest are dead.’

  ‘And my task will be to find the survivors, rescue them, and escort them back to safety?’

  Oclatinius hesitated. ‘That would be the most desirable outcome, yes.’

  Silus felt his guts clench.

  ‘The most desirable outcome?’

  ‘Don’t be stupid, Silus. I have just explained to you the importance of the information Eustachys carries. If he has been captured, and it is not possible to rescue him, then he must be killed.’

  A sour taste rose up into the back of Silus’ throat. More killing.

  ‘What if he has already told them what he knows?’

  ‘There is nothing we can do about that. But Eustachys was picked for a reason. He is tough, and could hold out for some time. If his captors were truly ignorant of his mission, then they would have no reason to torture him for the information. But all men break eventually. The longer he is in captivity, assuming he has been taken, the greater the risk he will tell them everything. And we have to work on the assumption it is Eustachys in captivity, because the stakes are so high if that is the case.’

  Silus nodded. Then a thought struck him.

  ‘And Atius?’

  Oclatinius looked shamefaced, but he kept his eyes on Silus. ‘We have to consider the possibility that during the mission, Eustachys confided in Atius the secret intelligence. Therefore, if Atius has been captured, the same applies to him.’

  ‘What?’ Silus’ voice came out in a roar, and it was his turn to show fury. ‘You got me on this ship on the understanding that I would be rescuing, or at least avenging, Atius. Now you tell me I might have to kill him?’

  Oclatinius took the anger like a boxer taking punches to the head and not retreating a step.

  ‘As I said, it would be best if you rescued him.’

  ‘But if I can’t be his rescuer, I must be his executioner. Atius is my best friend. You only persuaded me to accept this mission because I thought I’d have the best chance of saving him. I refuse to kill him.’

  Oclatinius sighed. ‘Silus, don’t make me be firm with you.’

  ‘Firm?’

  ‘You think you have nothing to lose, but in your heart you know that isn’t true.’

  Silus frowned, not following him.

  Oclatinius looked sternwards, in the direction the boat had come from. Towards the island of Lipari. Silus turned to follow his gaze, and a coldness gripped his heart, made it suddenly hard to breathe.

  ‘If you touch her…’ Silus said, his voice little more than a whisper.

  Oclatinius took a sip from his drink, regarding Silus steadily. Then he stood, and walked to the prow, where he held the rail and watched the waves.

  Januarius 213 AD

  ‘This mission had better be worth it,’ said Atius to Eustachys. They were walking a short distance behind Aldric, who was making a good pace. They were out of the forest for the time being, walking across scrubby hills populated almost entirely by sheep who snuffled through the snow to get to the sparse grass beneath. They gave the odd farmstead they encountered a wide berth. They had no need to raid them for supplies, not yet at least, although Atius was worried if they had many more snowy forests to pass through, their rations would not last until they got back to friendly territory. Further, if they used the farmhouse or outbuildings for shelter, they would have to kill the inhabitants for fear of their raising the alarm about the armed band of foreign soldiers in their land. That didn’t sit comfortably with Atius, not to mention it was a risk if any of the farmers escaped.

  So they had sheltered for the previous night in their tents, in a small copse, and shivered through the dark hours. It hadn’t been a popular decision. Scaurus had been particularly vocal, complaining that the lives of a few barbarians weren’t worth them having to endure this cold. Atius had let him grumble. He knew which battles were worth fighting.

  Being in the open was a double-edged sword. They could see a long distance, and none of them had noticed any signs of movement in the distance, any indication they were being followed. But equally, they could be seen from a long distance away. And it was not snowing now, so the tracks they left would be visible for much longer. He sighed. There was nothing he could do about it.

  Eustachys had seemed to consider the statement for some time.

  ‘What would make it worth it?’

  Atius turned to look at him in surprise.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘How can I answer your question, unless I know what you value?’

  ‘Well…’ Atius thought about it, then decided it was too deep, and flippancy was in order. ‘I like beer. And women.’

  Eustachys nodded, as if taking his answer seriously. ‘In that case, this mission is worthless.’

  Atius looked at his grave face for a moment, searching his eyes. Then he burst out laughing, and clapped him on the back. Eustachys’ face too split in the smile he had been holding back. It was the first time Atius had seen Festus’ man display a sense of humour, and it was the first time he had felt any real warmth towards him. Until now, this job had just felt like babysitting a particularly miserable child.

  When Atius had finished laughing, Eustachys said, ‘But in all seriousness. Do you love your Emperor? Do you love the Empire?’

  Atius was instantly on his guard, his jovial mood evaporated in an instant.

  ‘It’s not a loyalty test, Atius. I may be a spy, but I’m not a delator. I have no interest in trapping or denouncing people.’

  Atius relaxed, though not fully.

  ‘Love is a strong word,’ he said. It was a word he genuinely avoided, if he was honest with himself. Especially where women were concerned. ‘I honour and respect them. And yes, they have my loyalty. I was born a free Roman citizen, and I am proud of that.’

  ‘So what do you want for the Empire? Why do you fight for it?’

  Atius frowned. He wondered if his answer would be different if he was in a tavern in Rome, rather than out here in foreign territory with his life in danger. Still, he tried to answer honestly.

  ‘I want to increase the glory of the Empire. I want to keep its people safe.’

  ‘Safe from what?’

  ‘Threats from outside its borders. Barbarians.’

  ‘Then yes.’

  ‘Yes what?’

  ‘Yes, this mission is worth it.’

  Atius nodded.

  ‘And can you tell me any more than that?’

  Eustachys shook his head. ‘There is no need for you to know.’

  Atius didn’t reply. He knew that Eustachys was right, but it irked him to be out of the loop. Still, he had a job to do, and he had been reassured it was important. Important enough to lose men for? To die for? He just had to hope it was.

  ‘How much further?’ yelled Scaurus from a few feet behind them, then belatedly added, ‘sir.’

  The sun, breaking through scattered cloud from time to time, was dipping in the sky, but had some way to go before it hit the horizon.

  ‘We’re making good time,’ Atius yelled back. ‘We will march for a few hours yet. The more ground we cover, the less time we spend in hostile country.’

  ‘Isn’t it time for a break then? Sir.’

  Atius called to Aldric to join him.

  ‘How many more miles can we cover before sun down?’ he asked.

  Aldric squinted at the terrain ahead. ‘Maybe another six or eight?’

  Atius looked back at the men. They were tired, but could go on.

  ‘We march until dusk.’

  He ignored the groans from behind him.

  * * *

  When Atius gave the order to halt to look for somewhere to make camp for the night, he was sure he heard Scaurus mutter something like, ‘thank fuck for that’. He ignored it. If Scaurus had wanted to make a point, he would have spoken louder.


  Drustan pointed to a wooden structure half a mile away, in a small valley beside a stream. It looked like a barn or byre, but the roof had collapsed. There was no sign of habitation in the vicinity, and there were no recent human tracks in the snow. Atius looked around him. There was no other decent cover nearby, from the elements or from spying eyes, so he nodded.

  ‘We will shelter in that barn.’

  They approached it cautiously. Scaurus crept up to the door. Atius was at his shoulder, sword drawn. At Atius’ signal, Scaurus kicked the door in, and stood aside as Atius charged through.

  The broken roof let in enough early evening light for Atius to see the barn was not in current use, but he still had to squint into the shadows and wait for his eyes to adjust before he was sure it was completely unoccupied.

  He beckoned Scaurus in, and with the tough soldier at his back, he investigated every possible hiding place – behind a broken gate that was leant against the wall, behind a low wooden partition, thrusting his gladius into a pile of mouldering hay to make sure no threat lay within.

  Snow had drifted into some corners, but the mud floor was dry in other places. There was an odour of old cow dung and musty rat droppings, but the walls, though draughty, kept the worst of the wind out. He called the others in, and they set about pitching tents in the drier parts of the barn, clearing away the debris of its previous occupants, human and animal, to make room.

  ‘Shall I make a fire, sir?’ asked Drustan.

  ‘In this luxurious accommodation?’ asked Atius in mock incredulity. ‘You will be asking for underfloor heating next. No, we don’t need a fire for warmth, so we will eat cold food and hard biscuit tonight.’

  Scaurus muttered a curse, and Atius whirled on him.

  ‘Or would you send a signal to every angry German warrior nearby that we are here, and end up with a spear through you like Toutorix?’

  Scaurus had the sense to look abashed, and he set to putting up his tent without further comment. The others pitched their own leather tents, by necessity packed closer together than was regulation, though Atius was never a stickler for rules. Atius kept watch at the door until they were done, then summoned the men round him.