The Fort

by Adrian Goldsworthy

  ‘As I was saying, thanks in some small part to my dear and immodest friend and her strange fascination with swords and killing, your men here are in good spirits.’

  ‘Trying to look up my skirt, that’s what it is – and that wretched flag. We all know where men do their thinking…’ came the muttered commentary from the other couch.

  Sulpicia Lepidina waved an arm to hush her. ‘Sometimes your wit can be too dazzling, my dear! And sometimes you think that you are the only one with eyes and ears, Flavius Ferox. I have followed the standards for more than six years now, and I believe I have learned something about soldiers. These men may not like you, but they have come to trust you and they all sense that something is going to happen. That business with the catapult made plain to anyone that you expect trouble – bad trouble and soon. With you – and with this little spoiled school girl at your side – they reckon that they can win, or at least survive. If the trouble is as bad as you suspect, and I have little doubt that it is, for trouble seems to find you wherever you are, then you need every advantage you can find.

  ‘They’ve heard some of the stories about you. I’ve told several of the officers about an island far away, and a tower, and you and Vindex and that handful of men holding off hundreds of savages.’

  ‘There was a woman too, among those fighters,’ Claudia Enica added, respectful this time, for Brigita had fought at Ferox’s side.

  ‘Indeed there was – and now he has you at his side to distract him and poor little me to protect!’ Lepidina threw back her head in a great laugh that always came as a surprise from so poised a lady. ‘My point is that you give them hope. A thin, fragile hope perhaps, but hope still and that is a greater weapon than any one-armed catapult. You told me as much long ago.’

  Ferox did not remember, but perhaps he had said something like that.

  ‘If I leave now, and take my children with me – even if I leave a silly girl behind to play soldiers – then what does that say?’ She stared at him, her blue eyes looking very dark in the lamplight. ‘It will tell them that you do not really believe after all, and that perhaps they are doomed and then that slender thread of hope snaps and cannot be repaired. What are all our chances then? Like it or not, you need us here. And I know my duty.’ Lepidina sighed. ‘There is something about you Flavius Ferox that always makes me sound like a schoolmaster lecturing a thick-headed boy.’

  ‘Sounds about right,’ Claudia said. ‘But even the dullest must see wisdom in the end when so patient a teacher explains. And you once told me, husband, that men without spirit will never win.’

  ‘I never realised I talked so much,’ he said, knowing that he had lost because they were right.

  ‘You do,’ Claudia Enica said. ‘When you are not sunk in sullen silence you prattle away like… well like a certain beautiful young queen.’

  ‘Hardly that, my dear,’ Lepidina said fondly. ‘Hardly that.’

  Privatus interrupted them. ‘Excuse me, my lady, but you did ask me to interrupt. Young Marcus is not sleeping and the girl is worried about him.’

  ‘He had a fever earlier,’ Lepidina explained, seeing Ferox’s concern. She was already on her feet. ‘Not a great worry, but I had better take a look and see what I can do. You will excuse me, won’t you?’

  Ferox stood up out of respect. ‘Of course, lady.’

  ‘She is right, husband, as she usually is,’ Claudia said when they were alone again. The food was long since finished and although the slaves would appear soon enough to clear away once they called, none waited inside the room.

  ‘I know, wife. Or should it be queen?’ Ferox remained on his feet. Claudia Enica stretched out on her couch, the silk dress spreading over her like liquid as her legs moved.

  ‘It should be both.’ She rested her chin on her hands to watch him. ‘And it should be my lady, and my love and my mistress. Or to put that in the silver-tongued speech of the prince of the Silures turned centurion of Rome, something like this.’ She grunted loudly. ‘Does that sound about right?’

  Ferox shrugged. ‘I have always thought my voice a little sweeter than that, but close enough.’ He went over to her couch and sat beside her. ‘Words have never come easily, not when I am with you.’

  Claudia Enica turned to lie on her side facing him, one elbow on the raised end of the couch to support her head.

  ‘Oh, it’s my fault, is it?’

  ‘In a way, yes. You overwhelm me – you always have.’

  ‘You sound like Caesar – “And the Belgae attacked their country, laying waste to the tribe’s lands.”’

  ‘Sorry. Huh!’ he grunted. ‘Is that better?’

  ‘More familiar at least.’

  ‘It’s just that you are beautiful, so very perfectly beautiful. Your skin is softer than the silk you wear, whiter than the snows, and your eyes seem to see right through me. Makes me feel naked and helpless.’

  ‘Hmm, getting better. But you have not yet spoken of my hair. Surely even you remember that you must always tell a woman that she has the loveliest hair.’

  ‘Well, it’s not blonde!’

  ‘Pig.’ Claudia Enica rolled so that she was on her back and gave him a smile that was almost shy.

  Ferox reached over to touch her hair, drawing out one of the many pins fastening it into place. ‘Your hair is magnificent, the hair of a queen or a nymph.’ He eased himself up onto the couch properly.

  ‘Not a goddess? There is divine blood in my family – perhaps Caesar’s as well if my poor fool of a brother was not mistaken.’

  ‘I worry about impiety,’ he said, close to her now, but still sitting up. His hand found her leg, just below the knee, touching lightly as if she was made of the most fragile glass. Memories were coming back, yet after all this time there was nervousness as well. She was beautiful as he had said, and he had always wondered why she had ever wanted to be with him.

  ‘We are becoming bold, centurion.’

  ‘That is why they pay me, my queen.’ He smoothed his fingers, feeling her beneath the thin dress. Royal family or not, her clothes and finery were always very expensive and sometimes he wondered how she could afford so many.

  Claudia Enica did not react or move, her eyes still staring up at him.

  ‘Tell you the truth, I’m a bit worried about this.’ His hand clasped her knee through the silk.

  She laughed at that, but still did not move into him. Ferox leaned down and kissed her and at last they came together, murmuring without words as their lips pressed together. His hands were on her, hers on him and they lingered on each kiss. After a while he pulled slightly away.

  ‘Here or the bedroom?’

  ‘Why not both?’

  Ferox’s fingers felt down her leg and grasped at the dress. Slowly he began to pull the silk of her skirt upwards. Her stockings had a different texture, until above them he found bare skin.

  Someone coughed. ‘My lord!’

  Claudia Enica did not hear or did not care.

  ‘My Lord Ferox!’ It was Philo, shouting now. ‘It is important, my lord. There is news.’

  It was a pity that the law forbade having a freedman whipped as you might a slave. Claudia had heard and was pushing him away.

  ‘I am sorry, my lord, but they say that it is urgent.’

  ‘Who says?’ Ferox had sat up, although his hand was still high on his wife’s thigh.

  ‘The Lords Sabinus and Dionysius. They are at the principia.’

  Claudia laughed and lay back on the couch, and when she looked at him she laughed all the more. She was still helpless with laughter when he left the room, trying to straighten his tunic and the toga Philo had insisted that he wear.

  The man sitting on a stool and clasping a cup of wine as if his life depended on it did not look up when he entered. His shoulders were hunched, and not from the weight of his mail shirt with its shoulder doubling, for it was clear that the burden was as natural to him as his own skin after many years with the legions. His head was bare, a
well-polished iron helmet covered in dust on the table beside him. His face was grey with dust as well, save where the lines of sweat had run down it. There was stubble on his chin, several days’ worth with plenty of grey amid the black, but he was one of those dark-headed men who went grey early. Ferox recognised something about the way he sat and held his head, before the memories flooded back and he knew the man.

  ‘Here is the commander,’ Sabinus said, his tone gentle. ‘Tell him your news.’

  The soldier raised his head, frowned and then drained the rest of the cup. ‘Oh shit,’ he said, ‘it would have to be you.’

  Ferox went to the table and offered him some more wine. ‘How are you Tiberius?’

  ‘Alive, sir.’

  ‘Well that’s something. Are you still with the Seventh?’

  ‘Aye, vexillarius in the legion’s cavalry.’ He drained a second cup. ‘That’s good,’ he said and held the cup out again.

  ‘This is Tiberius Claudius Maximus, who claims to be a Macedonian and is one of the toughest legionaries in VII Claudia pia fidelis. He served with me as explorator when he was a young tiro – what would it be, eighteen years ago?’

  ‘About that, sir. Sometimes feels like a hundred years.’

  ‘So what has happened?’

  Maximus had come from Sarmizegethusa. ‘Three of us when we started, but the others did not make it. It was all so sudden, and the legate, sir, well he was caught by surprise, begging your pardon.’ Longinus had returned to Decebalus’ stronghold to see the king, but all he found was thousands of warriors surrounding the little Roman fort. The men up there were getting no more food, no more water, and the enemy were all around, watching, but not attacking. The Dacians kept Longinus as a hostage.

  ‘They asked to talk, and there was not much choice really, was there? Some young broad stripe tribune…’

  ‘Calpurnius Piso and a lot of other names.’

  ‘That’s him. He was senior, so he went to see what they offered and came back with good news. They wanted us out, but were willing to let us march away, keeping the Legate Longinus as surety for our behaviour.

  ‘The tribune agreed. It was that or die of thirst up there unless we fancied attacking their whole army. We were humped and no two ways about it, so that was a way out. So the next day – the day after the Ides, it was, out we trooped, between lines of the king’s men and plenty of the other wild buggers as well. Ugly lot and they were jeering as we passed. Then there was trouble and a bit of fighting before some of the king’s chiefs rode up and yelled at them. The tribune and most of the officers were summoned to see the king – summoned if you please. I was riding escort, and heard them argue. One of the prefects – handsome lad from the Batavians.’

  ‘Flavius Cerialis?’

  ‘You know him? Good soldier, even if he did put on airs. Sorry, sirs, not my place to say.’

  ‘We’ll let it pass,’ Sabinus said, his face concerned.

  ‘Well he said that they should tell the king to piss off, or words to that effect, and that Romans should not obey a barbarian’s demands. And him a Batavian, if you please, talking about barbarians. He said that we should press on, and if they wanted a fight, give it to them, for they would not find it as easy as all that. There’s some good lads in that garrison, who wouldn’t die that easily.

  ‘But the tribune says no, they must be sensible, and orders the prefect and seven or eight of the other senior officers to go with him and see the king. As escort, that meant me as well, although they only took a dozen of us. I did not dismount, but acted as horse-holder for a couple of men who did, otherwise I wouldn’t be here now.’ He paused to take another long drink.

  ‘Were they killed?’ Ferox asked.

  ‘No, sir, not that I saw, but at a signal warriors swarmed all around them, yelling their heads off, pinning them all by the arms and grabbing their swords. Reckon the king wanted more hostages or something. I managed to gallop off, knocked one sod out of my path, but did not use blade or spearpoint and maybe that was why they did not press too close. There was only one centurion left in charge and he led the whole column on. Now and then there were spears or arrows, or some warrior too wild or too pissed to stop himself from charging in, slashing at us with his falx. We killed a few and kept going. Lost a few too, but the centurion drove us and there was no big attack. Bit later a rider came close enough to shout that it was all a mistake and the king had punished the men responsible, but we just kept going. Late in the day, the centurion wanted to send riders out to warn all the garrisons. Been on the road ever since. Got chased a few times and they got the others. Saw a lot of men about ten miles away, marching along as if they owned the place. All armed and singing, but praise Herakles all on foot. You might be having a bit of trouble soon.’

  ‘You have done well, Maximus,’ Ferox said. ‘Now get some food and rest.’

  ‘And more wine?’

  ‘That too.’ Ferox beckoned to Sabinus. ‘Send a man to the praetorium and tell Philo to pass my apologies to the ladies, but I shall not be able to return to them until the night is well spent.’

  ‘Shall I have the alarm sounded?’ Sabinus asked.

  ‘No, not yet. I want to do the rounds of the sentries. It probably won’t be tonight, but we cannot take chances. Consilium for all officers in one hour’s time. In the meantime, I want you, Dionysius, to write a summary of all that the vexillarius has told us and have it copied and the first copy sent as soon as that is done. Send a couple of men each with a spare mount. They need news of this at Dobreta.’

  Maximus rose stiffly to his feet. ‘Omnes ad stercus, sir?’

  ‘Omnes ad stercus.’

  Maximus grinned. ‘Yes, thought so as soon as I saw you here. Just seemed natural after all that had happened. Had a feeling that you would turn up. Like old times.’

  ‘Good luck to you, Maximus.’

  ‘And you, sir.’

  ‘Odd chance running into an old comrade like that,’ Sabinus said after Maximus had gone.

  ‘Does seem like a small army sometimes,’ Ferox said.

  ‘Perhaps it is an omen.’

  ‘Perhaps. The last time we served together a legion died.’

  XX

  Piroboridava

  Close to dawn on the eleventh day before the Kalends of June

  FEROX SILENTLY CURSED the mist and himself for having been so certain. The mist had appeared soon after sunset and thickened, as it had several times in the last month. The bright moon was no more than a vague presence, lending the mist a faint glow, while leaving it hard to see very far. The picket of half a dozen soldiers stood as darker shapes in the gloom where the road passed between the front ditch. That was an uncomfortable job at the best of times, and a long, slow nightmare when there was little chance of seeing an enemy until they were almost on top of them. All they could do was stand and wait, staring out into nothing and wondering when the attack would start. Ferox had been sure that the Dacians would attack, making the most of the night and the even heavier veil provided by the fog.

  So the garrison was on alert, with half the men on the walls and the rest waiting in the closest barracks, sleeping in armour with helmets, shields and weapons to hand. That is if they could sleep. Some probably could, Ferox thought, for there were always those few who were able to close their eyes and be snoring in moments. More would pretend to sleep, eyes closed, but minds racing. Others talked, and that included some of the handful actually asleep. He had heard the murmurs of low conversation and the sudden shouts and screams of nightmares whenever he had taken a walk around to see how everyone was.

  Yet most of the time he had stayed here, on the tower above the porta praetoria. Without the mist, a man up here on the gate tower would see glints from the river and could just about make out the dim shape of the bridge. Instead, during this long night there was nothing much visible beyond the shivering picket and the outer ditch, while even the closest buildings in the canabae were no more than vague shadows. If they
survived this night, then he would have to see about tearing them down. Their occupants were inside the fort, on that much he had insisted, and as far as he could tell all had been brought in. If the enemy had been watching they would have seen this, or the unnatural quiet and absence of activity outside the fort earlier that evening, and guess that the garrison was wary and on the alert.

  Maximus had spoken of a large force marching towards them, and if the Dacians were true to character what was visible would only be a part of their true strength. There was no good reason for them to wait, especially if they knew – as they surely would, that two hundred cavalry had ridden out before dawn and headed down the valley. Ferox did not hold out much hope for the supply convoy, but wanted to give its escort a chance and give the garrison any chance at all of getting the supplies it was bringing. In the official orders, the centurion Cunicius was in charge, but Claudia Enica and Vindex had also gone, with Bran and Minura to ride on either side of the queen, and he was confident that they would behave with sense and caution. That was almost all his cavalry. They should have a good chance unless they met a very large force, and perhaps they would be the only ones to escape if things went badly here. Yet it was odd that no word had come from them, since they had to camp out for at least one night

  The night was almost spent, the moonlight long gone, but the pale, thin light of the dawn not far off. The enemy had not come and had not attacked, nor even shown the slightest sign that they were out there at all. Ferox glanced at the other men on the tower, at the legionaries and Vepoc with three more Brigantes. Their nervousness was fading as exhaustion washed over them, and even though he could not make out their faces he knew that all the men on the rampart top and in the other towers would be in the same state. These were the ones who had rested for the first half of the night, before coming to relieve the others, and then they had waited, staring into emptiness, fearful and swinging between boredom and excitement depending on each character. The enemy had not come, and all he had achieved was to deprive the garrison of rest and what might be the last good night’s sleep they would get for some time.