Fortress of Spears e-3

by Anthony Riches

  The praetorian nodded proudly, happy to have his officer’s favour.

  ‘I heard you were having a look at their prisoners. Found anyone worth recruiting?’

  The centurion shrugged.

  ‘I might have, it’s too early to tell. There’s one big lad that might have the makings, if I can be sure he’ll do what he’s told. He’s quick enough with a blade from the sound of it…’

  ‘And you’ll have fun finding out?’

  Rapax met his man’s knowing look with a slight smile.

  ‘Don’t I always?’

  Marcus and Arminius rode south at a brisk trot once they were out of sight of Alauna’s walls, and able to use the road again. After an hour’s riding they reached the spot where they had taken lunch, and Marcus reined his horse in, struck by a sudden impulse.

  ‘Let’s ride over to the spot where we captured Lugos.’

  Arminius raised an eyebrow.

  ‘You have a soft spot for the man, it seems.’

  ‘I respect the man’s courage…’

  The barbarian shrugged his agreement, and the pair turned their horses off the road and cantered out to the copse where they had destroyed the desperate Selgovae remnant earlier that day. After fifteen minutes’ riding into the late afternoon sun’s glare Marcus spotted the lone warrior, and altered his horse’s direction slightly.

  ‘There he is. He doesn’t seem to have moved since we left him, though…’

  Lugos looked up as the riders cantered up to where he stood, then returned his gaze to the rough grave he had dug for his brother in the intervening period. Marcus and Arminius dismounted and stood facing him in silence, both men unwilling to break the grieving warrior’s intent focus on his brother’s last resting place.

  ‘Was younger brother. Was five summers younger. No family left now

  …’ Marcus watched in grim silence as a single tear ran down the barbarian’s cheek. ‘Nothing left now. Death come soon.’

  Arminius snorted, shaking his head.

  ‘Very true. There are several thousand soldiers not far away over there…’ He pointed at the setting sun. ‘… any one of whom will be delighted to claim your head, but that’s only if you get lucky. Worse than that, they might not kill you, they might just take a big lad like you for a slave. If you stay here you’re likely to end up cutting down trees or digging for silver on starvation rations for the rest of your life.’

  Marcus stepped round the grave’s earth mound and stood face to face with the grieving warrior.

  ‘He’s right. If you stay here you will end up in a work gang, that or you’ll be transported so far from your homeland that this place will be no more than a distant memory for the rest of your days. Come with us. We have other men like you serving with us, men who have been betrayed by Calgus. We can find a place for you, I’m sure of it.’

  Lugos lifted his head and looked at the Roman with disbelief.

  ‘Fight for Rome?’

  Marcus shook his head.

  ‘No, for yourself, and for others like you. We have one more job to do, before the winter sets in. We have to free the Dinpaladyr from Calgus’s men.’

  ‘Men like Harn?’

  ‘Yes.’

  The barbarian was silent for a long moment.

  ‘And Alauna? Tell you, Harn insult goddess. You fight for Alauna?’

  Arminius laughed again, a deep chuckle this time.

  ‘Already he’s bargaining with you. I like this man!’

  Marcus smiled wryly at the warrior, raising an eyebrow.

  ‘I expect my tribune is going to want to deal with Harn and his men before we march north. Although just how we’re going to get inside those walls is beyond me.’

  To his surprise, Lugos snorted derisively.

  ‘You forget lesson from Carvetii fort. Get inside not the problem.’

  Tribune Licinius stood on the slopes of the hill overlooking the former Roman fortress of Three Mountains, his horse happily cropping the lush grass while he gazed down at the abandoned fort below.

  ‘The buildings have all been burned out all right, but the walls still look stout enough. I suppose Calgus was in too much of a hurry to get south to do anything other than torch the place and keep moving, which has played well enough for him now that he’s forced to fall back on…’

  He stopped in mid-sentence, pointing down at a huddle of men toiling at something outside the fort’s walls.

  ‘You’ve got better eyes than me. What in Hades do you think they’re doing?’

  The decurion at his side squinted down at the warriors on the flat ground five hundred feet below them.

  ‘It looks like they’re… digging? Yes, they’re definitely trying to unearth something. There, that group are dragging something up from their pit. It looks like… like…’

  ‘Like a sack full of salted meat, perhaps?’ Licinius’s voice was rich with irony. The decurion looked round at him, uncertain of his meaning. ‘And there was me thinking that Calgus had met his match, that he’d lost his edge in the face of our overwhelming force. Just one day later I discover that not only does he have enough wits left about him to guide a Venicone warband clean out of the trap we’ve laid for them, but he also had the foresight not very long ago to have food stored here, just in case he was forced to retreat this way. King Drust had best be very careful that he hasn’t got a snake by the tail.’

  Rapax strolled up to the north gate to find his man waiting with the two released prisoners, both men fully equipped with arms and armour and sporting pensive looks.

  ‘Well, well, Smartarse and Granny Fucker, don’t you both look pretty.’ He nodded to the guardsman. ‘Very good. The stores didn’t give you any problems, then?’

  The guardsman grimaced, shaking his head dismissively.

  ‘If you’ve met one storeman, you’ve met them all. A touch of the whip always has them running.’

  Rapax smiled knowingly.

  ‘Good, well done. Right, you two, let’s go for a little walk, shall we?’

  He led the three men through the gate, ignoring the surprised looks from the soldiers on guard at the sight of such a small party walking out on to what was, for the time being, tribal ground, and opened out his stride once the wicket gate was closed behind them.

  ‘Come along, then, the pair of you, let’s see how fit you are.’

  Half an hour later, marching to the east after the long climb from Noisy Valley to meet the military road that ran along the line of the Wall, and with both men panting horribly under the unaccustomed load of their weapons and armour, he allowed their pace to fall back to a normal march, enjoying the burning sensation in his calves after so long without proper exercise.

  ‘Feeling a bit tired, are we, gentlemen? Perhaps we ought to take a breather. Follow me!’ He led them away from the road, and through the trees until he found a small clearing that would suit his purpose perfectly. ‘Let’s stop here for a little while, shall we? Relax. Take the load off your feet. There’s no need for ceremony now, you’ve shown that you can drive along at the forced march with a full load, so just take it easy for a moment or two.’

  He watched the two soldiers out of the corner of his eye as they slumped to the ground, both allowing their shields and helmets to lie on the grass, while the guardsman stayed on his feet and with a hand on his spear, knowing what was coming. The rapist lay back on the ground, dragging his breath in noisily with his eyes closed, while the murderer sat with his back against a fallen tree and his eyes searching the clearing, clearly equally exhausted but retaining enough awareness of his surroundings to have a curious eye on the centurion stood before him.

  ‘So, soldiers, a rude reintroduction to the military pace, eh? Feeling nicely exercised, are we? Ready for your next test?’

  The murderer’s eyes narrowed, while his fellow convict lifted his head slightly to look up at the officer. Rapax smiled broadly, enjoying himself for the first time in several days.

  ‘Your next test, gentl
emen, is very simple. It is a test of your stamina, your skill at arms, but most of all it is a test of how well you listen and how well you respond to orders. The instructions for the test are very simple, but you’re only going to hear them once so fucking listen!’ The murderer tensed his body, ready to jump to his feet, while the rapist propped himself up on his elbows, looking puzzled at the sudden change in Rapax’s demeanour.

  ‘I’ve brought you both here for a reason, you maggots. For your next test there is only one instruction, and that is that very soon one of you is going to be the last man standing, while the other one is going to be a bleeding corpse. Go to it!’

  He stepped back from them, watching the comprehension forming on the rapist’s face even as the murderer pulled the sword from his belt and threw himself full length across the clearing to punch the blade through his rival’s armour, and deep into his guts. He smiled quietly with the doomed man’s first scream of outraged agony, watching as the victorious soldier ripped the blade free and thrust it into the rapist’s throat to finish him off, a thick stream of blood bubbling in the dying man’s windpipe. The victor stood up and turned to face him, his face fixed in the snarl that he had worn from the second that the meaning of Rapax’s instructions had sunk into his brain. The centurion stepped forward into sword-reach without a hint of concern and took the bloody weapon out of his hands, patting him on his blood-spattered cheek.

  ‘Good boy! Maximus, wasn’t it? I think you’re going to be rather good at this.’

  Calgus smiled quietly to himself as the first load of meat was carried in through the shattered fort’s empty gate arches. Drust was standing alongside him, with a look on his face that combined irritation and relief.

  ‘Well, Drust, there’s my end of the bargain satisfied. I took the cavalry off your back for long enough to get into the shelter of these walls without any further attacks, I led you to the one place for fifty miles where you can hold off an army, never mind a few hundred tired horsemen, and I’ve provided you with enough meat to put your men back on their feet ready to deal with anything those fools can throw at you tomorrow. I trust I can now depend on you to keep to your word, and that I’ll be safe with your tribe for as long as I seek shelter with you?’

  The Venicone leader nodded his assent, watching as his men lugged their heavy burdens into the fort and dropped them in front of the waiting warriors.

  ‘You’ll have a place with us for as long as you wish, provided you keep yourself to yourself. If I get any hint that you’re making the slightest attempt to undermine me, however, I’ll have you nailed up for the Romans to find when we leave this place. Do we have an understanding?’

  Calgus nodded slowly.

  ‘Yes, Drust, I think we understand each other perfectly. And when will we be leaving?’

  The Venicone king looked about him, as if taking stock of the fort’s stout stone walls.

  ‘You buried enough meat to feed every man here for days, and the river will provide for our water needs, so I see no need to break camp until the day after tomorrow at the earliest. Those cavalry fools can stand on that hill and stare down at us all they like, they’ll never dare to try forcing their way in here with so few men. Perhaps they’ll get bored and leave us in peace…’ He paused, looking quizzically at Calgus’s face. ‘What?’

  The other man shrugged.

  ‘Nothing really, I was just wondering if there might be some value in sending out a few of your sharper men after dark to have a quiet look at their encampment. With a little bit of luck they might even take a captive.’

  Drust nodded slowly, raising his eyebrows in appreciation of the idea.

  ‘A Roman prisoner. Information and sport for my men, something to take their minds off their surroundings. You might have something there.’

  The sun was well below the western horizon by the time Marcus and his companions had found the detachment’s overnight camp, and another hour passed while he made sure that his horse was fed and watered and sought out Martos.

  ‘Prince Martos, there is a man I would have you meet. I found him wandering on the plain today, and took him into my custody rather than leave him to his fate, and in return he gave me news that I believe you’ll want to hear.’

  The Votadini nodded his agreement, and Marcus waved a hand at Arminius, who was lurking near by with Lugos, and the German escorted the reluctant Selgovae to Marcus’s side. He nodded gravely to Martos.

  ‘Greetings, Prince Martos. I trust that Two Knives here has told you the story of our hunt today, and how we ended up adopting this stray warrior to save him from sitting out on the plain until some undeserving soldier either took his head or sold him into slavery?’

  Martos looked at Marcus, tipping his head to one side, then looked up at the silent Lugos, taking stock of the massive warrior’s bloodstained clothing.

  ‘I have the feeling that there is more to this story than you’ve told me so far…’

  Marcus took hold of the Selgovae’s right arm and turned it over to display his legion prisoner brand.

  ‘We came across a party of men this morning on the plain, and rode them down, all bar Lugos here. I recognised him at the last moment as a man I fought with some weeks ago, while he was a captive of the Sixth Legion, and put my spear up. He tells me that he was forced into a warband by Calgus’s men, and that he managed to escape in the confusion last night. The rest of the…’

  He stopped, realising that Martos’s face had taken on a hostile cast.

  ‘This man is Selgovae?’

  ‘Yes, but…’

  The Votadini prince bridled with anger, putting a hand to his sword.

  ‘You bring a warrior from the sworn enemies of my tribe to me, and expect him to be welcome at my fire? When his fellow warriors are busy plundering my tribe’s home, and destroying my life!?’

  Lugos took a step back, and for a moment Marcus tensed ready to unsheathe his own weapons, but Arminius put a heavy hand out and clamped it over the prince’s sword hand.

  ‘I suggest you listen to what the man has to say. Then judge how you should act.’

  Martos stared into his eyes for a long moment before shrugging off his grip, and placing both hands on his hips.

  ‘Very well. Speak, Selgovae, but do not expect to find me sympathetic to your tale. Your tribe has done more hurt to me and mine than a lifetime of retribution will put right.’

  Lugos looked at Marcus and then shrugged, speaking in the language shared by the tribes.

  ‘I understand. The Selgovae tribe has done many wrongs in one short summer. This man has every right to be angry for it is true, Calgus did murder his king.’ He bowed to the bristling Votadini prince. ‘Prince Martos, I went to war the first time of my own choosing, happy to fight the Romans and force them to leave our land, but I saw things in the first few days of our war that made me sad for my brothers. Death without reason, and things that would make our goddess turn her head away. Now a Selgovae warband has marched into Alauna, a holy place. They can only bring more disgrace on the Selgovae people, and I want nothing to do with this. More than that, I will do whatever I must to rid the shrine of their defilement.’

  ‘Alauna?’ Martos closed his eyes in despair, then opened them and turned to Marcus with fire in his eyes. ‘Alauna is a sacred place, and long accustomed to the protection of your soldiers. A warband of any size will rip into the inhabitants and find no resistance worthy of the name. We must march on them tomorrow, and put an end to whatever suffering they are inflicting on my people!’

  Marcus nodded.

  ‘Agreed, but easier said than done. The fort at Alauna is intact, and it appears that they are strong enough to mount an effective defence. Tribune Scaurus will want the threat removed before he passes north, but he won’t be able to ignore the fact that the time he can give to doing so is limited. Lugos here, however, has an idea as to how we might be able to resolve this problem in a swift and suitably bloody manner – if you’re willing to play a part that migh
t not come naturally to you and your men.’

  The detachment’s command conference was in full swing, and Tribune Scaurus’s tent filled with officers by the time Marcus managed to disengage himself from the discussion between Martos, Arminius and Lugos. He stopped inside the doorway, saluted and turned to leave, intending to return at a quieter time to explain his proposal to his tribune, but Scaurus waved him into the gathering, calling for a chair.

  ‘You’ve arrived at just the right time, Centurion Corvus! Perhaps you can tell us what’s happening on the other side of the hill?’

  Taking the offered seat, the weary centurion told the assembled officers the story of the day’s events with a swift economy, watching the faces of the men around him as he outlined the likely fate of those of Alauna’s inhabitants who had failed to flee. First Spear Canutius seemed unconcerned, unlike Frontinius and Neuto, who had both clearly served in the fort at some time or other to judge from the sick expressions both took on as the point of his story became clear. Unexpectedly, the first man to speak was Tribune Laenas.

  ‘We should bypass this insignificant band and leave them to their own devices, Scaurus. Our duty is clearly to push on to the north and storm this “Dinpaladyr” place. Any delay or detour might be construed as a failure to do that duty.’

  Scaurus turned his head to look at his colleague, realising with amazed anger that the man was serious.

  ‘Any man that accused me of any shyness with regard to my duty would stand need of both a sword and the skill to use it, Tribune Laenas. I’ve got ten years of service on the frontier with Germania, and my scars are all on the front of my body.’

  The legion officer reddened and looked down at the floor after barely a second’s withering stare from his temporary superior. His first spear smirked slightly, and Marcus found himself scowling at the centurion in disgust.

  ‘My, ah, apologies, Scaur… Tribune Scaurus, I sought in no way to impugn either your record or your willingness to do your duty.’

  Scaurus waved the apology away, looking slightly guilty at having browbeaten his colleague in the presence of their respective subordinates.