Marine 2: A Very Unusual Roman (The Agent of time)

by Tanya Allan

  Those who had thought themselves clear rode in disarray towards us, mostly looking over their shoulders.

  One, a tall man, who was possibly Armes, saw us and pulled up sharply. The others kept going, oblivious to our presence for the moment.

  I saw Armes take off to the left, taking two or three others with him. I took four with me and left the rest to deal with the oncoming riders.

  The other four rode fast, on the wings of fear. It must have been quite a frightening experience to be ready to deal a death blow to the Romans, only to have the Romans deal a death blow to your plans.

  I did not want this man – Armes, to escape, and we were lighter with better mounts. The track wound along the side of the valley. It was rough, with rocks and places where the winter melts had ripped through as gushing waterfalls.

  We were gaining rapidly, as their horses were tiring.

  I saw the men turn and regard us regularly. I think on seeing just five of us, they decided that perhaps they could take us. They could not tell our genders, so probably felt they just needed an edge to escape.

  Armes was trying to free something from beneath his cloak, and so I got a bad feeling. Here was a man who was used to bending the rules, so when the matt black, gun-metal object appeared, my feeling was confirmed.

  He made no attempt to fire it, as he probably knew that he had little chance of hitting anyone with any degree of accuracy from on a moving horse in these conditions. Hell, most people had difficulty hitting a man-sized target at twenty-five metres under range conditions with a handgun. Besides, we were not supposed to know what he had, so he had the advantage of allowing us to get close and thereby use it at close range at his leisure.

  He wasn’t to know that I recognised the fact he had a handgun and was trained to respond accordingly.

  The track had reached a smaller valley, so it was flatter here.

  “Go left and right!” I shouted to the others, in the hope we could catch them in a pincer. “Do not let that man get close to you. He has another weapon, far worse than the bow! Keep moving and use your bows if you get a chance. Don’t present a static target.”

  The girls grinned and nodded, breaking off in pairs as instructed.

  The next time the men turned, they saw just me following.

  This might have concerned some, but they started to smile and shout to each other. Armes shouted something and his companions kept going as he slowed and moved towards a clump of trees. I saw his tactic was to get me to follow him while allowing the others to escape. He would lure me in close, shoot me and then catch up with them and deal with any of the girls who were getting too close.

  He swung down from his horse and ran among the larger trees, ducking out of sight. I saw him discard the cloak, so knew he was less encumbered.

  I rode past the spot, leaped from my horse and rolled into the bushes to my front.

  I weighed up the situation. He had a firearm, and probably one made here. If that was the case, then it was probably a single shot, basic design that relied on old-style powder and shot ammunition. To manufacture anything more advanced would be very difficult under first century conditions. I couldn’t guarantee it, but in the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king, so he believed he had one certain shot that was all he needed.

  I needed him to fire on me and believe he had hit me; otherwise he would run and make life complicated. He would want to check the body, so then I’d have him where I wanted him. If he had more than one shot….

  I had to risk it.

  A sound of a large branch breaking to my front, followed by a cry of pain or distress made me smile. He was a terrible actor. I now knew where he was, which was deliberate on his part, as he needed me close so he could shoot me.

  It also occurred to me that he was unaware of my gender, as we had all been wearing helmets and armour, albeit the lighter type we had designed.

  He groaned, just to add a bit more emphasis to his obvious distress.

  I moved to the left as silently as I could, keeping low. My mind went back to my training as a marine. I wished I had my old M16. But all I had was my sword and my wits.

  The light was fading, which was to my advantage. I heard movement amongst the trees, seeing his back as he crouched low behind a fallen tree. He was perhaps twenty metres from me. Not a good distance to get an accurate shot with a modern weapon, let alone a home-made one. I was almost behind him now, so I waited and watched.

  He had not had the benefit of military training, a fact that was very apparent as he popped his head up above the cover to see where I could be. He was not using his weapon sensibly, as he was looking all over the place and keeping the gun static, pointing at the tree.

  Anyone trained in firearms would always point the weapon where they were looking. It gave me the opportunity to examine the weapon. Even in poor light and from this distance I saw my original assessment was right. It was probably a flint-lock, with one shot from one barrel. Given the damp conditions, I wondered whether it was reliable.

  I looked around, and saw several large fir cones. I picked four and hefted them. They were not killing material, but would hurt and do what I wanted them to do.

  I lobbed one over his head, to land audibly in the undergrowth to his front.

  He stood, pointing the weapon, holding it with both hands. He waited for me to appear, so the gun lowered slightly as I failed to materialise. The second fir cone landed closer, but to his right slightly. He stepped away from his tree and pointed the weapon at where the noise had come from.

  The third landed almost where the first one had, so he shifted again, still pointing the gun that way. The fourth hit him on the back of the head, having been hurled with all my strength. I started running as soon as the cone left my hand.

  The cone hit him, causing him to pitch forward, fire the gun and fall on his face. The noise was very loud and several birds squawked their objections and left the trees. I was on his back and wrenching the now useless gun from his hand, before he knew what happened.

  He was strong and desperate. He swung a punch at me, which hit my helmet. This made him swear, in English, I noted.

  “Argh, damn it!”

  He tried to throw me off, twisting so as to face me properly.

  Only then did he realise I was not male.

  This affected his pride, so he fought me hard. We rolled to the side, and he tried using his feet, knees and elbows to cause me injury. I was too close for him to use his fists.

  He rolled clear and scrambled to his feet. One hand went to his belt, so I grinned and drew my sword that made the knife he produced seem paltry by comparison.

  “Those who are about to die, salute the Caesar of Rome!” I said in fluent Latin.

  He frowned slightly, his eyes narrowing as he realised I was female. The light was poor so he could not see my features, but I felt he might believe my timbre of voice could be similar to that of Jane. He responded in the same language.

  “Who are you?”

  “Centurion commanding the Women’s Cavalry; and you?”

  “None of your damn business!” he said, slashing forward with his knife.

  This man had not trained in using knives either. After a few feints and bluffs, I used the side of my sword on his head and rendered him unconscious.

  I retrieved the knife, went to my horse and took some rope back and trussed him up as tightly as I could without killing him. I gagged him with some of his own cloak that I ripped up. I searched him thoroughly, finding a bracelet device similar to that I took from Soames - the man in Abingdon. It was firmly attached to his wrist. It took some getting off, and I fear I may have damaged it in the process. He had nothing else of interest on him.

  This man would kill himself without hesitation. He probably believed himself facing locals so had not done so yet. Likewise, he had not used the device for a similar reason.

  His own horse stood a few feet away, so I slung him over the horse and tied him into place. I retrieved hi
s gun, and after a moment’s hesitation, smashed it against a rock, rendering it useless. The world was not ready for firearms, yet.

  Then, I went to search for my companions.

  I found the first body quite quickly. It was of one of the men and two arrows were still in his warm body.

  The second was not far from the first; again having been shot. Then I heard the sound of metal on metal. The scene was such that I had to smile.

  Before me, in a clearing, the surviving man was fighting Rowena, a large girl who had been an original recruit back in Britain. She was the best swordswoman in the unit; perhaps even better than I. the other girls were standing encouraging her as she faced the desperate man. He was armed with a sword, but clearly had no real idea as to how to use it. He was bleeding from several superficial cuts that Rowena had inflicted on him. She was playing with him.

  He was of Arabic appearance, so perhaps this was the man they’d referred to at the fortified camp.

  I rode down to the clearing, with the now struggling Armes on the horse I led.

  Rowena nodded at me to signify she had seen me.

  “Don’t kill this one, and don’t let him kill himself!” I said.

  Rowena grunted and finished it swiftly, rendering him unconscious in a similar manner to which I had done to Armes.

  On searching him, I found another device, so we removed it.

  “Go find the bodies and see if they had devices such as these,” I instructed. “Also search them thoroughly and bring me everything they have on them. Strip the bodies and make sure they have nothing left, even jewellery.”

  A few moments later, the girls were back.

  “The bodies are gone.”

  They produced the arrows that had killed them.

  I swore, but once the enemy investigated, there would be no evidence of Time Patrol interference; except for their untimely ambush.

  “Tie that one up, gag him and sling him over his horse like the other one. We ride!”

  Rowena regarded the bracelet.

  “What is it; a magic charm?”

  “Magic? In a way and not for good. Come on, we need to see how everyone else is doing.”

  I was surprised how far the pursuit had taken us. When we returned we found elements of the Legion mopping up. Scores of captives - archers, were under guard and being led away, roped together. Many more lay dead, in lines as the soldiers had gone up and brought them all down.

  Gaius was supervising his men who were taking the longbows and remaining arrows and piling them onto the enemy wagons that had brought them here. He grinned when he saw me, wheeling his horse and riding to meet us.

  “It worked; they had no defence to us. You were right!”

  He then saw the two captives. Armes was fully conscious now, and still struggling against his ropes.

  “Who are they?”

  “I think they were the men in charge. They will kill themselves if given a chance.”

  “Like their king. You were right; Tiberius Maximus brought Decebalus’ head to Trajan, as you predicted.”

  I grunted, aware that Armes could possibly hear our conversation.

  “He was not their king, as they owe allegiance to another.”

  “Who?”

  “That, my love, is something we shall have to try to ascertain. Do you have anyone skilled in extracting information without actually killing the person?”

  Gaius grinned again.

  “One or two, why?”

  “I’m serious, these men wanted to die, and will kill themselves if given half a chance. We need to act swiftly.”

  The legionary Fabius was big, and I mean big. He was unusual at six foot seven, and lean and well-muscled.

  Gaius gave him instructions, and together with three other men, I watched them go to work with some trepidation. Cruelty, torture and mindless violence are not things that come easily to me, so it was unpleasant to have to suggest it. My fellow agent from Britain was murdered by these people, and without thought or mercy. I knew from experience that they would not hesitate to torture me to extract information, and knew this was the only way. I could not reason with them. I could not negotiate with them, and I had no access to drugs that could harmlessly facilitate the truth.

  Both men were stripped naked and tied between two trees. They could not see each other, but they could hear. They were splayed with arms and legs extended. Ropes at the wrists and ankles secured them, and there was little opportunity for them to kill themselves from this position.

  A brazier containing hot coals was placed where they could see, and several wicked-looking iron instruments were placed among the coals to heat up. Fabius stripped himself to the waist, and poked the coals with the irons. There was absolutely no doubt as to their purpose or his intent.

  Gaius stood where the men could see him, by each turning their necks to the right and left. They still were unable to see each other. He spoke to them in the Roman tongue - Latin.

  “I am the prefect commander of this legion; the legion you tied to ambush with your bows from Britannia. I need answers to some questions, which I fully intend to get.”

  Neither man made eye contact with Gaius, nor signified they had understood.

  He repeated the statement in Greek, to no response. Gaius looked at me.

  “They understand Latin; at least he does,” I said pointing at Armes.

  At this point, the other captive spoke to Armes.

  “What do we do?” he asked in modern English.

  “Say nothing, fool; they can only hurt us here. If they kill us, we’ll simply escape.”

  “But the bracelets, they’ve taken our bracelets.”

  Armes hadn’t realised this. He stretched and twisted to see his wrist was bereft of his means of escape.

  “We play for time. What happened to the others?”

  “I think they were killed.”

  “Then they will be mounting a rescue attempt very soon. We promise these local idiots what we can to play for time. Pretend you do not speak Latin or Greek. I do not imagine they will have a Brigante interpreter handy.”

  “But the woman knows you speak their language.”

  I stepped forward and spoke to them in the Brigante tongue.

  “As I was recruited in the same islands as the bows, perhaps you understand me?”

  The men gaped at me. I saw Armes’ eyes narrow as he could now see me better. I had removed my helmet and my hair flowed free. The light was very poor, but the five flaming torches gave him sufficient light to see that I was not Jane.

  “What tongue is this?” Gaius asked in Latin.

  “I do not know what they speak, but I am speaking the Brigante tongue,” I said in the same language.

  Gaius grunted and waved Fabius forward.

  “Convince our friends to suddenly become fluent,” he said, so both men could overhear. Armes looked resigned, but the other man was shaking like a leaf. As both were watching Fabius remove a red hot poker from the coals, I drew Gaius away out of earshot.

  “Two things; one, the darker man will not talk, but I suspect the other man will. The other is that they expect help from others. They think they will be rescued.”

  Gaius looked at me.

  “I speak their language, okay?” I explained.

  “What others?”

  I shrugged.

  “It doesn’t matter, but I will get the girls up and out of sight.”

  I left the scene, to hear one of the men scream as hot iron came into contact with naked flesh. I did not like this at all, but when in Rome….

  The girls were relaxing, so grumbled when I roused them and sent them into the surrounding forest as surreptitious sentries.

  “Keep down, for the men who may come will not be expecting you. They may bring weapons that will be unusual, so keep behind rocks and trees. Use your bows and be as silent as you can.”

  I returned to where the captives were. The screams had been anticipatory, as the other man had fainted befo
re the iron could do any work. Armes regarded us with a disdainful expression.

  “Cut him down and let me take him away. He will not speak with the other man present,” I said to Gaius.

  Gaius regarded me for a moment and then nodded, signalling to Fabius to do what I asked.

  The man was naked and still in a faint, so lay in a heap at my feet. I signalled Rowena and two other girls to come and take hold of him.

  “Where are you taking him?” Armes asked in Latin.

  “Ah,” said Gaius, “Found your tongue? Excellent, so now we can get down to business.”

  We took our man deeper into our camp. We pegged stakes into the ground and tied him splayed, face-down on the ground. I placed the now broken bracelets in front of his face where he could see them when he came round.

  He wasn’t long. He blinked and shook his head and then focussed on the bracelets...

  I leaned close to him and spoke in English - Ed Ryan’s English

  “Okay, sunshine, here’s the rub; you’ve been caught, and there’s no way you get to go back to where you came from unless you cooperate and answer my questions. These people have learned ways to hurt you that make the Nazi interrogators of World War Two look like pussies. You see the big girl over there that whooped your butt earlier?”

  He looked and nodded as he saw Rowena.

  “Well, you see that spear she’s holding?”

  He nodded.

  “Imagine the shaft of that spear a good fourteen inches into your butt, with no lubrication except your shit and blood. So, question one, who’s the man or woman in charge and what time is he or she from?”

  The man shook his head, so I nodded to Rowena. Grinning, she stepped forward and rested the end of the shaft against the man’s bare backside.

  “You have until five and then she will introduce you to a different kind of anal sex. One.”

  “Two.”