Fortress of Spears

by Anthony Riches

  ‘They’ve tried to deal with the problem, of course – indeed, three detachments of increasing strength from their auxiliary cohorts have been sent into the area. They were either defeated by force of arms or, as seems to have been the case with the last force that was sent to the area, a full cohort of infantrymen mind you, they’ve chosen to desert to the enemy.’ He took another sip of wine before continuing. ‘There are three reasons why I’ve chosen to send you and your men to deal with this situation, Tribune. First, the legatus here tells me that your men are the best we have for hunting down and destroying these brigands.’ Scaurus shot a glance at his cohort’s former commander, who could only shrug apologetically. ‘Second, your command is two cohorts strong, which ought to be sufficient to deal with the deserters who, I suspect, will be your main problem. And third, your men are more likely to want to protect their original settlement than the local auxiliaries, who are after all drawn from lands thousands of miles distant.’

  He fixed the tribune with a level stare, tapping the order scroll in his hand to underline the significance of its contents.

  ‘In dealing with these matters you are to cooperate as fully as possible with the local authorities, but you are also to consider your command as independent from civilian control and make any necessary decisions required to remove the threat to civil order represented by these criminal scum.’ He smiled thinly at Scaurus. ‘Everybody, Rutilius Scaurus, is going to want you to achieve everything at once, which is why I’ve deliberately written these orders to allow you to set your operational priorities as you see fit. In the meantime, it will take at least ten days to gather enough ships to carry your command across the German Sea, so I suggest that you march your men back to their home fort and allow them time to say their goodbyes. And that, Tribunes, concludes my orders. May the gods smile upon you both.’

  The governor nodded and turned back to his desk, and the two men saluted and began to leave, only to stop at the office’s door as he spoke again, frowning at a tablet he’d picked up from the desk’s highly polished wooden surface.

  ‘Ah, but there was one more thing. Trivial, perhaps, given the events of the last few weeks, but potentially serious for all that.’ Both men turned back to face him, sharing a quick glance. ‘It seems that a pair of imperial investigators rode through here a few days ago. Tribune Paulus reported the fact to Legatus Equitius when we arrived here. Apparently they were seeking some fugitive from justice who has managed to upset the praetorian prefect in some way or other …’

  Scaurus kept his face neutral, thanking the foresight that had made Licinius send a rider south in advance of the legion, taking the news to Paulus that Rapax and Excingus’s mission had failed with the death of one man and the complete disappearance of the other.

  ‘Anyway, gentlemen, it seems that these two officers and their escort have been lost without trace. As an essential formality I must ask you both if you made any contact with them after they left this fortress?’

  Both men answered the question with blank stares, and when Licinius spoke his voice was hard with suppressed anger.

  ‘None of my men have reported any such encounter, Governor, although I lost two message riders around that time, left to rot where they fell by unknown assailants. When we found them one was lying unburied beside a roadside campfire, and the other was face down in a ditch five miles to the south. He had a throwing knife stuck through his neck, a knife that my armourers tell me was Roman in design. The presence of imperial spies might go some way to explaining their deaths …’

  Marcellus frowned in his turn.

  ‘I see. Well, there’s probably little to be gained from any official comment on the matter, and since these men seem to have been operating independently of my office I intend to leave the matter where it lies. In any case they’re certainly dead. Only a fool would have ridden this far north into the heart of a tribal uprising with such a flimsy escort, never mind crossing the Wall with the northern tribes still in ferment.’ He shook his head and dropped the tablet on to the desk. ‘Dismissed, gentlemen, let’s get on with this war and leave the mystery of their disappearance to a quieter time.’

  Stepping out of the principia into the supply fort’s usual bustle, the two tribunes exchanged a glace, and Scaurus breathed a slow sigh of relief before speaking.

  ‘It seems that young Paulus decided that he was better off having a legatus and two tribunes beholden to him than to spill the beans to the governor.’

  His colleague nodded slowly.

  ‘Yes. But I’d still be happier knowing exactly what happened to that odious creature Excingus, and that last praetorian for that matter.’

  Scaurus nodded thoughtfully as he stared down the fortress’s main street to the opened gates, watching as the guard century supervised the arrival of the first supply convoy to reach Noisy Valley from the legion fortress far to the south since the start of the Brigantian rebellion. His men had buried the praetorian dead after hunting them down through the forest, but no sign had been found of either the corn officer or the soldier who had hunted Felicia through the trees after her escape.

  ‘Dead, or enslaved, I’d guess. They had a long stretch of road to cover just to reach the Wall, and the tribes won’t be in a forgiving mood. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a cohort to get on the road west. If they miss any more of the time they have left at the Hill than necessary they won’t be all that forgiving either, given where I’m about to take them.’ He turned away to head for the infantry barracks, then stopped and turned back.

  ‘Colleague, given that I’m detached to go hunting bandits, I’d be grateful for the continued loan of your horses until we return. A squadron of cavalry could make all the difference when we’re chasing around the forests after shadows.’

  Licinius gave him a jaundiced look.

  ‘You’ve got sticky fingers, young man. Every soldier that comes into contact with your cohort seems to end up as part of it. Hamian archers, borrowed cavalrymen. I’ll even wager you that the half-century of legionnaires Dubnus borrowed from the Sixth will end up in your establishment. And yes, you can extend the loan if you think it’ll do you any good, and you can keep that decurion you promoted to command them. But there is a price you’ll have to pay for the privilege.’ Scaurus raised an eyebrow, waiting in silence for the older man to make himself clear. ‘Given that young Aquila seems to have put the cart before the horse by getting our lady doctor with child, I’m assuming that they’ll be quietly marrying each other some time in the next few days. And don’t try to fend me off with all that nonsense about it being illegal for soldiers to tie their hands together, because we both know it happens. So, if you want to hang on to my horses a while longer, you’d better make sure that I’m there when it happens. She’ll need someone there that’s known her for more then a couple of days to stand in for her father.’

  ‘You’re sure that you want to go through with this, m’dear? We both know that it’s illegal for a soldier to marry. Are you sure you want your centurion to take that sort of risk, just to …’

  Felicia’s stare silenced Licinius’s playful words, her voice pitched low to avoid the words carrying to the priest waiting at the other end of the main hall of the Hill’s principia. The holy man had been escorted in from Noisy Valley by two centuries of Tungrians, and had eyed the hostile hills and forests along the route with unashamed fear, making his low opinion of such risk-taking very clear to all who would listen.

  ‘Just to give his child a father, Tribune? Yes, I’d say it’s worth the risk, given the sentence of death hanging over all of us.’

  The cavalryman smiled gently.

  ‘Forgive me, madam, it’s just the rough humour of an old soldier who should know better. I only meant to say that while I can see that you’ve become attached to the man, marrying him is a bolder step altogether. I was a good friend of your father, and while I have every respect for your husband-to-be, I would be remiss in my duty were I not to make sure that you
understand the risk you’re taking by joining your life to his.’

  Felicia smiled back at Licinius, taking his hand in hers.

  ‘Gaius, you’re such a sweet man beneath all that ridiculous military bluster. You mustn’t worry about me, though. I’d rather spend a year with Marcus than a lifetime regretting that I didn’t take this chance. And besides …’ She lifted a hand to indicate the knot of centurions gathered at the far end of the hall. ‘… have you ever seen a more forbidding collection of physical specimens to have between a lady and anyone that would do her harm? They wouldn’t even let me out of the gate to pick flowers for my headband without a tent party of soldiers to keep me from harm. Legatus Equitius has agreed to Tribune Scaurus’s request for me to provide medical services to his command, now that his replacement doctors have managed to reach the legion, and I can’t see very much happening to me once I’m part of this cohort, can you?’

  Licinius raised a knowing eyebrow, muttering under his breath and drawing a sharp glance from the doctor.

  ‘Sticky fingers again … no, nothing madam, just my little joke with my colleague. I’m sure you’ll be as safe with these house-trained barbarians as if you were sitting comfortably in your father’s villa in Rome. And in any case …’ The principia’s double door opened, and Marcus stepped into the room with a smile for Felicia, the extent of his wedding finery a clean tunic and leggings, and a belt decorated with highly polished brass openwork. He saluted First Spear Frontinius and nodded to his colleagues before crossing the room to stand before her with a broad smile.

  ‘You look lovely.’

  Felicia smiled back at him tolerantly, lowering her veil.

  ‘So do you. And you’re not supposed to see my face until after we’re married!’

  Tribune Licinius laughed uproariously, drawing another aggrieved glare from the priest.

  ‘In point of fact, young lady, you’re also supposed to have a matron of honour to supervise the proceedings, instead of which you’ve got a first spear who couldn’t crack a smile if his life depended on it. Nor do we have anyone to read the auspices, much less a sacrificial animal from whose liver they might be read. And for that matter …’

  ‘We have each other, Tribune, and that’s all I need today.’

  The cavalryman acknowledged the finality of her tone with a slight bow.

  ‘Indeed you do, madam, and long may it remain that way. Perhaps this mission to Germania will provide you with some respite from the fear of discovery. And since none of us are getting any younger, perhaps we should proceed?’ He held out an arm to her. ‘Come along, m’dear, I think we ought to go and stand in front of that particularly disgruntled-looking priest. We’ve got our ten witnesses, so let’s get your hands wrapped together and the sacred wheat cake eaten, shall we?’

  Later, with the ceremony complete, the happy couple exited the principia beneath an arch of first the officers’ swords and then those of the 9th Century, and ran the gauntlet of dozens more soldiers happily throwing nuts into the air to cascade down on them in the time-honoured fashion. As they sat down to a celebration meal in the praetorium, with plentiful wine on the table, the conversation inevitably turned to Dubnus’s charge north to rescue Felicia. Julius, for several years the younger man’s centurion during his time as a chosen man, waved a chicken leg at his former subordinate, his cheeks flushed and his voice a little louder than usual.

  ‘Only you, Dubnus! Only you could have shamed a gang of disgraced road menders into following you into the teeth of a rebellion with barely enough strength to put a tent up! Not only that, but with a scar on your guts only three weeks old! A scar you earned, as I recall, by jumping into a losing fight with those tattooed head jobs!’ He raised his cup to the younger man. ‘Colleague, I salute the size of your stones, but one of these days you’ll end up face down unless you learn to think before you jump!’

  Where a younger Dubnus would have bridled at the implication of rashness, the centurion simply nodded slowly, raising his own cup and taking a sip of his wine. Felicia, who had allowed much of the discussion to wash over her as she enjoyed the sensation of having Marcus beside her, watched her rescuer intently.

  ‘You may be right. Perhaps I do need to think a little more before I act. But I can tell you this: I will never stand idle while any friend of mine is in danger. I would have gone north alone if necessary, healed or not, to find and rescue this lady, and to Hades with the consequences.’

  He locked stares with his sparring partner, a faint smile of challenge on his face. The older man nodded solemnly, raising his cup again, looking about the table to be sure he had his colleagues’ full attention

  ‘Gentlemen, a toast! I’ll drink to the man that made sure our brother had a bride to marry today. To my friend and brother Dubnus, the man with the biggest balls in all the cohort!’

  When the officers were seated again Felicia, recognising that the time had come for the officers to celebrate the event in their own exuberant manner, stood up and begged the party’s forgiveness for her inevitable fatigue, a request greeted by a chorus of understanding and concern. Marcus took her arm and led her from the room with a grateful nod to Tribune Scaurus for his hospitality, leaving the centurions grinning knowingly at each other. Otho raised his cup, a broad grin splitting his battered face.

  ‘Well, it is their wedding night! And young Marcus needs to get as much sack time in as possible before the lady’s too far gone for riding!’

  Dubnus leaned over and clipped him playfully around the head, ducking away from the return blow and raising his own cup in challenge.

  ‘A song! Come on, Knuckles, you punch-drunk old bastard, start us off!’

  Otho glared at him in mock annoyance, then threw his head back and bellowed the first lines of an old favourite at the ceiling.

  ‘When I’m on patrol the farmers hide their chickens and their eggs,

  And watch their daughters just in case I sneak between their legs,

  But they forget that I will take my pleasure where I can …’

  The other centurions joined in for the verse’s last line, their voices raised to a roar that put a wry smile on Scaurus’s face.

  ‘So I shag the sheep and the billy goat too, ’cause I’m a Tungrian!’

  As the other centurions joined in Julius went to fill up Dubnus’s cup, only to find the younger man’s hand covering it. He raised an eyebrow, bending close to shout in the younger man’s ear.

  ‘What’s wrong with you? Losing your taste for the wine already?’

  Dubnus shook his head, pointing at the cup.

  ‘Just half a cup, and I’ll water it. I’ve got to march east tomorrow with half a dozen disgraced road menders who insist on coming along for the walk.’

  Julius raised his eyebrows in question, but Dubnus shook his head disparagingly.

  ‘It’s no big thing, just an errand I promised to run for a man I met on the North Road.’

  Otho threw his head back again, bellowing out the next verse while his brother officers raised their cups to him and drained them. Outside, in the fort’s torchlit road, with the boisterous singing audible over the wind’s moan as it pulled at the fort’s exposed roofs, Felicia stopped walking down the steep slope to Marcus’s quarters at the end of the 9th Century’s barrack, and turned to her new husband with a gentle smile.

  ‘Go back in, Marcus. Go and join them, just for a while. I’m too tired to do anything but fall asleep the moment I get into bed, so you might as well enjoy the company of your friends. They’ve taken you into their family, so you should go and be part of it when you have the chance.’

  The young centurion walked back into the praetorium’s dining room to a chorus of ribald abuse centred on the obvious fact that he had clearly been unable to satisfy his woman, smiling resignedly as he took the brimming cup offered to him by Julius.

  ‘Well, if you’ve come back to join the party, Two Knives, you’d better sing the next verse!’

  Egged on by the ra
ucous centurions, he stepped forward and took a gulp of wine, then roared out the lines he’d sung so often with his century on the march.

  ‘I’m back from bloody battle, I’ve got money on my belt,

  And I’m full enough of spunk to make an armoured codpiece melt …’

  Outside, standing close to the room’s window, Felicia heard his voice raised in song and smiled to herself, putting a hand to her gently bulging belly and moving off down the road’s slope to their quarters.

  ‘A lifetime or a year, my love, we’ll make every moment precious.’

  The wind from the sea was bitingly cold by the time Clodia had finished her work at the Waterside Fort’s official guest house, her legs aching from a day spent on her feet, cleaning and cooking for the house’s guests. She stepped out into the torchlit street, shaking her head in disgust as a pair of soldiers paused in their staggering progress from the vicus alehouse back to their barracks to leer drunkenly at her, but her discouragement only seemed to encourage the pair to push harder at her misery. One of them stayed rooted to the spot, too drunk to participate in the fun, but the other man, a heavyset watch officer who had long expressed an interest in her, persisted with a staggering walk that put him firmly in her path, swaying and pointing a finger at her with a knowing leer.