Glory of Rome: (Gaius Valerius Verrens 8)

by Douglas Jackson

  Antonius, unfamiliar with this stretch of river, found it more difficult to find a sheltered position to lie up for the day, and it was only in the first light of dawn he saw what he was looking for. The action of the river had cut away the earth bank almost back to the roots of a large clump of trees whose branches hung close to the surface of the water. By deft manoeuvring he was able to guide the galley between the branches and the river edge and tie up against an exposed root. The only disadvantage was that the bank here was so steep it was impossible for anyone to go ashore. Valerius and his men wriggled into the least intolerable position and attempted to get what rest they could. Eventually the one-handed Roman gave up even trying to sleep and joined Antonius where he sat, red-eyed, in the bow, staring upstream through the lattice of branches. In the next few hours they saw three or four native river craft, tree trunk canoes heaped with merchandise in two cases, and a pair of the odd leather and willow craft the two children had been sailing. These were crewed by two men who drifted on the current a short spear-cast apart with a net between their boats. Antonius’s right hand slipped towards his sword hilt at the sight of them, but all kept to midstream and none of the crews even looked in the direction of the trees.

  ‘Let’s hope they’re home in their beds by the time we have to move,’ Antonius said. ‘I don’t like the idea of moving about in daylight up here, but there’s no help for it. We won’t find the red cliff in the dark.’

  ‘You seemed confident enough when we talked earlier.’

  The sailor looked over his shoulder to where his oarsmen slept at their benches. ‘That was for the benefit of the crew. You don’t get the best out of them by telling them they’re all going to die.’

  ‘You really think that?’

  ‘I think you’re going to get us all killed, legate. Even if you do rescue your men we’ll never get back to the Rhenus alive. Every tribesman in Germania will be after your head.’

  ‘And yours.’ Valerius smiled.

  ‘And mine. We have a stack of pila in the bilges. They’re for the marines who usually sail with us, but I plan to issue them to your men tonight. I take it they know how to use them?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘So if we do happen to meet any peaceful traders or fishermen when we’re looking for the red cliffs I want your assurance there won’t be any more misplaced mercy.’

  The words were so innocuous that it took time for Valerius to understand their true meaning. ‘You think I was wrong to let the children live?’

  ‘I think they complicate things. If you don’t mind my saying so, you are an odd character, legate.’

  ‘And if I did mind?’

  ‘I’m only a humble river rat and you could squash me without a thought, but even so I don’t think you’re the vindictive type. On the one hand you’re prepared to risk your own rather valuable life and those of thirty odd other men to try to retrieve two dispensable cavalry troopers who are probably already dead. On the other you appear too squeamish to cut the throats of two members of a tribe our venerable empire regards as rather less than vermin.’ He nodded at Valerius’s wooden hand. ‘If my guess is right, you’ve spilled blood before. It would have been much simpler to kill them. You could have drowned them and tossed the bodies back into the river and no one would have been any the wiser, but of course you know that.’

  Valerius trailed his single hand in the water, enjoying the sensation of being caressed by nature. Was it his vanity that had brought them here, rather than a desire to save Crescens who – if he was being entirely honest – wasn’t worth saving, and Florus, who was little better? He looked up and met Antonius’s steady gaze. ‘I’ve killed enough people to believe that you don’t draw a sword unless it’s truly necessary. Don’t misunderstand me, I’ll kill if I have to, but this would have been murder. I am many things, Antonius, but I have never been a murderer.’

  ‘They tell me some people get a taste for it.’

  ‘That’s true.’ He’d known men who revelled in butchery from dawn to dusk and woke up the next morning still with an appetite for death. ‘But it gets to them in the end. How did it affect you?’

  Antonius laughed. ‘I’ve never killed anyone. The Germani don’t come near naval craft. All I do is transport killers like you where they want to go. Are you superstitious, legate?’

  ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘Because,’ said Antonius, ‘the only thing that’s got us this far has been Fortuna’s favour. Pure luck. Every man on this ship wears a charm around his neck.’ He reached up and pulled out a tiny winged phallus on a leather thong. ‘Every man except you.’

  Valerius laughed. ‘I think a man makes his own luck. Besides,’ he held up the wooden fist, ‘this is my lucky charm.’ He reached across and pressed the little metal protrusion on the wrist. With a sharp snick the four-inch knife blade appeared, the point glittering needle sharp.

  Antonius blinked, but a broad grin spread across his face. ‘I too think a man needs to make his own luck,’ he said. ‘Do you trust your guide?’

  ‘Regulus said we could rely on him. Do you think he’s mistaken?’

  ‘I think our friend spends too much time looking around him with a look of frank bewilderment. The look of a man who has no idea where he is. He may have been east once, but he is no guide. Someone has told him about the red cliffs and the valley that leads to this village. I think the lure of the tribune’s silver was too much for him. It is my belief he will not be able to guide you to the settlement in the dark.’

  Valerius nodded thoughtfully. Antonius had voiced his own unspoken doubts. ‘What do you suggest?’

  ‘I think there would be no greater risk setting off now than in three or four hours. If we can find the red cliffs quickly, we’ll land you with a few hours of daylight to spare. Enough perhaps to let you get close to the witch’s settlement before dark.’

  ‘We have no idea whether the valley is inhabited,’ Valerius pointed out. ‘Whether there is a road, or a track, or how well used it is.’

  ‘All the more reason to pass through it in daylight. From what I’ve seen you have men who are well capable of finding a way undiscovered.’

  Valerius thought of Shabolz and his comrades and the way they’d slipped so effortlessly through the woods to thwart the Chatti ambush. He made his decision. ‘Very well. We’ll leave as soon as you can make the ship ready.’

  Antonius started issuing orders, and his men went into the well-practised routine of preparing to cast off. Two sailors disappeared into the bowels of the little ship and reappeared with armfuls of pila. Valerius watched as they distributed them among the mystified cavalrymen. ‘If we meet a Chatti river craft,’ he told them, ‘no one must be left alive. Cast straight and do not fall overboard because we won’t be coming back for you.’ They laughed, all except Serenus, who spat over the side.

  Antonius kept well into the left bank and they rowed upstream in a tense silence, eyeing the wooded hills that loomed over the river. Valerius had never felt so exposed as they pushed against the current in the afternoon sunlight, the river glittering like molten silver ahead. All it would take was one enemy to see them and the whole country would be alerted. At any moment he expected a boat to appear round the next bend, or the one after.

  ‘Not far now,’ the guide announced for the third or fourth time. Someone in the bows produced a scornful laugh, but when they turned the next loop in the river Antonius pointed ahead to where a sheer pink slope was visible among the trees on the southern bank.

  ‘The red cliffs.’

  XVIII

  Antonius barked an order and the galley swept left to land them dryfoot on a gravel beach on the north bank. Valerius stepped ashore four hundred paces downstream from the cleft in the wooded hills the guide claimed would carry them towards the settlement.

  ‘Are you certain you want to continue, lord?’ the young sailor asked quietly. ‘Like as not they’re already dead.’

  The same thought had crossed Valeri
us’s mind. But … ‘It’s only four days since the Chatti took them. Thanks to you and your crew we’ve made good speed upriver. In country like this it would take a man on foot at least three days to get here from the Rhenus, perhaps more. My instinct tells me they’re still alive.’

  ‘Then I’ll bid you farewell,’ Antonius said. ‘The less we’re on the river in daylight the better. I’ll be here at dawn tomorrow. Then dawn the day after. We’ll beach her here, camouflage her and remain until noon.’

  Valerius offered his wooden fist. ‘You have your orders. If we’re not back by then we’re not coming back. Release the children as close to where we found them as you can.’

  ‘You’ll be back.’ Antonius clasped the artificial hand. ‘Your kind always gets back. And when you do you’ll really see how quickly Rapid Racer can fly.’ He boarded the ship and ran to the steering platform. ‘If you’re in real trouble and need to get out quickly,’ he called, ‘we’ll be anchored behind the trees where we stopped today.’

  Hilario and four or five others helped push the ship off the gravel and the oars flashed. Within a dozen strokes Rapid Racer was out of sight and they were alone.

  Valerius turned and found every man staring at him. ‘Don’t just stand there,’ he rasped. ‘Get everything back into the trees. We’ll eat now and fill our water skins, but be ready to move within the hour. Shabolz?’

  ‘Lord?’

  ‘Take the guide and check out the valley. If there’s a road, is it a busy one? If the answer’s yes, can we find an alternative route through the forest?’

  Shabolz called softly to the guide and they set off upstream. The Pannonian returned before Valerius had eaten his rough porridge, with the guide trotting behind gasping for breath. ‘There’s a road, lord,’ Shabolz confirmed. ‘More of a dirt track, four hundred paces east. It’s well worn and leads to a wooden jetty upstream, but there are no fresh tracks. I scouted north for almost a mile without seeing any sign of life, but the valley narrows and the scrub is thick. If we’re going anywhere in a hurry we need to use the road.’

  ‘All right.’ Valerius waved him to a grassy mound. ‘Sit down. Didius, get him something to eat.’ The guide hovered close, but Valerius waved him away. ‘What did you think of our friend?’

  Shabolz accepted a bowl from Didius and muttered his thanks. ‘He knows as much about this place as I do, lord.’ He took a spoonful of porridge and gulped it down. ‘Moves with all the stealth of a buffalo and he would have marched out into the road without checking. He may be a good spy, but he’s no guide.’

  So Antonius’s instincts had been correct. ‘Then you’ll have to be our guide,’ Valerius said. Shabolz nodded without interrupting his intake of porridge. ‘Wash off the soot and take your pick of the clothes we took from the Germani we killed. You and two others. Two of you will scout four hundred paces or so ahead of the column, with one man two hundred paces behind you. At the first sign of anyone on the track signal back and have the rear man report to me. Unless they’re on horses that should give us time to disappear into the woods.’

  ‘No horse tracks that I could make out, lord.’

  ‘Good. I hesitate to ask, given your opinion of him, but should you take the guide with you? At need he could talk you out of trouble.’ Shabolz dropped his head and concentrated on finishing his food. ‘Say your piece, trooper. You don’t need to be shy with me.’

  ‘I’d rather he stayed.’ The Pannonian’s chin came up. ‘A man like that. Who would know what he was saying? I know the Germani from the rebellion, lord. They’re a surly people. A snarl and a spit and give way to none. No need for conversation.’

  They marched in a compact column of twos, with Valerius in the lead. He concentrated on what lay ahead, on the strengths and weaknesses of his little command, and the perils they would undoubtedly face. Stealth would be the key. No charging into a settlement of five or six hundred Chatti and hoping to get out alive. This would be like Jerusalem, where he’d twice slipped unnoticed inside the city walls, but there would be no convenient Conduit of Hezekiah to smooth his passage. She has a house in the sky where she devours her victims, the girl had said. But what did it mean? Regulus had suggested the Chatti and their allies considered Aurinia a goddess. Perhaps her temple was a house on stilts, of the type he’d seen in the Batavian lands. It would make things complicated, but not impossible.

  His mind went back to what Antonius had said as they parted. Your kind always gets back. Another riddle. Your kind? A leader. A veteran. A proper soldier. Whatever the sailor meant, he was right. Valerius had lost his hand to an Iceni blade in the maelstrom of Boudicca’s rebellion and suffered a dozen honourable wounds since. He should have died more times than he could count, but he had always survived. Yet he wasn’t so vain as to believe Antonius had been flattering him. What he’d meant was a man ruthless enough to do what was needed. A man prepared to keep going when every other man had given up. A man who could look death in the face and be uncowed. And he was right. Valerius had inherited all these traits from his old friend Serpentius, the former gladiator. Yet there had come a day when Serpentius lay lifeless in the dust after sacrificing himself for Valerius and a Rome the one-handed legate was uncertain even existed.

  Gradually, he settled into the familiar rhythm of the march, a world of tramping feet, clinking chain and buzzing insects, sweat running into your eyes, the straps of your water skin and your pack cutting into your shoulders, and your aching legs reminding you of every change in incline and that you were no longer twenty years old.

  Twice in the next hour Shabolz sent back word that they should take to the trees, provoking a hurried but disciplined rush up the flanking slopes. Valerius delayed long enough to ensure nothing had been left to mark their position before joining the cavalrymen in the forest.

  After about an hour Shabolz himself appeared, and Valerius ordered the men into the trees while he spoke to the Pannonian.

  ‘The situation is this, lord.’ Shabolz used the point of his dagger to draw the shape of a T in the dust. ‘A few hundred paces ahead this track meets a much wider road used by carts and horse traffic. I sent Licco to climb the hill next to the road and he reports that there is smoke from the fires of a settlement to the east.’

  ‘Did he manage to get any impression of the size?’

  ‘No, lord, but there is a second hill much closer to the settlement. Licco believes he can take us there before dark, but we must move without delay.’ He pointed to the trees where the men were concealed. ‘If we push upwards across the line of the slope we will meet the others. Licco will lead from there.’

  The going was much harder in the trees, with their route dictated by outcrops and rock falls and the steepness of the slope. They found Licco and the other man waiting on a knoll, grinning at the sight of their red-faced, gasping comrades. Licco led them across the shoulder of the hill, and Valerius saw the smear of smoke in the blue sky that he prayed marked Aurinia’s settlement.

  A steep gully blocked their way and they paused while Licco searched for a way down. While they waited, Hilario approached Valerius with a look of concern on his face.

  ‘The guide is gone,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Gone?’

  ‘He said he needed to piss and would catch us up, but he never reappeared. I went back to search, but there’s no sign of him.’

  Valerius called Shabolz over and explained the situation. The Pannonian grimaced. ‘He will sell us to the Chatti,’ he said. ‘I think he always intended to.’

  Valerius cursed silently. ‘This is my fault. I should have set someone to watch him,’ he said. ‘He will try to reach the road. Can you get to him first?’

  Shabolz shrugged. ‘If I can’t we’re all dead.’

  ‘I’ll come with you.’ Hilario unslung his packs and pulled his chain armour over his head.

  Shabolz looked at Valerius, who nodded his assent.

  ‘You’d better be quick and quiet, my Roman friend,’ Shabolz sneered. ‘I w
on’t be waiting around for you.’

  ‘You won’t have to slow down for me, you Pannonian mountain monkey. I’m only coming along in case the weasel decides to take your head to the witch as a gift.’

  They continued to bicker as they set off up the hill. Valerius shook his head and went back to the lip of the gorge where Licco had just reappeared. ‘There’s a deer track that’s just about passable, lord, and a fallen tree that we can use to cross the river.’ He looked around the waiting men. ‘Shabolz?’

  ‘Shabolz is busy. He’ll meet us on the next hill.’

  It took another hour before they emerged from the trees just below the rocky summit. The cavalrymen slumped on the ground and Licco led Valerius through the boulders to a point where the landscape was laid out before him like a mosaic.

  He was astonished to discover that Guda, probably four miles from the position Antonius had landed them, was built on one of the few pieces of flat ground adjacent to the bank of the Logana. A huge loop of the river curved through the thickly wooded hills and their four-mile trek had crossed the base of it. The Chatti settlement was surrounded by a flimsy palisade and bisected by a small stream. Perhaps two hundred turf-walled longhouses were scattered haphazardly across an area the size of two legionary encampments, and smoke from cooking fires seeped through their thatched roofs. A double gate in the western wall mirrored a second on the river side. Valerius could see people moving about between the buildings and the animal pens.

  Only one thing set Guda apart from any other Germanic settlement.

  An area in the centre of the town had been left clear so that the curious structure which occupied it was visible from every angle. It resembled a Roman signal tower, but was at least twice – possibly even three times – the height. A skeletal timber structure rose to a first platform perhaps fifty feet up, and a second a further twenty-five. Valerius’s initial reaction was that it must be some kind of lookout position, but then he noticed the lower platform was occupied by a roofed building.