by Tanya Bird
She lifted her chin. ‘But not the skill.’ Her eyes went to the huts once more. ‘I’m a better fighter than most of the men up there and you know it.’
‘So was your mother.’
That silenced her for a moment. ‘Well, I don’t recall her hiding up trees.’
‘You weren’t hiding. You had a job.’
‘I had an opportunity.’
He sighed and placed an enormous hand on her shoulder. ‘How will our people ever come back from this if all the fertile women are dead?’
Had it really come to that? ‘Alane could have a few more on my behalf.’
Seisyll could not stop the laugh that erupted from him. ‘Put that useless horse to pasture and come help the healers with their work.’ He looked over his shoulder. ‘There are more wounds than hands to mend them, and I’m leaving in the morning.’
‘Let someone else track the legion’s progress. You’re exhausted.’
He shook his head and brought a hand up to touch the cut above his eye. Another battle marked on him. ‘I’m not following them. I’m going east.’
Brei swallowed. There had been talk of Roman ships anchored offshore. They were being caged in. ‘I’ll come with you.’
‘No.’
‘You cannot fight an entire fleet with a handful of men.’
He rubbed at his beard, looking far more tired with every passing moment. ‘And I cannot leave the village unprotected.’ He looked past her to where their sheep were grazing. ‘I want you and Alane to take half the flock north-west. Leave them somewhere they’ll be easily found.’
‘By who?’
‘The soldiers.’
She understood then. There were not enough of them to fight every threat. Putting food in their path might prevent them from venturing off to go looking for it. ‘You want me to move some sheep?’
‘Get ahead of the legion, and then get out.’ He brushed a finger under her chin and turned away.
Brei watched him leave before walking over to the gelding. If she had managed to kill the legate, that conversation would have gone very differently. She recalled the thrill of knocking him from his horse, then the moment he had laid eyes on her for the first time. His hard-set face had softened, and his sword had wavered. She was no fool. He had let her live—and she had let the fact trip her.
Taking hold of the gelding’s bridle, she looked him in the eye. ‘Next time, I’ll save one arrow just for him. If he doesn’t want to fight me up close, he can die from afar.’ The horse remained wary as she rubbed his muzzle before taking the reins. ‘Come. You better not be afraid of sheep.’
Chapter 3
Seven hundred and forty-six. That was the number of men he had lost in one attack. The part that hit Nerva the hardest was that they had been out-slaughtered four to one. Their enemy was dictating the terms of the fight. Their land, their rules, apparently.
The legion had made it to Longforgan without further incident, making camp in the dark and spending the evening tallying their losses. The next morning, they rose early and prepared to start again.
‘The men are ready to depart,’ Marcus said, striding alongside Nerva.
‘Good.’ Nerva looked around at the rows of men, packs loaded on their backs awaiting marching orders. ‘I want some of the cavalry to ride ahead.’
‘I sent twenty men ahead of us this morning. They reported back just a short while ago.’
Nerva stopped walking and turned to his friend with a concerned look. Marcus stopped also, a wry smile on his face.
‘If it was bad news, I would’ve said something sooner.’
Nerva crossed his arms. ‘You understand my reaction. We have not had much good news thus far. What did they find?’
‘Sheep.’
Nerva’s eyebrows rose. ‘Sheep?’
‘Fifty head or so.’
Nerva looked back at his men as he thought. ‘And no village in the vicinity?’
‘Not unless it’s underground.’
Nerva resumed walking. ‘Would not put it past them. Do you not find it odd?’
‘Of course I do.’
‘And it is not the first time.’
Marcus looked across at him. ‘You think they’re leaving breadcrumbs?’
‘Yes.’ Nerva came to a stop in front of his horse—his new horse. ‘They are trying to keep us on route.’
‘So they can lay traps?’
Nerva mounted and gathered the reins, then waited for Marcus to do the same. ‘Maybe. Or perhaps to keep us away from their villages.’
‘So, we change route.’
Nerva thought for a moment. ‘Or we stay on route, keep them happy, then send some men on a detour.’ He kicked his horse into a trot. ‘Let us take a look at these sheep.’
The flock was five miles north-east of the camp, grazing out in the open. Nerva sent soldiers in all directions to ensure no one was waiting for them; then, once he had established the area was safe, he gave the instruction for the flock to be slaughtered for food. Dismounting, he bent and studied the hoof prints in the grass, running a finger over them before looking in the direction they trailed off.
Paulus Cordius rode up with his usual scowl and stopped his horse next to Nerva’s. ‘Horses?’
‘Looks that way.’
‘Unusual.’ The commander looked around. ‘They usually travel on foot so we cannot track them.’
Nerva rose. ‘Perhaps they needed to get in and out fast.’
Marcus rode up, and Paulus stiffened in the saddle as he approached.
‘What is it?’ Marcus asked, pulling up his horse and jumping down to join Nerva.
‘You are the horse breeder,’ Paulus said. ‘What does it look like?’
Nerva looked up at the commander, then down at the ground. While Marcus did not like Paulus, he was outranked by the man and always behaved accordingly.
‘Well, one is a highlander pony, the other is not.’
Paulus’s smug expression fell just a little. ‘Are you seriously trying to pretend you can tell that from a hoof print?’
‘Yes.’ Marcus looked up at him.
Nerva kept his eyes on the ground so Paulus would not see how much he was enjoying the moment.
‘Different weight, size, but more obviously, different gait.’
Paulus looked away. ‘So what? Perhaps they were moving at different speeds.’
‘It’s possible.’
Nerva squinted across at him. ‘Is it also possible that it is one of ours?’ If it was his, even better. Not only did he want his gelding back, he wanted to teach the woman who stole him a lesson.
Paulus’s gaze was steady on him. ‘Exactly how many soldiers had their horses stolen by women during yesterday’s battle?’
‘Watch yourself,’ Nerva replied, staring at him until he looked away. The one time Nerva had ordered Paulus be disciplined for insubordination, Caracalla had come to the commander’s aid. The fact that the two had been friends since childhood made him somewhat untouchable. ‘I am going to take one century east, see where these lead.’
Paulus all but rolled his eyes. ‘That is not a lot of men if you run into trouble.’
Nerva mounted his horse once more. ‘I do not want to draw attention. I trust you can lead the rest of the men in my absence.’
Paulus gave a firm nod. ‘Of course.’
‘Good. Furnia, you are with me. Gather the men we need.’
Paulus levelled Marcus with a look before swinging his horse around and riding off.
‘I think you hurt his feelings,’ Marcus said as he mounted.
Nerva looked after the commander. ‘He has no interest in accompanying me anywhere. The man cannot wait for me to die so that he can replace me. He will be thrilled to have me out of the way for the day.’
‘I’d like to disagree, but I’m afraid you’re right. Best watch your back.’
Nerva’s mouth lifted slightly. ‘That is what I have you for.’
Soon after, the men gathered eight
y soldiers and marched east. The tracks led them back into the forest, where they rode beneath alder and willow trees, silent and watchful. A few hours later, they came across a stream, and the tracks disappeared into the water.
Nerva raised a hand as he came to a stop.
‘Halt,’ called the centurion behind him. The men stopped marching.
‘Can’t see where they left the stream,’ Marcus said, looking around the bank on the other side. He glanced both ways. ‘Which way?’
Nerva walked his mare into the water and looked both ways. He should not have been surprised that their enemy had found a way to make horses disappear. ‘Upstream. If their village was south, I doubt they would have gone to all that effort.’ He looked back in the direction they had come. ‘How fresh would you say those tracks are?’
‘Overnight. I don’t think we missed them by much.’
Nerva nodded, then walked his horse up onto the bank on the other side. ‘I am going to ride ahead and see if I pick up their tracks. You continue with the men and meet me farther up.’
‘You’re going alone?’
‘They will hear a group of us a mile away.’
Marcus glanced about. ‘Well, don’t get too far ahead. If you run into trouble, we need to be able to hear your dying screams.’
Nerva smiled to himself and kicked his horse into a slow canter.
Chapter 4
The gelding was fast, and Brei pushed him faster still, ducking beneath branches as she wove between thick alder trunks. The wind dried the smile on her face. The horse might not have been as sure-footed as their highland ponies, but he was a lot more fun.
‘Slow down!’ Alane whispered behind her. ‘We’re supposed to stay together and not attract attention. In case you’ve forgotten, we’re at war—and a long way from home.’
Brei slowed the gelding to a walk. ‘That’s why we have bows.’
Alane laughed. ‘One bow and a handful of arrows each. Is that supposed to make me feel better?’
‘You’d be surprised what I can do with a handful of arrows.’
Alane cast a disapproving glance at Brei as she came up beside her. ‘We should let the horses drink at the stream before we leave it behind. It will be their last chance for some time.’
They had travelled south to cover their tracks before leaving the water and heading north beneath the cover of the trees. It was only a precaution. The Romans would be busily slaughtering their fat sheep and dreaming up dinner recipes before moving on.
Brei listened to the calls of dippers and wagtails in the trees around them. ‘We should hunt on our way home now that half our flock is gone.’
Alane looked around. ‘If there’s anything left to hunt. By the time the Romans leave, these mountains will be nothing but barren hills.’ She swung her horse in the direction of the stream. ‘If they leave at all.’
Brei looked across at her sister. ‘They won’t have a choice. We’ll make them leave.’
The women fell silent, listening for the sound of running water. A gentle decline led down to the small stream they had been following. It held water most of the year. When it came into sight, Brei stopped her horse and held her hand up. Alane pulled up her mare and looked about. There were no birds singing anymore. She looked to Brei as though waiting for an explanation, but all she had to offer was a feeling, a feeling that had been right plenty of times in the past.
The sound of a horse approaching made them both turn. Brei signalled to her sister to take cover, and they moved behind the tree trunks, holding their breath as a soldier cantered by. If the man had bothered checking his surroundings, he might have spotted the horses, but he was too busy searching for hoof prints he would never find.
‘I thought you said they wouldn’t follow us,’ Alane whispered once he had passed.
Brei stared after him. ‘It’s just one man, and he’s not tracking us because Romans have no idea how to track properly.’
‘Forget the water. Let’s go.’
Brei shook her head. ‘No, we should follow him.’
‘Why?’
‘To make sure he leaves.’ She pushed her horse into a trot.
‘Are you crazy? We need to go before he sees us.’
Brei did not slow down. ‘Father left me in charge, and we’re going to follow him.’
Alane made an exasperated noise before pushing her horse forwards.
The women trailed after him at a safe distance, until the soldier came to a stop. He removed his helmet and looked around with a confused and frustrated expression. Brei could not hear his thoughts, but she recognised defeat on his face.
‘Now can we go?’ Alane whispered, her voice so quiet it barely carried the three feet between them.
Brei narrowed her eyes on the man. There was something familiar about him that made all the hairs on her body stand on end. When he looked in their direction, her breath caught.
‘What?’ Alane asked.
Brei blinked. ‘It’s the general.’
‘The general?’
The man dismounted, laid down his shield, and bent to scoop up some water with his hands. He drank, then splashed some over his face. Brei took in his neatly cut hair and clean-shaven face, his polished armour and his leather boots where woollen socks poked out of the top. Her gaze drifted to the crested helmet tucked under his arm. It was him all right.
‘What’s he doing out here alone?’ Alane whispered.
Brei had been wondering the same thing, but she was not going to let an opportunity slip through her fingers while she pondered the matter. ‘Stay here,’ she whispered, pushing her horse into a walk.
Alane shook her head, eyes pleading. ‘Don’t you dare.’
Brei was already reaching for her bow. An unguarded legate was an opportunity that would never come again. She could not just hide in the trees while he drank and washed in water belonging to her people. Kill him now or on the battlefield later.
‘Brei’ came a final plea from her sister.
The running water made enough noise to prevent them from being heard. The Maeatae could move soundlessly through the forest if they needed to, something the Romans knew nothing about. Their approach could be heard a mile away.
Drawing an arrow, Brei loaded her bow and took aim at him. But just as the string went taut, his head snapped up and he looked straight at her. The string slackened in her hand. His gaze fell to the horse she sat on, and his jaw tightened. She pulled the string tight once more and let go. Too late. He dropped to the ground, flattening himself against the mud. The arrow passed over the water, lodging in a tree on the other side of the stream. As she reached for another, he snatched up a shield and leapt to his feet. He ran towards her instead of away. She might not have been able to penetrate his shield, but she would have no problem taking out one of his knees.
As she took aim, he called out in Brittonic, ‘Give me the horse, and I will let you live.’
She stilled once more. Who on earth was he talking to? Surely not her. She released the second arrow just as he dropped his shield to the ground, predicting her target. He cursed in Latin and continued forwards while pulling a dagger from a sheath belted to his waist. He tossed it up in the air and caught it by the blade, preparing to throw it. ‘My aim is much better than yours. One way or another, I am leaving with my horse.’
She shot the arrow at his head, but he raised his shield in time. He stopped running then, lowering it a few inches to look at her. Her bow was reloaded and aimed at him once more. His dagger was still in hand.
‘Give me the horse and your weapons, and I will let you walk away.’
She laughed. ‘How about I keep the horse and kill you?’
Neither of them moved.
‘What is it you Romans say?’ Brei said, keeping a trained eye on the dagger. ‘The spoils of war are for the victor.’
His shield fell a little. ‘Well, the war is not over yet.’
‘And yet I’m the one seated on your horse.’
; Something resembling amusement flashed in his eyes. ‘Only once I am dead can you lay claim to him.’ He shifted slightly to the right, as though trying to see something, then frowned. ‘Where is my saddle?’
Brei released another arrow. It struck the ground beside his foot. He surprised her by not moving a muscle, instead returning his dagger to its sheath. She reloaded her bow and aimed it at his face. Their encounter was not a friendly one.
‘I do not want to kill you,’ he said, ‘so what am I supposed to do here?’
‘You had no problem killing my mother.’ The moment the words left her mouth, she wished she could snatch them back.
Pity flashed on his face, but before he had a chance to speak, Alane emerged from behind a tree, aiming another arrow at him. She was not a warrior in any sense of the word, but she could kill to protect her family if it were necessary.
The man turned his head to look at her. ‘You really are like ghosts.’
‘Better ghosts than monsters,’ Brei replied.
The legate’s gaze returned to her, and he let out a tired breath. ‘You need to go before my men show up.’
Did he think her stupid? ‘I let you live once. I won’t make that mistake again.’ She could have sworn she saw amusement flash in his eyes.
‘You let me live?’
The snap of a stick breaking underfoot made her head whip around. At least a dozen Roman soldiers stood in a line behind her, swords drawn. She spun back to look at the legate just as her sister let an arrow fly. He ducked left and it passed over his right shoulder before skirting along the forest floor.
‘Release another arrow and you will both die,’ he said, his tone firm but calm.
If they were going to die, then Brei was taking him down first, and his men could watch. But when she took aim, she felt a familiar hesitation.
‘What are your orders?’ called one of the soldiers.
Her hands grew damp as she waited for his reply.
He looked straight at her. ‘These women are going to drop their weapons on the ground, dismount, and walk calmly away.’
The soldier cleared his throat. ‘But Caracalla’s orders—’
