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.
