commander’s supply; from my supplies, you see. Well, it’s not as though I had any more spare food than any other man; I was living on the same rations as them, but some men will always think their officers feast on a roast hog while they starve. The thieves attacked the guards when they were spotted and almost killed one of them before they were overcome.”
He squared his shoulders.
“Well, what could I do? I know there were extenuating circumstances, but there comes a point when discipline has to be maintained, even at the expense of personal preference.”
“What did you do, Sir?”
“We found out who the ringleader was; a promising young soldier called Terentius. He took responsibility straight away. Good man really. It meant he saved his companions.”
Varro glanced across at his young audience and let out an explosive sigh.
“I had the other two beat him to death on the parade ground in front of the entire cohort.”
Salonius lowered his eyes.
“It’s all about discipline, Salonius” the captain added. “You sometimes have to make hard choices and do unpleasant things because, if you don’t, you lose control and without control an army turns into a wolf pack.”
Salonius nodded.
“I understand that sir; I’m just not sure whether I’d be able to do that.”
“Then I hope you’re never given the situation.”
The young man continued to nod, grimly. “So what do we do when we get to the outpost? Those two men are probably entirely innocent.”
“Relax” Varro smiled. “Catilina and I worked that out while you were keeping watch.”
The way station was more of a small fortress than a simple outpost. Four walls roughly two hundred feet long enclosed two barracks, a commander’s room, garrison office, a small granary and storeroom and a small house to provide accommodation for passing dignitaries, Imperial couriers or men of rank. The single, heavy gate was surmounted by a higher parapet. And yet this small fort seemed strangely quiet and empty as Catilina approached, the gentle breeze that flowed down the valley rippling the rough and basic cloak wrapped around her.
As she walked, she carefully kicked up as much dust as she could, to dirty her clothing and make herself appear more mean and poor than her clothes would normally suggest. Her arm was beginning to ache from the heavy bundle of sticks she carried awkwardly. The gate of the way station stood open, surprisingly. She narrowed her eyes and squinted through the dust she’d created. Two figures stood deep in conversation in the gate’s interior.
Salonius and Varro had been careful to stay far enough back that there was no chance of being spotted from the station but, given the soldiers’ lack of attention, they could likely have walked up to the gate before being seen. Still, while her father would have the men hauled over the coals for their ineptitude, she had no complaints since it all served their cause so well.
Finally, as she was little more than ten yards away, one of the men spotted her and held his spear point toward her menacingly.
“Who’s that?” he barked.
“Sir…” she called back, hurrying, but giving herself a slight shuffling gait.
“I said who goes there?”
Catilina smiled inwardly. Varro had insisted that they’d need a signal, but she’d been sure he’d be able to tell when she’d arrived. She shuffled to a halt and waved her sticks as best she could.”
“Magda… from the farm, sir!”
The spear wavered for a moment and the second man stepped out of the gate’s shadow and into the sunlight.
“What do you want, woman!”
“Your men…” she broke into a grating cough that positively reeked of serious illness. Her mother had always said that if the family lost their wealth and privilege Catilina had a future on the stage. It was important to both create the right impression and to drag this encounter out as long as she could.
“What!”
The man was quickly getting angry. Balance was required. She couldn’t afford to lose his attention, but she also could not have him run and fetch his horse.
“Your men… down to the village.”
“What about them!” As the first man grounded his spear, Catilina tried not to smile. The other, more senior, guard reached out and grasped her by the upper arms. Over his shoulder, she watched Varro step like a cat from the bushes beside the fort and creep along the wall toward the relaxing guard’s back. She looked up into the commander’s eyes.
“Your men are in danger!”
“Why?” He swung his arm up to bring it down in a ringing slap, but at the apex it would not descend. He looked round in surprise and Salonius’ face split into a wide grin.
“Morning.”
The guard started to open his mouth, but the pommel of Salonius’ sword thunked into the back of his head with some force and his eyes glazed over as he slowly collapsed. Salonius caught him by the arm before he could slump too far and lifted him, slinging him over a shoulder. The young man smiled at Catilina and turned with his burden to see Varro dragging the other man, unconscious, toward the gate.
As the two soldiers dropped their prisoners unceremoniously in the first building they found, Catilina searched the store and reappeared with a roll of twine. As she and Salonius busily set about binding the wrists and ankles of the two men, Varro stuffed bundles of cloth into their mouths and gagged them.
Finally the three stepped back to admire their handiwork and Catilina smiled.
“You do realise we’ve probably only an hour or so before those riders come back. We need to get a good head start.”
Varro nodded.
“Leave that to me” he smiled as he ushered them out of the building and closed the door. “You go out and get the horses ready.”
As his companions left the fort, Varro stopped behind them and closed and barred the heavy gate. Happy with the result, he ascended the staircase to the wall. Looking down the twenty five feet from the wall walk to the dust, he took a deep breath and swung his legs out over the drop. He heard Catilina draw a sharp breath and, smiling, lowered himself until only his fingertips clutched the wall and let himself drop.
“Let’s get going. If we ride hard and through the night, we should be at Saravis Fork by sunset tomorrow.”
Chapter Eight
They’d made excellent time. The high saddle of one of the most important passes in the northern mountains opened up to a grand and breathtaking sight. As the three riders and their exhausted mounts crested the high point and looked down, none of them could deny the astonishment they felt. The pass descended slowly and gently, becoming a wide but short valley, bisected at the far end by a spur of land, turning it into the ‘Y’ from which its name stemmed. A small, fast river ran from the left fork and off down the right, cutting through the centre of a large civilian settlement of stone and wood houses that nestled in the valley at the foot of the spur. On all sides the mountains reared up higher than those through which the riders had passed, protecting the valley from the worst of the weather and making it a haven of lush greenery amid the snowy grey.
And yet, given all this wonder and glory, their eyes were drawn inexorably up to the spur of land towering above the village and bounded on two of its three sides by a steep slope and a fast river. And rising like the Imperial Raven Standard itself, testament to the undying power of the Imperial army, rose the stone walls of the fort of Saravis Fork. Salonius whistled through his teeth as he studied the strong walls with the trained eye of an engineer.
