“That got overrun by barbarians?”
Varro nodded.
“The Clianii were a big tribe, and I mean big. A cohort’s a great fighting machine, but even ours wouldn’t be able to hold that from an entire tribe of, what, ten thousand? And the Clianii weren’t traditional barbarians. They weren’t like the lot we fought the other day, all hair and teeth and bloodlust. The Clianii had learned from the Empire over more than a century. Hell, some of them had even served in our military. They knew how to build your machines, Salonius; machines that could batter those walls from across the valley.”
Catilina nodded and pointed at the brooding walls of the fort.
“Cristus held that for five days against odds of almost ten to one. That’s why my father likes him. That’s why Cristus is your commander.”
“How?”
Varro and Catilina turned to face Salonius, who was rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
“What?”
“How did he hold it?” The young man waved his arm expansively at the spur and the valley. ”If they had catapults and bolt throwers like ours and the knowledge to use them.”
“What do you mean?” Catilina frowned.
“Well without wanting to annoy you, sir,” Salonius replied. “You’re not an engineer. It looks like a heroic deed, I’m sure. But to an engineer it’s quite simply impossible. If you gave me two catapults, I could have one of those walls in rubble inside a day. How does a cohort stand against ten to one odds for four days with no walls?”
Catilina stared at him and shrugged.
“Cristus told me the first time I met him, back at Vengen when I was about twelve, but it was such a self- centred tale of daring and heroism that I can’t remember a word of it. Probably mostly lies. I expect we’ll find out more when we find Petrus.”
The three set off once more at a walk, Salonius with a perpetual frown and rubbing his brow with one hand, clearly troubled.
The road led down through slowly mounting scrub and greenery and finally apple trees and brambles thick with fruit. As they approached the civilian town, the fort on its great promontory became increasingly oppressive. The settlement was extensive, even for one gathered around such an important fort; almost the size of one of the towns of the southern provinces, complete with shops, a mill, granaries, large tavern, and even a temple to the Imperial pantheon. Farms dotted the two valleys as far as the eye could see. As they slowly descended the road to the town Salonius, his brow still tightly knit, glanced across at his captain.
“What sort of man is Petrus, sir, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Varro raised his eyebrow and the young man continued.
“Well I think we can all agree that there’s no reason to trust prefect Cristus in our current circumstances. And anyone he’s got control over is therefore similarly untrustworthy.”
“What are you getting at, Salonius?” Varro rumbled.
Catilina leaned forward, riding between her two companions and blocking the line of sight between the two brooding men. She turned her face to Varro.
“What he’s skirting around asking you is whether we can trust Petrus. He has a point too, Varro.”
The captain shook his head vehemently.
“Petrus and I are like brothers. Always were. Hell, he was the good and trustworthy one of the pair of us.”
“He was also to Cristus what Corda is to you” Catilina said flatly. “They were closely tied, Varro. I’m not saying we can’t trust him, but don’t be distracted by blind loyalty. You haven’t seen him in a decade. People change.”
Varro continued to shake his head.
“I understand what you’re saying, but you’re wrong. Petrus served with me under your father. He was one of Sergeant Cialo’s men on Isera. He was there when General Caerdin burned the villa and ended the civil war. You don’t come with a better pedigree for trust than that. On Petrus’ count, you’re wrong.”
“I hope so.”
The three fell silent once more as they crossed the bridge over the fast and deep, clear, cold river and entered the town. Salonius, his face still dark with notions of conspiracy, looked left and right as they passed the first outlying buildings. Varro and Catilina watched him with interest, paying no attention to the occasional locals glancing at them from doorways or windows.
“What is it?” Varro finally snapped with a despairing sigh.
Salonius’ frown seemed to deepen, if that were possible.
“There was a week long siege here ten years ago?”
Varro nodded. “Actually more like fourteen years ago, I think. But not just a week. Cristus held the place for five days, but the captain who’d been in charge of the garrison beforehand had held out for over a week himself. The whole siege was at least two weeks long.”
Salonius shook his head.
“There was never a siege here, sir.”
“What?”
The young man pointed up at the fort walls and then gestured around them at the civilian houses.
“It’s obvious to me, sir. And to you I think if you look.”
Catilina stared at him. “Not to me. What is it?”
“These houses are perfectly stable, ma’am, and the roofing tiles are old and shabby.”
“So?” Catilina frowned.
“So if there were siege engines across the valley and in the fort flinging stones back and forth for over a week, the chance of these buildings surviving intact is almost nonexistent. And an invading army needs food, loot and security. All of those things mean the village would be razed and the people raped, killed or enslaved. I know how tribal warfare works, ma’am.”
She shook her head.
“So the village got lucky. Or they made a deal.”
“No,” Salonius shook his head and pointed up at the fort. ”And what about the fort’s walls, sir.”
Varro stared up the hill and suddenly slapped his head.
“He’s right. Those towers are square!”
“So what?” Catilina demanded irritably.
“Ever since the civil war and the change in command, new forts are built with rounded towers. It deflects catapult missiles better. Your father’s bloody idea!” Varro barked. These walls haven’t been changed since before the civil war, what… forty years ago?”
Catilina nodded.
“Then Cristus lies. And we’ve a reasonable assumption that he’s behind at least two deaths. I hope father got safely away.”
Varro nodded.
“Your father’s not daft, Catilina. The moment he got my note, he’ll have been surrounded by his personal guard and rushed off to Vengen.”
She shook her head, worried eyes fixing on Varro.
“You know my father. There’s every possibility he’ll stay just to try and help sort this out.” She sighed. “Still, there’s no point in panicking now. We’d best find your cousin and see what he has to say.”
Salonius turned his ever-present frown on Varro.
“There’s another unanswered question yet though.”
The captain answered with only a raised eyebrow.
“The garrison commander.” Salonius pointed at the fort once more. “Most of the men there will be too young to notice these things; I wouldn’t have thought of it myself were it not for my training as an engineer. But the commander up there, he’s got to know. He’ll be a captain, so he’s old enough to remember what happened here. He’s commanding one of the most important outposts in the northern Empire, so he’s not stupid by any stretch of the imagination. And he’s running what appears to be a quiet, settled fort with no qualms. I’m guessing the same
