correct, he leaned down low and selected one of the largest stones mortared into the bridge parapet around half way up.
Giving the mortar around the stone an experimental prod, he was pleased to see that a mere poke with a finger brought a flood of crumbled mortar like sand in an hourglass. Quickly and efficiently, he dealt a dozen blows with his pick, removing the mortar around the stone. Satisfied, he leaned out over the parapet and, quickly locating the outer face of the stone, he repeated the process there.
Hanging the pick on his belt, he gave the great stone a heave and grinned as it smoothly slid out of the bridge wall and disappeared into the rushing water with a deep and resounding splash.
Running across the bridge he saw Catilina more than twenty yards from the bank, staying well back. He jogged across to her and, retrieving his reins, vaulted onto the horse. Catilina gave him a friendly smile and then turned to watch the cousins slowly manoeuvring onto the bridge, the ropes raising from the floor behind them and slowly tightening.
Salonius sat fidgeting, tapping his fingers nervously on the pommel of his saddle. He began to worry that the ropes would be too old and weak, or his cut in the tree not deep enough. Perhaps the tree was tougher than he’d anticipated, or the horses too tired. Perhaps…
‘CRACK’.
The break came so suddenly and crashed to the ground so noisily that all four horses started. As Salonius and Catilina steadied their startled mounts, the young man watched in mild panic as Petrus and Varro tried to stop their horses bolting, still attached to the tree that lay, still shaking and vibrating on the grass eight feet from the far side of the bridge.”
“Shit!” Varro wheeled his horse, bucking and thrashing.
Petrus was having more luck, his horse now merely snorting and the eyes rolling as it craned its neck to see the rustling tree it was still attached to.
“For Gods’ sake get him under control!” yelled the young engineer.
“Salonius, look!”
Catilina pointed at the tree and Salonius narrowed his eyes, trying to discern what it was she was indicating, when his eyes refocused and he realised she hadn’t meant the tree. She was pointing between the branches at the shapes of riders cresting the hill on the far side of the village.
“Oh, shit!”
He kicked his horse and rode over to the two cousins. Varro had finally stopped his horse bucking and was stroking its mane soothingly as the eyes continued to roll.
“Company!” he yelled, pointing past the tree.
“Alright, the next part needs to be done quickly but just right! Varro? About fifteen feet forward and cut the rope! Petrus, you need to keep going until you feel it pull so tight you can’t move any more.”
He wheeled his horse and quickly stepped to where he estimated they would need to stop and then pointed at the ground next to him.
Varro and Petrus slowly and soothingly goaded their frightened horses into walking forwards. The few steps seemed to take forever, accompanied by the creak of rope and the scraping and rustling of the tree as it dragged and rolled from the open space into the bridge’s aperture and a third of the way across.
Varro reined in his horse and quickly severed the rope. He nodded at Petrus and Salonius and then rode on ahead to join Catilina.
Petrus walked his horse on slowly.
“More…” Salonius encouraged, unnecessarily.
“Further…”
He looked up and, as he saw the look on the older man’s face, lowered his own head and voice, though continued to encourage under his breath.
He turned to watch the slow progress of the felled tree across the bridge. With one rope cut, the tree was slowly turning. Trying desperately to ignore the sound of dozens of drumming hooves that were now disturbingly close, he watched with a satisfaction that only an engineer would understand, as the severed beech trunk slid neatly into the hole left by the missing stone in the bridge wall.
“Pull it ‘til it’s too tight to move.”
Petrus glared at him again, but said nothing as he urged his horse forward amid the tremendous straining noises of rope and wood. Finally, with a crunch and a shower of mortar, the tree wedged in the bridge. The figures of horsemen were visible at the far end of the village square beyond the wavering, willowy treetop branches. Salonius grinned at them and then turned the grin on Petrus, who reached around and cut the rope, his horse sidestepping freely, grateful to have the anchor removed.
Petrus sighed and returned the smile.
“Let’s just get out of here”
Salonius nodded and, turning his horse, they trotted off to join Varro and Catilina, leaving the soldiers on the far side of the river milling uncertainly and shouting conflicting orders at one another.
“Well done!” Varro commended him as they reined in. “That should give us a few hours’ grace.”
“Go!” shouted Petrus.
Varro turned in surprise and recognised the telltale hiss just in time to duck. The arrow whizzed through the space where his chest had been a moment before. Petrus had already kicked his horse into action and raced ahead. Salonius and Catilina joined Varro as they rode swiftly to escape the range of the enemy archers.
As they thundered past the barn, Salonius glanced across, remembering the assault they’d made when they first entered the valley. As he realised what they’d managed to get through, he smiled to himself. His eyes wandered across to Catilina, hunched over the horse’s neck, riding like the wind.
His smile slowly turned sour as he saw the shaft of the arrow protruding from her back and the red stain running down her cloak. She slipped sideways slightly and her arm dropped and swung freely.
“Oh Gods, no!”
Desperately, he pulled his horse alongside her and grasped her reins, slowing both beasts to a walk and then a complete halt. The quiet thud of arrows some way back indicated that they must now be out of range and safe. He turned his full attention to the lady beside him.
Reaching up, he placed his fingers on her neck below her ear and the jaw line. He almost collapsed in relief. She had a pulse. A little erratic as far as he could tell, but strong enough. The most his medical knowledge could tell him was that she was alive. With a sigh, he craned to look at her back. The arrow was deeply embedded, and had punched through her shoulder blade. Racking his brains, he pictured the charts he’d seen in Salonius’ room. Thank Gods he took an interest in things like this. The blow would be too high to have gone near her heart, but might have got her lung.
Heaving her across as gently as he could with his huge, muscular arms, he settled her in front of him, turned slightly so that the arrow couldn’t be jogged by anything. He suddenly became aware of Petrus and Varro hovering over him, a looked of horror pasted across the latter’s face.
“Don’t panic sir. She’s wounded, but not badly.”
‘I hope’ he added silently to himself.
Varro opened and closed his mouth a couple of times but no sound emerged.
“We have to go, Varro,” said Petrus, tugging at his sleeve. “It’s no good buying extra time and then wasting it feeling miserable. The lad’s solid and clever and he’s got her.”
Varro continued to stare.
“She’s still with us!” insisted Petrus as he grasped the reins of the now riderless horse. “Now go!”
He grabbed a handful of Varro’s shoulder material and hauled him around so that he was face to face with the stricken captain.
“Just go!” he yelled into Varro’s face, flecks of spittle dancing on the captain’s cheek.
Startled out of his shock, Varro turned and rode off, picking up speed. Petrus turned and locked Salonius with a commanding glare from that one frightening eye.
“Take good care of her and make sure she’s alive when we get to Vengen. Varro likes you, so he’ll just mope, but I don’t know you well enough yet not to break your nose.”
Salonius glared back at him. So many retorts flittered around the edge of his consciousness, but his head was filled to bursting point with thoughts of Catilina, some of which he wasn’t prepared to admit even to himself.
