sleeping on guard.’
Rapax stopped at the rapist.
‘Attempted murder doesn’t look like he could pick a successful fight with my old mother, never mind collar a traitor. I don’t like thieves, and the only thing I like less than a thief is the sort of weak-chinned fool that lets his mates down by falling asleep on duty. Eh, Sleepy? Your mates will make very short work of you when they’re given the chance, and good luck to them.’ He pointed at the rapist.’ I’ll take this one, though.’
The centurion of the guard raised an eyebrow.
‘I suppose you know what you’re doing, but he’s a nasty case. Put it to a woman old enough to be his grandmother by force and then killed her, and nobody would have been any the wiser as to who the sick bastard that did it was if his good-luck amulet hadn’t been found by the body. Even now he keeps denying it. Shut it!’
Having opened his mouth to contest the centurion’s story, the rapist closed it again, his face a picture of misery.
‘See, all he does is piss and moan about how it wasn’t him, despite the fact that he left the evidence and has no alibi worth a toss. You’re sure you want him?’
Rapax smiled back at him imperturbably.
‘Yes, I think I’ll be able to find a use for him. We’ll have to call him Granny Fucker.’ He beckoned one of his men forward, indicating the two reprieved prisoners. ‘Take Smartarse and Granny Fucker to the stores and get them kitted up. Make sure they look like soldiers, and not the ragged-arsed jailbirds they so clearly are. And if the stores officer gives you any trouble, just give him the usual “you really don’t want to meet my centurion and his mate the corn officer” speech. Meet me at the north gate in an hour. And now, Varius Excingus, we’d best go and see how our wounded are doing.’
In the fort’s hospital they found a single doctor on duty, a woman who seemed utterly untroubled by their combination of muscle and bluntly wielded power.
‘I can’t release either of your wounded, Centurion, because neither of them is in any condition to be released. You can see them now, if you like, but they’ll all need at least ten days’ rest if their wounds are to heal cleanly. Now if you’ll excuse me…’
The two men exchanged glances. Excingus raised an eyebrow at the doctor’s departing back, nudging his comrade in the ribs.
‘Just the way you like ’em, eh? High spirited and ripe for breaking in?’
The praetorian shook his head with a wry expression, and waved a dismissive hand.
‘Not that one. There’d be a dozen nearly recovered soldiers in our faces if I so much as laid a finger on her. She’d be more trouble than she could ever be worth.’
His partner nodded sagely.
‘I’m sure you’re right. You’d better go and have a few words with your men, then, hadn’t you? Tell them we’ll collect them on the way south once we’ve dealt with the Aquila boy. I’ll go and do some research on the quality of the wine in the officers’ mess.’
Rapax waved him away in mock disgust and strolled down the hospital building’s narrow corridor, peering into each small ward in turn until he saw a face he recognised. The guardsman in question smiled wanly at his centurion, saluting despite the fact that he was sitting in bed with heavy bandages swathing his right thigh. The centurion looked around the four beds, finding two of them vacant and the last one inhabited by a heavyset bearded man who was fast asleep, a thin line of drool staining his pillow. Rapax squatted by his soldier’s bed, keeping his voice low to avoid waking the sleeping man.
‘How are you, then, my lad? Got the arrow out in one piece, did they?’
The guardsman nodded, holding up the iron arrowhead that had been buried deep in the muscle of his thigh earlier that day.
‘Nice job she made of it, gave me some sort of honey mixture and I hardly felt a thing. Hurts a lot now, though…’ He bent closer to the centurion, beckoning with his hand to bring his officer’s head closer to his mouth, whispering despite the lack of anyone else in the room to hear his words. ‘There’s some right chatty lads in here with us. Tungrians. Wounded at some big fight in the hills a few days ago, just starting to get their wits back about them and happy to talk the day away, if a man’s willing to listen.’ Rapax nodded silently. Having enough intelligence to know when to keep his mouth shut had been part of the reason he had recruited the wounded guardsman in the first place. ‘Anyway, it seems that the lady doctor is a very close friend of one of their centurions and has been all summer, ever since he arrived from Rome. A centurion by the name of Corvus.’
Rapax raised an eyebrow in appreciation of the news, patting his man on the shoulder.
‘Very good work. I’ll make a point of coming back for you once we’ve found this “Corvus” and put him where he belongs. For now you just concentrate on getting that wound healed. You’re no use to me if you’re not fit for battle.’
The praetorian nodded proudly, happy to have his officer’s favour.
‘I heard you were having a look at their prisoners. Found anyone worth recruiting?’
The centurion shrugged.
‘I might have, it’s too early to tell. There’s one big lad that might have the makings, if I can be sure he’ll do what he’s told. He’s quick enough with a blade from the sound of it…’
‘And you’ll have fun finding out?’
Rapax met his man’s knowing look with a slight smile.
‘Don’t I always?’
Marcus and Arminius rode south at a brisk trot once they were out of sight of Alauna’s walls, and able to use the road again. After an hour’s riding they reached the spot where they had taken lunch, and Marcus reined his horse in, struck by a sudden impulse.
‘Let’s ride over to the spot where we captured Lugos.’
Arminius raised an eyebrow.
‘You have a soft spot for the man, it seems.’
‘I respect the man’s courage…’
The barbarian shrugged his agreement, and the pair turned their horses off the road and cantered out to the copse where they had destroyed the desperate Selgovae remnant earlier that day. After fifteen minutes’ riding into the late afternoon sun’s glare Marcus spotted the lone warrior, and altered his horse’s direction slightly.
‘There he is. He doesn’t seem to have moved since we left him, though…’
Lugos looked up as the riders cantered up to where he stood, then returned his gaze to the rough grave he had dug for his brother in the intervening period. Marcus and Arminius dismounted and stood facing him in silence, both men unwilling to break the grieving warrior’s intent focus on his brother’s last resting place.
‘Was younger brother. Was five summers younger. No family left now
…’ Marcus watched in grim silence as a single tear ran down the barbarian’s cheek. ‘Nothing left now. Death come soon.’
Arminius snorted, shaking his head.
‘Very true. There are several thousand soldiers not far away over there…’ He pointed at the setting sun. ‘… any one of whom will be delighted to claim your head, but that’s only if you get lucky. Worse than that, they might not kill you, they might just take a big lad like you for a slave. If you stay here you’re likely to end up cutting down trees or digging for silver on starvation rations for the rest of your life.’
Marcus stepped round the grave’s earth mound and stood face to face with the grieving warrior.
‘He’s right. If you stay here you will end up in a work gang, that or you’ll be transported so far from your homeland that this place will be no more than a distant memory for the rest of your days. Come with us. We have other men like you serving with us, men who have been betrayed by Calgus. We can find a place for you, I’m sure of it.’
Lugos lifted his head and looked at the Roman with disbelief.
‘Fight for Rome?’
Marcus shook his head.
‘No, for yourself, and for others like you. We have one more job to do, before the winter sets in. We have to free the Dinpaladyr from Calgus’s men.’
‘Men like Harn?’
‘Yes.’
