hillside’s long grass with his legs still kicking out his death throes, and Iudicael raised both hands, watching with resignation as the hillside’s long grass around him came alive with armed men. The soldiers spread out quickly, their weapons facing outwards in defence, while three of them walked past his comrade’s still-twitching body without breaking step. Their uniforms put paid to any last hope he’d had of the ambush being a mistake, and the small group’s leader gave him a dismissive look.
‘Tie his hands and put him on his horse. I want this man in front of the tribune as quickly as possible.’ He turned back to Iudicael with a hard-faced stare. ‘And you’d best make your mind up before we get there. With your mate dead you’re the only source of information we’ve got as to what’s happening inside the fortress of spears, and we’re going to squeeze everything you know out of you in the next few hours. That can either happen in a nice, quiet and calm way, or it can take a lot of shouting and screaming, most of it being done by you, but the end result’s going to be just the same. Me, I’d prefer it if we just had a nice chat and you told us what you know without any nastiness. I’ve heard enough of your lot screaming their lungs out in agony for one year, but only you can decide how it’s going to be, and once we get into camp you’re going to be asked a lot of difficult questions by some men who are in too much of a hurry to worry about hurting your feelings. So start thinking.’
The volunteer squadron rode down the shallow hill up which the legion detachment were leading the way and presented themselves to the command group riding at the cohort’s rear. Silus jumped down from his horse with a smart salute to Scaurus and gestured to the surviving Selgovae scout with a flourish.
‘As promised, Tribune, here’s the last of the men sent to watch for our approach.’
Scaurus returned his salute, and turned his horse from the line of march before climbing down and walking across to look closely at the captive.
‘Well done, Decurion, you’ve allowed us to steal a march on the men holding the Votadini captive. Tribune Licinius will have to confirm your promotion, but I can’t see him arguing with my decision given this success. From this moment on you’re a decurion. Well done.’
Silus saluted again, then tipped his head to the prisoner.
‘Thank you, Tribune. What would you like me to do with this?’
Scaurus flicked an indifferent glance at Iudicael, who was sitting helplessly with his hands bound in front of him.
‘I’m not sure there’s much point in trying to get any information out of him. We know everything that we need to know about the Dinpaladyr, and anything he tells us about the Votadini holding it will likely be false. I think I’ll just give him to Martos for entertainment when we camp tonight. He never tires of the opportunity to send another Selgovae to Hades with his balls in his mouth.’
Silus nodded and saluted once more, turning to take the horse’s reins and lead it away.
‘Spare me, Lord, and I will tell you everything I know! I swear to tell you the truth, I swear to my gods Cocidius and Maponus not to deceive you!’
Scaurus met the tribesman’s imploring eyes with a cold stare, raising an eyebrow and snorting derision.
‘You weren’t listening, Selgovae. I already know everything I need to know about the Dinpaladyr. You’re of more value to me as an offering to the Votadini prince your master betrayed and left to die than for whatever stories you think you can fool me with.’
The captive bent over his bound hands in supplication.
‘I can tell you much that you cannot know, Lord. I can tell you who holds the fortress, how many warriors he commands, how much food they have…’
He fell silent as Scaurus stared hard into his eyes, then nodded to Silus.
‘We’ll have the prisoner down from his horse if you please, Decurion. And you, whatever your name is, the second I think you’re lying to me I’ll have you hamstrung and left to die here. I’m sure there are wolf packs roaming these hills that would appreciate the gift. You can start with the name of the man Calgus sent to take the fortress.’
The Venicones marched from the remains of the Three Mountains fort soon after noon with Drust and Calgus at their head. The Venicone king took a deep breath of the day’s cool air, watching as his scouts loped forward up the road to the north.
‘It’s good to be able to move without the bloody Romans dogging our steps. We’ll march to the north until we’re over these hills, then turn east and head for the Dinpaladyr. Let’s hope that your men are still in command of it.’
Calgus, marching alongside him in the chill morning air, laughed tersely.
‘They’ll still be there. I sent one of my more energetic men to take a firm grip of the Selgovae, and if I know him half as well as I think I do, he’ll be riding them harder than they’ve experienced for many a year. I’ve visited the fortress on more than one occasion, and I can assure you that without a legion’s catapults these Tungrians will still be camped out in front of those walls when we arrive, scratching their heads as to how they might get inside. Once your warriors have rolled over them and taken revenge for us both, I’ll gather my men from inside the fortress and take them west to our own hills.’
The Venicone king raised an eyebrow.
‘You’ll return to your land? Why would you risk going back to the very place that the Romans will be busy putting back under their boots even as we speak? If they catch you they’ll drag your guts out while you watch, and leave you for the crows. Your people will have a bitter winter ahead at the hands of the legions, and they may not be happy to protect you, given the size of your defeat. Why not come north with us, and spend the winter in the safety of the hills beyond the River Clut?’
Calgus walked in silence for a moment before replying.
‘It might be safer for me to take up your offer, but we both know that the legions won’t be off my people’s land any time soon. Their cohorts will return to the forts that stud the road north from their wall, and their detachments will roam our hills as they wish. My people will be forbidden to gather without hard-faced centurions watching their every move, ready to set their dogs on us again at the first excuse. My people will suffer under their yoke once more, and if I desert them in such a time of need I will be unable to face any of the men that accompany me with any sense of honour.’ He stretched, still stiff from his night’s sleep. ‘I must return to take up the fight for them, or the slaughter of so many good men in our uprising will be without meaning. And besides, we’ve been subject to their whims since before my grandfather was born, and we’ve always managed to make them pay a high price for the pleasure of treading our land, both in men and gold. There’s an unfinished war waiting for me in the west, so while I thank you for the offer of protection, I cannot accept it and remain my own man.’
Drust shrugged, his eyes bright with the pleasure of marching without the Roman cavalry’s constant threat.
‘The offer stands. You may feel differently when this last fight is over.’
On the hillside high above Three Mountains, Soldier Caius waited until the tribesmen were well clear of the fort, poking away a lump of turf from the front of his hide to afford himself a better view of the sunlit ground below him. Satisfied that the warband was on the march, he bent his back and scattered the turf roof as he stood up in a shower of dirt. Brushing soil from his armour he turned away from the empty fort and started to run, heading down the hill’s flank at an easy jog as he headed for the meeting point agreed the previous day. After an hour’s run he trotted breathlessly up to the waiting cavalrymen, taking a moment to get his breath and gulp from a water skin before climbing wearily on to his horse and turning south.
Tribune Licinius received his report with a curt nod, turning to his first spear once Caius had finished his brief account.
‘A note for the pay records, First Spear, Soldier Caius to be credited five hundred denarii for his retirement pension. As we agreed this morning, messengers are to be sent south with a report for the governor, and a full squadron is to be sent north immediately with orders to track the barbarians without being detected, and report back three times a day. We’ll follow up at a respectable distance and wait to see what develops, but there is to be no attempt to engage the Venicones without my direct orders. The next time Drust sees our dragon banner I want it to be across a battlefield.’
Detachment Habitus staggered on to the ruined fort’s parade ground on legs that seemed incapable of making another step. Half of Dubnus’s command were leaning on their spears rather than carrying them, and even their centurion was grey with exhaustion after the day’s exertion. Bellowing a command that restored some semblance of military order, he walked out in front of the soldiers with a tired but satisfied smile.
‘Didn’t think you could do that, did you? You’ve marched the best part of thirty miles today, and you’re still all
