just be their death sentence.’
Frontinius nodded grimly.
‘And in any case I’ve got work for you. Round up a couple of tent parties, borrow some axes from Titus and get about cutting down some more trees. It looks like this weather’s set in for the night.’
Marcus stared at the masked man, fighting to keep his face expressionless while his captor rammed home his advantage over his captive.
‘I know everything about you, Centurion. I know how much you paid for that pretty sword, I know when your wife’s baby is due to be born, and I know who you really are and where you come from. Secrets are my currency, Marcus Valerius Aquila. Secrets are my bread and butter. Secrets are what put food on these men’s plates, and what keep us both from the imperial executioner. I know things about the men who rule Tungrorum, both officially through the power of the emperor and unofficially through the strength of the gangs that control the streets, things that would see them executed within a day were I to make them known. I have access to most of the official documentation and messages that pass through the offices of those men, and there’s usually a tiny nugget of gold in every cartload of that shit. And to judge from the look on your face I’m making somewhat better use of it than that fool Caninus, eh? Prefect Caninus? The man’s a joke, as incapable a thief-taker as I might have wished to be set on our trail. When the time is right I will kill him, as well he knows, but for now his inadequacy is perfect for my purposes.’
He sat in silence for a moment, then spoke again, his voice softer.
‘But never mind our mutual friend the prefect, let’s talk some more about you, shall we, Centurion? You are, as we both know, Marcus Valerius Aquila, the son of a murdered senator and a fugitive from the emperor’s hunters. The despatches from Rome say that you are believed to have taken refuge with one of the cohorts that patrol Britannia’s northern wall, and that the reward for your capture has been doubled since the disappearance of both a Praetorian centurion and a corn officer sent to capture you, adding murder of imperial officials to your original crime of treason. You’re a dangerous man, it seems, and, in the absence of any living family, a man without any vulnerability to exploit, if I ignore your wife and unborn child.’
He waved a hand dismissively at Marcus’s hardening face.
‘Never fear, I don’t make war on women or children, any more than you would. And besides, why would I feel any need to threaten a man who has so much in common with me? I too am a fugitive from the empire’s version of justice, as so ineptly administered by Prefect Caninus. I too would like nothing better than to return to my home and live in peace, but, just like you, I’m left with little choice but to fight for survival, taking what I can when I can. You and I, Valerius Aquila, we should be fighting together against injustice rather than crossing swords as enemies.’
He stood and walked towards Marcus, eclipsing the torches behind him as he stood in front of the Roman.
‘Consider my words, Centurion, and give them time before rejecting the idea. You and I would make a combination that no man could bring down. With Arduenna’s favour we could hold this forest against any force the governor could send against us, and build an army that would hold the survival of the German frontier garrisons in the palm of one hand. Join me, Valerius Aquila, and you and I will decide the fate of this whole province, and take revenge on those men who have wronged us. Or does the life of a fugitive centurion, living in constant fear of discovery, and the murder of all those who have aided and befriended you hold such an attraction? You are my guest for the night, for this storm will not blow itself out before the sun rises again, which means that you have more than enough time to think on my words. Consider my offer carefully, Valerius Aquila. I will seek an answer from you in the morning.’ He turned away to the cave’s entrance. ‘Grumo!’ The big man appeared in the archway, and Obduro gestured to the Roman. ‘Set four spearmen to guard this chamber. We don’t want him getting any ideas about escape.’
‘It seems to be easing off.’
Julius followed Dubnus’s pointing hand, looking up into the night sky.
‘The flakes are a little smaller, I’ll give you that. And about bloody time, I’ve had about as much snow as I ever want to see in this lifetime.’
He waved a hand at the clearing’s dimly lit scene, and the hundreds of men listlessly clustered around the fires’ glowing remnants. Their boots and the fires’ warmth had quickly reduced the snow-soaked ground around the fires to ankle-deep mud, and made the task of dragging fresh wood from the clearing’s edge an exhausting struggle against both the weight of their burden and the sticky ground’s resistance. The axemen had long since handed their weapons to fresh hands, their bodies exhausted and their hands cut and blistered despite the calluses developed over years of service. Their replacements’ rate of work with the heavy axes had proven so slow that Frontinius had eventually decided to cut his losses and stop the work.
Dubnus pointed again, tapping Julius on the arm.
‘Look, I can see stars. The cloud’s breaking up.’
The dawn confirmed his expectation, revealing a sky free of any cloud, as if the heavens had been swept clean by the storm, and as the sun rose it lit up the clearing with a rosy light that stained the remaining snow gold. Frontinius and Sergius conferred briefly, then set their men to taking a swift breakfast in preparation for the march back to Tungrorum. The first spear gathered his centurions.
‘It’s time for some pragmatism, gentlemen. There’s no way we’ll be able to find Obduro’s gang after that heavy a snowfall, never mind fight them. Once the sun gets up and melts all this snow the forest will turn into a quagmire, and I see no point in our wallowing round in it while they sit in whatever fortress they’ve built and laugh at us, or, worse still, pick us off as we blunder about on ground they know intimately. Have your men eat whatever they’ve got left and then get ready to march. We’re cutting our losses and marching for the city.’
Julius raised a hand, his usually jocular approach to such gatherings replaced by a look of such solemnity that Frontinius, knowing what was coming, forestalled his request.
‘No, Centurion, you may not take a small party into the forest looking for any sign of Centurion Corvus. You wouldn’t stand much chance of finding him, and in the unlikely event that you did you’d most likely find him in the company of several hundred bandits. Either way it’s not a risk I’m minded to take. I’ll worry about our missing centurion once the odds are a little less stacked against us.’
Marcus woke in darkness, and for a moment imagined that he was in his own bed next to Felicia. The hard floor beneath him and the stiffness in his back reminded him where he was, and with a groan he sat up, propping himself up against the wall. After a moment a light appeared at the far end of the cave, as a guard carrying a torch came through the opening that led to the rest of the bandit encampment.
‘Follow me.’
Stretching the stiffness out of his limbs, the Roman got up and walked towards the light. As he reached the cave’s opening he found himself faced by a pair of levelled spear points, and behind them stood Grumo, the big man who had blindfolded him the previous evening. He shot the Roman a long disparaging look, his tone a mixture of hatred and contempt when he finally spoke.
‘Obduro wishes to speak with you. I would have slit your throat, but he’s ordered that you be spared. Come this way.’
He walked away to the steps that led up into the open air, but Marcus paused and looked about him before following, his curious gaze darting down the corridor to another opening in the rock wall. One of the guards prodded him in the back with the point of his spear, then they both fell in behind Marcus, their weapons still levelled at his back as he followed their leader up a flight of crudely hewn stone steps and out into the bright sunlight, blinking and raising a hand to protect his unprepared eyes.
‘ Bring him to me! ’
He turned towards the sound of Obduro’s voice, and he realised that he was in the very heart of the bandit fortress, a wide enclosure bounded by log palisades that reared fully twenty feet off the ground, with wooden buildings huddled under the walls to provide the gang’s men with shelter. Men stood around him on every side, many of them still clad in the remnants of their imperial uniforms, the remainder in simple woodsmen’s clothing, but every man was armed with a spear, sword and shield, and many had bows strung across their shoulders. The men guarding him pushed him towards their waiting leader, and as the throng of men parted Marcus saw that Obduro was standing before what appeared to be an altar. As he drew closer the Roman realised that the stone block, long and wide enough to accommodate a man’s body, was intricately carved with images of Arduenna riding through the forest on her boar. In every scene men were dying at her hand, pierced with arrows and hewn with a variety of
