glance and a whispered admonishment from the tracker.
‘I swear to Arduenna that the only way you would ever catch a boar would be if it were to fall out of a tree onto your stupid Roman head.’
Marcus nodded distractedly, staring out at the bandit fortress in wonder. The wooden palisade was surrounded on all sides by a slope that fell away from the hill’s flat summit at a steep angle, forming a natural defence around the stronghold.
‘Look at that. With a single cohort I could hold that position against a full legion.’
Arabus stared out at the fort with pride in his eyes.
‘It has been a place of worship and refuge for our tribe for as long as we have lived in the forest, or so the stories tell us. Obduro led his band here several years ago, and set up an altar to the goddess inside his wooden walls.’
‘I’ve seen it. He sacrifices men upon it, and drinks their blood.’ The tracker’s eyes clouded at his harsh tone, and Marcus patted him on the shoulder, rolling onto his back and reaching into the leather bag that he had carried up the slope. ‘You did well in bringing me here, and I will prove to you the truth in my words, but first we have to get inside that palisade. It’s time for me to take the lead, and to find out if my acting skills are sufficient to the task.’
‘Petrus! The soldiers are on the move! They’re marching out of the city!’
With a complacent smile the gang leader turned to the man framed in the Blue Boar’s door, nodding to the men waiting around him.
‘What did I tell you? I knew Obduro wouldn’t be sitting back and waiting for them to get bored and piss off of their own accord. And while the army’s away, we can have all the fun we like, starting with the retrieval of all that lovely gold they took from Albanus.’ He stood up and pointed to one of his lieutenants. ‘He’ll have left the money behind with a few men to look after it, and to watch each other in case temptation overcomes any of them. You, send men out and find them, quickly. I want to know where that gold is before they get any clever ideas about going to ground with it. And you two…’ The doormen standing on either side of Annia nodded, straightening their backs. ‘You can take her upstairs and make sure she doesn’t get any ideas about making a run for it. Who knows, that day you’ve been waiting for all these years might just have arrived. All that time spent watching her fuck other men for money but never getting any yourselves might just be at an end… Have the hourglass ready.’ He sat down again to await further news, grinning at the horrified looks that Annia was giving him as Slap and Stab dragged her away up the stairs. ‘And if life really is kind, it’ll be that arsehole centurion who’s been left behind to guard the gold. We’ll soon see where his loyalties lie, won’t we?’
Julius watched impassively from the city walls as his cohort marched out from the city and headed away down the road to the west at the forced-march pace, the sound of Clodius’s bellowed orders floating back on the breeze until first sound and then sight of the marching men was denied to him by the distance being covered by the fast-moving soldiers. The man standing alongside him, a veteran of twenty years’ service with whom he had long dispensed with all formality in private, stared after them and nodded approvingly.
‘Not bad. The Badger might make a half-decent first spear one day.’
The centurion grunted reluctant agreement with his chosen man’s comment, turning away from the view down the road to stare out at the sprawling grain store. The legion cohort’s double-strength 1st century was standing guard on the depot, whose gates were firmly shut, under the command of the cohort’s first spear. Scaurus had taken him aside as the Tungrians made their last preparations to march, as the cohort’s centurions and their chosen men had examined each man’s boots and equipment for any sign of defect or negligence that might result in one of them falling out of the crippling fast line of march. Ignoring the bellowing of an incensed chosen man less than a dozen paces away, as the assistant centurion launched into a tirade questioning whether the soldier in question had ever actually learned the art of tying his bootlaces, then provided him with an incentive to perfection by means of forcibly introducing his brass knobbed pole to the soldier’s toes whilst screaming invective into his terrified face, the tribune had muttered final, quiet instructions.
‘Tribune Belletor has chosen to leave his First Century behind to guard the grain store, which is good in one respect.’
Julius had nodded.
‘It’s his double-strength century.’
Scaurus’s frown had spoken volumes as to his opinion of the decision.
‘The decision wasn’t anything to do with the unit’s size, if I guess right, but more an unsubtle dig at his first spear for such open cooperation with Sextus Frontinius. He may come to regret the decision, if he faces Obduro’s fighters across a battlefield without his senior centurion to put some iron in his men’s backs. And I’m sure we can trust Sergius to stand guard over the grain store, but I have my doubts that his men will stand firm in the event that any serious threat comes up the road, so you’ll need to keep an eye on them.’
Julius had raised an eyebrow, his face otherwise imperturbable.
‘What threat do you think we might expect, Tribune, other than the city’s gangs trying to take advantage?’
Scaurus had shaken his head, looking across his cohort’s waiting ranks.
‘In theory? Nothing at all. In practice… I don’t know. This man Obduro seems to be the very model of cunning and deceit. I won’t be happy until we have his head perched on a spearhead, and all this nonsense put behind us. Just be sure to keep your guard up.’
Now, deciding that he’d reflected on the conversation for long enough, Julius made his decision and turned back to his chosen man, pointing down at the grain store.
‘Those children won’t stand up to a sustained assault, and they’re babysitting enough grain to feed the bandits well into next year. Choose five tent parties and get yourself down there, will you Quintus? Give Sergius my regards and tell him I sent you to put some backbone into his men. I’ll come down for a look myself later on, once we’ve had time to see what the gangs are going to do now that they think the gold’s unguarded.’
The first sign of interest in the Tungrian headquarters came less than an hour after the 1st Cohort’s departure. A pair of hard-faced men strolled down the street past the main entrance, their eyes lingering on the four soldiers standing guard around the doorway in full armour, while Julius’s watch officer, a squat plug of a man whose face bore three recent scars as testament to his front-rank status, stood with his hands on the hilts of his sword and dagger. He spat into the road behind them, creasing his face into a sneer of disdain.
‘That’s right, keep fucking walking! If you’re planning on coming back for the gold you’d better bring some friends. That money belongs to my boss, and he’d tear me a new arsehole if I were to lose it.’
The gang scouts walked on without looking back, and the watch officer watched them turn the corner before ducking back into the headquarters. He found Julius in the chapel of the standards, staring pensively at the chests containing the money he’d extorted from the various money lenders with whom Procurator Albanus had invested it.
‘Not thinking of doing a bunk with it, are you, sir?’ He grinned into the centurion’s look of resigned amusement, knowing that his proven worth in a fight gave him licence to indulge in a share of the banter routinely exchanged between Julius and his officer colleagues. ‘Only, if you are, you’re going to need some strong lads to carry that lot.’
He nodded to the chests, massively heavy both from their construction and the weight of gold they contained. Julius shook his head and smiled wryly.
‘I think not. That money belongs to my boss, and he’d-’
‘Tear you a new arsehole if you were to lose it? You heard that gentle warning, then, did you, sir?’
‘I did, Pugio, and hopefully so did the rest of the city. If all we have to do today is stand here and stare at those chests then I’ll be the happiest man in the whole of Tungrorum.’
A soldier put his head round the chapel’s door, his voice urgent.
‘More of them, Centurion, coming up the street from both ends.’
Julius turned away from the money, then barked a string of orders at his men before strolling out into the street, enjoying the warmth after the chill of the chapel’s cold stone floor. He stood to one side as a wave of armed and armoured soldiers washed out of the headquarters’ entrance, moving in disciplined silence to form two lines ten paces apart across the narrow street, one to either side of the doorway. The watch officer picked up his shield from beside the door and then shoved his way into the line, rolling his head in a brief circle as if to loosen his neck ready for combat. Drawing his spatha he bellowed an order.
