pace. Silus had ridden far enough to the east to watch Obduro’s army making their approach to the city, further darkening Scaurus’s mood and goading him to greater efforts in leading his men’s increasingly painful double-pace forced march. Labouring alongside him, Frontinius glanced back down the column to the legion centuries, grimacing as he turned back to the road stretching out into the dusk before them.
‘Our lads are grinding along well enough, but the legion centuries are having a bad time of it. Perhaps we ought to call a rest halt? Apart from anything else we need to work out how we’re going to recognise the bandits in the heat of a night battle. It might be best to have that worked out before it gets dark?’
Scaurus nodded.
‘We could get the torches lit too. Very well, First Spear, we’ll take a few minutes to work all that out.’
The soldiers slumped exhaustedly at the roadside where the column came to a halt, their centurions trotting tiredly up the road to cluster round the First Spear, while the chosen men and watch officers pulled torches from each century’s mule cart and readied them for lighting. Frontinius waited until the last of the legion officers had reached him before starting his briefing, ignoring the fact that Tribune Belletor had yet to make an appearance.
‘Time isn’t on our side, gentlemen, so I’ll keep this brief. Decurion Silus’s reconnaissance confirms that we’ve been taken for fools, and decoyed away from the city in order for Obduro to have the time and leisure to smash his way into the grain store and make his escape with enough corn to keep his men fed for the best part of a year. And we can’t allow that to happen. On top of that, the emperor’s gold is also in the city, and whilst I expect Julius has enough presence of mind to see off any gang interest, several hundred bandits would be a different matter. So after we get the men back on their feet we’re going all the way back to the city at the double, and there won’t be any time to issue orders.’ He looked around the cluster of serious-faced men, now barely visible as darkness crept over the landscape. ‘So you’re going to have to use your initiative, and we’ll depend on sheer numbers to do the job for us. Once we’re within sight of the city I’m going to blow one long blast on my whistle, which will be the signal to halt the march and form up for the attack. Use the torches of the men in front of you as your guide, and we’ll keep it simple, given that it’ll be pitch black by then. Odd-numbered centuries will deploy to the left, even numbers to the right. Find the end of the line and anchor your century onto it. I want one long line and no gaps, or we’ll have men blundering about in the dark in no time. A one-cohort front ought to be wide enough, so we’ll have the Second Cohort lined up behind the First, and the legion behind them. I don’t care if they run to the east, but any man trying to escape through us dies. And the tribune’s put a bounty on the head of their leader. There are ten gold aurei waiting for the man that brings me the head of this man Obduro still wearing his helmet.’ Eyebrows were raised around the circle of men at the size of the reward on offer. ‘Yes, he wants the man dead badly enough to offer a year’s pay to the man that can deliver it. And we want to avoid half of our men killing the other half, so we’ll use the watchword system to minimise the chance of mistakes. The challenge will be “Mithras”, the response “Unconquered”. Any man that doesn’t know the response should be considered an enemy, but make sure your men use some sense. The lads in the grain store won’t know the response, and neither will Julius’s men. Dismissed!’
Tribune Belletor, who had walked up to the group while the first spear had delivered Scaurus’s orders, stepped forward with a serious look on his face as the centurions dispersed back to their men.
‘Colleague, I fear my horse has gone lame.’
Scaurus nodded, his expression unreadable in the twilight.
‘As I thought it might. It’s been favouring one foot for most of the day.’
Frontinius realised that Belletor’s voice lacked its usual bombast, and folded his arms in expectation of what was coming.
‘So I’m clearly going to have to walk. Perhaps you could reduce the pace a little? I doubt I’ll be able to…’
Scaurus shook his head, reinforcing the almost invisible gesture with an extravagant sweep of his hand.
‘Absolutely not. You’ve got men depending on us to push through the pain and come to their rescue before it’s too late, and I’ll not be jeopardising their chances because you’ve neglected your own physical conditioning. Keep up for as long as you can, and if you have to drop out keep a tent party with you for safety, but don’t expect the column to stop.’ He turned away from the glowering Belletor and beckoned Frontinius closer, waving his thanks as a soldier with a newly lit torch stepped near to illuminate their discussion.
‘Time to be on our way, First Spear. I wish you good fortune in the battle to come. Perhaps this time you might stay behind the line of your men? You know as well as I do just how confused a fight can get at night, and I’d hate to lose you to one of their spears, much less one of our own.’
Frontinius chuckled dourly.
‘I’ll stay close to you, Tribune, but for exactly the same reason. Someone has to make sure none of these idiots puts his iron through you by mistake.’
The two men clasped arms, nodding at each other in recognition of the risk they were about to take in throwing their men into the confusion of a night battle. Frontinius turned away and tapped his trumpeter on the arm.
‘Sound the advance! Let’s go and see just how good Obduro’s Treveri are in the dark.’
‘First Spear!’
Sergius ran up the steps onto the grain store’s wall in response to the summons, staring out onto darkened ground between store and city. Barely a hundred men were left of the original cohort strength that had been at Obduro’s back as he’d confronted the defenders moments before, their ranks illuminated by torches.
‘Where are the rest of them?’
‘That’s why I called you, sir! The rest of them have split to either side of the store.’
The first spear turned back to the men waiting behind the wall with lit torches, and barked an urgent command.
‘They’re going to come over the rooftops. Get ready to kill them as they hit the ground!’ The legionaries and soldiers spread out, their spears held ready to strike, but after a few moments’ wait it became apparent that the expected threat wasn’t materialising. Sergius stalked across the store’s empty interior, waving both his own chosen man and Julius’s to him. Julius, who had been sitting on the ground outside Felicia’s improvised surgery with his wounded leg stretched out straight, climbed awkwardly to his feet and hobbled across to join them, using a spear shaft as a makeshift support for the weakened limb. He grimaced at Sergius, who nodded his head to recognise their shared understanding.
‘Smart boys. They know we’re waiting for them so they’re going to hack their way into one of the granaries and then fight their way out as a group. Get your lads to listen quietly and you’ll soon find out where they’re working at the walls.’
The soldiers spread out throughout the store, opening the individual granary doors and listening for any sign that the bandits were attempting to dig their way through the thick brick walls. A man standing outside a granary on the store’s western side waved his torch up and down to attract the officers’ attention, and Sergius ran across to the spot, followed by his hobbling Tungrian colleague. The sound of men hacking at the granary’s exterior brickwork was clear enough with the wide wooden doors unbarred and opened, and the two centurions exchanged a significant glance. Sergius gestured a tent party men forward, pointing into the store.
‘As we discussed it, get your shoes and belt order off, and get in there. And remember, the second they put a hole in the wall you get out and make sure you leave the doors open. After that all you’ve got to do is run for your lives…’
‘It seems we’ve lost your colleague already, Tribune.’
Scaurus turned his head to look back down the column’s length, following the first spear’s pointing hand to see a small cluster of torches falling behind the last legion century. He laughed bitterly through the pain of the stitch that was torturing his stomach, his face contorted by the stabbing pain.
‘I’ve a fair idea how he’s feeling.’
Frontinius patted his labouring tribune on the shoulder.
‘You’ll get through it. And you have to; they’re all watching you
…’
A voice from behind them spoke over the din of the soldiers’ hobnailed boots rapping on the road’s rough surface.
‘Which side of your body hurts, sir?’
Scaurus looked back at the men following him, finding in their faces the same agony he was enduring. In the
