naked but for their leather helmets were being forced to run between the lines. Those at the far end had whips, those in the middle clubs, but the men at the end had swords. They watched as one unfortunate set off at a run, goaded by a spear in the backside. He tried to shy away from the whips, but with little success, then he came under a steady stream of blows when he reached those of his enemies with clubs, which made him stagger from side to side. His arms were raised around his head in a pathetic attempt to protect himself, and he was nearly down on his knees when he reached the swordsmen. They started by giving him gentle stabs, then one fellow, who had just helped himself to a swig from a wine gourd, slashed at the tendons on the back of his leg. The Roman fell forward, emitting a scream of pain and this seemed to excite the others, who joined in, cutting and stabbing, all the while laughing and taunting their victim who rolled on the ground in a futile attempt to avoid his fate. Clodius closed his eyes, not wishing to see the final agony of the fellow, as he was hacked to death.
‘Over there, look!’ said Flaccus.
Clodius raised his head to follow the pointing finger of his centurion. Flaccus had spotted a solitary wagon, clearly Roman by its design, off to one side of the clearing, well away from those burning in the centre, faintly visible because it still had its white canopy intact. The clouds obscured the moon, so it was far from easy to make out anything else until one of the burning wagons in the centre of the clearing collapsed, sending up a great whoosh of sparks, which illuminated the whole area. The sun-bleached canopy of the wagon now stood out clearly, but his attention was drawn to something else. Just in front of that solitary wagon he saw, like a tableau, two naked men simultaneously assaulting a young girl. You could see by her tiny breasts and gamine figure that she was not yet fully grown. One had her hair in his hands, and was pulling her head ferociously into his groin while the other stood behind her thrusting forward with as much vigour as his companion. Their arms and armour gleamed dully in the grass beside them. The sparks died down, plunging the whole thing back into near darkness.
‘I wonder if we could get down there?’ said Flaccus, peering into the gloom.
‘She won’t be much use to no one by the time those two are finished,’ said Clodius sadly.
‘I don’t mean the girl, you idiot. I’m talking about the wagon.’
‘What do we want a wagon for?’ snapped Clodius, putting aside his normal deference, genuinely angered by his commander’s indifference.
‘No wonder you’re poor. If that wagon ain’t burning like the rest, that has to tell you something.’
‘Like what?’
Flaccus leant close making sure that no one else heard. ‘Like it might have something of value in it. If Publius Trebonius got out of Epirus on the double, I doubt he’d leave without taking his gold with him.’
‘Gold!’ Clodius replied breathlessly. It was a word that never failed to excite him.
‘His treasury, you dope. The money he needs to do his job of governing. Look at the base of that wagon.’
‘I can hardly see the damned thing.’
As if on command, a second shower of sparks shot up from the blaze to show another soldier staggering down the line, in much worse shape than the man who had gone before him. He fell to his knees having only covered half the distance. One of the clubmen stepped forward and felled him with a single huge blow that split open both his leather helmet and his skull. He was dragged out of the way and the twin lines of men looked away from the watching legionaries, waiting for the next victim. Flaccus had not taken his eyes off the wagon. Clodius, having had a quick look at the dying man, turned back and saw the two men who had been raping the girl reach for their armour. She lay face down on the ground now, her body racked with sobs. The one furthest away picked up his sword, raised it high in the air, and with one swift blow, decapitated her.
‘Bastard,’ said Flaccus without emotion. The fire died down again. He was watching to see if the men rejoined the others in the centre of the clearing, but they did not emerge from the gloom. ‘That does it. Those two bastards are set to guard that wagon. It must have something of value in it. Come on.’
Flaccus slid back from the crest, tugging at Clodius to follow him at the same time as he called to the others to stay put. Once he was out of sight of those over the hill, he stood up, setting off at a run to a point further along the crest. Clodius followed reluctantly, grumbling under his breath. Flaccus had near thirty men with him, why collar him for the dangerous work? The centurion ran, crouched over, using his left hand to stop himself from sliding. His heart was pounding and his head was filled with the soothsayer’s prophecy. Judging that he had gone far enough, he threw himself flat and slid back to the crest where Clodius joined him. They were now on the far side of the single wagon, which was silhouetted against the bonfire. Another great cheer rent the air as another mangled body was thrown onto the pile at the end of the twin files of death. Flaccus tugged eagerly at Clodius’s tunic and whispered to him.
‘I was right. Look at those two. They’re guarding that bleeding wagon.’
Clodius could hear the excitement in Flaccus’s voice, and he did not like the sound of it one bit. He too saw the men, leaning on spears, watching what was taking place at the centre near the bonfire.
‘Come on.’
‘What!’
Clodius tried to free the arm that Flaccus had grabbed, but he suddenly found the centurion’s face pressed right into his own. He could feel the man’s hot breath on his nose.
‘You’ve always wanted to get hold of some loot, now’s your chance. Maybe you can pay me back what you owe me. All we have to do is kill those two bastards and we can help ourselves to whatever there is in that wagon.’
‘What about the rest of the men. Surely it would be better if there were more of us.’
‘Oh yes. Let’s all charge down there. It’ll only take one of them sods near the fire to turn round and it’ll be you and me trying to make our way down that line.’ Clodius felt fear drain the blood from his face. ‘This has to be done swift and silent.’
‘Why me?’
‘You was the one closest to me, mate, and I can’t do it on my own. I’ll wager there’s enough gold in that wagon to see you into the senate.’
‘But it’s not ours.’
‘Then pray to Furina for help, because if we can I intend to steal it.’
Clodius heard the slight scraping sound as Flaccus pulled out his sword. Then the man was over the crest, bent double to reduce his profile. The word gold reverberated around his head as he swallowed hard, pulled out his own weapon, and followed Flaccus over the top. The moon was out again, but their quarry were too intent on being spectators to see them coming, and the noise from the cheering crowds in the middle of the clearing masked the sound of their approach. They stood behind them, poised on tiptoe, and, at a nod from Flaccus, Clodius reached over his victim’s head, grabbed the front of his helmet and pulled it back. The strangled gasp caused by the tightened strap died as the point of the sword cut through his windpipe, then he hauled hard, dragging the man down till he lay flat on his back. The sword plunged sideways, missing the breastplate, slicing into the man’s heart and as he pushed, Clodius heard the ribs cave in. Flaccus stood over the inert body of his victim, who had suffered a similar fate. He lifted his lower tunic, and, with a swift motion, he sliced off his genitals, then stuffed them in the man’s mouth. Clodius heard him, even if it was only a whisper, as he rubbed his bloody sword on the thick grass.
‘That’s for the girl, you bastard, and may the Goddess of Death show you her arse.’
Flaccus then headed for the wagon, jumping up and tearing back the flap. Clodius followed. It was pitch dark inside.
‘We can’t see a thing.’
The sound of ripping canvas was all he got as a reply as Flaccus stuck his sword through the roof of the wagon, then pulled hard. A faint burst of light from the moon lit the interior.
‘Just as I thought,’ said the centurion, kneeling down. Clodius looked over his shoulder. The white light from the moon caught the brass edges that bound the huge chest. Flaccus was running his hands over it, looking for a way to prise it open.
‘Poke your head out the back,’ he said urgently. ‘Make sure no one’s coming this way.’
Clodius did as he was told. He heard the scraping and cursing at his rear, then the snap that seemed to reverberate round the whole clearing as Flaccus used his sword to break the hasp that locked the chest. He also heard the clinking of coins a few seconds later.
‘Money all right!’ said Flaccus, ‘but I’m buggered if I can see what they are.’ Clodius, keeping his eyes on the
