his tutor onto the defensive. The bow that the shepherd had fashioned, along with the arrows he had cut, feathered and trimmed was back in the hut. Gadoric had worked hard with the boy until he could down a flying bird.
More than that, he had taught him his own tongue and told tales of barbarian gods clashing in the heavens as they fought for power, of great battles and mighty feats of arms, of lands to the north where the forests ran on for days, inhabited by fierce tribes who burnt their enemies alive in wicker cages. Aquila fingered the raised eagle on the still unfamiliar amulet as if that would clear the rush of images that filled his mind. Blood, but no body; that meant that whoever fought Gadoric had not killed him, but had taken him away. The youngster leapt across the cramped space, pulling aside the piles of kindling faggots that Gadoric had heaped in one corner.
The spear was still in its place, the metal head gleaming and sharp. A slave could die for the mere ownership of such a thing, but Gadoric had stolen it nevertheless, knowing he would need it to help him get home to his own land and people. Aquila grabbed the weapon, spun on his heel and shot through the doorway, shouting for the dog. Out in the bright sunlight he had no need to speak as the animal cast around in the disturbed grass round the doorway, moving in an ever-widening circle, yelping occasionally. Then he stopped, one forepaw raised, his nose pointing away from the woods towards the larger fields full of cattle to the north. Minca looked at Aquila for a second, then he yelped again, and nose low, he set of in pursuit of Gadoric’s scent, with the boy running at his heels.
They moved quickly, further proof, given its strength, that the spoor was recent. The dog vaulted over the fences that marked the boundary of the best pasture. The cows had watched their approach with a look of bovine stupidity, but once the hound was in the field they upped and ran to the furthest corner. Minca stopped for a moment because the trail went right through the middle of a huge cowpat and that smell had filled his nostrils, putting him off the scent. Aquila could see where feet had made a groove through the middle. He pulled Minca gently by the ear and took him to a point several paces beyond the pile of ordure. The dog sniffed again, still a little confused, but he found the spoor he wanted in less than a minute and they were off again.
Aquila realised that the trail was leading them directly to the Barbinus villa and the outbuildings that surrounded it. As he trotted along beside the dog, spear in hand, he speculated on what could have happened at the hut. Gadoric had not been attacked by a band of strangers for the shepherd had placed his hut well. It backed on to a thorn-covered escarpment at the furthest point opposite the woods and this gave him plenty of time to observe anyone approaching, and he had set up lines with sheep bells so he could not be taken unawares, even if he was asleep. The man had almost animal instincts; the slightest sound would register in his brain, awake or asleep so he must have known those who came to take him. He would have watched them cross the field, probably already on the lookout for Aquila and his dog so they could not be enemies, since Gadoric would have fought them and, given his prowess with the spear, at least one of his assailants would have died.
The boy stopped when he saw the red-tiled roof of the spacious villa, so he called Minca to heel and leant on the spear to think. Gadoric’s words rang in his ears, for the shepherd, talking of battles in which he had fought, never tired of telling Aquila to look before he leapt. The man who had led him into battles against the legions had forgotten that lesson, and those of his men who were not killed had ended up as Roman slaves. He had drawn the engagements with a stick, showing in the earth the dispositions of the men who had fought and the reasons one side gained victory and the word surprise was paramount! The shepherd repeated it over and over to make sure the boy understood.
‘Before you go trying to surprise an enemy, lad, just make sure he hasn’t got a little shock in store for you, for if he has, it’ll be you that dies and not him. Use everything, your eyes, your ears and your nose. Listen for the sounds that should be there, for if they’re not, then something else is. But there’s a sense in you without a name, a feeling when things are not right. Trust that too.’
Something was not right here, but this was no battle. He could hardly just barge in to the farmyard and demand an explanation. What have you done with your slave, the shepherd? All he would get for his trouble would be the toe of the overseer’s boot on his backside. His eyes roved over the landscape, taking in the details, features he had seen time and again, yet seemed to him as if they were being observed by a different set of eyes. In his heart he wanted to attack the place, to storm it and set it ablaze. The house and the outbuildings were set on flat land, but that was man-made, excavated out of the slope of the hillside, and the stable roofs, furthest from the entrance to the property, on the other side of the slave quarters were a continuation of the slanting grassy field where the excavation ended. The whole landscape was on an incline, falling gently towards the road bridge that crossed the culvert. Aquila looked up the hill to his right to where there was a small copse from which he could observe the whole extent of the farm without himself being seen. He tugged at the dog’s ear again, harder this time, for Minca was reluctant to let go of the scent, and hauled him up towards the trees.
The small wood surrounded the cistern that held the water that supplied the spacious villa, and fed the fountain, the canopy of trees keeping the contents cool. From this height Aquila could not see into the actual central courtyard of the house itself, the place where he had stood the night he heard Sosia scream, but he could see the tip of the water spewing from the fountain as it rose to a height near that of his own. He stared at the house for quite some time, forming, as it did, a complete square enclosing the courtyard. There was no sign of Gadoric at all, which was a relief; Aquila had feared almost as soon as he had realised where the spoor was taking them, that he would find the shepherd strung up from a gibbet or crucified, yet he must be there and if he was there was a good chance he was still alive. Aquila crouched, his cheek against the smooth shaft of the spear, idle finger stroking the leather amulet that felt so strange on his arm, aware that he had no idea what to do. After all, he was only a boy and Gadoric had obviously been brought here by force, so he would need to be rescued the same way. Aquila knew how many men occupied the Barbinus ranch, knew it was certainly too many for him and the dog to tackle.
He looked at the far side of the ranch, nearer to the Via Appia where the barns were situated and wondered if Gadoric had been taken there. Since he could see nothing from here he decided to take a look, just to reassure himself, so he left the copse and headed along the hillside, all the time looking out for some clue which might be afforded by the changing angle of the view. Once past the line of the buildings, he headed downhill, till he was on the opposite side from their original approach, encouraging Minca to cast around again for the spoor. The dog ran around in a random way, nose to the ground, covering a great deal of ground in a fruitless search. Suddenly Minca stopped and raised his head looking towards the nearby buildings and Aquila turned, still leaning on his spear. Then he heard the shouts and the barking dogs, the noise accompanied by the cracking of a whip. He threw the spear to the ground and raced towards the wicker fence that marked the perimeter of the farm buildings. Through a gap between two of the barns he saw the group of chained men in the middle of the courtyard, surrounded by armed guards, some of whom had fierce-looking dogs straining on stout ropes.
Gadoric stood head and shoulders above the others and even from this distance Aquila could see that his flaxen hair was matted with dried blood, but he stood erect, looking around with his single eye, unlike the others, chained to him, who seemed to be bowed under the weight of some great burden. He was not sure but they looked like the men who had worked on the ranch doing the most menial tasks, cleaning out stalls, shifting hay, keeping the courtyard clean; one thing he did know, if it was them they were all slaves. Aquila stopped at the fence, not sure what to do until he heard Minca growl beside him, and just in time he reached out and grabbed the animal round the neck to stop it diving through to rescue its master. Minca struggled in his arms, trying to break free without doing any harm, the boy holding him speaking rapidly in the strange, barbaric tongue it understood, using soothing words to try and calm the animal.
He knew that if Minca tried to get to Gadoric, it would have to fight every one of those other dogs. Thus occupied, any one of those armed guards could then spear him. He had to get him away for if one of those guards swung a whip anywhere near Gadoric he would not have the strength to hold him back. Grabbing both ears he hauled the dog’s head round and pulled him away from the point where he could see his master. Aquila grabbed his spear and headed back up the hill at a run, the sheepdog right by his heels. He went higher this time, skirting the rear of the copse he had occupied earlier. Just before he lost sight of the farm he heard the crack of the whip in the clear morning air and he looked back to see the file of prisoners being marched towards the front gates, heading for the road beyond the bridge.
The boy ran as fast as he could and Minca must have sensed their destination since he sped on ahead, making for the hut. Aquila knew he could leave the dog there; given the job of guarding his master’s property, he would not budge and added to that, he would tear apart anyone who tried to enter. They reached the hut in good time, and Aquila, having given Minca his instructions, made as good a job as he could of securing the place, well aware that neither the damaged door or even the walls would hold the dog if he really wanted to get out. He was halfway through the wood when he realised that the spear was still in his hand.
