but all that seemed to evaporate in her presence. She produced an ache in him that no amount of self-abasement could control. It was almost as if Valeria knew she was the sole object of his nocturnal fantasies and so took every opportunity she could to come just close enough to make his obvious arousal unbearable. He could see the light in her eyes, bordering on mockery. What did she see in his eyes? He dragged his mind away from Valeria, back to his father, who was still talking.
‘I trust that you are as ardent as any boy your age.’ He was smiling, despite the hard tone of his voice. ‘Go to your room, Marcellus. You will find that your needs will be fully catered for, by me!’
Marcellus ran his nose from her armpit to her nipple, taking in the musky smell of her body. When the slave girl had first been shown into his room, whatever reserve he had felt had now completely evaporated. Sosia was Falerii property, his to do with as he wished. That she had shown little passion actually pleased him, since that absolved him from the need to feel or respond. He did not want to get to know this girl, just to use her. She could be an image, in the darkness, on which he would project whatever thoughts he desired. His lips circled the erect nipple, his tongue darting in and out as Sosia tried to hold her reactions in check, fighting off the sounds that would indicate intimacy. Yet it was hard, for in the dark one man could very well be another, and her body was so sensitive to the touch, just as her mind could not reject the image of Aquila. That was how she had survived the callousness of Barbinus, and the same vision would aid her now, blocking out the attentions being paid to her by her new owner.
Sosia had no knowledge of Roman ways, especially those of the nobility, so when his hands took her shoulders and spun her so that she was face down, she was confused. The tongue now ran up and down the vee of her spine, just touching the fine hairs that lined her back. Staying as stiff as she could, she heard Marcellus murmur a name and then his knee was between her legs, pushing them open. He grunted slightly as he pushed hard into her. The name he had groaned, Valeria, was blocked out of her mind by the pain.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The trail Aquila was leaving would be easy to follow, but he had no choice. They had left the coastal plain behind and started to climb into the hills long before daylight. Now, with the sun full up, he could look back at the foothills beneath him, with the burnt wheat fields, laid out in the regular Roman pattern, criss-crossed at strict intervals by roads and paths stretching all the way to the sea. Gadoric and his fellow rebel, called Hypolitas, were with the horses in a deep ravine and if there was no immediate pursuit, that was where they would spend the day. There was pasture for the horses on a nearby ridge, quite possibly water too, since the grass was green, and the same ridge would also provide a convenient place to look out for anyone hunting them. He slid down the scree slope into the gorse at the mouth of the ravine and pushed his way through to find Hypolitas flat on his back, sound asleep, while Gadoric had fought to stay awake so that the boy should not have the entire burden of the rescue placed on his young shoulders.
Aquila knelt down beside him, speaking quietly. ‘No sign of anyone chasing us.’
The Celt’s red-rimmed eyes lingered on the gold charm, swinging slightly before his eyes, then he shut them tight, as though the effort of staring was too much. ‘They will. They wouldn’t go blundering about the countryside, at night, once they’d lost our trail.’ Great coughs racked his body, but he kept talking. ‘But they’ll be out in strength at first light.’
‘Are we that important?’
Gadoric rubbed a hand across his forehead. ‘To them, yes. If they have people that can follow our trail, we shouldn’t wait here.’
Aquila smiled; a problem he should have thought about before had just occurred to him. ‘Where will we go, Gadoric?’
‘We must join the other runaway slaves in the hills. There are hundreds of them out here somewhere.’
The boy decided to say nothing of what had happened the day before; Gadoric was too exhausted, so he put his hand on the shepherd’s shoulder to push him back into the grass. He felt the man resist, though in truth it was feeble. ‘Rest, my friend. They cannot surprise us. I can see the whole coastal road from here.’
‘We must find the other runaway slaves.’
‘No, Gadoric. You need rest, food and time to recover. If these runaway slaves are any good, they will find us before the overseers.’
They were like insects, mere specks in the distance as they made their way slowly down the tracks between the fields, stopping occasionally so that the man following their trail could check on their spoor. He counted thirty men, and though he could not be sure at this distance, he thought that Flaccus was leading them. Behind him the horses munched at the juicy grass, below the two slaves slept. Aquila had already drunk his fill of the fresh water that gurgled out of a fissure in the rocks before disappearing underground. The supply of food he had brought would not last long, so he had set snares to catch game. Using some saplings he constructed a canopy with his cloak to keep the hot sun off his back and from that shaded position, with water to hand, he could watch the progress of the pursuit without discomfort.
Their trail was, as he had suspected, easy to follow. A heavily laden horse, bearing two people, leaves a much deeper hoof print than normal. The task would become more difficult as they made their way into the hills, but they would come on, regardless of the problems, he knew that now. It was not just Gadoric’s words; they would not have set out, in such a large party, if they did not intend to see the three crucifixes fully employed. Besides, Flaccus must have added his own disappearance to that of the condemned men. Given the presence of Cassius Barbinus in Sicily, the ex-centurion would be mightily embarrassed by the loss of his attendant, his horses and his weapons. Aquila thought back to the men who had ambushed them the day before, ten, maybe twelve people, not very well armed. Was that just one roving band, or were there more?
They only had two possibilities. Either they must disappear, or join a group that would frighten off the men coming after them. First he had to slow the latter down; Gadoric and Hypolitas needed time to recover their strength but if they were allowed to come on at their present pace he would be forced to move right away. The important people were the trackers; kill them and the whole enterprise would falter. But how? Against thirty men he had a spear, his bow and a quiver of arrows, two swords and one knife. He slipped out of his makeshift tent, rolling up his dark brown cloak, checked that the horses were properly hobbled, before climbing down to look at his companions. They slept, the remaining food and water between them, and he lifted the food and placed it under a bush, tucking the empty sack into his belt. A quick arrangement of twigs, something they had played at so long ago, left a message for Gadoric that he would be back. He took his spear and headed off downhill, looking for a place to attack, preferably as close to the coastal plain as possible.
Moving swiftly and silently, he was able to enjoy the sensation of being back in wooded countryside. At every opportunity, Aquila would make for an outcrop that afforded him a view of the progress of their pursuers. The party had left the plain and started up the hills, but even though they were out of sight he knew their location. Such a large group of men made a great deal of noise and you could place them by the flurries of birds scared out of the trees. He was following the trail down and they were following it up. They were bound to meet!
He found his spot, a narrow ravine where the sides rose some fifteen feet above the trail. Ideally he would have liked a place further down but there was no guarantee he would find anything as good as his present location. Aquila surveyed both sides, careful not to step on the trail, for if his pursuers had any sense they would not just blunder through a dangerous gully like this; at the very least they would be prepared for an attack. Odds of thirty to one were somewhat lessened by the narrow defile which would confine them to a maximum of three abreast, but those three and the men behind them would be ready, quite possibly with bow and arrows. Anyone standing up to cast a spear would present an easy target so he had to unsettle them, to do something to spoil their aim. First he collected dry twigs, laying them across the gaps in the trees that led round the ravine to the spot he had chosen for his attack. If anyone came by those routes he would be warned and could get away.
The next bit was harder, and given the lack of available time he was blessed with good fortune. Catching snakes is never easy, even when you know where to look, especially during the middle of a hot day. Aquila searched carefully through the long grass with the end of a specially cut branch, food sack in hand, concentrating on the shaded areas, under rocks, where they would sleep. He found two adders, pinned them with the head of the stick,
