“So it’s better that you get flogged?”Diocles scoffed.
“He wouldn’t flog me,” I assured him withmore confidence than I actually felt.
I did not think he would do anything thatrash, but one doesn’t know for sure until it happens. As he handedme the polished bronze disc I used to see my reflection, Dioclessimply sniffed, saying nothing, conveying the same skepticism Iprivately felt.
I examined myself and, satisfied, handedDiocles the disc, telling him, “I'll be hungry when I get back, sohave some bread and cheese ready.”
Diocles inclined his head, still sayingnothing, yet I could see the worry on his face. I gave him a patwhen I left the tent, promising that I would return.
The night was oppressively still, withbarely a breeze blowing, which was a mixed blessing. Despite thefact it meant that noises would not be carried to a sentry’s earsas easily, it also meant that the rustling of the leaves of thetrees and grass would not screen the sound of our movement. It wasalso warm, and we had barely gone a furlong before my tunic wassoaked with sweat, although some of this was from tension. Thefires of the Thracian camp gave a clear reference point for us toapproach, also giving us a vague idea where to look for sentries.Before we had left the camp, we sketched out a plan wherebyScribonius would approach the Thracian camp from one end, and Iwould do the same on the opposite side. Because the Thracians, likeall barbarians, did not make a camp with a distinct boundary like awall or ditch, it meant that their sentries were easier toapproach. It also meant that they could be in more places, sincethey were not confined by the perimeter of the camp. If theseThracians were like other barbarians, it was likely that sentryduty was not something their warriors took seriously, and wouldusually force on the lower status men among their band. In turn,those forced to be sentries were resentful of being out in thedark, either alone or in pairs, meaning that they were likely tolook for a place where they could curl up, just out of the ring offirelight, to get some sleep. A real danger, something that I hadseen or heard of happening on more than one occasion, was stumblingon a sleeping sentry, thereby raising the alarm. We Romans,thinking like Romans, would be watching for men walking their postsbecause it was their duty, yet barbarians seldom had suchdiscipline. Fortunately, every man on both teams had extensiveexperience dealing with barbarians, either in Gaul, Parthia, orDacia.
Despite the darkness, we were able to movefairly quickly towards the Thracian camp. Once we got within a fewhundred paces, Scribonius and his men headed for the far corner,while I continued, along with Columella and the others, toward ourassigned target area. Crouching down, I began moving a few feet,then stopping to squat with my mouth hanging open to hear better,listening for any noise different than the chirping of the insects.The others were doing the same and, in this manner, we crept closerto the camp. We were now less than a hundred paces away from thenearest tent, still with no sign of a sentry. There was a suddennoise of a tent flap being thrown open, and a Thracian warriorstaggered out, walking on unsteady legs a few paces away from thetent to urinate. We could clearly hear the splattering sound of hiswater hitting the ground, and I found myself holding my breath,waiting for him to finish his business. He turned to wobble back tohis tent, muttering in his own tongue about something. Only afterthe flap fell back in place did I feel it safe to exhale. Signalingto Columella, just two or three paces away, the next man the samedistance on the other side, I pointed in the direction roughlyparallel to the edge of the camp. Without waiting, I moved slowlyin the direction that I had indicated, counting on Columella tofollow. The terrain was scrub forest, with underbrush only aboutknee high, meaning that, essentially, I had to stay on hands andknees while I moved to remain hidden. Naturally, this caused me agreat deal of discomfort, my weight pressing down on the unevenground through my knees, but it could not be helped. I am not surehow much time passed, yet I was growing increasingly desperate,because there was still no sign of a sentry anywhere. I found ithard to believe that the Thracians had not posted a guard on theside of the camp facing ours, but it was increasingly appearingthat this was the case. Time was running out, and a decision had tobe made. We had agreed that each team would return to the camp ontheir own once they had captured a prisoner, or at most two, justin case the other team was not able to snatch someone. Withoutknowing how Scribonius and his men were faring, I recognized thatwe would have to try to find more than one man to be safe, a hugeflaw in the plan. Pain was shooting up my legs through my knees,forcing me to squat to get them up off the ground, and I twistedaround to look for Columella’s bulk in the darkness. I gave a lowhiss to attract his attention, drawing him close to me. Expellingmy breath first, I began whispering in his ear.
“Any ideas?”
Using the same method, he whispered back, “Ithink we’re going to have to go into the camp.”
Even though I knew Columella was right, myheart began thudding more heavily against my ribs at the thought.Scrutinizing the nearest tents, illuminated by the flickeringtorches placed at seemingly random intervals around the camp, Ichose the smallest one. It was actually a bit deeper in the campthan a couple of other tents, except those were much larger,meaning that they undoubtedly held more men. The tent I wasstudying looked like it would fit four men, and I pointed toit.
“Let’s go.”
Going back onto my hands and knees, ignoringthe pain, I began crawling through the underbrush, making my waytoward the camp, stopping every few paces to lift my head above thegrowth to scan the area. Inching our way closer, we
