“Move, you bastards! Getto the river!”
I heard the shout, and I suppose itcame from me, but it was as if I was hearing it from someone else.My gladius also was somehowin my hand, and a quick glance at Cotta told me he wasprepared.
“Get behind me,” I ordered. “If Ican’t slow them up, it will be up to you.”
The fact that he disappeared from myperipheral vision was all that I needed, because I could not affordto take my eyes off this warrior, who, while he had not put hishorse into a gallop, was still closing rapidly. However, I alsonoticed that while his companions were following, they were movingat a trot and were behind him by about twenty paces. Suddenly, Iwas certain what was taking place, that this Brigantes was notintending to try to run me down as much as he was trying tointimidate me. Nevertheless, I did turn slightly to put me in theposition we use to defend against a mounted attacker, although Idid not bring my blade up to the ready position. Now that he was soclose, I saw that, despite wearing a long, flowing mustache, thisBrigantes was young, even younger than I was, but the torchlightilluminated the glittering of the gold torq around his neck thatbespoke of his high status. Nevertheless, by the manner in which heabruptly drew his horse up, while it was close enough to spatter mylegs with dirt, I could see that he was as hesitant as I was aboutinitiating combat. He was holding one of the torches, but when hiscomrades arrived, drawing up around but just behind him, he swunghis arm back, snapping something that became apparent when thewarrior to his left reached out and took the torch from his hand.The man carrying the second torch was on the opposite side, inessentially the same position, and I noted this, understandingthat, while he might have been young, he wanted the light from thetorches behind him. Even as the torch was taken from him, the youngnobleman was drawing the gladiushanging from his waist, another sign of his high status,since we had observed that these seemed to be reserved for thehigher order of warriors among the Parisii, but rather than attackme with it, he pointed it at me and said something, his tone harshand demanding. Naturally, I understood nothing of what he said, soall I could do was shake my head and, with my free hand, held itpalm upward as I shrugged in what I hoped was the universal gesturethat signaled I had no idea what he was saying. Unfortunately,rather than soothe him, or at least make him recognize that I couldnot understand, this seemed to anger him, and in one smooth motion,he lifted his leg up and over his mount’s head and dismounted,snarling something. This was certainly not good, but it was themovement from his companions who suddenly began spreading outaround me that was the most disturbing development.
“Pilus Prior! We’re at the boat! We’rewaiting for you!”
I recognized Acisculus’ voice from thedarkness, which caused a stir among the barbarians, and the youngnobleman stepped to the side to look past me, peering into thedarkness, but I did not react, keeping my eyes on him while tryingto keep track of the other warriors spreading out. Most distractingwas the warrior carrying the third torch, because he had placedhimself at the farthest end to the left of what was now asemicircle of about a dozen riders facing me, in a perfect positionto cut me off. The nobleman extended his gladius, pointing it behind me and, with thesame tone barked out what I was certain was a demand to know whowas shouting from the darkness.
Suddenly, and before I could talk myself outof it, I pointed to my chest and said, “Roman.” The nobleman’scomplete lack of reaction made me feel a bit foolish, and Imuttered under my breath, “He already knows that, you idiot.” Then,more loudly, and still pointing to myself, I said, “Centurion.”
This did elicit a reaction, not justfrom the young nobleman, but the men around him as they beganmuttering to each other, while the youngster began thumping hischest with his left hand and started speaking loudly. It took acouple of heartbeats, but I recognized what I was certain werenames. He’s reciting his heritage, I thought, but it was whatfollowed on that knowledge that almost made me stifle a groan. DidI just challenge him to a fight? I wondered. Is that what hethinks, that by saying I was a Centurion, he took that as aninvitation to combat? I have no idea how long this demonstrationwas supposed to last, because he was cut off, not by me, but by asound from behind me; the sound of hobnailed soles striking theground in a rhythm that told the ears whoever was coming was doingso at a quick trot in perfect step. I could not afford to look overmy shoulder, so I watched the nobleman and his men for theirreaction, and I was slightly encouraged to see that the youngstersuddenly did not seem nearly as belligerent, while the men I couldsee within the circles of torchlight were shifting about on theirmounts, all of them looking to him for a signal about what to do.The sound behind me stopped abruptly, and I risked a glance to seethat Acisculus had formed up the other men in a double line, fivemen across, and they all had their gladii drawn.
“Give us the order, Pilus Prior,”Acisculus spoke loudly enough for the Brigantes to hear, “and we’llgut these cunni.”
I must say that I appreciated thesentiment, but I saw one of the mounted Brigantes behind thenobleman stiffen in the saddle, then turn and mutter something tothe man to his left, prompting the thought, They’re like us. Theymay not know much of another tongue, but the words they
