few questions; they’re not known for their politeness, you know,’ Magnus said, quickening his pace as the wood thinned out.
On reaching the last of the trees he stopped and looked ahead. In the distance, five miles off, was a line of hills, but before that was mainly rolling, open grassland used for sheep grazing. Here and there were little stone shepherd’s huts that were connected by paths marked out by lines of trees and bushes.
Magnus dismounted and handed his reins to Sextus. ‘Hold these, mate, I’m going for a little scout around to check whether we’re clear to leave the wood.’
He darted off to the left, leaving his companions wondering how they were going to cross such a large area of open grassland unnoticed by a patrol.
Vespasian took a long slug of water and then another bite from the strip of salt pork. He was feeling stronger than he had first thing, but he still had a long way to go before being fully fit. He wrapped his cloak tightly around his shoulders in an effort to keep out the rain and shivered slightly. He turned to Marius, who had his reins wrapped around his left forearm whilst he used his right to scratch his back.
‘How did you lose your hand, Marius?’
‘In the navy, sir, I was a deck-’
Magnus came dashing back, interrupting Marius. ‘They killed one of the unlucky sods and three of the guards are taking the other two back towards the road. The other three are a mile off and heading back towards the wood, I assume to look for what they must believe is the missing fourth member of the party.’
‘We’re trapped, then,’ Marius said. ‘If we go forward they’ll see us, and if we try to hide they’ll probably find us.’
‘If you can’t beat them, join them,’ Vespasian said.
The crossroads brothers looked at him quizzically.
‘What?’ Magnus asked, not understanding at all.
‘We’ll join them; we’ll take them out and borrow their cloaks, helmets, shields and spears. That way from a distance we’ll look like just another patrol and we should be able to cross that open ground unchallenged,’ Vespasian explained.
‘But there’s only three of them,’ Magnus said.
‘I’ve got my military cloak and helmet; the plume is longer than a Praetorian’s but from a distance it will do. Marius couldn’t hold a spear or a shield in any case; it’ll work, it’s not as if we’re going to try and go through a roadblock by passing ourselves off as Praetorians, is it?’
‘You’re right, sir,’ Magnus agreed, pleased to have a plan. ‘But before you pluck a chicken you have to wring its neck. So let’s get further back into the wood and find a place to ambush them.’
They retraced their steps to the line of the chase, turned left along its path and followed it for a couple of hundred paces where, to their right, they saw a dell about ten feet deep and thirty paces across.
‘This’ll do us,’ Magnus said, the beginnings of a plan formulating in his head. ‘Now, sir, they’ll be looking for a young military tribune, and you’re the only one of us that fits that description so it has to be you that leads them here. Go back along the track and when they see you race back here, down through the dell and up the other side there.’ He pointed to a gap between two large alders perched at the top of a steep bank on the far side of the dell. ‘As they’re following you up the bank we’ll unhorse them and finish them off.’
‘How?’
‘I don’t know, I haven’t got that far yet, but we’ll be on foot so let’s get these horses out of the way, lads. Sextus, do the honours.’ He and Marius dismounted and handed their reins to Sextus, who led the horses away.
‘Good luck, sir,’ Magnus said. ‘We’ll be ready when you get back.’
‘I hope so,’ Vespasian replied with a weak grin. He turned his horse and headed back towards the Praetorian troopers.
His leg was throbbing and his head ached but he felt confident that he had strength enough to stay on his horse and to ride fast through the wood for a short period of time. He was also sure that they wouldn’t try to bring him down with their spears; Sejanus wanted him alive, which, in the circumstances, he found a comforting thought.
Keeping his eyes peeled he advanced cautiously, making a mental note of any obstacles that he would meet on the way back, until he caught sight of a flash of red through the trees ahead of him. He stopped and waited for them to come on, bracing himself for the dash back. He didn’t have long to wait.
‘There he is!’ a shout came from about fifty paces away.
Vespasian turned his horse and kicked it into a gallop. As he sped back down the now familiar path, dodging trees, jumping logs and ducking under low-hanging branches, he felt an admiration for the horsemanship of the riders behind him who had earlier ridden the same route but without the benefit of a recce. He reached the edge of the dell and slowed. He looked around briefly to make sure his pursuers could see where he was going, then, satisfied, he plunged down the bank and tore across the dell in the direction of the two trees that Magnus had pointed out on the far side.
The Praetorians made it down the first bank as Vespasian’s horse scrambled up the much steeper bank opposite. Its forelegs reached the top; as it tried to pull itself up on to the level ground, its hind legs scrabbled behind it to gain purchase on the loosened earth of the bank. Vespasian clung on as his horse gave an almighty heave and pulled itself clear of the bank, but the speed of its thrashing hind legs hitting the firmer ground of the woodland floor caused it to overbalance and it stumbled, sending Vespasian crashing to the ground.
‘We’ve got him!’ someone called from behind him as he rolled on to his back and drew his sword to defend himself. The first two Praetorians had almost scaled the bank when a couple of dark blurs swept across Vespasian’s vision; two stout branches crunched into the troopers’ faces, sending them tumbling off their mounts, who in turn reared up and toppled backwards down the slope on to the third trooper behind them. Magnus and Sextus charged down the bank from their ambush positions behind the trees, hurling their branches down at the fallen troopers. They leapt on them, swords drawn, as Marius slid down the bank behind the troopers to cut off any retreat. The horses crushed and kicked their riders as they struggled to get up, leaving the troopers as easy game on the floor. Three swords flashed almost simultaneously, blood spurted from the troopers’ throats and they died beneath their terrified mounts.
‘Quick, lads, try and calm those horses down, then start taking what we need,’ Magnus said as he clambered back up the bank towards Vespasian. ‘Are you all right, sir? That looked like a pretty nasty tumble.’
‘I’m fine. Are they all dead?’
‘Of course. I wouldn’t be standing here chatting with you otherwise, would I?’ Magnus replied helping him up. ‘Come on, let’s get going.’
They hurried down the bank to where Marius was stripping the Praetorians of their cloaks and helmets, whilst Sextus struggled to control the horses.
‘Take the saddles and bridles off the horses, Sextus,’ Vespasian said, ‘then let them go.’
With the bodies, bridles and saddles safely hidden in the long undergrowth away from the track, they donned the Praetorian cloaks and helmets, retrieved their own horses, mounted up and made their way to the edge of the wood. Looking out over the open ground they could see no sign of another patrol.
‘We’ll ride two by two,’ Vespasian said, ‘but not too fast, otherwise if another patrol sees us they may think that we’re chasing someone and come to help us.’
‘You’re right, sir,’ Magnus agreed, ‘nice and easy all the way to those hills. All right lads, let’s go.’
They left the wood and started to cross the grassland at a steady canter. Vespasian struggled for a while trying to control his horse with just his right hand whilst holding a spear and a heavy shield in his left, but after a mile he’d got the hang of it and he was able to offset the extra weight by leaning slightly to his right whilst still keeping his horse going in a straight line.
‘Sir, look, behind us to the right,’ Sextus shouted suddenly.
‘Don’t speed up,’ Vespasian said, looking over his shoulder. Sure enough, heading for the wood that they had just left was another red-cloaked patrol.
‘What do we do?’ Marius asked.
‘Nothing, mate,’ Magnus said staring straight ahead. ‘Don’t look at them; just keep going. Let’s hope that we’re far enough away to fool them.’
Vespasian held his breath as they cantered on. He risked another quick look over his shoulder. The patrol was
