to be bought in advance at the cheapest time of the year for each item, so you need to know the local market. Conversely our produce needs to be sold at the most advantageous time of year for us. Think ahead, Sabinus, always think ahead. Do you know what we should be selling at the moment?’
‘I’ve no idea, but I assume that you are going to tell me.’
Vespasian looked at his brother with a grin. ‘You work it out, and then tell me tomorrow at our first lesson.’
‘All right, you smug little shit, I shall, but it won’t be tomorrow, tomorrow it’s my turn.’ Sabinus looked at Vespasian malevolently. ‘And we’re starting with a route march, twenty miles in five hours, followed by sword drill.’
Vespasian rolled his eyes but didn’t retort. As he tore off some bread and popped it in his mouth he realised that, of the two of them, Sabinus was going to have much more scope for causing pain over the next couple of months than he had. He put that unpleasant thought from his mind and looked around, chewing on his bread.
The sun, well past its zenith, was now behind them, front-lighting the rocky slope on the other side of the gully. Vespasian peered towards it; as he did so a momentary sparkle caught his eye. He nudged Sabinus.
‘Over there, by that fallen tree,’ he whispered, pointing in the direction of the light. ‘I saw something glint.’
Sabinus followed the direction that his brother was pointing in; there was another flash. Through the heat- haze shimmer he could just make out a group of a dozen or so men leading their horses down a narrow track that wound through rocks and crags down towards the gully. Once they got to the bottom of the slope they quickly mounted up and started to follow the line of the gully a hundred paces south. Here it wasn’t so sheer and they managed to coax their horses down the bank, through the stream, and up the other side on to the Flavian pasture.
‘All right, lads, we’ve got company. We’ll wait until they’ve untethered most of the mules before we rush them. That way they’ll have their retreat impeded by loose animals. I want as much noise as you can make when we charge. Those of you who can shoot a bow from a moving horse do so, the rest wait until we’re in javelin range, then let fly, and mind those mules.’
‘Don’t worry about them, Sabinus,’ Pallo said darkly. ‘I won’t be wasting any javelins on the mules.’
The others grinned and went to retrieve their horses.
‘You stay close to either me or Pallo, little brother,’ Sabinus growled as they mounted up as quietly as possible. ‘Father wants you back in one piece. No heroics. It makes no difference to us whether we get the bastards dead or alive.’
The idea that he personally might have to kill a man came as a shock to Vespasian; dealing out summary justice to brigands had not featured in his life thus far – a life that had been relatively sheltered – but he determined to acquit himself well as he pulled his horse up next to Sabinus; he would not give his brother cause to think worse of him than he already did. He gripped his mount hard with his thighs and calves and reached behind him to slip five of the light javelins from his supply. He kept four in his left hand, which also held the reins, the fifth he held in his right. He slipped his forefinger through the leather loop, halfway down the shaft, which acted as a sling on launch, greatly enhancing range and velocity. He was as ready as he would ever be. He glanced at the others, who were also checking their gear but with an air of studied nonchalance; they had all been through this before and he felt very much the novice. His mouth was dry.
They waited in silence, watching as the runaways advanced up the hill slowly so as not to startle the mules. Two of their number had stayed down at the gully, covering their retreat.
‘Pallo and his lads will deal with them,’ Sabinus said, relieved that the odds against them had gone down slightly.
Vespasian counted eleven of them. They were mounted on a variety of horses and ponies, all no doubt stolen from their estate or those nearby. They were dressed mainly in shabby clothes; some were wearing the trousers favoured by barbarians from the north and east. A couple had fine cloaks around their shoulders, presumably once the property of wealthy travellers who had fallen victim to their raids. None of the party had shaved in weeks; their ragged beards and long hair gave the group an air of menace that Vespasian imagined would hang over a tribal raiding party on the borders of the Empire.
They reached the mules. Six of the company dismounted and crept up to the tent. At a signal they stabbed their spears through the leather to skewer anyone hiding inside. Finding it empty they returned to the mules and started to untether them. The rest of their comrades circled slowly, keeping the anxious animals in a group, their javelins and bows ready to fell the mules’ minders should they return.
Sabinus kicked his horse forward, yelling at the top of his voice as he broke cover. ‘Get the bastards, boys, don’t let any escape.’
The others followed him at full pelt, in dispersed order, yelling the different war cries of their own people. Within moments they were halfway across the open ground to the confused runaways. Those that had dismounted struggled to find their horses amongst the panicking mules, which dragged their tethers around entangling the legs of men, mules and horses alike.
Baseos and Ataphanes let fly their first arrows. Vespasian forgot to yell as he watched in awe as they drew, released, reloaded and drew their bows again with such speed that they were able to have two arrows in the air at any one time and still maintain perfect control of their mounts with just their legs.
The first shafts thumped into the chaotic crowd, felling two runaways and a mule that went down whinnying shrilly, kicking out at everything around it, causing the rest to start rearing and bucking in panic.
‘I said watch out for the fucking mules, you cretins,’ Sabinus screamed at Baseos and Ataphanes as they wheeled their horses away to the left to pass around the top of the melee.
The mounted runaways had disentangled themselves from the chaos and turned their horses uphill to face the onslaught, releasing their arrows as they did. Vespasian felt the wind of one buzzing past his left ear and felt a wave of panic. He froze as Sabinus, Ludovicus and Hieron hurled their javelins. The momentum of the downhill charge gave added weight to the shots; two slammed into their targets with such force that one passed clean through a horseman’s belly and on into the rump of his mount, leaving him skewered to the beast as it tried, in its agony, to buck its screaming rider off. The other exploded through a horse’s skull; it dropped stone dead, trapping its rider beneath it, spattering him and his colleagues with hot, sticky blood. This was enough for the remaining three, who turned and fled towards the gully that was now devoid of their two companions who had been left there as a rearguard.
‘Leave them to Pallo’s lot,’ Sabinus shouted as he and Ludovicus wheeled their horses back round towards the mules. Vespasian, burning with shame for having faltered, followed, leaving Hieron to deal with the unhorsed runaway who had now managed to pull himself free from his horse. He struggled to his feet, wiping the horse blood from his eyes, only to see Hieron’s blade flashing through the air at neck height. His severed head fell to the ground and was left staring, in disbelief, at his twitching, decapitated body as the last of his blood drained from his brain and with it his life.
Baseos and Ataphanes had been busy. Three more of the runaways lay on the grass, feathered with arrows, and the sixth was making a break for it. Sabinus drew his sword and galloped after him. The slave looked over his shoulder and, although he must have known that he stood no chance of escape, put on another turn of speed – but to no avail. Sabinus was upon him in an instant and, with the flat of his sword, struck him on the back of the head, knocking him cold.
Vespasian looked down the hill towards the gully to see one of the three fleeing horsemen fall backwards off his mount, pierced by an arrow. His companions, seeing their escape blocked and their two erstwhile comrades lying on the ground with their throats ripped open, immediately wheeled their horses left and headed north, along the line of the gully, at full gallop. Vespasian urged his horse into a gallop, realising that they would escape unless he could cut them off. His desire to prevent the two men avoiding justice, heightened by the urgent necessity to redeem himself, produced a strange new sensation within him: blood-lust. The wind pulled at his horse’s mane as he raced diagonally down the hill, closing in on the two riders. He was aware of Sabinus and Hieron following behind him, shouting at him to wait, but he knew that there was no time.
The angle between him and his targets quickly narrowed, he raised himself in his saddle and, with all his strength, launched a javelin at the lead rider. It buried itself deep in the horse’s belly, sending the creature spinning head over hoofs to land on its rider, snapping his back with a sickening crunch. The second man had to check his speed to negotiate a path around the thrashing animal, giving Vespasian the advantage that he needed to draw
