The Silver Eagle

pila. Still no challenge had been issued to check their progress, which was most irregular. No one was allowed to approach the fort without identifying themselves.

‘The lazy dogs will be huddling around the fire,’ Romulus muttered. Sentinels were only supposed to stay in the warm guardroom at the base of each tower for short periods; just enough to thaw out numb fingers and toes. In practice, they did it as long as the junior officer in charge allowed.

‘Time to wake them up then.’ Raising his axe, Tarquinius stepped forward and repeatedly hammered the butt on the gate’s thick timbers. It made a deep thumping noise.

They waited in silence.

The Etruscan had raised his weapon to demand entrance again when suddenly the distinctive sound of hobnailed sandals clattering off wood reached them from above. As expected, the sentry had not been at his post in the tower. A few moments later, a pale face appeared over the ramparts.

‘Who goes there?’ Fear filled the man’s voice as he peered down at the small group. Visitors to the fort were rare, let alone in the middle of the night. ‘Identify yourselves!’

‘Open up, you fool!’ shouted Romulus impatiently. ‘Pacorus has been injured.’

There was a disbelieving pause.

‘You piece of shit!’ cried Tarquinius. ‘Move!’

The sentry’s shock was palpable. ‘Yes, sir! At once!’ He turned and fled down the staircase to the rooms below, roaring at his comrades.

Moments later the heavy locking bar was being lifted. One of the doors creaked open, revealing several legionaries and an anxious optio. The delay in responding would surely result in some kind of punishment.

But Tarquinius pushed past without a word. Romulus and Brennus followed. Confusion filled the sentries’ faces as they took in the prone shape on the Gaul’s shoulder.

‘Shut the gate!’ Tarquinius bellowed.

‘Where are Pacorus’ warriors, sir?’ asked the optio.

‘Dead,’ snapped Tarquinius. ‘We were ambushed by Scythians at the Mithraeum.’

Shocked gasps met this comment.

Tarquinius was in no mood to reveal more. ‘Advise the duty centurion and then get back to your posts. Keep your eyes peeled.’

The optio and his men hastened to obey. Tarquinius was also a centurion and could have punished them as severely as Pacorus. They would have to find out what had happened later.

Tarquinius hurried down the fort’s main street, the Via Praetoria. Romulus and Brennus followed. On both sides lay parallel rows of long, low wooden barracks, each housing a century of eighty soldiers. Their interiors were identical: large rooms for the centurion, smaller ones for the junior officers and more cramped quarters for the men. Ten contubernia, each of eight soldiers, shared just enough space to fit bunk beds, their equipment and food. Like gladiators, legionaries lived, slept, trained and fought with each other.

‘Romulus!’

Hearing the low shout, he half turned. In the shadows between two of the barrack buildings, Romulus picked out the features of Felix, one of his original unit. ‘What are you doing up?’ he demanded.

‘Couldn’t sleep,’ Felix replied with a grin. He was already dressed and armed. ‘I was worried about you. What’s going on?’

‘Nothing. Go back to bed,’ replied Romulus curtly. The less anyone else had to do with this, the better.

Instead, Felix darted to Brennus’ side, gasping when he saw the arrows jutting from Pacorus’ flesh. ‘Gods above,’ he breathed. ‘What happened?’

Romulus filled him in while they marched. Felix nodded, grimacing as he heard the details. Though smaller than Romulus and weaker than Brennus, the little Gaul was a fine soldier. Truly stubborn too. When their mercenary cohort had been cut off during the battle at Carrhae, Felix had stayed by their side. Completely surrounded by Parthian archers, just a score of men chose to remain with the three friends and Bassius, their centurion. Felix was one of them. He’s his own master, thought Romulus, glad to have him along.

No one else halted the small party. It was still dark, and most men were asleep. Besides, only a more senior officer would dare question Tarquinius, and none of those were to be seen. At this time of night, they were also in bed. Soon they reached the principia, the headquarters. This was at the intersection of the Via Praetoria with the Via Principia, the road that ran from the east wall to the west, dividing the camp into four equal parts. Here also were Pacorus’ luxurious house and more modest ones for the senior centurions, the Parthian officers who each commanded a cohort. There was a valetudinarium, a hospital, as well as workshops for carpenters, cobblers, potters and a multitude of other professions.

Tradesmen and engineers as well as soldiers, the Romans were almost self-sufficient. It was one of many things that made them so formidable, thought Romulus. Yet Crassus had managed to expose the Republican army’s sole weakness. It retained almost no cavalry, while Parthia’s forces consisted of little else. Tarquinius had spotted this long before Carrhae, followed soon after by Romulus. But ordinary soldiers had no say in tactics, he reflected angrily. Crassus had marched arrogantly into disaster, unwilling or unable to see what might happen to his men.

Which explained why the Forgotten Legion had new masters. Cruel ones.

Romulus sighed. Apart from Darius, his own cohort commander, the majority of the Parthian senior officers were utterly ruthless. What would happen when they saw Pacorus, only the gods knew. But it would not be good.

From the principia, it was not far to the high walls of Pacorus’ house. Copying a Roman villa, it was built in the shape of a hollow square. Just inside the front gates were the atrium, the entrance hall, and the tablinum, the reception area. These led on to the central courtyard, which was bordered by a covered walkway giving access to a banqueting hall, bedrooms, bathrooms and offices. Having seen Seleucia, Romulus knew that his captors were not a nation of architects and engineers like the Romans. Apart from the city’s great entrance arch and Orodes’ magnificent palace, the houses there were small and simply built of mud bricks. He could still remember his commander’s amazed reaction when he had first entered the finished structure. Pacorus had been like a child with a new toy. Now, however, he barely stirred as they reached the gates, which were guarded by a dozen Parthians armed with bows and spears. Legionaries were never trusted with this duty.

‘Halt!’ cried the swarthy officer in charge. He peered suspiciously at the body hanging over Brennus’ shoulder. ‘Who have you got there?’

Tarquinius’ gaze did not waver. ‘Pacorus,’ he said quietly.

‘Is he unwell?’

The haruspex nodded. ‘Badly wounded.’

The Parthian darted forward, gasping as he took in Pacorus’ grey features. ‘What evil is this?’ he cried, barking an order. At once his men fanned out, surrounding the party with levelled spears.

Romulus and his friends were careful not to react. Relations with their captors were strained at the best of times, let alone when they were carrying a critically injured Pacorus.

Drawing a dagger, the officer stepped close to Tarquinius. He laid the blade flat against his neck. ‘Tell me what happened,’ he hissed, his teeth bared. ‘Fast.’

There was no immediate reply and the Parthian’s eyes bulged with anger. He moved the razor-sharp metal slightly and cut Tarquinius’ skin, drawing a thin line of blood.

His men gasped at his courage. Most Parthians were terrified of the haruspex.

Keeping silent underlines my power, thought Tarquinius. And this is not my time to die.

Felix stiffened but Romulus jerked his head to stop any reaction. Their friend knew what he was doing. To his relief, the little Gaul relaxed. ‘We were ambushed by Scythians, sir,’ said Romulus loudly. ‘Check his wounds for yourself.’

No one spoke as the officer paced back to Brennus. Close up, no one could miss the distinctive Scythian arrows. But he was not yet satisfied. ‘Where are the rest of the men?’ he demanded.

‘All dead, sir.’

His eyes widened. ‘Why are none of you hurt?’

Romulus kept his composure. ‘They fired volleys of arrows from nowhere, sir. We had shields. We were