The Silver Eagle

of medication and the changing of Pacorus’ dressings, Tarquinius skilfully avoided giving Vahram anything other than a polite fob-off. Their commander’s now frequent lucid moments also helped to prevent interrogations.

The anger grew steadily but he confined himself to taunts about Romulus and Brennus. Knowing that the two men were very dear to Tarquinius, Vahram used doubts about their safety as a way of intimidating the normally imperturbable haruspex. Verbal abuse rained down on his head and Tarquinius was powerless to resist. In this precarious situation, Vahram was simply too dangerous to cross.primus pilus’

Tarquinius hated having no idea how his friends were doing. All his guards had been threatened with dire punishments if they said a word. Combined with their deep-seated fear of his abilities, it meant that the haruspex lived in virtual solitude. Even the servants were too frightened to speak with him. Yet the silence was not as troubling as the isolation. Tarquinius thrived on knowledge of what was going on, and now he was being denied any.

The patch of sky over Pacorus’ courtyard rarely afforded much information: apart from the occasional snowstorm, there simply wasn’t enough to see. He had no hens or lambs to sacrifice either. Without realising it, Vahram had curtailed Tarquinius’ capacity to prophesy. Virtually the only method left was to study the fire in Pacorus’ bedroom. This was best done very late, when the commander was sleeping and the servants and guards had retired for the night. Letting the logs burn down to mere embers occasionally provided some useful snippets. Frustratingly, the haruspex could see little that referred to his friends. Or his own prospects. This was the random and infuriating nature of prophecy: to reveal little when it seemed important, and much when it did not. Sometimes it disclosed nothing at all. Tarquinius’ doubts about himself resurfaced with a vengeance.

After giving Pacorus his last medicine of the evening, it had become his ritual to hurry to the brick fireplace in the room. No chance to divine could be missed. Tarquinius was now desperate to know something — anything — about the future. It was perhaps this eagerness that caused the slip in his normal attention to detail one night. The instant that the Parthian commander’s lids closed in sleep, Tarquinius tiptoed away from the bed. But he forgot to bolt the door.

Squatting on his haunches by the fire, he sighed with anticipation. Tonight would be different. He could feel it in his bones.

There was one large log still burning. Surrounded by the charred shapes of others, it was glowing a deep red-orange colour. Tarquinius studied it carefully for a long time. The smouldering wood was dry and well-seasoned, with few knots: just the type he liked.

It was time.

An all-too-familiar feeling took hold. Recognising it as fear, Tarquinius gritted his teeth. This could not go on. He inhaled deeply, then again. Feeling calmer, he reached down for a poker and tapped the piece of timber with it. His action released a torrent of sparks. They wafted up the chimney in lazy streams, singly and in groups. The smallest went out very quickly, but bigger ones continued to glow as they were carried upwards by the hot air. The haruspex’ pupils constricted as he studied their pattern, counting his pulse to judge the time each took to disappear.

At last, an image of Romulus.

Tarquinius’ breath caught in his chest.

The young soldier looked troubled and unsure. Brennus was by his side, his normally jovial expression absent. Both were wearing their crested bronze helmets and dressed in full chain mail; their scuta were raised and a javelin was ready in each man’s right fist. Plainly they were nowhere near the security of the fort. Around them, the scenery was unclear, any distinctive features covered in snow. There were other legionaries present too, at least one or two centuries.

Tarquinius frowned.

A fast-moving flash of red contrasted against the white landscape. Then another.

The shapes were gone before he could decide what they were. Battle standards? Horsemen? Or just his imagination? The haruspex was left with a lingering sense of unease. He leaned closer to the fire, concentrating hard.

And jerked back, repulsed.

A barrack-room floor awash with blood.

What did it mean?

The image disappeared as the log broke in half. Gentle crackling sounds rose as the two pieces fell. The fire’s heart flared brighter as it seized control of the new fuel, and a new wave of sparks was released.

Tarquinius had long ago learned to let unclear, disturbing scenes go. Often they could not be interpreted at all, so there was little point in remaining anxious. He relaxed, pleased by the movement in the fireplace. There would be something useful in this. Lips moving silently, he focused his entire attention on what he was seeing.

A Parthian warrior sat astride a horse, which was panicking as an enraged elephant charged it. The man’s face was turned away, so he could not be recognised. Behind him a battle raged between Roman legionaries and a dark-skinned enemy armed with all manner of strange weapons.

The haruspex was intrigued by the rider and the host’s alien appearance. Intent on gaining an understanding of what was being shown, he did not hear the door open behind him.

‘Vahram?’ he muttered. ‘Is it Vahram?’

‘What sorcery are you up to?’

Tarquinius froze at the sound of the primus pilus’ voice. The realisation that he had not locked the door crashed down on him. Complacency can kill, he thought grimly. It was something he had taught Romulus, yet here he was, doing the same himself. Without looking back, Tarquinius shoved the poker hard against the chunks of wood, pushing them down into the ash at the bottom of the fireplace. Starved of air, they would go out fast. No more sparks. ‘I was just tending the fire,’ he replied.

‘Liar!’ Vahram hissed. ‘You said my name.’

Tarquinius stood and turned to face the primus pilus, who was accompanied by a trio of muscular warriors carrying spears. And ropes. Tonight, Vahram meant business. ‘Pacorus will wake,’ he said loudly, cursing the fact that he had not kept his thoughts silent.

‘Leave him be.’ Vahram smiled, but there was no humour in his face. ‘We don’t want to trouble him unnecessarily.’

He’s making his move, thought the haruspex with alarm. And my comment has given him more ammunition. ‘It’s been a long day,’ he said, raising his voice even further. ‘Hasn’t it, sir?’

Their commander did not move a muscle.

Tarquinius moved towards the bed, but Vahram blocked his way.

‘Don’t play it smart with me, you arrogant son of a whore!’ The barrel-chested Parthian was incandescent with rage now. ‘What did you see?’

‘I told you,’ answered Tarquinius earnestly, keen that the primus pilus should believe him. Who knew what he was really capable of? ‘Nothing.’

Vahram went icy calm. Everyone in the whole camp knew that the haruspex was no charlatan. Pacorus and Tarquinius had both been careful not to tell anyone about the lack of results from his haruspicy. In the primus pilus’ eyes, this was obstruction, pure and simple. ‘Fine,’ he said, his anger at last outweighing his fear. He snapped his fingers at the warriors. ‘Tie him up.’

Tarquinius flinched.

Swiftly his wrists were bound together; a leather gag was wedged into his mouth and tied around the back of his head. Is this what was different about tonight? Tarquinius thought bitterly. There had been no inkling that this would happen. The thick cords tore at his flesh, breaking the skin, but he breathed into the pain, letting it wash over him. This was just the start. What was to come would be worse.

It was then that Pacorus stirred under his blankets. His eyes, heavy-lidded from the sleeping draught that Tarquinius had given him, opened.

Not totally confident in his authority, Vahram paused. His men did likewise.

The haruspex sent up a prayer to Mithras. Wake up!

Pacorus’ lids closed again and he rolled over, turning his back to them.

The primus pilus’ face twisted with pleasure and he jerked a thumb at the door.

Feeling incredibly weary, the haruspex let himself be dragged outside. Even Pacorus’ guards had disappeared