The Silver Eagle

optio made his report to the centurion who had been in charge of the fort overnight. Immediately a runner was sent to fetch Pacorus and the senior centurions.

Romulus found himself looking over at the shrine, where the legion’s silver eagle and its other standards were kept. Positioned to one side of the main offices, it was guarded night and day by a pair of sentries. Heavy curtains obscured the standards from view. He longed to prostrate himself before the metal bird and ask for its help. Here, in the centre of the fort, was where its power was strongest. But it was a faint hope. No one was about to let a slave accused of running from the enemy pray to the most sacred item belonging to the legion.

Instead, Romulus pictured the silver eagle in his head. With its protectively outstretched wings, it was a powerful symbol of Rome. He did not cease praying to Mithras though. Surely the god would understand the importance of the bird to him? He was a Roman soldier and followed the legion’s symbol with fierce pride. That did not diminish his belief in the warrior god who regarded all men in the same light. Equally, Romulus felt that the eagle would value his courage over the fact that he was a slave.

‘So!’ Pacorus’ voice reached them first. ‘The cowards have returned.’ Accompanied by Ishkan, Vahram and all the other senior officers, the legion’s commander stalked into view. A large party of warriors trotted behind them. Only Darius was missing. The early hour had not stopped any of the Parthians from wanting to be present. Romulus was struck by how ill Pacorus still looked, but twin red points of anger marked his hollow cheeks. Rage was giving him the energy to be here.

There was no sign of Tarquinius, the man whose hard work had brought Pacorus back from the brink. Disappointment swamped Romulus. Another mountain had been placed in their way. If the haruspex had been restored to favour, they might have stood a better chance.

When the officers had come to a halt, the optio and his men shoved Romulus and Brennus forward.

‘What have you to say?’ demanded Pacorus harshly.

‘Before you are crucified,’ added Vahram with a cruel smile.

‘Scum,’ said Ishkan.

Romulus looked at Brennus and was shocked to see dumb acceptance of their fate. ‘This is my destiny,’ whispered the Gaul. ‘I deserted my own family and people when they needed me.’

‘No,’ hissed Romulus. ‘It wasn’t your fault! Your journey is not over.’ But there was no time to persuade his friend. He was on his own.

The optio struck Romulus heavily across the shoulder blades with his staff. ‘Answer the commander!’

He clenched his teeth to stop himself wheeling around and attacking the junior officer. The Parthians would know the truth at least. ‘It wasn’t us who ran, sir.’

Vahram threw back his head and laughed. Pacorus and the others just looked incredulous.

‘It’s true.’ Romulus took a deep breath and tried to stay calm. Somehow he pushed away the pain in his head, focusing instead on their critical situation. It was vital that he persuade the Parthians of their story. ‘Where are the liars who accused us of running, sir? At least let us hear the accusation from their mouths.’

Pacorus was taken aback.

‘That’s fair enough, sir,’ said Ishkan.

‘Why bother?’ protested Vahram. ‘Look at them! It’s obvious that the dogs are guilty.’

The commander gave his senior centurion a measured stare before lifting a hand. An optio ran off to do his bidding.

Thank you, Mithras. Romulus breathed a small sigh of relief. Obviously all was not well between Pacorus and the primus pilus. If he could utilise that factor to their advantage, there might be some hope yet.

‘Tell us what happened then,’ ordered Vahram curtly. ‘While we wait.’

Romulus did as he was told. By the time he had finished, Ishkan at least appeared to believe him. But Pacorus, and particularly Vahram, seemed utterly unmoved.

Despairing, Brennus was of no help. He stood beside Romulus, looking at the floor.

The Parthians began to speak quick-fire in their own language. From the gesticulations and arm-waving, it was obvious that the primus pilus wanted them both dead. Ishkan was more measured, speaking in a deep, calm voice, while Pacorus stood with eyes narrowed, pondering.

At length the optio returned. Novius, Optatus and Ammias were two steps behind him. They had clearly been asleep until a few moments earlier. But all weariness fell away when they saw Romulus and Brennus. Novius’ face twisted with hate, and he muttered something to his companions.

‘This young soldier says that you were lying,’ announced Pacorus without preamble. ‘That in fact you and your comrades were the ones to run.’

Furious, Optatus opened his mouth to speak, but Novius laid a hand on his arm.

‘Of course he does, sir,’ the little legionary said smoothly. ‘But his word can’t be trusted. He and his friend are damn slaves. Not citizens like us.’

Optatus and Ammias nodded righteously. In Rome, slaves’ testament was only valid if it had been obtained by torture.

Pacorus seemed confused, so Ishkan leaned over and whispered in his ear. He had heard about the two friends’ isolation in the days preceding the patrol.

‘Idiot,’ the commander snapped. ‘You are all my prisoners. Who or what you were before Carrhae is irrelevant.’

‘Not to us, sir,’ replied Novius fiercely. ‘It’s very important.’

‘That’s right,’ added Ammias. ‘Sir.’

Shrewd enough to see how much it meant to the legionaries, Pacorus turned to Romulus. ‘Is it true?’ he demanded. ‘You are slaves?’

There was little point in lying. This was all about who was telling the truth. ‘We are,’ he said heavily.

Brennus shot him an alarmed glance, but Romulus stayed calm.

‘I knew it!’ Novius crowed with delight. His friends looked similarly jubilant.

Pacorus waited.

‘That doesn’t mean I ran away,’ Romulus growled. ‘Courage belongs to all men.’

‘True,’ Pacorus answered. ‘But I cannot tell which of you is lying.’ He turned to the primus pilus. ‘The whole damn thing is far more trouble than I need. Crucify them all.’

Vahram saluted with gusto. This would be a duty he would take great pleasure in. It was of little matter to him how many legionaries who went up on crosses. And, as friends of Tarquinius, he deeply distrusted the huge Gaul and his protege. The primus pilus waved his hand and the Parthian warriors swarmed around Novius and his companions.

They looked terrified.

Pacorus frowned at the three veterans’ reactions. They were very different to those of Romulus and Brennus, who seemed accepting of their fate. ‘Wait,’ he said. ‘I’ve changed my mind.’ The commander pointed at Novius, Optatus and Ammias. ‘You lot will fight the slaves,’ he said. ‘To the death.’

The little legionary looked uncertainly at his comrades.

Three against two, thought Romulus. Those odds aren’t too bad. Even the Gaul lifted his head. But Romulus eyed Pacorus with suspicion. Why this sudden change of heart?

Suddenly Vahram, who had been visibly disappointed, grinned. He guessed what was coming.

Pacorus wasn’t finished. ‘Slaves are not soldiers,’ he went on. ‘They should not bear weapons. It will be three swords against two pairs of bare hands.’

Romulus’ mouth opened while Novius could barely conceal his glee.

‘The gods will decide who is telling the truth,’ said Pacorus.

‘When?’ asked Ishkan.

The commander rubbed his hands together. ‘Right now,’ he answered. ‘Why not?’

Brennus’ shoulders lifted at last. This way I can die fighting, he thought.

Romulus clenched his jaw, determined to die like a man.

The gods had granted them another faint chance.

Without further ado, they were marched out to the intervallum. Pacorus wanted as