though their deaths could be put down to bandits: a random event that would not be repeated. The border with Gaul was a week’s march away, and the thought of seeing Brutus again filled her with joy.
Even Secundus and Sextus seemed happier. Only Docilosa remained in bad spirits. Not even the prospect of better weather could please her. All along the roads, the frost was melting. Snowdrops were already poking free of the short grass beneath. When the sun emerged from behind the clouds, there was a new warmth in its rays. Spring was coming at last. Birds sang in the trees, alerting the world to the fact. Fabiola could not stop herself from smiling at Docilosa’s continued grim demeanour as the litter bumped and creaked along.
Later, she would regret not paying more attention to it.
Their choice came in the afternoon, not long after the road had entered a narrow valley. Tall trees hemmed in the way ahead, their bare lower branches reaching out threateningly at head height. Entering, the bright sunshine all but disappeared, leaving a small strip of sky visible overhead. Between the closely positioned, gnarled trunks on either side were huge boulders covered in moss, the remnants of an ancient rock fall. Few birds or animals were visible, leaving a deathly silence over the wood. It was most unwelcoming.
Unusually, Sextus had left Fabiola’s side to check out the way ahead with two men acting as scouts. Secundus conferred with them upon their return while Sextus stood alongside, nodding his head. According to the three, there was little choice but to press on. The alternative route around the defile would set them back a day or more.
‘My lads saw no sign of anyone,’ Secundus announced. ‘And this section only lasts for a short distance before opening out again.’
Unsure, Fabiola chewed her lip.
‘They both have noses for trouble like a hound on the scent,’ Secundus went on. ‘We’ll be through it in half an hour. No more.’
Sextus grinned encouragingly.
The temptation was too much for Fabiola. If Sextus, her good-luck talisman, was happy, then it must be safe. Ignoring Docilosa’s grumbles, she nodded her assent.
A trio of Secundus’ men led the way, bows at the ready. Next came the litter, borne by the sweating slaves, flanked closely on either side by a pair of veterans. The narrowness of the road and the sweeping branches meant that these men were forced to stoop regularly as they walked. Taking up the rear were Sextus, Secundus and the last two of his followers. It was far from an ideal way to continue, thought Fabiola as she peered out and almost lost an eye to the sharp end on a half-decayed branch.
Time dragged in the semi-darkness. In an effort to lift the mood, Fabiola tried engaging Docilosa in conversation about the possibility of finding Sabina, her daughter. The child had been taken from her at the tender age of six, sold as an acolyte to one of the temples. It was a bad choice of topic. Docilosa’s sour expression deepened, remaining unchanged no matter what Fabiola said. She determined to try and track down Sabina if she ever got the chance. It would be worth paying good money just to see Docilosa smile.
Docilosa sensed it first. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked sharply.
Deep in thought, Fabiola did not react.
The litter came to an abrupt halt, jolting her into awareness.
There was silence for a moment, and then the air filled with terrifying screams. They came from all around them, and Fabiola froze.
‘Fabiola!’
She came alive at the sound of Secundus’ voice.
Soft hissing noises were followed by thumps and shouts of pain. Arrows, thought Fabiola. An ambush. Would the gods never leave her alone?
‘Get out! Quickly!’
Docilosa looked terrified, but Fabiola took her arm and forced her to follow. Death awaited them if they stayed put. Pulling aside the curtain, she forced her way through a dense clump of branches to the ground. Muttering to herself, Docilosa came too. Sextus was waiting, and protectively ushered them forward. He looked shame-faced.
Ducking down, Fabiola moved to the front of the litter. Three of Secundus’ men were crouched there, holding their shields together to form a protective screen. Alarm filled her. The road ahead had been blocked with a combination of large rocks and pieces of fallen deadwood, completely preventing the slaves from carrying the litter past. And from behind the barrier’s protection, cloaked figures were firing volleys of arrows at the ex-legionaries. Thanks to the low-hanging branches and the poor light, their faces were obscured. Whatever their ambushers’ identity, they had moved fast to set the trap after the scouts had returned.
Her head turned this way and that, trying to assess the situation. There was only one body in clear sight, that of a veteran. An arrow jutted from his open mouth, a fatal shot that would have given an instant of blinding pain before total oblivion. She couldn’t see the remaining five, or Secundus.
‘Where is he?’ she asked.
‘On the other side of the litter,’ replied one of the ex-soldiers grimly. ‘Kneeling behind his
‘We can’t stay here,’ protested Fabiola. ‘They’ll pick us off one by one.’
Reinforcing her point, two barbed shafts thumped into the litter just over their heads. The slaves moaned in fear. Jeers and insults from their attackers followed.
Sextus and the three veterans stared at her mutely. Fabiola realised that low-rankers were used to following orders, not initiating them. They would hardly obey her either — a woman whom they did not trust. Fabiola was therefore very relieved when Secundus appeared behind her. Given the choice of whether to bear arms or protect himself, he had opted for the safer option of using a shield. He was accompanied by five others, one of whom had a broken arrow protruding from his left arm. It meant that the sole fatality so far was the unfortunate lying in front of the litter.
They all waited to see what Secundus would say.
‘There’s only one way out,’ he said. ‘And it isn’t by retreating.’
‘Why not?’ asked Fabiola. At least they knew the route that lay behind. Who knew what was ahead?
‘I heard voices back there.’
‘So did I,’ added the oldest of the group.
This was met with uniform scowls.
‘Another group waiting to butcher us if we run,’ said a sallow-faced veteran with pockmarked cheeks.
‘There are more of them than we thought,’ muttered Secundus. Crouching down, he beckoned.
His men immediately huddled closer and, knowing she had to be guided in such situations, Fabiola did the same.
‘We charge the fuckers,’ declared Secundus confidently. ‘Go straight across the barrier.’
‘Just like old times,’ interjected the sallow-faced man.
There were fierce nods of agreement. Faced with death yet again, the veterans felt the familiar thrill of battle. Along with the pumping adrenalin and the knot of fear in their bellies, it felt good. None of them had ever shirked their duty; they would not do so now.
‘Does the first one over the summit get a
Everyone except the two women laughed.
Secundus saw their confused look. ‘It’s the golden crown given to the first man on top of an enemy wall,’ he explained.
‘What shall we do?’ asked Fabiola, keeping her voice as calm as possible. ‘Tell us.’
Docilosa moved closer and clutched her mistress’ hand; alongside Sextus snarled silently.
Pleased by their willingness, Secundus smiled. ‘We’ll form a small wedge. There are few men who can withstand it,’ he said. ‘These dogs will be no different.’
‘We have no shields,’ said Fabiola stoutly. ‘Does that matter?’
Respect filled the one-armed veteran’s eyes. ‘Don’t worry,’ he replied. ‘Both of you will be in the middle.’
‘And on the other side?’
‘We make a run for it. If enough of them are dead, they’ll have lost the stomach for a fight. Otherwise, there’s a small settlement not far beyond the trees which should provide safety.’
