The Silver Eagle

Indus had been easier because it was by boat. This, on the other hand, felt akin to the odyssey that the Forgotten Legion had endured after Carrhae.

At least they had not been alone then.

By late afternoon, the pair had walked a further ten miles. Making their way to the sea again, they scanned the horizon for a long time. Nearly two decades younger, Romulus had the keener eyes. Happy that there was no sign of the trireme, he searched out a sheltered depression in the sand dunes which rolled back from the beach. Chopping the spiked lower branches from some nearby trees, the pair soon fashioned a high-sided, circular enclosure. It was large enough for them to lie down, and sleeping inside its protection would be safer than nothing at all.

They did not risk a fire. It was still quite warm and they had no food to cook. Any blaze would only attract unwanted attention anyway.

Tarquinius offered to take the first watch.

Gratefully accepting, Romulus fell asleep within moments. He dreamt of Rome.

When he awoke, thoroughly chilled, Romulus was unsurprised to find Tarquinius keeping vigil beside him. A faint light on the horizon hinted that daybreak was not far away. His friend had let him rest uninterrupted for the whole night. Feeling guilty, Romulus was about to say something, but held back. Facing east, the haruspex did not seem aware of his presence. Sitting perfectly still with his arms folded, Tarquinius resembled a well sculpted statue.

‘Forgive me, mighty Tinia,’ he whispered. ‘For what I have done.’

Romulus’ ears pricked up at the mention of the Etruscans’ most powerful god. As a Roman, he called him Jupiter.

There was a long pause, during which Tarquinius sat watching the myriad stars above gradually fade away. His lips moved in silent prayer.

Fascinated, Romulus lay still, doing his best not to shiver.

‘Great Mithras, accept my repentance,’ Tarquinius muttered. ‘I did what I thought was best. If mistakes have been made, then let me be punished as you see fit.’

Romulus was intrigued. What did his friend mean? Had it anything to do with their voyage? Although it had taken almost four years to reach Africa, the young soldier could not envisage how they could have got here more quickly. He held no grudge against the haruspex for this, for without his aid and the invaluable Periplus, Romulus would never have made it. For years now, his friend’s wisdom, guidance and prophetic ability had been as solid a support to Romulus as steering oars were to a ship.

Or was it something else altogether?

A feather of memory tickled the edge of Romulus’ mind, but frustratingly he could not recall it. At last the cold bettered him, and he shivered.

Instantly Tarquinius’ demeanour changed, and he became his usual calm self. ‘You’re awake,’ he said.

Romulus decided to be bold. ‘What were you saying?’

‘I was praying, that’s all.’ The haruspex’ face was an unreadable mask.

‘It was more than that.’

Tarquinius did not answer.

Sudden fear gripped Romulus’ throat. ‘Have you seen something about Fabiola?’ he demanded.

‘No,’ Tarquinius denied.

‘Are you sure?’

‘I swear it.’

Full of suspicion, Romulus studied his friend’s face.

Thin beams of orange sunlight crept over the edge of the nearest dunes. The temperature began to climb, which was a relief to both. Without blankets, their rest had not been the best quality. But before long it would be warm: uncomfortably so. And they needed to find food that day. Water alone could not sustain a man marching in this extreme environment.

Then it came. Romulus had no idea what made him think of it, the most passing of comments by Tarquinius nearly seven years earlier.

‘There was a reason that you fled Italy,’ he said softly. ‘You would not tell me before. What was it?’

Surprise registered in Tarquinius’ dark eyes and Romulus knew that he had hit the nail on the head.

‘I cannot say,’ replied the haruspex in a reluctant tone. ‘Yet.’

‘Why not? Because you still feel guilty?’

The acute observation sank deep.

‘Partly,’ Tarquinius admitted. ‘And the time is not right.’

‘Will it ever be?’ Romulus demanded angrily.

‘Soon.’

A braying sound broke in on their conversation, and the pair looked around in surprise. It was some distance away, but only horns could be responsible for that level of noise.

Horns blown by men.

And there was nowhere for them to run.

It would be best to stay hidden. Dragging Tarquinius with him, Romulus crawled to the edge of the depression. Nothing could be seen yet. They waited, an awkward silence between them. Long moments passed, until it was full daylight. Approaching from the south, the din grew louder and louder. Men’s shouts mingled with the clamour from the drums and horns, but it was impossible to make out words.

Over the nearest hill came a pack of hunting dogs in full cry. They were followed by an immensely wide line of figures walking shoulder to shoulder, beating drums and playing all manner of musical instruments as loudly as possible.

‘It’s a hunt,’ guessed Romulus.

Tarquinius’ eyes narrowed.

Of course every animal within earshot immediately headed north or west. There was no escape in the east, where the sea lay. The two friends watched, engrossed. Antelope and giraffe, elephant and zebra stampeded alongside each other, uncaring. Bush pigs squealed in terror, raising their tails as they ran. A herd of buffalo thundered along, shaking the ground. Even predators such as lions and jackals were affected by the fear and fled for their lives. Romulus saw a solitary, terrified leopard leave the safety of its tree to join the throng.

A group of zebra to the north was already lifting their heads at the noise. Seeing the approaching men, they twitched their tails and moved away. Instinctively their companions began to do the same. A few moments later, all were on the hoof, galloping away with long graceful strides.

The friends’ curiosity was up. Whether those they had seen were hunters, or bestiarii capturing animals for the arena in Rome, it was likely that they had come from the far north. Which was where they wanted to go. The excitement allowed their previous disagreement to subside, but Romulus had not forgotten it. There would be another time to talk, and he would not let the haruspex avoid answering his question then.

A sea change had just taken place in their relationship.

Tarquinius peered into the distance. ‘They’ll be heading for a narrow ravine.’

‘We can follow the beaters once they’ve passed,’ said Romulus. ‘Should be easy enough.’

‘If we’re careful,’ warned Tarquinius.

‘Of course,’ Romulus growled, irritated.

They squatted down on their haunches and waited. Romulus judged that the dogs and hunters would come within two hundred paces of their position, but no nearer. Fortunately the contour of the land angled away from them, towards the north. This meant that the wild beasts passed well clear of them, and in turn their pursuers did too. The pair remained hidden as the baying of hounds came closer and then died away. It was followed by the racket being made by the men, which also eventually faded into the distance. When there had been silence for a while, they stood up slowly. To the north, a large haze of dust was visible, driven up by the mass of fleeing animals.

The passage of hundreds of hooves left an unmistakable trail; Romulus and Tarquinius followed it for a good mile. The plain gradually narrowed as its sides rose to form low hills. On the tops of these slopes, primitive wooden fences had been built to stop any animals escaping.