My words landed on Bato as I wanted them to. I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to fight this bastard. Not because he’d slandered me. Not because he’d fought my legion.
Because he’d disrespected my king.
‘Ant?’ Bato roared, his face flushing. ‘You dare call me an ant?’
‘I believe Corvus was simply trying and failing to make an analogy,’ Pinnes said smoothly. ‘He is, after all, a soldier, not a scholar.’
Bato’s eyes burned through me. His voice was becoming thunder.
‘You will wait, Roman,’ he promised. Other business would not.
‘We have a chance here, Pinnes,’ Bato told the king.
‘A chance for what?’
‘For what? To kill Severus! To slaughter his army!’ Bato’s voice boomed.
‘Why would we attack Severus?’ Pinnes asked calmly.
‘Why?’ Bato nearly choked. ‘Because he is the enemy! What other reason do you need?’
‘The reason of winning this war,’ Pinnes said evenly. ‘Would it be wise for us to lose men against an enemy who is leaving this war peacefully?’
‘Wise?’ Bato tutted. ‘We don’t fight for wisdom, Pinnes, we fight for freedom. We fight for glory!’
‘And how will we achieve that if we lose half of our men against Severus, and then we have to face Tiberius in the summer?’
Bato wouldn’t hear it. ‘Assemble your tribes! Gather your army! Let us kill Romans!’
Pinnes said nothing.
Bato’s face was livid. ‘I do not understand you, Pannonian! Why else did you rebel if not for this? Why else do you make war if not to kill Romans?’
The king’s answer was even, measured, and final.
‘To win, Bato.’
The Dalmatian spat. His disgust was palpable. ‘Better dead with honour on the field, than living like a rat in the mountains. Do you know what they call you, Pinnes? They call you king of the rodents.’
His men laughed at that. So did the king’s. ‘He came up with that himself, you arse,’ one of them shouted.
‘Who said that?’ Bato roared.
Before a man could answer, Pinnes held up his hand. ‘Silence!’ he demanded, the word carrying across the plain like a cavalry charge. ‘I will have silence!’
None defied him. The mask of the warrior had returned. He turned to the Dalmatian.
‘We fight and die for one reason, Bato. Victory. Do you want it or not?’
Bato bristled but said nothing.
‘Do you want it or not?’
After a long moment, the big rebel nodded.
‘Then return to your camps, and put Severus from your mind. The Romans have just lost thirty thousand men without us losing one.’ The diplomat returned. ‘This is a day to celebrate, gentlemen.’
But Bato couldn’t help but snort. ‘We shall see.’
And then he turned his horse. His men did the same. Ziva did the same.
‘Ziva,’ the king ordered. ‘You will return with us to Mons Alma.’
I saw Ziva look to Bato. Only when the Dalmatian gave the slightest of nods did Ziva bow in the saddle to his Pannonian king.
‘As you command, lord King.’
And then we were riding from the field, and though no blood had spilled, I could not help but feel that I had just witnessed a mortal wound.
The alliance was dying.
Pinnes knew as much. I could see it when he looked at me and said, ‘Remember what I told you.’
Miran. Borna. Hostages.
‘I will remember, lord King.’ And then I said no more, because there were three riders coming from ahead of us, and they were coming fast.
‘Lord King!’ a scout reported from his flogged horse. ‘Lord King!’ He was so exhausted that he could barely speak.
The second rider did instead. ‘Lord King, there are men marching from Siscia.’
‘I know,’ Pinnes tried to calm them. ‘It is Severus, returning to Moesia.’
At that all three scouts shook their heads. ‘No, lord King. There are a further three columns.’
The riders paled.
‘Lord, they are coming to Mons Alma.’
Chapter 48
That night I was alone with the rebel king. Alone with the man whose death could buy my forgiveness, and my return to the legion.
We were sitting in his hall. A hall that would soon be abandoned. Outside, the rebel camp was being torn down, the stakes of the palisade tossed down the slopes, the soil of the ramparts filled into the ditches. Pinnes would not allow himself to be besieged here.
‘I should go and help my men,’ the king said again.
‘Your men can survive a night without you. You should rest.’ We both needed it, but neither of us moved.
‘What do you think I should do?’ he asked me after a moment.
‘Fight on,’ I said evenly.
‘Why?’
‘As you’ve said yourself, your men either die here, or they will die in a war of Rome’s choosing. If those are the options, then fight.’
The king nodded. ‘And what if there was a third option?’
My mouth dried. For a moment I felt treachery. Pinnes saw my angst, and laughed. ‘Relax, Corvus, you’re not that important. Rome wouldn’t end a war for you.’
It hit him then. The reality that he was that important.
His face settled. There was no fear, only inquisition. ‘Why haven’t you killed me?’ he asked.
I said nothing.
‘They’d forgive you, you know, if you took them my head.’
I didn’t deny it.
‘So why not?’
‘I’m not a murderer.’ I answered honestly. ‘I’m a soldier.’
‘You’re a warrior.’ Pinnes smiled, and something in his tone made me think of an old friend.
‘Cynbel gave you that speech too, did he?’
‘He did,’ the king remembered fondly. ‘I miss that man a lot.’
As did I, and I would miss this one too. ‘Vuk would not be happy if I tried to take your head,’ I tried to joke.
‘No, he would not,’ he smiled. ‘Thank you, Corvus.’ He had seen in my eyes that I believed him a great man. A worthy king. Someone worth following. Someone worth dying for. ‘Thank you.’
I nodded and accepted that our bond had strengthened. That I was sworn to him by deeds and words.
‘Vuk tells me you saved my life,’ he said.
That surprised me. I had taken a javelin meant for him on my shield, an act that I thought had gone unnoticed in the clash of battle.
‘I could reward you for that. I could give you land.’ He grinned. ‘Of course, first we’ll need to take them back from Rome.’
‘Lands aren’t really my thing, lord.’
‘Then what is? What does Corvus want from life?’
I breathed out. Once, it had been love. Then, it had been war, and brotherhood. A fire for vengeance had driven me to the rebel army, and now…
‘I’d like a family,’ I said honestly, the words stinging me to say out loud. ‘I’d like a family, lord.’
I had come full circle. I didn’t want war. I didn’t want battle. I wanted a family. I wanted to make my father proud. I wanted to make Cynbel proud.
‘I want a family.’
I could see that the words pained the king as much as they did myself. He knew who I was. What I was. Corvus the Traitor. A deserter of his own kind. An outsider in his new home.
I didn’t need to tell Pinnes that Miran was married to a nobleman. She wouldn’t be here as a hostage for any other reason. He put on a brave smile.
‘We’ll march south tomorrow,’ he told me. ‘We have well defended cities in the mountains. I chose this place so that we could march and fight, but now… now we’ll find you a fat girl to keep you warm and give you boys. How does that sound?’
‘It sounds good, lord King. And you?’
‘Oh, I’m not quite ready for marriage yet.’
I saw the lie. ‘You’re
holding yourself open for a peace cow?’
Pinnes nodded. ‘Is it too optimistic of me to believe that I could marry a Roman, and build bridges?’
‘A Roman? No. But the daughter of a high-born noble? I don’t know. You are a king, but you are not Roman.’
‘A barbarian, eh?’ he winked.
‘Well, when was the last time that you bathed?’
‘A fair point, my friend. If there’s one thing about this mountain I won’t miss, it’s the smell of the latrine pits.’ Pinnes got to his feet, walked away to a room, and returned with the box of Cynbel’s scrolls. ‘Thank you.’ He held it out to me. ‘A good read.’
‘Keep it, lord. Cynbel would be happy to know that they made it into a king’s library.’
He liked that, and smiled as he sat. ‘Will you ever go there?’
‘Britannia?’
He nodded.
‘I would like to see Cynbel again. And I would like to see the white cliffs.’
‘Then you will, my friend.’ He put his hand on my shoulder. ‘You will see him again.’
I accepted his confidence. ‘And tomorrow?’
‘Tomorrow, Corvus, we will leave this place and go south. We will lead the Romans on a merry chase, and we will kill them with a thousand cuts.’
Neither of us believed that would happen, but what other choice did we have but to try?
‘You should rest,’ I told the king, and he did not deny it.
We stood, and he offered me his hand.
‘You would have made a good Pannonian,’ he smiled, ‘but you make a better friend.’
I took the hand of a king. The hand of my friend.
Tomorrow, we would run before an army of Rome.
Chapter 49
When I left the king I sought out Miran and Borna, but I found by moonlight that their section of the camp was guarded by soldiers. I recognised them. They were Ziva’s troops. I should have been wary of them, but I was worried more for Miran and Borna’s safety than my own.
‘What’s going on here?’ I asked one.
He didn’t reply.
I stepped closer. ‘Do I need to put my fist into your skull and pull the answer out?’
He took the measure of me and decided that I was serious. ‘We’re guarding the hostages,’ he said with distaste.
‘I can see that, shithead. Why?’
‘Lord Ziva’s orders. Why don’t you go and ask him?’ the soldier grinned.
I decided that Miran and Borna were safe for now and turned to walk away. I’d taken a step when I heard the soldier laugh behind me.
He was too slow to react to the kick I put backwards into his gut, and fell groaning to the floor. Other guards shouted after me but I ignored them and walked into the darkness of the camp.
Questions flooded my mind. Why was Ziva guarding the Dalmatians? Did he mean to protect them for Bato? Without doubt he had a bond with that man. Could he be doing this out of loyalty to him, or was the snake simply putting himself in control of a bargaining chip?
I went in search of Vuk. I found him at the horse pens, and told him what I’d seen.
He already knew. ‘Someone needs to watch the hostages on the move. Might as well be Ziva.’
‘Can’t the bodyguard do it?’
‘With what men, Corvus? You’ve seen how shorthanded we are. Ziva hardly lost a man at the marshes. Let him do it.’
I said nothing. Vuk misunderstood my worry. ‘If he makes a mess of it then that’s good for you, isn’t it? He’ll either piss off his friend Bato, the king, or both. So let him.’
I should have been reassured that Ziva and Bato were bonded, and that Ziva would want to protect the hostages’ lives, but something was eating at my gut. Something that I couldn’t place.
I left Vuk, and went to find the only man who could help me.
* * *
I found Thumper at the tent. He had broken it down, preparing it to go onto the carts that would carry our equipment to wherever the army’s next home would be.
‘Oh, now you turn up, when the work’s already done.’ My friend laughed. ‘You should consider becoming a nobleman, Corvus.’
‘I need your help.’
‘Bloody balls,’ he groaned, ‘did I not already do the tent? Your stuff’s all packed, by the way. Thanks, Thumper. Oh, don’t worry about it, Corvus. No, no, I always wanted to be a slave. Anything else I can give you? How about I suck—’
‘Miran’s in danger.’
He stopped playing the fool. ‘How much danger?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe it’s nothing,’ I shrugged, ‘but my gut…’
‘Well, you know what they say about your gut.’
I was silent for a moment. ‘I can’t do it myself,’ I admitted. ‘Ziva’s men are around her. I got away with it tonight, in camp, but once we’re on the march?’
‘Be easy for the bastard to do you in,’ Thumper finished for me, ‘and leave you rotting in the woods.’
‘I need to stay close to the king, or the bodyguard,’ I said with shame. ‘At least until we get to our next camp.’ I breathed out then, the weight of what I was about to ask weighing heavy on me.
Thumper spoke before I could say it. ‘I’ll watch them,’ he promised. ‘And not because you’re asking, but because I want to. She’s a good lass, and he’s a good lad. Don’t worry, Corvus, Uncle Thumper will make it all better.’
He patted me on the shoulder, and forced a snort of laughter.
‘Please never say that again.’
‘Oh, shush. Now would you like a special cuddle before we leave the camp?’
The bastard. Even in the face of death he made me laugh. ‘You’re an arse, Uncle Thumper.’
‘So is that a no?’
We laughed, louder this time, then suddenly it was his turn to be serious. ‘While we’re doing favours, Corvus, I do have one thing to ask.’
‘Name it.’
‘This is going to be a long war,’ he said, and for the first time, I did not hear in him the confidence that the rebels would win it. ‘Should anything ever happen to me, you’ll tell my boys, won’t you? You’ll tell them that their old man died well.’
I could not answer. Not with words.
I put my arms around my friend’s wide back instead.
‘Oooh,’ he groaned, ‘special cuddles.’
Behind us, the horizon was growing grey. Orders began to echo across the camp.
Thumper looked up at me as a father did to a grown son.
‘Time to go, lad.’
* * *
We left Mons Alma at dawn.
Scouts told us that Tiberius had split his army into three parts. They had all left Siscia, but two had been lost to the mountains, their exact positions unknown.
That was of little concern to those leaving the mountain, mostly those of Pinnes’s Breuci tribe. It was the most northerly column that was in our mind. It was led by Tiberius, and it was heading straight for us.
From the scouts we knew that the Roman commander had covered more than twenty miles a day on the Sava Valley floor. His army was estimated to be made up of thirty thousand men, including at least three legions. King Pinnes’s force – reduced to garrison towns and mountain passes – was about the same size, though we were weak from a hard winter, while Tiberius’s men were well fed, and hungry only for war.
‘Will they attack us directly?’ Pinnes asked me as I rode beside him, south, away from the mountain that was our home.
‘He’ll try and fix us.’ I believed. ‘He’ll hem us in somewhere and wait for one of the other columns to join him. He’ll want to end this war in a crushing blow.’
We said little then as we rode through countryside coming alive with spring. Truly, was there anywhere more beautiful in the world? Jagged peaks stood strong and silent against clear blue sky. Meadows burst with flowers. There were birds in the air, and hungry men tried to net them. With warm sun on the skin there was the ever-present temptation to lie and look up at
a cloudless sky, but there was an army at our backs. They would close on us every day. Little by little, they would close. Four days was the scouts’ guess. Maybe less. We needed to reach a new sanctuary by then. We needed the other tribes to gather. The closest, the Mazaei, were less than a day’s ride away, and numbered ten thousand. The king had sent word to them and all other Pannonian tribes through his dispatch riders. Perhaps, if he could gather the full might of the Pannonians loyal to his cause, then he could give Tiberius reason to consider peace, not slaughter.
I looked to the king. He was proud in the saddle, though I could see the worry around his eyes. I believed that his tactic of avoiding pitched battle with Tiberius was the right one, but it hurt any warrior to retreat before a foe. I wished Cynbel were with us. He would know of wars and generals where men had faced these perils, and triumphed. He would know what to say.
Where was my friend now? Had he reached the sea? Had he crossed it to the white cliffs? Was he sitting in the home of his ancestors? Was he happy?
Gods I hoped so.
‘Lord King,’ I said. King Pinnes turned, but the reassuring words I had wished for did not come. I had only a look for him. One of pride. One of friendship.
It was enough.
‘Thank you, Corvus.’
Movement up ahead. Dispatch riders, riding hard to the king as we crossed open meadowland. Vuk’s men stopped and challenged the lead horseman before sending him on. When he came to the king’s side I saw foam on the mouth of his steed. He had ridden hard, and with good reason.
‘Lord King, the Mazaei are under attack!’
Chapter 50
The king acted quickly.
‘Ziva. Vuk. Corvus. We will take all of our cavalry, and ride to the Mazaei.’
‘Yes lord!’ Ziva replied, but the leader of the king’s bodyguard did not agree.
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