‘When do we ride to Bato?’ I asked.
‘We do not.’ The king shook his head. ‘I will take my bodyguard. You will remain here, Corvus. I need Bato peaceful, and you bring out the fire in him.’
I stayed silent. Vuk spoke.
‘I don’t trust Bato, lord. You saw how he disrespected you when you last met. Make him come to you.’
Pinnes smiled warmly. Something of his old self was returning in our presence. ‘I am glad to know that you worry for my safety, Vuk, but I do not believe the best way to talk Bato into laying down his arms is to summon him like a subject. I must flatter him, and stoke his sense of self-importance. I must make it feel like the idea of surrender is his, and that is best accomplished not by going to him in force, but on my knees.’
Vuk tutted and looked disgusted. ‘To him? Lord, you are a greater man than he could ever be! You cannot debase yourself this way!’
‘Can I not?’ the king asked kindly. ‘Can I not swallow my own pride if it means sparing the lives of thousands?’
‘You are a king, lord,’ Vuk tried.
‘I am,’ Pinnes agreed. ‘A king who led his people into a war. A king who failed them. Do not worry about me debasing myself, Vuk. I have fallen as far as I can fall.’
My heart broke for him. If he were any other man I would embrace him as a brother.
But he was a king.
Forever alone.
‘What can I do, lord?’
‘Wait for me here, Corvus.’ He took my hand. ‘Stay out of sight in this tent, and I will see you when we return with peace.’
* * *
The next morning, the king, Vuk and what little remained of the royal bodyguard rode from the column.
I was alone in his tent with nothing to do but think. I wanted to look for Thumper, Miran, and Borna, but I dared not. I had crept into camp in the dark with Vuk. No one knew that I was here, and there were hundreds of Ziva’s men in the camp. I must wait for the king’s return.
I paced the tent, and saw a familiar object on a campaign chest; Cynbel’s box of scrolls. Julius Caesar’s writing. What was Pinnes searching for in there? The wisdom of how to deal with defeat, and surrender? I did not know if such words existed. The scrolls I had read were filled with the deeds of the victor, not the vanquished.
I took out and opened the uppermost scroll, and recognised a name:
Vercingetorix.
He had been a great leader in Gaul. A thorn in Caesar’s side who bought the lives of his followers with the surrender of himself. Such sacrifice had seen him taken to Rome in chains, and publicly executed. Had Pinnes read this passage to steel his own heart? Had he surrendered knowing that this was how Rome might treat him, might end his noble life?
I placed the scroll away, my touch lingering on the box that had been held in Cynbel’s hands. I treasured this possession. I treasured Pinnes.
Fatigue pulled at my eyelids. There was a pallet bed for the king. I knew that he would not care if I used it, but instead I lay on the ground, the earth of Pannonia. I thought of what life held for me. When Pinnes secured peace with Bato, what next? If Rome was no longer his enemy, Bato’s alliance with Pinnes was meaningless. He’d spared my life before because I was ‘the king’s pup’. Would he send men for me in the night? What of Ziva?
What was certain was that the rebel army would soon send men to fight for Rome, and there was no place for me in that clemency. The rebels had stood as one against the Empire. I’d walked away from the brothers of my legion. There were varying degrees of treason, and I was guilty of the most heinous. The most unforgivable.
Perhaps I could go with Thumper back to his village. Surely in the mountains, a man could lose himself? Such a thought warmed me. There were far worse fates than the company of that man. When the king returned I would find him. I would thank him. I owed a lot to him. Thumper had brought me to this army, where I had found friends. He had given me laughter in winter. And now, he stood watch over Miran and Borna.
What had I done in life to deserve such friends as Thumper, Brutus, Octavius, Priscus and Varo? I felt unworthy of their brotherhood, but thankful for it all the same.
I was saved from the memory of another I had called brother when I felt the approach of horses through the soil. My first thought was that the king had returned far earlier than expected. My second was that the drumbeat of hooves was too few, and too furious.
Something was wrong.
I pushed myself to my feet, abandoned caution, and stepped outside of the tent.
Two riders clung to their mounts – they were of the royal bodyguard.
They were covered in blood.
‘Treason!’ one called, his voice a horrible croak. ‘Treason!’
Men were gathering arms. The word was spreading.
‘Who did this?’ someone demanded.
‘The Romans have attacked!’ shouted a soldier, but the wounded rider shook his head.
‘The Dalmatians ambushed us…’ he gasped, and bloody foam ran over his lips. ‘They have taken the king…’
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My first reaction was horror. My first instinct was to ride.
The king had been attacked. Men had died, but the dying rider swore that Pinnes yet lived. ‘They took him… they took the king.’
His horse was uninjured. I would take it and ride.
And then I heard it.
‘Kill the hostages!’ someone was shouting. ‘Find those bastard Dalmatians! Kill them! Kill them all!’
My stomach was sick. My loyalty was torn. Did I ride for the king, or my friends?
‘Kill the hostages!’
I pulled myself into the saddle. The horse had been ridden hard, but I was savage to him. We had to outrun the spreading word. We had to reach Miran and Borna before the order to kill them.
What had been the rebel army was spread long through the meadows. The river wound to my right. I rode through the centre of the camp, shocked faces looking back at me as I demanded, ‘The hostages! Where are the hostages?’
A few trembling hands pointed and I rode on. I spared no thought for Ziva’s men. I already knew that I would kill them if they tried to stop me. Ziva had surely abandoned Pinnes for Bato, and his protection of the hostages could only mean that he’d known of this treachery beforehand. Still, his men would not be able to protect the hostages against the vengeful spirit of the Pannonian army, and by some sick twist of fate, I found myself hoping that Ziva’s plan had been successful, and that his men had snuck the hostages away to win favour with his new Dalmatian lord.
And then I heard the screams, and I saw that I was wrong.
Ziva’s men were wetting their blades with Dalmatian blood.
Knots of soldiers chased screaming women and children through the tents. One of the men looked at me in time to see the boot that I kicked into his face. Another two turned their blades up towards me but I parried from height, and drove the steel into their heads and necks.
All around me was chaos.
All around me was panic.
‘Miran! Borna!’
I didn’t have time to think about why Ziva’s men were doing this. All I could do was kill them. They were trained soldiers, but I was Corvus, the traitor, the killer, the warrior, and I hacked and stabbed through four more of them as though they were children.
‘Miran! Borna!’
‘Corvus!’ I heard in the screams. ‘Corvus!’
Suddenly I was looking at the sky and my horse was falling. A soldier had cut out the beast’s ankles and I threw myself away as we toppled. I saw a flash of blade that bedded itself into the dirt as I rolled aside. Steel came for me but I scrambled free and to my feet. A javelin thrust towards me but I sidestepped, grabbed the shaft, and pulled the soldier forwards into a head-butt. The pain of it staggered me but dropped him, and I stamped hard on his face so that he would never rise again.
‘Miran!’
I used the javelin to steady myself as my vision cleared.
> ‘Corvus! Corvus!’
Another of Ziva’s men saw me but decided that he would rather live, and ran. I staggered forwards, and that was when I saw the three of them.
Miran. Borna.
Thumper.
‘No!’
Chapter 58
Thumper swayed as he stood guard before Miran and Borna. There was an axe in his hand, and it was bloody. There were wounds on his arms and body, and they were bloodier still.
‘Corvus…’
My friend fell forwards onto the bodies of the two men that he had killed. Miran and Borna cried out for the man who had saved them.
‘Thumper!’ I grabbed his shoulders and turned him onto his back. ‘Thumper!’
Bright blood ran from his lips as he smiled to see me. His eyes were unfocused, but in them I saw pride.
He gripped my hand. He was trying to speak, but there was only coughing, and splutters of blood.
‘I will tell your sons how you died,’ I promised, knowing what his words would be, ‘they will know that their father died as a hero, and a great friend.’
Thumper squeezed my hand harder. Miran was sobbing. ‘We can save him,’ she said.
But we could not. We had to save ourselves. So that Miran and Borna might live, a part of me had to die.
‘Corvus.’ Miran saw my blade. ‘What are you doing? Corvus?’
‘I’m sorry, Thumper.’
There was no time to say more than that. He was suffering. To talk at length – to hope against hope – would only drag out his pain. True comrades do not talk for days when the end has come. They do what they must, and they do it out of love.
Thumper understood. He couldn’t speak, but he understood. I saw it in his eyes.
My friend took one last breath, and then I drove the dagger into his heart.
Chapter 59
Miran cried out and reached for the blade.
‘Corvus, no!’
‘We have to go now!’ I snapped at her, and she backed away in fear at the mask of the killer.
I looked back to Thumper, and saw peace in his eyes. His spirit had passed. I pulled the dagger from his flesh then closed his eyelids, leaving a bloody handprint on his face.
Miran and Borna shook with horror as I stood and pulled them to their feet. I put my dagger in my scabbard, and fastened Thumper’s axe through the belt on my waist. There were screams as Ziva’s men hunted down what must have been the few remaining hostages.
‘What are you doing?’ Miran recoiled as I knelt down beside Thumper, and pressed blood from his wounds.
‘Stand still,’ I commanded as I rubbed the hot blood across her face and Borna’s. It would do something to disguise them, if only for a moment. ‘Follow me.’
I had a plan, though it was a pathetic one. A painful one.
‘What are you doing? Corvus, what are you doing?’
I was putting Thumper’s body on my shoulder.
‘He’s dead! Corvus, he’s dead!’
‘Follow me,’ I told her again. ‘Stay with me Miran! Follow me!’
With Thumper on my shoulder I took her hand, and pulled her after me. She did the same with Borna, and in this way I ran us through the tents and towards the river. If we met more than four of Ziva’s men we were dead, but fortune favoured us at last, and we reached the waters untouched.
Miran gasped in horror as I dumped Thumper’s body into the river. He was dead, but he had breath in his lungs. He could help us. Miran had no chance to say anything else as I threw her after Thumper’s body.
‘Hold on to him!’ I shouted, clutching Borna tightly to me, the terrified child screaming as I jumped down from the bank.
The water was deep and cold, winter snow melt, and the shock of it hit me like a shield.
‘Swim!’ I tried to shout through mouthfuls of water. ‘Take hold of Thumper!’
We didn’t have long until the air would escape him, but we didn’t need long. We just needed enough time to float clear of the camp.
The current was fast and Miran gasped and coughed as she took hold of Thumper’s floating body. On my back, and towing Borna, I did the same. We grasped his bloodied clothing and looked at each other over his corpse.
‘Just hold on,’ I told them, and they had no words for me, just chattering teeth as the cold water washed us north, and away from the camp. I kept my eyes on the banks, and saw men ahead. ‘Hold on and get under the water,’ I urged them. ‘Now.’
They were terrified, but terror can breed obedience, and they did as I said. I plunged my head into the water and prayed that the men on the bank would see a body floating by, and nothing more.
My head was singing from the cold and my lungs burned, but I would not raise my head. With my free hand I reached for Miran’s, found it, and together we held Borna’s. We squeezed each other’s flesh, fighting cold and the need for breath.
The child broke first. His hand was shaking. He was desperate. I could hold him under, but did I dare? Did I risk drowning Borna to save him from the men on the banks?
No. I let go of their hands. If one of us was breaking the surface then we all would.
My head came out of the water. The first thing I saw was an arrow embedded in Thumper’s chest. The second was that we had cleared the men on the banks, and that there were no others in sight.
Miran’s teeth chattered. Borna’s skin was blue. We had to get out of the water before the river killed us. I started kicking, steering us to the west bank. Camp was made on the east, and I wanted as many barriers as possible between us and Ziva’s men.
I watched Miran and Borna scuttle up the bank, and then, with a silent thank you, I released Thumper to the current. I watched my friend go until he slowly sank from sight.
‘Corvus,’ I heard behind me.
I turned, and saw Miran’s eyes red with tears.
It was then that she hit me.
Chapter 60
Miran hit me, and then she hit me again, and again. I knew why.
Thumper.
I’d had no choice. She knew I’d had no choice. That didn’t make it any easier to bear, and so she hit me.
When she was finished Miran fell into my arms. I felt Borna clinging to my leg.
‘It’s all right,’ I lied. ‘We’ll be all right now.’
In what world could that be true? I was twice a deserter. They were hostages on the run.
‘Why did they do that?’ Miran spoke, the shock of the bloodshed etched into every line of her face. Her eyes were wide, but empty. She had the look. She had the stare. In mere moments she had seen more than anyone should see in a lifetime. The worst of men. The best of them.
‘I don’t know,’ I told her, and that was the truth. ‘Dalmatians ambushed King Pinnes. They’ve taken him alive but killed his men. People in the camp wanted to kill the hostages, but I don’t understand why Ziva’s men turned on you so quickly.’
‘They told us they were there to protect us…’
There was only one reason I could think of. ‘Ziva doesn’t want there to be any way of saving the alliance between Bato and Pinnes. If he kills the hostages, what chance is there that Bato will keep the king alive?’
Miran didn’t need to say it. None.
‘We need to get to Bato,’ she said instead. ‘We need to tell him what Ziva is doing. He’s making a play to lead the Pannonians, Corvus. He’s making a move for power.’
She was right on all fronts, but…
‘I don’t know where Bato is.’
‘I do,’ she told me. ‘It’s a day on good horses. Three or more on foot.’
‘We don’t have horses, and we don’t have three days.’
At this she nodded. ‘You should go on alone, Corvus. You will be faster. You must go on alone.’
‘No.’ I’d made a promise to protect them, though I would not say that out loud. I had already failed them once, and Thumper had paid for that mistake with his life. ‘Bato wouldn’t trust me anyway. It needs to be you who tells him
, Miran. Your husband serves him. You’re a noble family. He will listen to you.’
Miran nodded and said nothing. Her teeth were chattering again.
‘Take off your clothes,’ I told them both, but neither moved. ‘The sun is warm, take off your clothes.’
Both stared numbly at me. Survival was at stake. I must be ruthless. ‘Do it now!’
They began to comply. I did the same. I kept my eyes from Miran’s body. She held her wet clothes in front of her.
‘Wring them out,’ I ordered, doing the same to my own. ‘They’ll dry on the move. We have to put some distance between ourselves and the army.’
No doubt Ziva’s men would be collecting the heads of the hostages to send to Bato, and enrage the man into taking the king’s own. When they came up two short, they would hunt for the missing faces.
‘Which direction is Bato’s camp?’
‘North-west.’
I made a quick appraisal of what was around us, selecting a path that would keep us from ridgelines, and in the cover of trees. There was no more time to wait.
I looked into their eyes.
I saw fear.
It was well deserved.
‘These next days will be hard,’ I promised them. ‘But if you trust me, and do as I say, I will get you alive to your husband.’
Miran nodded. Borna held back tears.
And then we ran.
Chapter 61
The sun had passed its zenith when we caught first sight of the men who were tracking us. Our bodies had warmed, our clothes had dried, and I had rubbed dirt onto the skin of each of us. Nature is the ally of the hunted. It had given us concealment. It had given us grubs that I forced Miran and Borna to eat. It had given me the straight shaft of a branch which I had whittled into a crude spear, and a fist-sized stone which rested inside my tunic, held there by my belt.
Borna continued to shiver, though it was now with fear, not cold. It was his sharp young eyes who first picked out the horsemen who followed us. There were four of them, doubtless Ziva’s men. I did not believe that they knew where we were, but they had guessed where we were going. These four were likely part of a net that had been spread along the riverbank with the design to catch us before we could reach Bato and inform him of Ziva’s plan.
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