Traitor

by Geraint Jones

  ‘He is not.’ Bato shook his head. ‘He is a Roman, and Romans have no protection.’

  ‘And what of Pannonians?’ I spoke up. I expected a blow, but Bato held his men back with a look.

  ‘You are a just lord,’ Miran said evenly, and without a scent of pandering. ‘Corvus saved my life, and the life of a Dalmatian nobleman. Surely that earns him the right to at least be heard in your hall?’

  For a moment, Bato said nothing, and then he gave a single, powerful nod.

  ‘Very well. Speak, Roman. You have saved the life of these two, and so out of respect for that I will hear what you have to say before I kill you.’

  The knowledge that I was soon to die should have unmasked me, but I was too far into the grave to fear death. It was failure that I feared.

  And so I spoke. ‘You ambushed the king,’ I said. ‘You killed Pannonians. Your allies.’

  Bato snorted. ‘They stopped being my allies the moment they made peace.’ He smiled at me, then. It was grim, and painful. ‘You better than anyone should know that you cannot make peace with Rome, any more than you can make peace with wolves and vultures. We have to keep fighting. The Pannonians have to keep fighting.’

  ‘There can be peace,’ I tried, and Bato laughed. It was the sound of stone, and iron.

  ‘The only peace is in the grave, boy,’ he declared. ‘Now, before I kill you, would you like to see the king one last time?’

  Chapter 65

  Rough hands pushed me towards the rear of the hall.

  I was being marched by Bato’s men, the rebel leader following behind me.

  I knew that I would not survive the day, but it was some comfort at least to know that I could make my peace with Pinnes, and ask his forgiveness for failing him.

  There was a door ahead of me. I could hear voices on the other side. A lot of voices.

  It was thrown open. The light took my sight as I was pushed through it. As I regained my vision, I saw that there were dozens of men, women and children standing there. I looked across the crowd, searching for faces. The first one that I recognised was Vuk’s. The second was the king’s.

  Their mouths were bloody.

  Their eyes were dead.

  Their heads had been mounted on stakes.

  I wanted to scream. I wanted to rage.

  Instead I fell to my knees.

  The king was dead.

  ‘Pick him up!’ Bato ordered. ‘This is Corvus the Traitor! Who would like to see his head on a spike?’

  Shame gripped me as I was dragged, and I fought to my feet. I saw it then, a bloody chopping block slick with blood. I looked again to the drained faces of Vuk and Pinnes. I had failed them both, and now flies crawled over their eyes and out of their open mouths.

  I could hear Miran shouting. I could hear Borna cry.

  Hands pushed me down onto the chopping block. I felt the wet slick of my friends’ blood on my neck. It was still warm. I had missed their deaths by moments.

  My eyes searched for Miran. I didn’t want the last thing I saw before I left this world to be death. Let it be life. Let it be a woman that I loved.

  ‘Miran!’

  It was not to be. Instead it was a familiar figure that stepped into my vision. One whose reptilian smile stretched across his face.

  ‘Ready to die, Roman?’

  I had never seen Ziva happier.

  ‘Why are you doing this?’ I snarled. ‘I’ll fucking kill you!’

  He laughed at that. He had every right to. My neck was on the block, and he was the right hand of Bato.

  ‘You can call me lord,’ he grinned.

  Instead I called him every curse I could think of. They only made him smile. Never had a man enjoyed a moment more than this. ‘I will give you this, Roman. You were loyal to the king. Good for you, Roman. Good for you.’

  I wanted to tear his eyes out. I wanted to force them down his throat.

  ‘You’re a traitor!’ I screamed. ‘A traitor!’

  At a look from Ziva his men shoved a dirty rag into my mouth to silence me. I bit and fought it but I was no match for them. With the rag in my mouth, and my nose broken from my fall, I struggled to breathe. I thought I might suffocate before the blade bit my neck.

  Ziva came closer and knelt beside me.

  ‘You know a lot about being a traitor, don’t you Corvus?’ His words were quiet. They were for me alone. ‘And your father knew too, didn’t he?’

  I struggled to break free. It was useless.

  He was smiling.

  ‘You never did look at the names I gave you, did you?’

  I wanted to bite out his throat. Choke on his blood.

  It was useless.

  ‘Shall I tell you their names?’

  I was trapped. I was cursed.

  ‘I think you’d like to hear them, wouldn’t you?’

  I wanted the blade. I wanted death.

  But Ziva would not let me die so easily.

  ‘Longus Rustius…’

  I struggled.

  ‘Lucius Umbrius…’

  I fought.

  ‘Clodius Scutarius…’

  I panicked.

  ‘Don’t say it!’ I tried to beg. ‘Just kill me!’

  And he did.

  With a name.

  ‘Marcus Ignius.’

  No more running. No more hope. I would leave this world knowing that the man I loved best had killed the people I loved most.

  There was steel against my neck now. I welcomed it. I was ready for it.

  But Ziva was still talking. I didn’t hear the words. My mind was screaming. He slapped my face.

  ‘I said, Corvus, that I will spare your life if you admit that you were a spy for Tiberius. Tell Bato the truth. Tell him that you were a spy, Corvus. Tell him that you came to Pinnes from Tiberius to make an alliance. Tell him that only I was loyal to the rebellion. Tell him that, Corvus, and I will give you your life.’

  I saw it then. The eyes never lie, and in Ziva’s I saw uncertainty. He feared Bato, and he had built an alliance with him on falsehoods, and the bones of a king. He wanted me to wash away doubt. He wanted me to prove that Pinnes was a traitor, and that Ziva was the rebellion’s loyal son.

  ‘Get this over with!’ I heard Bato shout. ‘Kill him!’

  But Ziva held up his hand to the executioner. ‘Will you do this, Corvus?’ He spoke quietly. ‘If I give you your life, will you give me what I want?’

  His snake eyes burned into mine. There was nothing I wanted more than to drive my thumbs through them and into his skull.

  Instead I nodded my consent, and pleaded with my eyes for mercy. Ziva grinned in triumph, and pulled the rag from my mouth.

  ‘The Roman has something to say!’ he declared to all, and I was dragged to my feet.

  Dozens of eyes burned into me. They were hungry for blood. Hungry for war.

  ‘Say it,’ Ziva hissed. ‘Tell them you are a Roman!’ he said loudly. ‘Tell them what the king plotted.’

  Instead I looked to that man. I looked at the dead face of a king who had offered me family, and a home.

  ‘Tell them.’

  And I did.

  ‘I serve King Pinnes!’ I roared. ‘I serve King Pinnes!’

  They were the last words I would ever speak. Air was driven from my lungs. My head was driven to the block. Steel touched my neck as the executioner set ready for his swing.

  ‘Kill him!’ Ziva shouted. ‘Kill him!’

  And I was ready. Ready for the blade. Ready for the end.

  Ready, because I had found a home worth killing for.

  A family worth dying for.

  I belonged.

  I was not alone.

  And I would leave this world a rebel.

  Author’s Note

  Poor Corvus. He’s been through a lot, and though his character was born of my imagination, a lot of this book is grounded in reality.

  As we covered in Legion, two large forces of Pannonian and Dalmatian tribesmen were
raised to fight for Rome in a campaign that would be led by Tiberius. Instead, when they saw what a force they had gathered, the would-be auxiliary units turned against the Empire.

  The provinces of Pannonia and Dalmatia were not established until after the events in this book (it was one province, Illyricum), but I have used them because the two rebel contingents were based along these lines. Both contingents were made up of several tribes. According to the ancient sources, some of the tribes stayed loyal to Rome, and others went back to her side, but I have simplified the alliances for the sake of this story. As with the tribal wars of today, alliances often shifted and were extremely complicated. It’s hard enough trying to disentangle modern conflicts with all the available resources, and so to do so with barely any primary sources for this period is an impossibility, which is good news for a writer who enjoys filling in the gaps with best guesses and imagination. As I always want to stress, this is a work of historical fiction.

  We do know something of the rebel leaders, however. The Dalmatian rebels were led by Bato the Daesitiate (Bato, in our book), and the Pannonians by Bato the Breucian, and King Pinnes. For simplicity’s sake, I have rolled much of Bato the Breucian and King Pinnes into one character, with the fictional Ziva taking up some of the slack. It appears as though Pinnes’s aggressive hostage-taking policy eventually led to him falling foul of his allies, and he was executed by his erstwhile comrades.

  There was a point where the rebels almost turned the tide of war against Rome. They did indeed attack Severus’s force at the Volcae Marshes (west of modern-day Sremska Mitrovica, Serbia). They routed the allied cavalry and killed many Romans, including tribunes. Only the courage of the rank and file prevented total disaster, and though mauled, Severus’s army survived. He was able to join up with Tiberius, but was sent east again soon after. Some historians believe this was because of a clash of personalities. Another reason could be that the task of supplying and manoeuvring such an army was too great, or that they decided their eastern provinces were too exposed.

  Tiberius did unleash flying columns across the region, and Germanicus is credited with the near wholesale destruction of the Mazaei tribe. It was not, it appears, a war where much quarter was given in battle. Perhaps that is what led the Pannonian rebels to sue for peace, and they surrendered to Tiberius beside the river Bathinus (what is believed to be the modern-day Bosna).

  Considering that the war was such a massive undertaking, little detail about the events has passed down to us. Cassius Dio and Velleius Paterculus are the two main sources that I’ve drawn from. What I am looking for in these texts is a skeleton on which to place the flesh of a story. I try and fill in the blanks with educated guesses, but they are guesses nonetheless, and it is important to remember that the people who lived through the events were possibly as in the dark then as we are about them now. I’ve been to war three times, and I didn’t ever know what was going on! With that being the case, I take all sources with a grain of salt. After all, propaganda is not a modern invention.

  Outside of their acts in the war, little is known of Bato and Pinnes. There is no doubt that Bato was a formidable warrior. Equally, I have little doubt that Pinnes must have been a determined leader to hold together his alliance of tribes, and to negotiate a peace that did not end with his people in chains, but as I say, there is little of fact known about them. He certainly pushed too hard in the end, and that cost him his life.

  When it comes to language, I made the decision with this series that I would use language and patterns of speech that perhaps don’t always reflect what would have been true in the age. I want these characters to feel as familiar as possible to the reader, and I don’t think that’s possible if they’re talking in a way that sounds too alien to us now. After all, we’re not reading this book in the language of ancient Rome, or Illyria, and so I lean towards what I hope is a good flow for the reader.

  Aside from the leaders of the armies, and Arminius, all the other characters are fictional, but I have infused them with the personalities of men and women that I have either read about in different periods of military history, or met during my own service. From all that I have seen and read, I am convinced that the character of soldiers – and of humans more generally – transcends time.

  Something else that transcends time is injury. In this book, Corvus occasionally suffers from painful headaches. Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI) is something that we’re still learning about, but it’s certainly something that Corvus would likely suffer from after the amount of times he’s been knocked unconscious. He’s taken a lot of punishment, but I’m not done with him yet. The Pannonians may have surrendered to Rome, but Bato and his Dalmatians fight on, and so there’s still a lot more blood to shed.

  Acknowledgements

  Like winning any battle, publishing a book requires a team effort. I am very grateful to everyone involved in this project: from friends and family who listen to my new ideas, to those who deliver the books into people’s hands.

  I am especially grateful to Craig and the Canelo crew. Though they sound like a gang of fearsome Chicago mobsters, they are in fact a brilliant publishing house who have made this book better at every stage of the editorial process. Special thanks to Miranda for the all-important copy edit, and for solving a lot of my headaches.

  As ever, thank you to my friends and family for the support, and to my agent Rowan.

  Final thanks are of course owed to you, the reader. I love what I do, and you make it possible, so thank you. I hope I have repaid your trust in me with a good story.

  I can’t wait to bring you the next one.

  About the Author

  Geraint Jones is a New York Times and Sunday Times best-selling writer. He served in the British Army as an infantry soldier, seeing combat in Iraq and Afghanistan, then worked as a mercenary to protect shipping from Somalian pirates. Geraint traded his gun for a pen in 2016, and now writes from his home in Wales.

  Also by Geraint Jones

  The Blood Forest series

  Ambush (previously titled Blood Forest)

  Siege

  The Raven and the Eagle series

  Legion

  Traitor

  Rebel

  First published in the United Kingdom in 2021 by Canelo

  Canelo Digital Publishing Limited

  31 Helen Road

  Oxford OX2 0DF

  United Kingdom

  Copyright © Geraint Jones, 2021

  The moral right of Geraint Jones to be identified as the creator of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  Ebook ISBN 9781800324107

  Print ISBN 9781800324114

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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