The Wolf's Gold: Empire V

by Anthony Riches

  Maximus flushed red as they brushed past him, his voice echoing up the steps that led back up into the daylight.

  ‘Are you threatening me, Tribune?’

  Scaurus barked a single word over his shoulder and kept walking.

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘This is my mine. Raven Head.’

  Still breathing hard from the climb that had brought them a third of the way up the mountainside, Mus gestured proudly to the massive rock that loomed over the mine’s entrance, the peak’s beak-like overhang giving it the dark silhouette of a carrion bird against the clear blue of the sky above. A hole opened in the mountainside before the two boys, heavy wooden props to either side of the black space supporting a massive cross-beam above the entrance. Lupus stared dubiously at the black square, shaking his head slightly.

  ‘It’s dark.’

  The smaller boy smiled, stepping forward to the mine’s threshold.

  ‘It’s better once you’re inside. Your eyes adjust, and there are lamps too. Come on, let’s go and have a look around.’ He reached for a jar of lamp oil from a stack by the open doorway and then walked into the darkness, disappearing from view as if he had been wiped away, although when Lupus strained his eyes he caught the barest shadow of his new friend waiting for him in the gloom. Summoning up his courage he forced himself to walk into the blackness, advancing in small steps until, with a start, he found himself beside Mus, the younger child’s eyes gleaming with the light from the doorway’s pale rectangle. When he spoke the boy’s voice was no more than a whisper.

  ‘See, it’s no different from being out there.’

  Lupus shivered.

  ‘It’s cold.’

  ‘That’s why I said to fetch your cloak. It’s colder when you get deeper into the mountain.’

  Mus reached out with fingers made expert by long practice and found a lamp in a small alcove.

  ‘Here we are.’

  He fiddled in the darkness for a moment, then Lupus heard the familiar sound of iron and flint. Blowing gently on the sparks that flew onto the lamp’s wick Mus coaxed a flame to life, bringing a meagre but to Lupus’s eyes very welcome light to the darkness. Standing with the lamp in his hand the younger boy grinned happily at his new friend.

  ‘Come on, I’ll show you round.’

  He turned and padded away into the darkness, his small body framed in the lamp’s pale light, leaving Lupus staring at his receding figure. Turning back to the mine’s entrance, he was momentarily gripped with an instinctive need to run for the rectangle of daylight, but knew in his heart that doing so would not only expose him to the younger boy’s derision but that some part of him would be dissatisfied with the choice to retreat in the face of his fear. Still troubled by the darkness around them, he paced forward in Mus’s wake, concentrating on not losing sight of the boy’s back. The passage walls, dimly illuminated for a few feet on either side, were rough, snagging at his fingers as he reached out for their reassuring touch, and the floor was damp and uneven beneath his boots as it sloped gently up into the mountain. Even the faintest of sounds were magnified by the tunnel’s echoes, each scrape of the boys’ boots sounding like a dozen footfalls. The pair walked in silence down the passage for long enough to reduce the entrance to a distant speck of light, and to Lupus’s surprise he found his initial panic increasingly forgotten as the means of its relief receded gradually from view.

  ‘Here we are, here’s the first ladder.’

  Lupus frowned, looking at the wooden ladders that ran both upwards and downwards from the spot, unable to see where they led to.

  ‘We have to climb?’

  Mus turned back to him, perhaps sensing the uncertainty in his voice.

  ‘We have to go down to reach the place where they mine the gold. Don’t worry, it’s safe as long as you only move one hand or foot at a time, at least until you get used to it.’

  ‘But you’re carrying the lamp?’

  ‘Don’t worry, I can climb the ladders one-handed. Here, you go first.’

  Suitably reassured, Lupus climbed gingerly onto the ladder and started down with slow, cautious movements, quickly gaining enough confidence to speed up his pace to what seemed like a breakneck descent.

  ‘Good, just take it nice and steady, and don’t look . . .’

  The other boy’s sentence was still incomplete when Lupus found himself compelled to stare down into the darkness. He stopped and hung from the ladder’s rungs, an abrupt and irresistible terror gripping him as he realised that he had no idea what depth of empty air waited beneath his feet. Mus spoke to him from above his head, bringing the lamp close to his face to reveal a reassuring smile as Lupus looked up at him.

  ‘It’s not far now, just climb down slowly and be ready for your foot to reach the ground. Trust me.’ Screwing up his nerve, Lupus lowered one foot to the next rung down, waiting for a moment with sweat running down his face before moving the other. ‘Good! Keep going, we can get a drink of water when we get down.’

  Lupus climbed down another dozen rungs before his foot touched rock, and he staggered away from the ladder as Mus alighted gracefully behind him. The boy took him by the arm and led him to a channel cut into the floor.

  ‘See, water. Have a drink, we’ve a little way to go yet.’

  They drank from cupped hands, and Lupus found the ice-cold water refreshing and clean to the taste.

  ‘Where does it come from?’

  Mus grinned back at him in the half-light.

  ‘Come down another ladder with me and I’ll show you. And where the gold comes from.’

  Marcus walked up to his tribune and saluted smartly, repeating the gesture for Tribune Sigilis’s benefit but giving his attention to Scaurus and thereby turning his face away from the younger man as much as possible. The two men were standing by the wall’s only opening, a ten-pace-wide gap in the centre of the rampart’s eight-hundred-pace length into which a heavy wooden gate was to be set before being backed with enough turf to make it a temporarily immovable part of the defences. They were looking along the line of the planned fortification, and Sigilis was gesturing along the shallow wall with an enthusiasm that the young centurion found surprising given his previous reserve, and his apparent contentment to stay in Tribune Belletor’s shadow.

  ‘And perhaps we might make their task even harder by embedding stakes in the upper part of the wall, pointing down to keep them from placing ladders against the parapet?’

  Scaurus smiled with what looked suspiciously like a trace of indulgence to Marcus’s trained eye.

  ‘Indeed we might, in fact my first spear was muttering something to the same effect when we were designing this edifice. Centurion?’

  Marcus snapped to attention, playing the part of an obeisant officer with all his wit.

  ‘Tribune, sir, you asked me to scout the valley’s northern side. I can report that the watch post between Rotunda Mountain and the ridge to the west is intact and undisturbed, but that the ground around it shows signs of having been trodden by Sarmatae mounted scouts within the last twenty-four hours. Additionally, the ground beyond the Saddle is open and has been deforested for several hundred paces, making it highly suitable for an enemy attack.’

  Scaurus grimaced.

  ‘I suppose it was inevitable they’d have a watch on the valley. How easily can the Saddle be defended against an attacking force?’

  Marcus shrugged, unconsciously calling on the military knowledge he’d gleaned in the previous eighteen months of brutal lessons at the hands of the barbarian tribes of Britannia.

  ‘I wouldn’t want to lead any strength of cavalry up the north slope, Tribune, it’s shallow enough for a mounted approach, but littered with rabbit holes and boulders. Any infantrymen that might be sent up it will be tired from the climb up through the forest, and would have to attack uphill into prepared defences, but if they’re going to get around that . . .’ He gestured to the turf wall’s length. ‘Their leader may decide to spend his foot soldiers lavishl
y if it’s the price of putting men in our rear.’

  Scaurus nodded, turning to Sigilis.

  ‘So colleague, while this wall and the fortifications we’ll use to deny the enemy the slopes to either side of it are of the utmost importance, we’ll need to be on our guard against just such an attempt to outflank them. Our colleague Belletor might well decide to mount a guard on this weak spot, with the right encouragement from a man he considers to be of equal standing? I fear I’ve used up all the presumption our fragile relationship can bear for the time being, but if you were to make such a suggestion . . .’

  The younger man nodded his head with a look of understanding, and Scaurus smiled easily.

  ‘Good. I do so dislike having to manoeuvre him when a man he considers his social equal can be so much more persuasive with a good deal less effort. In the meanwhile the only question that really matters now is just how far away the warband is, because if they arrive in front of this wall before it reaches an effective height, we might as well not have bothered going to all this effort. Perhaps a mounted reconnaissance . . .’ He turned to look down the line of the defence work, the space around it teeming with labouring men cutting turfs and carrying them to the slowly ascending structure, while Marcus stood in silence, acutely aware of Tribune Sigilis’s unblinking scrutiny. ‘Yes, I think a scouting party would be our best means of finding that out. Carry a message to Decurion Silus, if you will Centurion Corvus, and invite him to join me here at his earliest convenience, along with yourself and your Hamian colleague. I believe the time has come for us to gain a somewhat better understanding of what’s on the other side of this particular hill than we have at the present.’

  He paused, having noted the approach of Felix, the owner of the Split Rock mine further down the valley. The businessman was clearly in a state of agitation, practically running up the slope towards the officers, and Scaurus turned to his colleagues with a wry expression.

  ‘Ah, I’ve been expecting this all day. I have to say I’m surprised it’s taken him this long to realise he’s got a problem.’ He called out to the troubled mine owner. ‘Greetings, Felix, can we be of any assistance to you? You do seem a little distressed.’

  Felix covered the last few paces between them in the attitude of a supplicant, his hands pressed together as if to solicit a favour, and the look on his face openly pleading.

  ‘Tribune Scaurus, a dreadful mistake has been made, a terrible error that must be put right! I beg of you . . .’

  Scaurus tipped his head to one side, his face taking on a sympathetic cast.

  ‘I will do whatever is within my power to assist you. Tell me, what is this “dreadful mistake”?’

  Felix turned and pointed at the wall with a look of horror.

  ‘This wall, Tribune! It is too far up the valley, and my mine is left outside the defences! When the enemy come they will have my business at their mercy, undefended and open to their pillage!’

  ‘I see . . .’ Scaurus stroked his chin as if in deep thought. ‘Yes, that is a problem.’

  Felix’s face brightened.

  ‘So you’ll move the wall, Tribune?’

  Scaurus shook his head sadly.

  ‘I’m afraid not. Not only would that be an insane waste of the progress we’ve already made, but this rampart’s current line requires it be no more than eight hundred paces long. Whereas, were I to command it to be moved in order to defend the emperor’s property to the south, including a mine which you are fortunate enough to be allowed to work on his behalf . . .’ he paused to allow the statement to sink in, ‘then I would need to double its length. We would need twice as much turf, which would take twice as long, and I would then need at least twice as many soldiers to defend it. So, as you can see, I have neither the time nor the manpower to incorporate the Split Rock mine into the valley’s defendable ground, Felix. You and your men, however, will be safe enough behind this.’

  He patted the eight-foot-high foundation beside him. Felix gestured helplessly in response.

  ‘But my mine . . .’

  ‘Will indeed be undefended, although I’ll be happy to lend you a sword if you’re that keen on fighting to keep what’s yours?’

  The mine owner’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘You’re making fun of me. I don’t believe you ever truly intended to defend the Split Rock, did you?’

  Scaurus shrugged, his response couched in a breezy tone which did little to mask the steel that underlaid it.

  ‘In all truth, Felix, it was never my main concern. I simply told my officers to find the best line with which to defend the valley and its occupants, and this is what they settled on. If I were you I’d count my blessings, given that we’re here to stand between you and enough barbarians to put a very severe crimp in your day. I’d get as much of your equipment as you can out of the mine and prepare whoever’s left down there to evacuate when the Sarmatae get here. Unless you want to find yourselves fighting to defend the emperor’s gold?’

  ‘It’s so cold!’

  Mus shrugged at the comment, even though the unconscious gesture was invisible in the mine’s gloom.

  ‘That’s why I told you to wear your cloak.’

  They paced through the darkness, Lupus making sure he stayed close to the dim glow of Mus’s oil lamp. The younger boy stopped several times to add oil to the lamps perched on shelves cut into the passage’s stone walls, their flames providing tiny islands of light in the pitch-black that seemed to bear down on them from all sides. Eventually a slightly brighter light appeared around a bend in the passage, and Mus turned to him with a finger to his lips, whispering in his new friend’s ear.

  ‘Be very quiet. I don’t want them to see us.’

  They crept down the corridor, and when he judged that they were close enough to the light from whatever it was that was waiting, Mus put the lamp down before leading Lupus forward again. Keeping low, they peeked around a corner into a chamber lit by torches, the open space dominated by a massive wooden wheel, three times as tall as a full-grown man and mounted on a heavy axle. A pair of muscular labourers were toiling at the device, using their strength to turn the wheel by means of bars protruding from each of the spokes, their powerful arms bulging with the effort. Another two equally powerful men sat off to one side with an hourglass and a water jug. Mystified, Lupus whispered a question.

  ‘What are they doing?’

  Mus pointed to the wheel.

  ‘Look at the bottom of the wheel. Can you see the water?’

  The wheel’s bottom was submerged in a pool of water, and as Lupus stared harder he realised that as it turned, the device was dragging wooden buckets attached to the rim through the pool. Whilst a little of the water captured by the buckets splashed out as they rocked to and fro, they were clearly still quite full as they swung on their mountings. From his own experience of carrying the medical wagon’s water bucket to and from whatever river or spring the cohort camped by, he knew that they were bound to be heavy. At the height of their travel the buckets were tipping over into a wooden trough carefully aligned with the top of the wheel.

  ‘Now you can see why the passage we climbed down from slopes uphill. The wheel takes the water up to the level of the passage we climbed down from, and the water runs down the slope and then away down the hillside.’

  As they watched, the last sand ran out of the glass and the resting workers climbed to their feet and took over the task of dragging the wheel around, while the men they had replaced stretched their aching bodies before sinking down onto the rock floor to rest.

  ‘Is that all they do all day?’

  ‘If they don’t do it then the chamber would fill up with water and soon the mine would be flooded. And it’s safe now. My friend Karsas is having a rest.’

  Lupus followed Mus into the chamber, and one of the workers got to his feet with a smile of greeting.

  ‘Welcome, little one. Who’s this you’ve brought to see us?’

  ‘He lives with the soldiers. He�
�s got a sword, and he let me hold it.’

  ‘So you repaid the favour by bringing him down here? You chose the right time to come forward though. If Gosakos there were not at the wheel, I expect he’d be chasing you round the chamber with his prick in his hand.’ Lupus frowned and turned to look at the men on the wheel, meeting the hungry stare of the closer of the two with a shiver of fear. ‘Not to worry, he knows what happens to men like him if they make the mistake of touching my friends. And he’ll be turning that wheel for a while now, so we’ve got time to talk if you like? It still helps to talk . . .’

  Mus shook his head.

  ‘Not today. Can we have a look at the face?’

  Karsas put his head back and chuckled, winking at Lupus.

  ‘You want to see some gold, eh young ’un? Come on then, follow me. There’s no one to get in our way today since they’re all upstairs getting chased round the valley by your mates, and good bloody riddance to the lot of them. Always swaggering about and gobbing off about how they’re the real miners when all they ever do is quarry out the rock, while us men practically live down here to keep the place going.’

  He took a torch from the wall and walked away up another passage, gesturing to the boys with his free hand.

  ‘Come on then, my lads, come and see where all the gold comes from.’

  Scaurus was enjoying his first cup of wine of the evening when Arminius put his head round the tent’s open flap and held out a message tablet. Scaurus frowned at his unexpected appearance.

  ‘Shouldn’t you be away training the boy Lupus in which end of a sword makes the nasty holes?’

  Arminius shrugged.

  ‘He seems to have found something more interesting to do, so I contented myself with a swift kick of Morban’s backside for letting him wander off without seeking permission. I’ll go looking for him again once you’ve got some food in front of you. Anyway, take this . . .’ He held up the message tablet. ‘One of the woman Theodora’s bruisers brought it to the camp entrance, and a soldier ran it up here. Apparently the messenger’s waiting for you.’