“The valley,” Varro said, “is a clear place to stop. There’s a village near the entrance with a good inn and we should reach it late this afternoon, allowing for a couple of breaks today to rest and eat. More important, there’s an Imperial way station about an hour’s ride up the valley from the village and given our position, I really don’t want to end up waylaid there. We can stay at the inn and eat there and set off several hours before dawn tomorrow. I want to use the darkness to get well clear of any watchful eyes.”
Salonius nodded. Whoever was behind all of this had one officer poisoned and a soldier stabbed. Caution would seem to be the order of the day.
Varro glanced across at his travelling companion and raised an eyebrow.
“Think we should stop and have a break for something to eat then?”
“Oh yes, Varro. I certainly do.”
The captain grinned. “Come on then.”
Stretching as much as his saddle allowed, Varro steered his horse off the road toward a small enclosure formed by a horseshoe of thick undergrowth and a grassy bank dotted with rabbit burrows. Dismounting in the little dell, they tied the horses to the sturdiest branch of a young elm growing on the edge of the undergrowth, and rummaged in the saddle bags for more of the food packed lovingly by Martis yesterday.
Varro grasped a bag of meat cuts and cheeses and half a loaf of bread and wandered over to a protruding boulder, drawing his belt knife and the bag of Scortius’ medicine as he went. Salonius dug deep into the bag, trying to locate a shy bag of fruit. As he worked his fingers between the tightly-packed contents of the bag, the tip of his tongue protruding from the corner of his mouth, he stopped sharply, ducking his head.
“What’s up?” Varro called from his seat a few yards away.
Salonius slowly raised his head and peered around the greenery of the small elm.
“Not sure.” He raised his hand to shelter his eyes from the glare of the sun. The land was flat for several miles and the early morning sun was burning off the night’s dew, creating an eery blanket of pale mist across the fields and streams. Shapes emerged before his eyes, at first glance riders or monsters, which quickly resolved into the shape of harmless trees or large bushes. He sighed and shook his head.
“Nothing. Seeing things. All this riding and no sleep, I suspect.”
By the time he turned, Varro was already standing beside him.
“Don’t be too quick to dismiss your instincts, Salonius. I had a feeling several hours ago that I saw someone keeping pace with us about half a mile away. If we’ve been followed all the way from Crow Hill, they’re at their most vulnerable today. Tonight they could get to the way-station and send messages if they needed. But at this point they’re still too far away from any Imperial outpost. I think we’d best be moving on as soon as we’ve had a bite to eat.”
The younger man frowned.
“D’you think we should try and make it out of the valley unseen and come round the other side of the hill?”
“No point,” Varro shook his head. “They obviously know we’re here and, unless they saw you duck down, our biggest advantage lies in them not knowing that we know about them.”
“Good point. On as though nothing’s out of the ordinary then.”
The two men sat in thoughtful silence for a few minutes munching on bread and cheese until Varro realised that his companion was watching him with interest.
“What?”
“I can’t understand it, sir.”
“Can’t understand what?” replied the captain patiently.
“Why anyone would want to kill you, I mean.” Salonius shuffled nervously on his rock, aware that he was treading dangerous ground. “The high command respects you, the other senior officers all like you and defer to you, you’ve got the most loyal junior officers in the army and your men love you, sir. I know the engineers are the most isolated and shunned unit in the army, and even the engineers respect you. So who would do this?”
Varro gave a weary laugh.
“If I knew that I don’t think we’d be in this position, but I’m afraid I’m probably just a casualty of something a lot bigger than me.”
“Your cousin’s message” nodded Salonius. “That soldier was killed to prevent the message reaching the fort and you were…“ He faltered for a moment. “What happened to you was for the same reason. So…”
“So whatever’s behind all this has something to do with Petrus and the Saravis Fork fort. And that means it’s possible that prefect Cristus is tied into this somehow, given his connections with Saravis Fork. But we can’t rule out anyone just because there’s no obvious connection. Whatever you say, I’ve made a few enemies in my time.”
Salonius sat back and folded away the remains of the cheese and meat.
“Well I suppose we’ll find out more when we get there.”
The two men stood and packed their saddle bags once more, keeping a surreptitious but keen eye out on the landscape as they did so. There was no further sign of movement and the early morning mist was beginning to burn off, leaving verdant green stretching away to the distant hills. Untethering the horses, they mounted and navigated their way out of the undergrowth, back onto the road.
The miles passed by quickly and quietly as the sun climbed steadily higher, picking up a warmth that had been absent the previous day. The sporadic birdsong gave way gradually to a day filled with chirruping, the hum of bees among the flowers by the road, the distant sounds of lowing cattle and other farm noises, and the steady crunch of their hooves on the gravel of the road. Conversation had been occasional and brief, both riders acutely aware of their surroundings and taking pains to notice any and all movement within sight while apparently remaining oblivious to any observer.
As the sun had passed its zenith and begun the slow descent toward the hills and the western ocean, the pair stopped at a ruined barn and consumed a few more chunks of bread and meat in a sheltered and defensible position. Once again finishing their meal and packing away the remains, Salonius was withdrawing his hand from the bag when Varro grasped his hand and pointed out of a window, the glass long gone, frame rotting and sill covered with ivy.
“Look there!”
Salonius followed the direction and spotted two figures on horseback. The riders were perhaps half a mile distant, visible where they’d broken cover of the few sparse trees. There could be little doubt of their unsavoury intentions, given the fact that they moved so swiftly and surreptitiously across open countryside parallel with the road. He squinted but could make out little detail other than their being covered with dark cloaks.
“They’re getting ahead of us. Perhaps they lost us?”
Varro shook his head. “They know exactly where we are. They’re just taking the opportunity while we’re busy to cover the open ground quickly so they can get back in cover and wait for us to pass.”
“Then we go on as normal?”
“Yes,” Varro nodded.
“What do you plan to do about them?” the young man asked as he tied the thongs on the saddle bag.
“I’ve been thinking about that. I think we’ll have to deal with them tonight. The village is a crossing point for the valley road. It’s the only bridge across the river and the water up there’s quite fast and deep. The riders could theoretically go round, but it’s a little precarious in places and not something you’d try in the dark.”
“So they’ll have to go through the village?” Salonius frowned.
“Likely. If it were still light they could get ahead round the hillside and off to the Imperial outpost, but then they’d lose track of us, so I think they’ll stay within sight. That means we need to slow down slightly. I want to reach the inn as it gets dark, so that they’re forced to either cross the bridge where we can see them or camp down somewhere this side of the village.”
The young man smiled.
“And whatever they do, we’ll know where they are.”
Varro nodded.
“But toni
ght I think we’ll probably have to take care of them. I want to get a closer look at who we’re dealing with here.”
The two mounted up once more and rode on toward the village nestled between steep, protective hillsides and pierced by a swift young river pouring down from the mountains.
Their pace slowed barely noticeably, and Varro and Salonius first caught sight of the village as the last arc of the sun disappeared over the valley side, plunging the floor into gloom. The valley was surprisingly narrow at this point, two rocky spurs jutting out from the hills and almost meeting like pincers. In the gap lay strewn a collection of buildings, mostly constructed in northern Imperial style with a dark grey stone base reaching as high as the windows, surmounted by timber uppers. Some houses consisted of only a single floor, that being the favoured style of many of the northern peoples, but here and there some buildings also had an upper floor like the townhouses and apartment blocks of the more southern Imperial cities. Through the centre of the village flowed the river, not wide, but deep and fast, filling the valley with a background roar.
Salonius took the opportunity to cast a glance behind him but saw no sign of their pursuers. In fact they’d not seen them for several hours now, and the young soldier was beginning to worry they’d gone ahead through the village already.
There were few signs of life as they approached the outermost buildings. These were farms, the continual sound of roaring water now joined with the bleating of sheep and the squawking of chickens in their enclosure. The two men rode slowly across the narrow stone bridge and squinted ahead. Darkness had descended swiftly since the sun set and the grey stone and dark oak constructions loomed as deeper shadows within the gloom. A few houses showed signs of flickering lights within. Tallow candles, Salonius thought. Oil was expensive this far north and a poor hill-farming village would be unlikely to have a regular supply.
The inn stood overlooking the central space of the village, a green with a constantly flowing spring from a boulder pile that fed a small stone trough before trickling down a runnel and into the river. Salonius smiled appreciatively as he took in the welcoming sight of a large, well lit double storey building. The door was of the stable variety, separated into upper and lower panels. The lower was latched shut; the upper standing open and casting a welcoming yellow glow onto the dark ground outside.
Wordlessly the two men dismounted and led their horses to the door. Varro handed the reins to his companion and went inside, disappearing from view for a couple of minutes as he approached the bar. Salonius stood quietly holding the reins, taking the opportunity to look around in a bored fashion and observe his surroundings. The bridge was narrow and of stone. There was little hope of any rider crossing it quietly, so Varro was right. Unless their pursuers had taken the chance to get ahead this afternoon, they would have to stay in the valley for the night, presumably close enough to be able to keep an eye on the village and their quarry. So long as he and Varro alternated sleep they could watch the bridge easily from the inn. He smiled.
“Over here!” Varro’s voice called from around the side of the building.
Salonius led the horses at a walk around the building and to the stables where Varro waited with a boy in an apron. The stable hand reached up and took the reins, while the two guests collected their various bags and important belongings from the saddles, after which he led the horses to their accommodation for the night. Varro and Salonius watched him disappear, noting where their mounts would be stabled, and then strode in through the side door, into the inn. Varro stopped by the entrance and spoke to his companion in a hushed voice.
“I’ve arranged a room at the other side of the inn; the direction we entered the village. I’ll explain when we’re up there.”
The two swiftly passed through the warm, welcoming bar and trotted lightly up the stairs to the rear. At the end of the corridor, Varro stopped and fumbled with a key until the lock released with a click and the door swung open. Salonius crossed the room and dropped the bag on the floor before approaching the window and peering around the side of the frame into the darkness beyond.
The window looked out over the bridge and into the distance down the valley. The advantages of the view were clear. Varro joined him and pointed at an angle down the alley at the inn’s side. Salonius peered into the shadowy space and noted the low wooden roof of an outhouse only a few feet away: an easy exit without alerting any of the inn’s patrons. He smiled.
“For an unnoticed start in the morning?”
Varro nodded and dropped his kit next to the other bag.
“That and more. As soon as we’re settled, we’re going out to find our friends and see what they’re up to.”
The moon was high but partially obscured by scudding clouds as Varro and Salonius slid the table bearing their dirtied dinner plates away from the window and the captain climbed through, surprisingly nimbly, Salonius thought, given both his age and his current state of health. As the younger man approached the window ready to follow suit, he saw Varro swing from the sill and land with a soft thud on the gently-sloping insulated wooden roof of the outhouse.
Salonius climbed through and swung across to the roof quietly and dextrously, landing in a crouch. He glanced down into the alley to see that Varro had dropped lightly to the dirt floor. Following, the young soldier joined him in the shadowy street. Quickly, the pair dusted themselves off and unwrapped the linen scarves they’d bound around the hilts of their swords to prevent unnecessary noise during the descent.
“Are we taking the horses?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.
“No,” Varro replied squaring his shoulders. “Too noisy. And they’ll be near enough to see the inn, so they can’t be far beyond that farm. Follow me.”
Salonius nodded and the two moved softly to the rear of the inn. Ducking around the back of the next house they could see a short alleyway that led to a patch of darkness from which came the sounds of rushing water. Taking a deep breath, Varro jogged quietly down the alley and to the bank of the river. Clearly too far to jump and too fast to wade or swim, the only crossing point would still be the bridge. Turning the corner once more, they made their way along the river bank towards the bridge.
“Do you think they’ll be watching it?” Salonius whispered as they came to a halt a few yards away in the shadow of the last building.
“Definitely. Certainly one of them will be awake.”
“So what’s the plan?” the young man queried.
“We’ve a choice. Least visible route is to climb along the outside.” He pointed to a very narrow lip where the tile bonding layer jutted out of the grey stone. “It’ll be dangerous, ‘coz there’s not much of a lip and it’s bound to be slippery. The alternative is we take the chance and run across.”
“And hope they’re looking away at that point? Bit risky.”
“The side it is, then” agreed Varro.
Another deep breath in preparation and the captain darted across the small space to the bridge, ducking below the parapet and grasping the capstones tightly. With a last glance back at Salonius, Varro began to shuffle slowly along the side of the bridge with gently scraping noises that were almost completely drowned out by the rushing water.
The young man watched with some trepidation, his breath held and his heart pounding in his chest. He almost jumped out into the open as he saw Varro’s foot slip on the narrow lip and for a heart-stopping moment the man hung above the torrent by his fingertips before regaining his hold and shuffling along to the safety of the far bank. As he dropped silently into the long grass and climbed up the bank, he waved across to Salonius.
The young soldier ducked across the gap and dropped down the bank, grasping the top of the wall. With a grunt, he began to pull himself across, relying mostly on the strength of his arms and using the tips of his toes on the ledge mainly for balance. In what felt like hours, yet was really only moments, he reached the far bank and dropped gratefully to the grass next to Varro. The older man slapped him quie
tly and encouragingly on the shoulder and paused long enough for the pair of them to get their breath back.
With a deep breath, he gestured to Salonius to follow and moved along the outer wall of the farm.
“We’ll head round the back and out of the village that way. They’ll be concentrating on the inn, the bridge and the road, so we should be safe.”
Salonius nodded and joined the captain, slowly creeping along the wall. Somewhere nearby a dog barked and both men stopped for a tense moment before moving on as quietly as possible. A few minutes later they had rounded the back of the farm and were picking their way between a hen run and a rickety wooden shed with slats missing. Passing the last of the net fencing, they reached a gooseberry bush that provided the last cover before open ground.
The two men stopped and scanned their surroundings. Varro turned to face his young companion.
“If you were wanting somewhere to camp down unnoticed and get a good view of the bridge and the inn, where would you be?”
Salonius squinted into the darkness. The valley side was a steep grassy slope, pockmarked with rabbit warrens and punctuated with small rocks. Where the slope began to flatten out was a collection of large boulders that would be perfect were it not for the view was too restrictive to be of use. A wide area of open grass used for grazing goats would offer no protection. Close to the road was a small copse. It would be uncomfortable to camp in, certainly, but offered both cover and a clear view. Across the road much the same land stretched away to the bare slope of the valley side. A messy wooden structure stood in the open ground amid a wide circle of churned mud. He couldn’t see it from here, but remembered passing it on the way into the village. A cow byre.
“Two possible locations, sir” the young man frowned. “The copse and the shed.”
Ironroot (Tales of the Empire) Page 12