Fortress of Spears

by Anthony Riches

  ‘Name?’

  The soldier dragged in a breath before he answered.

  ‘Maximus …’ He held Rapax’s eye as the praetorian stared grimly at him. ‘… Centurion.’

  ‘I think I’ll just call you Smartarse for the time being. Keep the manners and you may get out of here today. Why did you kill the other man?’

  ‘He took the piss out of my century for getting cut to ribbons by the blue-noses when some idiot sent us south without any support, then pulled a blade when I gave him a spanking. So I took it off him and stuck it in his neck.’

  Rapax nodded, calculating.

  ‘And do you want to be freed, or would you rather rot here until your legatus comes back to hear your story? At which point he’ll almost certainly order whatever there is left of your tent party to beat you to death for your crime. Something they’ll be happy enough to do if they’ve seen battle while you’ve been tossing it off back here.’

  The prisoner was clearly unconvinced.

  ‘And in return, I have to do what? At least here I’m not risking a barbarian spear in my guts.’

  ‘And in return, Legionary Smartarse, you have to join my party, and do whatever I tell you to do, whenever and wherever that may be. As it happens, we’re going north, not south, north of the Wall to hunt for a fugitive from justice. I hear tell the rebellion north of the Wall is over, so you’ll probably be safer out there than sat in here waiting for the Brigantes to break in and make you their new girlfriend. Choose now.’

  He turned away, looking at the rest of the prisoners. Maximus stared at his back for a moment before speaking.

  ‘All right.’

  ‘All right what, Smartarse? Answer carefully, or I’ll leave you here with the skin hanging off your back.’

  ‘Sorry. Centurion. I’d like the chance to join your party.’

  ‘Good choice. Let’s have Smartarse here out of these irons, Centurion, he’s got some soldiering to do.’ He turned away, focusing on the next man in the line. ‘Now, what else do we have here …?’

  The centurion of the guard nodded to his deputy, who busied himself releasing the prisoner from his shackles, then stepped forward and tapped each man’s chest with his vine stick.

  ‘Thief, thief, attempted murder … not very successfully from the look of him … rapist, and my special favourite, sleeping on guard.’

  Rapax stopped at the rapist.

  ‘Attempted murder doesn’t look like he could pick a successful fight with my old mother, never mind collar a traitor. I don’t like thieves, and the only thing I like less than a thief is the sort of weak-chinned fool that lets his mates down by falling asleep on duty. Eh, Sleepy? Your mates will make very short work of you when they’re given the chance, and good luck to them.’ He pointed at the rapist.’ I’ll take this one, though.’

  The centurion of the guard raised an eyebrow.

  ‘I suppose you know what you’re doing, but he’s a nasty case. Put it to a woman old enough to be his grandmother by force and then killed her, and nobody would have been any the wiser as to who the sick bastard that did it was if his good-luck amulet hadn’t been found by the body. Even now he keeps denying it. Shut it!’

  Having opened his mouth to contest the centurion’s story, the rapist closed it again, his face a picture of misery.

  ‘See, all he does is piss and moan about how it wasn’t him, despite the fact that he left the evidence and has no alibi worth a toss. You’re sure you want him?’

  Rapax smiled back at him imperturbably.

  ‘Yes, I think I’ll be able to find a use for him. We’ll have to call him Granny Fucker.’ He beckoned one of his men forward, indicating the two reprieved prisoners. ‘Take Smartarse and Granny Fucker to the stores and get them kitted up. Make sure they look like soldiers, and not the ragged-arsed jailbirds they so clearly are. And if the stores officer gives you any trouble, just give him the usual “you really don’t want to meet my centurion and his mate the corn officer” speech. Meet me at the north gate in an hour. And now, Varius Excingus, we’d best go and see how our wounded are doing.’

  In the fort’s hospital they found a single doctor on duty, a woman who seemed utterly untroubled by their combination of muscle and bluntly wielded power.

  ‘I can’t release either of your wounded, Centurion, because neither of them is in any condition to be released. You can see them now, if you like, but they’ll all need at least ten days’ rest if their wounds are to heal cleanly. Now if you’ll excuse me …’

  The two men exchanged glances. Excingus raised an eyebrow at the doctor’s departing back, nudging his comrade in the ribs.

  ‘Just the way you like ’em, eh? High spirited and ripe for breaking in?’

  The praetorian shook his head with a wry expression, and waved a dismissive hand.

  ‘Not that one. There’d be a dozen nearly recovered soldiers in our faces if I so much as laid a finger on her. She’d be more trouble than she could ever be worth.’

  His partner nodded sagely.

  ‘I’m sure you’re right. You’d better go and have a few words with your men, then, hadn’t you? Tell them we’ll collect them on the way south once we’ve dealt with the Aquila boy. I’ll go and do some research on the quality of the wine in the officers’ mess.’

  Rapax waved him away in mock disgust and strolled down the hospital building’s narrow corridor, peering into each small ward in turn until he saw a face he recognised. The guardsman in question smiled wanly at his centurion, saluting despite the fact that he was sitting in bed with heavy bandages swathing his right thigh. The centurion looked around the four beds, finding two of them vacant and the last one inhabited by a heavyset bearded man who was fast asleep, a thin line of drool staining his pillow. Rapax squatted by his soldier’s bed, keeping his voice low to avoid waking the sleeping man.

  ‘How are you, then, my lad? Got the arrow out in one piece, did they?’

  The guardsman nodded, holding up the iron arrowhead that had been buried deep in the muscle of his thigh earlier that day.

  ‘Nice job she made of it, gave me some sort of honey mixture and I hardly felt a thing. Hurts a lot now, though …’ He bent closer to the centurion, beckoning with his hand to bring his officer’s head closer to his mouth, whispering despite the lack of anyone else in the room to hear his words. ‘There’s some right chatty lads in here with us. Tungrians. Wounded at some big fight in the hills a few days ago, just starting to get their wits back about them and happy to talk the day away, if a man’s willing to listen.’ Rapax nodded silently. Having enough intelligence to know when to keep his mouth shut had been part of the reason he had recruited the wounded guardsman in the first place. ‘Anyway, it seems that the lady doctor is a very close friend of one of their centurions and has been all summer, ever since he arrived from Rome. A centurion by the name of Corvus.’

  Rapax raised an eyebrow in appreciation of the news, patting his man on the shoulder.

  ‘Very good work. I’ll make a point of coming back for you once we’ve found this “Corvus” and put him where he belongs. For now you just concentrate on getting that wound healed. You’re no use to me if you’re not fit for battle.’

  The praetorian nodded proudly, happy to have his officer’s favour.

  ‘I heard you were having a look at their prisoners. Found anyone worth recruiting?’

  The centurion shrugged.

  ‘I might have, it’s too early to tell. There’s one big lad that might have the makings, if I can be sure he’ll do what he’s told. He’s quick enough with a blade from the sound of it …’

  ‘And you’ll have fun finding out?’

  Rapax met his man’s knowing look with a slight smile.

  ‘Don’t I always?’

  Marcus and Arminius rode south at a brisk trot once they were out of sight of Alauna’s walls, and able to use the road again. After an hour’s riding they reached the spot where they had taken lunch, and Marcus reined his horse in, stru
ck by a sudden impulse.

  ‘Let’s ride over to the spot where we captured Lugos.’

  Arminius raised an eyebrow.

  ‘You have a soft spot for the man, it seems.’

  ‘I respect the man’s courage …’

  The barbarian shrugged his agreement, and the pair turned their horses off the road and cantered out to the copse where they had destroyed the desperate Selgovae remnant earlier that day. After fifteen minutes’ riding into the late afternoon sun’s glare Marcus spotted the lone warrior, and altered his horse’s direction slightly.

  ‘There he is. He doesn’t seem to have moved since we left him, though …’

  Lugos looked up as the riders cantered up to where he stood, then returned his gaze to the rough grave he had dug for his brother in the intervening period. Marcus and Arminius dismounted and stood facing him in silence, both men unwilling to break the grieving warrior’s intent focus on his brother’s last resting place.

  ‘Was younger brother. Was five summers younger. No family left now …’ Marcus watched in grim silence as a single tear ran down the barbarian’s cheek. ‘Nothing left now. Death come soon.’

  Arminius snorted, shaking his head.

  ‘Very true. There are several thousand soldiers not far away over there …’ He pointed at the setting sun. ‘… any one of whom will be delighted to claim your head, but that’s only if you get lucky. Worse than that, they might not kill you, they might just take a big lad like you for a slave. If you stay here you’re likely to end up cutting down trees or digging for silver on starvation rations for the rest of your life.’

  Marcus stepped round the grave’s earth mound and stood face to face with the grieving warrior.

  ‘He’s right. If you stay here you will end up in a work gang, that or you’ll be transported so far from your homeland that this place will be no more than a distant memory for the rest of your days. Come with us. We have other men like you serving with us, men who have been betrayed by Calgus. We can find a place for you, I’m sure of it.’

  Lugos lifted his head and looked at the Roman with disbelief.

  ‘Fight for Rome?’

  Marcus shook his head.

  ‘No, for yourself, and for others like you. We have one more job to do, before the winter sets in. We have to free the Dinpaladyr from Calgus’s men.’

  ‘Men like Harn?’

  ‘Yes.’

  The barbarian was silent for a long moment.

  ‘And Alauna? Tell you, Harn insult goddess. You fight for Alauna?’

  Arminius laughed again, a deep chuckle this time.

  ‘Already he’s bargaining with you. I like this man!’

  Marcus smiled wryly at the warrior, raising an eyebrow.

  ‘I expect my tribune is going to want to deal with Harn and his men before we march north. Although just how we’re going to get inside those walls is beyond me.’

  To his surprise, Lugos snorted derisively.

  ‘You forget lesson from Carvetii fort. Get inside not the problem.’

  Tribune Licinius stood on the slopes of the hill overlooking the former Roman fortress of Three Mountains, his horse happily cropping the lush grass while he gazed down at the abandoned fort below.

  ‘The buildings have all been burned out all right, but the walls still look stout enough. I suppose Calgus was in too much of a hurry to get south to do anything other than torch the place and keep moving, which has played well enough for him now that he’s forced to fall back on …’

  He stopped in mid-sentence, pointing down at a huddle of men toiling at something outside the fort’s walls.

  ‘You’ve got better eyes than me. What in Hades do you think they’re doing?’

  The decurion at his side squinted down at the warriors on the flat ground five hundred feet below them.

  ‘It looks like they’re … digging? Yes, they’re definitely trying to unearth something. There, that group are dragging something up from their pit. It looks like … like …’

  ‘Like a sack full of salted meat, perhaps?’ Licinius’s voice was rich with irony. The decurion looked round at him, uncertain of his meaning. ‘And there was me thinking that Calgus had met his match, that he’d lost his edge in the face of our overwhelming force. Just one day later I discover that not only does he have enough wits left about him to guide a Venicone warband clean out of the trap we’ve laid for them, but he also had the foresight not very long ago to have food stored here, just in case he was forced to retreat this way. King Drust had best be very careful that he hasn’t got a snake by the tail.’

  Rapax strolled up to the north gate to find his man waiting with the two released prisoners, both men fully equipped with arms and armour and sporting pensive looks.

  ‘Well, well, Smartarse and Granny Fucker, don’t you both look pretty.’ He nodded to the guardsman. ‘Very good. The stores didn’t give you any problems, then?’

  The guardsman grimaced, shaking his head dismissively.

  ‘If you’ve met one storeman, you’ve met them all. A touch of the whip always has them running.’

  Rapax smiled knowingly.

  ‘Good, well done. Right, you two, let’s go for a little walk, shall we?’

  He led the three men through the gate, ignoring the surprised looks from the soldiers on guard at the sight of such a small party walking out on to what was, for the time being, tribal ground, and opened out his stride once the wicket gate was closed behind them.

  ‘Come along, then, the pair of you, let’s see how fit you are.’

  Half an hour later, marching to the east after the long climb from Noisy Valley to meet the military road that ran along the line of the Wall, and with both men panting horribly under the unaccustomed load of their weapons and armour, he allowed their pace to fall back to a normal march, enjoying the burning sensation in his calves after so long without proper exercise.

  ‘Feeling a bit tired, are we, gentlemen? Perhaps we ought to take a breather. Follow me!’ He led them away from the road, and through the trees until he found a small clearing that would suit his purpose perfectly. ‘Let’s stop here for a little while, shall we? Relax. Take the load off your feet. There’s no need for ceremony now, you’ve shown that you can drive along at the forced march with a full load, so just take it easy for a moment or two.’

  He watched the two soldiers out of the corner of his eye as they slumped to the ground, both allowing their shields and helmets to lie on the grass, while the guardsman stayed on his feet and with a hand on his spear, knowing what was coming. The rapist lay back on the ground, dragging his breath in noisily with his eyes closed, while the murderer sat with his back against a fallen tree and his eyes searching the clearing, clearly equally exhausted but retaining enough awareness of his surroundings to have a curious eye on the centurion stood before him.

  ‘So, soldiers, a rude reintroduction to the military pace, eh? Feeling nicely exercised, are we? Ready for your next test?’

  The murderer’s eyes narrowed, while his fellow convict lifted his head slightly to look up at the officer. Rapax smiled broadly, enjoying himself for the first time in several days.

  ‘Your next test, gentlemen, is very simple. It is a test of your stamina, your skill at arms, but most of all it is a test of how well you listen and how well you respond to orders. The instructions for the test are very simple, but you’re only going to hear them once so fucking listen!’ The murderer tensed his body, ready to jump to his feet, while the rapist propped himself up on his elbows, looking puzzled at the sudden change in Rapax’s demeanour.

  ‘I’ve brought you both here for a reason, you maggots. For your next test there is only one instruction, and that is that very soon one of you is going to be the last man standing, while the other one is going to be a bleeding corpse. Go to it!’

  He stepped back from them, watching the comprehension forming on the rapist’s face even as the murderer pulled the sword from his belt and threw himself full length across th
e clearing to punch the blade through his rival’s armour, and deep into his guts. He smiled quietly with the doomed man’s first scream of outraged agony, watching as the victorious soldier ripped the blade free and thrust it into the rapist’s throat to finish him off, a thick stream of blood bubbling in the dying man’s windpipe. The victor stood up and turned to face him, his face fixed in the snarl that he had worn from the second that the meaning of Rapax’s instructions had sunk into his brain. The centurion stepped forward into sword-reach without a hint of concern and took the bloody weapon out of his hands, patting him on his blood-spattered cheek.

  ‘Good boy! Maximus, wasn’t it? I think you’re going to be rather good at this.’

  Calgus smiled quietly to himself as the first load of meat was carried in through the shattered fort’s empty gate arches. Drust was standing alongside him, with a look on his face that combined irritation and relief.

  ‘Well, Drust, there’s my end of the bargain satisfied. I took the cavalry off your back for long enough to get into the shelter of these walls without any further attacks, I led you to the one place for fifty miles where you can hold off an army, never mind a few hundred tired horsemen, and I’ve provided you with enough meat to put your men back on their feet ready to deal with anything those fools can throw at you tomorrow. I trust I can now depend on you to keep to your word, and that I’ll be safe with your tribe for as long as I seek shelter with you?’

  The Venicone leader nodded his assent, watching as his men lugged their heavy burdens into the fort and dropped them in front of the waiting warriors.

  ‘You’ll have a place with us for as long as you wish, provided you keep yourself to yourself. If I get any hint that you’re making the slightest attempt to undermine me, however, I’ll have you nailed up for the Romans to find when we leave this place. Do we have an understanding?’

  Calgus nodded slowly.

  ‘Yes, Drust, I think we understand each other perfectly. And when will we be leaving?’

  The Venicone king looked about him, as if taking stock of the fort’s stout stone walls.