Enemies of the Empire

by Rosemary Rowe

  He was very still. ‘And Thullero?’

  ‘He isn’t hurt, just taken by surprise. But – oh, forgive me, Kiminiros – he’s gone off after them!’

  Chapter Sixteen

  For a moment we all remained frozen where we were, startled into immobility by this turn of events. The optio was first to spring to life. He set the remnants of his drink aside and jumped to his feet, suddenly all military efficiency.

  ‘We must alert our escort. We have mounted soldiers with us, after all. They can track these rebellious rascals down – and bring them back to justice. Never fear, Silurian, the thieves will not get far. And we will bring your Thullero back to you.’

  The old man had half risen to his feet. ‘Subulcus will show you where the horse field is.’ He sounded as if he were half dazed with shock.

  ‘Then I will go and see to it at once.’ The optio turned to Marcus. ‘With your permission, Excellence?’ He scarcely waited for my patron to agree before he left the room, and we heard the clatter of his hobnails as he ran towards the gate.

  Marcus was muttering vaguely to himself. He was obviously shaken. ‘Another raid?’ he said aloud. ‘Great Minerva! So close! And with all our soldiers in the forest, too. The rebels must have seen us. They were obviously hiding out nearby if they planned to raid this farm. The scoundrels get more daring by the day.’ He swallowed what was in his cup – looked pained, as if he had forgotten it was mead – and rose slowly to his feet. He looked at me. ‘It’s a wonder that they did not ambush us.’

  Nyros was still looking very strained but he spoke with a courteous dignity. ‘Perhaps it is their intention to do that next. After all, they have more horses now – that will make it easier for them to strike. Of course, you have an escort . . . Why, what is it, child?’ This last to the girl who had brought in the message, who had thrown herself down on the bench beside the wall and was now sobbing silently.

  She looked up at his words. ‘The horses,’ she managed, through her tears. ‘And Thullero. Will he . . . will he be safe?’

  ‘We will have to pray so,’ he returned. ‘I shall make a special offering this evening at the sacred—’ I was sure that he was going to name the oak, but he recalled himself in time. He glanced at Marcus. ‘. . . at the scared shrine. As for the horses . . .’ He shook his head. ‘It will take more than prayers and sacrifice to replace those, I think.’

  I looked at him with sudden sympathy. His voice had been a little less than steady as he spoke and it was clear that he was struggling with some deep inner emotion, though he contrived to keep his face expressionless. Obviously the mastery of feelings was a manly virtue here – even the girl had seemed ashamed to weep. Yet this raid would surely be a dreadful loss to them. We Celts have always valued horses above all things, and if I had lost a single one I should have wept. To lose all the animals one had was unimaginable.

  The old man sighed. He turned to Marcus. ‘If I may make the suggestion, citizens, I know you wish to speak to Thullero, but it might be wiser if you did not wait. Safer for you, if these raiders know you’re here, and – forgive me – safer for my household too.’

  My patron looked uneasy. ‘You may well be right. This is no place to linger in. And it is getting late. Better if we rejoin our escort and go on, if we propose to get to Isca before dark.’

  ‘That is a long journey. You should eat. Are you sure I can’t offer you some venison before you go?’ Nyros might be troubled and wish that we would leave, but we were guests beneath his roof and traditional hospitality demanded that he made the offer all the same.

  My patron shook his head. I could see him calculating the risk now that some of our escort had been sent off in pursuit of the horse-thieves. ‘Safer if we make a move, I think. We do not have our mounted outriders, but the rest of our group will be sufficient guard, and I still have my own mounted bodyguard. Doubtless all our marching troops are down in the valley by the spring, Libertus?’ I nodded. They would have been taking advantage of the opportunity to rest, enjoying their bread and water at the well, until this unexpected news broke. ‘Tell the optio to bring them up and make them ready to move on again.’

  Nyros must have been relieved at this proof that we proposed to leave, though he tried to hide it. ‘Don’t take unnecessary risks. You, or some member of your retinue, would be a considerable prize, if they could capture you. Or even . . .’ Or even kill you, was what he did not say.

  I glimpsed the look on Marcus’s face and knew that, like me, he had heard the stories of what had happened to the legionary soldiers who had been set upon and killed in these woods on previous occasions: their heads were cut off and stuck triumphantly on poles, for men to scoff at as they passed. That in itself was an unpleasant thought, but I suddenly remembered what Cupidus had said about his ancestors, when they had fallen into the hands of tribesmen hereabouts – something about having your private parts cut off and stuffed into your mouth. I felt myself grow pale. No wonder Nyros spoke about ‘atrocities’.

  Marcus’s voice cut across my thoughts. ‘Well, are you going, Libertus?’

  ‘As you command, Excellence,’ I blurted, and hurried from the room, blinking in the sudden light as I made my way towards the gate. I had been prepared to go right over to the spring to fetch the troops, but to my surprise I found that the optio had already brought them back and was getting them lined them up outside the palisade. He greeted me with a look of self-satisfaction on his face.

  ‘I thought His Excellence would want us very soon. Half the cavalry have gone with Subulcus – apparently the field where the horses were is some little way away, behind the hill, on the borders of the forest over there.’ He gestured vaguely. ‘The rebels will have driven the animals into the trees – I think we can certainly assume that.’

  I nodded, to show I understood. It seemed a very reasonable deduction to have made. ‘They won’t want to use the open road where they might be seen, and they’ve probably got a hide-out in the forest anyway – that seems to be the way they operate.’

  It was his turn to nod. ‘If we could find that hiding place we would strike a real blow against these ambushes.’ He leaned towards me confidentially. ‘I’ve sent five of our horsemen back the way we came, to try to cut the raiders off the other way – or follow them back to their secret camp if possible. I’m hoping they might lead us to the spot.’ He gave me a little sidewise smile. ‘So you can report back to your patron that we’re formed up to leave – and perhaps you’d also tell him what I’ve done. Put in a word for me? I think I made a bad impression early on.’

  ‘Of course I will,’ I said, but when I got back to the roundhouse there was no opportunity. Marcus was already on his feet and waiting impatiently for me.

  ‘Ah, there you are!’ he said, as if my whereabouts had been a mystery, and far from being unexpectedly quick about my errand I had been deliberately dallying.

  ‘The optio has drawn up the men, and is waiting for you outside the palisade,’ I reported. ‘And he has sent the horsemen . . .’

  ‘Never mind all that,’ my patron said. ‘It’s time we made a move. The sun is getting low, and we have many miles to go. There is no time to be lost. It was ill-judged of me to agree to deviate from the path and spend all this time over a foolish servant and some clothes.’

  ‘And a Roman messenger,’ I said, trying to mollify his mood.

  He tapped his baton on his palm impatiently. ‘We should have left that to the mansio, and to the garrison at Isca. We have put ourselves in danger, and we’re not yet out of it. You have no notion what these rebels sometimes do to people they capture – especially those they want to make examples of. Nyros has just been telling me. Some of their customs make your blood run cold.’

  I glanced at Nyros, who was standing by the fire. One of the women had brought in a length of broad plaid cloth, like a cloak, and he had wrapped himself in it and was permitting the girl to fasten it on one shoulder with a clasp – a lovely thing of silver, shaped like a
sinuous dog swallowing its tail. He acknowledged my admiration with a smile.

  ‘I will come with you to the gate. Then I must go out and see the damage for myself.’

  I looked at him. A brave man, but – at his age – to walk out to the furthest field alone, when there were hostile raiders in the area? To face his losses, and who knows what dangers too? I said, ‘Have you no young men on the farm who could accompany you?’ In fact, when I came to think of it, I had not seen a single male, except for Nyros and Subulcus, since I arrived.

  The old man man gave a wistful smile. ‘Alas, not any more. At one time, this farmstead would have been crowded with masculinity – sons, cousins, nephews, brothers, even grandsons, possibly. Then there were the raids I told you of – we lost the cream of our youth, and since then the others are not anxious to stay here on the farm. Even recently there was a period when I would have had a dozen men at my command to chase and find our horses – now it’s only Thullero, and even he is not here all the time.’

  ‘He isn’t?’ This was new information, and unexpected too.

  Nyros shook his head. ‘Like the others, he is often in the town, now that travel is so much easier on the roads. That is where trade and money are, he says – but it leaves the farm work to the old, the children and the womenfolk. Obviously we have our land-slaves, too, but we are still vulnerable to our enemies. Thullero calls it progress, but I’m not so sure.’ He sighed. ‘Modern life is changing everything – not always for the better, it seems to me. Sometimes I think that the old ways were best.’

  Marcus had been listening impatiently to all this, tapping that warning baton all the time. ‘We thank you, Silurian, for your hospitality, in the name of Jupiter, Best and Brightest, and on behalf of all the Roman state,’ he said, hurrying over the formalities and signalling to me with his eyes that it was time to leave. ‘Also, we are sorry for your loss, and if you find the culprits we will see that they are punished as severely as the law permits. Now, Libertus, if you’d care to lead the way?’

  I glanced at Nyros. For me to do anything of the kind was impolite. He had volunteered to show us out and, since he was a tribal elder, tradition demanded that I should follow him. Fortunately the girl had now stopped fidgeting with his clasp, and he straightened up and strode towards the door, saying as he did so, ‘If you take the farm track veering to the right, it will bring you quickly to the military road.’ He unlatched the gate for us to pass through, and stopped to watch us go.

  The troops fell in around us and we marched away, taking the route which had been pointed out to us. I looked back at Nyros. The last I saw of him, he was standing inside the palisade with one hand raised in a gesture of salute: then, as we turned the corner of the path, he was lost to sight behind the trees and we were in the hostile forest once again.

  If it had seemed threatening before, it was now twenty times as bad. The faces of all the men were set and strained and no one said a word. We just marched grimly down the path – Marcus, the optio, Regulus and I right in the centre of the moving guards, for all the world like prisoners in a victory parade. The pace was punishing, and at every rustle in the woods I felt all my few remaining hairs stand upright on my head, knowing that any clump of trees might conceal an ambush and, therefore, that every step might be my last.

  Nyros’s directions had been accurate. We did soon meet the road, and the lightening of the tension was almost physical. Even the optio visibly relaxed: the cohort spread out a little on the road and the whole company moved more easily, with proper paving stones beneath our feet.

  We had not gone very far in this new optimistic mood, however, before Regulus stopped suddenly and raised a hand. ‘Listen!’

  The phalanx came to a halt, and we strained our ears. At first, I could hear nothing but the wind among the trees, and then I caught the sound that he had heard. Hoofbeats, faint at first but growing louder all the time.

  Regulus was still listening with a furrowed brow. ‘Horsemen,’ he said briefly. ‘Not a chariot or cart. No sound of creaking wheels or harness chains.’ He frowned with concentration. ‘Four or five horsemen, I should say, at least. Skilful riders, judging from their speed. And coming this way – very quickly too.’

  The soldiers knew their business. Almost before I had time to take in what was happening, they had placed themselves in readiness: not the simple fence of shields that we’d seen earlier, but a staggered column bristling with swords, the front men kneeling down behind their shields, ready to thrust up and disembowel any passing horse, while their colleagues stood ready to strike down the riders as they galloped past.

  ‘Get down,’ the optio shouted, shooing Marcus and me into the oaks which flanked the road. It was an unceremonious order to a man of rank. Marcus showed signs of protest, but then changed his mind and dived after me into the cover of the trees. This was no time for preserving dignity. The riders were already thundering round the bend.

  Chapter Seventeen

  There was a moment of complete confusion. We were still sheltering within the woods, and it was difficult for us to see, but we were aware of shouts and oaths and clattering hooves. There was a shrill whinny, the clang of metal sword on shield, a swirl of dust and thuds, and then – as if by magic – all this faded into silence. There was an unearthly calm.

  Marcus looked at me, and I at him. He was not at his most imposing, sitting on the ground with bits of fallen oak leaves in his hair, but he was still my patron and it was obvious what he expected me to do.

  I ventured out from underneath the overhanging boughs which had provided us with our hiding place and saw that the riders had drawn up short and were dismounting from their animals. Even at first glance I could see that they were in Roman uniform and obviously the optio had called off the defensive manoeuvre. He was striding forward down the path to talk to the newcomers, and our kneeling guards were climbing slowly to their feet again. Regulus was among them, and I caught his eye.

  ‘Some of our own outriders, by the look of it,’ he said sheepishly, coming to assist me back onto the road. ‘That was almost a catastrophe – they were coming at us very fast. If the optio had not realised who they were and bellowed to them in the nick of time, they would have charged us and we’d have had to cut them down. There would have been some bloodshed, if we had. There’s one cavalryman wounded, as it is.’

  He nodded to the far side of the road, where one rider – obviously unhorsed – was sitting on the margin of the track, his head between his knees. His arm-guard was unbuckled and the sleeve of his tunic rolled back to the neck. He was bleeding heavily from a sword-thrust in his arm. No one was paying much attention to his plight, although one of the junior officers was attempting to round up the horse, which was sidling down the roadway with its bridle loose and every evidence of acute alarm.

  ‘Will the rider be all right?’ I said. It looked very nasty to me.

  Regulus nodded. ‘It’s a flesh wound only. You see a lot of those. He’s lost a lot of blood, of course, but nothing vital’s hurt. He is more shaken than anything. See, one of his comrades has gone to help him now. He should have some herbs that he can pack it with, and some that he can chew to dull the pain.’

  Sure enough, the rider was sitting up again and his companion was supporting him, while taking a small packet of something from a bag round his neck. He shook a little out, put it in his own mouth and chewed it into a wad before binding the result against the cut. Only then did he offer the wounded man a pinch of herbs to chew.

  Regulus was watching dispassionately. It was obviously quite routine to him. ‘He should be all right. We’ll get him to a marching-camp and let the army doctor take a look at him, if necessary. But I expect he’ll soon be fit to ride again – though he may have to work one-handed for a bit.’ He was so matter-of-fact that I was not surprised to hear him add, ‘I am a bit worried about that animal of his – it has had a nasty stumble and a fright, and it’s looking very skittish. Someone could easily get hurt. I’ll go and
lend a hand.’ And off he went, to help to catch the horse.

  I turned back to Marcus, who was by now emerging from the trees, looking more than a little dishevelled and annoyed. ‘Only our own outriders coming back,’ I said, as I assisted him across the ditch. ‘Just as well the optio was so alert.’

  Marcus was wholly unimpressed. ‘So you say.’ He brushed twigs and dead leaves from his soiled toga as he spoke. ‘I do not welcome being forced to cower in a ditch, like some common peasant. It seems particularly unfortunate when there was not even any form of threat.’ His voice was dangerously cold and I shuddered for the optio who now came bustling up to us. His chances of promotion were disappearing fast.

  ‘In the name of His Most Imperial Majesty and Divinity the Emperor Commod—’

  ‘Never mind all that. Get on with it,’ my patron interrupted. He was seriously angry now. He would not normally treat the Emperor’s name with such dangerous disrespect. ‘I take it you have something to report. I trust it is sufficiently momentous to account for my having been obliged to scuttle ignominiously beneath a tree? These are our men, I understand, so there was in fact no threat to us at all.’

  The optio flushed but he retained his calm and military air. ‘I regret to tell you, Excellence, that you are misinformed. There is a very present threat indeed. Not only are there rebels in the wood, from whom it is my clear duty to protect you if I can, but it appears that this encounter was no accident. These are the men that I sent out with Subulcus to the far field where the horses were, to chase the raiders at the farm.’