Hawk

by George Green

  * * *

  Deep below the feet of the Mercury boys, underneath tons of stone supported by the vast columns of the arena, a dark warren of tunnels boiled with activity. Otho had finished yelling at the foreman about the delayed start and had started worrying about how it probably meant another delay after lunch. The foreman, in his turn, was screaming abuse at his carpenters about the faulty launching mechanism of the boat, and later on the carpenters would no doubt be taking it out on their apprentices.

  Nearby, in the stables, chariot axles were being greased and wheels polished. The horses were groomed and their hooves inspected. Slaves checked the harness and fixings of the chariots belonging to the amateur racers, the young men who raced for prestige and the admiration of the crowd. Beside them, silent professionals saw to their own equipment with stern faces and absolute concentration. Once they had inspected everything, they did not leave or take their eyes off the chariot. If they were called away for some reason, when they returned the checks were carried out again in their entirety. They were men who knew that their lives hung by a thin leather strap, and that there were others nearby who might have thousands, even millions of shining reasons to wish them ill.

  Chapter Three

  The line of men and wagons rattled slowly through another of a seemingly endless series of narrow ravines.

  It was nearly evening and the birds were settling for the night. A small copse of high thin trees nearby was dark with raucous crows. The noise they made dropped gradually as the light began to fade and the heat went out of the air and their dispute.

  Then one bird let out a harsh cry of warning and in a second black shapes exploded out from every part of the copse, for a moment dragging the outline of the trees into the sky with them, then wheeling away like a cloud of dark rags thrown up into the breeze.

  Serpicus was almost asleep in his saddle.

  ‘Keep your eyes open,’ murmured the rider immediately in front of him.

  Serpicus woke with a start. He looked around uneasily and put his fingers around the handle of his sword. The big German was seldom mistaken about trouble. He signalled to a much younger man riding behind him.

  ‘Decius,’ Serpicus said in a quiet voice. ‘Brutus heard something. Pass the word back. Keep alert.’

  Decius turned his horse in its own length and, with a pleased expression, trotted back along the line. Serpicus watched him go and smiled to himself. It was the young man’s first trip. He had somehow managed not to get himself killed; he was good with the animals and the men liked him, although they never stopped teasing him. Serpicus hadn’t been sure if the lad would cope – or even survive – but he was glad he’d taken a chance on him.

  Decius went back along the line of tired men whispering, ‘Keep alert.’

  ‘Why?’ asked the first one.

  ‘Serpicus says that Brutus says that he heard something.’

  ‘Oh.’ He looked at the man nearest him with a grin. ‘Well, whatever it was, if Brutus heard it then it wasn’t someone else making a suggestion.’

  Several people nearby chuckled, and then the rumble and clack of falling rocks from above made them all wince and look up. The sides of the ravine were steep. There was nowhere to run and there wasn’t room to turn around quickly, even if there had been time to give the order. Boulders were falling along the length of the ravine. The men ducked and cursed as sharp shards of rock bounced down onto their heads. The horses twisted and fretted under them as they tried to untie their shields one-handed. Several men at the front of the column spurred their horses forward in reflex, and then pulled them up as it became clear that the main fall was fifty paces distant. Serpicus watched as dozens of huge boulders crashed down in front of the column, rolling up the other side of the ravine and then settling back to form a wall higher than a man.

  A fist-sized stone passed above Brutus’ head, close enough to graze the ancient leather cap he wore over his red hair, and crashed against the side of the cage beside him. A howling went up from inside the cage accompanied by a frantic scratching of claws against the wooden sides.

  The rocks finished falling with a surprising abruptness. There was silence apart from the distant cawing of crows and the beach-sound of pebbles making small rushes down the slope. The rock-dust settled quickly around them, still damp from the morning’s brief rain. Brutus stood high on the wooden foot-pegs attached to his saddle, stretching his thigh muscles, and then settled back heavily with a thump that made his horse jerk its head in tired surprise.

  ‘Well,’ he said, in a voice loud enough to be heard at the top of the ravine, ‘if anyone is planning on ambushing us I can’t think of a better opportunity.’ He sounded like an indulgent parent letting concealed children nearby know where he was.

  The first two arrows struck simultaneously. The first sank deep into the pommel of Brutus’ saddle and stuck there quivering. The second went clean through the throat of the man riding next to him. The man gave a soft gasp of pain, then his life bubbled up from his mouth and he fell sideways off his horse. Decius let out a yelp of surprise.

  Serpicus pointed at several figures at the top of the ravine. ‘Ambush!’ he shouted.

  Brutus looked at the arrow in his saddle and then down on the final thrashings of the man on the ground. He raised his head to look at Serpicus with an amused expression. ‘Never short of a statement of the obvious,’ he said mildly.

  Brutus stood up in the saddle again and looked back along the line of men trying to control their horses while working out where the danger was coming from. ‘Tomas!’ he yelled, waving an arm and pointing back the way they had come. ‘Up there. Quickly.’ The men at the rear of the column were already turning their horses in anticipation of the order. More rocks began tumbling down the slope, but the attackers hadn’t co-ordinated their efforts well enough. Stones fell near Tomas and his men, but too late to do any damage and too few to block off their retreat.

  Brutus watched Tomas’ men until they rounded a corner and were no longer visible, then gestured to the remaining men behind him. ‘Get those bloody horses in closer to the rock!’ he shouted. ‘Leave the cages, it’s the animals they want, they won’t shoot at them.’

  An arrow hissed past Serpicus’ head. He ducked and kicked his horse towards the side of the ravine, where a narrow shelf protruded the width of a man’s shoulders about half-way up the rock-face and offered just enough to hide them from the attackers above.

  ‘You, you and you, get out there and shoot at anything you see.’ Brutus was pointing at the three best archers. They scowled sullenly, then grabbed their bows and ran back out, finding what cover they could. Any attacker at the top of the ravine who wanted to fire at those below had to lean over the edge, exposing himself to their shafts. They knelt and waited with arrows notched. One of them suddenly brought his bow up, loosed the arrow and brought it down again, all in one fluid movement. There was a sharp cry from above them and a moment later a body landed with a dull thud on the ground nearby and lay still. The marksman grinned and turned to call to one of his comrades, then fell silent. He looked down with a surprised expression to see an arrow growing silently from his own chest. His eyes closed, as if he had dozed off, and he slid sideways and fell gracelessly to the ground. The other archers hunched closer to the rocks.

  Brutus waited until every man apart from the archers was pressed against the side of the ravine before he took cover himself. Then he ran until he crashed into the wall beside Decius.

  ‘Serpicus?’

  Serpicus’ dark face looked sideways. Decius was next to him, separating him from Brutus. The young man looked frightened. Brutus looked something more like amused. Not frightened anyway. Serpicus wondered what his own expression betrayed. ‘What?’ he said.

  ‘How many do you think?’

  Serpicus was breathing deeply but just about under control. ‘I saw five, maybe six.’

  There was a deep chuckle and Brutus leant out to peer around Decius to get a look at him. �
��Lucky you, getting the six who can’t shoot straight.’

  An arrow from above careened off the rock beside Serpicus’ face, its force mostly spent but spattering him with sharp splinters of stone. ‘Then why don’t you go out there and see if they have any better luck shooting at you?’ he growled, wiping his face and seeing bright blood against the white rock-dust on his hand. ‘No matter how bad their shooting is, they couldn’t possibly miss your great fat arse.’

  Brutus laughed again and his white teeth showed through the shadows. ‘I might just do that.’ He sniffed loudly and looked up. ‘They aren’t hitting anything. I bet these ambushing bastards are Spaniards. Spaniards can’t shoot for shit.’

  Serpicus raised an eyebrow and indicated the dead men lying on the ground nearby. ‘Those two might disagree.’

  Brutus shrugged. ‘If enough arrows get shot, even Spaniards will hit something once in a while.’

  There was a pause. Decius looked at Serpicus and then at Brutus. ‘Do you think Tomas will be there yet?’ he asked diffidently.

  ‘Should be, near enough,’ Serpicus said.

  Brutus extended his arm and lifted his sword slowly until it was level with his face, then rotated his wrist to look along both edges. He nodded with satisfaction. Sharp enough for what he had in mind. ‘If these bastards up there think that I’m going to just hand over my beautiful animals after six weeks of breaking my bloody back to catch them, they can think again,’ he murmured.

  Serpicus looked at him with a studied expression. ‘It’s been a privilege to help you in your endeavours,’ he growled. Brutus just grinned.

  ‘So,’ he said to Serpicus. ‘Six or so of them up top we know about, assume maybe six more who you didn’t see because you were too busy running for cover.’

  ‘I’d have run a damn sight faster if I hadn’t been stuck behind you,’ Serpicus said.

  ‘And Tomas has just four men plus himself,’ Brutus said cheerfully. ‘Even if he catches those bandits dismounted he’s going to have problems. We’re going to have to help him.’ Serpicus sighed and nodded agreement.

  Decius looked bewildered. ‘How can we help him? He’s up there and we’re down here.’

  Serpicus looked along the ravine both ways. Each direction was as bad as the other. ‘You and me, left?’ he said to Brutus. The big man nodded once and leant out, looked up swiftly and then jerked himself back under cover again. An arrow smacked into the flat rock next to him and ricocheted sideways, slicing across the skin of his foot. A thin line of blood oozed out between the leather straps of his sandal and mixed with the thick second skin of brown dust on his instep. He looked at it and then glanced up. ‘This lot are starting to annoy me.’ He tapped the two men next to him on the shoulder and gestured to the end of the ravine. ‘We’ll go left. You two go right.’ They nodded agreement. ‘Take off everything that you don’t need, you’ll want to be moving as fast as you can.’

  They stripped off most of their light armour. Serpicus took several deep breaths. The idea of trading protection for speed struck him as one that suited someone who could run very fast. Faster than him. Serpicus didn’t have anything on his arms or legs anyway, and arrows bristled from the ground like spiteful weeds around them. He decided that he was keeping his body armour even if it did slow him down.

  ‘What shall I do?’ asked Decius. Serpicus didn’t get the feeling that Decius much wanted to get shot at, but nor did he want to be left behind. Serpicus preferred Decius’ state of youthful ignorance, which was likely to keep him alive, to his own clear adult recognition of what needed to be done and how it was going to get him shot at and probably killed.

  ‘Stay here, keep everyone under the shelf, don’t move,’ growled Brutus and then cuffed Decius heavily round the head. Serpicus grinned at the young man, who tried to smile. They both knew that the ringing in Decius’ ears was Brutus’ way of saying ‘Look after yourself’.

  With what was intended to be a roar of defiance but which Serpicus suspected probably sounded more like a howl of fright, he broke cover with Brutus close behind him and ran to the left, heading back towards the rear of the column. The two other men went right, forward towards the wall of fallen boulders. They were shielded by an intermittent overhang for a spear’s throw, but then they would be exposed and moving slowly as they climbed. With luck, neither pair should get hit too soon or too often. In theory, the ambushers would be preoccupied with shooting at the four running men, which would give Tomas time to get to the top of the hill and attack them. However, if the archers saw Tomas early enough, by the time the horses reached them there wouldn’t be anyone on the horses’ backs.

  So they raced across the floor of the ravine, offering themselves as targets, jinking from left to right, their shields held across their backs and over their shoulders like old men holding up their togas to protect them from a sudden shower of rain. Serpicus heard metal shriek off a rock nearby, and another shaft pinned a scuttling lizard to the ground just beside him. Then he felt a dull thud as an arrow struck his shield.

  ‘Thought you said they weren’t any good,’ he snarled.

  Brutus instinctively dodged sideways from an arrow that landed just in front of him. ‘I may, after all, be wrong about the Spaniards’ shooting ability,’ he gasped. ‘Or perhaps even wrong about them being Spaniards at all.’ Brutus turned to Serpicus for a moment and Serpicus could see that Brutus’ shield was no longer fully covering his head. Serpicus opened his mouth to shout a warning but he was too slow. An arrow hissed over Brutus’ shoulder and sliced through the flap of his ear, ripping most of it off and knocking the leather cap sideways. A second tore at the muscle at the top of his shoulder as it passed. Brutus slapped a hand to his ear and saw dark blood.

  ‘Definitely not fucking Spaniards,’ he said, smearing the leather cap more firmly onto his head with his bloodstained hand. ‘Run like Hades or we’re dead.’

  Two more arrows hit a large rock nearby, and then the barrage suddenly stopped. Either the two men were out of range or Tomas had arrived on the hill top. Brutus ducked behind the rock and ripped a strip of cloth from his shirt. Serpicus slowed down and then turned and knelt, holding his shield in front of his body.

  The attackers were silhouetted against the sky. Some had their hands raised, a few were fighting desperately against the horsemen who rode amongst them, using the horses to knock the archers off balance and then hacking down at them. The crest on Tomas’ helmet was clearly visible. Serpicus saw one man jump at him, trying to drag him off his horse. Tomas swung his sword in a back-handed arc. The attacker clutched at his face and fell backwards into the ravine with a sharp cry.

  It only lasted a few more moments. The horsemen rounded up those ambushers who were left alive and pushed them back down towards where Serpicus and Brutus were standing. Serpicus noticed that Decius had appeared nearby.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Decius nodded. Serpicus realized that it was probably his first fight. He reached out and put a hand on Decius’ shoulder. The flesh trembled against his palm.

  ‘Take a look at the animals,’ Serpicus said. ‘Make sure none of them were hurt.’

  Decius nodded and trotted back to the cages. Brutus watched him move away, and raised an eyebrow at Serpicus. Serpicus nodded assent.

  ‘He’ll be fine,’ he said.

  Chapter Four

  When they arrived at the collection pens that afternoon, Galba was waiting for them. His fat arms were folded and he rested his weight on his good leg as always. Brutus looked at the Thracian and let out a low growl as he slid down painfully from his horse. A thick dark carapace of dried blood crusted one side of his neck like bark on a tree and the bandage around his head was stiff with bloodstains. A similar cloth covered the wound in his shoulder. His ancient leather cap was filthy with blood and sweat and covered in dust, and so merged seamlessly with his face.

  Galba looked up at Brutus in the same way that one might look at a complete stranger who has just claimed in all seriousness,
but without any evidence, that he is about to burst suddenly into flames.

  ‘So,’ he said carefully, ‘how did it go?’

  Serpicus got wearily off his horse. ‘No real problems,’ he said. Brutus let out another growl and Serpicus moved smartly away from him. ‘Well, nothing serious anyway.’

  He stepped behind a pillar as Brutus reached for an earthenware jug. ‘Nothing you’d really feel pressed to mention.’ The jug crashed into shards against the pillar.

  Galba shook his almost hairless head at Brutus. ‘You’re a mess,’ he said. ‘Come on, I’ll get the doctor to clean it up for you.’

  Brutus coughed and spat. ‘Later.’ He glanced at the tired men unloading equipment around him. ‘I’ve got to sort this lot out first.’

  ‘Go on, take him,’ Serpicus said to Galba. ‘We’ll see to things here.’ Decius nodded enthusiastically at the idea on behalf of the rest of the men. Unloading was never easy, and Brutus in his present mood could make it twice as hard. Brutus looked unsure. Serpicus gestured him away. ‘Go on. You can always come back and check on our progress when the quack has finished sewing you up. And while he’s doing it you can tell Galba all about how you saved us from the bandits.’

  Brutus hesitated and looked at the men. ‘Tell them I’ll be back.’

  ‘I’ve no doubt they’ll be waiting eagerly. Now go.’

  Galba limped after Brutus. Serpicus went over and helped start to unload the cages with the feeling that nothing was ever really simple.

  The collection pens were a huge complex of barns and stables, a short ride to the north of Rome. All the animals for the arena that had been caught by trappers without their own stables to keep them in – which was most of them – were delivered there. The animals were kept, fed and rested, and then taken to Rome when they were needed. It meant that the animals were properly counted and the hunters paid correctly. It also meant that convoys of wild animals were not brought through the streets of Rome unsupervised.