‘That’s the bitch.’ Crescens lunged at the prisoner with the dagger, clearly intent on slicing her from breastbone to crotch. Ceris knocked the knife contemptuously aside with the point of her sword.
‘Don’t be a fool.’
Valerius’s mind raced. The last thing they needed was a prisoner to slow them down. If anyone deserved killing, as Crescens’s story confirmed, it was the Chatti witch, but Valerius hesitated. The implications of cutting Aurinia’s throat had the potential to be devastating for the whole Rhenus frontier. Stones in pools. You never knew what effect the ripples would have. Sulpicius Galba had signed his death warrant when he’d dismissed Otho’s claim to be his heir with a sneer. Would Vitellius ever have picked up Divine Caesar’s sword if he’d known it would lead to the Gemonian Steps? ‘Tie her up and leave her,’ Valerius ordered.
Ceris glared at him. ‘It seems he is not the only fool.’
Hilario raised a hand to her, but Didius and Serenus appeared with Florus and Ceris rushed to take her lover in her arms. They stood gazing into each other’s eyes for a moment before Hilario parted them. ‘We don’t have time for this,’ the big man urged.
‘Why am I a fool?’ Valerius demanded of the British girl.
Ceris turned to fix him with her luminous eyes. ‘Because without Aurinia we will never return to Confluentes.’
XX
Crescens and Florus had to make do with the blood-soaked and soiled clothing of the dead guards, but anything was better than nakedness and the terrors of their captivity. Valerius emerged from the tower into the square. Shabolz confirmed the area was clear and cast aside the guard’s spear to take the lead once more. He set off into the darkness at a trot and let the others follow as they could. Didius and Serenus supported Crescens, whose legs were virtually useless, while Licco and Valerius did the same for Florus. Hilario picked up the witch Aurinia, by now gagged as well as bound, and carried her as if she weighed nothing, while Ceris brought up the rear.
They were halfway back to the stream when the dog barked again, close and startlingly loud. Shabolz dropped to the ground and the others did likewise. This time the warning was followed by the sound of a woman’s voice from within a neighbouring house. Ceris lay by the corner of the building, tense and waiting. Without warning a shadow loomed over her, immediately engulfed from behind by an even greater shadow. A moment of muffled complaint before she rose up to force the point of her sword into the struggling body. She felt the momentary obstruction as the flesh closed round the blade and tried vainly to withdraw the sword for a second strike.
‘Finish him,’ a voice hissed.
The body bucked against her and she used both hands and all her strength to ram the point home until the man went rigid and she felt the warmth of his lifeblood flood over her hands.
‘Hurry.’ Hilario dropped the body and ran to where he’d left the witch, whispering to Valerius that they were discovered. Ceris made an ineffectual pull at the sword hilt, but it was stuck fast and she abandoned the blade before bounding after the others.
The urgency of their situation had communicated itself to Shabolz and he abandoned the shelter of the stream for the quicker going along the top of the bank. They dashed heedless through gardens and across soil pits, stumbling over low fences. Crescens and Florus had recovered sufficiently to manage a stumbling run. More dogs took up the call, but there was still no general outcry. Valerius knew it couldn’t last.
As they approached the wall Nilus rose out of the shadows with Bato, another of the Pannonians. ‘This way,’ he called softly. Shabolz swerved to his left and dropped into the stream with a splash.
‘What …?’ Nilus, who’d spent what felt like an eternity maintaining complete silence, opened his mouth to protest, but Valerius pushed him towards the opening.
‘Gather up your men and save your breath for running.’
He waited in the stream and counted them through, Hilario with his tiny burden, and Ceris last of all, before he ducked under the palisade. Marius had sent his men ahead while he waited for Valerius. As they ran for the trees the one-handed Roman breathlessly explained the position.
‘So they’ll be on our tail?’
‘It will take them time to work out exactly what’s happened, but when they do every able-bodied man in the settlement will be looking for us. We have to put as much distance as possible between ourselves and Guda before then.’
Shabolz had halted the others beneath the trees and Valerius and Marius joined them. Crescens and Florus were breathing hard and Valerius decided he had no option but to allow them a few moments to recover.
Shabolz approached him. ‘What now, lord?’
‘The galley as fast as we can. If we reach the river early we’ll turn west to where they’ve anchored for the night.’
‘What if they overtake us?’
‘They won’t overtake us. When the men hear what the witch had planned for Crescens and Florus they’ll run through Hades to avoid the same fate.’
The Pannonian’s eyes strayed to where Hilario had laid Aurinia. ‘We would move faster without her.’
‘That’s true,’ Valerius agreed. ‘But we need her, more so now than before. Even if we reach the galley we still have to get back to the Rhenus. When they realize she’s gone they’ll send their fastest horses and their swiftest craft to spread word of her abduction. Every settlement on the river will be looking out for us. If we take her, we have a chance. Cut her throat and we have next to none.’
He went to where Hilario sat beneath a tree. ‘If you’re tiring let me know, and I’ll have someone else carry her for a while.’
‘She’s but a feather to me,’ the big man grunted. ‘Have someone carry my packs and I’ll get her to the river.’
‘Should we remove the gag?’ Valerius bent over the tethered bundle, only to flinch back as he became the focus of a pair of malevolent eyes glaring at him with visceral hatred from their nests of wrinkled skin.
‘I took it out to give her some water and had a piece removed from my hand for my pains. The witch still has her fangs.’
Valerius helped him to his feet. ‘You are a credit to your legion, soldier.’ Hilario’s gap-toothed grin shone in the dark. ‘Get the men ready.’
Shabolz set a fast pace, but not a man faltered, nor Ceris who matched Florus stride for stride. Hilario rumbled on with a dogged, high-kneed gait and Aurinia bundled in his arms. As they advanced the Pannonian dropped back beside Valerius. ‘We could take to the woods. Stay out of sight and work our way west until we reach the Rhenus,’ he suggested.
Valerius considered the possibility before rejecting it. ‘They know these mountains better than we do, and the chances of getting lost or being discovered are too great. If we stick to the path we can be back at the river well before daylight. Antonius and Rapid Racer give us our best chance.’
They reached the path more quickly than Valerius had anticipated and turned off the road towards the river. Shabolz and Licco dropped back to brush away any tracks they’d left.
A soft mist formed, turning the black night a silvery grey and coating clothing and equipment with tiny droplets of water. The treacherous, undulating dirt track through the forest was less inviting than the road, but Valerius had the topography in his head and he refused to slacken speed. A fully laden legionary could march twenty miles in a day and build a defended camp at the end of it. Even in the dark, he reckoned the four miles shouldn’t take much more than an hour. He cast hopeful glances at the sky, looking for the hint of gold that would herald the first sign of sunrise, but he looked in vain.
Lungs bursting, they marched onwards with the mist thickening to an impenetrable fog. Valerius stalked the little column like a centurion, snarling encouragement and threats until at last Shabolz called to them to halt and they collapsed, gasping for breath. Somewhere ahead, Valerius could hear the familiar rush of the river in the fog-dulled silence.
Valerius sent Shabolz to find a route to where they’d
landed. As they waited, he sat with the others, reassuring them all was well and it was only a matter of time before Antonius arrived to pick them up.
But when Shabolz reported back there was a note of consternation in his voice. ‘I can’t be sure, lord. In this fog one piece of bank looks just like another. Better to lie up and form a perimeter here, and I’ll check again as soon as it gets light.’
Valerius hid his disappointment. ‘Find me a place we can defend, at need, with our backs to the river.’
Shabolz returned a few minutes later and led Valerius to the site he’d chosen. Valerius had been expecting a height or at the very least the mouth of a gully where he could set up a defensive wall. ‘This is it?’ the Roman whispered as they inspected the position, a low hill that, if it hadn’t been for the fog, would have overlooked the rough jetty the natives had built on the bank of the Logana.
‘It’s the best I could find, lord.’
The hill was perhaps twenty paces by ten and barely a dozen feet high. Steep-sided and covered in trees, it reminded Valerius of the grave mounds where the barbarians had interred their dead in ancient times. Now that Crescens and Florus were back with them his little force counted twenty-five, including himself and Ceris. He put them to work collecting a barrier of thorn bushes which grew in abundance in the forest and cutting pointed stakes to place among the heavy scrub on the land side of the hill. Dawn – and rescue – couldn’t be far away, but the danger grew with every passing moment and he would not make it easy for his enemies. He bitterly regretted leaving the galley’s pila with Antonius. The heavy spears would have slowed them on the march, but he’d have been confident of holding the hill against any number of barbarians.
When he was satisfied with the preparations he scrambled down to the river and stared out into the fog with the soft burble of the water filling his ears. For the first time it struck him that unless the weather cleared it would be almost impossible for Antonius to find the rendezvous.
By now the Chatti would have discovered that Aurinia’s kidnappers hadn’t escaped by river at Guda. They would know east wasn’t an option because it would take the Romans further into danger. That left the hills to the north and the western road, and eventually the western road would lead them here. Was there anything else he could have done? If Antonius was coming he should have left his hiding place by now. Perhaps they should have been cutting wood for rafts, but that would leave them at the mercy of the natives and the river, and in any case they only had a few feet of rope. No, he’d done what he could. Despite the threat of imminent danger it was oddly peaceful standing in the darkness with the sound of the river lulling his senses. His thoughts turned to Tabitha and the unborn child growing inside her, enduring another night without him in Confluentes. They would be asleep now, or perhaps Tabitha was staring out over the river wondering whether he was alive or dead. For a moment it seemed all he had to do to reach her was to cast off his chain armour, walk into the river and let it carry him away. The fog seemed a lighter grey now, and he guessed dawn was close. He bent and picked up a pebble from amongst the gravel on the river bed. Considering it for a moment, he threw it out into the stream, then walked after it; six or seven strides until the chill water reached his thighs and the current threatened to pull his feet from under him.
‘Movement in the woods, lord.’
Valerius splashed his way back to the bank and picked his way up the slope behind Shabolz. The Pannonian had already alerted the others and they stood behind a wall of thorns four feet high and just as thick, swords at the ready. Licco ran in from his position beside the road.
‘They’re coming.’
‘How many?’
‘I saw twenty or thirty in the fog, but I could hear more in the woods on both sides of the road. More than enough.’
‘Then we’ll make them pay for every inch of this hill until Antonius reaches us,’ Valerius said loudly enough for all to hear. ‘They’ll come all the faster when they hear the sound of battle. These bastards are doing us a favour.’
He doubted he’d convinced anyone, but it was an officer’s duty to keep up the spirits of his men even if he knew they were all likely to be dead within the hour. It must be almost light now, because he could make out Hilario standing close by holding Aurinia by the arm.
‘I need you in the line,’ he said. ‘Give the witch to Ceris.’
‘I can fight,’ the Corieltauvi girl protested from her position beside Florus.
‘I know you can fight,’ Valerius said patiently. ‘But can you follow orders?’ Ceris rose and took Hilario’s place. ‘If they break through you know what to do?’
She drew her dagger and placed the point against Aurinia’s neck. The sorceress flinched, but her expression didn’t change.
‘If they attack at once,’ Shabolz whispered, ‘they could overrun us in a moment.’
‘They won’t do that,’ Valerius assured him. ‘They don’t know how many we are, or how strong this position is. Their leader could lose a lot of men and it might be for nothing. They may probe us, but there’s an easier way.’
The Chatti warriors made little attempt to conceal their approach and the crack of twigs and rustle of leaves from the fog was almost constant. Valerius could feel the tension rising. ‘Steady,’ he whispered to the defenders. ‘They can’t reach us until they’ve climbed the hill. Kill them while they’re fighting their way through the thorn bushes.’
‘I wish to talk.’ The disembodied voice from the fog spoke a guttural but intelligible Latin.
Valerius motioned to the defenders to crouch down behind the barriers where they couldn’t be seen. ‘I’m listening,’ he replied.
‘May I approach?’
‘Only if you’re certain I won’t put a spear through you.’
‘Surely you are anxious to see the face of the man who could save your life.’ A shadowy figure appeared through the fog and walked into the dip between the hill and the trees.
‘That’s far enough.’ Valerius studied his enemy, a tall bare-chested Chatti warrior with long dark moustaches and a topknot. Torcs of gold decorated his arms and declared his high rank. His eyes glittered like shards of obsidian. A twist of his lip suggested he found the whole situation amusing, but Valerius knew the smile was an illusion.
‘You took a woman from our village.’
‘We took your witch.’ Valerius allowed a confident sneer to tint his voice. ‘I’m going to give her as a present to the Emperor. Either that or slit her throat the moment your first warrior steps on this hill.’
‘Send her to me and I will spare your lives.’
Valerius laughed. ‘If I send her to you I’ll have nothing to bargain with. There’ll be nothing to stop you attacking and, to be honest, I’m not sure I believe you’ll spare my life if you succeed.’
‘That may be, Roman.’ The Celt stared up at him. ‘But you have my word that your end will be quick. You will have heard from the cowards you rescued of the fate we intended for them?’
‘Your word is worth as much as the turd that comes out of my arse in the morning.’
The Chatti leader ignored the insult. ‘I have five hundred men, all warriors and all pledged to the service of the sorceress. If you make me send them for her I promise I will make you eat your turds before we cast you from the sky platform. Think on that, Roman. Think on what it feels like to have your guts stripped from you as you fall to your death.’
‘We have talked enough,’ Valerius said. ‘My spearmen’s hands are itching and I cannot guarantee your safety any longer.’
The warrior stood for just long enough to prove the threat didn’t frighten him before he stepped back into the fog.
‘Five hundred warriors?’ someone whispered. ‘We’re dead.’
‘Give them the witch. What difference does it make?’
‘The difference between living and dying,’ Ceris hissed.
‘We should get out while we can,’ Crescens’s distinctive voice. ‘Take our
chances on the river.’
‘Quiet,’ Valerius snarled. ‘We are Roman soldiers. If we fight together we stay alive together. They couldn’t gather five hundred warriors in four or five hours. I doubt Guda held sixty. The rest will be farmers and potters and tanners. Fodder for your swords.’
‘You don’t know that,’ Shabolz whispered so only Valerius could hear. It was the first hint of dissent from the Pannonian and a sign of how desperate he believed their situation to be.
‘No,’ Valerius admitted. ‘But I know they don’t have five hundred warriors. If we can survive for another hour we can get out of here.’
‘How?’ the Pannonian demanded. ‘The galley will never find us in this.’
The blast of a trumpet sent a bolt of lightning down Valerius’s spine. At first he thought it was the signal for the Chatti attack, but it came from downriver and the familiar tone suggested the instrument was a Roman one. Antonius!
‘Nilus?’ he cried. ‘Answer it and keep repeating the call every ten seconds.’ He rushed to the front of the hill. Visibility had increased to the extent that he could see individual trees, with vague shapes moving between them. The sound of the horn would have confused the Chatti chieftain as much as it had Valerius, and Nilus’s frantic blasts were no doubt compounding it. Did they herald the arrival of twenty Roman galleys carrying two hundred legionaries, or was it some trick to draw him into an ambush? The question was what he would do about it.
Another blast from the river, much closer now.
Valerius made his decision. ‘Florus, help Ceris get the witch down to the river. I need to know the moment the galley appears. The rest of you hold your positions and I want to hear you cheering.’
He could see their faces now and every man stared at him. ‘Cheer, you bastards,’ he snarled. At last they obeyed. A faltering cry at first, but one which grew into a great triumphant roar that poured scorn on their enemy.
Glory of Rome: (Gaius Valerius Verrens 8) Page 16