The goatherd raised his eyebrows anxiously and then hurried inside the house as Cerberus stared after him for a moment and then trotted back to Marcus’s side. He stroked the dog’s head affectionately. Livia moved to grasp his father’s thick arm.
‘What are you thinking, Titus? You heard Aristides. There are three of them, armed. Soldiers, he said. You cannot fight them. Don’t even think about it.’
Titus shook his head. ‘I’ve faced tougher odds and won. As you know well enough.’
His mother’s expression hardened. ‘That was a long time ago. You haven’t been in any kind of fight for over ten years now.’
‘I won’t fight them if I don’t have to. But Decimus will have sent them to collect money. They will not leave without it.’
‘How much money?’
Titus looked down and scratched the back of his neck. ‘Nine hundred sestertii.’
‘Nine hundred!’
‘I am behind three payments,’ Titus explained. ‘I’ve been expecting this.’
‘Can you pay them?’ she asked anxiously.
‘No. There’s not much in the strongbox. Enough to see us through to the winter, and then …’ He shook his head.
Livia frowned angrily. ‘You had better explain everything to me later. Marcus!’ She turned to her son. ‘Go and fetch the money chest from beneath the shrine in the atrium. Now.’
Marcus nodded and made to run into the house.
‘Stay where you are, boy!’ Titus called out, loud enough to be heard for a hundred paces in every direction. ‘Leave the chest where it is. I’ll not be forced to pay a single coin before I am ready to.’
‘Are you mad?’ asked Livia. ‘You can’t fight armed men alone.’
‘We’ll see.’ Titus responded gravely. ‘Now, take the boy and go indoors. I’ll deal with it.’
‘You’ll get yourself hurt, or killed, Titus. Then what will become of Marcus and me? Answer me that.’
‘Go indoors,’ Titus commanded.
Marcus saw his mother open her mouth to protest, but both of them knew the steely look in Titus’s eyes. She shook her head crossly and held out a hand towards Marcus. ‘Come with me.’
Marcus stared at her, then at his father, and stood his ground, determined to prove his worth to his father.
‘Marcus, come with me. Now!’
‘No. I’m staying here.’ He drew himself up and placed his hands on his hips. ‘Cerberus and I can stand at father’s side, if it comes to a fight.’ He wanted the words to sound brave but his voice quavered slightly.
‘What’s this? Stay?’ Titus asked, bemused. ‘You are not yet ready to take your place in the battle-line, my boy. Go with your mother.’
Marcus shook his head. ‘You need me. Us.’ He nodded at Cerberus and the dog’s ears pricked up and he wagged his bushy tail.
Before Titus could protest, Aristides came out of the house. In one hand he clutched his staff. In the other he held a sword scabbard, from which a leather strap dangled. Titus took the weapon and looped the strap over his head, shifting his shoulder until he was satisfied that the sword hung well and that the hilt was within easy reach. Aristides went over to the gate and kept watch on the road that led down the slope towards Nydri. Suddenly Titus snatched at the sword handle and ripped the blade out in one motion, so swiftly that Marcus flinched. He let out a small cry. Cerberus growled.
His father glanced at him with a smile and sheathed the sword. ‘Easy there, I was just checking that the sword drew swiftly. It’s why I keep the scabbard and blade oiled – just in case.’
Marcus swallowed nervously. ‘In case of what, father?’
‘In case of moments like this. Now, you leave this to me. Go into the house until I call for you.’
Marcus stared back defiantly. ‘My place is at your side, father. I can fight.’ He grasped the leather pouch and thongs of the sling tucked into the belt fastened around his waist. ‘I can hit a hare at fifty paces with this.’
His mother had been watching the two of them. Now she called out, ‘For pity’s sake, Marcus! Come inside, now!’
‘Livia,’ her husband cut in. ‘You go. Take shelter in the kitchen. I’ll speak to Marcus. He’ll come to you directly.’
She made to protest, then saw the fiery light in his eyes and turned away, her sandals scuffing over the flagstones. Titus turned back to Marcus and smiled fondly. ‘My boy, you are still too young to fight my battles. Please, go with your mother.’
But it was too late. Before Titus had finished speaking, there was a sharp hiss from Aristides. The goatherd cupped a hand to his mouth and called out as loudly as he dared, ‘Master! They’re coming!’
2
His father gestured towards the entrance to the house. ‘Marcus, stand over there and don’t move.’
Marcus nodded and clicked his fingers to catch the dog’s attention. ‘Follow!’
They took up position on the shaded side of the small entrance hall leading into the modest atrium of the house, out of sight of the gate. Aristides took a firm grasp of his staff and stood ready, to one side of the gate.
All was still for a moment. Marcus’s heart was thudding inside his chest and his mouth was dry. Then he heard them, the muted voices of the three men approaching up the lane towards the gate. One of them made some comment and the others laughed. It was a harsh, unpleasant sound and Marcus cursed himself. He had said he could help his father but he had no shot for his sling and, in any case, he needed space and time to make the weapon ready.
Marcus knew he had a good eye and Aristides had taught him well – well enough to kill one of the wild dogs that had been preying on the goats earlier in the spring. But in the present situation the weapon was as good as useless.
Just then he saw one of his father’s vine canes leaning in the corner of the entrance. He snatched it up and held it ready, determined to strike hard with the gnarled end if there was a fight.
The men’s voices died away as they neared the gate, their boots crunched over the gravel and they entered the farm. Marcus peered round the corner of the entrance hall and glanced over at the unwelcome visitors. A tall, muscular man led the way. He had straggly hair, streaked with grey and held back by a leather headband. Marcus guessed the man was not many years younger than his father. He looked solid enough, and the scar stretching diagonally across his face was proof that he was used to fighting. On either side of him, and a pace behind their leader, the other two were equally tough-looking and each carried a spear, in addition to the swords that hung from their belts.
Titus looked them up and down before he cleared his throat and spoke directly. ‘Who are you? State your business and then be on your way.’
The leader’s hard expression creased into a smile and he raised his hands to placate Titus. ‘Easy there, sir! There’s no need to come the hard centurion on us. We’re just here to bring you a message. From Decimus.’ The smile faded.
‘First, tell me your name.’
‘Why?’
‘I like to know who I’m dealing with,’ Titus replied evenly as his hand slid up and rested over the pommel of his sword hilt.
‘Very well. I am Thermon. I deal with my master’s more difficult customers.’
‘Speak your piece, Thermon, and go.’
‘Now then, now then, there’s no call for such an inhospitable attitude, sir. The reason we’re here is simple enough. You owe our master some money. A thousand and fifty sestertii, to be precise. He has sent us to collect the debt.’
‘Nine hundred,’ Titus replied evenly.
‘Pardon, sir?’
‘I owe nine hundred sestertii. Not a thousand and fifty.’
The leader folded his hands together and cracked his knuckles. ‘Ah, you see, there’s the question of additional interest to be paid on the debt. You owe Decimus one thousand and fifty, like I said … My master wants the money. Now.’
Titus sighed wearily. ‘I haven’t got it. Decimus knows this. I’ve told his agent tha
t I will pay him next year, as soon as I have had a good harvest. You’d better turn around and go back to Decimus and explain it to him carefully, so that there’s no misunderstanding this time. Tell him, he will have his money, as soon as I can afford to pay it.’ Titus paused briefly. ‘And there will be no extra interest. He will have what I owe him, and no more. Now, I will tell you one last time, leave my property.’
The leader puffed his cheeks and shook his head. ‘Sorry, Centurion, that simply won’t do. We either leave with the money, or with valuables sufficient to cover the amount – their full amount – you owe Decimus. That’s how it is.’
Titus stared back at him, and the other men tightened their grip on their spears and inclined the tips slightly towards the former centurion. Marcus could sense that the confrontation would explode into violence at any moment. He clenched his fists around the vine cane. He knew Cerberus sensed the danger too. The hackles began to rise along the dog’s spine and he snarled, revealing gleaming white fangs.
Before either Titus or his visitors could act, there was a sudden movement to the side of the gate as Aristides stepped forward, clutching his staff in his frail hands.
‘The master told you to leave!’ His voice was thin and reedy, but there was no mistaking the determination in his deep-set eyes below the thick white tufts of hair lining his brow. ‘Get out.’
Thermon blinked in surprise and then let out a roar of laughter. His two men followed suit, laughing nervously as they glanced from Aristides to Titus.
‘Centurion, where on earth did you find this relic?’ Thermon shook his head and quickly sized up Aristides. ‘I doubt we’ll need to count him into the inventory. He’s not worth anything – you’d have to give him away.’
Marcus felt a fiery anger in his heart as the men insulted Aristides. He saw his father’s expression darken. Titus gritted his teeth and growled, ‘My slave is not for sale. And you will do as he says and get off my land.’
Thermon’s humour instantly faded. He drew his sword and turned to nod at his men, and they lowered the points of their spears. Thermon faced Titus again. ‘Your choice, Centurion. Pay up, or else.’
Titus sneered as he drew his own sword and settled into a fighting crouch. ‘I think I’ll choose “or else”.’
Marcus stared anxiously at his father. His limbs trembled. There was no way Titus could win against three men alone. Marcus had to do something.
Just then Aristides launched himself at the nearest of Thermon’s men with a shrill cry, swinging his staff round in an arc. The man turned and held out his spear, blocking the blow with a sharp crack of wood on wood. The goatherd pressed forward, groaning with the effort. Thermon’s man was younger, stronger and used to handling a weapon, and he easily absorbed the charge. He thrust back, sending Aristides flying. With a pained grunt, the goatherd fell on his back. At once his opponent stood over him and drew back his spear, as if to strike.
‘Cerberus! Catch!’ Marcus yelled, and he hurled his vine cane at the man. There was a blur of fur and teeth as the dog leapt forward and jumped for the stick. The dog’s body slammed into the man, bowling him over and making him drop his spear. Aristides rolled aside and staggered to his feet, desperately trying to scramble out of reach before the man could recover.
Meanwhile Titus swept forward with a roar, violently knocking aside a spear thrust from Thermon’s other companion and smashing the heavy brass guard of his sword into the man’s face. His head snapped back and he dropped, out cold.
But before Titus could turn on Thermon, the intruder was already making his attack. His sword thrust straight at Titus’s chest. The centurion swung his own sword round, just parrying the blow in time. The point cut through the air inches from his scalp. At once Thermon pulled his sword arm back and thrust again. This time Titus was not quite quick enough and the blade cut into his own sword arm.
‘Ahh!’ Titus cried out, instinctively slackening his grip.
Thermon seized the advantage and with a ringing blow knocked the sword from Titus’s hand.
Marcus felt an icy fist of terror clench round his heart. Snatching a deep breath, he charged out from the entrance and jumped on to Thermon’s back, wrapping his thin arms around the man’s throat.
‘What in Hades?’ Thermon snarled.
Marcus held on as tight as he could – terrified but determined not to let go. He heard an excited bark, then Cerberus sprang forward, sinking his teeth into Thermon’s sword arm. Caught between the dog and the boy trying to throttle him, Thermon cursed them both furiously through his gritted teeth. He released his grip on the sword and it clattered to the ground.
‘Good boy!’ Titus shouted as he snatched up his sword and went for the man facing Aristides.
‘Look out!’ Thermon grunted.
His companion’s attention was still focused on the old goatherd and so he barely had time to take heed of the warning before Titus swung a cut at his arm, slicing through to the bone. With a shrill cry of agony the man dropped the spear and clutched his arm to his chest. Titus kicked the spear towards Aristides.
‘Take it. If he tries anything, run him through.’
‘Yes, master!’ The goatherd grinned. ‘It’d be a pleasure.’
Titus turned and raised his sword to Thermon’s throat. ‘Let him go, Marcus, and call off the dog.’
Marcus loosened his grip and dropped to the ground, heart beating wildly. He caught his breath and snapped his fingers. ‘Cerberus! Drop!’
Reluctantly the dog loosened his jaws and padded round Thermon, with a parting snarl, before he trotted to Marcus’s side. Marcus was proud of his dog – he patted Cerberus on the head. ‘Good boy.’
Thermon rubbed his throat with his hand. Blood oozed from the tooth marks on his other arm. He stared at Titus with a look of bitter hatred.
Titus smiled. ‘I think you’d better take your men and report back to Decimus. Tell him he’ll have his money in good time. Tell him that if he tries to send any more of his thugs to harass me, then they’ll get the same treatment you have.’
He gestured to the man lying on the ground. ‘Now pick him up and get off my land.’
Thermon and the man with the wounded arm picked their comrade up with some difficulty. With his arms over their shoulders they made their way to the entrance. Thermon paused briefly to glance over his shoulder. ‘Centurion, this isn’t over. Be warned – I’ll be back, with more men. You’ll pay dearly for defying Decimus.’
‘Pah!’ Titus spat on the ground.
Then the unwelcome visitors were gone, and there was only the sound of their boots scraping up the path.
Marcus glanced at his father and Aristides. All three of them were breathing heavily. Suddenly Titus let out a cheer and Marcus joined in, his heart beating fast with relief that they were all unhurt, and also pride that they had beaten their foes. Titus slapped his hand down on Marcus’s shoulder.
‘Well, you’re a chip off your old man’s block and no mistake!’
Marcus looked up at him and beamed with happiness at the praise. ‘And Cerberus too, father. He helped.’
‘He did indeed!’ Titus fondly stroked the dog’s head.
Aristides tossed the spear aside and joined them. Even though the old man was a slave, Titus put his spare arm around him and patted them both on the shoulder. ‘As fine a victory as any I’ve known. Well done, men!’
Marcus and Aristides laughed happily, and Titus joined in, until he noticed a figure standing in the entrance to the house, watching them coldly.
‘I hope you’re pleased with yourself,’ said Livia.
Titus drew himself up defiantly. ‘That I am.’
‘Really? Do you think this is over? I heard him. He says he will be back, with more men.’
Titus waved a hand dismissively. ‘I doubt it. We’ve taught him, and Decimus, a lesson. You’ll see. If he tries anything against a Roman citizen, and a decorated centurion at that, then he knows he’ll catch it in the neck. But if it makes you
feel more comfortable, we’ll keep a watch out for them.’
Marcus saw his mother shake her head. She turned away and walked back into the house. Even though his heart burned with pride at having fought at his father’s side, he could not help wondering if she was right. What if Decimus did send more men? They would surely be better prepared to take on his father next time.
‘Well, that was fun!’ Titus grinned. ‘Something worthy of a celebration. Aristides!’
‘Master?’
‘Slaughter your best goat. Tonight we celebrate our victory with a feast!’
Marcus looked up and exchanged a smile with his father. Titus patted his cheek and nodded with satisfaction.
‘My little soldier. You’ll make quite a fighter one day. You’ll see.’
3
Several days after Decimus’s men had been driven off, Marcus and Aristides were sitting on a slab of rock watching over the goats.
‘Cerberus served you well the other day.’ Aristides smiled, then his expression grew more serious. ‘However, you still have some way to go before that dog is fully trained.’
Marcus looked down at Cerberus. The dog sensed his attention, and gazed up with a devoted expression and wagged his tail happily. ‘He seems tame enough.’
‘He’s tame, but he’s not trained,’ Aristides said firmly. ‘It was quick thinking to throw that stick for him, but you can’t rely on that working next time.’
‘Next time? You really think those men will come back?’
‘It’s possible.’ Aristides forced himself to smile dismissively. ‘Even if they don’t, that’s no reason not to finish training Cerberus. He’s done well since you found him, master Marcus.’
Marcus nodded. It was over a year since the pedlar had come by the house with his cart filled with old pots, knives, cups and other wares. Cerberus had been chained to the back of the wagon to guard its contents. He had been starved and beaten to make him as vicious as possible, to deter anyone attempting to steal anything from the wagon. Marcus’s mother had taken one look at the contents of the cart and was about to send the pedlar on his way when Marcus intervened. The sight of the dog had broken his young heart.
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