Since then I had swum whenever I could, though opportunity for leisure when you ruled over five hundred cut-throats was rare. ‘Yes Gerulf,’ I said through chattering teeth, ‘I swam.’ Staggering through the central walkway of the deck from the stern to the bow, I nodded to the men on the row benches to my left and right. A rower always faced away from the direction of travel – it was easier, to row this way, but also I thought better for the mentality of the rowers, for they did not have to see the endless blue with nothing but the sky kissing the water over the horizon to dampen their spirits.
Slowly my heartbeat softened, and over the roar of the wind I heard the men raising their voices in song. Nothing will fill your ego to brimming point like your sworn men chanting your name.
We were sailing north, and for a moment I was tempted to change direction and sail to see the white cliffs of the island of Britannia. I wanted to see it, the fabled land Rome had conquered, said to be full of druids and giants. Men said that over the northern horizon there was nothing but the ends of the earth. Roman soldiers would say they have stood on the Wall of Hadrian and seen the green landscape roll into the ocean. There was nothing else there, Rome had conquered as far north as north would go. I did not believe that, not for a moment. There were lands to the north of Germania: frozen all year round, the sun not rising above the towering mountains for weeks at a time. I had not been there myself, but had traded with men who sailed their ships south and beached on our northern shingle. They spoke a similar language to us, though perhaps even coarser and filled with more grunts. They were tribal, the same as us, and often waged wars among themselves, as one chief sought dominance over another. I had half a mind to sail there, see if I could earn myself some coin. Though the lure of vengeance turned me back south.
We turned the ships as the sun was at its zenith, as we rowed back toward the Rhine and battle. Nightfall saw us back in the estuary we had sailed out of. We slowed then, the oars dipping lightly in the rolling waves. We had to sneak past Ulpia Noviomagus like shadows in the darkness. We had killed a lot of men and caused Rome much damage. I did not think there would be more armed men inside those walls, but I did not want to be spotted by chance. My plan depended on witnesses from that slaughter telling whichever legion commander who marched to their rescue that we had sailed north and into the open sea. That way any Roman fleet looking for us would be patrolling the coast, maybe sailing over to Britannia. No one would be checking the Rhine.
We ghosted onto the great river. I had a trusted man in every ship, experienced in these waters and they steered us masterly through the shallows and past the rocks that had sunk many a good man and his wealth. I had promised them gold if they could just get us safely to Colonia Ulpia Traiana. So far, they had not let me down. We had pillaged the armour, weapons and clothes from the slaughtered Cananefate’s. I ordered my men to change now, as we would soon encounter Roman patrols. We looked unconvincing to say the least, but I hoped we would not be near a unit of Roman soldiers long enough for them to notice.
I had changed into the uniform of a Roman Trierarchus, and should we encounter any Roman forces, it would be me that spoke with them. I was confident I could pass for a Cananefate officer as my Latin was passable, in truth probably better than many of the German auxiliaries.
The Rhine is a wide river, large enough for our three ships to sail abreast unless we encountered any traffic. There was none that morning, and I found myself enjoying the tranquillity of the journey. I stood at the ship’s prow and gazed longingly at the western bank. It seemed so different to the Roman bank to my right. There were no houses, no smoke rising from chimneys. It was just land, an endless green landscape rolling away to the horizon, where it kissed the deep blue of the sky.
I was lost in its beauty when a shout from behind woke me from my daze. ‘Ships, lord!’ Gerulf yelled, pointing south down the river. I turned my gaze and saw two Liburnians rowing hard to intercept us. ‘You remember the plan?’ I asked Gerulf, staring intently into his eyes. They were cool, calm, it pleased me to see. ‘Yes, lord,’ he said, turning to his men, ensuring each in turn knew what was expected.
I ordered Gerulf to return to his own ship, and called to Adalhard over the cacophony of the oars hitting the flat of the water, and the men readying themselves to fight if need be. ‘Adalhard, you know the plan?’
Adalhard just nodded, waving casually in my direction. I felt my dislike for the man grow, to the point where I wanted nothing more than to leap the gap between the ships and run him through with my blade. ‘Adalhard!’ I shouted again. ‘Do you understand what you need to do?’ He must have caught the venom in my tone, for he turned back to me, his expression suddenly sheepish. ‘Yes, lord. You needn’t worry about me.’ Then he turned away, slapping men on the back and gripping others wrists. Gods, but I hated that man. I vowed there and then that one way or another, he would not last as a leader in my army.
The two ships were close now, they slowed and each turned so their prow was facing a river bank. They were blocking our path, the only way through now would be to speed up to ramming speed and plough through them. It would have been tempting, if I’d had crews of experienced oarsman, and if I myself had any experience of naval warfare. Instead I ordered our ships to slow and took my one forward alone.
‘That’s far enough!’ Shouted an officer in a pristine blue tunic, I couldn’t make out his face under the dazzling light of his iron helmet, which was decorated with bronze. Great plumes of red and blue sprouted from the top. He looked impressive. ‘State your business!’ he yelled, his voice carried well over the water.
I breathed deep to slow my heart, rehearsing the words before I spoke. ‘My name is Trierarchus Hadrianus Arimnestos,’ I said, giving him the name of a German auxiliary commander I had killed in Pannonia a few years ago. ‘Commander of the fleet based at Ulpia Noviomagus.’ I was taking a huge risk and I knew it. I had no notion of who this commander was, or if he would have any inkling of who the actual commander of the fleet I had stolen was.
‘Well met, Trierarchus. I am Tribune Aurelius Castus, on detached duty from The Twenty Second. We heard you boys were in a bit of a scrap, and I’ve been ordered north to investigate.’ He said nothing more, letting the words hang in the air.
The silence was overbearing, and I sought to calm my thrumming heart, seeking the words that would see us gain passage through their blockade. ‘That we have, tribune. Tribesmen from across the river took Ulpia Noviomagus under the cover of night. My Navarchus is still there, helping the citizens to pick up the pieces. He sent me south with orders to report to the Governor at Colonia Ulpia Traiana.’
Tribune Castus digested this slowly. ‘Who were they, the tribesmen?’
I shrugged. ‘Didn’t ask! Just fought till they were all dead.’
‘So none survive?’
I shook my head. ‘We slaughtered the lot of them.’
Castus nodded. ‘Rumour has it Alaric and his Ravensworn are operating this side of the river, heard anything about that?’
Gods above! Was all of Rome talking about little old me? ‘No Tribune. I’ve heard his name spoken though. They say he is…ferocious.’ I can’t even begin to tell you how hard it was to keep the grin from my face as I said that.
‘I’ve heard that too. They say he has five hundred men, a sizeable force. Rome wants him taken care of. I’ll let you through but the Governor is no longer in Traiana, he’s gone inland. My Legate is there though, you can report to him.’
I saluted and ordered my men to start rowing, waving the other two ships to join us. I wanted to be away from this Castus and his men as soon as I could. The two Roman ships parted and I sailed right through the middle, keeping my eyes fixed on the river ahead, and trying not to look smug.
TWELVE
Colonia Ulpia Traiana is a fortress, a colossus of timber and stone. From more than a mile away you can see the wooden parapets and the towers that contain the dreaded ballistae. Our small squadron docked on an
empty wooden jetty. I vaulted from my Liburnian, trying to feel as confident as I looked about having my feet on Roman land.
Two soldiers with light blue shields that depicted the Roman god Neptune holding a trident in one hand and the reins of two horses that pulled his chariot across the seas in the other approached me along the jetty.
‘Why are their shields blue?’ Adalhard asked, appearing at my shoulder. ‘I thought they were all red?’ He asked, motioning to the red oval shield he held in his left hand.
‘They are mostly,’ I said absently. ‘The Thirtieth are a relatively new legion, Trajan formed them for his war with Dacia. Their patron deity is Neptune, who is the Roman god of the sea. And what colour is the sea?’ I asked with all the sarcasm I could muster.
‘Blue,’ Adalhard said with a sigh, knowing when he was beaten.
‘Who’s a clever boy then?’ I spat at him. ‘Now stand back, and let the grown-ups do the talking, alright?’ I moved away without another word, swaggering up to the two soldiers.
‘State your rank and business!’ one of them barked as I got within ten paces of their spear tips.
‘Trierarchus Hadrianus Arimnestos, here to see your Legatus.’ I said in my finest Latin, which really wasn’t that fine at all.
‘Trierarchus,’ the soldier saluted. ‘I’m optio Aquila, fourth cohort, second century. Is the legate expecting you sir?’
‘I don’t believe so. We have come from Ulpia Noviomagus. We were attacked the night before last by a tribal horde from over the river. My Navarchus has asked me to come and report to the governor, though I understand from the patrol I ran into on the way down here led by Tribune Castus that he is no longer here. I wish to see the legate in his absence.’
The mention of the patrol led by the tribune seemed to visibly calm the optio and his companion, who lowered their shields and eased the grips on their javelins. ‘Come with me sir, I’ll see if the legate is available for you.’
I followed the man and his companion through a small wooden gate and into the fortress proper. ‘Oh,’ I said as if it was an afterthought, ‘can a few of my men come in and grab some supplies? Running a bit low, and not sure if we’ll be going straight home.’ The optio shrugged, removing his helmet to reveal a balding head.
‘Course sir, we’re all friends, ain’t we?’ He smiled and I smiled back. I gestured to Adalhard who turned and whistled as he walked back to the ships. A troop of men jumped from the boats to land on the wooden jetty, amphora and chests were passed down after them. The optio saw nothing unusual in this and smiled again before asking me to accompany him.
‘Adalhard, you oversee the supplies,’ I said with a wink. ‘I’ll come and find you once I’ve reported to the Legate.’
I followed the optio through a narrow street. The cobbles were smooth beneath my feet and as I gazed up at the red brick on the walls, I longed to be able to build like the Romans. Our wooden halls and thatched rooves would last a lifetime if built right, but walls like these would outlive even Rome itself.
We entered the Principia, the Romans headquarters building, stationed in the centre of the fortress. Red cloaked legionaries snapped to attention as the optio and myself came into view. It startled me, at first, then I remembered I was in the uniform of a Roman officer. I nodded to the men, made small talk as the optio spoke to a clerk, enquiring if the legate was available. ‘The legate won’t be available for an hour or so, I’m afraid sir,’ Aquila said with an apologetic shrug.
‘Fine by me,’ I replied, ‘mind if I wait here?’ Aquila seemed confused at my response, as if he had never been asked what he ‘minded’ by a superior before. He probably hadn’t. ‘Yes sir,’ he said unsurely. ‘There’s an officer’s mess down the hall, should be pretty quiet this time of day. You can wait there if you wish? I’ll make sure the clerk’s know to inform the legate you are here as soon as he’s back.’
I nodded my thanks and moved off down a shadow filled corridor. I padded slowly, the hobnails of my pillaged boots ringing off the timber floor. I was half way down when I saw a door open slightly ajar on my right, whispered voices coming from inside. I crept closer, couldn’t help myself really. The voices were urgent, and I could see the shadows of frantic hand gestures as two men argued frantically in hushed tones.
‘It’s him I tell you!’ the first man said. He looked to be tall and slender, his hair long and unbound. Not a military man then. ‘How could you possibly know?’ came the reply. He was most definitely military, I could tell just from his tone. When I peeped through the gap I saw a man in his early fifties, balding head and a long, strong Roman nose. He wasn’t in armour, but wore a standard military tunic, belted at the waist.
‘I saw him once in Pannonia,’ the slender man said, ‘when I was attached to the Fourteenth legion. That’s the man that fought under the Raven banner, mark my words.’
‘That was a long time ago my friend, and you saw him but as briefly then as you did today. Many Germans look similar, they have the same build, and all wear their hair longer than yours! Not to mention their beards! No, Suetonius, this cannot be our man, you’re jumping at shadows-’
‘It’s not the shadows you should fear, but what hides within.’ I purred, stalking into that room like a lion into a flock of sheep. I knew I had the beating of both men – that if it came to blades their deaths would be swift and bloody. Both men looked at me with gaping mouths and wide eyes. I rasped my pillaged short sword from its scabbard and showed them my teeth. ‘Gentlemen,’ I said as I took another pace forward. ‘I hear you’ve been looking for me.’
‘It’s…it’s him!’ The man named Suetonius squealed like a wounded pig. I saw him clearly for the first time and he appeared to be every inch the soft aristocrat. His skin was pale and soft, his eyes a light chestnut brown. He had a slender nose and full red lips, he was so pretty that if you put him in a dress he could have passed for a high class whore. Suetonius scurried back on his heels, hiding himself behind the other man. ‘My name is Alaric, lord of the Ravensworn. And who might you be?’ I asked the question, though in my gut I already knew the answer.
‘Marcus Ovidius Fulvius’, the man said, keeping his eyes fixed on mine and his back as straight as a spear. ‘What are you doing here, Alaric?’
‘What am I doing here? Well, that’s quite a story actually. I was called upon to settle a tribal dispute, far to the north of the Roman border. And do you know what I smelt when I got there?’ I sniffed the air, grimacing as I did. ‘Perfumed skin, oiled hair and gold drenched in German blood. I could smell your trap a mile away. I’ve spent the last few weeks questioning and slaughtering every Roman I can find. So far this productive enterprise has led me to your door.’ I took another step, turning the blade slightly in my hand. It caught the light and iron glimmered into Fulvius’ eyes.
‘And what do you hope to find here, Alaric?’ I watched as his hand crept to his sword hilt.
‘Justice.’ I said.
‘Ha! Justice? Justice for what? For years you and your men have terrorised our borders, killing our soldiers and defiling our women. What justice are you owed?’
‘I didn’t start this war,’ I said. I had moved so close to Fulvius my beard nearly brushed his nose. ‘But you can be damn well sure I’m going to end it.’
‘And how did Rome start it Alaric? What have we ever done to you?’ I could sense his grip on his blade now. I felt the tautness of his hand as it gripped the bone handle, saw the tension in his shoulders as he braced himself to release the iron from where it slept.
‘Twenty years ago, Fulvius. Rome began this war twenty years ago.’
‘Twenty years is a long time to hold a grudge,’ Fulvius said in a whisper.
‘Twenty years is a long time to grieve for your mother. Twenty years of sleepless nights, lying awake, remembering my mother’s screams as Roman soldiers took turns to rape her, whilst my father and I were made to watch.’ I hawked and spat, right in his face. To his credit Fulvius didn’t even flinch, he j
ust let it settle on his cheek.
‘Which legion?’
‘The Fourteenth Gemina,’ I said. ‘Martial and Victorious I believe you Romans call them.’ Fulvius nodded, an expression I almost took for sympathy spread slowly across his face.
‘A fine legion,’ he said. ‘But even the finest men get…well, over excited at times.’
‘Over excited?’ I remarked. ‘They slaughtered a village of innocents, raped every woman and girl and left the men for dead. It was an unprovoked attack, far to the north of Germania. They had no business there.’
‘Now be fair, Alaric. Rome would not have sanctioned an attack out of nothing. There must have been some act of violence from your people towards Rome. What tribe are you from?’
He was trying to delay me, and I knew it. His hand was now fully wrapped round the hilt of his sword, and in the silence after he finished speaking I could hear the whisper of a rasp as he eased it from its scabbard. ‘Why are you coming for me?’ I asked, ‘tell me who wants me dead and I will make your end quick.’ Suetonius squeaked in the background. He was already dead, there was no other exit from the small chamber apart from the door behind me, and there was no way he was going to put up a fight. Fulvius, on the other hand…
‘Everyone wants you dead!’ Fulvius erupted, taking a nimble step backwards and finally unleashing his iron. ‘You raid into our lands, you interfere with our affairs across the border. You are a pest, a Nithing if what I hear is to be believed-
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