‘The governor’s decided to clear the ground to the north and south of the wall before we strike out into enemy territory. He wants to be sure that our supply line back to the Valley stays open while we dig Calgus out of the hills, so we have to make sure there are no nasty surprises waiting to jump out behind us once we’ve marched north. We’re also to deal with the warband that the Petriana have trapped about ten miles north of here, although there’s still no clear reason why they’d be camped out in such a dangerous spot. So ourselves and the Second Cohort, and the Cugerni, will go north of the wall with Sixth Legion, turn east once we’re clear of the forest and sweep the ground in front of the wall. When we reach the spot where the warband’s waiting for us we’ll split into two groups, one under Tribune Antonius to attack the hill fort and another led by the legatus to form a defensive line to the north and make sure nobody tries to interfere.’
After the briefing he’d spoken with Frontinius, outlining his plan for the next day.
‘I’ve suggested to Legatus Equitius that we take the lead once we’re through the wall gate, and peel off a century to have a quiet wander through the forest and look for any sign of the enemy before meeting the rest of the cohort on the far side. That will get Centurion Corvus safely out of the public eye for another few hours. His men are supposed to be hunters — let’s allow them to do something they ought to be good at.’
Once the Tungrians were well clear of the wall gate Frontinius stepped clear of the column and waved back in the pre-agreed signal. At Marcus’s command the 8th Century peeled off the line of march and stepped on to the twenty-pace strip of ground dividing the road from the forest, cleared of any vegetation to prevent an attacker from falling on marching troops without any warning. The Hamians stood and watched as the column ground past them up the road, the auxiliary cohorts followed by a seemingly endless stream of legion centuries, their layered plate armour marking the difference between them and the auxiliaries that led the column.
‘Your men seem alert enough.’
Marcus turned to find the German, Arminius, at his shoulder, his eyes on the Hamians as they took their short rest break. Casting a careful eye over his men, Marcus was surprised to note that one man in every tent party was watching the forest’s dark wall intently, and ignoring the legion’s parade up the road.
‘Yes, they seem to have absorbed their lesson about keeping watch well enough.’
He stared into the forest, pleased to see that the ground cover between the looming oaks was light enough for his men to pick their way through it with relative ease. At his command, the century shook out into a long line, with ten feet between each man, and at Qadir’s shouted signal they stepped off into the forest to the east of the road with their shields unslung and swords held ready to fight. Once they were fifty paces or so into the forest each man was as good as alone in the gloomy light that managed to penetrate the thick overhead cover, the mass of vegetation all around them dulling the faint sounds of their passage to near-inaudibility. Scouting through the forest with the apparently instinctive caution that had so surprised Marcus the previous night, they hunted through the shadows for an hour before low whistles passed down the line summoned him to the scene of a discovery. Several men were gathered around a patch of scorched earth. Marcus took one look and spoke quietly to his soldiers.
‘You four, all-round defence, ten paces out, and keep your eyes on the trees and your mouths shut. And listen. If a rabbit has a noisy bowel movement anywhere within a mile of here I want to know about it. You and you, signal the century to gather here. Quietly.’
He turned back to the object of their interest to find Arminius squatting down alongside the burnt earth, poking at the ash with his finger.
‘These ashes are cold, but recent. And it’s a big fire, enough for twenty to thirty men.’
Marcus waited until the century were gathered around him, their faces both eager and nervous with the discovery.
‘I want a search of the area around this fire, fingertips in the grass, knives in the soil. Thirty-odd barbarians don’t camp out without leaving some clue as to who they were. And do it in silence, no talking. Raise a hand if you find anything.’
Qadir quickly organised the troops to form a search line and sweep across the area around the fire’s black scar on their hands and knees, searching the ground in front of them with their fingers and probing the soil with their daggers for any small item that might have been dropped and trodden into the earth. After ten minutes a soldier put his hand in the air, his find carried across to Marcus by one of the watch officers. The man held out his hand, showing off a small piece of silver that the centurion took from his palm.
‘Jewellery. Very pretty. Someone’s going to be annoyed when he finds this missing from around his neck.’
A replica axe head, crudely fashioned but still recognisable for what it represented, sat on his palm. He showed Qadir the find.
‘Seen anything like this before?’
His deputy shook his head, staring blankly at the glinting pendant.
‘I have.’
The two men turned to find Arminius staring at the tiny silver ornament, his face creased in concern.
7
It was mid-morning by the time that Felicia was ready to remove the arrow from the wounded cavalry officer. She stood over her patient, his eyes slitted in a deathly pale face as he clung to consciousness with a tenacity that gave her hope for his survival, despite the blood-crusted arrow protruding from his armpit.
‘Decurion? Decurion, can you hear me?’
The exhausted officer’s eyes flickered in her direction, his mouth opening fractionally in a hoarse whisper.
‘I hear you.’ He swallowed painfully, licking his lips.
Felicia knelt by the bed, taking one ice-cold hand in both of her own.
‘My horse…?’
She smiled despite her concern.
‘Your horse, Cornelius Felix, bit two men and kicked several more black and blue while they were getting the arrow out of him, but I’m told he’s happily chewing his way through the fort’s stock of barley even as we speak. And as for you, Decurion, you have a barbarian arrow deep in your left armpit. It seems to have missed your lung, and more importantly the artery that runs through your shoulder down your arm, but it must come out immediately. I need to clean out your wound and prevent the onset of sepsis. You’ve lost too much blood already, and you’ll lose more while I remove the arrow, but to leave it there will probably kill you anyway…’
His lips moved again, the smile touching his eyes this time.
‘Get the blasted thing out now, eh?’
She nodded mutely.
‘Do it, but promise me…’
‘Yes?’
‘If the arm has to come off…?’
‘Yes?’
‘Just kill me. I can’t ride that monster Hades one-handed…’
Shaking her head sadly, she gently squeezed the cavalryman’s right hand.
‘My oath forbids me any such act. We’ll just have to make sure this stays attached to you. Now drink this…’
She put a beaker to his lips and patiently tipped the drink into his mouth in small sips.
‘What is it…?’
‘A mixture of wine, honey and the dried and powdered sap of the poppy flower. It will make you drowsy, or possibly even put you to sleep given the amount of blood you’ve lost. What I have to do to you now is going to hurt considerably more than the pain you’re in at the moment.’