‘We’ve been scouting the ground to the north of the north road crossroads, Legatus, and keeping out of the way, if you know what I mean…’
Equitius nodded sagely.
‘A good choice by your prefect, given the continued interest in your possible whereabouts. And…?’
Marcus handed him the tiny pendant, waiting as the other man turned it over in his hand.
‘A piece of barbarian jewellery. It means nothing to me…’
The centurion took the piece back, dropping it into the pouch on his belt.
‘Nor to me, Legatus, but Prefect Scaurus’s bodyguard tells us he’s seen another exactly the same north of the wall. Far to the north…’
Equitius nodded again, a new understanding dawning in his eyes.
‘I see. Well, in that case I won’t detain you. I’d imagine that your prefect will know well enough what to make of this interesting snippet of intelligence without my interference, given his experience. Gentlemen…’
He gestured to the land beyond the legion’s lead cohort.
‘Your comrades are out there, about a mile in front of us. They shouldn’t be too hard to find, they’re the fellows poking their spears into every bush on a two-mile front.’
As chance would have it, the first unit the century encountered was the 2nd Tungrian cohort. Mindful of the warnings not to advertise his presence, Marcus felt a frisson of uncertainty as he looked for an officer to ask where the first cohort might be found. The centurion he approached, rendered anonymous by the stark lines of his helmet’s cheek guards, took one look and grinned triumphantly.
‘I remember you, we’ve met before! You’re… Two Knives, that’s it!’
The Tungrians built a hurried camp alongside the 2nd Cohort, the Cugerni cohort from Aelian Bridge and three cohorts of the 6th Legion. The turf walls were raised quickly, and to a foot less than the regulation height since the prefects wanted their men to be fresh for the fight. First Spear Frontinius sent his men to dinner once their section of the rampart was complete. Marcus sat with Qadir and Antenoch, the latter casting dark stares at a chastened Lupus, who had been discovered, hungry and thirsty, beneath a tent on the century’s wagon.
‘The little bastard must have sneaked himself on to the cart when we were getting ready to pull out from Noisy Valley.’ The clerk’s exasperation with the child’s desperation to be with the century had been all too evident, as had Morban’s mortification when his presence had been discovered. Lupus had still been wet eyed an hour after his discovery, as the two men had taken turns to tell him just how stupid he was.
‘I caught the little sod grinning to himself when he thought no one was looking,’ Morban had confided to Marcus, ‘so I clipped his ear again to teach the cheeky bugger a lesson.’
The child was sitting solemn faced between Antenoch and Qadir, the object of great curiosity for the rest of the century, who kept wandering past in ones and twos until their attention became tiresome, and their centurion ordered them into their tents.
‘There’s no way to get him back to the Valley,’ Marcus had told a tight-lipped Antenoch, ‘you’ll just have to keep an eye on him.’
‘And when we run into the blue-noses?’
‘He’ll just have to hide somewhere.’
The clerk had shrugged angrily, dragging the protesting child to his tent by one ear with dark threats of fearsome retribution for any further infringement of the rules laid down for him. First Spear Frontinius, surprisingly enough, had been more relaxed on the subject than anyone else in the boy’s chain of command. Sitting at his meal with Julius, he had shrugged when the subject was raised.
‘What can we do about it now? Nothing. The lad’s going to end up as a soldier in any case, he’s just getting an earlier start than the rest of us. Anyway, he’ll be safe enough for tonight at least. I doubt that anyone’s going to be bothering us with the rest of the Sixth less than two miles to the north and in a particularly bad temper, given that we get to take revenge for the Frisians while they get to stand guard.’
Julius smiled sourly.
‘I’ll happily swap, if that’ll make them happier. Most of them are replacements for the men that died at Lost Eagle, and we’ve already seen one decent fight this summer…’
Frontinius laughed quietly.
‘It doesn’t work that way, though, does it? We’re blooded, as are the boys from the Sixth who’ll be fighting alongside us. Legatus Equitius has put the first team into this fight, so it’s up to us to justify his confidence.’
Julius shook his head, squinting into the setting sun’s dying rays.
‘Just as long as the bloody Sixth’s cohorts actually come to the fight.’ He stretched his massive frame, tired from the day’s march. ‘So what did young Corvus find in the woods that was so significant?’
Frontinius shook his head.
‘No idea. Some piece of jewellery or other. The prefect took one look and went into a huddle with his man the German. He’s gone over to the Sixth’s main body for a chat with the legatus, so doubtless we’ll find out soon enough. Anyway, off to dinner with you, and then get your lads’ heads down for the night. We’ll be up before dawn, and I want everyone nice and fresh.’
In the quiet time after dinner, as the troops made their last preparations for battle before turning in for the night, a strange officer appeared in the Tungrian lines. Following directions from the patrolling sentries, he made his way to the 8th Century’s row of tents and sought out Marcus. The two men stood talking in the camp’s torchlight for a few minutes, then clasped their arms before the stranger turned to head back to his own part of the camp. The young centurion watched him go for a moment, then walked across to the 1st Century’s section of the camp, seeking out the first spear with a worried look on his face. Frontinius listened impassively to his story, then sent for Julius.
‘You met a pair of Second Cohort centurions at Arab Town, when you went to pick up our replacements?’
Julius scratched his head, still itching after a full day beneath his crested helmet.
‘Decent enough lads, as I recall. Tertius and…’
‘Appius.’
‘Yes, that’s it. Our brother officer Marcus has just had a visit from Tertius. They met on the march today, by pure good fortune. Tertius wanted to warn Marcus that the Second Cohort’s prefect is convinced he’s the son of a disgraced Roman senator, and that he’s recruited this Appius to find him and deliver proof of his whereabouts. The Bear told me that he was around our lines at Noisy Valley only a few minutes after I sent the Eighth out on night exercise.’
Julius frowned, shaking his head at the apparent inevitability of the net closing around them.
‘After which Prefect Furius will denounce the fugitive, take the credit for his discovery, and do his level best to have us all nailed up alongside Two Knives?’
Frontinius nodded.
‘Exactly. From what I’ve heard he might even have a go at sticking it to Prefect Scaurus.’
Julius frowned.
‘Why would this Tertius be so keen to tell us this? Surely he’d be better off just keeping his mouth shut?’
Frontinius acknowledged the point, reaching for his helmet and vine stick.
‘It’s a longer story than we’ve got time for now. Suffice to say that Centurion Tertius has quite a good reason not to be all that fond of his new prefect. I’m off to the Sixth Legion’s lines now, there’s a command conference. We’ll finish this discussion later, but for the time being let’s keep Centurion Corvus under as much cover as possible.’
The detachment’s senior officers gathered in the command tent, waiting for Tribune Antonius to make his entrance. The auxiliary cohorts’ prefects and first spears rubbed shoulders with three hard-faced legion senior centurions and a pair of junior tribunes, the latters’ equestrian status clear from the thin purple strip on both men’s tunics. Antonius entered the tent a moment later, and every eye was upon the senior tribune as he walked to the briefing table to announce his intended plan of attack. He stepped up to the table, pointing to the rough map sketched on its surface and speaking in a clear, confident voice.