The pursuers had caught up with them, for the trail was not a hard one to follow. They came a bit closer now, so that a few times Ferox glimpsed them. They were both hooded and cloaked, riding greys. Later in the day he saw a blur, much further away, like a shadow on the hills, though moving against the wind, of several dozen horsemen at least. Otherwise they mostly saw shepherds leading their flocks down from the high pastures, and drovers with herds, many of the animals destined for slaughter to feed the tribe through the winter months.
Drizzle grew stronger and turned into driving rain as they reached the lands of the Cornovii, and the bad weather persisted day after day. Some of the Batavians muttered when Crispinus told them that they were not stopping at Viroconium. Longinus’ face was expressionless, although later that evening he followed Ferox when he left the camp and wandered down near the stream. Each man carried a dolabra and after making a suitable hole in the ground they lowered their trousers and squatted. Ferox smiled at the thought that it was just like being in a fort, until the sour memory of the filthy corpse at Vindolanda came to mind.
‘You reckon he knows?’ the one-eyed veteran asked.
The rain meant Ferox had not seen any of their pursuers for days, but he guessed what Longinus meant. ‘Hasn’t said anything, and you know how he talks. Maybe he’s guessed?’
‘So either he isn’t surprised, isn’t worried, or reckons he can keep ahead.’
‘Aye, that’s how I see it.’
‘The ones behind are cavalry, no doubt about it.’ Longinus sensed some surprise at his tone of certainty. ‘I may only have one eye, but I can see straight. It’s the way they move. Army or close enough. Not sure about the others. Our lad Arcanus isn’t the brightest and not one to speak out of turn to a nobleman, but he’s spotted them and bound to say something soon.’ Arcanus was the duplicarius or ‘double-pay’ soldier in charge of the detachment of Batavians. He was neat, reasonably efficient and obligingly willing to obey any command. Other than that, he was not a man to be noticed in a crowd. From the start Ferox had wondered why they did not have a decurion in charge. Still, with the flap on and the legate charging off to Verulamium, there may not have been any available. That was the straightforward answer and he suspected it was wrong.
Longinus whistled softly, one of those army songs as old as the legions, and for a while this was the only sound. ‘Reckon a couple of us could hang back and scrag them?’ the veteran said at last.
‘Reckon I could.’
‘Are you going to?’
‘I’m a prisoner. It’s not up to me.’ Ferox finished and picked up some of the leaves he had gathered.
‘You didn’t kill him, though, did you?’
Ferox said nothing.
‘Little shit deserved it.’ He glanced around to make sure they were alone. ‘She told you about the trouble he was causing her. Did she say what he wanted?’
Ferox shrugged. ‘Money, I guess.’
‘Oh, that, yes, he did, but he wanted more.’ The one eye was hard as flint. ‘What else does a man want from a woman? He wanted to take it soon, but wanted to enjoy her fear and hate first.’
Ferox froze as he was fastening his belt. For a while he stared at nothing. His hands clenched until the knuckles went white. ‘Wish I had killed him,’ he said softly.
‘Well, someone beat you to it. If he was trying it on with her there were probably others. That’s the way I see it. One of them got to him. Thetatus.’ Longinus drew a finger across his throat. Army clerks when they updated a unit’s rolls marked the names of dead men with the letter theta. It was not long before soldiers turned that into a slang word for died.
They heard Crispinus calling for Ferox. ‘Better go.’
‘Aye.’ Longinus grunted as he stood up and shook his head. ‘I’m too old to be living like this. Maybe too old for living. What was it Caesar said, “I have lived long enough for either nature or glory”? These days I know how he felt.’
‘Better than being dead.’
‘Maybe. Sometimes it feels more like punishment.’ The veteran grinned. ‘If it is then I’d better commit some more crimes to make it worthwhile.’
‘You could always start another rebellion.’
‘Nah, done that before, my lad. No future in it.’ He finished cleaning himself and hitched up his trousers. ‘And by the sound of things they don’t need me. Perhaps I’ll just look for whichever god keeps raining on us and try and kill him.’
Crispinus shouted again, the voice a bit nearer. ‘I’d better see what he wants,’ Ferox said as he swilled his hands in the brook. The tribune appeared, trailing the duplicarius.
‘Ah, there you are. Been looking for you. Carry on, trooper.’ Longinus was holding his dolabra and still had filthy leaves in the other hand, so he gave the tribune a respectful nod. ‘You too, Arcanus.’ The duplicarius was lean for a Batavian, although far taller than the diminutive tribune. ‘Back to camp and tell everyone we will set out two hours before dawn.’
‘Sir.’ There was great no enthusiasm in Arcanus’ voice.
Longinus washed his hands and then sauntered back to camp.
‘Cerialis thinks very highly of that man,’ the tribune said once they were out of earshot. ‘And we know he can fight, but I do wonder whether he was the right choice for a journey like this. There’s something about him that isn’t right. Oh well, no matter.’ Ferox doubted that the young aristocrat knew who the one-eyed trooper really was, although it was hard to be sure. ‘The duplicarius strikes me as steady enough, and wholly lacking in imagination, so eminently suitable for the task at hand. But it does make me think that he may be right in his belief that we are being followed. That would not surprise me, and since you appear unmoved, I am guessing that he is right.’
Ferox told the tribune what he had seen.
‘And it did not occur to you to say something, centurion?’
‘Sir?’
‘Never mind. You are not sure whether the pair of riders scout for the others?’
‘Do you wish me to find out, my lord?’
Crispinus sniffed. ‘Not yet. We shall hope to lose them in the mountains.’
‘Mountains, my lord? I understood we were heading for Mediolanum and then Deva.’
‘No longer. If Acco is on our trail then we must make haste. You shall find us a route through the mountains as straight as you can. It’s only the third day after the Kalends of October, so we should not have much trouble with the weather. I have great faith in your skills as tracker and guide and we can seek help from the locals.’
‘The Ordovices?’ Ferox tried and failed to keep the contempt from his voice. ‘They are not generous folk or trustworthy.’
Crispinus was dismissive. ‘Agricola taught them a hard lesson and they have not made much trouble since then. It is the fastest and most stealthy route. If we can reach Segontium before anyone knows where we are going then I’ll be much happier.’
‘I’m sure Acco will be pleased once he realises we are going this way.’ Ferox hesitated for a moment before he added, ‘My lord.’
‘Captivity has made you even more surly, Flavius Ferox. My hope is that he will not realise until it is too late. While we might get help in a town or from Legio XX at Deva, we might get delays as well, and gossip. At the moment it is hard to know who to trust, so I shall rely on my own wits – and your skill and knowledge as well. This is my decision.’
‘I’m sure that will be a great consolation if the Ordovices cut off our balls, my lord.’
For an instant Crispinus’ eyes flashed with anger before the charming, impassive face of the politician reasserted itself. ‘Carry on, centurion.’
‘Sir.’