The scout’s brow furrowed slightly.
‘It is perhaps forty or fifty miles from here,’ he replied, deep in thought. ‘The first half of the journey at least will be easy, as we can follow the Mosa as far as Ludico. From there it will be more difficult as we climb and enter the deepest heart of the forest. Travel will be slow and, as well as wandering patrols of Eburones and possibly Segni, the region is notorious for banditry.’
‘Sounds delightful. We’d best get going then.’
* * * * *
‘How far is Espaduno now?’
Samognatos peered into the dense trees ahead, as though he might be able to see the place. Even had it been visible during clear daylight, it would not show itself through the thick foliage in the middle of the night, and the darkness was near absolute here. Were it not for the dancing flames of their fire, they would not be able to see even the men sleeping across the track.
To call this place a clearing would be to over-exaggerate its space. It was simply an area where the trees and undergrowth were less dense and tangling, with enough grassy area for the dozen men to light a fire and lie down. Perhaps some time in the distant past it had been a proper clearing, but trees had invaded the space and turned it into yet another part of the endless dark forest.
‘Perhaps seven more miles,’ the scout replied, warming his hands over the fire and reaching for the salted meat that had been heating in the flames for a while.
Fronto’s eyes played across the clearing nervously as they had every dozen heartbeats since they’d set up here for the night. Nine stones stood in the ‘clearing’. He’d counted them several times. They’d arrived in the inky purple late evening and hurried to make the fire before the last of the light disappeared altogether, the leafy canopy bringing down pitch darkness earlier than the sky intended.
Each stone seemed to be decorated with scenes or figures in that lumpy, misshapen Gallic form when he caught them out of the corner of his eye — especially in the flickering, dancing orange light — but close inspection showed the stones to be plain and unmarked, simply roughly-hewn and with lumps and pits. The whole arrangement made Fronto shudder. The stones looked as though they had been deliberately placed in an oval — an elongated circle reminiscent of a gladiatorial arena. His first thought had been that the place resembled a druidic nemeton, but Samognatos had been adamant that all the features were purely natural and there was nothing sacred about the place.
Fronto still suspected otherwise. An image of the huntress Goddess caught his attention on a granite surface, but had gone when he turned to look at it. He reached up to the figurine of Fortuna hanging around his neck and fondled her repeatedly.
‘We should have gone on through the night.’
Samognatos shook his head. ‘Better to get there in the light. We do not know what to expect, after all.’
Fronto nodded glumly. He’d still have preferred to camp almost anywhere else, but the scout had been right about this being the best position from a purely geographical point of view. The path sloped down both ahead and behind, to one side a deep gulley with a narrow stream provided adequate defence, and on the other side a steep slope upwards prevented easy access. Added to that the fact that it was the most open area, clear of undergrowth, that they’d seen for hours, and it was obviously the place to camp.
It still put the shits up Fronto.
His only consolation was Aurelius, who lay on his blankets close by, his eyes wide and staring as he continually scanned the area for… something. Every time they heard the squeak of a bat — which was remarkably often in this place — the big, tough legionary stiffened and his eyes rolled wildly. He seemed to be more of a nervous wreck than Fronto.
‘How are you intending to play it when we approach?’ Palmatus asked from nearby, where he gnawed on a meaty bone.
‘Diplomatically, I think. I’ve been pondering the problem. There are only thirteen of us now, and Espaduno being an Eburone oppidum and current home to one of their kings, I think we can assume a reasonable population. We’ll be outnumbered and they have every advantage.’
‘How can we be diplomatic, though? What can we offer?’
‘That depends on what they want. Is Cativolcus here to make a deal with Ambiorix, or for less amiable purposes. If it’s the former, we have nothing. If the latter, we can offer a helping hand. Either way, we have no standing orders against Cativolcus, and we can deal with him on a fair and straight level. I think we go in, hands up and honest, telling him that we’re after Ambiorix’s head but we have no interest in him, and might even be able to broker a deal between him and Caesar if it plays out right.’
‘Caesar may be concentrating on Ambiorix,’ Palmatus said, shaking his head, ‘but Cativolcus led his men in that same revolt. Caesar won’t countenance peace with him, and he’ll know that.’
‘Perhaps. But I think diplomacy and offering of aid is the way to go. We cannot take on a whole oppidum of the Eburones with thirteen men, after all.’
Palmatus nodded his agreement.
‘What is this place like?’ Fronto asked Samognatos.
The scout shrugged. ‘I have only visited once, and that was many years ago. Espaduno is not a fortress, but a sacred site. It lies in a valley in the deepest of Arduenna’s woods. Its defences are meagre, if I remember correctly — none of our people would ever attack such a sacred site in the heart of Arduenna’s realm, so defences are hardly necessary. There are sacred springs and more than one nemeton.’
‘Great,’ muttered Aurelius close by. ‘The bat-witch Goddess’ home, eh?’
Fronto shot him a warning look, though could only admit to sharing the man’s trepidation. Samognatos shook his head. ‘Arduenna lives everywhere in these forests. It is all her home, and you need not fear her. Our druids have interceded with her on your behalf. If you had not the goodwill of the Goddess, we would all have been dead long before this.’
‘Somehow that does not provide me with a deep, warm feeling of comfort, Samognatos.’
‘What was that?’ yelped Aurelius.
‘It was a bloody bat, man. Stop panicking at every squeak.’
‘That wasn’t a bat.’ The legionary threw off his cloak and reached for the sheathed sword lying nearby. ‘I’ve heard a million million bats this past few weeks. That’s not a bat.’
Fronto had heard nothing unusual, yet something in Aurelius’ voice had triggered action, and now he stood, reaching for his own blade and hissing it from the sheath.
‘Did you hear it that time?’ Aurelius asked quietly.
‘No.’ Fronto shook his head and began to relax. ‘You’re hearing things, you big superstitious lump.’
‘No. I heard…’
He was cut off by a blood-curdling wail a matter of mere paces away from them. Fronto, Palmatus, Samognatos and Aurelius’ heads all whipped around to peer off into the darkness, but the fire that lay between them and the scream ruined their night vision. Stooping, Fronto grasped one of the flaming branches from the fire by the dry, cold end and tossed it as hard as he could towards the big stone that loomed in the rough direction of the shriek. None of the men had chosen to sleep too close to the stones, so he was reasonably assured of not setting fire to a man in his blankets if he aimed for one.
Sparks flew from the branch in a spray as it bounced off the stone and landed in the grass, instantly illuminating the far side of the ‘clearing’.
Fronto stared in horror at Luxinio’s face. His eyes were wide with shock, his mouth open in a scream that had died away as his head rose, while the rest of him fell away to the earth, severed at the throat-apple.
The head, strings of crimson gore hanging from its ragged neck, was gripped by the dark, tightly-curled Greek hair. The orange glow faintly illuminated his killer, who stood behind him, glistening pink sword blade still raised. Fronto felt his bowels loosen slightly as he realised the creature had a wolf’s head on a human body.