The Roman searched the foliage to the left of the road, and quickly picked out the thin form of an Aeduan archer, standing a mere thirty paces away and taking no pains to conceal himself while he notched another arrow. The archer must have been completely confident that his next arrow would fly true, because he made no move to run. Even after the Roman prompted his horse into action and charged straight for him, the archer simply drew back his bow and calmly aimed. The Roman could see the blue eyes of the bowman, even at this distance, and he kept focused on them, and them only. When he saw the archer’s eyes blink, he quickly jerked his horse to the left. The arrow sailed past, well clear of him, and he felt an instant moment of elation. He was charging at the archer now, as the man reached for his next arrow. There was no way the archer could get it notched and loosed in time. He had him, and he knew it. He raised his sword, preparing to smash down on the pathetic man’s head, but then several things ran through his mind at once. The fact that he could now see two horses tied up behind the archer, where there stood only one man. That gurgling sound behind him that told him the arrow that had missed him had not been aimed at him at all, but was now firmly lodged in the neck of his companion, its intended target. The serene nature of the archer who appeared not the least bit concerned that a cavalry gladius was about to cleave his head in two. All of these things raced through his head in the space of a heartbeat, and he came to the correct comprehension of them a moment too late. From seemingly out of nowhere an axe head appeared in front of him. It had been swung by someone concealed behind a tree, and it struck him with full force in the chest, crashing through his breastplate and knocking him clean from his mount.
As Divitiacus allowed a moment for his arms to recover from delivering the hammer-like blow, he saw the Roman fall to the ground flat on his back. The Roman’s body twitched once, and then went limp. He was dead, but the other Roman, the one that now had one of Adalbert’s arrows protruding from his neck and another in his thigh, was still alive. He, too, had fallen from his mount and was flailing about trying to remove the arrow that had severed his windpipe.
Divitiacus bounded over to him and knocked the man’s hand away from the shaft.
“What deal did you make with the Nervii, you bastard?” Divitiacus snarled as he stood on the Roman’s chest and twisted the shaft in his neck. “Why did Valens send you here? What happened to Lucius Domitius? Tell me, or I’ll cut your balls off!”
The Roman growled in pain, gurgling blood and spit, but he made no attempt to speak. His eyes stared back into the Aeduan chieftain’s with nothing but contempt and hatred.
Seeing that he would get no further with the Roman, Divitiacus ended the man’s suffering with a single, lightning-quick swing of his axe.
Divitiacus and Adalbert searched the bodies, and the saddle pouches of the horses. While searching the Roman whose chest had collapsed under Divitiacus’s axe, Adalbert found a small paper, folded carefully and tucked away in the man’s tunic. The paper appeared blank at a first glance, but upon further examination, Divitiacus found that it contained a collection of Greek letters written in faint ink, almost invisible unless held at the right angle to the light. The characters were arranged in columns. Divitiacus knew immediately what it was.
“The cipher!” he cried aloud.
“The what?” Adalbert asked in confusion, befuddled at his chieftain’s reaction.
Divitiacus did not answer. His mind whirled as he considered his options. The dead man at his feet was a fool to have ever carried such a damning document on his person. Divitiacus was convinced that the cipher would unlock the message he had found on the dead Nervii officer and then had presented to Caesar. This was the final proof that the senator was involved in some kind of malicious plot. But was it a plot to betray Caesar? Perhaps this Senator Valens was communicating with some double agent of the Nervii, and this foray into enemy lands was meant to ensnare the Nervii rather than to go into league with them. If that was the case, then Divitiacus may have just killed two loyal Romans and may have bungled a plot to undermine the Nervii.
The contents of the message would provide the conclusive evidence, either way. Unfortunately, he had left the message with Caesar, and who knew what the proconsul had done with it.
“How long would it take you to reach the Roman column?” he said, turning to Adalbert.
“Going back the way we came? A day, maybe more.”
“And if you cut a more direct path?”
“Across the wild?” The scout shrugged. “Maybe more, maybe less. It all depends on how many marshes I have to go through, and how many of those hedges I have to go around.”
Divitiacus nodded, and then handed the document to him. “Then take whatever path you think best, but ride as fast as you can and get that document in Caesar’s hands before the sun sets tomorrow. Is that clear?”
Adalbert nodded as he folded and tucked away the paper.
“Guard it with your life,” Divitiacus said firmly. “And be discreet about gaining an audience with Caesar. No doubt, that senator is watching his every move. He’s sure to be monitoring all of Caesar’s visitors. You will raise less suspicion than if I were to deliver it.”
“You are not coming, my lord?”
“No,” Divitiacus said simply, without expounding. “Now, be off!”
Adalbert nodded, and, after stowing his bow, jumped into the saddle and rode off at full gallop.
Divitiacus did not bother to watch him go. He hastily hid the Roman bodies, and then he, too, mounted and kicked his horse back onto the path. He did not, however, take the path back the way they had come, as Adalbert had. Instead, he continued on in the direction that would take him deeper into the Nervii lands.
He was certain Valens was a traitor, and that his success would mean disaster for the Aedui. The cipher was one thing, but whatever it might reveal, Divitiacus was sure the senator could talk his way out of any culpability in the matter. On the other hand, the senator had a dark and dirty little secret, something that could seal his political fate forever. Lucius Domitius knew that secret. Why else would the senator have gone to such great lengths to do away with him? There was a chance that Lucius was still alive, somewhere out there in the hands of the Nervii.
Divitiacus was determined to find him, even if it meant risking his own life.
XVII
When Lucius awoke, the guards were gone. He woke to the face of a boy, looking at him quizzically. The boy seemed to notice that he was awake, but said nothing and continued to clean his wounds.
Lucius remembered being dragged to this place, a poorly lit hut that seemed much bigger than the other huts, and then being pushed into a corner, where he was continuously watched by both guards who sat grimly at a nearby table drinking beer. The howls of the mustering army had resounded outside and had nearly made Lucius’s throbbing head split. He had not slept in days, it seemed, and eventually he had faded off to sleep.
Now, as the boy dabbed at his head with a cool rag, it was nearly silent outside. Gone were the drums of the host, and he could even hear the sounds of birds and cows through the open window. The late morning sunlight revealed a large open room with chairs and tables and a hearth. The guards were gone. Someone must have removed his chains while he slept because he now wore loose-fitting Belgic trousers. The irons had been fastened onto his ankles again, which would allow him only slight movement for walking, but his hands were now free. It appeared that he and the boy were all alone in the room.