Fronto looked up at the sky.
“Light’s starting to fade. We’ll set off in about an hour and a half. Ingenuus, what d’you think?”
The cavalry prefect shook his head, his eyes still wide with disbelief every time he looked at the others.
“Commander Longinus said he thought I’d be good for this assignment, but he did ask me if I thought I would. He said, and I quote here sir so no offence intended, that ‘the leaders of the Tenth are dangerous, idiotic and possibly insane’. I think I’m beginning to see what he means.”
The other two grinned wildly at him. Velius snorted.
“Don’t have a problem with that. To the Tenth, that’s probably a compliment!”
Fronto laughed.
“Anyway, true confessions aside, have you any ideas?”
Ingenuus shrugged.
“To move three hundred horses quietly and quickly, the only really feasible way is to have three hundred riders standing by. My only suggestion is that the cohort looks after our horses here and the entire ala follows you in on foot, keeping far enough back to prevent discovery. As soon as it’s clear for them, they mount up and ride the horses back here.”
Fronto smiled.
“It’s a plan. More people than I’d usually like to take on a quiet bit of subterfuge, but if it’s the only way, then it’s the only way. Talk to your decurions and arrange it. Have them muster here in an hour dressed the same way as we will be.”
Ingenuus frowned.
“You mean all three of us are going on this loopy adventure, sir? Begging your pardon, but shouldn’t you stay and command the cohort. What happens if you get hurt?”
Fronto grinned wolfishly.
“If you think I’m missing out on a bit of fun like this, you’ve got another thing coming. Anyway, I’m not essential to the daily running of the cohort. That’s what centurions are for.”
As Ingenuus jogged off in the direction of the milling cavalry, Fronto smiled at Velius.
“I know your opinion of the cavalry in general Lucius, but what do you think of the man?”
Velius shrugged.
“He seems to be good at the job. Pleasant in a kind of wet way. He charged in to save his colleagues despite stupid odds, which means he’s brave. Oh, he’s alright. Bit of a prat, but better than most of the mind-blowingly stupid cavalry officers who couldn’t find their own arse with both hands and a map.”
The legate smiled.
“Don’t pull blows Lucius, speak your mind man.”
“I tell it like I see it.”
Fronto tapped his chin.
“I’m thinking of requesting that he be transferred to the Tenth. We don’t have any good cavalry officers. Think I’ll have a word with Longinus when we get back and ask him if he’s happy with that.”
Another shrug.
“One day you’ll find him trying to wear his own arse like a hat, mark my words.”
* * * * *
“Ow!”
Velius turned and whispered “Shut the hell up!”
Fronto, hobbling on the foot he had just stubbed against the heavy bole of a tree, swore very quietly and whispered back to the centurion.
“What kind of way is that to speak to your commanding officer? Anyway, we can’t be near them yet. I can’t hear the horses.”
“Begging the legate’s bloody pardon, but I could hear them until you started all that muttering!”
Fronto winced at the temporary pain and clamped his mouth shut. He glanced around and felt, once again, how truly clumsy he was in comparison with some people. He never really considered legionaries agile; they were the heavy infantry that hit the enemy line like a rolling boulder. It was a surprise, then, to see the dozen men that Velius had picked out. They had stained their white tunics with soot that had turned them charcoal grey, and had wiped the blades of their daggers with wet carbon to dull the gleaming. With the same applied to their faces and arms, they were barely visible in the darkness of the woods. They moved with a catlike grace and made virtually no sound. To his own ears Fronto, on the other hand, sounded like Hannibal’s Elephant parade crossing the Alps. He had cut himself no less than six times since entering the woodland and had stubbed his toe twice. He was beginning to wonder why he had come after all. He should have stayed at the column with the slingers. Velius had looked them over briefly and then decided that they would be too noisy and visible.
Velius stopped dead. Fronto was equally surprised at the dexterity and quiet with which the veteran centurion moved. As he watched, the man made a number of mysterious motions at the legionaries, who dropped low and spread out, moving forward very slowly. Fronto shrugged at him and could see the irritated look on the man’s face even under these conditions. He would have to buy the centurion some good wine after all this was over. Velius repeated his arcane gesture and Fronto shrugged again.
Moments later, a crackly voice next to his ear whispered “The centurion’s asking you to drop low and move forward to his position slowly sir.”
He turned, startled, to see a short, wiry, blackened man crouched next to him.
“Oh. Alright.”
With a minimum of grunting, Fronto picked his way forward to Velius. When he arrived next to the man, he dropped down and whispered to him.
“Who the hell is the really short one? He moves like lightening and I didn’t even see him coming.”
Velius’ face still wore its annoyed look.
“He worked in a Gladiatorial Ludus before he joined the army; now will you kindly be quiet and let me think.”
Fronto followed his gaze and saw the horse enclosure not far away. Now that he actually listened, he could hear the horses. He could see four warriors from here, but assumed there would be others. The four were near the wicker gate by a flickering fire. The corral itself was a temporary structure formed from woven branches and vines. It wasn’t anywhere near as big as he’d expected. Certainly couldn’t hold more than a hundred horses.
“Velius, there’s nowhere near enough horses there. This must just be the scouts’ enclosure.”
Velius turned, the annoyed look back on his face.
“That’s exactly what it is and yes, there’s probably only a hundred horses there, but if you open your eyes you’ll probably see the three other fires that I’ve already spotted. If you focus around them for a while, you’ll start to spot the other horse corrals. Stay here with the men. I need to creep back and have a word with Ingenuus.”
Fronto considered arguing, but only for a moment and the look on the centurion’s face suggested how bad an idea that might be. He sighed quietly and settled into another position on the knobbly tree root. No way he sat was remotely comfortable. His heart skipped a beat when something tapped him on the shoulder. The short legionary was next to him again.
“Wotcher sir.”
Fronto smiled uneasily.
“Evening. What’s our next move?”
The legionary grinned.
“We’re going to have to take the guards out; probably one group at a time. We can’t move any of these horses while there’s a single guard left in visible range.”
Fronto nodded. It made sense to him, though he’d have split them up and done it all in one go.
“What happens if one group sees us silencing another?”
The legionary smiled again and flicked the point of his dagger with his thumbnail.
“We’d best make sure they don’t, eh sir?”
Velius’ voice piped up very quietly from behind the legate. It must be difficult, Fronto decided, to maintain a whisper when your natural vocal state is bellowing at people.
“Right. We’re all in position. There are seven guards as far as I can make out. Four standing by the fire and one sat close by, one off to the right next to the corral’s fence and one to the far left sat down, possibly asleep. Ingenuus is waiting for an owl hoot I’m going to give when we’ve dealt with them, then he’s going to bring all the cavalry to this position as quietly as possible. By then we’ll have split into two groups of seven and gone for the next two fires. Sir, can you lead one group over to the fire on the left and sort them out? I’ll lead the other group and we’ll deal with the two fires on the right. I’m then going to give another hooting and Ingenuus will send a third of the cavalry to your position, a third to mine and the rest will mount up at this corral. Then we just have to move as quickly and quietly as possible.”