‘You all ready?’ Vindex said. He had come to assist, or so he claimed, but made no effort to hide his scrutiny of the queen.
‘You’re a married man,’ Ferox told him.
‘Aye.’
A scream of sheer horror split the night air, rising over the drumming of the rain. Ferox pushed Vindex out of the way and ran. The door into the corridor was ajar and he burst through, knocking into one of the Batavians and slamming him against the wall. Ferox ran on, sprinting around the sharp bend, feet echoing on the stone. A man was yelling in surprise and anger, and then Sulpicia Lepidina was in front of him, screaming again and with blood on her dress. Fear and raw anger surged inside him. She pointed into the side room, and as he came closer he realised that the blood was not hers. In the little room Falx lay out in the floor. His throat was cut, the top of his tunic stained dark where it had flowed. Worse was the great gash across his belly, a new wound, and someone had dragged his entrails out of the hole and then bitten into them.
Sulpicia Lepidina stopped screaming and leaned back against the wall, panting as she struggled to breathe. Ferox ran past, turning again to reach the entrance. Probus was sitting with his back against the low wall, clutching at his thigh, which was pumping blood. Longinus knelt beside him, trying a strip of cloth tight above the wound. A Batavian was standing at the rampart, shouting angrily. ‘Little bastard’s got away!’ A shriller voice was calling something over and over again, but he could not catch the words.
Ferox came up beside the auxiliary, but could see nothing in the darkness. ‘Little shit Genialis has stabbed his own father,’ the auxiliary said. It was the man with the broken nose and for the first time he seemed genuinely shocked. ‘His own dad. Then ran off into the dark. It was so quick I let him go.’
‘He’ll be all right,’ Longinus said. ‘Leastways if you stop waving that in his face.’
Ferox had forgotten that he was naked. He crouched down to see the merchant better. In the dim light from the torch back in the corridor, Probus looked stunned.
‘He murdered Falx,’ Ferox said. ‘Then I think he ate some of his guts. I know what he’s done, but I don’t know why.’
‘Don’t reckon he thought we could win,’ Longinus suggested.
‘Cniva will give him power.’ Probus’ voice was barely more than a whisper.
‘He’s got wealth,’ the veteran said. ‘That brings a fair bit of power.’
Probus shook his head and then winced at a spasm of pain from his leg. Longinus finished adjusting the bandage. ‘I told him about going to Hibernia,’ The merchant explained. ‘Said he could come or that I’d try and make sure he kept some of the land if he wanted to stay in Britannia. I don’t think he listened.’
‘So he’s joining them.’
‘Maybe I told him too much about them.’ Probus’ voice was only just audible above the driving rain. ‘Cniva will let him kill, let him do what he likes. That’s more than I can offer.’
Longinus placed his hands on Ferox’s shoulders. ‘Listen. The boy will be over there telling them everything. If they didn’t know already, then he’ll tell them that Brocchus could be here any moment now. He probably will say that you are planning something as well, even if he does not know the details. You cannot keep secrets in a place as small as this. So either you go this minute or forget the whole thing and we wait here.’
‘We go.’
‘Then let’s hope the gods love a great fool.’ Longinus stood up, and stared out into the night. ‘You might make through in this, especially if he distracts them. Good luck.’ He offered his hand, and Ferox rose and took it.
He passed Vindex in the corridor. ‘You’ve got something on your face,’ the Brigantian said.
Ferox reached up and soot came away on his fingers. Sulpicia Lepidina laughed nervously, until she glanced down and took in his lack of clothing. She started to giggle and could not stop, fright turning into hysterical laughter. She tried to speak, but could not say anything and simply waved at him.
When he reached the others, he gave a quick explanation and chivvied them on. He and Brigita crept along behind the tower and lowered themselves into the water gently. It was cold, and deep in this spot, and as he pushed out he soon stopped feeling ground under his feet. With the reed in his mouth he ducked under the dark water and swam, the surface shimmering above only a little lighter than the gloom of the water.
It took longer than he expected, and then suddenly the ground was shelving and when his feet kicked out they brushed against pebbles. He surfaced, spitting out the reed, and as the water cleared from his eyes he could see the bank only a few paces away. There was no sign of a sentry. He waded slowly towards the shore, all the while scanning the darkness. A leather belt, tightened to make it short, was over one shoulder, and he looped it free, drawing the pugio from its sheath. A vague white-ish shape slithered onto the bank beside him and he realised that the queen was already there. She tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to the right. He nodded. The rain was hard, stinging his skin until he felt almost numb, and making him blink all the time so that he could see.
Ferox kept low, a hunched shape that might just confuse any watching eyes. Whenever he had looked in the daytime, the sentries here were some way back from the shore. No challenge came from the darkness and he saw no sign of movement apart from the long grass swaying in the wind. Still crouching, he went on, knife held down. The ground was boggy, so that his feet squelched into the mud.
He did not see the warrior until it was too late, and he tripped against him, toes hurting from stubbing against a man wearing mail. The pirate lay, face down in the grass, and a quick exploration showed a wound at the back of his neck. It was a neat job, from someone who knew just where to strike, and that was not true of most soldiers or warriors.
A shape appeared, white and naked, with her long hair plastered down over her back and some on her chest. ‘There is another over there,’ Brigita hissed. ‘Like that one. I think they are the only ones.’
Ferox whistled, and then they both kneeled down to wait. ‘Your brothers and sisters?’ he asked, for it was hard to know who else might have killed these men, unless Cniva was facing a challenge from within his own band.
‘Perhaps.’
Bran and the Red Cat appeared, carrying the equipment. They dressed, although Ferox was so drenched that he did not feel much warmer. It was good to have boots on again, to feel a sword on his left hip and pull a dark cloak around him. At the very least the dull clothes made them less visible.
They headed for the beach, taking them almost in the opposite direction from where they wanted to go, but the hope was that this should also take them away from any sentries or patrols. The Red Cat went first, and Ferox and the others followed, just keeping him within sight. All the while the rain hammered against them and showed no sign of relenting.
Like the swim, the walk towards the beach seemed to take far longer than it should. That was the way of things at night, especially in weather like this. Apart from a few animals scurrying across their path they saw no sign of life. Neither was there any sign of boats on the beach. Still, there was no particular reason for Brocchus to land on this beach, just because they had done so.
Swinging to the left, they followed the coastline. Ferox planned to reach the midway point on the island before heading inland towards the anchorage on the far side. After an hour the rain stopped, so abruptly that his battered face took a few moments to register the change.