‘The hut’s empty, sir,’ Noster said as he dismounted. ‘All I found were these …’
He showed Eborius Indavara’s stave and dagger and Cassius’s sword.
‘… and this,’ he added, passing his centurion a few strands of rope.
‘Cut,’ said Eborius. ‘By the gods, he’s free.’
He glanced around the square.
‘Where could Master Cassius and the others be?’ asked Simo.
‘Look,” said Eborius, “I did all I could to help. My first obligation is to these people.’
Another of the legionaries jogged over to the centurion. ‘Sir, they want to leave now. They say they’re going with or without us.’
Eborius looked despairingly up at the sky before responding. ‘Take the men back to the barracks and saddle the horses. I want everyone in full armour and ready to leave within the hour.’
‘Yes, sir.’
The legionary hurried away.
‘You’ll do nothing?’ Simo asked quietly.
‘Remember your place, servant,’ snapped Eborius. ‘Carnifex lives in a fortified compound and has one hundred and thirty men. I have thirty-seven. Thirty-five that can walk.’
‘And the girl?’ said Asdribar.
‘There are women here. And children. I suggest you return to your ship and cast off. I’m sorry.’
Eborius looked at the weapons Noster was still holding and pointed at Simo. ‘You might as well return those.’
He walked back towards the crowd.
‘You won’t leave them, will you, Captain?’ asked Simo.
Asdribar nodded at the departing Eborius. ‘If he won’t help, what can I do?’
‘Can’t we even look for them?’
‘My men are sailors, not soldiers. I’ve asked enough of them over the last week as it is.’
‘We cannot leave.’
Asdribar looked at the crowd. ‘Everyone else is.’
He strode away towards the harbour.
Noster handed Simo the three weapons, then gripped his arm.
“Don’t give up. I’ll work on the centurion — bring him round. He won’t just leave them to die, I know it. But you must do your part.’ He pointed at Asdribar. ‘Persuade him to stay — until sundown at least. If your friends aren’t back by then, they aren’t coming back.’
The legionaries of the First Century were horribly impressive. Cassius had expected an ill-disciplined mob of misfits and criminals, but Carnifex’s men were orderly and well turned out, with only the thick beards and excessive number of tattoos suggesting an unconventional regime. Many of them wore sleeveless tunics to better display the single ‘I’ etched in green ink on their upper arms. The emblem of the Third Augustan was Pegasus, so winged horses were also popular; the ever-present eagle too. Of the phrases detailed on the leather shield-covers in yellow or white paint, as many honoured Carnifex as the gods.
The soldiers looked on as the three prisoners were taken out through the mansion gate and across the road. There were mocking smiles and muttered jokes and an air of jubilation about them; they were glad to have their centurion back.
The Via Roma ran right through the centre of Carnifex’s headquarters. Cassius took a brief glance back over his shoulder at the mansion. It was a huge, luxurious villa flanked by towers and surrounded by a ten-foot wall. The building and grounds appeared well maintained and Cassius spied a dozen local servants — men and women — gathered by the main door.
To the south the Via Roma ran down to a plain several hundred feet below. A thin haze hung over the yellow expanse; mile after mile of barren ground interrupted only by a few scattered pockets of date palms. In the distance was an unending sea of low, rolling hills.
Opposite the mansion were the barracks: a low, red-brick building built at ninety degrees to the road. The legionaries were lined up outside, holding spears and helmets as well as their shields. Cassius was near the front, behind Procyon; and when he didn’t keep up, he got a spear-point in his back from the man guarding him. He glanced at some of the more amenable-looking legionaries (they were few and far between) and briefly considered appealing to them, telling them who he was. But — apart from the thought of the spear point slicing into his flesh instead of pricking it — he was certain he would be wasting his breath. Carnifex had had a long time to make the First Century his own.
Though his hands were still tied, Cassius was able to reach up and touch his nose. He felt the drying blood beneath his nostrils, then dared to reach higher. But as soon as he felt bone moving under the skin, he cried out, provoking chuckles from the men.
Then there were whistles and jeers as the legionaries turned their attention to Annia. Cassius was surprised to find he could barely summon any anger towards the girl now, even though her actions had probably cost him his life. His guts churned as he thought of what awaited her. Death would be better.
Procyon led the way past a smaller building and a deep hollow in the ground filled with refuse. Cassius looked back again. The legionaries were all following and he noticed the long-haired Maseene guide, Sulli, amongst them. Indavara was walking with his head down, Mutilus right behind him. Annia was further back, with Carnifex.
The well-trodden path traversed a low ridge, then ran along the right side of another, far larger hollow thirty feet across and ten deep. This, Cassius presumed, was ‘the pit’ Carnifex had mentioned. At the far end, behind a hefty iron gate, was the dark mouth of a cave. Chains ran up from the gate to a joist mounted at the pit’s edge.
Procyon turned and held up a hand. Cassius stopped. The pain from his nose was tolerable now but he felt bereft, utterly drained of physical and mental strength. The day was bright, the sun warm on his face, but he was shivering. He couldn’t think straight, couldn’t connect one thought to another. He wished he was closer to Indavara.
Procyon turned him round so that his back was to the pit.
‘On your knees,’ ordered the bowl-haired optio.
The soldiers filed round the edge of the pit. Mutilus pushed Indavara down next to Cassius and stationed the guard with the spear behind them. Indavara’s bloodstained brow and eyelids seemed almost pink in the sunlight. Cassius was glad to be beside him again. He looked at his face, desperate for some sign of hope, but Indavara just gazed blankly down at the muddy ground.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Cassius. ‘You were right.’
The bodyguard didn’t seem to hear him. He looked up as another soldier brought Annia towards them.
The men parted to let Carnifex through.
‘Spread out there!’ he ordered. ‘Right the way around.’
The centurion still had his muscle cuirass on and was now armed once more with dagger and sword. His sturdy bronze helmet hung from a strap on his shoulder. Ignoring the captives, he looked on, arms crossed, as the men swiftly followed his instructions. He then raised a hand. Every last man became silent.
‘Morning, First,’ he growled.
‘Morning, sir,’ came the rumbling reply.
‘You’ve had a long night thanks to these two. Mercenaries — paid to kidnap me by an old enemy.’
‘That is a lie!’ blurted Cassius. ‘I am an-’
Procyon was quick. His boot caught Cassius in the chest; a weak blow, but enough to send him backwards into the mud.
Carnifex continued: ‘But luckily old Carn got the better of them.’
He turned to Annia. ‘Grabbed this bitch too. A keeper, don’t you reckon?’
Shouts and grunts from the men. Carnifex picked strands of hair away from Annia’s face, gently tucking them behind her ears. She wiped her eyes.
The guard let Indavara help Cassius back on to his knees.
‘Now,’ said Carnifex, ‘I’m thinking it’s about time Chief had himself another meal. There’s slim pickings on Streak, but One Ear here’s got plenty of beef on him. Time for a wager or two, boys.’
Carnifex waved at the men standing above the cave. The chains rattled as they hauled the gate upward. Someone began a chant.