‘Want me to rough him up, lady?’ Vindex asked cheerfully. ‘Wouldn’t be any trouble.’
‘There you are, I told you it was dangerous,’ she said, and the scout laughed so much that when they reached the man who had signalled to them he was obviously baffled.
‘Ignore them,’ Ferox said as he shaded his eyes to see better. ‘I see them,’ he added. It was not difficult. There were nine dark shapes in the grass a few hundred paces away. Smaller than the dead horses and mules, but standing out because they were so pale were the white corpses of the men. Ferox counted. ‘Looks like all of them,’ he said and was not surprised. ‘You,’ he said to the cavalryman who had signalled. ‘Ride back to the main force and tell them to come up and wait here, just where you have been. Tell the decurion not to do anything else unless I signal.’
‘My lord,’ the Brigantian said and trotted away. Ferox could not get used to soldiers calling him lord, but so far it was proving difficult to persuade the Brigantes to call him plain sir.
‘Suppose there is no point in asking you to wait?’ he said to Enica, who responded by walking her horse forward. ‘Didn’t think so,’ he added and joined her. ‘But nice and easy, all of us.’ He waved his arm for the other outriders to keep level with them.
His senses told him that the enemy had long gone, but sometimes feelings were wrong and there was no gain in taking a chance. He walked his horse steadily, scanning the ground ahead and especially the treeline only a hundred paces away. That was the obvious place if there was an ambush – and was clearly where the attackers had been earlier. Still, doing the obvious was something the best leaders would avoid whenever they could. He remembered that there was a little gulley up ahead, just beyond the furthest of the dead horses. It was only a few feet deep, with a tiny stream in the bottom rushing down to join the main river, but if a man did not mind getting a bit wet and was good at keeping still, then there could be a dozen or more in there, already within bowshot. Vindex was staring at the same place, so he must have remembered the ground as well. They were half a mile from where Vepoc and his men had been attacked and on that day they had come past this patch as well.
If they were waiting then they were good. There were carrion fowl picking at the dead men and beasts, and they flapped noisily into the air, voices harsh when Ferox suddenly put his horse into a run, wanting to rush at the gulley and spring any ambush if it was there.
Nothing happened. The birds complained and the wind hissed through the grass, but no warriors appeared and no arrows sped towards him. Ferox sighed before dismounting to take a better look.
‘What was that little gallop in aid of?’ Vindex asked as he and Enica rode up. Ferox was crouching, ignoring the nearest corpse and instead studying the ground. ‘Trying to be a hero?’
Ferox stood and shouted at the outriders to keep going and form a line nearer the wood. ‘From this distance they could drop every one of us as quick as boiled asparagus.’
Vindex frowned. ‘What?’
‘Don’t show off, husband,’ Claudia Enica said. ‘The divine Augustus could get away with using vulgar expressions, but you are not granted the same licence.’
‘Vulgar? Didn’t sound very vulgar to me. Not like…’ Vindex chuckled. ‘No, not in front of the queen.’
‘She’s probably heard it already,’ Ferox said automatically, without really paying attention.
The pommel of a sword bounced hard on the top of his helmet. ‘Next time I’ll use the blade,’ Enica assured him.
‘Next time I wish you would stay back,’ Ferox said. ‘I mean it.’
‘I am sure some fool will rush ahead to distract the enemy,’ she said, but there was a warmer smile than he had seen for a while. She was so close that he brushed against her silk-clad leg without Vindex seeing.
‘He’s right, my queen,’ Vindex said. ‘Be a shame for the lassies to grow up without a mother.’
‘If that mother is daft enough to let herself be killed they will feel no great loss.’ Enica edged her horse on, and this time tapped Ferox’s shoulder playfully with the flat of her sword. ‘My story does not end here or for a long time yet. This much I know.’ There was neither humour nor a trace of doubt in her tone.
‘Wonder if these poor souls thought the same,’ Ferox said, gesturing at the corpses, their places and the marks in the earth and flattened grass telling him of the story of what had happened as clearly as if he had been watching. There were seven Brigantes, one of Vindex’s Carvetii and an auxiliary duplicarius who had been in charge. The little fight had not lasted long as fifteen or more archers shot from the trees. Horses and men fell, as one flight of arrows followed another before the first had struck home.
The patrol had been careless as soldiers often were when nothing had happened on all the other long patrols. Half the horses were down and the rest wounded when warriors had come from the gulley and the archers had followed from the wood to hack down the survivors. Only two of the Brigantes had no arrows in them, and the rest were dead or staggering and bleeding as the little charge swept over them. One of the unwounded men had his whole chest opened by a savage cut. He cannot have been wearing armour, which would have taken some of the force from the blow, and Ferox made a note to check that all the Brigantes had been issued with a cuirass and that all wore it, whether it was uncomfortable or not. The other had a hole in the top of his skull, fairly small and neat, which probably killed him outright after punching through his helmet, which lay broken and discarded a few yards away. Ferox sighed, for he had seen wounds like that before, many years ago and knew what caused them.
‘Why not steal the horses?’ Vindex asked.
‘Too easy for us to track,’ Ferox said. ‘And they didn’t want anyone to get away.’
‘They took the clothes though. Stripped the poor buggers bare.’
‘We will probably find most of it dumped nearby. They will only take what they need.’ Ferox did not bother to explain that pieces of the men’s clothing would help some of their killers purify their bodies. Instead he went over to his own gelding. ‘We need to take care of them. Perhaps you two can deal with that and I’ll take a couple of men and see where the trail leads.’
Enica was by him now, holding his bridle. ‘That is not your job. Not anymore.’
‘It’s mine,’ Vindex said. ‘I am supposed to be in charge of the scouts.’
Ferox did not bother to argue. They were right, much as he regretted the days when he could head off alone or with just a handful of companions. ‘Don’t go far and don’t take any risks.’
‘Always sensible, me.’
‘Take Bran and Minura,’ Enica commanded. ‘And be careful.’
Vindex, already grinning at the mention of the young woman warrior, beamed. ‘For you, my queen, anything.’
After he had called the others, the scout headed towards the trees, the tracks that far very obvious.
‘Why can’t you be like that?’ Claudia Enica asked Ferox.
‘I am of the Silures,’ he said. ‘And I do not understand women – at least not the ones worth understanding.’
She treated him to another smile. ‘Your folk are all liars.’
They did their best for the bodies, by which time Vindex and the others returned. The trail was clear, heading through the woods. Bran gave a terse report. ‘About thirty or so, going up the valley, heading for the old tower or the pass. Weren’t trying to hide anything, so did not push our luck.’
Ferox patted him on the shoulder and praised Bran which for a moment made him seem like the happy little boy instead of the stern warrior. The ride back was easy, helped by the lengthening days, although Ferox missed the far longer spring evenings of Britannia and suspected many of the others did as well. It was two hours into the night by the time they rode back through the porta praetoria. Sabinus was waiting anxiously for their safe return and carrying news. Piso was awake.