XXIX
‘LET’S KILL HIM and get out of here,’ the leader jerked a thumb at Ferox. ‘Bastard will only get in the way and slow us down.’ The centurion had his hands tied behind his back and was astride a mule. Above them the clouds were heavy with rain, and the air seemed thick with the scent of flowers.
‘The general wanted to see him,’ Ivonercus insisted. ‘That’s my orders.’
‘Orders!’ The leader leaned to the side and spat, then cursed his horse when it shied. ‘Piss on orders! Didn’t run from the legion just to be ordered about by some ape of a barbarian.’
‘The Lord Diegis was very clear—’
‘Diegis! That useless bastard!’ The leader tried to spit again, but his lips were too dry. ‘Marcus, the wine!’ he called to one of the other riders, before taking the proffered wine-sack and raising it high, spilling as much as he drank. For all his long hair and beard the man still looked like the legionary he had once been before deserting to the Dacians almost a decade ago. For one thing, Ivonercus thought, he rode with all the grace of a sack tied up with string.
‘Forget Diegis! Can’t you use your eyes?’ They were riding down the valley, and all the while passing warriors going the other way. Some were in groups and some on their own, and some still had weapons and shields, but many did not. All walked or rode, heads bowed, exhausted and silent. ‘Or have you never seen an army in rout? That daft sod Diegis has fought the legions and taken a kicking.’ There was almost pride in the man’s voice. ‘Diegis has lost, and from all I’ve seen old Decebalus doesn’t take too kindly to chieftains who lose. What Diegis thinks about anything ain’t going to matter.’
‘I do what I’m told,’ Ivonercus said stubbornly. ‘The general said bring the prisoner to him, so that’s what I’m doing. You don’t have to come with us.’
‘No, I don’t,’ the leader said dubiously. He and his five men had joined them late in the afternoon, carrying a message from Sarmizegethusa. ‘Look, it’s nearly dark. Let’s stop and cook something to eat. The army’s coming back this way so Diegis will be along sometime if he’s still alive. How about it? I can’t let you wander, mate, you know that. Not until I’m sure you are with us.’
‘I’m in no hurry,’ Ivonercus lied, nodding to Vepoc. The two Brigantians jumped down from their horses. ‘No food for that bugger, though!’ he said, pointing at Ferox.
‘My thoughts exactly,’ the leader agreed. He walked his mount over to the centurion and pushed him hard on the shoulders so that he slipped and thumped onto the grass. ‘Bastard centurions.’
Ferox lay where he had fallen as the others made a fire and cooked a stew. Deserters or not, they still mixed biscuit, onions and salted bacon soldier fashion. The men passing now were more talkative, and he was surprised that they were not drawn by the scent of cooking.
‘Best get a move on, boys,’ they called. ‘The Romans’ll be here soon and spill your guts out, full belly or no.’
‘Think we better go?’ Ivonercus sounded nervous. The sun had appeared briefly as it set and the gloom gathered around them. They had settled down a few hundred yards from the main track, and could barely see the dark shapes of men retreating along it. A couple of oak trees spread their arms above them, and should give some shelter when the rain came.
‘No hurry. Be a few more hours before any of the bastards turn up. You can trust me, because sure as Hercules’ cock I don’t intend to be taken.’ The leader tried a sip of the stew and winced. ‘Nearly ready. If there is no sign of Diegis and his chieftains soon then we’ve done all we can and can turn around. Start asking people whether they’ve seen him, just so we can say we tried our best. Come on, you can’t have been long in the sacramentum if you don’t know how to slack off.’
‘They made me join,’ Ivonercus said. ‘And I only stayed as long as I did to get a chance to kill him.’ He nodded towards the prostrate Ferox.
‘Do it, lad, we won’t say anything.’
‘My orders,’ Ivonercus insisted. ‘Bring him to Diegis. Maybe once they’ve beaten some truth out of him, they’ll let me have what is left.’
‘Why wait? He’s here. We’ll say he tried to escape and it had to be done.’ He grinned. ‘Look at the way the bastard’s lying still and not moving? That’s a bugger trying to escape if ever I saw one.’
Ferox sat up.
‘Even worse, he’s about to make a break for it. Evil-looking bastard, isn’t he.’
Ivonercus stood up and his hand went to the hilt of his spatha. ‘You don’t mind?’ The sword scraped on the bronze top of the scabbard as he pulled it free.
‘Why should we? Kill the bastard.’
‘That’s not what we were told to do,’ Vepoc said doubtfully, but he stood and also drew his sword.
‘Shall I do it?’ the leader asked. ‘Be a pleasure.’
‘No,’ Ivonercus said. ‘My oath, my revenge.’ He swished the blade through the air, hefting the weapon in his hand. ‘I have waited a long time for this.’
‘If you are sure, lord?’ Vepoc hefted his own sword.
‘Lord?’ the leader asked. ‘Just who are you?’
Lightning sprang down from the clouds and just a few moments later the great booming roar of thunder rolled over them. Big drops of rain pattered on the leaves above their heads.
Ivonercus spun and drove the spatha through the man’s beard and into his throat. Vepoc swung down, hacking into the skull of another deserter, who fell forward into the fire. Sparks flew and the other three were shouting and reaching for their weapons. Two died quickly, the Brigantes cutting them down, and the last tried to run past Ferox, who stuck out his legs to send the man sprawling. Vepoc wandered over and thrust down into the deserter’s back, twisting the blade until the man stopped moving. His hair was slicked down by the driving rain.
‘I don’t think anyone has seen us,’ he shouted to Ivonercus to make himself heard. Lightning flashed again, and for an instant he saw hundreds, perhaps thousands, of Dacians plodding up the valley.
Ferox managed to get up, hands still tied and the two Brigantes moved to be on either side of him. The thunder boomed out again, a little further away. Ivonercus wiped his spatha on his trousers and sheathed the sword only to draw a knife.
‘Do you trust us now, centurion?’ he called as he cut the bonds, using the language of the tribes.
‘You are Brigantes,’ Ferox shouted. ‘The Brigantes keep faith. This I have always known. You are held by your oath.’
‘We are, but the queen is queen and if I doubted her before I do not now. We are her people and will follow her and obey, wherever it leads us.’
‘That is why I have trusted you,’ Ferox said. ‘And have been pleased to have you by my side.’
Vepoc nodded. All of their eyes were stinging from the rain.
‘You have done more than enough if you wish to leave me,’ Ferox said. It was two nights since they had left Piroboridava, Ferox creeping ahead of the others to kill two guards. Apart from that, it had been easy getting away, for almost all of the attackers were marching down the valley and the ones left behind were deep in exhausted sleep. Sosius had slipped off almost immediately, and although Ferox did not trust the man, he felt easier in his mind not having him with them. Perhaps the slave was dead or perhaps he would reach the Roman army before them, but none of that was up to him.