They only had two possibilities. Either they must disappear, or join a group that would frighten off the men coming after them. First he had to slow the latter down; Gadoric and Hypolitas needed time to recover their strength but if they were allowed to come on at their present pace he would be forced to move right away. The important people were the trackers; kill them and the whole enterprise would falter. But how? Against thirty men he had a spear, his bow and a quiver of arrows, two swords and one knife. He slipped out of his makeshift tent, rolling up his dark brown cloak, checked that the horses were properly hobbled, before climbing down to look at his companions. They slept, the remaining food and water between them, and he lifted the food and placed it under a bush, tucking the empty sack into his belt. A quick arrangement of twigs, something they had played at so long ago, left a message for Gadoric that he would be back. He took his spear and headed off downhill, looking for a place to attack, preferably as close to the coastal plain as possible.
Moving swiftly and silently, he was able to enjoy the sensation of being back in wooded countryside. At every opportunity, Aquila would make for an outcrop that afforded him a view of the progress of their pursuers. The party had left the plain and started up the hills, but even though they were out of sight he knew their location. Such a large group of men made a great deal of noise and you could place them by the flurries of birds scared out of the trees. He was following the trail down and they were following it up. They were bound to meet!
He found his spot, a narrow ravine where the sides rose some fifteen feet above the trail. Ideally he would have liked a place further down but there was no guarantee he would find anything as good as his present location. Aquila surveyed both sides, careful not to step on the trail, for if his pursuers had any sense they would not just blunder through a dangerous gully like this; at the very least they would be prepared for an attack. Odds of thirty to one were somewhat lessened by the narrow defile which would confine them to a maximum of three abreast, but those three and the men behind them would be ready, quite possibly with bow and arrows. Anyone standing up to cast a spear would present an easy target so he had to unsettle them, to do something to spoil their aim. First he collected dry twigs, laying them across the gaps in the trees that led round the ravine to the spot he had chosen for his attack. If anyone came by those routes he would be warned and could get away.
The next bit was harder, and given the lack of available time he was blessed with good fortune. Catching snakes is never easy, even when you know where to look, especially during the middle of a hot day. Aquila searched carefully through the long grass with the end of a specially cut branch, food sack in hand, concentrating on the shaded areas, under rocks, where they would sleep. He found two adders, pinned them with the head of the stick, then picked them up and slipped them into the sack. Taking up position, he laid his bow and three arrows in front of him. Then he was still, so that the forest around him, disturbed by his presence, could settle back into normality.
Those ascending were making a tremendous racket, blundering through the undergrowth at the side of the trail and scaring animals large and small, some of which ran past Aquila. He froze at the sound of breaking twigs, then spun round as a massive wild boar shot past his outstretched feet, too intent on escape to afford him even a passing look, but being a huge beast Aquila stared after it eagerly. Thigh high to a standing man, the curled horns on its snout were long enough to disembowel him, backed up by enough weight to break both your legs if it ran into you full tilt. In better times, he and Gadoric would have had great pleasure hunting such an animal.
The noises stopped, his pursuers having reined in their horses, and he strained to hear the voices, but the only sound was a faint hum of murmured instructions, followed by hooves muffled by the loose sandy trail. He loosened the neck of the sack, easing it towards the edge of the ravine as two men appeared, one looking at the trail, the other scanning the sides of the gully, shortly followed by several more riding in pairs abreast, bows at the ready, with arrows slotted into the gut. The man in front was a tracker and he was Aquila’s target. He turned and beckoned behind him and Aquila inhaled sharply as Flaccus appeared. The old centurion stopped his horse at the head of the column and raised his head, seeming to look straight at Aquila, sniffing the air, as though that would alert him to any hidden danger. Clearly in command, he turned and beckoned for the others to follow. If Aquila was going to stop them, this was the moment, but Flaccus, in the lead, was blocking him from his favoured target. Logic told him that killing the leader would do just as well but sentiment made that impossible. Flaccus might be cruel and avaricious yet he had been good to the youth who now held his life in his hands.
The snakes were hissing madly and trying to wriggle out of the sack, their heads waving from side to side. Aquila took hold of the material at the bottom, jerked his arm and propelled the reptiles down onto the sandy track. They landed with a thud, two feet in front of Flaccus, and immediately wriggled away from him in panic. Flaccus’s horse, right in their path, was rearing within a second of their arrival, which caused the horses behind to buck and turn. Aquila stood up and there was a fraction of a second when the two pairs of eyes locked. Flaccus must have seen Aquila whip an arrow into his bow, must have been sure, with the boy’s prowess, that he was going to die. Aquila was pulling on the string, the head of the arrow still aimed at the old centurion’s heart. He twitched it to one side, no more than half an inch, but it was enough. The tracker, whose horse had turned right away from the snakes, took the bolt, which missed Flaccus’s head by a fraction. The thud was quite audible as it struck the man’s back, feathers quivering on the long shaft.
He fired off one more arrow, then ducked quickly to his right as the return fire whistled through the trees above his head, one or two passing the spot where he had been standing, but all, in the melee, were badly aimed, because the horses, still spooked by the snakes, had tried to bolt. The confusion was evident in the mass of shouted and conflicting instructions, until the roaring voice of Flaccus raised itself above all others, commanding everyone to be quiet. Aquila slung his bow over his shoulder and retrieved his last arrow, then he was off, running diagonally across the hillside, spear in hand, through thick undergrowth that men on horses would not attempt. Flaccus was no fool; he would have some dismount to chase him on foot and he could only hope that he could either outrun them, or through superior skill in these woods, evade capture.
He moved swiftly, ignoring the disturbance his passing caused, for the woods were now in turmoil, with every bird calling in a unified chorus of alarm; that, added to the sound of men pursuing him, calling to each other as they came crashing through the undergrowth, spurred him on. He burst through a clump of bushes to another trail, made by animals over the years, and started to run uphill. The huge boar was coming down, so close to him that he would die if he tried to throw his spear so Aquila dived to one side, throwing himself into a thicket of painful nettles. Unable to turn swiftly the boar shot by, but it pushed out its hooves and finally shuddered to a halt.
Aquila leapt up and threw the spear to one side. His bow was up and the arrow slung, waiting for the animal to attack, even though he wondered if such a weapon would be of any use against such a creature. But it did not turn; the sound of the men chasing Aquila, to an enraged and short-sighted animal, was a stronger lure than his proximity. It lumbered off down the trail, rapidly gaining momentum on the steep slope. The youngster was up and running by the time he heard the screams, the first being of a man in danger, swiftly followed by that same man in agony as the boar took him. Then his howls mingled with those of the boar, high pitched and squealing, as his companions tried to save their friend by killing the animal. The whole forest reverberated with the screeching of man and beast, both, judging by the sound, in their death throes. Aquila hoped that the boar had failed to kill, for a badly wounded man would slow the chase down even more.