He was amused to see the tribune join the small group of men brave enough to risk his acerbic humour.
‘Well now, Tribune Scaurus queuing up for the rider’s remedy with his men, that is a sight I never thought I’d see. Here you go, sir.’
He passed Scaurus a jar which the tribune uncorked, gingerly sniffing at the contents. ‘It’s not for sticking under your nose, Tribune; it’s for rubbing on the sore skin. Best quality rabbit fat that is, nothing better for saddle sores.’
He winked at the senior officer as Scaurus dipped a finger into the jar with a look of distaste.
‘No, nothing better unless you can get a skinful of a good rough red. The headache you’ll have in the morning takes your mind right off your sore flaps!’
Arminius dismounted stiffly from his massive beast, reaching up to help Lupus down from the animal’s back where he had ridden in front of the German.
‘Does your backside hurt?’
The boy shook his head, his eyes wide at the sight of his tribune with one hand inside his leggings and a smile of relief as the fat he was rubbing between his legs eased the soreness caused by the saddle’s hard surface. Arminius grinned, ignoring the tribune’s narrowed eyes.
‘That’s the sheepskin for you. I’m just glad I had a spare piece of it in my kit.’ Silus walked across and pointed to the fleece he had given Arminius to fashion a makeshift saddle for the boy before their departure from Napoca. ‘If only we had a few more then we might have been spared the sight of this lot greasing themselves up for the afternoon, eh?’
The raiding party gathered in an empty barrack in the legionary fortress of Apulum that night, once the mounted detachment’s horses had been fed and watered, and those of the squadron’s original riders who had not dismounted and were left to march with the infantry had been provided with food and beds. Scaurus looked around the room at the men he had chosen to make the attempt to infiltrate the valley, meeting each man’s eyes in turn.
‘So once we’re through the mine and into the Ravenstone, I’ll go to Theodora’s villa with Arminius and two of our Hamians, and free the mine owners from whatever duress Gerwulf has them under. At the same time, Cattanius will lead Centurions Corvus, Qadir and Dubnus plus Arabus and the other two Hamians to the miners’ camp along with Martos. Our main objective is to release those labourers, and to protect them for long enough that they can get to their tools and gather enough strength to break out. Once that’s achieved we’ll all meet back at the mine entrance, which will be guarded by Lugos and Lupus. If Arminius and I don’t make it back to the mine at the appointed time then I’ll remind you all again that I expect you to continue as planned and make your way back through the mine to the southern side. There will be no heroic attempts to find or rescue me, since it will be highly likely that we will both already be dead.’
The German pulled a face, but made no comment.
‘Is everyone clear as to their part? We have to get the timing right if this is going to work.’
Silus stood up and saluted.
‘Yes Tribune, we know our part. I’m going to supervise the loading of the cart, and make sure the load’s rainproof. You wouldn’t want all of that shouting at the fortress’s stores officer to have been wasted.’
Scaurus nodded his approval and the decurion went on his way with a smile at the memory of his tribune’s incandescent anger when the Apulum fortress’s storeman had robustly denied being in possession of any of the equipment the party needed. Having reduced the soldier to terrified silence with a violent outburst that questioned both his parentage and his desire to see the next dawn, the tribune had waved his men forward into the stores in search of their requirements. Marcus had walked back down the stores’ length a few moments later with a satisfied smile.
‘It’s all there. Rope, rations, torches — lots of torches — and more than enough lambskin for our boots.’
The storeman had been aghast as the equipment was carried past him, but Scaurus’s rebuttal of his argument had left him floundering for a response.
‘But that won’t leave enough torches to light the fortress!’
‘In which case you’d better spend some of that gold you’ve been creaming off the top all these years and buy some more, hadn’t you, because I’m taking these. And I’ll need a cart to carry it all. Quickly now!’
Satisfied that everyone knew what was expected of them, the tribune dismissed his men, calling to Marcus to stay behind with him for a moment. The younger man turned his back to the iron stove’s glowing metal, enjoying the warmth after a day in the cold winter’s air, and waited for the tribune to speak. Scaurus rubbed wearily at his face with a hand before speaking.
‘Earlier today I suddenly remembered a question that I’ve been meaning to ask you for several days, but which I keep forgetting given everything else that’s been going on. After the battle on the frozen lake, you went across the ice to gather shields from Belletor’s cohort, to replace the ones that had been trampled to pieces on the ice. You had to walk through the men who had made a run for it across the lake, and were ridden down by the Sarmatae.’
Marcus nodded slowly, recalling the lake’s bitter cold through his fur-wrapped feet as he had walked reluctantly towards the scatter of bodies littering the ice.
‘Julius sent me across the lake for shields so that I could look for Carius Sigilis. He knew that the tribune and I had established a friendship of sorts, as much as a man of that seniority ever can with a common centurion.’
‘And?’
‘There’s little enough to tell. The men on the lake were all dead, either killed instantly or taken by blood loss and the cold quickly enough that I doubt any of them suffered for very long.’
‘And Sigilis?’
‘He had a spear wound in his side, deep into his stomach, and another in his neck. He bled to death.’
Scaurus got up, standing alongside his centurion and extending his hands to the stove’s warmth.
‘I watched you, Marcus. You went from body to body looking for him, and then when you found him you were crouched over his corpse for a good deal more time than it takes to ascertain that he was dead.’
Marcus nodded.
‘True. He’d written a last message on the ice with his own blood, the words barely readable but clear enough if a man knew what he was looking at.’
‘Was it “The Emperor’s Knives” by any chance?’
‘He told you, didn’t he?’
The tribune gave him a slow, sad smile, his admonishment no more than gentle amusement.
‘Well of course he did, you fool. When you refused to listen to what he was trying to tell you, he decided that letting me in on the secret was the best way to ensure that you learned the truth about your father’s death, even if he were to die in battle. He respected you, Centurion, he saw qualities in you that he yearned to find in himself, and while he very much wanted to be part of whatever revenge you take for Senator Aquila’s death, he knew there was a risk he wouldn’t survive the campaign. So he told me the story of the men who killed your father.’
‘I’m going to kill them all, if I ever get to Rome.’
Scaurus pursed his lips.
‘Taking on men with that sort of power will be insanely dangerous. You might catch one of them unprepared, but after that the others will know you’re coming, and they’ll be the most dangerous prey you’ll ever hunt. You’ll need the support of someone powerful, if you ever manage to get to Rome, more powerful than I’ll ever be, even if we do manage to pull off a miracle and stop Gerwulf running away with enough gold to buy a provincial city.’
Marcus reached into his purse, pulling out a heavy gold pendant.
‘This was on the ice beside his last words. The Sarmatae didn’t have time to dismount and rob them of their possessions.’