‘What can the likes of me tell you? We are told to march, so we march, we are told to camp so we make camp. If you’re in the front rank as you assemble for a battle you see your enemy right enough, into his eyes as you close, but most times you don’t know what you’re doing or why. It’s what I said to you afore. Staying alive is what matters and let the folk that have to worry about what it’s all for …’
The hut was again flooded with light as Dardanies entered, followed by a trio of much older men, who judging by the torques and ornaments with which they adorned themselves, were of a higher tribal rank than the man who had taken them captive.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
What followed was a very obvious argument and one in which neither Flavius nor Ohannes were part; there were clearly divided opinions about what to do and the disagreements were fierce, all carried out in their native tongue. The only indication of which way matters were swaying came from the looks aimed in their direction by Dardanies. Sometimes they were gloomy, at other times curious, the sole exception being when he became part of the discussion and was seen to be protesting.
‘These people must be able to speak some Latin,’ Flavius whispered: that had to be the case, based on their having lived so long and in such close proximity to the border.
‘Daresay,’ Ohannes replied, his voice normal, as Dardanies shot him an irritated look for having the temerity to speak, ‘but why should they? Satisfying us is not what this is about. They are seeking what is best for their own tribe.’
Back and forth it went; sometimes it seemed to the pair watching as if one or two of these tribal elders might come to actual blows, so fierce were the physical gestures. At times hands shot out pointing in different directions, which Flavius interpreted as the choice between the Huns and Senuthius, while seeking to work out what option was gaining ground.
On it went until finally it seemed two of the trio had worn down the arguments of the one most voluble and dramatic in his gestures, another turning to Dardanies to bark at him, which had the recipient shaking his head, not in any kind of refusal. Their captor looked, if anything, miserable and it was, naturally, he who spoke.
‘A decision has been reached.’ He paused and addressed his superiors once more in his own tongue, giving the impression of wishing to confirm something before he spoke. ‘They are not as one.’
‘Tell that in any language,’ Ohannes hissed.
Dardanies responded furiously. ‘It would do you well to hold your tongue.’
‘Best obey,’ Flavius responded, nudging Ohannes and giving Dardanies a look of understanding, before adding, ‘He does not wish you to think he is fearful.’
‘Just as well, for he has no cause to be, not that I think what has been decided is right.’
‘It would be a kindness to tell us what that is.’
‘You are to be taken back over the river.’
‘No kindness there,’ Ohannes spat.
‘Not to be given over to Senuthius Vicinus, which is the course I would adopt, but to be sent on south to a point where you can make your way without fear.’
‘Not the Huns?’
‘No.’
‘Am I allowed to ask why?’
That got a sigh bordering on resignation. ‘Our elders think it beneath us to send you back to a certain death and a painful one, while to just sell you into slavery would demean the memory of your father, who, even if he was Roman, tried to keep in check the worst instincts of those who wished to profit from our weaknesses.’
He gestured to the trio of elderly men, still scowling, but from time to time, as Dardanies spoke, including him in their disapproval. ‘You will not know this, but many times, when our hotheads disobeyed the decrees of our tribe and crossed the river, they fell into the hands of your family.’
‘I know that,’ Flavius replied.
It had hardly been a secret in his house when the cohort had some success, just as it had been acknowledged that the achievements had been against numbers insufficient to really trouble a body of professional soldiers.
‘It was said your father only killed when he had to.’
‘No Roman would do otherwise.’
The reply was sharp and it was clear by their expressions that the elders did speak some Latin, certainly enough to understand the statement made by Flavius, as well as the pride with which it had been delivered.
‘How little you know of your own kind, but boys, I suppose, must be allowed their dreams.’
Two nods, one furious shake of the head, then a remark from one of the elders that was clearly an instruction to get on with it, possibly that explanations were not necessary. Dardanies, however, seemed determined to keep providing the rationale for what had been concluded.
‘Sometimes, when he could, your father sent them back to us as a gesture of peace.’
That Flavius did not know; as he tried to disguise his surprised reaction, he was sure the Sklaveni, all four of them, had picked up on it. Somehow it seemed to please them.
‘So, it would be dishonourable for us to choose a way of proceeding that would harm you.’
‘And me?’ Ohannes demanded, still with a tone of defiance that was not appropriate.
‘You matter only in that Flavius Belisarius is too young to be set free without help.’
The youngster glanced at the Scythian to see if he was rendered grateful or annoyed; there was no evidence of either and he was required to look away. Dardanies was still speaking, this time in a tone of voice that utterly lacked cheer.
‘For the same reason I have been given the task of seeing you to a place of safety.’
‘How will you deal with Senuthius?’
‘It has ever been our approach to deal with that swine as little as is possible.’
A stream of instructions issued from one of the elders, to be countered with objections by Dardanies, yet as an argument it lacked any vigour until, abruptly, the older men left. That they did not go far, or that their dispute was far from laid to rest was obvious, given they could be heard still arguing through the soft sod walls, this as Dardanies explained what they had planned.
‘The longer we wait the more chance that word of your capture will get back to Senuthius. Therefore we will cross the river as soon as we are sure it is safe, with enough of an escort to deal with any patrols the senator has out. That done, I will carry on with you until you are well away from danger.’
‘Where will we cross?’ Flavius asked.
Dardanies seemed surprised by the question. ‘Where it is safe to do so.’
‘There is something on the southern shore I must collect.’
It was Ohannes who objected. ‘There’s no time for searching.’
‘If there is not time for that then I will not go until there is.’
‘You will go,’ Dardanies snapped, ‘when we say you will go.’
‘I will not!’
That produced on the face of the Sklaveni warrior a smile larded with curiosity. ‘If I tell that to the men who have just departed it may alter their decision.’
‘So be it.’
‘Best tell him what it is,’ Ohannes said with a sigh.
Which Flavius did, starting with the letters he had found and what they portended, which could not be anything other than beneficial to the Sklaveni: the possible impeachment of Senuthius and not only an end to his raiding for slaves but a warning to others not to take up what the senator might be damned for. He made no mention of his father’s testament, given that would do nothing to sway Dardanies, but to him it was something just as vital that he recover.
‘And where is this sack?’
‘Hanging in an oak tree, high in the branches and out of sight from the ground.’