‘Have to hope the beam holds then, won’t we, him bein’ such a weight.’
‘And if they come along too late for me and examine what you have done at his bidding, they might just take the rope to you.’
‘Enough!’ Nepo snarled, his mood of humour evaporating. ‘If you don’t stop wittering on about what can only be tall-tale telling, I’ll have you gagged.’
‘They will draw and quarter you, as well,’ Flavius shouted, his voice desperate, ‘all of you, if you harm me.’
Nepo got to his feet and turned away to shout to his companions, going about their allotted tasks, the wineskin swinging in his hand, head back and his call seemingly aimed at the higher branches of the trees.
‘Hear that lads, we are all for the butcher’s table …’
If he had intended to say more that was made impossible by the near removal of his head. The blade on the pollarding tool was serrated and as sharp as any sword, so it ripped through Nepo’s gullet as if it were an overripe pear. Flavius had barely registered the way the shaft had been employed, only seeing it at the point where the end made deadly contact.
The sounds from around the perimeter of the clearing went from loud shouts of alarm to screams, some of severe pain, one a plea for mercy, swiftly cut short. The man who stepped out from behind the tree to which he had been tied did not look at Flavius until it had all gone quiet.
‘Bassus!’ he cried, just as Dardanies appeared from the side of the clearing, then Ohannes, both with blood dripping off their swords, this while someone cut his hands free. Falling forward onto his knees – he had been straining at his bonds – he found himself looking into the dead eyes of Nepo, staring from a head that had ended up near to his feet.
‘God be praised,’ said the man who had killed him, crossing himself, this as Flavius began to weep tears of relief. ‘We must say prayers and thank him for your deliverance.’
Which the whole party did, all nine kneeling to say thanks to God, Bassus employing a deep bass voice to call on his maker and theirs. No attention was given to the souls of those departed and neither were they moved from where they had fallen, merely stripped of their arms and any armour, which would now adorn the men Bassus led, and divested of their clothes to look for concealed valuables, Flavius’s purse being returned. When they departed, the rabbits and dead birds went with them.
The cadavers remained, food for creatures of the forest.
‘I think the Lord knows he owes you some good fortune,’ Ohannes said, as they made their way back to the highway. ‘For it needed his hand to see this done.’
Having woken to find Flavius gone, they had assumed he had just wandered off to relieve himself, the truth only dawning when he failed to return. That he was absent for any time without his weapons and his still-sacking-wrapped breastplate, as well as his bag of documents, led to a search of the nearby ground and that showed evidence to a hunting man like Dardanies of many feet having trodden down the leaf mould.
By the time they had concluded that Flavius must have been abducted – and there could be only one cause in which that would happen – the roadway was once more full of those making their way south. Amongst the throng were Bassus and his original band of five companions, they being more than willing to take part in a search for folk Ohannes informed them were rabid Monophysites, working for an evil bishop of the same persuasion.
Nepo and his companions had been careless too; following the previous day’s rain, which had dampened the forest floor even under the highest trees, they left sections of trail fresh enough to follow, although with many a break that had the searchers casting around to pick it up again. When it came to closing in, Nepo and his men made that easy: they were far from as alert as they should have been, trusting in the security of the deep forest and thinking there was only a pair of companions with any interest in rescue, a number they could deal with. At the very last his rescuers had been able to close in the last few paces before beginning the killing without worrying overmuch about noise.
‘I got to the back of that tree without being seen, young fellow,’ Bassus said, patting his ample stomach to indicate that the width of the multiple growths had hidden even him from view. ‘That heretic I killed was too busy with his wineskin to keep a proper watch, and the rest, well he took their eye with his bellowing.’
‘Heretic?’
‘Your companion Ohannes told me he was that and are we not on our way to put such vipers in their place? If only we could have done the same for the apostate who sent them.’
‘I told him of the nature of our bishop,’ Ohannes added quickly.
‘They will not be reasoned out of their foolishness,’ Bassus boomed, ‘and that leaves only one way to damn their creed. They are no better than pagans.’
‘You would kill them too?’ Flavius asked.
‘I would give them a chance to come to God, but if they refused his blessing, well …’
Dardanies had the good sense to cross himself when he heard those words, though if his expression looked pious to the likes of Bassus, Flavius knew better. In time he managed to sidle over to Ohannes while also distancing himself from Bassus, the point to be made in whispers that it was dangerous for the Sklaveni to stay with them: it was time for him to depart.
Separating from Bassus and his band would be impossible now and for Dardanies to remain in company was to risk his true beliefs being discovered, Flavius sure that even facing death he would not accept the Eucharist. Expecting an argument, he and Ohannes were pleased when, having got enough distance away from prying ears and stopped for what should be the last night before joining Vitalian’s host, Dardanies concurred.
‘Though I was tempted to stay with you all the way to Constantinople, which must be a sight to see. Perhaps one day …’
‘You would not believe the evidence of your own eyes if you gazed upon it,’ Ohannes replied.
‘How will you depart?’ Flavius asked.
‘Easy in such a crowd, which will grow greater the closer we get to the camp of your foederati. I will get lost among them, then slip away and do what that fellow Nepo intended, stay hidden in the woods until the road returns to normal and a man can go north without being questioned as to his faith.’
‘Then I should give you my thanks now.’
‘Mine also,’ said Ohannes.
‘And I should give you back your second purse.’
‘You may need it, so keep it.’
Dardanies shook his head and pressed the small skin sack into the hand of Flavius. ‘You will need it more.’
‘You’re a good man, Dardanies, hard as you try to come across as being not so.’
‘The gods forbid we should meet north of the Danube – I might give you cause to change your mind.’
‘You still have not told us why you accepted such a task as this.’
That got Flavius a jaundiced look. ‘Does it matter?’
‘To me, yes.’
As he sat on the other side of a fire, the flames caught the Sklaveni’s eyes and there was in them a sort of sadness. Given he stayed silent so did the others, for it seemed to speak would not get him to open up, quite the reverse, so they waited while he considered his response, Flavius wondering if he was considering giving one at all.
‘It was a punishment,’ Dardanies said finally.
‘For what?’ Flavius demanded, which got a glare from Ohannes, a clear indication to shut up and let the man take his own time, which he did, not speaking again for what seemed like an age, the light from the fire reddening his cheeks.
‘It was I who encouraged members of my tribe to join in with the Huns, I who led them across the river.’ The eyes were focused on the fire now, the expression fixed, as if the memories were unpleasant. ‘When your father got between us and the river, I thought we were doomed, thought of the family I would never see again …’