The sun rose slow and blood red over the hills to the east, casting a strange and eerie light across the plain, punctuated by the shadows of the lonely trees dotted about. The first hungry birds of the day called mournfully from the scant bushes and the undergrowth thronged with rustling creatures. The road from Crow Hill to the mountains passed through a number of native settlements and Varro and Salonius had passed through the first a little after midnight; the only sign of life, a dog barking at the passing riders from behind the gate of a farm.
And now, weary from a long night’s ride, Salonius turned his heavy head to the captain and cleared his throat. It had been a strangely quiet night, the two men remaining almost entirely silent throughout by mutual unspoken agreement. Now, riding in the ever brightening sunlight, the quiet seemed less necessary.
“Captain?”
“Varro” the captain reminded him.
“Yes, ok… Varro?”
“What is it, Salonius?”
The young guard shifted slightly, his stiff and achy bones clicking as he moved.
“Are we intending to sleep during the day and ride at night? I’m getting a little tired now.”
Varro shook his head.
“I think now that we’re this far out, we’ll keep going today and stop for the evening.” He pointed ahead and Salonius followed his gaze to the distant peaks and the valley snaking up ahead of them, too far yet to pick out any details.
“The valley,” Varro said, “is a clear place to stop. There’s a village near the entrance with a good inn and we should reach it late this afternoon, allowing for a couple of breaks today to rest and eat. More important, there’s an Imperial way station about an hour’s ride up the valley from the village and given our position, I really don’t want to end up waylaid there. We can stay at the inn and eat there and set off several hours before dawn tomorrow. I want to use the darkness to get well clear of any watchful eyes.”
Salonius nodded. Whoever was behind all of this had one officer poisoned and a soldier stabbed. Caution would seem to be the order of the day.
Varro glanced across at his travelling companion and raised an eyebrow.
“Think we should stop and have a break for something to eat then?”
“Oh yes, Varro. I certainly do.”
The captain grinned. “Come on then.”
Stretching as much as his saddle allowed, Varro steered his horse off the road toward a small enclosure formed by a horseshoe of thick undergrowth and a grassy bank dotted with rabbit burrows. Dismounting in the little dell, they tied the horses to the sturdiest branch of a young elm growing on the edge of the undergrowth, and rummaged in the saddle bags for more of the food packed lovingly by Martis yesterday.
Varro grasped a bag of meat cuts and cheeses and half a loaf of bread and wandered over to a protruding boulder, drawing his belt knife and the bag of Scortius’ medicine as he went. Salonius dug deep into the bag, trying to locate a shy bag of fruit. As he worked his fingers between the tightly-packed contents of the bag, the tip of his tongue protruding from the corner of his mouth, he stopped sharply, ducking his head.
“What’s up?” Varro called from his seat a few yards away.
Salonius slowly raised his head and peered around the greenery of the small elm.
“Not sure.” He raised his hand to shelter his eyes from the glare of the sun. The land was flat for several miles and the early morning sun was burning off the night’s dew, creating an eery blanket of pale mist across the fields and streams. Shapes emerged before his eyes, at first glance riders or monsters, which quickly resolved into the shape of harmless trees or large bushes. He sighed and shook his head.
“Nothing. Seeing things. All this riding and no sleep, I suspect.”
By the time he turned, Varro was already standing beside him.
“Don’t be too quick to dismiss your instincts, Salonius. I had a feeling several hours ago that I saw someone keeping pace with us about half a mile away. If we’ve been followed all the way from Crow Hill, they’re at their most vulnerable today. Tonight they could get to the way-station and send messages if they needed. But at this point they’re still too far away from any Imperial outpost. I think we’d best be moving on as soon as we’ve had a bite to eat.”
The younger man frowned.
“D’you think we should try and make it out of the valley unseen and come round the other side of the hill?”
“No point,” Varro shook his head. “They obviously know we’re here and, unless they saw you duck down, our biggest advantage lies in them not knowing that we know about them.”
“Good point. On as though nothing’s out of the ordinary then.”
The two men sat in thoughtful silence for a few minutes munching on bread and cheese until Varro realised that his companion was watching him with interest.
“What?”
“I can’t understand it, sir.”
“Can’t understand what?” replied the captain patiently.
“Why anyone would want to kill you, I mean.” Salonius shuffled nervously on his rock, aware that he was treading dangerous ground. “The high command respects you, the other senior officers all like you and defer to you, you’ve got the most loyal junior officers in the army and your men love you, sir. I know the engineers are the most isolated and shunned unit in the army, and even the engineers respect you. So who would do this?”
Varro gave a weary laugh.
“If I knew that I don’t think we’d be in this position, but I’m afraid I’m probably just a casualty of something a lot bigger than me.”
“Your cousin’s message” nodded Salonius. “That soldier was killed to prevent the message reaching the fort and you were…“ He faltered for a moment. “What happened to you was for the same reason. So…”
“So whatever’s behind all this has something to do with Petrus and the Saravis Fork fort. And that means it’s possible that prefect Cristus is tied into this somehow, given his connections with Saravis Fork. But we can’t rule out anyone just because there’s no obvious connection. Whatever you say, I’ve made a few enemies in my time.”
Salonius sat back and folded away the remains of the cheese and meat.
“Well I suppose we’ll find out more when we get there.”
The two men stood and packed their saddle bags once more, keeping a surreptitious but keen eye out on the landscape as they did so. There was no further sign of movement and the early morning mist was beginning to burn off, leaving verdant green stretching away to the distant hills. Untethering the horses, they mounted and navigated their way out of the undergrowth, back onto the road.
The miles passed by quickly and quietly as the sun climbed steadily higher, picking up a warmth that had been absent the previous day. The sporadic birdsong gave way gradually to a day filled with chirruping, the hum of bees among the flowers by the road, the distant sounds of lowing cattle and other farm noises, and the steady crunch of their hooves on the gravel of the road. Conversation had been occasional and brief, both riders acutely aware of their surroundings and taking pains to notice any and all movement within sight while apparently remaining oblivious to any observer.
As the sun had passed its zenith and begun the slow descent toward the hills and the western ocean, the pair stopped at a ruined barn and consumed a few more chunks of bread and meat in a sheltered and defensible position. Once again finishing their meal and packing away the remains, Salonius was withdrawing his hand from the bag when Varro grasped his hand and pointed out of a window, the glass long gone, frame rotting and sill covered with ivy.
“Look there!”
Salonius followed the direction and spotted two figures on horseback. The riders were perhaps half a mile distant, visible where they’d broken cover of the few sparse trees. There could be little doubt of their unsavoury intentions, given the fact that they moved so swiftly and surreptitiously across open countryside parallel with the road. He squinted but could make out little detail other than their being covered with dark cloaks.
“They’re getting ahead of us. Perhaps they lost us?”
Varro shook his head. “They know exactly where we are. They’re just taking the opportunity while we’re busy to cover the open ground quickly so they can get back in cover and wait for us to pass.”
“Then we go on as normal?”
“Yes,” Varro nodded.
“What do you plan to do about them?” the young man asked as he tied the thongs on the saddle bag.
“I’ve been thinking about that. I think we’ll have to deal with them tonight. The village is a crossing point for the valley road. It’s the only bridge across the river and the water up there’s quite fast and deep. The riders could theoretically go round, but it’s a little precarious in places and not something you’d try in the dark.”
“So they’ll have to go through the village?” Salonius frowned.
“Likely. If it were still light they could get ahead round the hillside and off to the Imperial outpost, but then they’d lose track of us, so I think they’ll stay within sight. That means we need to slow down slightly. I want to reach the inn as it gets dark, so that they’re forced to either cross the bridge where we can see them or camp down somewhere this side of the village.”
The young man smiled.
“And whatever they do, we’ll know where they are.”
Varro nodded.
“But tonight I think we’ll probably have to take care of them. I want to get a closer look at who we’re dealing with here.”
The two mounted up once more and rode on toward the village nestled between steep, protective hillsides and pierced by a swift young river pouring down from the mountains.
Their pace slowed barely noticeably, and Varro and Salonius first caught sight of the village as the last arc of the sun disappeared over the valley side, plunging the floor into gloom. The valley was surprisingly narrow at this point, two rocky spurs jutting out from the hills and almost meeting like pincers. In the gap lay strewn a collection of buildings, mostly constructed in northern Imperial style with a dark grey stone base reaching as high as the windows, surmounted by timber uppers. Some houses consisted of only a single floor, that being the favoured style of many of the northern peoples, but here and there some buildings also had an upper floor like the townhouses and apartment blocks of the more southern Imperial cities. Through the centre of the village flowed the river, not wide, but deep and fast, filling the valley with a background roar.
Salonius took the opportunity to cast a glance behind him but saw no sign of their pursuers. In fact they’d not seen them for several hours now, and the young soldier was beginning to worry they’d gone ahead through the village already.
There were few signs of life as they approached the outermost buildings. These were farms, the continual sound of roaring water now joined with the bleating of sheep and the squawking of chickens in their enclosure. The two men rode slowly across the narrow stone bridge and squinted ahead. Darkness had descended swiftly since the sun set and the grey stone and dark oak constructions loomed as deeper shadows within the gloom. A few houses showed signs of flickering lights within. Tallow candles, Salonius thought. Oil was expensive this far north and a poor hill-farming village would be unlikely to have a regular supply.
The inn stood overlooking the central space of the village, a green with a constantly flowing spring from a boulder pile that fed a small stone trough before trickling down a runnel and into the river. Salonius smiled appreciatively as he took in the welcoming sight of a large, well lit double storey building. The door was of the stable variety, separated into upper and lower panels. The lower was latched shut; the upper standing open and casting a welcoming yellow glow onto the dark ground outside.
Wordlessly the two men dismounted and led their horses to the door. Varro handed the reins to his companion and went inside, disappearing from view for a couple of minutes as he approached the bar. Salonius stood quietly holding the reins, taking the opportunity to look around in a bored fashion and observe his surroundings. The bridge was narrow and of stone. There was little hope of any rider crossing it quietly, so Varro was right. Unless their pursuers had taken the chance to get ahead this afternoon, they would have to stay in the valley for the night, presumably close enough to be able to keep an eye on the village and their quarry. So long as he and Varro alternated sleep they could watch the bridge easily from the inn. He smiled.
“Over here!” Varro’s voice called from around the side of the building.
Salonius led the horses at a walk around the building and to the stables where Varro waited with a boy in an apron. The stable hand reached up and took the reins, while the two guests collected their various bags and important belongings from the saddles, after which he led the horses to their accommodation for the night. Varro and Salonius watched him disappear, noting where their mounts would be stabled, and then strode in through the side door, into the inn. Varro stopped by the entrance and spoke to his companion in a hushed voice.
“I’ve arranged a room at the other side of the inn; the direction we entered the village. I’ll explain when we’re up there.”
The two swiftly passed through the warm, welcoming bar and trotted lightly up the stairs to the rear. At the end of the corridor, Varro stopped and fumbled with a key until the lock released with a click and the door swung open. Salonius crossed the room and dropped the bag on the floor before approaching the window and peering around the side of the frame into the darkness beyond.
The window looked out over the bridge and into the distance down the valley. The advantages of the view were clear. Varro joined him and pointed at an angle down the alley at the inn’s side. Salonius peered into the shadowy space and noted the low wooden roof of an outhouse only a few feet away: an easy exit without alerting any of the inn’s patrons. He smiled.
“For an unnoticed start in the morning?”
Varro nodded and dropped his kit next to the other bag.
“That and more. As soon as we’re settled, we’re going out to find our friends and see what they’re up to.”
The moon was high but partially obscured by scudding clouds as Varro and Salonius slid the table bearing their dirtied dinner plates away from the window and the captain climbed through, surprisingly nimbly, Salonius thought, given both his age and his current state of health. As the younger man approached the window ready to follow suit, he saw Varro swing from the sill and land with a soft thud on the gently-sloping insulated wooden roof of the outhouse.
Salonius climbed through and swung across to the roof quietly and dextrously, landing in a crouch. He glanced down into the alley to see that Varro had dropped lightly to the dirt floor. Following, the young soldier joined him in the shadowy street. Quickly, the pair dusted themselves off and unwrapped the linen scarves they’d bound around the hilts of their swords to prevent unnecessary noise during the descent.
“Are we taking the horses?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.
“No,” Varro replied squaring his shoulders. “Too noisy. And they’ll be near enough to see the inn, so they can’t be far beyond that farm. Follow me.”
Salonius nodded and the two moved softly to the rear of the inn. Ducking around the back of the next house they could see a short alleyway that led to a patch of darkness from which came the sounds of rushing water. Taking a deep breath, Varro jogged quietly down the alley and to the bank of the river. Clearly too far to jump and too fast to wade or swim, the only crossing point would still be the bridge. Turning the corner once more, they made their way along the river bank towards the bridge.
“Do you think they’ll be watching it?” Salonius whispered as they came to a halt a few yards away in the shadow of the last building.
“Definitely. Certainly one of them will be awake.”
“So what’s the plan?” the young man queried.
“We’ve a choice. Least visible route is to climb along the outside.” He pointed to a very narrow lip where the tile bonding layer jutted out of the grey stone. “It’ll be dangerous, ‘coz there’s not much of a lip and it’s bound to be slippery. The alternative is we take the chance and run across.”
“And hope they’re looking away at that point? Bit risky.”
“The side it is, then” agreed Varro.
Another deep breath in preparation and the captain darted across the small space to the bridge, ducking below the parapet and grasping the capstones tightly. With a last glance back at Salonius, Varro began to shuffle slowly along the side of the bridge with gently scraping noises that were almost completely drowned out by the rushing water.
The young man watched with some trepidation, his breath held and his heart pounding in his chest. He almost jumped out into the open as he saw Varro’s foot slip on the narrow lip and for a heart-stopping moment the man hung above the torrent by his fingertips before regaining his hold and shuffling along to the safety of the far bank. As he dropped silently into the long grass and climbed up the bank, he waved across to Salonius.
The young soldier ducked across the gap and dropped down the bank, grasping the top of the wall. With a grunt, he began to pull himself across, relying mostly on the strength of his arms and using the tips of his toes on the ledge mainly for balance. In what felt like hours, yet was really only moments, he reached the far bank and dropped gratefully to the grass next to Varro. The older man slapped him quietly and encouragingly on the shoulder and paused long enough for the pair of them to get their breath back.
With a deep breath, he gestured to Salonius to follow and moved along the outer wall of the farm.
“We’ll head round the back and out of the village that way. They’ll be concentrating on the inn, the bridge and the road, so we should be safe.”
Salonius nodded and joined the captain, slowly creeping along the wall. Somewhere nearby a dog barked and both men stopped for a tense moment before moving on as quietly as possible. A few minutes later they had rounded the back of the farm and were picking their way between a hen run and a rickety wooden shed with slats missing. Passing the last of the net fencing, they reached a gooseberry bush that provided the last cover before open ground.
The two men stopped and scanned their surroundings. Varro turned to face his young companion.
“If you were wanting somewhere to camp down unnoticed and get a good view of the bridge and the inn, where would you be?”
Salonius squinted into the darkness. The valley side was a steep grassy slope, pockmarked with rabbit warrens and punctuated with small rocks. Where the slope began to flatten out was a collection of large boulders that would be perfect were it not for the view was too restrictive to be of use. A wide area of open grass used for grazing goats would offer no protection. Close to the road was a small copse. It would be uncomfortable to camp in, certainly, but offered both cover and a clear view. Across the road much the same land stretched away to the bare slope of the valley side. A messy wooden structure stood in the open ground amid a wide circle of churned mud. He couldn’t see it from here, but remembered passing it on the way into the village. A cow byre.
“Two possible locations, sir” the young man frowned. “The copse and the shed.”
“Which one, though?”
Salonius shook his head uncertainly. “Could be either. The copse’d be uncomfortable, but no one’s going to come across them there and they’ve a good view. The shed would be warmer and more comfortable, but there’s the possibility of the farmer finding them.”
Varro nodded.
“But it’s night time. All the farm animals are safely tucked up in their beds. Can you hear a cow?”
“No.” Salonius frowned. “You mean they’ve killed all the cows?”
“We’re talking about people who’ve killed at least an officer and a courier. Do you think they’d baulk at removing a farmer and a few cows?”
The young man peered into the darkness, trying to take the measure of the building.
“So what do we do now, sir?”
“If they’re watching the bridge and the inn then it’s unlikely they can see the rest of the valley. We head to the rocks, then round the trees and down the valley a way before we cross the road and come up behind the shed from the other side.”
Without waiting for acknowledgement from the young soldier, Varro jogged quietly and swiftly away from their cover and disappeared in the gloom around the pile of boulders at the foot of the valley side.
His heart beginning to beat faster once more, Salonius followed suit, sprinting and keeping low. Though it had seemed such a distance when he first looked, he reached the boulders in mere moments and disappeared among them, panting. He found the captain also wheezing and clutching his side, leaning on one of the larger stones.
“Are you alright, sir?”
“Hurts a bit. I’ll have to dip into the medicines when we get back to the inn.”
Without further comment, he took several deep breaths, pushing back his shoulders, and then strode out from the boulders. For several hundred yards their movements would be hidden from the cow byre by the trees and once beyond that they would be far enough away to be masked by the darkness itself. Salonius followed once more, falling in alongside the older man and noting unhappily the way Varro held his side as he walked.
“If the moon comes out from behind the clouds we’re going to be a lot more visible,” he noted. Varro shrugged.
“If the moon comes out we just have to drop to the grass and wait for another cloud.”
The two walked on for a while in silence until Varro judged that they’d gone as far as they needed to, and then as quickly and lightly as they could, they slipped across the road and ran across to the relative cover of the undergrowth on the valley side. Once among the low scrub, they stopped for another rest, leaning forward with their hands on their hips, breathing deeply.
Varro looked across at Salonius and shrugged. The young man nodded and the two began to move toward the byre, now a vague, looming darker shape amid the greater darkness. They moved slowly and carefully. There was little chance the occupants would be watching anywhere but the village, so speed was of far less importance than silence. Picking their way between the scratchy, rustling plants as quietly as possible, they edged closer and closer to the barn, the rough planks from which it was constructed gradually becoming visible in the gloom.
Salonius regarded his superior, three steps ahead, with a worried look. It was clear that all this sudden exercise and movement had stirred up trouble with the captain’s wound. Perhaps it had even opened up once again and he could be bleeding to death as they moved. Salonius wouldn’t be able to tell until they reached a patch of light. The state of Varro added to his collection of concerns as he moved. What if the cows had been locked up somewhere else and the barn was empty. Where would they look then? What if their pursuers had already gone ahead and were at the Imperial way station? What if, and this one had been nagging at him all afternoon: what if these men turned out to be innocent? Or even allies?
He realised his pace had slowed and he was gaining distance on the captain out ahead.
“Damn it” he muttered under his breath and picked up the pace a little. It was no good surrendering to doubt now.
By the time he’d caught up with Varro, the two were mere yards from the shed. At least one of his fears was allayed as they ducked across the open space, the mud fortunately dry due to the recent lack of rain. As they crouched by the wall of the barn, Salonius could hear the murmur of hushed conversation within. He strained to hear more, but the detail was still indistinct. There were clearly two men talking in very low tones.
Varro shuffled silently along the wall to where low flickers of yellow light shone out through a hole in the boards. He peered through and then beckoned Salonius to join him.
Inside the barn were two men. One, lying on a rough bed of straw, was wrapped tightly in a blanket with a saddle blanket rolled up beneath his head. The other sat at the barn’s window, gazing out toward the village in the distance. He was dressed in rough tunic and breeches. Not a military uniform tunic, but that of a civilian, yet on the belt fastened round his waist was a solid Imperial military sword. A quick glance back confirmed that a second sword lay next to the reclining man, within arm’s reach. Salonius craned his neck to look further back into the byre and noted with distaste the source of the smell wafting gently through the window. Half a dozen cows lay in various positions to the rear where they’d been led and, without a moment’s thought, had their throats cut. Salonius felt unaccountably queasy.
Varro nudged him and pointed to the watcher and then tapped himself quietly on the chest. With two fingers making a walking motion, he mimed moving around the shed to the window and then lightly patted his sword. Salonius nodded his understanding and pointed at the door of the barn. The large door was held shut with only a length of twine, designed, as it was, to be shut from the outside. He mimed cutting the twine with his blade and then pointed at the reclining figure. Varro nodded agreement and held out his hand. Salonius grasped it and shook once before slowly and quietly drawing his sword. Varro did the same and, with a single nod, began to creep slowly and quietly around the wall.
Salonius sloped off in the opposite direction, to the door. There were cracks around the door and he’d have to be careful not to be observed. He took up the best hidden position where he could see the tied twine through a crack which would be wide enough to thrust his sword through. His heart racing, he sought another crack and, finding the best, quietly waited, watching the man at the window. Irritatingly, now he was somewhere he could hear, they’d stopped talking. With bated breath he waited.
His first sign that Varro had made a move startled him. There was an unpleasant ‘crunch’ and a faint squawk from the man at the window. Even as Salonius thrust his sword between the planks and severed the twine with ease, he watched with fascinated horror as the man at the window slumped slowly backwards and fell to the floor, a gaping hole where his eyes had been and a multicoloured slick of unpleasantness pouring from the wound. He twitched for a moment, gurgling, as Salonius pulled the door open. Varro had appeared at the window now, a grim look of determination on his face and his sword running with the man’s blood.
The man lying wrapped in a blanket had grasped his sword and was coming to his feet quickly, his eyes flickering between the messy corpse on the floor and the vision of bloodlust at the window. So intent on Varro was he that he never noticed the door swing open behind him and never saw the stocky young soldier leap across behind him, his sword raised high.
With a grim smiled, Salonius brought down the bronze pommel of his sword hard on the very top of the man’s head, knocking him unconscious instantly. The man slumped to the floor.
Varro glared at him.
“You think we’ve time to take prisoners?”
Salonius shrugged defensively.
“I’d rather know who they are before I kill them, sir.”
Growling, Varro rounded the wall of the shed and stormed in through the door. As he leaned down and wiped his sword on the dead man’s tunic, he glared up at his companion.
“You think they’re innocent men?” he barked. “They’re in civilian clothes with no insignia or sign of rank. Yet they’re armed like soldiers and following us. You want more?”
Salonius stood silently.
Varro kicked the fallen body.
“This one I don’t know but I think he might have been one of the provosts from Crow Hill.”
He pointed at the unconscious man.
“That bastard, on the other hand, I know. I know the face. He’s one of the prefect’s guard.”
Salonius shrank back from the force of the captain’s anger. Varro walked over and pressed his finger into Salonius’ chest.
“You brained him; you carry him.”
“Yes, sir.”
Sheathing his sword, the young man bent down and lifted the unconscious soldier easily, slinging him across his shoulder. As he settled his burden more comfortably, Varro collected the saddle bags from the pile in the room and shouldered them. With a single angry glance at Salonius, he strode purposefully out of the shed and toward the road that led to the bridge.
The young man hurried after him, giving a worried glance back at the interior.
“Sir?” he called as he jogged to catch up.
“What?” barked Varro furiously.
“What about the mess. Shouldn’t we hide the body? And find their horses, sir?”
Varro stopped dead and Salonius almost fell over him. He turned and pointed back at the barn.
“Firstly, if you’d been more aware of your surroundings and less worried about the ethical consequences of what you were doing, you’d have seen that the farmer was lying gutted in the back of the barn behind the cows. No one’s going to find that till tomorrow morning; afternoon probably. We’ll be long gone by then.”
He started to walk again, slowly, and Salonius strode alongside, a contrite expression clouding his features.
“Secondly: we don’t need their horses. We’ve got our own, and I’ve got their saddle bags. There’ll be nothing at the horses that we could use.”
He glanced sideways at the younger man.
“Thirdly, you have got to stop calling me sir!” He sighed.
Salonius smiled weakly.
“I’m sorry. It’s hard. Years as a soldier and these things become ingrained. You know that? I’m finding it hard to stop. Whether you’re with the second or on your own, you’re still a captain. You’re still my superior, and it’s wrong.”
Varro opened his mouth to speak, but Salonius plunged on.
“I know I’ve got to. I know we need to be as unobtrusive as possible at the moment and that ‘captain’ and ‘sir’ draw attention, and I am trying. Time will change things.”
“That’s part of the problem, Salonius,” Varro groused. “I’m running out of time. Every hour that passes for you brings you closer to promotion, or retirement. You might end up owning an inn like that.” He pointed across the bridge at their destination.
“That’s what I always planned. But every hour that brings you closer to your future brings me closer to a hole in the ground.”
He stormed along in silence, his head bowed as he crunched along the gravel leading up to the bridge. There was no need for subtlety now.
“I’m sorry.”
The captain turned to Salonius.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I’m dealing with this, but sometimes it feels hopeless.”
Salonius gave what he hoped was a supportive smiled.
“What you’re doing matters. What we’re doing matters. We’re fated for this. The Gods themselves set us on this path and who can argue with the Gods. And the future’s unknown to us, for all the Gods might read it. My sergeant says that Scortius is the best doctor in the whole army. If there’s a way to cure you, he’ll find it. But we’ve got to pursue this; get to Saravis Fork and find your cousin. If whatever this is is so important people will kill to stop it, then we need to find it.”
Varro looked down at his companion and finally his brow unfurrowed and a smile passed briefly across his face.
“You put a lot of faith in this Cernus, don’t you?”
“With respect,” the young man replied with a grin, “it’s because of the Stag Lord you found me. When you were wounded you wanted something to drink. On the way to the hospital tent you must had passed more than a hundred men; sergeants, engineers, archers, infantry and medics. How many of those men know Cernus?”
Varro blinked.
“Perhaps a handful,” continued Salonius. “And of that handful of men who’d heard of Cernus out of the hundreds around you, how many do you think had stood in his presence?”
“I never thought of that” replied the captain, blinking again in surprise.
“Fate. Gods. A path.” Salonius smiled. “Cernus blessed you because there is something you have to do. Something really important.” He grinned. “And because you couldn’t do it alone, Cernus blessed me and sent me to you. These events have been rolling forward since before I even joined the army.”
Their voices lowered a little as they entered the village square. The light still shone from the front door and window of the inn. It felt like midnight to the two men who hadn’t slept in two days, but in truth it was still only mid evening.
“I need a drink.” Varro grinned.
Salonius frowned at him.
“Not if you’re taking that strong medication though.”
“I’ll forego that and just take the normal medication and a little of the hard stuff from the shelf behind the bar.”
The two of them dipped into the alley beside the inn and Varro looked at Salonius and pointed to the body slumped over his shoulder.
“I’ll climb up to the roof and lift him from there.”
“Ok.” Salonius shifted the weight slightly and stood still, his legs slightly apart, braced ready. Varro grasped a wooden plank that projected slightly from the wall of the outbuilding and hauled himself onto the roof with a grunt. Salonius took the opportunity to study the captain’s side as he did so and was surprised to see no blood. Perhaps he was worrying too much about the wound. Bracing himself further, he lifted the body to the roof level and felt the weight lift as Varro grasped it and heaved it onto the roof. A casual whistle caught his attention and he ducked back into the shadows next to the outbuilding, his eyes darting to and fro searching for the source of the noise.
A figure, whistling happily and weaving a drunken path, wandered into the alley from the front of the inn. Salonius held his breath and watched in morbid fascination as the man entered the shadows near the alley entrance and fumbled with his trousers before urinating, mostly on the wall of the next house, but partially on his own feet.
“Bollocks” he muttered as he shook his foot, tying his trousers tight once more. Still shaking the piss off his foot, he left the alley without looking back and started to walk across the green. A moment later and he was gone from sight, the only sign of his presence a distant happy whistle.
Heaving a sigh of relief, Salonius stepped back away from the wall and looked up to see Varro convulsed in a fit of silent hysterics, rocking back and forth. Grinning, the young soldier grasped the plank and pulled himself up to join his captain.
Varro wiped his eyes, burst into muffled laughter again and the stopped with a deep breath. “Precious. Absolutely precious.” Clapping his hand on Salonius’ back, he reached across from the roof and grasped the windowsill. He hauled himself up, still facing Salonius, and braced himself in the frame.
“Alright. Pass him up.”
Salonius stretched with a grunt, thrusting the unconscious body towards the window. Varro grabbed him by the shoulder and hauled him up, swearing under his breath.
“Heavy bastard, this one.”
As the body came through the window and Varro was suddenly relieved of the heavy weight, he fell backwards into the room, collapsing to the floor on his back to find himself staring up into eyes shining with curiosity.
He started suddenly and, as his eyes adjusted to the room’s darkened interior, found himself staring into the smiling face of Catilina.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded. Behind him there was a scraping noise as Salonius pulled himself through the window and dropped down next to the body where he crouched, staring in surprise at the lady sitting on the edge of the bed.
Catilina looked down at the captain.
“You can’t possibly think I was going to let you trot off on your own. Even with your ever-present guardian there.”
Varro sat up, shaking his head.
“Your father’s going to be furious with you. He’ll never let you leave Vengen again. Shit, he’ll have me pulled apart by horses when he knows you’re with me!”
Catilina sighed and her eyes twinkled mischievously.
“Let me handle father. You know I can. Besides which, he’s so busy with everything going on at Crow Hill, he’s probably not even noticed I’ve left yet.” She looked at Varro’s expression and put her finger on his lips as he opened his mouth, squeezing them gently shut again.
“Just don’t bother trying to dissuade me. You know it won’t work, so why waste both our time. If your cousin is alive, we’re going to see him. Besides,” she smiled at him, “if this is some military conspiracy, don’t you think I’m safer here than among thousands of potential enemies at the fort?”
Varro stared at her in a mixture of panic and admiration. He was used to dealing with conflicting emotions when it came to Catilina. He also knew that she was right. Once she’d made up her mind, nothing would change it. Not Varro; not her father; probably not even the Gods themselves. Besides, what would he do, send her back on her own? Safer to keep her with him until he returned from Saravis Fork. Safer. Safer away. “Cristus’ guard!”
“What?” Catilina stared at him.
“Your father.” Varro said, slapping his forehead.
“What are you talking about, Varro?”
“If the prefect’s guard are following me and killing farmers, then there’s a good chance the prefect himself is involved. And if that’s the case and your father’s investigating this, every day he stays in Crow Hill, surrounded by Cristus’ men, he’s in danger.”
Catilina narrowed her eyes.
“The men following you are Cristus’?”
“One certainly was. I know his face well.” He crouched down and rolled the unconscious body over so she could see his face. “This man had lost money to me in dice games. He’s definitely one of them.”
“And the others?” Catilina asked, staring into the peaceful face of the unconscious man.
Salonius stepped into the centre of the room.
“Excuse me, my lady, but you knew about them. And what do you mean ‘others’?”
Catilina sat back and stretched.
“I saw them leave the fort; four of them all cloaked up and secretive. I’ve been a mile or so behind them all the way. They’re not particularly observant.”
“Shit!”
Varro turned to Salonius.
“There’s two more somewhere. They could already be at the way station up the valley.”
The young man nodded and pointed at the body near the window.
“I suspect our friend will know where they are.”
Varro pushed his shoulders back and rubbed his side.
“Well he’s not waking up in a hurry. Get him tethered and gagged. Make sure he’s absolutely secured and push him under the bed. I doubt he’ll wake til the morning anyway, but I don’t want to lose him.”
He turned to Catilina.
“I think we need to talk. Can I buy you a drink?”
She flashed him a devastating smile.
“It’s been a long time since you’ve said that, my little rabbit.”
Varro smiled for a moment and then noticed Salonius grinning in the background.
“And you can stop smirking and get to work on him. When he’s secure, come downstairs and join us. I’ll get you a drink in.”
“With pleasure, sir.”
Varro glared at Salonius and then turned to escort the lady in her travelling clothes down the stairs to the bar.