‘But that’s-’
‘Barbaric? It is harsh, certainly, to have your heart torn from your body and held up before your dying eyes. But is it really any worse than the way that you Romans treat your captives? When I was taken prisoner by my master there,’ he pointed to Scaurus, ‘every other man of my tribe who was made captive by the Romans was chained to several other men and marched away into slavery. Not the type of slavery I have lived over the last ten years, with a respectful master who values me for my abilities, but enslavement to the arena. They were taken to be gladiators, marched away to Rome in order to provide your people with entertainment in the Flavian arena. They’re all dead now, of course, unless any of them survived long enough to win their freedom, but instead of a swift death they suffered an agony of waiting for their fate to come for them, and for Wodanaz to finally walk with them on their journey to greet their ancestors …’
He fell silent, and Scaurus looked at him for a moment longer before resuming his instructions.
‘Every archer is to carry two quivers full of arrows. Once we’re across the river we’ll depend on them for protection against our being detected as we move towards our objective. The soldiers are to carry an oval shield, a dagger, a sword and a single spear, of a design which is currently being manufactured for me by the armourers who supply the gladiatorial schools. Of course the swords will undermine our disguise as tribal warriors the moment anyone gets close enough to see them, since that much iron is a rarity among them, and they usually make do with a spear. But not a throwing spear, gentlemen, it’s something entirely more daunting, both to use and to face.’
‘Not a throwing spear? If it’s not made to be thrown then how much use can it be? Don’t tell me we’re going back to those ten-foot-long horse-poking sticks.’
Arminius spoke again, his face creased into a knowing smile.
‘Oh it can be thrown, Dubnus, we just don’t often choose to do so. The weapon my master has in mind is called a framea. And I will teach you soon enough just what it can do.’
‘I think we’re safely out of earshot, First Spear. So what is it that you wanted to discuss in private?’
Julius had suggested that he and Scaurus take a turn around the practice ground while their cohorts were exercising the next morning, and the tribune had simply extended a hand to indicate that he would follow his first spear’s lead, waiting until there was no danger of their discussion being overheard. His subordinate’s next words were every bit as blunt as he had expected them to be.
‘I don’t think that you should be planning to take Centurion Aquila with you, Tribune.’
Scaurus looked away across the ranks of sweating soldiers in silence for a moment before responding.
‘I’m inclined to agree with you. Not only is he deep in the grief of his wife’s unexpected death, but he’s clearly unbalanced. First he went on the rampage through the night-time streets and now he’s retreated into himself. All I can get out of him is monosyllabic answers for the most part. Respectful, considered, but not meaningful responses.’
Julius stopped walking, pointing with his vine stick at the nearest century and raising his voice to a bellow.
‘Rear rank, put some fucking effort into it or I’ll come over there and take my fucking stick to the lot of you!’
Both men watched the soldiers in silence for a moment, Julius smiling grimly as the men’s centurion, clearly smarting under the criticism, promptly laid about him with his own vine stick in a random but apparently highly effective display of his motivational skills.
‘So we’re agreed then, he’s in no way ready for another one of this man Cleander’s little suicide missions? You’ll order him to remain behind?’
Scaurus shook his head.
‘I’m afraid not. There’s a third opinion that you’re unaware of, but which carries a good deal more weight than mine. And it belongs to that man Cleander.’
Julius stared at him in disbelief.
‘He ordered you to take Marcus with you?’
‘Yes and very specifically.’
The chamberlain had called Scaurus back into the room as he and Marcus had made their exit at the end of his briefing as to their new task.
‘One more thing, Tribune?’
Scaurus had exchanged glances with Marcus and gestured for him to take a seat in the anteroom, turning back to Cleander with a look of apprehension as the doors were closed again. The freedman who now exercised almost untrammelled power on behalf of his master the emperor had shaken his head knowingly in his place behind the desk.
‘Don’t worry, Tribune Scaurus, I’m not intending to do you any harm. Not for the present.’
The soldier had smiled thinly.
‘Nor did I expect that you were, Chamberlain. My concern is for that man out there, not myself.’
‘Perceptive of you, not that you’re anyone’s fool.’ Cleander had leaned back in his chair. ‘And this does concern young Aquila.’
‘Yes?’
‘Under no circumstances is he to remain in Rome when you leave for Germany.’
Julius stared at his superior in disbelief.
‘Why? Why would he order you to take the man with you, unless …’
‘Unless he wants to get him killed? I asked him the same question.’
‘And …?’
Cleander had regarded Scaurus with a calculating expression.
‘What do you think he’ll do, left here to brood? Given the violence of his initial reaction to the news of his wife’s unfortunate death?’
Scaurus had mused on the question for a moment.
‘I think he’ll grieve for a month or so. And then, if he stays here, I think the constant reminders of his wife will harden his mind in ways that might not be that constructive.’
‘Indeed.’ The chamberlain’s tone had been acerbic. ‘He may very well take it into his mind to come looking for vengeance. And at that point, one of two things will happen. Either, by some fluke or stroke of fortune he will succeed in his attempt on the emperor’s life, or entirely more likely, I’ll simply be forced to make him disappear before he can try any such thing, never to be seen again. Either of which eventualities would be a shame, don’t you think?’
Scaurus had bowed fractionally in acceptance of the point.
‘I’ll take him along for the ride, although I can’t see him being of very much value in his current mental state.’
Julius grunted his agreement as the tribune replayed the end of the conversation.
‘You have that point right. He’ll either have his mind elsewhere when the time comes to face the locals or lead the detachment into a bloody-handed goat fuck that you can’t win.’
‘Which is why I plan to make Dubnus my senior centurion for the mission. Marcus will support the decision, he told me as much during our walk back from the Capitoline Hill when I’d informed him that I was going to have to drag him away from his son once more.’
Julius nodded in appreciation of the decision.
‘Dubnus? He’s a good enough choice. And it might stop him from going back to his role as the king of the axemen.’
‘Only ten men, Tribune? Surely you’ll be wanting the whole Tenth Century?’
Dubnus shook his head in amazement at his commanding officer, ignoring Marcus’s raised eyebrow, but Scaurus simply raised a hand to silence him.
‘I appreciate your zeal, Dubnus. Not to mention the fact that now you’re back in command of the Tenth you’ve reverted to type and started swaggering round like a man with balls made of bronze …’
He paused, allowing the gentle jibe to strike home, but if the big Briton was discomfited by the barb that he was emulating the pride and bombast of the officer his men had simply called the ‘Bear’, he showed no sign of it.