‘A night raid?’
Again the eyes ranged around the enclosing woods, forests that the locals could very likely move through without giving away their presence. ‘It will be if we are camped and sleeping in a place such as this.’
‘Then there will be eyes on us now?’
‘There will, but I would not like to seek to find them. We’re safer in the open than on the turf they will call home.’
Flavius smiled; this older man was probably just taking precautions against the impetuosity of youth, unaware that he had no need to issue such a warning: they were on a mission to find Vitalian and that was paramount. He mused that whoever might be trailing them had to be a native and that must constrain the amount of distance they would move from their hearths.
‘They will not stay with us more than one day, will they?’
‘No, which makes tonight they’re only chance.’ Karas grunted. ‘Should have fetched along a hound or two.’
‘We will post sentinels, Karas.’
‘Who I have known to fall asleep, even facing the wheel. Dogs you can rely on.’
‘I think it best we don our armour, Karas, let them see what they are up against. It will make whoever is out there think.’
That got a jaundiced look; in the last two days they had been riding and walking in loose garments that suited the heat and humidity. Armour meant the padded jackets that lay beneath it for the body and an extra layer on the thighs, arms and lower legs, thus a high degree of discomfort.
‘I would rather deter than let them raid and steal.’
The order was not well received yet that was well disguised — insubordination was too risky even with what seemed to be a soft officer, so the Excubitors were fully kitted out and sweating for it with short order. Flavius did not want any risk that their uniforms should be stolen; that would leave them looking very unmilitary in a situation in which he required appearances to be correct. Thus clad, they unloaded the packhorses and piled their belongings in what was to be the very centre of their encampment, near a large and kept flaming fire by which they took it in turns to sleep on what turned out to be an uneventful night.
At dawn, and after a breakfast of hard biscuit and water, they remounted and got back on to the road. Finding a long stretch to be seemingly in good repair, Flavius gave the order first to canter then to gallop. That was held longer than seemed wise given, once he called them back to a trot, it left the horses with their heads down and their mouths flecked with froth. Nor did he then dismount and walk them, he kept up a pace that seemed excessive until, earlier than would have been normal, a halt was called at yet another stream-dissected forest glade, though this time of greater size than hitherto.
‘Now,’ came the next command, which was not the usual order to remove saddles and see to the mounts, ‘since we will have outrun anyone trailing us, let us lay for them some traps before they can catch up.’
‘If we’ve outrun them, Your Honour,’ Karas responded, part in question but also in part acknowledgement.
As a boy Flavius had hunted rabbits and small game and so it seemed had many of his soldiers, but this was different: little snares would be no good against human thieving. Stakes were cut from the surrounding branches, sharpened and set in the ground. One of his men had the notion of swinging rocks that would cover the gaps between the trees, their release set off by someone disturbing the tie on the ground. Likewise saplings were bent and secured so they would spring back and wound if disturbed.
Only then could the horses be looked to, fed and watered before being hobbled in lines. Lastly, as would have happened anyway and before it became dark, another large fire was created on which the whole unit could cook their food and one which, if kept fed, would illuminate much of the ground on which the majority would at any time be asleep, albeit fully clad and ready to defend themselves.
Flavius knew he would not be one of them; even if Karas volunteered to do likewise, the responsibility fell to him as an officer to ensure that those set as sentinels stayed awake. Also they had to be replaced and from his pack he produced the required hourglass that would be allowed to run through twice as the whole was rotated to cover the twelve hours of darkness.
‘I hope they have given up, Karas, and all this will be a waste. Now, Decanus, check on the horse lines then get to sleep.’
Having done the duty himself Flavius knew that those set to keep watch would have imaginings, especially when the sky clouded over, trapping the heat of the day and cutting out any star or moonlight. Regardless of how many times you do it no one can stand sentinel without seeing chimeras as they stare in to a wall of blackness. Sitting down is forbidden for that brings on sleep, an offence that could see you broken on the wheel in the days of the Roman legions, so a man must wander to and fro, aware that half of the time his back is exposed to danger.
Forests do not sleep at night; they have their own sounds as the nocturnal hunters emerge to find their food, this while the wind moves the branches of trees in full leaf and they do not always just rustle. Nerves would be stretched even more by the suspicion that there was some kind of danger lurking just outside the ring of light provided by the fire, not aided by the hooting of owls and the swish of passing bats.
Flavius did not know what set off one of the traps, but the cry as a snapping-back sapling hit someone had his entire unit coming awake and getting to their feet, following a previous instruction to fan out and cover the ground. Only by looking backwards could they see those hoping to surreptitiously steal for they were in their midst, the crouched outlines silhouetted against the flickering embers of the fire.
Flavius had reacted the fastest; sword out, he ran towards the horse lines followed by a couple of his men carrying the torches they had just set light to. There was no casting of spears: in the dark, what might you hit? — a horse you needed to ride or one of your own. His quarry was no more than a shape, while he was silhouetted against the fire, so that when he raised his sword to strike the blade sent forth a flash of glaring orange.
The scream that action produced was so high and piercing it caused him to hesitate long enough to register that what he was about to cut in half was the wrong size. Instead of striking, he leant forward to grab and got hold of a smock. Pulling raised up what was either a dwarf or a child and, judging by the sound, it was not the former, a fact confirmed when one of his men shoved forward a torch to show a grubby, small and terrified face.
Torches now illuminated the glade and a quick turn showed what looked like dozens of scampering children seeking to avoid the swords that threatened to lop off their heads. Flavius called out a command to secure the perimeter and not to seek to kill those caught inside it. As a response it was not entirely successful, given there was too much space to fully secure, but when things died down, not least the screaming of children, that was what he found he had to deal with, his men having caught hold of half a dozen intruders, while it was obvious most had got clear.
It would have been funny had it not then created another problem: what to do with them once the sun came up and he could look at them properly? Attempts to ask questions fell up against two hurdles: mulish silence and, when they could be brought to speak, an impenetrable local dialect. Had he put it to his men how to respond to these youngsters — he reckoned none had seen twelve summers — they would have been strung from the surrounding trees.
His solution was less harsh, albeit it was painful. He had his men cut flexible saplings and administer a sound beating. While this was in progress he stomped the perimeter and glared into the forest at the ones who had escaped, sure they were still watching, sure they would get his message as the cries of their compatriots turned from yells to whimpers. His last act was to put them on the road, and facing east, with a stern finger that told them to go back from whence they came.