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.