Выбрать главу

Malchus nodded. ‘Agreed, sir.’

I agreed silently in my own mind. Knowing Arminius as I did, I believed he would have simply bypassed the fort had he known how much blood it would cost him. He could have kept the garrison contained with a small force of his own, but now that battle had been initiated, pride and the need to keep up appearances would ensure that some kind of victory must be reached. But how?

And then I remembered the blaze of that first fort. How the flames had danced into the sky as the sizzling thatch of buildings hissed and popped.

‘He could burn us out, sirs.’

Malchus nodded gravely. This was his own conclusion. ‘Those trenches can’t get him over the walls, but they can get him close enough to them to build fires. He just needs enough fuel to get it going, and half of Germany’s a fucking forest.’

Caedicius surprised me then by smiling. I realized he had recognized a look in his senior centurion, and I took it in myself – it was a fearsome snarl. A look of a man who lived for the chaos and terror of battle.

‘You have a suggestion, Malchus?’ Caedicius indulged him. ‘I expect it’s a violent one.’

Malchus grinned savagely, one hungry shark to another. His words were simple, but in that simplicity was written the deaths of dozens. ‘A raid.’

For a moment, Caedicius said nothing. Finally, he shook his head. ‘This inaction doesn’t sit well with me either, Malchus, but we can’t afford to lose the men in a raid. We’re slaughtering them at the wall and not losing any of our strength.’

‘The raid’s not for killing, sir,’ Malchus countered, to the prefect’s surprise. ‘It’s for stealing.’

Caedicius grasped the raid’s intention a moment later. He laughed, full of pride in his subordinate. ‘You want to steal his wood, you bastard!’

Malchus nodded. ‘If we can convince him we’re desperate for fuel, maybe he won’t pile it against our wall. Not only that, but if it looks like we’re settling in for winter, perhaps he’ll think we know something he doesn’t, and that there’s a relief force coming. There’s no guarantee, but…’

I found myself looking at the centurion in admiration. He was right; there was no guarantee of success, but the only guarantee in war was death and misery. Given the way the dice had rolled, it was an ingenious idea by Malchus. It was also one that was certain to be deadly.

So why did I volunteer to lead it?

12

‘I’ll go,’ I heard myself say. ‘I can show them into the camp.’

Malchus laughed. ‘Well, that saves me the trouble of ordering you to do it.’

I took no offence from his words. As I had expected, the centurion would want guides for his raid, and who better to guide him than a man who had lived within the enemy’s host? The fact that I was a half-starved survivor of the forest massacre was of no concern to a killer like Malchus. I had known many men like this warrior, and to them, pity and weakness had no place in the legions. Sacrifice and honour was all.

‘We’ll take the rest of the group that came in with you too,’ he added, to my alarm. ‘They good lads?’

I thought quickly of a way to dissuade him. ‘I don’t want to speak badly of my comrades, sir,’ I finally confessed.

Malchus frowned, and urged me to speak.

‘I’m worried they’d be more of a liability than an asset, sir,’ I lied, except in the case of Micon, who would doubtless be a disaster. ‘If I can be honest, sir, I don’t know how they made it this far.’

‘I expect I know.’ The tall centurion smiled down at me, respectful of my tact and of my service. ‘I’ll go with your instinct on this one, sir?’ he asked of his prefect.

‘Sounds right,’ Caedicius agreed. ‘Take him, Malchus. How many others will you need?’

‘A century.’

Caedicius shook his head. ‘That leaves us with no reserve. Take a half instead, handpicked or volunteers.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘You’ll go tonight?’

Malchus nodded. ‘With your permission, sir.’

Caedicius gave it. ‘Make the preparations. Fully brief me at the end of the next watch.’

Malchus saluted his superior officer; then he placed a hand on my shoulder. ‘Let’s find some food,’ he said, and I followed his wide shoulders through the doorway.

Malchus acquired bread and cheese and ordered me to sit and eat beside a table in the headquarters building. Then I was interrogated about the enemy’s camp, Malchus writing notes and drawing sketches from my memory.

‘Don’t want to lose all this if your head comes loose,’ he joked darkly.

I could tell that the centurion was fond of me. He had only slightly exaggerated when he said that there were more scars on my arms than hairs. One of a warrior’s greatest tools for survival is identifying fellow killers, and Malchus was certain he had found one in me. Doubtless he thought I had volunteered to join the raid so that I could accompany him in spilling blood.

He was wrong. It was the conservation of life that had led me to open my mouth. To see that Stumps and Micon remained within the wall. Brando and Folcher too, for these Batavians were now my responsibility by rank. More than that, they were my comrades.

I finished my last mouthful in silence as Malchus absorbed the work of his hand. His gaze was so full of intent and heat that I worried the paper would burst into flame. Finally he rolled up the diagrams and handed them to a clerk. I expected then that I would be excused, and returned to my century.

I was wrong.

‘Three legions.’ Malchus finally spoke. There was some anger in the words, but mostly it was disbelief, and grief.

I remained silent. Malchus did not. ‘I need you to understand something, in case you haven’t already. What you were involved in, Felix, is going to change the Empire. We can’t lose three legions. We simply can’t. All the plans for Germany, it’s all going to change. This frontier isn’t about expansion any more, you understand? It’s about survival.’

I held my tongue. I understood every word, but not why they were being directed towards a legionary by a cohort commander.

Malchus enlightened me. ‘Have you ever been involved in a siege, Felix?’

I had, and I had no wish to recall those memories: the stench of rotting flesh; the empty pain of hunger; the misery of knowing that death waited patiently beyond a wall; the terror as voices screamed that the final defence had been breached, and now enemies swarmed in for the kill.

‘No, sir.’

‘In a siege, people need hope. Now, everybody in here knows what happened to Varus’s army, but they don’t know what happened to Varus’s army. Do you understand me, Felix? Do you see the difference?’

I nodded. Malchus went on.

‘Three legions. Fifteen thousand men. It’s just too big a number for them to grasp. They know it’s bad, but they can’t get their heads around how much of a fucking disaster this is. Understood?’

‘I understand, sir.’

‘I think you do,’ Malchus said. ‘And so you know why it is that I can’t have stories getting out about what happened. Stories these people can understand. Because when they do understand, Felix, there will be no hope in this fort. There’s just going to be panic, and when that happens, we die.’

‘I won’t speak of it, sir,’ I answered. ‘Nor the others.’

‘Good. We have to stand strong, and united.’

I could see that the centurion wanted to say more. He almost bit it back, but something in my wretched manner caused him to confess, and issue a warning. ‘If we survive here, Felix, then be careful, all right?’