For the moment he was glad to have the big man’s company, and sorry when the German and his warriors left them to go east. That left four of them to share the watches. He ignored Vindex’s fresh suggestion to kill the prisoners. ‘Or at least let me slice up that vicious little bastard.’ He meant the young Roman they had freed from captivity, who claimed to be called Marcus Claudius Genialis and swore that he was the son of a very rich and powerful man called Claudius Probus. Ferox had heard of neither of them, but the sixteen-year-old carried himself with an arrogance that suggested someone used to being obeyed in every whim.
‘Don’t seem very grateful for being rescued,’ Vindex commented in the language of the tribes after watching the angry youth scream at Ferox and demand that he execute the two brothers. The centurion refused, never raising his voice, and after a while turned his back and walked away. Genialis then went to Gannascus, promising gold if he killed the men. The big German had only a little Latin, but seemed to understand. He smiled, bellowed his great laugh and then knocked the boy flat.
After that Genialis brooded in silence until the German and his men left them when he made a new attempt to make the centurion obey him. When Ferox refused, the sixteen-year-old told him that he would rue the day, before stalking off to sit on his own. Every now and again he glared at the prisoners, or at Ferox.
‘Who’d miss him?’ Vindex asked. ‘I mean, put it this way, if you were his father would you really want him back? After all, no one knows we found him. Except Gannascus and no one will ask him. Those two certainly won’t care.’ He gestured at the two girls. Brigita was the snub-nosed redhead, thirteen years old and the one who really ran her family’s farm, making sure that her sick father and vapid mother did nothing too foolish. The other girl was fifteen, but small for her age, a slave in the household of Aelius Brocchus, commander of the cavalry ala at Coria to the east, who was also the owner of the tall chestnut horse.
A couple of days ago Genialis had lured her away from their camp into some woodland. Ferox had heard the slave’s screams and arrived to find her thrown down, her already ragged dress torn open. He had not been gentle with the youth. Genialis was still sporting a raw black eye along with some other bruises, and it had taken all his willpower for Ferox not to kill him then and there.
‘It would be a pleasure,’ Vindex pleaded. ‘Who would ever know?’
‘Just tie him up and keep him tied until he is off our hands. You never know, he might be a runaway pretending to be freeborn. Then they’ll whip him or kill him. Perhaps both.’
‘Well, let’s hope,’ the Brigantian said dubiously.
There had been more complaints, more promises of vengeance and dire punishment for them all, but when the scout raised his hand Genialis fell back into his sullen silence and did not break it for the remainder of their journey. He rode behind the two captives, one of the Brigantians beside him, watching all of them for any false move. Brigita and the slave girl, Aphrodite, with the other scout brought up the rear.
As they had ridden through the civilian settlement or canabae outside the fort, Ferox had felt the army’s grip closing around him once more. There had not been time to stop off at his own little outpost, as he wanted the trip over and them all off his hands as soon as possible. He had toyed with the idea of taking Brigita back to her family, which would have meant a diversion of no more than five miles, but had decided against it. It would be too cruel to bring her home with two of her abductors still in tow.
Instead he drove them hard to reach Vindolanda quickly. It was hardest on Aphrodite, sitting uncomfortably astride the chestnut wearing a borrowed tunic far too big for her and an old and stained cloak. It was even harder on Segovax, although the man had such an iron will that he did his best not to show it. The two brothers kept their faces impassive after the manner of the northern tribes – and Ferox’s own people. Their eyes stayed cold and full of hate.
‘Halt!’ The sentry outside the gateways bawled out the regulation challenge.
‘Flavius Ferox, centurio regionarius, with three scouts, two prisoners and three others requests entrance to the fort.’
‘Sir!’ The Batavian stiffened to attention, spear straight on his shoulder and shield close into his body. Ferox was surprised at the precision, but as he led them all under the gateway he saw two ranks of soldiers paraded inside. He guessed that they were not waiting for him.
‘Good morning, sir.’ There was an optio in command of the detachment, and as Ferox searched in his memory for the man’s name it came to him just in time.
‘Good morning, Arcuttius,’ he nodded. ‘Expecting visitors?’
‘Yes, sir. They’re late, though.’
Ferox was tempted to ask, but he knew the optio as someone who applied regulations to the letter. Arcuttius was not given to chatter, especially not to someone outside cohors VIIII Batavorum. He would have to make it an order if he wanted to get an answer, and saw no reason to go that far. The Batavians were a clannish bunch, and even though he had fought alongside them quite a few times he remained an outsider.
‘Is the Lord Cerialis in residence?’ Ferox asked instead.
‘Yes, sir.’ Flavius Cerialis commanded the Batavians. He was young, eager and ambitious, and after a year and half in Britannia was getting the feel of the place. He and his wife were also close friends to Aelius Brocchus and his wife, which should make it easier to restore to them their horse and their slave. Aphrodite had said very little during the journey home, only to confirm that she had strayed from their house and met up with one of their grooms, also a slave, who was exercising the chestnut. Ferox guessed that it was not the first assignation, but this one turned sour when the northerners appeared, speared the groom, and stole her and the horse. The raiders had come across Brigita the day before, as she was walking towards Coria to sell a goat at the market and to buy an axe if she could find a decent one at a good price.
‘Good,’ Ferox said. ‘Well, I had better stop dawdling and report to the principia.’ He nudged Snow forward along the main road of the fort, the via praetoria, which ran straight towards the other main road of the fort, behind which stood the great buildings of the base – the principia where the administration went on, and the praetorium where Cerialis and his household lived. Both were big, with four ranges around a central courtyard, and their walls were rendered and painted white so from this distance they looked to made of stone and not timber. For sheer size they were dwarfed by the pair of granaries next to them, their roofs towering over the rest of the fort. Yet the barracks on either side of the road were big enough buildings.