Like hell, thought Ferox, but said nothing. He would investigate even though he suspected that only Hadrian or someone working for him knew what had happened and had no intention of telling him.
Hadrian grinned, his neat teeth very white. ‘Well if Piso wakes up he will be your problem and there is nothing I can do about that. But what can I do for you?’
‘I could do with more men,’ the centurion said, ‘more food to replace what we have lost, and assurance that help will come.’
Hadrian walked to the far rail and tossed a pebble into the flowing water. ‘A legatus of a legion scattered in dribs and drabs in several provinces cannot command much. I shall do my best for you – and for my men serving here. But I cannot command and dispose as I will. And perhaps we are starting at shadows and seeing enemies where there are none? What do we have – rumours, suspicions, disgruntled men in an outpost. And the thought that Decebalus wants a new war and will attack as he has done before, and that he might attack here because then he could drive on unmolested, take our own bridge, damn his impudence, and invade our provinces while we do not have enough to stop him. In Rome that would all sound very wild.’
Ferox said nothing.
Hadrian stared down at the river, surging beneath them and almost bursting its banks from the snow melting on the far mountain tops, and waited. ‘Just a little river,’ he said after a while, ‘and just a little road leading to a great river and a wonderful bridge. What would the enemy gain – that is if they are the enemy? But if they are not the enemy then why does Decebalus send his men among the Roxolani?’ Ferox had told him what he had learned from his visit to their camp. ‘And I hear on good authority he has sent men and gold among many peoples and tribes, and why does he keep luring over our deserters to serve him? And why does a well-built and kept granary in our only fort on this route get set on fire?’
And why send Ferox and the troublesome Brigantes as its main garrison in the first place? Ferox thought, but did not say.
‘It cannot all be chance,’ Hadrian resumed. ‘There is too much to be a false trail, so somewhere the wild boar is lurking, waiting to charge. Then again what would he gain? We would win in the end. You were there weren’t you when Oppius Sabinus was killed?’
Ferox nodded, surprised that the legatus knew this for it had happened twenty years ago, when the Dacians plundered Moesia, and he had been a newly minted centurion.
‘And with Fuscus, and then with XXI Rapax?’
‘I was.’
‘That’s three big disasters, and yet here you stand as large as life – and as miserly with your words as Atilius Crispinus warned. Yes, yes, I know him, and he is much recovered in case you are interested. There is even talk of fresh offices in due course.’
That explained some of the knowledge, for Crispinus had been a tribune in Britannia and spent a lot of time in the north. A clever young aristocrat, perhaps too clever, life had become complicated and dangerous whenever the tribune had appeared – indeed it had been quite a surprise that he had not turned up at Piroboridava. Still, during the rebellion of the Brigantes, Crispinus had played a dangerous game and presumably lost, for he had ended up a prisoner of the rebels, paraded in chains like an animal, beaten and brutalized. Ferox had never learned the truth of all that had happened and where Crispinus’ true loyalties had lain. Hadrian was enough of a friend to know about this and speak of his recovery, although not enough of a friend to avoid mentioning it at all. From what Ferox had heard, the former tribune’s family had done their best to cast a veil over his ‘illness’.
‘So I know something about you, centurion, much more than you guess, and since no one else up to now has bothered to have you dismissed from the army, I will believe that the good things are true and that gives me hope. You are a hard man to kill, and you have the knack of winning against the odds. … And please don’t try to make a joke of this and assure me that you are still young and can easily make a fresh start.’
‘Wouldn’t dream of it, sir.’
Hadrian glared at the rigid face for a long while. Then he stared over Ferox’s shoulder, but the centurion remained at attention and did not follow his gaze.
‘Very well,’ the legatus said at long last. ‘We will all have to do our best.’
‘Can I tear up the bridge, sir?’
‘Why?’
‘The fort is here to guard the road, and especially the bridge. It’s the route that matters, nothing else. Let’s say they come with an army. With luck, the fort may hold out – at least for a while. If it does, what’s to stop them leaving a couple of thousand men to keep us honest and sending the rest off to Dobreta. They could be there before the alarm has been raised, and certainly before a decent force can be concentrated. But without the bridge—’
‘Nothing big can get through,’ Hadrian cut in. ‘Not much in the way of supplies, no artillery – at least not decent sized stuff – and without those they’re not well placed to take Dobreta or anywhere else by storm or siege.’
‘So if we pull up the bridge they might not come at all, unless they’re looking for a cheap victory by taking one of our most vulnerable posts, stuck out on its own and unsupported.’
It was Hadrian’s turn to lapse into silence for a while, before shaking his head. ‘No,’ he said at long last. ‘It won’t do. Not proper for a Roman officer to flinch at rumours. And if you rip it up and they change their plans and do not come then that’s what it will seem – a nervous officer who cannot even control his own soldiers panicking and destroying a perfectly innocent bridge.’
‘We’d be alive though,’ Ferox suggested.
‘Still,’ Hadrian went on, clearly giving little weight to that point, ‘have a word with the Greek and see if he has any ideas of how to make their life difficult if they do come.’ Ephippus was to stay at the fort, as were all but the legatus’ most important staff – and now Sulpicia Lepidina and her household, at least until Hadrian had seen the lady’s husband and found out his situation and whether or not it was safe for her to join him.
Hadrian shaded his eyes from the sunlight as he stared up the slope at the fort as if measuring the distance. ‘Have you thought of reaching this spot with a ballista on top of the gate towers?’
‘They say it is too far, sir.’
‘Talk to Ephippus. He’s been trained by one of the best there is and strikes me as thorough. Maybe an extra storey to one of the towers would give more height and a longer range? There’s usually a way if only you can find it.’
‘My lord,’ Ferox said flatly so that the words could mean anything.
‘Yes, Crispinus told me you were insolent. Let us hope he was right in his other judgements.’ Hadrian whistled to attract the attention of one of the two cavalrymen and then gestured at the fort. The man rode away to summon the escort, while the other brought over the legatus’ horse. Hadrian nuzzled its face with great fondness. ‘I must leave,’ he said.
‘Are you sure that you do not want a larger escort, my lord? It is a long way to Sarmizegethusa.’
‘Then better to travel fast. If they kill a Roman senator in time of peace then the princeps would be implacable and destroy Decebalus and his kingdom.’ Hadrian snorted. ‘He might even thank me for the chance! But I don’t think any harm will come to thirty well-armed soldiers. Not yet at least.’ He swung himself easily up into the saddle. ‘And I do love a hard ride. Reminds me of when I was a tribune and…’ He seemed to decide that Ferox was not a worthwhile audience for the story. ‘No matter.’ The escort were trooping out of the main gateway. ‘Time to leave. Good fortune to you, Flavius Ferox. Let us hope we meet again, eh!’