‘Yes, and-?’
‘I’ll go outside and draw ’em away like that. You and the others can then get clear.’
Nicander smothered a sigh of relief. With the attention of any wanderers out there elsewhere, he would lose no time in making off into the night and blessed safety. ‘Yes, Mr Legionary. A fine plan, worthy of your calling.’
‘You’re just looking to save your own skin.’
‘Not at all,’ Nicander came back. ‘These people will need a leader in the days to come.’
‘And that’s you?’
‘Can you think of anyone else?’
Marius glanced around the forlorn group. ‘No,’ he agreed, with a sour smile. ‘Get ’em on their feet.’
Nicander motioned to his sorry charges then said, ‘I wish you well, Marius.’
The Roman did not reply, but gave an ironic army salute. He turned and loped noiselessly out into the night.
Some minutes later the call of a wolf sounded in the darkness.
‘Get ready!’ hissed Nicander.
Another howl rose further out, long and insistent. Nicander listened intently. Excited shouts came from the villa, no doubt men streaming out toward the call.
‘Go!’ he said urgently. The slaves would not leave their master and in a fury he kicked at them until they obeyed, followed by the listless farm workers, pushing them out bodily into the cold night air.
‘Where’s the woman?’ His voice was taut with nervous tension.
She was still inside, crouched over the body of her infant. He tugged roughly at the older child. ‘Get her out of here – if she’s not with us, you’re both dead! Understand?’
He didn’t wait for a reply and returned to the doorway, listening. The cries were now off to the right and distant. They had to make their move – fast!
Pulled by the older child the mother emerged slowly, holding the dead body to her breast, her ragged sobs distracting. Nicander cursed under his breath but wheeled about and led off to the south, a line of dark woods beckoning in the dull moonlight from beyond the fields.
He moved quickly, through a patch of clinging undergrowth and then on to the bare earth of a ploughed field, stumbling forward, propelled by the sick fear of what might happen to them, discovered in the open.
Panting, he made the edge of the woods and crashed on through into the gaunt shadows and the cold stink of forest litter. He turned and looked back, the others were in a slow, straggling line and this pointed like an arrow to where he was. Distraught, he beckoned them on. One by one, they lumbered in, the mother last of all, still clutching the dead child to her breast.
‘Quickly!’ he urged, then lunged deeper into the forest gloom.
At a small clearing he stopped to catch his breath. How could they carry on like this?
He spared a thought for the legionary. He would be dead by now, overwhelmed by vengeful Ostrogoths, but it would have been a quick end. That such a brave man had to be sacrificed was a pity, but now he had bigger problems.
He knew vaguely where south was, but this would lead them into the densest part of the woods. His thoughts raced – did he let on about his plan to make for Brundisium? There were only so many ships and the more that tried to crowd into them, the less his chance of getting away.
And surely it was insane to think this sorry crew could keep up for the many days’ slog there, anyway. What were-
‘I’m h-hungry,’ the small voice of the older child broke in.
‘Shut up!’ he snarled.
He tried to bring to mind the teachings of the ancient Greeks that he was made to learn in his youth. Did the Stoics or the Cynics have anything to say about any moral necessity for the fittest to sacrifice their chances for the sake of the weak?
‘I want s-something to eat!’ moaned the child. Her mother was no longer in touch with reality; her eyes empty and, slowly rocking, she dangled the dead baby’s body listlessly.
He needed more time to think, to decide what to do.
‘Now!’ the child wailed. ‘Someone give me a little piece of bread, anything.’ She started to cry.
‘Hold your noise!’ Nicander spat. ‘I’ll go find something, just shut up!’
He struck out into the woods, eager to be away. Quickly he was deep into it, pushing through the thickening undergrowth between the trees until a broad track crossed his path at an angle. At last he could move freely – but to where? And how could he find food in a ruined countryside seething with barbarians? Perhaps this track led somewhere or – a chilling thought came. If it did, then it was more than likely…
Suddenly he felt hoof-beats through the ground and in a paroxysm of terror threw himself into a thicket, scrabbling at the leaf litter and thorns, desperate for concealment. The first riders came around the bend and he froze, praying they were not looking down. The horses thudded nearer in a gallop, then, just inches away, thundered past, the displaced air of their passage buffeting him. He was left with the stomach-churning reek of Ostrogoths on their way to plunder.
When they had passed he got up, trembling. The track in fact curved further and in sickening realisation he saw that it must pass close to where he had just left. However there was no slackening in the hoof-beats as he heard them die away on leaving the confines of the wood.
He straightened and tried to gather his wits. But before he could focus, in the distance, from the direction of his little group, he heard shouts, hectoring and triumphant. Instantly he realised what had happened. The Ostrogoths had seen footprints in the moonlight on the bare field and these had led unerringly to their victims.
As the first unhinged shrieks came, Nicander could do nothing but stand dully, listening as it grew into a hellish chorus as the slaughter began.
CHAPTER TWO
His muscles were a raw torment and his feet burnt, but Nicander tramped on. He’d joined a flood of others desperate to get away from the scenes of ruin and carnage, fear driving him mercilessly. While the Ostrogoths were busy looting Rome he had to make best speed to Brundisium. It was the biggest port in the south: a capacious harbour, hundreds of vessels. He knew it well from the distant days when he’d been part of the family business, trading out of Leptis Magna.
Now, finally, he was close to his destination. And with it was the prospect of safety and release from suffering.
The journey had not been easy: frenzied stumbling across the Pontine Marshes to get out of reach of the marauders, then buying a place in an overcrowded cart at a ruinous price, only for the horse to go lame. Days of soreness had turned to agony as he’d flogged his body to the limits of endurance.
He’d tried to keep clear of the obvious route, the legendary Appian Way, but there was little avoiding the arrow-straight efficiency of the ancient engineers. And now he found himself toiling over well-rounded stone paving, ever alert for the wild thunder of hoofs behind that would tell him it had all been in vain.
Around the bend the wind caught a thick and cloying stench. Bodies. No one was taking time to bury them and as the human flood converged on Brundisium he saw many more corpses, roughly pulled aside from the road.
God help it, he’d be glad to be quit of this place of death and desolation.
He patted his groin furtively. There was still a reassuring weight in the pouch that nestled snugly there. In his makeshift knapsack he’d planted a handful of siliqua, the coins debased and near useless, together with a scatter of obsolete sesterces, big and impressive, but also valueless. However those in the pouch were solidi, coins of gold, his entire fortune.
Nicander reached the crest of the last rise before Brundisium and gazed down into the wide plain and the town. His eyes searched feverishly – the harbour was virtually empty! There were two small ships out of reach at anchor offshore. Apart from that, nothing of the hundreds from the old days.