The speed of their companion's death threw the others into confusion. Two of them held bows, however, and I knew they would begin making life very uncomfortable for me as soon as they recovered from the first fright. Afraid that they might hit my horses, I ran limping to the side of the road, and almost ran into their first arrow in the process. It zipped past, about a foot in front of me. I remember thinking that if they shot that badly, I should just stand still and let them waste their arrows!
I snapped a shot backwards at the three behind me, and again I was lucky; one of them fell with a howl of pain. Now, they decided to treat me with respect. One of their two bowmen knelt to steady his aim. I drew a steady pull on him, bringing the string all the way back to my ear and holding it there before loosing it. The muscles of an iron-smith, I had discovered, are frequently worth more than gold. My arrow skewered him before he had even loosed his own, and in spite of his kneeling position he, too, went flying, testifying to the power of the mighty weapon I was holding.
I swung around again to check on the two remaining men behind me. They had split apart, one to each side of the road, and were running towards me as fast as their feet would carry them. One of them was no more than twenty flying paces from me as my bow came up again. I dropped him in his tracks and reached automatically for another arrow, but his companion screamed, turned and ran like a hare back the way he had come. I let him go and turned back to the others, only to discover that they, too, had taken to flight. I breathed a shivering sigh of relief and went back to lean against my horses, which still stood where I had left them. Sure enough, I saw my grandmother's sad face and I started to shake, and then I threw up.
Four men dead in less than four minutes! I spat to clear the sick taste of bile from my mouth and went to collect my valuable arrows. Three I cleaned with a handful of grass, but I had to leave the fourth lodged firmly in the forehead of the first man I had shot. It was a highly unpleasant task, recovering those arrows, and one on which I don't want to dwell, but I could not afford to leave them there.
The country ahead of me was heavily wooded and made up of rolling hills and valleys dense with growth. Thank God for Roman roads! I continued my journey for another two hours without seeing a living soul, although I was now looking very carefully and no longer day-dreaming. At dusk, I was looking seriously for a suitable bivouac spot when I saw a body of men coming towards me. Light gleamed on metal and I recognized them for what they were — a maniple of infantry. When they rode closer, I saw the standard of the Twentieth Legion, my own regiment, and I drew myself to attention and waited for them. The mounted centurion at their head came trotting towards me and halted several yards away. I gave him the clenched fist salute of the legions. He sat there, staring at me.
"Centurion? Commander Varrus?"
I nudged my horse towards him. "Aye, I'm Varrus. Who are you?"
"Strato, Strato Pompey, Commander. I was with the Hammers in '67."
"Strato! By all the Caesars, lad, you've grown up!" He laughed, and we rode towards each other and embraced. He had indeed grown up. He had been the youngest man in the Hammers, a mere lad of seventeen when they were formed, but already a decurion.
"Where have you been since then?" He drew back and looked at me, and I could see genuine admiration and liking in his gaze.
"Still with the Twentieth, sir. They reformed it after the Invasion. I'm ranking centurion now, primus pilus, as you can see. And I've been hoping you'd stop saying 'By all the Caesars!' to every Pompey that you meet. I always thought it would get you into trouble some day. We Pompeys are a wild crew, and we mislike the name of Caesar, even today." He smiled shyly, conscious of the boldness of such a speech to his old commander. But he himself was primus pilus now. The young Strato was long since forgotten. "We were just about to camp for the night. There's an open stretch of high ground about a mile ahead. Will you join us?"
"Happily, my friend. I passed the place a little while ago. I would have stopped there myself, but I had some trouble with a few of the locals earlier and I was hoping to find an easier place for one man to defend. I take your point about the Caesars, however. Some of them are highly unpleasant people."
He was frowning. "What kind of trouble have you had, sir? Where?" I nodded backwards. "Back there. About eight to ten miles. Some fellows wanted to relieve me of my horses — and my life."
"Are you all right?"
"Oh, I'm fine, but I left four of them lying in the road. You'll find them in the morning, I suppose, if their friends haven't come back for them."
His eyes grew wide. "Four of them?"
"Four." I grinned. "But not hand-to-hand. I shot them from a distance. With this." I held up the bow.
He looked at it, and his lips pursed in a silent whistle. "That's impressive shooting, nevertheless. Four of them!"
As we were talking, his maniple had marched on and were now a good hundred paces down the road.
"Come, Commander. We'd better catch them or they'll march right past the campsite."
I swung my horse into place beside him. "Where are you headed, Strato?"
"Nowhere in particular, sir. Just a routine patrol. We've been having trouble with bandits in this district. Don't know who they are, but they're making a nuisance of themselves and we have to patrol the whole area regularly. What about you?"
"Ah..." I had been on the point of telling him where I was going, and my hesitation seemed to me to be very obvious. "Just travelling, Strato, looking at the countryside and taking my time. Getting away from life for a few days."
He grinned with delight and was still grinning when we caught up to his maniple, who were already beginning to deploy on the campsite. Again. I saw no signs of any preparations to fortify the camp, but this time I felt free to comment upon it.
"An unfortified camp, Strato? I thought we taught you better than that."
His face creased into a frown. "You did, sir, and I never feel right about it. But that's the way it has to be in the Twentieth these days. Everywhere else, too. The legate commanding the legion doesn't want trouble with the men, and he would have it if they had to dig a ditch and build a wall every night."
"Even in hostile territory?"
He nodded. "I'm afraid so, Commander. It's not like the old days."
"Obviously." I looked around me. The camp was being set up in the orderly fashion that I knew so well. There just weren't any fortifications.