‘How?’
‘I don’t know, I haven’t got that far yet, but we’ll be on foot so let’s get these horses out of the way, lads. Sextus, do the honours.’ He and Marius dismounted and handed their reins to Sextus, who led the horses away.
‘Good luck, sir,’ Magnus said. ‘We’ll be ready when you get back.’
‘I hope so,’ Vespasian replied with a weak grin. He turned his horse and headed back towards the Praetorian troopers.
His leg was throbbing and his head ached but he felt confident that he had strength enough to stay on his horse and to ride fast through the wood for a short period of time. He was also sure that they wouldn’t try to bring him down with their spears; Sejanus wanted him alive, which, in the circumstances, he found a comforting thought.
Keeping his eyes peeled he advanced cautiously, making a mental note of any obstacles that he would meet on the way back, until he caught sight of a flash of red through the trees ahead of him. He stopped and waited for them to come on, bracing himself for the dash back. He didn’t have long to wait.
‘There he is!’ a shout came from about fifty paces away.
Vespasian turned his horse and kicked it into a gallop. As he sped back down the now familiar path, dodging trees, jumping logs and ducking under low-hanging branches, he felt an admiration for the horsemanship of the riders behind him who had earlier ridden the same route but without the benefit of a recce. He reached the edge of the dell and slowed. He looked around briefly to make sure his pursuers could see where he was going, then, satisfied, he plunged down the bank and tore across the dell in the direction of the two trees that Magnus had pointed out on the far side.
The Praetorians made it down the first bank as Vespasian’s horse scrambled up the much steeper bank opposite. Its forelegs reached the top; as it tried to pull itself up on to the level ground, its hind legs scrabbled behind it to gain purchase on the loosened earth of the bank. Vespasian clung on as his horse gave an almighty heave and pulled itself clear of the bank, but the speed of its thrashing hind legs hitting the firmer ground of the woodland floor caused it to overbalance and it stumbled, sending Vespasian crashing to the ground.
‘We’ve got him!’ someone called from behind him as he rolled on to his back and drew his sword to defend himself. The first two Praetorians had almost scaled the bank when a couple of dark blurs swept across Vespasian’s vision; two stout branches crunched into the troopers’ faces, sending them tumbling off their mounts, who in turn reared up and toppled backwards down the slope on to the third trooper behind them. Magnus and Sextus charged down the bank from their ambush positions behind the trees, hurling their branches down at the fallen troopers. They leapt on them, swords drawn, as Marius slid down the bank behind the troopers to cut off any retreat. The horses crushed and kicked their riders as they struggled to get up, leaving the troopers as easy game on the floor. Three swords flashed almost simultaneously, blood spurted from the troopers’ throats and they died beneath their terrified mounts.
‘Quick, lads, try and calm those horses down, then start taking what we need,’ Magnus said as he clambered back up the bank towards Vespasian. ‘Are you all right, sir? That looked like a pretty nasty tumble.’
‘I’m fine. Are they all dead?’
‘Of course. I wouldn’t be standing here chatting with you otherwise, would I?’ Magnus replied helping him up. ‘Come on, let’s get going.’
They hurried down the bank to where Marius was stripping the Praetorians of their cloaks and helmets, whilst Sextus struggled to control the horses.
‘Take the saddles and bridles off the horses, Sextus,’ Vespasian said, ‘then let them go.’
With the bodies, bridles and saddles safely hidden in the long undergrowth away from the track, they donned the Praetorian cloaks and helmets, retrieved their own horses, mounted up and made their way to the edge of the wood. Looking out over the open ground they could see no sign of another patrol.
‘We’ll ride two by two,’ Vespasian said, ‘but not too fast, otherwise if another patrol sees us they may think that we’re chasing someone and come to help us.’
‘You’re right, sir,’ Magnus agreed, ‘nice and easy all the way to those hills. All right lads, let’s go.’
They left the wood and started to cross the grassland at a steady canter. Vespasian struggled for a while trying to control his horse with just his right hand whilst holding a spear and a heavy shield in his left, but after a mile he’d got the hang of it and he was able to offset the extra weight by leaning slightly to his right whilst still keeping his horse going in a straight line.
‘Sir, look, behind us to the right,’ Sextus shouted suddenly.
‘Don’t speed up,’ Vespasian said, looking over his shoulder. Sure enough, heading for the wood that they had just left was another red-cloaked patrol.
‘What do we do?’ Marius asked.
‘Nothing, mate,’ Magnus said staring straight ahead. ‘Don’t look at them; just keep going. Let’s hope that we’re far enough away to fool them.’
Vespasian held his breath as they cantered on. He risked another quick look over his shoulder. The patrol was skirting the wood and making its way towards the Via Aurelia, seemingly taking no notice of their presumed comrades a couple of miles away out on the grassland.
‘It’s working. They’re not interested in us, they’re heading back to the road,’ Vespasian shouted. ‘Keep to this pace, lads, and pray to whichever god you hold dearest that we’ll be out of sight soon.’
After another half an hour they had started to climb the first of the hills. The sudden shout they had feared, ordering them to stop, had not come. As the sun reached its zenith behind the rain-filled clouds they passed over the crest of the hill and down into the comparative safety of the valley below.
CHAPTER XVII
Night had fallen and the rain had stopped. They had ridden fast through the hills and had now slowed to a walk as they crossed rocky scrubland. The full moon shone through the thin cloud covering giving enough light for the horses to be able to pick their way through the rough ground. Below them, to their left, the route of the Via Aurelia could intermittently be discerned, picked out by the torches of an occasional passing carriage or a group of travellers. Beyond it, high on a cliff, were the twinkling lights of a hilltop town.
‘That is Cosa,’ Vespasian said to Magnus. ‘My grandmother’s estate is just to the north of town overlooking the sea. We need to cross the Via Aurelia and find the road that climbs up to the town. About halfway up there’s a track off to the right that leads to her land.’
‘Well, now’s as good a time as any, sir,’ Magnus replied. ‘It seems pretty quiet and I for one am looking forward to a hot meal and a warm bed, and I’m surprised that you’re still able to sit on a horse. Dismount, lads, we’ll lead them down to the road.’
They stopped in an olive grove fifty paces from the junction of the Via Aurelia and the road that wound its way up the hill to Cosa. In the distance they could hear the clatter of a large troop of cavalry coming up from the south.
‘How far away are they?’ Vespasian asked.
‘Can’t tell,’ Magnus replied.
‘They may not even be Praetorians.’
‘I’ll bet they are; if they were just army auxiliaries they would have made camp before nightfall. They’ll be Praetorians all right; they must have realised a few hours ago that we had managed to get past them so I reckon they’ll be heading further north to set up another roadblock.’