‘The tribune wanted to start a war,’ Ferox began, ‘so he sent weapons and money to kings among the tribes, men who encouraged that fiend.’ He pointed his blade at the corpse. ‘With a priest preaching hatred and promising victory, the tribes were stirred up. He well knew that the garrisons up here are weak, so that we are seen as vulnerable as well as loathed. That’s never good.’
Ferox gave a thin smile. ‘When you look back it was really all so easy. The tribune had friends. He’s the son of a senator with lots of connections, and he is an up-and-coming man, someone to watch and someone well worth doing a favour to earn his gratitude. There is all that even before he helps break one emperor and raise up another. Plenty of people were eager to help the noble Crispinus. Some were already tied to him or his family.’
Ferox had gone right round and was level with the tribune. The legionary came back with a piece of hemp rope cut from the one that they had used to hang the Stallion. He tied the young aristocrat’s hands together.
‘I recall an oath,’ Crispinus said in a low voice, his words bitter. ‘One willingly taken to my father.’
‘You should,’ Ferox said, glaring at him, ‘because it’s the only reason you are still alive. That oath is a burden, but I have a higher oath, a sacred oath that all soldiers take.’ The sacramentum to obey and serve the princeps and the Senate and People of Rome was sworn when a man joined the army, taken in front of the standards, and then renewed at the accession of each new emperor.
‘I serve Rome,’ the tribune claimed. ‘Always Rome.’
‘But not Trajan!’ Ferox yelled and twitched his sword up before putting his other hand on his wrist to push his arm back down. ‘Noble Crispinus, I will not kill you unless I have to, but will leave that task to others. My oath to your father holds that far.’
‘You have no evidence.’ There was doubt in Flaccus’ voice. ‘It is no light matter to arrest a senior officer.’ The protest came after he had let one of his men bind the tribune. ‘How can I be sure you are right?’
‘He has not denied anything, has he?’ Ferox realised his tone was sharp – too sharp for words to a senior officer. ‘My apologies, my Lord Flaccus, but treason is a dirty business and it is hard not to feel rage, especially since I am pledged to this man. But let me explain. Back in the summer the noble Crispinus met with men from the procurator’s staff and arranged for them to demand a higher levy from the Selgovae, and demand it sooner than usual.’
Out of the corner of his eye, Ferox saw the captive tribune frown. He walked around behind him again, still talking. ‘That provoked rebellion, as he knew it would. He got command of the smaller column and made mistakes. He was too slow to cut off the enemy’s retreat, then left the Tungrians high and dry without support. Only luck and your interventions prevented an embarrassing defeat. Then he claims to deal with the king up north, and yet Tincommius’ warriors still join the rebel army. If you had not acted fast and taken the Ninth to guard against attack from the north we might well have lost that battle.’
‘You are too generous in your praise, centurion.’ Flaccus looked pleased.
‘The legate does not think so, my lord, for these are his words. If it were not for one thing, his joy would be untarnished.’
Flaccus said nothing and his face became hard. Two of his soldiers were close behind and he pointed to one of them. ‘Draw your sword. It is clear that the tribune is a traitor, but I quite understand that it would be embarrassing for the governor to have to arrest and try him in public.’
‘The legate was sure that you had the subtlety to understand. That is why you were sent with us.’
‘Sent among the enemy the day after a battle?’ Flaccus sneered. ‘It seemed a strange order until now. And if the noble Crispinus fell in an ambush and did not return…’
Ferox nodded. ‘Who could blame us, or the legate?’
‘You’ll never get away with this.’ Crispinus was struggling to sound confident. ‘Do not listen to him, Flaccus. My father will demand to know what happened.’
‘And what did happen, soldier?’ Ferox asked the legionary with the drawn sword.
‘Barbarians, sir. Came at us from the woods. Terrible it was.’ The man leered at the tribune and walked towards him. ‘Now then, sir. Hurt less if you kneel and make it easy for us both.’
‘A moment. There is one more thing the legate wishes to know. You can still serve the princeps and the state, noble Crispinus.’
‘Which princeps? Trajan won’t last a year and you all know it.’ The tribune did not kneel, but stared at Flaccus. ‘Not a good idea to be on the losing side. There’s no gratitude or favours from dead men.’
Ferox strode over to him, raised his left hand and slapped the tribune hard across the face.
‘Who helped you?’ He looked back at Flaccus. ‘We know about Vegetus demanding the tax early from the Selgovae to make trouble. Then you got his wife killed. Did he know about that? What about Cerialis? What did you promise him, for trying to hand his wife over for that mongrel to sacrifice?’ Ferox hit him again, and the tribune staggered from the blow, falling on his bottom.
‘Go hump yourself, centurion.’
Vindex chuckled. No one had paid him any attention for a while, and he had wandered around to stand next to the mounted legionary.
‘Not until I get an answer.’ Ferox kicked the tribune in the chest, knocking him on to his back. ‘You let those bastards torture a woman to death. It was even the wrong woman. What was the matter, did you screw it up or was that your men?’ He kicked again, making the tribune hunch up on his side.
‘He had help from someone important,’ Ferox went on, looking now at Flaccus. ‘A senior officer in one of the legions. On the day of the ambush he betrayed the Lady Sulpicia, letting the rebels know about her journey. But someone else arranged for soldiers to go to the tower and murder our own men so that they could not light the beacon and raise the alarm. The men who did were legionaries, and they bore the symbols of the Augusta, but that was a ruse to throw us off the scent. Same when some of the men were at Vindolanda at Samhain.’
Ferox kicked Crispinus again. ‘Talk, you mongrel.’
Crispinus moaned.
Ferox spat on him. ‘I’m afraid that the murderers came from the Ninth.’
Flaccus’ hand gripped his sword, but he did not draw it.
‘Did you know they raped that poor woman before they killed her?’ He invented the detail on the spur of the moment. Given the state of poor Fortunata’s body, there was no way to tell. ‘All of those Roman soldiers took turns and then handed her across to the rebels for them to torture.’
There was a flicker of surprise in the junior tribune’s eyes, but although Flaccus glanced at the soldier with the drawn sword, he said nothing.
‘I will need your help to find them, my Lord Flaccus. And to find the officer who led them. I suspect one of your centurions, although the man dressed as a tribune to confuse us. Will you help me?’
Flaccus’ hand stayed on his sword, but he seemed to relax a little. ‘Of course, centurion, although with so little to go on it will not be easy.’
‘Ah, but we have a witness.’ Ferox turned away and looked north towards the hills above the ferry crossing. ‘He’s late, but should be here soon. The survivor from the attack on the tower. No. No sign of him yet.’ Ferox turned back and smiled. ‘He did not get a good look at the officer, but he claims he saw some of the soldiers clear enough to recognise. We can find them, I am sure.’
Ferox strolled towards Flaccus. ‘You may as well have your man kill him,’ he said mildly. ‘I don’t think he is going to talk.’