‘So you’ve decided to attack them at the Saddle, eh, Julius?’
Julius, tempted to ignore the question but with enough sense to avoid the pitfall of failing to acknowledge the innocent enquiry, nevertheless waited a full five seconds, taking his response to the margins of insolence, before answering.
‘Yes, First Spear.’
Sextus Frontinius smiled inwardly, keeping his face a mask of indifference.
‘A little early in the march, isn’t it? His men will still be relatively fresh. I’m surprised you’re not going to wait for them farther into the route. What’s wrong with the usual places?’
Stung by the implied criticism, Julius wiped sweat from his eyebrows, shaking his head in irritation at the unusual warmth.
‘I’m not allowing any rest stops until we get there, so we’ll get there first. The Ninth will never suspect a thing until we’re down the slope and on top of them.’
‘If I didn’t know you better I’d have to say you’re taking all this a bit too personally.’
The centurion spat into the roadside dust to clear his throat.
‘And, First Spear, if I didn’t know you better I’d have to say that you’ve rolled over for this Roman with the rest of them.’
Frontinius glared at the soldier marching alongside him, who redoubled his efforts to be seen not listening.
‘March out front with me, Centurion, let’s show these nosy bastards of yours how to cover ground.’
He waited until they were ten yards clear of the marching century before speaking again.
‘I think it’s time we discussed this properly. Our rules, not First Spear and centurion. Just Sextus and Julius.’
The other man glanced over at him.
‘And if I don’t want to discuss it?’
‘But you do, Julius, you’ve been quacking away about it ever since he got here. Come on, man, let it out!’
‘Our rules?’
‘Absolutely. The same as the day we joined.’
‘Don’t say you haven’t asked for it. He’s a traitor. An enemy of the man who rules the world, and of the empire you swore to serve. And yet you’ve gone out of your way to make him welcome.’
The First Spear shrugged unconcernedly.
‘I’m not convinced by all this “traitor” talk. You’ve heard the same stories I have, Julius, you know how this new emperor’s behaving and who pulls his strings. As far as I’m concerned our man’s guilt isn’t proven.’
‘Not your call, Sextus. If the empire says he’s a traitor, then he’s a traitor.’
‘And if it was you, old mate. What if you were unjustly accused?’
‘Then I’d run a thousand miles to avoid hurting my friends, and…’
‘And end up somewhere like here, dependent on strangers for justice. Not negotiable, Julius, I won’t hand over an innocent man to that kind of evil.’
‘And if they come for him? If they nail you and the prefect up and decimate the rest of us for hiding him?’
‘It won’t come to that. Besides, we’ll be at war in a few days. We could all be dead in a week, so some unlikely discovery by the empire doesn’t worry me overly right now. Next?’
‘He’s a snotnose. He’s never commanded so much as a tent party in action, and he’ll fall to bits the first time he sees a blue-nose warband.’
Frontinius snorted.
‘Rubbish. He killed on the road to Yew Grove, he fought again on the road here, he faced down that headcase Antenoch with his bare hands, and he seems to have faced you down well enough since then.’
Julius turned furiously, still walking.
‘That was Dubnus!’
Frontinius pursed his lips and shook his head.
‘Sorry, but that’s not how I heard it. The version that reached me was that he got right in your face and practically offered you the dance floor.’
‘I was half awake and unprepared…’
‘Rubbish, man. I’ve never known you not ready to fight, day or night. Admit it, there’s something in the young man’s eye that would make any of us step back and take guard. And I don’t mean the sword skills either. He’s lost something in the last few months, some carefully instilled self-control, an edge of civilisation that his father probably worked on all his life. What I see in him is a dangerous animal that’s been given every reason to want the taste of blood, and now those early disciplines have been stripped away there’s only cold calculation keeping that rage in check. The pair of us could take him on two on one with swords and boards and I’d have money on his opening us both up from chin to balls in under a minute.’
Julius lifted exasperated hands to the sky.
‘So he’s dangerous. Enraged. He’s a goat-fuck waiting to happen. Put him in combat and he’ll go berserk and take his century with him.’
Again the First Spear shook his head.
‘No he won’t. He’s the model of self-control. Think back to Antenoch, that first morning? Came at him with a knife and ended up with it tickling his own ear? Did you see a single drop of blood on the fool? Because I was there in seconds and I didn’t. No, Centurion Corvus will have iron control right up to the second where he chooses to let it go. Just don’t be on the wrong end of his sword when that happens.’
He took a deep breath as they marched on side by side.
‘You know as well as I do that you’re not competing for the honour of carrying the standard along the Wall to the games this year. What you’re looking for is the opportunity to fight off every blue-faced bastard between here and the River Tava who thinks it would look nice on the wall of his mud hut. Every century in this cohort is going to need strong leadership, and the Ninth isn’t any different from any of the other centuries in that respect.’
‘So give them to the Prince. He’ll give them strong leadership all right.’
‘You know my thoughts on that individual. He’s no more proven than young Corvus as far as I’m concerned.’
He took a deep breath.
‘I’ll tell you what, I’m just simply bored with pondering the whole thing, so I’m going to delegate the decision.’
‘Delegate it to…?’
‘You. But…’
He raised a hand to silence the astonished centurion.
‘Yes, I know, you already know the answer, except I’m really not sure either of us have actually seen what’s in Centurion Corvus’s heart yet. So, you can make the decision, but only when this day’s events are fully played out.’
Julius grunted his satisfaction.
‘My opinion won’t change, you can be sure of that.’
Sextus stared fixedly ahead as they marched on.
‘Perhaps it won’t. You feel betrayed and undermined by your old friend, the man you joined up with all those years ago. I’ve allowed an inexperienced outsider into our close circle of brothers, an action that might spell disaster for us all. On the other hand, oldest friend, Corvus might just have a pair of stones larger than either of us appreciates. So let’s wait and see, eh?’
The 5th made good time, taking their water on the march rather than stopping, and reached a position with a clear view of the Saddle by the middle of the day. Julius called a halt, sending a scout past the feature to make sure that the 9th were not about to hove into view just as he deployed his men into their positions for the ambush. The man ran back a few minutes later to confirm that the road was clear to the grassy horizon, provoking the first smile the 5th had seen grace their commander’s creased face all day.
‘Excellent! Even-numbered tent parties to the right-hand hill with the chosen man and into cover, odd numbers with me to the left. And remember, any man that shows himself before I give the signal loses a month’s pay!’
The century split quickly into two disciplined groups, hurrying down the slope from their vantage point and starting the climb up to the twin hills. Their equipment rattled and clattered noisily, while the soldiers talked among themselves about the afternoon’s entertainment, planning individual acts of revenge for real or imagined slights upon their century’s good name by members of the 9th. Thus it was, with nobody looking too carefully at the greenery that crowned their objectives, that it took a bellow of challenge from Dubnus to draw their attention to the previously well-hidden troops who had risen like forest spirits out of the undergrowth of the right-hand hill’s heavily wooded crown.