The Dumnonii chief nodded reluctantly.
‘Where you lead I will follow, Calgus. Just don’t wait too long to bring my tribe some glory, or all the promises of future slaughter I can make to them won’t keep them in hand.’
Calgus laughed, putting a hand on the other man’s shoulder.
‘Caradog, you need wait no longer. I’ve put you and your tribe at the tip of the spear tonight. You’ll be beheading Romans before the sun rises again, even if it’s only the pitiful few that haven’t already run off down the road to the Wall.’
Brennus snorted.
‘And their Sixth Legion will sit idly by and let all this happen?’
Calgus’s smile broadened.
‘Ah yes, the infamous Sixth Legion. I have something special planned for Legatus Sollemnis and his men.’
One of his retinue approached respectfully, whispered into the tribal leader’s ear and withdrew. Calgus pulled an amused face, raising his hands in apology.
‘I must ask you to excuse me. I have a visitor.’
He left the circle, his bodyguard of picked Votadini warriors clustering around him as he made the short walk back to his tent. At the door he was met by one of his advisers, an elder of proven wisdom who had stood alongside his father in his day.
‘It’s a Roman. He rode up to the scouts and asked to be taken to you, said that you would be expecting him. I have him under guard inside, two spears at his throat. If he twitches in the wrong way our men will kill him immediately… I asked him what he wanted, but he refuses to talk to anyone but you. Shall I have his throat slit?’
Calgus shook his head quickly.
‘Not this one, Aed. This one’s the key to our victory. I knew that he would come to me at this time — in fact I’ve been depending on it all these weeks. So pass the word, the man that so much as looks at him the wrong way will be joining his ancestors after a long session under my knife. This one gets safe passage, and no questions.’
Nodding his thanks, he entered the tent. The newcomer was standing at the far end, the two warriors tasked with his control watching him down the shafts of unwavering spears. Crossing his arms, Calgus looked the newcomer up and down, taking in his air of complete relaxation.
‘I’ve been expecting a visit from a Roman these last few days, but if you’re that man you’ll know I have no way to be sure you’re the same person.’
The Roman tossed a small object to him. Catching it, Calgus recognised the gold shield brooch that had been taken from him after their first meeting in the forest months before.
‘Proof enough. I have to salute your courage. Not only putting yourself in my hands when I might well still be smarting for vengeance for the murder of my companions, but riding into this camp, at this time…? Brigantia herself must be smiling on you for you to have got this far without losing your head.’
The other man smiled confidently.
‘Fortuna smiles on the man who knows when to take the right risk. I’ve taken that risk to offer you a bargain we can both profit from. Your gain, you will recall, will be two things you’ll value over any other prize. A legion’s eagle standard, and the head of a Roman general. If you kill me now you’ll never see either, or hear the information I’ve brought to convince you of my sincerity. If you’re still interested.’
The Briton stared back impassively.
‘Interested? If there’s a way that I can be guaranteed you’re not just the high-risk end of a plot to mislead me at this critical time, yes, I’m still interested. But to gain my trust, Roman, you’ll need to give me two things. Firstly, I want some proof that you can deliver me the prizes you offer so blithely. Secondly, and much more importantly, I want to know why. Start talking.’
The Roman shrugged.
‘Proof that I can deliver you what I’ve promised? Where shall we start? Why not with who I am. My name is Titus Tigidius Perennis, and I am a tribune with the Sixth Imperial Legion’s staff. You want proof? I can tell you that the supply depot at Noisy Valley is being emptied out even as we speak. By the time you get there the place will be a collection of bare cupboards, with nothing of value to sustain your army in the field. I can tell you that the other two legions, The Second and Twentieth, have been on the road north for over two weeks, and will be here long before you’re expecting. You see? I can tell you that your options are becoming more and more limited with every day, and you haven’t even made your first move yet. I’m your best hope for victory, probably your only hope.’
Calgus nodded slowly, raising a sceptical eyebrow.
‘I see. And as to my second question?’
‘Yes, why would I be doing this? That’s simple. There is a cancer at the heart of the Sixth Legion, a seed of disloyalty to the emperor and his closest advisers, and I intend removing it in any way I can. The ends will more than justify the means.’ Later that evening, well after dark, with the 9th either settled for the night or, in the case of a few lucky men with dependants in the vicus, on a one-night pass out of the fort, Marcus went for a walk up to the Wall. He’d looked for Rufius, hoping to benefit from some measure of the older man’s imperturbability by discussing the situation with him. The veteran officer was nowhere to be found, however, and his chosen man had simply shrugged apologetically at the question. Standing above the north gate, with the wind tugging at his tunic, he drank in the hour’s quiet peace. Away to his right he could just make out the lake by the faint ripples kicked up by the wind’s touch, while the forest wall made a darker line against the landscape. The distant flickers of torches inside the treeline betrayed the presence of some part of the garrison, clearly camping down for the night in barbarian territory. Most likely one of the night familiarisation exercises that Frontinius ran from time to time, he decided without interest, leaning against the parapet to enjoy the moment. The guards below were talking, their words drifting up to him, sometimes audible, other times too low to be discernible.
He listened for a few minutes, hearing hopes and fears expressed more in the voices themselves than by the words used, taking strength from an uncertainty that seemed to match his own. On the verge of turning to walk back down into the fort, he heard his voice being called from below.
Leaning over the inner parapet, he saw Caelius standing below.
‘There you are! Message from the First Spear, you’re to join him at the treeline as soon as possible.’
Marcus frowned down at his colleague.
‘Why? I was about to go and get some sleep.’
‘How the bloody hell would I know? Look, I’m not tired yet, I’ll walk out with you. Come on, you don’t want to keep Uncle Sextus waiting any longer than you have to.’
They strode down the steep north face of the escarpment, leaving the gate guards nodding knowingly at each other once they had passed, and made their way across the flat plain below the fort’s walls. Away from the fort’s reassuring bulk the darkness seemed deeper, pregnant with uncertain futures. Caelius’s presence at his side was more reassuring than he’d expected.
‘War’s coming, Two Knives. Are you ready?’
Marcus paused for a second.
‘We’re ready. They’re fit, good with their swords…’
‘No. Are you ready?’
The pause was longer than before.
‘I think so. I know I can fight, I can take my century where I want it to go, fight the way I want it to fight. Yes, I’m ready.’
‘Ready to kill? To drop a man’s guts out of his belly and see the life fade from his eyes?’
Marcus stopped in the darkness, looking up at the brilliant blaze of stars.
‘I fought on the road to Yew Grove, you know, and killed more than one man. All I haven’t done is face a full warband in a battle line. Everyone gives that so much weight. I’ve caught the other officers looking at me, weighing up how I’ll perform when it comes to a real fight. Even Dubnus seems reserved now, part of another world. And all they’ve ever done that I haven’t is fought in a full-scale battle. What’s so difficult about that?’