He stopped speaking, and looked away from Marcus, out of the room’s window.
‘As an officer of Rome, with a prior duty to the defence of this province, it is my judgement that I will do no such thing.’
‘But you risk losing everything.’
‘Centurion, there are two or three warbands out there that amount to about thirty thousand fighting men, all of them fired by the desire to liberate their lands from Roman influence and get their cocks up some nice soft flesh in the process. Against that mass of angry warriors we total ten thousand regular troops and two thousand cavalry, plus another eighteen thousand legionaries — if the legions make an appearance in time to join in the fun. If we get it wrong, I could be dead inside the week, in which case my failure to report your presence here will be inconsequential. My duty is first and foremost to the troops under my command, and to the people that depend on our protection to prevent those savages from killing and shagging their way all the way down to Yew Grove.
‘And besides, quite apart from yourself, there are two other good men involved at the very least. Your First Spear is an outstanding soldier, and Equitius… Equitius has something even more special. It wouldn’t surprise me to see him reach very high office indeed, if he comes through this thing intact. You’ll understand when you’re my age…’
He got up and walked to the door, reassuming his former aristocratic bearing.
‘Anyway, you’re a good officer, “Marcus Tribulus Corvus”, good enough to take advantage of your luck. Make the most of that fortune in the coming days, ride it to the best possible advantage. We shall have need of your brand of audacity if we’re to prevent this Calgus from nailing our heads to his roof beams. Just don’t give me reason to regret this decision.’
He left, raising an eyebrow at Felicia, who glared at his departing back before hurrying back into Marcus’s room, appraising him with a frank concern he found touching.
‘He knows your secret, then?’
‘Yes, he put the question directly to my prefect.’
‘And…?’
‘I’m to return to duty as soon as I’m fit. It seems that live officers are of more value than dead traitors at this time.’
She exhaled noisily, sitting down at the end of his bed.
‘I’m pleased. I’ve known him for long enough to be aware that he has his own very particular set of principles, but I wasn’t sure how he’d react to your situation.’
‘He said that your husband…’
He stopped, unwilling to embarrass the woman.
‘Is a violent man? Would react without thinking if he thought there might be some slur upon his manhood? He’s a good judge of character. Not everyone sees through that veneer of “hail fellow, well met” that Prefect Bassus uses to mask his real nature. Did he think that we were lovers?’
Marcus blushed, unable to meet her questioning gaze.
‘Yes, I think he did.’
She laughed, putting her head back. The laughter stung Marcus’s pride, making his voice harsher than he would have wanted.
‘Not so funny, madam, you’re a beautiful woman. He can see that any man would find you attractive…’
He hoped that she wouldn’t detect either his discomfort with her amusement or his almost total lack of physical experience of women. Her laughter died away, and she returned his indignant glare with a gentle smile.
‘On the contrary, Centurion, it wasn’t that prospect I was laughing at. The old proverb came to mind — “Better to be strangled for a sheep than a goat”. If you get my meaning?’
She turned and left, the secret smile staying on her face until she was back in her tiny office, making the duty orderly raise his eyebrows in mute curiosity.
Dubnus arrived an hour later, standing awkwardly in the doorway until Marcus beckoned him in. The big man came to attention at the bottom of the bed, in which Marcus was now sitting, reading a borrowed scroll of Caesar’s writings on his campaigns in Gaul, launching into a speech he had clearly prepared with painstaking care.
‘Centurion, I request permission to be allocated another century, at a lower rank if necessary…’
Marcus sat bolt upright, making the ache in his head throb a little harder. He swayed for a second with the pain, causing Dubnus to leap around the bed and steady him by the arm. The pain subsided after a moment. He motioned the soldier to sit down, and took a moment to wind the scroll up, looking into the other man’s stonily fixed face. What reason could his deputy have for wanting to leave the 9th?
‘Why, Dubnus?’
The chosen man knotted his fingers, and his eyes blinked rapidly, betraying the turmoil beneath the surface.
‘A chosen man’s main job is protect his officer, and…’
‘Bullshit!’
The roar surprised Marcus himself, and sent another wave of pain through his head, but the rush of relief he felt in discovering the cause of his deputy’s unease mixed powerfully with his panic at the prospect of losing the man. Dubnus flinched back on the chair, his eyes widening at the sudden display of anger.
‘Your job is to be my deputy, to stand behind the century with your pole’s end in their backs, and ensure that the Ninth moves in accordance with my commands, steady the men when they waver…’
He stopped for a moment, and reached for the water cup by his bed, drinking deeply.
‘… and that’s a job you perform superbly well. Think back, Dubnus. When I decided to go out and rescue our runner, without you at the back of the column our men would have turned and run for the safety of the Wall before we’d got two hundred yards out into the open. They were shit scared, and so for that matter was I. It was only your voice behind them that made them keep moving.’
‘But in the forest…’
‘I managed to make enough noise to bring the tribesmen down on us. That was nothing to do with you.’
‘And I failed to stay with you.’
‘We were fighting for our lives, in the darkness, against superior numbers. It’s a wonder we aren’t both stuck in here, or somewhere worse. Look, forget it, Dubnus, it wasn’t your fault, and you’re not leaving the Ninth. Relax, man, you’re making my headache worse! Besides, someone stepped over me and held the blue-noses off…’
Dubnus winced at the attempted humour, then became serious again, the look on his face stopping Marcus mid-sentence.
‘Which is the other reason why I should leave the century. It wasn’t me that saved you, it was…’
‘Yes?’
‘… Antenoch.’
‘Antenoch?!’
Dubnus nodded miserably.
‘He came out of the trees behind us, jumped over you and fought off the tribesmen until relief arrived. Killed three men, and cut the sword arm off another…’
He tailed off, watching Marcus intently.
‘Antenoch followed us into the trees without y- us noticing?’
Dubnus nodded again, his face lengthening. Marcus felt his grip on his self-control starting to slip.
‘After you refused to let him patrol with us?’
‘Yes.’
The reply was no more than an ashamed whisper, and for a second Marcus had the sense of talking to a naughty child. He kept control of a desire to laugh uncontrollably by the skin of his teeth.
‘Good.’
‘Eh!?’
‘I said good, and I meant it. Your feud with him has gone on long enough. From now on you’ll trust him implicitly, as I evidently have every reason to do… where is he now?’
‘He’ll come to the hospital later. I told him to wait until I was back in camp.’
Marcus lay back, his head buzzing with pain.
‘Very well. Tell him to come up and see me after the evening meal, I need to sleep some more now. And Dubnus…’