Altar of Blood: Empire IX (16 page)

‘In which case young Scaurus could fairly be deemed to have strayed just a little too far from his brief for me to ignore the likely results. After all, the Bructeri aren’t going to have to look very far to find a culprit for the theft, are they? And the last thing I can afford to countenance is for some wild stunt carried out in the emperor’s name to set the frontier alight again.’ He looked up with a look that the secretary had come to recognise as intended to appear decisive. ‘No, I can see that I’m going to have to take some action before this scheme of Scaurus’s gets out of hand. Send for Decurion Dolfus.’

The secretary bowed and turned away to do his master’s bidding.

‘Immediately, Governor.’

‘You want me to guide you into the land of the Bructeri?’

Scaurus nodded at the scout.

‘My mission requires me to put boots on the tribe’s soil, if only for a short time. I don’t expect to be doing any actual fighting, this is purely an in and out, three days at most and all of those with my detachment hidden deep in the forest. Is that a problem, Gunda?’

The German pointed to the rune tattooed onto the flesh of his forehead.

‘Do you see this, Roman? Do you imagine I wear it on my skin for decoration?’

The tribune sat back in his chair.

‘I was wondering.’

‘It is my tribe’s symbol for a man who has been condemned to the status of
wargaz
. Or, in your language, outlaw. I am banished from my tribe’s homeland under pain of death, to be administered by the priests of Wodanaz, if I am found anywhere within the borders.’

He stared at Scaurus for a long moment.

‘Let me guess. Your tribe being the Bructeri, right?’

‘Correct. So I’m hardly likely to want to go anywhere near their lands. I’m sorry, but the role of guide you’re offering is not one—’

‘How much?’

Gunda shook his head.

‘You seem not to be listening. I cannot do this.’

Scaurus smiled.

‘You clearly can. What you cannot afford is to be
caught
doing it. Or, from the sound of it, if you are caught, to remain alive for long enough that your estranged tribe’s priests get the chance to practice their sacrificial arts upon you. We’ve established that you have exactly the knowledge that I will need to lead a successful foray into Bructeri territory, the only question now is how much money it will take to convince you that the risk of being caught is outweighed by the reward to be gained for what, with your assistance, will be a fairly minimal level of risk.’

The German looked at him for a moment.

‘You’re serious. Very well … three gold aureii.’

Scaurus smiled at him.

‘Three? Let’s make it four. A hundred denarii is a nice round number, isn’t it?

Gunda looked up at the office’s roof in evident disbelief, then back at the officer.

‘Half now—’

‘One coin now, to let you buy whatever you need, the rest payable the moment that our boots are on Bructeri soil. If you do end up having to take a knife to your own throat at least you’ll have had the pleasure of possessing more gold than you’ve ever seen before in your life, eh?’

The Tungrians marched from the city shortly after dawn, Tribune Scaurus returning the gate sentries’ salutes as his party exited the fortress and headed up the road to the north. The river’s mist was still lying in patches across the countryside, thick curtains of vapour reducing visibility to almost nothing before another moment’s march brought the column back into the morning’s bright sunshine as they marched north towards Novaesium, thirty miles to the north.

After only half an hour’s march, Gunda nodded to Scaurus, pointing to a paved track that ran away from the main road towards the river to their east.

‘That’s the way.’

Scaurus looked up and down the main road to north and south, confirming that they were unobserved before nodding his consent. The German led them down the narrow track, which ran east to the Rhenus and then turned north to follow the river’s bank with heavy forest on the road’s left-hand side, another hour’s progress taking them to the spot he had decided would best suit Scaurus’s plan. Turning off the track where it deviated away from the river to avoid a rocky outcrop, he took them through a belt of trees that would screen them from the path, and on down to the Rhenus. A narrow strip of shingle beach ran along the river’s gently curving west bank, the river, like the track along which they had come, devoid of traffic.

‘Perfect.’

Scaurus called his centurions to him.

‘Get your men settled down. I don’t want anyone visible from either the river or the far bank. And have them ready to move at short notice, no taking boots off or opening packs. We’ll be away from here soon enough.’

Having trailed the Tungrians from the city at a distance, walking their horses on the road’s grassy verge to prevent any sound from alerting their unsuspecting quarry, Dolfus and his men had shared mystified looks as the Tungrians had diverted onto the patrol road that paralleled the river’s course.

Watching from the cover of the forest’s edge, as the detachment disappeared into the shelter of the trees that separated road from river, the decurion shook his head in bemusement.

‘Why stop there? And why in the name of all the gods are they on this road at all, it must be getting on for half the distance again, having to follow every bend in the river?’ A thought struck him. ‘Unless …’

He got to his feet, gesturing to his men to hold position.

‘Stay here. If anyone comes along you’re just getting a bit of sun while I go for a crap in the woods, right?’

He sprinted across the road and into the trees on the far side, instinctively following the slight rise of the ground until he judged that he’d reached the highest point possible. Gripping the lowest branch of a sturdy-looking oak he hauled himself up into the foliage, climbing nimbly upwards until he was high in the canopy. Judging that the higher branches were unlikely to take his weight he stopped climbing and inched out until he could see through the leaves, revealing a spectacular view across the river’s valley, the Rhenus visible for miles to either side. Staring out over the trees he smiled, shaking his head slowly in appreciation of his quarry’s audacity, as he realised what it was he was seeing moving slowly through the river’s mist.

‘You crafty bastards …’

Lowering himself carefully to the ground he ran back down the hill, hurdling fallen trees and kicking up leaves, stopping in front of his men breathing hard from the exertion.

‘You said that the two young gentlemen rode down to the dockyard yesterday. Tell me what happened again.’

The man who had tailed Marcus and Varus south from the city the previous day shrugged.

‘When they got there they just walked along the dockside like two men out for a stroll. One of the ship’s captains hailed them and they had a few words, but that was all. After that they did a round of the ship shed like they were on an outing and then made their way back to the barrack. Like I said at the time, Decurion, nothing out of the ordinary.’

‘And when they came back from the port?’

The trooper shrugged again.

‘I watched their barrack all day from the empty one next to it. They stayed in it all afternoon, then went and joined their tribune for a couple of hours. Eventually a pair of soldiers delivered a message of some sort and the officers went back to their own barracks.’

Dolfus stared at him for a moment.

‘These messengers. Were they about the same height and build as the young gentlemen in question?’

The man he’d set to watch Marcus and Varus frowned in concentration.

‘Yes, I’d say they were.’

Dolfus sank to the ground and lay on his back looking up at the clouds towering up into the sky above him.

‘So while they’re down at the docks someone knocks a hole in the wall between the officers’ quarters and the room next to it. Then when they get back from their outing they switch uniforms with a pair of soldiers who match them for size and while the decoys held your attention they were free to climb through the hole into the barrack next door and then go wherever they wanted as common soldiers. Clever. What better way to have a discussion that they didn’t want witnessed?’

He got back onto his feet.

‘You two, stay with the horses, you two come with me! Quietly now!’

The decurion eased into the cover of the trees, weaving through their thick trunks with his accomplices close behind. Something made him look over his shoulder, and he ducked into the cover of the nearest oak, gesticulating frantically to his comrades to do the same. The morning sunlight’s mist-hazed brilliance dimmed a little as a wall of wood slid past their hiding place, close enough for the lapping of the river’s water against the ship’s tarred side to be audible. Raising his head the decurion watched as the vessel passed their hiding place barely twenty paces distant, making out the name painted on her stern.

‘Mars.’
He looked at the man crouching next to him. ‘Was that …?’

The trooper nodded, understanding dawning on him.

‘The name of the ship whose captain had a good old chat with those two centurions? Looks like it.’

The decurion nodded to himself, his lips twisting in wry admiration.

‘It seems that our master has somewhat underestimated the resourcefulness of these Tungrians. Come on, let’s get a bit closer, and see if we can see or hear anything to reduce the sting of being left sitting here like fools while they sail away to who knows where.’

As Arminius stared in the direction that Scaurus was pointing he saw a shape resolve itself out of the mist. Rendered ghostly by the drifting vapour, a warship was sailing slowly down the river’s western bank, her tiered oars furled up against her sides as the river’s current pushed her gently downstream.

‘This is what we’re waiting for?’

Scaurus nodded without taking his eyes off the vessel.

‘That’s our ride. This, my friend, is where we simply vanish off the map. Centurion Varus!’

The young aristocrat rose from the cover of the trees and made his way down to the river’s bank, waving a hand at the oncoming vessel, which was now close enough for her identity to be clear. Varus lowered his hand as the ship coasted towards him on the river’s current, turning back to Scaurus with a broad grin.

‘That’s my cousin alright, see him in the bows? The man with the red hair?’

Standing on the vessel’s prow, the officer in question clearly had a hands-on approach to the task of command, bellowing orders back to the men on the steering oars in a manner that left little doubt as to who was in control of the vessel. His voice reached them across the water as he shouted another command over his shoulder.

‘Oars!’

The rowers responded with commendable speed and precision, dropping their wooden blades from their furled position to sit level with the river’s glassy surface.

‘Ready …’

The blades rotated, ready for the next order.

‘Back! Water!’

With the perfect synchronisation of long practice the oarsmen dipped their blades into the river as one, executing a series of swift, efficient strokes that took the way off the vessel and left her drifting towards the bank at a slow walking pace.

The commander roared another order, reinforcing it with a swift pointing hand gesture.

‘Stern anchor!’

The ship drifted a dozen paces and then stopped, held in place by her anchor. Her commander turned to the waiting Tungrians, shouting a greeting down to Varus.

‘You see Gaius? I told you I wouldn’t let you down! Have your men pull us in as close as possible and let’s get you fellows aboard!’

The Tungrians’ axemen nudged each other and guffawed in amusement at his patrician accent, but hurried to grab the ropes thrown ashore as their chosen man Angar bellowed orders and imprecations at them, swiftly dragging the ship in towards the bank until she touched bottom, close enough for boarding ladders to be lowered into the shallow water. The captain looked down at the detachment as they pondered the muddy water between ship and shore.

‘Come on then you men, we haven’t got all blasted day!’

Scaurus went first, wading into the river and climbing up the closest ladder, to be greeted by the ship’s commander as he climbed over the side.

‘Tribune Scaurus, it’s good to meet you after what I heard about your exploits in the east from young Gaius here when I met him in the city last night!’

Scaurus stood bemused as his hand was shaken vigorously by the big man.

‘The pleasure is mine, Prefect. And you have my thanks for entertaining this somewhat unorthodox diversion from your usual routine.’

The naval officer barked out a laugh.

‘Any diversion is welcome, Tribune! There are only so many times a man can sail up and down this blasted river before ennui sets in, I can assure you of that! The most excitement we’ve had in the last month was sighting a deer on the far bank last week, and even that came to nothing when we missed the bloody thing with both bolt throwers! Ah, here’s young Gaius now!’

He greeted his cousin over the ship’s side with a bear hug, leaving Varus red-faced.

‘Here he is! The black sheep of the family come good, and in no small part thanks to you, Tribune, giving him the chance to prove that he’s worthy of the family name! Any friend of my cousin’s is a friend of mine, eh? So let’s get these men of yours off the bank and be about our business, shall we?’

With the detachment aboard the vessel he ordered the crew to pull up the anchor and cast off from the shore, turning back to Scaurus once the
Mars
was underway down the river.

‘So tell me, Tribune, where exactly is it that you want putting ashore?’

Scaurus gestured to Gunda, who was standing by the ship’s rail with an even more lugubrious expression than usual.

‘I make a point of finding people who know the land intimately, wherever it is that my orders take me, and my native scout there says he knows the perfect place.’

He beckoned Gunda across to join them, the prefect calling for his pilot, and once the three men were in animated discussion as to the location the German had in mind, sidled away to join his officers at the vessel’s stern rail.