Enemies of the Empire (16 page)

‘Exactly, Excellence,’ the man said eagerly. ‘It would have fetched a few
quadrantes
in the marketplace, at best.’ He realised that this was an unfortunate remark and went on hastily, ‘We could go and demand to have it back – explain that the owner had been found and wanted it. Not force him to give it up, exactly – we have enough enemies around here as it is – but we could offer him a few denarii instead.’ He had cheered up and was quite animated by his own suggestion now. ‘It would be an easy matter to locate the man. We know where his portable enclosure was last night, and even if he has moved on by now, he should not be difficult to find. He’s got a great big jagged scar across his face.’

There was a silence. Plautus! Could it be? I looked at Marcus and he looked at me: obviously the same thought had occurred to him. He raised an enquiring eyebrow but I tried to signal caution with a quick shake of my head. The fewer people who knew of our suspicions, the better.

Marcus gave me a swift, comprehending nod and raised his hand, preventing the optio from saying anything. ‘Enough of this discussion. We are wasting time. Let’s get moving as soon as possible.’ He turned to Regulus. ‘You march in the front. We’d better find this pig-keeper of yours. I rather think Libertus wants to talk to him.’

It is an eerie feeling travelling through empty countryside, escorted by half a century of soldiers on the march – eight rows of five abreast. (There are eighty soldiers in a century, of course, despite the name!) There were a dozen mounted outriders as well, hastily co-opted from the nearest marching-camp in case we encountered trouble on the way. The optio, still anxious to give a good impression, took care with posting them: six of them well out in front as scouts, and the other six just as far behind to guard the rear. The cavalrymen from Isca might have helped with the task but following what Marcus had ordained they were simply re-equipped with spears and thus obliged to march.

It was a military operation and an air of businesslike precision reigned. Marcus’s private mounted bodyguard, which had accompanied us all the way from Glevum, was not now deemed sufficient to protect us, so instead of cantering up and down alongside our carriage they were obliged to fall in behind the two domestic carts which carried all Marcus’s serving retinue and other equipment for the trip. There was none of the cheerful jingle of their harness and shouted banter now, and the whole atmosphere was much more tense.

There was only the measured ring of hobnailed sandals on the road, the creak of armour and the groan of carts and an occasional snort from one of the horses. The lack of any human voice was almost sinister: the rhythmic pounding of the feet so perfectly in time that it seemed that the whole column was a single animal. And quite a swiftly moving animal. If you have ever seen a phalanx of advancing Roman troops, you will know that they can move with startling speed. It is said that a legionary can march twenty miles a day fully armed, and with his entire equipment on his back. Our escort were not carrying their packs today, only their fighting weapons and their shields, and although obviously our progress was not as quick as it had been when we were unaccompanied by men on foot, we were still jolting through the countryside at surprising speed.

We passed through the cultivated area which surrounds the town, where a few Roman-style villas could be seen, each with its contributory farm and all much like similar homesteads I was used to further east – except that here the houses were built, not in sheltered places, but on the tops of hills where they were exposed to wind and weather but had commanding views of the countryside about. They were surrounded by high protective walls, and there were similar defensive enclosures round many of the fields. We even saw a small party of slaves, armed with pointed staves and clubs, patrolling the borders of one villa-farm.

As we moved further from the town the substantial dwellings gave way to humbler ones: first Silurian roundhouses in cosy villages and then – as we travelled increasingly through woods – more isolated huts. In one dank clearing by the road we saw a wretched cluster of miserable shacks, where scrawny chickens mixed with scraggy goats and naked children ran about unchecked, while skinny women with suspicious eyes stopped their work and put down their querns and hoes to watch us pass. I thought about the butcher peddling bones and scraps of fly-blown meat – these people were among his customers, no doubt.

The road got hillier and more wooded as we went along, until we reached the outskirts of unbroken forest, stretching in all directions as far as we could see. There we found a wretched hovel, masquerading as a civilian inn. It was little more than a filthy staging-post, where a few flea-bitten horses could be had for hire, but at the sight of Marcus’s insignia on the coach the landlord came bustling out with gifts of cheese and some of the foulest wine I had ever tasted. Nothing would have persuaded me to go inside, but we did consent to water our own animals at his trough and listen to his whining voice complain of how even his mangy steeds had been attacked, and how he kept a dagger ready, just in case.

The forest looked forbidding but the front outriders had scouted on ahead and, having found nothing untoward, had galloped back and were waiting for us at the inn. The optio came back to tell us that – to all appearances at least – the way was clear, and asked for permission to proceed. Marcus gave it with a silent nod and our procession jolted off again, with the riders now formed up close in front of us to afford us extra protection from surprise attack.

Then we were in the forest. It was far more disturbing than the open road. Here the feeble sunshine could not penetrate the trees, and after the heavy rainfall of a day or two before even the military road was dank and treacherous with mud and fallen leaves. We jolted forward into shadowed gloom where grey light filtered only patchily through the tangle of naked branches overhead, and then through a dense, forbidding stand of evergreen, which created a dim green half-light that was even worse. The clanking of our marching passage stilled the winter birds, but there was a wind and the woods were full of rustling movement. It was easy to imagine that each falling leaf or stirring branch was set in motion, not by a freak of breeze, but by some hiding enemy. And there were always wolves and bears to think about.

I was glad of our elaborate escort now. The thought of travelling through these threatening woods without our armed protection was an alarming one. As it was my heart was thumping uncomfortably in my chest, and beside me Marcus began to fidget too, though he did not say anything to me. The purposeful silence of the marching men outside had somehow communicated itself to him, and he had not addressed a word to me for miles.

Of course I could not start to talk to him, unasked, so I turned my attention to the last few days – anything to take my mind off bears and bandits. In any case, something was obscurely troubling me.

I had not killed Lupus, but somebody had done. Up until this morning I had more or less concluded that it was Plautus, however unlikely that appeared. Paulinus, whom I had taken for his spy, had followed me almost to the door, and it had seemed logical that – since I’d clearly recognised his face – Plautus might have wanted to silence me, and anyone I might have spoken to. But now I was wondering if I was right.

If the swineherd with the scarred face was really Plautus in disguise, as seemed highly probable, then – according to what Regulus had said – he had been in this forest all night with his pigs. In that case he could hardly have killed Lupus after dark, much less followed me around the town. The civitas was simply much too far away. Nor could he have done it and walked here overnight. Apart from all the normal dangers of night-time travel, the town gates were always closed at dusk and anyone going through them after that would be noted by the guard, yet we knew that no one of Plautus’s description had been seen to leave – the optio had made particular enquiries on the point.

But if Plautus had not killed Lupus, who could it have been? Not Paulinus – the child would have been far too terrified to be entrusted with such a task – and not his brother either, since he was intercepting Promptillius at the time. Was there some other explanation, unconnected with my visit to the thermopolium? Had Lupus simply failed to pay the protection fee, or in some other way aggrieved the rival gangs? I shook my head. It was too much of a coincidence. Unless . . . I sat up with a sudden start. Was I looking at all this back to front?

Plautus was after all a Roman citizen. What was he doing in the bath-house part of town? What was he doing in the civitas at all? Obviously he was somehow on the run, but I had just assumed that he was fleeing me. Suppose that by calling out his name, far from his being any threat to me, I was in danger of betraying
him
? That might explain why he had hurried so furtively away, and perhaps also why Lyra and her boys had shown such interest in me when I followed him. I had supposed that they were friends of his, but I had no proof of that. They didn’t even seem to know his name.

I was just deciding that I ought to voice these thoughts to Marcus, and run the risk of a rebuke, when the whole marching column came briskly to a halt. Regulus, who had been marching in the van, came hurrying down between the ranks to speak to us. He was streaked with sweat and breathing heavily and limping very badly – the pace maintained by the trained infantry was clearly making great demands on him, though his pride had somehow forced him to keep up. The optio, who had accompanied him, looked as fresh and unconcerned as if he had merely been out for a stroll.

‘In the name of His Most Imperial Divinity, Commodus Fortunatus Britannicus, the Earthly Manifestation of Great Hercules, Emperor of Rome and all the provinces . . .’ the optio began, approaching our official carriage, and presenting his baton with a bow.

Marcus leaned forward and touched it graciously, thus cutting short the lengthy formula. ‘You have my permission to report. I presume we are getting near the spot where the ambush happened yesterday?’ He looked at Regulus.

‘Just . . . bottom . . . of . . . the valley . . .’ the cavalryman managed to pant out. He waved a hand in the direction he had mentioned. ‘Very . . . steep.’

The optio took over. ‘I have sent a pair of mounted soldiers on ahead, to check that it is safe for us to proceed. All the same, with your permission, Excellence, we will deploy your mounted bodyguard as extra scouts, and move up in close formation around the carriage as we go, to give you as much protection as we can. The rebels have struck in this valley several times so far. It’s possible they have a base nearby. There’s still a risk of ambush in the area.’

This was not a comfortable thought. Marcus nodded. ‘Very well. As you suggest.’ Another barked command and the convoy surged forward, though more slowly now.

The road seemed a good deal narrower here, hemmed in as it was by tall trees on either side, and the marching troops closed ranks and pressed in around us, so that we found ourselves the centre of a moving box. When I looked out through the leather curtains of the swaying vehicle, I could see that the men had drawn their swords and raised their shields and so were forming a sort of defensive outer wall. I craned out to see behind us, and realised that the last two rows had fallen back, and were marching in diamond formation, still perfectly in time, so as to protect us from the rear. Further behind them still, the mounted horsemen rode with daggers drawn.

It was an impressive display of discipline, and it occurred to me what an awesome sight the Roman army must present to any enemy confronting it. If I had been a Silurian rebel hiding in the trees, I would have been thoroughly intimidated by this time, especially when the men began a rhythmic beating of their swords against their shields. It was a tactic that I’d heard about, intended to strike terror into the enemy.

There was a definite feeling of expectancy and threat. I held my breath, half waiting for an ambush to leap out at any time, but we reached the bottom of the valley without incident. There, where a little path led off into a clearing on the right, we stopped a second time. This was our destination, it seemed. The optio appeared to help us from the carriage and we dismounted on the verge beside the road, to find ourselves ankle deep in fallen leaves, among a little stand of ancient oaks. The troops were drawn up silently on either side, so that we were still the centre of a protective square. There was no wind now, but there was a chill damp in the air, and despite myself I shivered.

The officer gave a stiff bow of salute. ‘Permission to report? The lookouts have made an examination of the site and found no intruders in the area, though there is lots of evidence of recent tracks. We therefore await your orders, Excellence.’

There was a pause, then Marcus turned to me. ‘Well, Libertus? This trip was your suggestion, I believe? What do you propose we do now?’ As he spoke he tapped his baton on his palm – a sure sign of stress and irritation, as I knew.

I was just as anxious. The forest was a menacing place, but I tried to sound as confident as I could. ‘I think I should inspect the site with Regulus,’ I said. And then, fearing that he might feel overlooked, I added, ‘With you two gentlemen as well, of course, if you would condescend to help our humble search. Your intelligence and experience would be invaluable.’

I saw my patron preen at this, so I turned my attention to the optio. ‘I’m sure you will agree that a small group searching the area on foot may find more than a larger number would.’ I did not want forty men trampling on the evidence, I meant, but I did not have to say the words. The optio understood.

He sniffed. ‘Well, perhaps you’re right. But if His Excellence is to participate, I insist that he shall have a bodyguard. I am charged with his safety and, with due respect, cannot consent to let him wander around the forest without armed men at his side. Not after what happened yesterday. There have been too many other incidents on this road of late. It’s almost as if the wretches know where we’re going to be.’