Eagles of Dacia Page 29

  One of the new packs was not fastened and he reached up to tie it shut then paused. Instead, he fished inside. It was full of packages that felt suspiciously like food, but on the top, just inside the flap, were a small scroll case and a jar. He opened the leather case and slid out the contents. All it contained was a scrap of parchment with two words:

  PASSWORD: FORTUNA

  He stared at it. Could it be?

  ‘Rufinus?’

  He almost jumped from his skin at the word and rose, looking over the horse, heart thundering along. Senova was hurrying toward him, cloak wrapped around her. Luca was at her heel as always, and Acheron following on, tongue lolling.

  Rufinus tucked the scroll case back into the bag and examined the jar. Unstopping the lid, he examined the contents and sniffed. He almost sneezed at the acrid content, but recognised the smell as that same unguent the medicus had been slapping on his wounds since dawn yesterday.

  A ready-made escape.

  Senova and the others rounded the animals and she stared at him.

  ‘Where did you get the horses?’

  Rufinus countered with ‘how come you’re here?’

  ‘I had a note pushed under my door that just said “Rufinus”. I thought you might be in danger, so I came running and brought Acheron just in case. The horses?’

  ‘Provided by a mysterious benefactor.’

  ‘Pescennius Niger,’ Senova said, with conviction.

  Rufinus nodded. ‘I cannot think who else. This is dangerous ground. He could land himself in terrible trouble if this is him.’

  ‘I suspect his involvement might be rather hard to prove.’

  Rufinus looked over the packs. ‘It’s all here. My armour. Shield. Helmet. All my kit. Yours too. I…’

  He frowned, and started to look urgently round the horse, feeling the packs and even looking underneath the beast’s belly, which took some twisting and effort and made him gasp in pain.

  ‘What is it?’ breathed Senova. Rufinus continued, searching the other beast.

  ‘It’s not here.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Everything else is here, but not that.’

  ‘What?’ repeated Senova impatiently.

  ‘My hasta pura. The silver spear. I mean, it’s kind of hard to miss. Even packaged up it’s quite long and obvious.’

  ‘Oh, that,’ Senova said in an offhand manner, waving a dismissive hand.

  ‘Yes, that,’ Rufinus said, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

  ‘I sold that,’ she said, shrugging, and then started looking at the bags on the other horse.

  Rufinus’ eyes bulged. He gasped. ‘You did what?’

  ‘I sold it.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘When you were captured in Porolissum all your things were given to me and Luca. I looked through it all, and there was no money left. You’d emptied the purse we brought.’

  He gasped again. ‘I? I emptied it? All those expensive rooms and so on, when we could have made do with a tent? And we brought? How about I brought?’

  She glared at him. ‘I was a freshly freed slave, Gnaeus. Just how much cold solid coin did you expect me to magic up for the journey?’

  ‘But the silver spear…’ It sounded rather wailing and plaintive even to Rufinus’ ears. Like a child bemoaning the loss of a favourite toy.

  ‘We needed cash and you were carrying something pointless and worth a lot of money. Either we would escape and need the money to travel, or you would die and I would need the money to bury you and survive afterwards. It was practical.’

  ‘But my silver spear…’ moaned Rufinus. A gift from the emperor himself. A prize for valour above all others…

  She produced a bag of coin that chinked as she shook it with difficulty. Rufinus stared. She passed it to him and he took it, the weight almost pulling it out of his hand so that he struggled to keep it up.

  ‘That’s a lot of money.’

  ‘See? Silver. Worth a lot. Soldiers all wanted it so much I had to auction it.’

  ‘My spear,’ he said again, in a petulant, hollow voice.

  ‘And now you might live long enough to spend it. More use than a bloody spear any day.’

  ‘Senova…’

  ‘Do you perhaps think this argument can wait until we’re safe?’ she interrupted. ‘Tribune Celer is going to find out about this sooner or later, and I think it might do us good to be a lot of miles from him when he does.’

  Rufinus, suddenly acutely aware of the fact that they were standing in an empty fortress street in the middle of the night and arguing in subdued hisses, nodded. ‘Yes. Come on.’

  He grasped Atalanta’s reins.

  ‘Shall we mount up?’ she asked. He shook his head. ‘Might be a bit too obvious clopping around on horseback – draw too much attention. We’ll walk the horses for now, and mount up outside the fortress. On the assumption the password I’ve been given is correct, that is.’

  Swiftly, he untied Atalanta from the ring and then did the same for the bay, handing the reins to Senova. With Luca and Acheron at heel, they moved quietly down the narrow back street. At the end Rufinus paused for a moment, checking this way and that. He saw a legionary walking away down one side, scratching his behind, and then the man turned a corner and was gone. Rufinus nodded to Senova and they stepped out into the cross street. A thought occurred to him and he pulled close to Senova.

  ‘We ought to leave the boy,’ Rufinus whispered.

  Senova blinked, then frowned and looked round at Luca.

  ‘No. And why?’

  ‘Because we can travel faster without him if we need to be on foot, since he has little legs. Because of the expense, since he’s another mouth to feed and bed to find every day and night. Because we have two horses and three people, which doesn’t divide well. Because he still belongs to the Thirteenth Legion and if he runs with us he becomes an official fugitive. He can be killed then for running. Also because we don’t know what we might face out there – cannibal Sarmatians, Roman patrols, forest fires and angry bears – and he will be safer here. Because of these things and many more besides.’

  Senova shook her head. ‘You’re right on most counts, but not on two. He is a slave, and a slave can be killed just for serving the wrong wine, let alone running away, so he’s no better off where he is. And he is certainly not safer here than with us. If Celer finds we have gone and Luca stays, they will torture him to death to learn what he knows. I am not leaving him.’

  Rufinus sighed. He’d not really expected to win that one, but he’d had to try.

  ‘Alright, but he’s your responsibility. He shares your horse until we can get him one of his own, too.’

  ‘Acceptable,’ she agreed.

  They moved through a few more streets, heading east toward where Rufinus knew the nearest gate to be, which would also lead them nowhere near the headquarters or the officers’ houses.

  ‘Say nothing at the gate,’ Rufinus cautioned her. ‘You too, Luca. Let me do any talking or answering.’

  ‘With pleasure,’ Senova answered, Luca nodding his agreement. Acheron yawned, and Rufinus was treated to a view of a huge collection of serrated white teeth and a tongue the colour of old blood. ‘And you try not to do that at the guards,’ he told the dog. ‘I don’t want them to suddenly think you’re a threat.’

  With that they emerged from the side road onto the main via praetoria, mere paces from the heavy, closed gatehouse. Taking a deep breath, he strolled over to the gate, leading Atalanta, the others in tow. Two pila were crossed in front of him.

  ‘No exit, friend,’ one of the legionaries said firmly.

  ‘Even with the password?’ Rufinus said, questioning, his brow wrinkling. ‘A password like Fortuna?’

  The two men shared a look.

  ‘No man of the Fifth leaves the fortress without signed orders from an officer,’ the other guard said, though he didn’t look particularly happy. ‘Standard orders.’

  ‘I’m not of the Fifth,
’ Rufinus said hesitantly. He was approaching dangerous ground now.

  ‘Must be one of the visitors from the Thirteenth,’ one said.

  ‘No,’ replied the other. ‘He’s the one they captured up at Porolissum. The praetorian what got fitted up by that poncy tribune. I saw him being brought back in after they tried to kill him the other day.’

  ‘Great.’

  ‘Look,’ the one who’d recognised him said, ‘it’s not that I’m not sympathetic – I heard that tribune from the Thirteenth well and truly screwed you up – but we’ve got orders. We can’t just open the gates.’

  Rufinus shook his head. ‘But I think you can. You’ve no orders denying egress to men from visiting units, and I have the correct password. There’s no reason to stop us.’

  ‘Well, no,’ admitted one of the guards, ‘not as such…’

  ‘But we’ll end up in the shit, Aulus,’ said the other. ‘I know it.’

  ‘Ask yourself,’ Rufinus tried, ‘how I know tonight’s password if I’m not supposed to be leaving?’

  ‘You probably beat it out of some poor sod,’ replied Aulus, doubtfully, his pilum wavering.

  The other guard snorted. ‘After what they did to him on the parade ground? He couldn’t beat up a daisy now!’

  The two men shared a look.

  ‘Listen,’ Rufinus began again, seeking a new tack to the argument, but suddenly Senova was next to him, fishing in his saddle bag. He made an odd strangled sound as he turned to her, but she simply fished out what she was looking for and wandered over to the men.

  ‘You look hungry and thirsty, Aulus,’ she said with a motherly, sympathetic smile. ‘I don’t think you’re looking after yourself. Much more of this and you’ll end up in the infirmary. Take this and when you’re off duty you can get some of the good stuff.’ She dropped two gold coins into the man’s hand and Rufinus boggled. No wonder they were broke. That represented a month’s wages for a legionary. He made that strangled noise again and watched in shock as she repeated the process with the other gate guard. ‘And you I think need some relaxation too,’ she murmured comfortingly.

  The two men shared that look again. ‘I suppose…’ one hazarded, ‘we can’t be disciplined if they’ve not actually broken any rules?’

  ‘And the poor bastard’s in the sights of that shit of a tribune.’

  ‘So really it would be the good and decent thing to do, I suppose.’

  The men nodded. ‘Open the gate,’ one called. A voice from the shadows called back, ‘Why?’

  ‘Shut up and open the gate, they’ve got the password.’

  There was some muttering in the gloom of the gate’s interior, and then there was the sound of a bar being lifted and the left hand of the two wooden doors swung inwards with a deep groan.

  ‘Thank you. Fortuna be with you,’ Rufinus said to the two men.

  ‘And with you, mate. Now go before we change our minds.’

  Rufinus felt as though every care that the world had heaped upon his weary shoulders was lifted as they passed out from under the gate and crossed the small open space, down the slope and into the civilian town. They turned the first left-hand corner they could find and as soon as the fort gate was out of sight, Rufinus let loose an explosive breath.

  ‘Right. Mount up. And Senova? If you’re going to try and bribe someone, I’d like you to run it by me first. Just one of those four coins would probably have bought every man at the gate.’

  ‘So I got us out while you floundered around and all you can do is complain about it?’

  Rufinus fell silent, grinding his teeth as he reached up to the saddle and realised that with his back and the bindings there was precious little chance of this happening.

  ‘Bet you need help again, don’t you?’ Senova said with a smug smile. Rufinus judiciously ignored her, struggling and panting, whimpering and wincing as he tried to pull himself up into the saddle. He was about to admit defeat and beg Senova when suddenly Luca was there, helping. The lad crouched down and made his back into a mounting block. Rufinus, feeling horribly guilty about it, used the boy and climbed up into the saddle, collapsing therein with a sigh of relief. Damn it, but why should he feel guilty about accepting help from a slave? Wasn’t that what they were for?

  He turned to find Senova giving him a look that would wither plants. He gave her a weak smile and thanked Luca, then cursed himself in turn for thanking a slave.

  ‘What now?’ Senova said, as she settled into the saddle and held down an arm to help Luca up.

  ‘Now we stick to the back streets and get through Potaissa, out toward the east, away from the main road, so the town’s between us and the fort.’

  They rounded the corner of the street, passing a building that displayed good copper and ironware in its windows, then along the front wall of an inn that probably sold dangerous alcohol and things with knuckles on steaming platters. Rufinus jinked left and then right to avoid a main street where a beggar and a drunk were having one of the strangest fights he had ever seen, flailing and staggering in a disordered, careless way, occasionally falling into a wall. They disappeared into a street that was mostly residential, though with a bar that was closed at this time, and the entrance to a livery where a young lad was silently sweeping up by torchlight. There was a strange, oppressive silence suddenly, and Rufinus realised that the sounds of nature had disappeared. The world had gone completely quiet apart from the shuff, shuff, shuff of the boy’s broom in the stable yard.

  Then he realised why. The first raindrops pattered on his scalp and, as he looked up, more dotted his face. It was not that heavy, deep thunder rain that battered and blatted like the stuff from up at Porolissum, but more a gentle drizzle that insisted itself upon the world, soaking clothes faster than a person expects.

  Somewhere a dog barked and Rufinus started at the sound. Damn it, but he was getting nervous. They passed from that street down an alley and across a small wooden plank bridge over a stream, and then up past a brewery and a fuller’s workshop that stank beyond belief even in the rain. Past some more housing, and finally they emerged from the last building into green grass. The small road they had been following petered out and became a farm track between an open green field and a small orchard of neatly spaced trees in rows, winding across the valley and up the slope ahead.

  At Rufinus’ gesture they turned off the track and disappeared beneath the branches. They sat there for a moment, listening to the rain clattering off the leaves and hissing out in the open, the moonlight coming in brief, scudding grey glimpses between the clouds.

  ‘So what now?’ Senova said, finally.

  Rufinus had been pondering that very question all the way down from the gate and had come to a conclusion about which he was not very happy, but could find no feasible alternative.

  ‘Remember the map? I’m hoping it’s still among your things, packed away, though we can’t afford to waste time looking for it now. Anyway, the fact is: we can’t go west for sure. That’s all land controlled by Niger and while he’s been sympathetic and probably even the one who let us go, he can’t afford to do so twice and Albinus will have our descriptions circulated around the entire region over the next two days. And we can’t go south, because Apulum is less than forty miles south of us. That would be like us flying directly into the spider’s web and carrying a sign that says EAT ME. If I remember rightly there’s just a border road and a fort or two north of us, beyond which are the Costoboci, who are unlikely to extend us much courtesy, given that they recently invaded and were pushed back out by the legions. Beyond that it’s just Germanic and Gothic barbarians for a thousand miles until you get to the frozen seas in the north where the amber comes from.’

  ‘You’re painting a bleak picture,’ Senova noted.

  Rufinus nodded. ‘It’s a bleak situation. Pretty much everyone in the province of Dacia is going to be looking for us shortly with a view to cutting out important parts of me and throwing them to the birds. And those who don’t want
to kill us will be told to do so by those who do. And it’s not like we can easily hide in Albinus and Niger’s territory. A couple travelling with a great black dog will attract attention if our descriptions have gone round.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So we cannot go north, west or south.’

  ‘What’s east, then?’

  ‘I’m glad you asked,’ Rufinus said with a sigh that suggested the words were said with some degree of sarcasm. ‘Eventually, the Euxine Sea. That has to be our destination. We can’t travel through Albinus’ province, so we need to go east and get to the coast. There are many ports along there both large and small, and we’ll be able to get a ship from there going back east, maybe even as far as Rome. I think getting out to sea will be easy from there, and once we’re on the waves we’ll be safe from everything but opportunistic pirates, gold-hungry untrustworthy sailors, sea monsters and love-starved porpoises. But getting to the Euxine Sea might prove difficult.’

  ‘Because of what lies between?’

  ‘Quite. If I remember the maps rightly, for about a hundred miles just south of east from here there’s little more than farmland and native settlements. The odd tiny provincial Roman town, but not much. It’s a peaceful, settled area, and there won’t be people there actively seeking us. Then we reach the edge of Roman territory again, but in the east. In the mountains, again, too, like when we came over Vulcan’s Pass. The Transalutanus border, they call it. There are forts there and a few towns, a bit like Bucium and Porolissum, but it’s far from Albinus’ centre of power and right at the edge of all Roman influence. We get past there and we are free of Albinus for good.

  ‘And what is past that, then?’

  Rufinus took a deep breath. This was the bit he wasn’t looking forward to. ‘Then it’s the Roxolani lands, where Cassius lost his dog in endless fighting. About another hundred miles of Roxolani territory, then we’ll have to cross the Danuvius back into the Roman world in Lower Moesia.’

  He paused, waiting for an explosion of refusal and was surprised to see Senova nodding.