Gordon Doherty - The Scourge of Thracia

‘We did all we could,’ a voice said.

He looked up to see Sura, who sat next to him, offering him a grubby wine skin.

Pavo took a pull on it and handed it back. ‘Aye, we did. But what if one day our best efforts are not enough?’

Sura’s eyes searched his. ‘As long as we don’t stop trying. That’s what matters,’ he said, his usually impish face sober and earnest.

Pavo smiled wearily at this, looking over his bloodied, dirt-encrusted hands, still shaking from the trauma of battle. His thoughts started to turn to the great, dark, unanswered question: Dexion, Gallus?

‘I sensed them coming, you know,’ Sura said, sitting a little straighter, the familiar mischievous lilt in his voice.

‘Eh?’ Pavo frowned, his thoughts scattering.

Sura jabbed a thumb over his shoulder up the pass to the west. ‘The Sarmatians. I heard them coming before anyone else.’

Pavo cocked an eyebrow, eyeing Sura askance. Then he relaxed, realising the trick had worked — the dark thoughts were gone. You can read me like no other, friend, he thought.

Sura was in full flow now: ‘Back in Adrianople, they used to call me the bat , I could hear people speaking through three foot thick stone wa-’

A ham-like hand stuffed a lump of bread in Sura’s mouth. ‘Chew that, it’ll help with the cold. . though it will only temporarily stem the horseshit that tumbles from your lips,’ Geridus said. ‘Now, you’re needed — get down there and help with the prisoners.’

Sura made to protest, then found the bread a welcome alternative to voicing his ludicrous stories. He got up and left the spur.

Pavo looked up at Geridus. ‘Without the claw or the toppling of the fort, the battle would have been over long before the Sarmatians got here,’ he said. ‘Farnobius’ men would have spilled on through the pass.’ He looked over his shoulder to the broken heap of rubble that remained of the fort. ‘Why did you keep the claw hidden?’

‘I knew what devastation it could wreak, how it could crush the lives from so many men. It was the same with the tunnels. It. . it. . ’ Geridus’ face lengthened and he shrugged. ‘It is like when a man knows there is a dark side to his personality. He hides it, pretends it does not exist. Sometimes though, it must be embraced and brought to the fore to fight off a greater evil.’ He shook his head and gazed into the middle-distance. Pavo recognised that look — the same one Gallus wore after every battle, as if beset with guilt for those who had fallen under his command.

Geridus forced a smile and swept a hand through the air. ‘In any case the claw was but one layer of redoubt. Without the lilia pits and the burning wagons, it would have been over far sooner,’ Geridus countered with a knowing nod, sitting where Sura had been. ‘Without each of you tenacious whoresons, it might never have been. Each man played a part in this day. Each is a hero,’ Geridus countered.

Pavo glanced over the thousands of lumps in the snow — shards of iron, bone or raw flesh poking through. ‘Yet to forge a hundred heroes, a thousand good men must die, it seems.’

‘Talk like that’ll see you in the Senate House, lad.’

‘Never. My place is here,’ Pavo smiled.

‘Here?’ Geridus cocked an eyebrow and glanced around the bleak pass.

‘Not here. I mean. . wherever they are,’ he nodded to the ragged men of the XI Claudia down in the pass, seeing Sura bantering with Libo as he joined them, cupping his hands to his ears and no doubt regaling them with his ‘Bat of Adrianople’ nonsense. ‘The pass is secured and so Emperor Gratian can come east. Emperor Valens will come west from Antioch also. They will unite in the plains of Thracia, face Fritigern’s horde and the Gothic War will be brought to an end. I will do all I can to bring my legion up to strength so we can help in that effort.’

He noticed Geridus shifting a little uneasily. Was it something he had said?

The Comes sighed deeply, then met his eye with a dark look. ‘Put your faith not in emperors, but in your gods and your comrades,’ he said at last.

Pavo frowned at this. The old man’s scars ran deep indeed, it seemed. He looked to lighten the mood. ‘And what about you, now your reputation is restored? No man can deny your bravery or cunning. You are truly the Master of the Passes. This sly dog, Maurus, perhaps Emperor Gratian will no longer see him as fit to replace you anymore?’

Geridus laughed in that deep, baritone burr that echoed along the pass. ‘Lad, Maurus is welcome to come and take this place off my hands — stinking in the summer and freezing in the winter. If there’s one thing you and your lot taught me more than anything else, it’s that it matters not what hot-headed curs out there say or think about you. It’s about here,’ he tapped his breastbone. ‘I know who I am, I am no longer trapped in that fog of illness my enemies threw me into. In there I was searching for a way out instead of looking for myself. And it was my mistake to let my guard down in the first place.’ He stood, groaning again. ‘So no, my military days are over. A villa in southern Greece, now that would be quite something,’ he said with a sparkle in his eye and a grin. ‘Bread, dates and chilled spring water brought to me by busty maids. . aye, I’m sure they could teach me a thing or two.’ He made to leave the plateau, but stopped, weighing his words carefully and offering Pavo one last piece of advice, batting his fist to his breastbone. ‘Remember, lad: gods and comrades.’

‘Aye, sir,’ Pavo nodded.

Pavo watched the big man go down the scree path, then felt his thoughts return to the dark question. He glanced west again, seeing in his mind’s eye Gallus the iron wolf, and Dexion, the last of his blood. So long and not a word from them.

Just then, Pavo felt the twilight chill bite at him. He stood, swept his cloak a little tighter and descended from the plateau. As he came to the men of the XI Claudia, he saw Zosimus and Quadratus locked in conversation — savoury, for once. As he approached, he noticed how the light from the nearby cooking fires cast long shadows of the two across the churned, stained snow. The shadows danced and jostled with the flickering blaze. Pavo’s eyes darkened as he thought of the dream. While so many men had fallen, the shadow-man of the Augusteum had stayed with him. Every night, the scene had replayed in his troubled mind.

Show yourself or be gone, Pavo mouthed.

‘Here he is,’ Quadratus said edgily as he saw Pavo approaching.

Zosimus looked round too, his face perplexed as he scratched at his anvil jaw.

‘Sir?’ Pavo said, a sudden sense of dread stirring in his gut.

Zosimus seemed to be weighing his words carefully. ‘It. . it seems that the Sarmatians’ arrival was no coincidence.’ He nodded to the wing of scale-vested riders, now tending their mounts and preparing cooking fires of their own. ‘They were despatched here at haste.’

‘By one of our own,’ Quadratus added, then corrected himself. ‘Two of our own, actually.’

Pavo dared not speak the words, but yearned for the two centurions to say them.

‘Tribunus Gallus and Primus Pilus Dexion sent them here,’ Zosimus finished.

Pavo felt these words echo round his mind and wash through his veins like an elixir. ‘They. . they are well?’

‘Aye, the iron tribunus and the tenacious dog that is your brother — you thought a winter journey across half an empire was beyond them?’ Quadratus chuckled.

‘The Sarmatians saw them to a Cursus Publicus waystation and on their way to Emperor Gratian. They’ll be arriving at his court any day now.’

Pavo swung to the western horizon. The fading daylight was fighting against the night, but out there lay hope. The XI Claudia would be strong again and Gallus would march at their head. Dexion would serve with them, bonding blood with brotherhood. Emperor Gratian and Emperor Valens would unite and the Gothic war would be brought to an end. Thracia could be saved.