Адриан Голдсуорти - Brigantia

‘That’s that, then,’ Vindex said as they stared at the fallen rocks blocking the defile. There was no way around. ‘Looks fresh.’

‘Probably yesterday. Oh well, back we go.’ It took even longer retracing their steps, for they were getting tired, and they were halfway back to where they had started by the time they stopped and rested. This was also the first good path heading away from the ravine once crossed by the broken bridge.

‘Come on.’ It was Vindex who urged them to move, for Ferox was enjoying the freedom of being away from the others. Still, there was another hour or two before this gloomy day would turn to night and he knew they must go. So far the Ordovices had been wary of seventeen well-armed Roman cavalry. They might not prove so cautious when it came to two riders on their own, although the pair on the greys seemed to have got away with it. By now those two could be at the bridge, perhaps even starting to follow them south.

He got up. ‘Follow me then.’ Both men wore mail and Vindex wore his old-fashioned helmet. Ferox left his crested helmet tied to the back of his saddle and in spite of the drizzle he kept his hood down to see and hear better. The sword at his side was a regulation gladius, slimmer and with a shorter point than his own lost blade. It would serve, although as he tapped the oval pommel he once again missed the feel of his own weapon. He had given up wondering how much of what Acco had said was nonsense, but the druid was right in one thing. It was a true killer’s sword, and lucky with it. Vindex had a spear light enough to throw if he needed and a small round shield, the dark blue paint on it so faded it looked black and the white figure of a galloping horse only visible if you stared hard. The locals would think them well worth killing to steal such equipment, apart from wanton malice.

Ferox led his horse and did not hurry as they followed the path away from the stream. After half an hour they came across another shepherd’s track, looping as it went up a hard rocky slope. He took them up it, the horses needing to be coaxed and threatened. The top of the hill was long and low, with outcrops of dark rock at either end, and he remembered looking up at it from the far side as they had climbed towards the bridge that morning. On the far side the valley was shallower.

Vindex muttered curses all the way up, and when they were near the top Ferox raised his hand to halt.

‘Wait,’ he said, handing the other man the reins of his horse. The centurion went up on foot, moving carefully and crouching as he got nearer. As he went he imagined warriors squatting among the rocks, hefting javelins, waiting for the fool to come close so they could spit him with ease. He was almost at the crest now, and flinched when a black shape leaped out into the air. Wings flapped and a harsh voice called as the raven brushed against his hair. Ferox was breathing hard with more than the exertion of the climb. The Morrigan’s bird was here, watching the world with its black, beady eyes, and in his heart he knew that warriors would soon spill their blood.

No tribesmen waited for him at the top, but they had been here, not long ago at all, at least three of them from the prints. Perhaps they had watched as the Romans rode past early that day, and then sometime later they had jogged off towards the bridge. Ferox kept low and went to the far end of the hilltop, where the land sloped down and even on this gloomy day you could see for a couple of miles. There was no sign of the main body of cavalry, and even from up here he would have seen their tracks in the valley below if they had already passed.

Ferox went back to help Vindex with the horses. ‘A few warriors were up there,’ he explained. ‘They’ve gone now, but could be they are following those boys riding the grey horses. I’ve a mind to take a look.’

‘Just look?’

‘We’ll see.’ The raven circled above them and gave another cry. Vindex grimaced.

They crossed down into the valley. Ferox did not want to risk leaving the horses, at least not yet, and they could not be led along the top of the crest. Down on the main path the prints of two small horses were clear and fresh, overlying the marks of Crispinus and the rest of them.

‘So by now they’re at the bridge,’ Vindex said. ‘Can’t go on, but how about they follow the two idiots who went south, and the Ordovices follow them, and then we come up behind. Do you see we might end up going in circles for days!’ There was no response. ‘Well, it will keep us all amused.’

The thin rain stopped and there was a glimpse of the sun as it came under the clouds, bathing the mountains in warm light and setting the sky afire in reds and pinks. Ferox tried to picture the land ahead and work out what each group was most likely to do.

‘Do you remember that hollow not far from the bridge?’

Vindex sucked on his long teeth for a moment. ‘Aye, rock behind you, a few in front to give shelter from the wind, and space for the horses behind those bushes. Decent campsite, only the tribune wanted to push on. Bit big for two, though, if that’s what you’re thinking. Anyone could get above you with a couple of men. You’d be easy meat for a man with a good eye and a handful of javelins. And with a few friends to box you in from the front. Thetatus.’ Vindex had heard Longinus and liked the sound of the word. ‘These two have been smart enough to follow and stay alive so far. Why should they turn dumb now?’

‘Only a thought. Hold a minute.’ Ferox stared at the ground until he was sure. ‘Five of them or maybe six. All Ordovices.’ He could tell that from the shape of their boot prints. ‘Came down from up there and crossed the path.’ He followed for a few paces. ‘Two went on up the far side. The other three, no, I’m right, four, kept going along the path. An hour ago, give or take. Come on, hurry.’ He swung up into the saddle and prodded the horse into a trot.

‘Oh bugger,’ Vindex moaned, and then vaulted onto his bay and followed.

The path wound around a corner and for a good half-mile the slope rose gently and, weary or not, the horses surged up it joyfully. After that it became more difficult and they slowed back to a walk. Ferox patted the neck of his gelding. He had never seen the animal until they left Londinium, and had only grown fond of it on the journey. A little further on and he needed only a slight tug on the reins to halt. He gave it another pat.

‘We leave them here,’ he said. ‘Hobble them and hope for the best.’

‘Trust to luck? On a day a bridge fell down in front of us.’

‘Well, how can it get worse after that?’

Vindex undid the chin strap of his helmet and pushed his fingers over his face to rub his eyes. ‘Dying springs to mind.’

‘Acco tells me I’m destined to kill him,’ Ferox said. It was the first time he had told anyone else and oddly enough speaking the words made it all seem possible. ‘Haven’t done that yet, so I’m all right.’

‘Oh, thank you very much.’ Vindex lifted off the helmet and shook his long hair, then carefully donned the helmet again. ‘Truly?’

‘That is what he said.’

Vindex whistled. ‘Could be a weight on a man’s soul, something like that. Even with what he is and what he’s done. Might bring a whole storm of bad luck.’

Ferox laughed. ‘Or it might explain why my life has been like this up to now!’ He remembered Longinus saying something about needing to do the deeds to earn the punishments he’d suffered. Something else was fighting for attention in his thoughts, but there was not time now. ‘You know you don’t have to come.’

‘One day, I won’t, you old bastard.’

‘Dumb after all,’ Vindex whispered.