Адриан Голдсуорти - Brigantia

‘She kills people,’ Ferox said.

‘If they deserve it.’

A scream split the air. ‘Come on, let’s take a look up there!’ He nodded towards a conical hill about a mile away, its top covered in trees. They walked, and the only one to see them was Cocceius who grinned and made a show of turning the other way.

‘How are you at tree climbing?’ Ferox asked as they neared the top. He saw the expression. ‘Fine, stay here and I’ll go.’

The oak was bare of all but a few shrivelled leaves and looked bigger than all the trees around it. Vindex crouched and made a cup for the centurion to put his foot in and Ferox managed to swing up onto the first big branch. For a while it was easy, the boughs solid and conveniently spaced, even though the rain had left them slippery. Ferox could not remember when he had last climbed a tree, and found that he enjoyed it far more than he expected. It was like being a child again. So far there was nothing to see save more trees and a squirrel that eyed him suspiciously. He pressed on, taking a while to choose his path. The little red-brown creature kept ahead of him, watching closely with its black eyes, and he fought the urge to throw something at it.

Ferox could not reach the next branch, even with his foot on a well-placed fork. He put all his weight on it, lifting the other boot in the air and gathering himself for a leap. As he jumped, the sole of his boot slipped. Fingers brushed against the branch above, but could not grasp it and he was falling, dropping five or six feet and landing astride another bough.

‘You all right?’ Vindex sounded distant, although he had obviously heard his friend’s yelp. The squirrel raised its front paws and scrutinised him. Then it bounded upwards, until it vanished.

‘Easy for you,’ he muttered.

‘You there yet?’

‘Yes!’ he shouted, and could not think of anything witty to add. After getting his breath back, he started again, finding a different way. Soon there were no more trees on either side, and he worked his way out wider until he could see properly. The branch bent under his weight, going lower and lower until he decided not to risk any more.

It took a while to get his bearings, although the camp and its smoking fire helped. That was sloppy, and he had found the Brigantes to be casual even by army standards when it came to concealing their presence. Beyond them, closer than he expected, although it was partly an illusion, was the rich blue of the sea. The mainland was so clear he could tell rain was coming without having to look at the brooding clouds rushing in from the west. To the left of the camp was the marsh, a richer green than the fields around about, but otherwise hard to tell apart until it turned into the pale brown of tall reeds. Deeper in there were glints of sunlight off water, perhaps from ponds or streams, then broader patches of blue free of reeds. There were two lakes, each a couple of hundred paces across and in between a spit of land rising into a low hill. A single tree stood at the highest point, and perhaps it had been the sapling Acco had mentioned. Three low stone huts stood a little apart, but there was no sign of life.

Ferox took a long time climbing down, ignoring Vindex’s increasingly impatient shouts. All the while he wondered whether to tell what he had learned. Crispinus’ threat might be a guess or mean that he had evidence for his affair with Sulpicia Lepidina; enough to humiliate and ruin her.

‘Oh, you haven’t gone,’ the scout said as he jumped to the floor. Vindex saw his expression. ‘Bad as that, is it?’

‘You know what tomorrow night is?’

‘Aye.’ It would be a day before the Kalends of November, but that was not what Ferox meant.

‘And do you want to be here then?’

‘I don’t want to be here at all. Still, we need to protect the lady.’

‘Who’ll protect us from her?’

The shepherd lay moaning on the grass when they returned. He was badly bruised all over his face and chest left bare by his torn tunic. They had carried him off to one side and dumped him there.

‘Where have you been?’ Crispinus barked angrily as he saw them.

‘Doing my job, my lord. I take it the prince learned all he needed to know.’

Arviragus appeared from behind a bush, straightening his trousers. One of his guards stood by holding his armour. ‘Don’t be insolent, centurion. And remember that you are a prisoner.’ He glanced at the shepherd and then back at Ferox. ‘So what have you learned?’

‘We will need the boat,’ Ferox said, and began to explain. An hour and a half later he sat in the prow as the soldiers rowed. Crispinus was behind him, as well as Cocceius. ‘In case we need a good swimmer,’ he had told the boy, who had almost burst with pride to be chosen. They headed around the coast to the east. First there were cliffs, then another beach, before rounding a headland they came to the edge of the marsh. They went in closer, looking for streams to take them inland. After a while they found one and followed it until in ended in reeds too thick to push through. The second one got them a little further before the keel hit mud, and then one of the soldiers remembered seeing something that might give them a chance over on the far side. Another cloudburst came in, drenching them afresh, but they found the mouth of the stream and although it wound back and forth it was wide and deep enough for them to keep going. On either bank were reeds so high that they could not see out. Ferox struggled to judge how far they had gone in a straight line, but although it became narrow and they had to paddle rather than row, they were still moving, ever deeper inside.

‘We need to turn around,’ the senior soldier said. ‘Otherwise be dark before we get back to sea.’

‘Just a little more,’ Ferox said, and Crispinus nodded his approval. They turned another bend and the reeds were sparse ahead of them. Ferox took a spear and thrust down into the water. It was only a couple of feet deep, but the mud below was loose. He tried again and hit something far more solid.

‘Ready, lad?’ he asked Cocceius. The boy grinned. Both men stripped off their clothes. Neither had come in armour. Ferox went first, dropping over the side. The shock of the cold water was appalling, but his boots sank only a little into mud before they stopped. He reached up for the spear, and prodded down through the water in front of him. As he took his first step, Cocceius came into the water behind him.

They waded on, the Batavian close behind. After a few paces the water deepened again and reached their chests. Ferox could feel the flow plucking at his legs and running out the way they had come. Mud sucked at his feet each time he lifted one, and he leaned on his spear to pull himself out. Another step and the water was at his chin, but the spear prodded and it was shallower ahead. He warned Cocceius, who grinned again, and pushed ahead. Then he was climbing, for there was almost a bank under the reeds, and as he pulled himself up, slipped, breaking the reed he was holding, and recovered, he suddenly saw it. The lake was smooth as glass and dark as night, and beyond it was the low hill and the tree. The huts must have been on the far side of the hill because he could not see them. Still, this was surely where Acco claimed to have sacrificed the man who had once carried Ferox’s sword, and his instincts told him that this too was the most sacred place Prasto had searched for and never found. If they were to find what they were looking for then it would be here.

‘Can we swim it?’ he asked the young Batavian.

The lad gave another big grin. ‘In our sleep.’

‘We need to go,’ Crispinus called. ‘Now, centurion, before we lose the light. If you have found what we want we shall return tomorrow.’