Адриан Голдсуорти - The Encircling Sea

Ferox shrugged because he did not have an answer.

Longinus continued. ‘So, let’s say you get out to their boat. I don’t think you’ll get within bowshot of it, because if you know how valuable it is to them, then you can bet Cniva does. How are you going to start a fire big enough to do some damage? Will you tell me that, centurion? Because if you can’t then I’ll kill you before you leave this tower and put us all at risk.’ The one eye glared at Ferox.

‘Thought you promised Flora that you would look after me?’ he said.

‘I’d be giving you a quicker, cleaner death than you’ll get out there. Be a consolation for the old girl. In fact, I can do it now, unless you can convince me to change my mind.’ The veteran tapped the hilt of his sword.

‘I have an idea,’ the centurion began, and explained his plan.

Longinus listened and then sniffed. ‘Might work, might not,’ he said grudgingly. ‘And you might be a rare genius or the biggest fool ever to swear an oath to the emperor.’

‘What’s the difference?’ Vindex said.

‘Luck,’ Longinus told him. ‘That’s what it comes down to more often than not.’

‘Well, I’ll be all right then,’ the scout declared. ‘Don’t know about you two.’

‘If we are really lucky the first of Brocchus’ men will be here soon and then he will be in charge and he can make the decisions,’ Ferox said.

‘And if the lad was imagining things?’ Longinus’ voice was harsh. ‘What if he just saw some merchant ships sailing along, oblivious? Or he was right, but a storm picks up and drives them away from the island?’

‘Then we’re humped,’ Vindex said. ‘But worrying won’t change it.’

The veteran sighed. ‘Still, maybe you are lucky, and maybe if they realise some of us are abroad and up to no good they will be worried. Cniva might just pull away from here to protect his stronghold and his ship. But my money is on you not being able to get out of this tower in the first place. So you’ll get nowhere, or be dead, or they’ll have you and we can watch while Cniva slices you up and promises to finish the job unless we surrender.’

‘In that case spit in his eye, whatever he does to me.’

‘That was my plan,’ Longinus said without a trace of humour. ‘You agree, lad?’ he added, glancing at Vindex.

‘Oh aye. I’m comfortable here. No sense in going out.’

Ferox went to check on the men guarding the entrance. Probus was there, along with one of the Batavians and the last of the scouts, and they had nothing to report apart from the driving rain. Another Batavian lay on the floor in one of the rooms off the winding corridor, dozing in his armour. Brigita sat on a stool beside him, honing the edge of her sword. She stared at Ferox when he looked in, but said nothing. He went back inside, heading for the store room. He found a sack, and then the rags soaked in oil from the broken amphora. Adding handfuls of dried straw, he stuffed it all into the sack. What he wanted was something that would catch fire and burn well, so that it was hot enough to spread. It was not much, but if he could get on board and have the time to gather ropes and anything else that would catch alight, and if he could jam it all somewhere out of the wind and rain, and if he could set it on fire, and if no one came to put the fire out before it took hold… Ferox did not follow the train of thought to the end. As Vindex had said, it was a lot of ifs.

‘I hear that you are leaving us, centurion.’ Sulpicia Lepidina was in the doorway.

‘Longinus told you?’

‘He did, and then Vindex told me. Although I rather think that I might have guessed.’

‘I always thought I was inscrutable.’ He tried to smile and could not.

‘To some perhaps.’ She came in and closed the door behind her. It was a small room, and with one step he was beside her. He dropped the sack and put both arms around her waist. They kissed once, and then she pulled away. ‘Longinus thinks that you will die.’

‘What about Vindex?’

She grinned. ‘He says that you want to be the hero in a tale, but that the gods love fools and might just let you get away with it.’

‘What do you think?’

‘That I do not have the right to tell you what to do.’ Sulpicia Lepidina ran her fingers lightly over his hand. ‘But that I do not want to lose you. You mean too much to me.’

Ferox pulled her close again, and this time she let him. He wondered about her words. His heart thrilled with love, especially now, when she was in his arms and he could pretend that it would always be like this. She had longed for motherhood, but given up real hope, and now he was the father of her only child, even if no one could ever know. Her marriage was one of convenience, a business arrangement made by her indebted father, passion wholly absent on each side. It was not unpleasant, for Cerialis was kind and decent, but it was a life of duty and he knew that she felt trapped and always forced to play a part rather than live as she would wish. She might truly love him, or at least love him enough that their rare encounters lifted her spirits and gave her memories to treasure, a glimpse of another life.

Yet he still wondered whether there was more. She was a femina clarissima , daughter of a man who had once been important and still was a senator and friend of many of the greatest men in the empire. Her brother was an exile, and that was another reason for the marriage to Cerialis, only an equestrian, but favoured by Trajan as well as being a wealthy man. Politics was the lifeblood of senators and their kin and he sometimes wondered whether she saw him as useful, a tool to save for some future struggle for power. He was a killer and she knew it, and politics sometimes required the keen edge of a sword.

‘Don’t die,’ she whispered, as he ran one hand through her hair and the other traced the outline of her hips. ‘Please don’t die.’ They kissed again, and he longed to peel off her dress, but knew that there was not the time. Both of them were breathing quickly, gasping as they held each other.

The door opened, and they started like children who were not quite children anymore surprised by a suspicious parent. It was Brigita and her face was solemn. She was not wearing a mail shirt, just a dark blue tunic.

‘Lady,’ she said in Latin. ‘I must speak with the centurion. It is important.’

Sulpicia Lepidina stood away from him, straightening her hair. ‘I should check on the stew.’ She nodded to Brigita as she left, shutting the door behind her.

‘You do not seem surprised,’ Ferox said to the queen.

‘No.’ At first he thought that this was all that she had to say, but after a moment she rubbed her hand over her chin, an oddly manly gesture in spite of the sword at her belt. ‘We spent days chained up in a tiny room. She spoke about her husband one way. When she spoke of you…’ The tall woman trailed off. ‘A high-born woman rarely can choose a husband for love.’ Ferox thought of her vague, elderly consort. ‘When I met her, I thought that she was beautiful, but soft. I was wrong. She said that you would come for her – for us even – and you did.’

‘I did not come alone.’

‘No, you did not. Nor can you do what you wish alone.’

‘And what do I wish to do?’

The queen ignored the question. ‘How well can you swim, Roman – or should I call you Silurian?’

‘I can swim,’ he acknowledged.

‘There is enough wood to make a raft for the weapons and the clothes,’ she said. ‘I have found some reeds and if we cut one or two of them then I can swim under the water. Perhaps you can do it too?’ He nodded. ‘We leave from the rear of the tower and go in the direction of the sea. I have looked and they rarely have more than one or two men watching from the shore on that side. We kill the men, the others come behind us with the raft. Then we leave.’