Адриан Голдсуорти - The Fort

They had to build up gradually whenever a patrol included horses from the garrison, working on them to make them stronger and fitter each time. In March they did not go far up the valley, and instead tended to go down, where the slopes were gentler and the snow less. There were more farms down there, although the people were not much more forthcoming. Instead they remained wary, as such folk always were when any bands of armed men arrived, let alone strange soldiers come from far away.

A few horses went lame, and Ferox doubted that all would recover, while another bolted for no reason anyone could see and plunged into the river, smashing through the thick ice and being swept away by the current. The rider had leapt and landed well, but the animal was a pitiful sight when they found it, lying on the bank a mile downriver, forelegs broken and ribs smashed. They put the poor beast out of its misery and then cut off a foot as proof that army property had been destroyed – a practice followed by the cavalry in Moesia which Ferox had forgotten.

One man died on the next patrol. Sabinus said that the cavalryman had been showing off, and put his mount at the low wall encircling a ruined farm. The horse balked at the last minute, and the rider kept going, sailing over to slam into the ground. It was luck, simply bad luck, but he fell badly and broke his neck. In the days that followed there were more accidents, with a couple of falls and the mistakes with ladders, pulleys and other tools that were always a risk when you set soldiers to building and especially when you made them work quickly. One of the Brigantes even managed to drive an eight-inch nail through the hand of a comrade who was holding a beam in place.

A day after that Ferox took out another patrol and at one point led a dozen horsemen away from the main column to practise searching through the fir woods. Soon they lost each other, as was bound to happen. He was taking a chance and knew it, but his instincts were good and the man’s aim was bad. Some sense warned him and he twitched at the reins, making his horse lurch into a canter going to the left moments before the javelin whisked past and hit the trunk of a tree. The animal stumbled, almost fell, throwing his weight hard against the front horns of the saddle, and by the time he had recovered and turned the mare around all he could see was the darker shape of a horseman vanishing into the shadows.

There was the soft thud of hoofs on years of dried pine needles from behind and he turned again as one of the Brigantes appeared, a man named Vepoc, one of those who had been sent to the mines. He had a javelin in his hand and his face was impassive. Ferox’s cloak was around him, and he gripped the hilt of his sword.

Then Vindex appeared, from off to the side.

‘Hullo, who lost that?’ The thrown javelin had not driven deeply into the wood and was hanging down limply.

‘Not mine,’ Vepoc said, lifting his up as proof.

Ferox walked his horse over until he could grab the shaft and pull the weapon free. ‘No harm done,’ he said. ‘But time we went home.’

‘Home?’ Vindex muttered. ‘Oh, you mean the fort.’

Ferox let Vepoc ride behind them and before long they were back with the rest. None of the Brigantes or anyone else with the patrol was missing a javelin and no one had deserted. Rain started to fall and for two hours they rode back, gusts of wind blowing the drops hard against them. No one said very much and by the time they rode up the track to the main gates they all felt numb with cold.

Sabinus was waiting for him, and let the hood of his cloak fall back as he hurried over to see Ferox. The news was not good.

The ape was dead.

‘THAT IS FEROX,’ the Briton said and spat.

Brasus could see the centurion at the head of a couple of dozen riders. He was no longer surprised by Ivonercus’ hatred of his former commander. The Briton did not appear to feel much resentment to Rome, and his hatred was deeply personal. According to him the centurion and his friend had killed Ivonercus’ king and destroyed his family, taking lands from his father so that the broken man died in poverty.

‘And the pig Vindex beside him.’

They were too far away to make much out. Both were tall men by the look of it, even compared to the long-limbed Britons who made up half of the patrol. They must have been higher up the valley, which meant that it had been right to stay in the trees and walk rather than ride. The Briton had resented that, saying that it was easy to ride amid a forest like this, but had obeyed. He was being tested and he knew it. If Ivonercus ever wanted to be more than just a soldier for Decebalus then he needed to demonstrate that he was useful in other ways. So Brasus had brought him to help scout the Roman fort at Piroboridava – and brought two of his most trusted warriors along just to be sure. Fifty more men were waiting back at the tower and soon there might be more. The walls were to be rebuilt and the king’s presence in these lands restored. There was a plan. Brasus knew a little of it, and understood that the king wanted to learn more before he gave orders. The time was not yet right, but the first preparations were under way.

‘How many men does he command?’

Ivonercus showed a flash of anger. ‘As I have told you before, between five and six hundred. Maybe a quarter cavalry. Half of the rest are legionaries.’

‘You do not remember more?’

‘How can I? As I have said again and again, I never reached the fort. We tried to kill Ferox outside, but failed and I escaped with my servant.’

‘Ah yes, your servant.’ Brasus wondered whether that was true, as the men seemed very familiar with each other. The Britons said that this was from hard labour together in the mines and the custom of his folk. They had left the man behind at the tower and he would be killed if they did not all return. Ivonercus knew this and if he did not understand the words he must also have appreciated the sense of Brasus’ orders to the warriors with them. ‘Kill him if he does anything suspicious. Anything at all. A wrong look, a wrong gesture, and this Briton dies. He can be useful to us, but this is all too important to risk discovery. One day we will fight, perhaps here. That is not today. Today we are the eyes and ears of the king.’ He had regretted the phrase immediately. Yet this was his duty. Fate or calculation would guide Decebalus, and his part was simply to obey and live or die as one of the faithful should.

‘So tell me again about this Ferox.’ The Roman patrol was heading down towards the bridge and the fort. Brasus could see a cluster of houses and buildings outside the walls, and one big one almost beside the river. He had seen something similar at Sarmizegethusa where the Romans had a garrison outside the walls of the king’s fortress. That one was even bigger and fires were stoked all the time so that the Romans could pamper themselves with baths. Odd how a people who neglected their souls wished to scrub their bodies.

‘He is one of the Silures,’ Ivonercus said the name as if it should mean something. ‘The wolf people, the cruel people. One of their royal house, though they do not have kings. When his tribe was beaten by the Romans they took him and raised him in their ways. He has been Roman longer than he was a Silure, but the wolf still lurks in his soul.’ Ivonercus’ Latin was good, in spite of his thick accent, and they had found this the easiest way to speak. The Briton knew no more than a word or two of Greek.

‘Wolves hunt in packs,’ Brasus said. He was studying the fort as best he could from this distance. The ramparts were earth and timber, the towers quite high – with the highest over the main gates – but after the Roman fashion they were set back into the walls. Outside was a double line of ditches, and though he could not see them there were bound to be the usual traps and stakes. All in all it was like most Roman forts he had seen – not laid out with cunning, not impossible to take, but not easy either. He could see no spot obviously weaker than the rest. The fort was quite big, especially for six hundred men and that would stretch the defenders thin.