Адриан Голдсуорти - The Fort

The floor of the forest was a mass of needles, most faded brown and dry and they muffled the sound of the horse’s feet until they were very close. They came closer. Brasus glimpsed the black-haired man riding a grey horse towards him. The Roman came closer and closer, passing out of view. The only way for Brasus to see down would have been to shift his feet from the ropes and move, but that was bound to make noise. If he stayed absolutely still then he would be very hard to see, even if the man thought to look up – hard, but not impossible. He doubted the Roman would come up after him, but there must still be soldiers close by and they could wait for him to come down or perhaps reach him with javelins or arrows.

‘Trying to get killed, are we?’ Another Roman was approaching from the opposite side. He spoke good Latin with an accent much like Ivonercus, so was probably another Briton. ‘Wandering off on your own.’

‘Maybe I’m luring you away. Reckon the price on your head must be even higher now.’ That was the first man, now almost below him. His voice was deep, with a different, almost musical intonation. ‘You know what Silures are like.’

Outlandish though it was, the name had stuck in Brasus’ mind. This must be Flavius Ferox, the man hated and feared by Ivonercus.

‘Bastards the lot of them,’ the other man said. ‘Can’t trust ’em for a moment.’

They said no more for a long while. Brasus heard the soft footfalls of their horses as they moved around close beneath him. He tried not to imagine faces searching upwards, of enemies grinning because they had seen the man hanging from the branches. One of the horses whinnied, then shook its head and blew noisily.

‘So what do you reckon happened?’ the second man asked. Brasus wondered if this was Vindex and his instincts told him that it was. No chance had brought him here today. Fate was at work and the will of the Lord of the Heavens. He had known that this was the place and that he needed to be here, and the same instincts told him that he would not die today.

‘Someone shot arrows at them.’

There was a pause. ‘That it?’ Vindex said. ‘Might just have worked that one out on my own.’

‘Given time,’ Ferox conceded. He waited and then sighed. ‘The arrow came from the sort of bows the king issues to his warriors. Bit like our army ones and almost as good. The men were on foot – three, maybe four of them. Don’t think they planned it, or if they did they didn’t plan it well. Probably just saw a chance and took it. Wanted to prove their courage, I guess. They killed all the horses apart from one, so if they wanted those, then they made a mess of it.’

‘So what does it mean? You still reckon war is coming?’

‘Never doubted it for a moment. Why send us here otherwise?’

‘The lass is trying to please the Romans by giving them men.’

‘The lass?’ Ferox sighed again. ‘She’s your queen. Haven’t you Carvetii always been the queen’s folk. Still, given what you used to call her, guess it’s an improvement.’

‘Calling her the queen only makes me sad. You really buggered up there.’ Vindex sniffed in contempt. ‘More than usual, I mean. She’s my queen all right, and a wise one, but… So you reckon the Romans want soldiers from her to help fight a new war. Haven’t they got enough soldiers without this mob?’

‘Maybe they want to keep the good soldiers alive?’

‘Cheerful sod as usual. So we’re humped again.’

‘As usual,’ Ferox said.

‘Aye, as usual,’ Vindex agreed. ‘But everyone’s been telling us since we got here that the war is over.’

‘That’s the old war,’ Ferox told him. ‘We get the new one that hasn’t started yet. Your people never fought the Romans.’

‘Not while anyone was watching.’ Vindex chuckled. ‘No, not really. Too smart for that. We made friends. Had enough enemies already without finding a new one. And they’ve treated us right enough since. Left us alone most of the time, which is the main thing.’

‘The Dacians are special,’ Ferox said. ‘Remember that farm we passed last month? The one where the people were sobbing and wailing?’

‘Aye, but I still don’t get it. You said a baby had been born – a boy too. Who is mad enough to mourn when mother and child both survive?’

‘They celebrate a death. Birth means a life of toil, sorrow and imperfection is ahead. Death means that the soul goes to their god and lives in blessedness forever.’

‘Daft buggers.’

‘Means they don’t fear death. Not the true faithful at least, and especially not the nobles. You haven’t met any of them yet, nor true Dacians rather than Getae. They’re brave and they’re smart – and their king is the smartest of the lot. You can’t beat folk like that or a leader like that in a couple of years, so there is a war coming, it’s just a matter of when. This year, next year, the one after that? We’ll start it if they don’t, but you know the Romans, they like to say the other lot started every war.’

‘Do they? Haven’t they noticed that they own most of the world.’

‘They’d say that they are just very good at defending themselves, wouldn’t they? Still, makes me wonder whether Trajan wouldn’t mind if a couple of his garrisons get attacked and massacred?’

‘And we took an oath to this high chief?’ Vindex said something else in what sounded like the Celtic language, but Brasus could not understand. However, the tone made the general meaning obvious. ‘So we’re the bait, are we?’ he went on, switching back to Latin. ‘Shove a few hundred useless Brigantes who want to kill each other and us in a fort in the middle of nowhere and wait for the wolves to gather?’

‘I could be wrong.’

‘You often are,’ Vindex said without any conviction. ‘Hey, what are you doing?’ There was the sound of a man dismounting and then a scraping. ‘Trying to blunt it are you?’

‘Just checking,’ Ferox said. ‘And then we need to go and take a look at that Dacian fort up near the pass.’

‘No one was there last time.’

‘Then let’s make sure it’s still empty. Are you coming?’

‘Miserable git. No wonder the lass kicked you out.’

‘Aye, well, as you say, she’s wise.’

Brasus listened as they left, letting himself breathe naturally at last. Fate had brought him here and times like this took away all the doubts. This Ferox was indeed one of those unusual, dangerous Romans, and that thought kept him in the tree long after he was sure that they had gone. There was only an hour or so left of daylight when he climbed down, but even in the shadows beneath the trees he could make out the shape this Ferox had carved in the bark of the tree. Brasus’ blood ran cold.

‘WHAT! BASTARD WAS up a tree all the time!’ Vindex was as angry as he was surprised. He and Ferox were up on top of the gate tower, and they spoke in the language of the tribes because the only sentries nearby were legionaries.

‘It’s an old trick in these parts. They hide scouts or archers up in the trees. They use ropes so they can stay for a long time – even tie themselves in place. Then they wait. Some of them are good at waiting.’

‘And you didn’t say anything.’

‘No point. And it took me a while to be sure. Only glimpsed him once even then. He did not try to kill either of us, so maybe he did not have a bow, or maybe the angle was wrong or he just wanted to stay hidden up there. In that case showing that I’d spotted him might just make him think a shot was worthwhile.’