Nobody Loves a Centurion(65)

“If Germans hanged the Druids, then there are Germans nearby, right?” Hermes said.

“Your grasp of logic is phenomenal,” I commended.

“No, I mean there are a lot of them, right? More than just those two you saw a few nights ago?”

“Not necessarily.” In fact, I had been brooding over that very question. The boy wasn’t really foolish. “Those were two huge, powerful warriors, and two of the Druids were elderly, and no Druid is trained to arms. Two such brutes as Eintzius and Eramanzius could easily have overpowered these sacerdotal Gauls.”

“Still,” he said dubiously, “getting them all the way up that mountain, and building a bonfire and hauling them up into the trees: that sounds like a big job for two men.”

“Well, they proclaimed themselves to be of royal lineage. Doubtless they came here with companions. But a few dozen Germans are nothing to worry about.”

“Just as long as it’s not an army of them.” Hermes was getting to be like everybody else; jumping at every shadow, worried about our tiny numbers and exposed condition. Like everybody else, he had ample justification for his fears.

A thorough search of the forum and other more or less public areas failed to turn up Molon or Freda. The centuries were no more helpful. Even an encampment of six thousand men is a small community and Freda was the most noticeable creature for a hundred miles in all directions. An elephant could not have drawn more attention.

“Maybe they went to the camp of the auxilia,” Hermes said. “Slaves and foreigners go in and out through the gates pretty freely during daylight.”

“I don’t know what they’d be doing there but it’s worth a look,” I grumbled. So it was back out through the Sinistra gate I had ridden through that morning. Nobody on the gate remembered seeing them, but that watch had only been on duty for a short time.

The other camp was only two bowshots away, so that there was no dead ground between them where an enemy could be safe. Its defenses were much less elaborate, for in real danger the auxilia would simply move into the legionary camp, doubling its manpower. Because a high proportion of the auxilia were cavalry, the camp sprawled over a greater area than that of the legionaries, and foraging parties went out every day with sickles to cut fodder for the animals.

I found Carbo drilling his spearmen just outside the camp while his scouts lounged around, trying to look too important for such drudgery.

“They don’t look too bad, for barbarians,” I commended.

“Gauls don’t take well to close-order drill,” he said, “but they’ll learn. Once they’ve seen how easily disciplined troops deal with howling, sword-brandishing savages, they’ll get the spirit.”

“If they don’t get massacred first,” I said.

He shrugged. “Not much you can do about overwhelming numbers. A single legion can deal with double the number of savages. Three legions together can handle ten times as many. Ten legions can defeat any number at all. The trick seems to be getting the legions here.”

“It is a problem. By the way, Cnaeus, have you happened to see my German girl today?”

He cocked an eyebrow toward me. “Don’t tell me you’ve misplaced her?”

“Haven’t seen her since, well, fairly late last night, before all the excitement. I’ve been so busy that I haven’t had a chance to look for her. Molon is gone, too.”

“That one’s no loss. The girl, though—a prize like that doesn’t fall to every soldier’s lot. No, I haven’t seen her.” He questioned his men and they talked for a while among themselves, making lascivious faces and many hand gestures indicating the feminine form. Apparently Freda was as well known among the auxilia as among the legionaries.

“No, they haven’t seen her either,” Carbo said. “And believe me, they’d have noticed. You might try in the camp.”

“I intend to. By the way, I’ve come across some more information, but keep this to yourself for a while.” I gave him a brief summation of what Lovernius had told me.

“So now the Germans are in it, eh? Do you think the girl sprinted for the hills to join her kinsmen?”

“I can’t see why,” I told him. “She was just a slave among them to begin with, so why go back? No slave in the world has as easy a life as a Roman house slave. Why trade that for some filthy village where a flea-bitten chieftain’s wife will treat her worse than a dog?”

“That makes sense to me, but who knows how a barbarian’s mind works? She may prefer bad treatment in familiar surroundings.”