“If you aren’t, I’ll have a cavalry sweep out looking for you at dawn.”
“If I’m not back by then I probably won’t be back at all, but go ahead. It won’t do any harm.”
“Good hunting, then.” He clapped a hand on my shoulder in soldierly fashion, believing that I was a brave man instead of a suicidal fool.
We went out through the gate and walked toward the great rampart. This night we heard no overeager Gallic warriors taunting the men atop the walls. In fact, it was rather pleasant, with a sliver of moon and a multitude of stars in the sky. I could even make out the reflection of moonlight from the white crests of the nearby mountains. Night insects made their chirping sounds and a wind rustled the grass and the rushes in the ponds.
At the sally port in the rampart I repeated my story to the officer of auxilia who was in charge there. This one showed no particular astonishment, just writing down my name and the size of my party. We went on through. A few paces past the wall I called a halt.
“Do you have any paint?” I asked Ionus. He took a small pot from his belt purse and handed it to me. I dipped my fingers into the foul-smelling paste and smeared it on my face, then streaked my bare arms and legs. Then I tossed the pot to Hermes.
“Put this on. The only way we’re going to live through this is by not being seen. Ionus, what’s this paint made with?”
“Just soot and bear fat.”
“Good. Woad or walnut juice leave stains that last weeks. Now, Hermes, once we are one bowshot from the rampart we are truly on our own in enemy territory. Anyone who sees us out there will want to kill us on sight. Stay close to me, but not so close that you’ll bump into me. We have to maintain enough distance so that we can use our weapons if we have to. If you start falling behind us, say something, but don’t shout. Is that understood?” He nodded dumbly, his face a little frightened. Suddenly, this wasn’t such an adventure.
“Ionus, set us a good pace, but we aren’t accomplished cattle thieves who can see in the dark like you. Now let’s be off.”
Ionus set off and I let him go ten paces, then followed. We moved across the dark plain at a pace that was somewhere between a walk and a run; not the steady, plodding military pace but a sort of lope accomplished with the feet widespread to maintain balance on the uneven ground. The turf was springy beneath my feet and now I was grateful for the hard training Caesar had made me perform, for I found the experience exhilarating rather than the exhausting ordeal it might have been.
After about an hour of this we stopped by a little stream, dropped to our knees, and lapped up the cool water like thirsty dogs.
“How much farther?” I asked.
“As much more as we have come,” Ionus answered.
“I was afraid of that,” Hermes said. He was breathing heavily, but seemed to be in better shape than I was. He was no longer the soft city boy who had left Rome with me.
“This is good for you,” I assured him. “My father has always told me that suffering is the best thing for a man, and that young people these days don’t suffer enough and that’s why we’re such a degenerate lot.”
“If it’s all the same to you,” Hermes said, “I’ll let your father do the suffering, if he likes it so much.”
Ionus listened to us with a look of great puzzlement. He lived his whole life like this. Hardship for him had an entirely different meaning. He was barefoot, wearing trousers and a brief cloak that covered only his shoulders and upper back. He seemed perfectly comfortable thus attired.
After a short rest, we went on. The night grew chilly, but our exertions kept us warm. I strained my ears to hear approaching Gauls, or a cough or rustle from warriors lying in ambush, but we seemed to be protected by a spell of invisibility. Or perhaps the Gauls had turned sensible of a sudden and decided that nights were better spent sleeping instead of skulking about with weapons.
When we reached the foot of the mountain, I called another halt. “This is a hard climb and I don’t want to be out of strength when we get where we’re going,” I said. “If there’s anyone up there, we could have a fight on our hands when we arrive.”
Hermes and I sat down, gasping. Ionus just squatted, one hand resting idly on the hilt of his short, leaf-shaped sword. With his paint and his bushy hair sticking out in all directions, he looked like some forest goblin come calling.
The night chill struck our cooling, sweaty bodies and I donned my cloak. Hermes did the same. “Why do people live in a place like this?” he asked. He couldn’t understand why anyone would live anyplace except Italy, and Rome in particular. I was not far behind him in this.