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Nobody Loves a Centurion(70)

By:John Maddox Roberts


“Found something!” Hermes said eagerly.

“Keep your voice down,” I told him. “What have you got?” He held out a small, curved object of brownish color. It appeared to be the tip of an antler, pierced in its center for a thong, either a part of a necklace or a toggle of some sort.

Ionus looked it over. “German,” he said. “For fastening one of their fur tunics here.” He clapped a palm over his shoulder.

“Lovernius was on the right track, then,” I said, inordinately pleased. “Let’s see what else we can find.”

A minute later Ionus, prodding at the ashes of the fire, called us over. Protruding from the cinders was a charred bit of wood that still bore a recognizable carving: three faces turned in three directions.

“That’s adding sacrilege to murder,” I said, “burning the Druids’ staffs in the bonfire.” For it had to be the staff of Badraig or possibly one belonging to one of the others.

Further search turned up more than I would have expected, but nothing terribly helpful. There were some wisps of dyed wool, probably from the garments of the Gauls who came and took down the bodies. There were some bits of fur that might have come from the clothes of the Germans. Hermes even found a couple of tiny arrowheads beautifully fashioned from flint, but these might have lain there for centuries.

Ionus turned out to be something of a disappointment. It seems that among the Gauls, hunting is pretty much restricted to the upper aristocracy, so common warriors like Ionus did not develop great facility with things like tracks and other signs. Their skills were those of cattle raiding and warfare. Hermes and I, sons of the City that we were, displayed even less acumen.

At midday, we halted our desultory search and dug into our provisions. I had brought along some bread and dried figs. Hermes had prudently dropped a hunk of cheese into the front of his tunic before leaving the camp and Ionus had some salted fish in his pouch, along with a few early onions bought from one of the peasants who hawked their produce in the fora of the camps.

“Have we learned much?” Hermes asked, munching away.

“Not yet,” I told him. “But we have plenty of daylight yet. There’s still the ground under the trees all around here to look at, and it might be worthwhile climbing into the trees.”

“Climbing?” Hermes said. “What for?”

“Somebody had to go up there to arrange the ropes,” I told him. Actually, I was not certain of this. I had never dealt with a hanging before.

The food was so dry that I barely choked down the last few bites. I asked Ionus where we could find some water.

He pointed to the eastern edge of the clearing. “There’s a spring a little way over there.” We got up, brushing crumbs from our tunics, and followed his lead. A few minutes of walking brought us to a little gorge carved into the side of the hill where water tumbled noisily over jagged rocks. We found a relatively calm spot and knelt by the stream, thrusting our faces into the water and drinking deep. It was delightful stuff, far better than anything you can get from a well.

I can’t really say how we were caught so easily. It may have been that concentrating on the ground sapped our alertness to our surroundings. Possibly the noise of the stream deafened us to other sounds. Most likely, it was simply that Romans ought to stay in Rome. I never would have left, given a choice.

We had our faces out of the water, taking a breath, when Ionus’ head jerked up abruptly. “We are not alone,” he said quietly.

Hermes and I scrambled to our feet as the Gaul straightened from his crouch effortlessly, pivoting to scan this way and that. Then I saw them; shadowy shapes coming closer, weaving between the trees. They were hulking figures, more like beasts than men, for they wore the hides of animals.

With a single bound, Ionus dived headfirst into a clump of brush. Wriggling like a snake, he was gone from sight in an instant and no sound betrayed his passage.

“I wish I knew how to do that,” I said.

“He’s deserted us!” Hermes cried, panic in his voice.

“Wouldn’t you?” I demanded.

One of the men barked something to the others. Some of them continued to approach us, not bothering any longer with stealth. Others combed through the brush, poking it with their spears, trying to find Ionus. There were at least a dozen closing in on us with their weapons leveled. I heard a rasping sound next to me and saw out of the corner of my eye that Hermes had drawn his sword. With the edge of my hand I chopped at his wrist and he dropped the weapon with a yelp.

“What did you do that for?” he demanded. “They’ve come to kill us! We have to fight!”