Nobody Loves a Centurion(77)

On the morning of the sixth day, we woke in a deserted camp. I jerked up and looked around wildly. “Hermes! They’re gone!”

“Huh?” he said brightly, blinking and staring owlishly. “Where did they go?”

“Back to Germania, I hope! Come on, let’s get loose from these bonds.” So we sat back to back and made a ridiculous attempt to untie one another’s ropes. Then we gave that up and tried to tug up our stakes. No luck there, either.

“This is going to take some thought,” I said finally. “Maybe we can rub the cords through against a rock.”

“No rocks around here,” Hermes said, looking about him. “Hey, where did the god go?”

I looked behind us and saw a hole in the ground where the ugly thing had stood. “They dug it up and broke camp without waking us,” I observed. “These Germans know how to handle themselves in the dark.”

“Here comes somebody,” Hermes said apprehensively. We watched the treeline and a moment later an ugly, gnomish, but familiar figure came through.

“Thought I’d sneak back and make life a little easier for you two.” From within his tunic he produced a knife with a short blade and cut our bonds. “Get along now, before the Germans notice I’m gone.”

“Tell me something, Molon,” I said.

“What?”

I grabbed his right arm and raised it. “Tell me about this.” Around his wrist was the silver bracelet I had seen worn by Titus Vinius on the day of our first encounter. “How did you get it? From the Druids? What sort of private game have you been playing?” I twisted it off his arm.

“Ow!” he cried, rubbing his wrist. “If you must know, I took it when I heard Vinius was dead. It was with his dress gear in the tent.”

“The others said he never took it off,” I pointed out.

“Well, he couldn’t very well be wearing it and pass for a slave, could he? Come on, give it back. I turned you loose, didn’t I?”

“I need it,” I explained. “I am going to show it to Caesar as evidence that this insane story is not just a lot of vaporing on my part.”

“You are an ungrateful man,” Molon said. “I gave you good service, even though I really wasn’t your slave.”

“Yes, and how you came to be an adviser to Ariovistus must make quite a story, but I haven’t time to hear it. You’d probably just lie, anyway.”

“Any chance of getting our swords back?” Hermes said.

“Are you serious?” Molon said. “That much iron?”

“Come along, Hermes, let’s be away from here.” I turned for a last time to Molon. “Tell Princess Freda, if that is her title, that I shall always remember her fondly.”

“She’ll be glad to hear it,” he grinned. “I know she thinks the world of you, Senator.” Who knows when a man like that is telling the truth? He walked away, back into the forest.

We got lost a few times, but I had a general idea of where we were and how to get back. The hills were not unpleasant early in the day, and such was the menace from our two-legged enemies that we did not even bother to worry about wolves and bears and such. The air was fresh, we were free, and our bruises were fading. Best of all, I had found out the truth about the death of Titus Vinius and I would save Burrus and his friends. I explained this to Hermes, who was starting to complain.

“No, best of all, the Germans are going away. As for the rest, I’m tired, I’m sore, and I’m hungry.”

“Don’t be so joyful about the Germans,” I chided him. “The Helvetii will kill us just as dead if they catch us.”

“See? Things aren’t so good after all.”

The mountainside where the sacrifices had taken place seemed almost as familiar as home by the time we reached it, early in the evening. After that there was no great problem as to direction: just go downhill. The first stars were coming out as we reached the plain.

“Not far now,” I said.

“Well, at least it’s flat,” Hermes commented.

I should have known by that time that no smallest aspect of my time in Gaul was going to be truly pleasant or easy. Shortly after midnight a heavy ground fog closed in. We strode on, but less confidently.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Hermes said. “Maybe we should wait for daylight.”

“I don’t want to be caught out here on the plain,” I told him. “We’ll just have to trust to my sense of direction.” He looked dubious at this. “We have to reach the rampart pretty soon. It’s nineteen miles long. That’s pretty hard to miss.”