Traitor Page 8

  ‘It will be nice to have a fire,’ is what he said instead.

  So I built the fire, set the wood alight, and, in all likelihood, signed our death warrant with the flame.

  ‘We should stay in the dark,’ I told Cynbel. ‘Save our vision.’

  ‘And waste a good fire?’ His grin was grim. ‘There comes a point, Corvus, where you must let go and trust to fate.’ He sat down then, placed his axe beside him, and stared into the flames. ‘I believe we are at that point.’

  I stood reluctantly for a moment, then joined him. The man was right. This fire was my leap of faith. If I was to jump, then it should be with both legs.

  ‘Thank you, Cynbel.’ I turned to look at him. ‘Thank you for everything.’

  Thank you for being my tutor.

  Thank you for bringing Beatha to this world.

  Thank you for being here with me now, at the end.

  ‘Thank you.’

  He patted me on the back. ‘I have missed adventure.’

  It was a tease. He would say no more.

  ‘Tell me of my father, then,’ I asked him. I had buried my grief for the man deep within me, but he was never far from my mind. ‘He didn’t ever tell me that he was a soldier. Where did he fight? Who did he fight for?’

  My old friend smiled. ‘All in good time, Corvus. For now, let’s concentrate on surviving your own war.’

  He looked at me then. I saw worry in his eyes, and not the worry of what was to come. ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Tell me,’ I insisted.

  ‘I looked in your pack,’ he said after a moment. ‘When you went into Iadar. I didn’t realise it was yours, at first. I thought maybe one of… them had left it behind.’

  Cynbel said nothing more. ‘Why are you telling me this?’ I asked him.

  He held his silence for so long that I didn’t think he would speak. ‘Corvus,’ my old tutor said at last, ‘there was no food in the pack. What were you going to eat, up there on the hill with Beatha?’

  Our fire burned. The wood crackled.

  I said nothing.

  There was a second of sadness in his eyes, and then they narrowed. ‘Listen,’ he told me.

  In the far distance, a horn was blaring.

  * * *

  They came for us later in the night. They must have wondered who we were, two idiots beside a fire. They must have believed that we were the bait to a trap, and that more men were waiting in the stone hovel, ready to burst out on those who were drawn to the flame.

  ‘It’s just us!’ Cynbel called out in Dalmatian. ‘Come and join us by the fire, friends!’

  We could both sense them in the darkness. Black shapes that moved just outside of the fire’s light.

  ‘Stand up,’ Cynbel whispered to me. ‘Show your hands.’

  I did.

  ‘We are no threat,’ Cynbel said, and I braced myself for arrows and javelins from the dark.

  Who was out there? I had made a gamble with our lives. A bet that we were far enough into rebel country that it would be they who found us in the mountains, and not Romans. And even if I was right, there was nothing to say that they would not kill us anyway.

  I looked at Cynbel. He almost seemed to be enjoying himself.

  ‘I’m old, friends!’ He spoke to the darkness. ‘Please come out and join us before my bladder gives up on me. It is the size of a grape these days, and this one will never let me hear the end of it if I piss myself!’

  The lick of flame. The crack of wood. No voices.

  But movement.

  It was behind us. Someone was checking the hovel.

  ‘It’s clear,’ they said.

  I almost sagged in relief.

  The words were not Latin.

  A shape emerged from the darkness.

  By the flame I saw that he was as wide as he was tall, with a thick beard and a face like a battered cliff. There was an axe in his hand and a blade on his belt. What was left of his hair was grey, and dirty. If ever I saw a brigand and a bandit it was this man. He looked like he lived on a diet of rocks.

  The man stopped and appraised us both. I saw his finger tapping the haft of his axe – he was making a decision. He looked from me, to Cynbel, and back again.

  And then he struck.

  The squat man was faster than he looked. My arms were in the air, and so there was no stopping the strike that came at me with the speed of a serpent. There was no chance to defend. I was powerless, and I felt his arms wrap around my back, and smelled the cheap wine on his breath.

  ‘Brothers!’ he laughed as he hugged me. ‘Brothers!’

  I was released from his grip, and Cynbel was subjected to the same assault. I saw the Briton’s eyes pop in their sockets as our guest made himself known with a second embrace.

  He stood back, then. A half dozen others emerged from the shadows. They were older men, or younger boys. The males, I guessed, who had not been required at the marshalling grounds.

  ‘I am Thumper!’ the bearded cliff face proclaimed. He seemed to forget then that it was he who had joined us by the fire, and not the other way round. ‘Welcome!’ he said. ‘Sit, sit, please. Make yourselves comfortable.’

  I did not look at Cynbel. I could sense his mirth.

  ‘An honour to meet you, Thumper. I am Cynbel.’

  ‘What kind of accent’s that?’ Thumper frowned. ‘You’re not Greek, are you?’

  ‘I’m a Briton.’

  ‘What? Never heard of it.’

  ‘It’s on the other side of the Empire.’

  ‘Part of Rome?’

  Cynbel shook his head. I could see his pride. ‘No. Rome does not own us.’

  Thumper laughed. ‘But it owned you, I suppose?’ Cynbel nodded, and the man laughed again. He looked at me then. ‘This your master? Your son?’

  ‘My student.’

  ‘You haven’t taught him to talk yet, then?’ He laughed again.

  ‘I am Corvus,’ I said, instantly regretting the use of my real name, but if it meant anything to Thumper, he didn’t show it.

  ‘Corvus? What’s that mean?’

  ‘Raven.’

  ‘So you peck people’s eyes out, do you? Ha! My name’s Thumper,’ he told us again. I didn’t need to guess why – the man’s fists were boulders.

  He turned to his men. ‘Two of you go and stand watch. The rest of you, get some sleep.’ He looked back to us. ‘Tiring work, defeating an empire!’ There was no doubt in his mind that we could be anything other than friends, and why not – who else would have been stupid enough to light a fire here, and travel as a pair?

  One of Thumper’s older men lingered. ‘What?’ Thumper asked him.

  ‘What if the Romans see the fire?’

  ‘Then I’ll stack them on it!’ Thumper laughed. ‘How do you like that, lads?’ He winked at myself and Cynbel. ‘I’ll chop up some nice Roman wood for the fire! Ha! How do you like that?’

  He picked up his axe and swung it through the air at the unseen enemy. It came within a foot of Cynbel’s head, but the Briton didn’t flinch.

  ‘You fight the Romans?’ I asked.

  ‘I do!’ he answered proudly. ‘They called two of my sons to the marshalling grounds. Four of my nephews, too. When I heard that Rome had turned on us, well, I had no choice did I? I picked up my axe and I said, “Thumper! It’s up to you now! You must distract the legions.” So that’s what I’ve been doing!’

  ‘We haven’t seen any for weeks…’ I heard muttered from the darkness.

  Thumper turned towards the voice. ‘Exactly! Been leading them around in circles, we have! Deception, boys! Then, when they’re tired out, we’ll strike!’

  I could see by the flame that it was Thumper’s men who were tired out. I reckoned that his massive fists had more to do with his position as leader than any tactical brilliance.

  ‘We’re trying to reach the army,’ I told him. I didn’t need to say rebel. We were on the same side.

  Thumper stroke
d his beard. ‘You a deserter?’

  I didn’t deny it.

  ‘Student my arse,’ he laughed to Cynbel. ‘I know a killer when I see one. So you’re Roman then?’

  I shook my head. It was true enough. Deserters could be stripped of citizenship, and I expected nothing but the harshest of punishments if I were caught.

  ‘We’ve come from Iadar,’ Cynbel explained.

  ‘True sons of Dalmatia!’ Thumper beamed, forgetting the Briton’s place of birth. ‘I will take you there, brothers. I’ll take you to the army.’

  A voice in the darkness. ‘Shouldn’t we stay here and distract the legions, boss?’

  Thumper didn’t hear the sarcasm. I saw a twitch of a smile on Cynbel’s lips.

  ‘There’ll be time for that!’ Thumper promised. ‘We will take our noble brothers here to the army. But first, we eat!’

  ‘We don’t have any food, Thumper.’ The voice in the darkness again.

  It did nothing to dampen the spirit of the leader. ‘Then first, we sleep!’

  He slapped me on the shoulder. It shook my skull, but I smiled.

  We had found friends in the mountains.

  Chapter 17

  I didn’t get much sleep. Not because of Thumper’s farts or Cynbel’s snoring, but because of where I was, and what I was doing.

  Thumper had set his own guards, and the tired men made no argument when I said that I would take the watch. That was no surprise to me. Thumper had welcomed us, and these men were not soldiers. They had been forced by fortune into war, and their tiredness overrode their senses. They shouldn’t have let a stranger take a watch, but fatigue makes fools of men.

  Not that they had cause to worry. I had been true in my words to Thumper. I had ridden east with Cynbel because I wanted to find the men who killed my father, but how would I do that? I was known to the legions. I could no more ride into Siscia than I could into the emperor’s palace. No. If I wanted to find those men it would need to be on a battlefield – or close to one, at least. Maybe as the armies drew near I could find them. Or perhaps, as the rebel and Roman armies drew up to face each other, I could walk out between them, and in front of the eyes of thousands, announce myself and demand that my father’s killers face me in single combat.

  It was a dream – a bloody dream – but what else did I have? I couldn’t stay in Iadar with the shame of my father’s death. I could stand by my decision to desert the legion as the right one – I was tired of killing for Rome – but those riders had come to summon a killer from my father’s home, and in that they had succeeded. Blood would pay for blood.

  Was it Marcus who had led them?

  There was no way to know, but sense told me it was so. For a second I pictured driving a blade through my brother’s chest, but the vision caused me to feel nothing but revulsion. If that was revenge, did I want it?

  ‘Yes,’ I told myself.

  But did I believe it?

  * * *

  I woke the others earlier than I needed to.

  ‘You’re keen,’ Thumper grinned, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

  I did not want to linger with my thoughts, but what man would say such a thing? ‘Good to be ready before dawn,’ I said instead, as a soldier.

  Thumper let loose a massive fart.

  ‘You’ll cause a landslide,’ Cynbel told him.

  Thumper liked that, and roared with laughter. I could hear him strain as he tried to follow the first fart with another. I worried the man would pass out.

  ‘Shall we get going?’ I urged as patiently as I could.

  ‘Keen to kill Romans, eh?’ Another slap on my shoulder. ‘Right you are! Follow Thumper!’

  * * *

  Cynbel and I led our horses behind the Pannonian. Though he was a big man, Thumper moved down the mountain with the grace of a mountain goat, sure-footed and nimble. As light and heat filled the valley, he took us through defiles, broken forest and streams.

  I looked about me at the mountains, then to Thumper. His knowledge of this place was intimate, and absolute. No wonder the rebels had given the legion such a bloody nose when we patrolled these places.

  Thumper caught the meaning of my looks, and laughed. ‘Been on the end of us, have you?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Well, no hard feelings, eh? Men fight. That’s what we do. No reason to take it personally. Not unless it’s the Greeks.’

  ‘What’s wrong with the Greeks?’ I asked on behalf of Cynbel, a fierce student of its sons.

  ‘What’s wrong with the Greeks? Ho! Young Corvus! What’s wrong with the Greeks, you say? Well, there’s Zeus for a start. I’ve never been fond of a man who can’t keep his snake to himself. Nothing causes trouble like a wandering snake, and Zeus? Well, he’d shag a stone if it looked at him the wrong way, wouldn’t he? Dirty old bastard. Oh, we’ve all been there I suppose, but not now. My cock’s not much use these days. Sleepy old fellow he is. What about yours, Cynbel?’

  ‘Mine’s more fond of napping, these days,’ the Briton confirmed. ‘You know these mountains well, Thumper.’

  ‘Well of course I do! They’re my mountains. You go to any farm or village around here for twenty miles! Tell them you’re a friend of Thumper, and they’ll take care of you!’

  ‘Should we tell them that we’re Greek?’ Cynbel teased.

  ‘Well, why would you want to do a thing like that? You know it’s the Greeks’ fault we have the Romans, don’t you?’

  I ignored his question and answered with one of my own. ‘Thumper, who leads the rebel army?’

  He laughed. ‘The rebels? You still think like a Roman, even if you don’t fight for them. We’re the liberators! Rebels! Ha! Your pal Tiberius tell you that?’

  ‘Who leads the liberators?’ I tried again.

  Thumper skipped nimbly across the rocks of a stream. I walked into it, and felt the cool water of the mountain soothe my feet as Ahren stopped to drink.

  ‘Well, here’s what you need to understand. That’s a nice horse, by the way. Would you like to sell him?’

  ‘The liberators, Thumper?’ Cynbel steered him with a smile.

  ‘Oh, yes! Well, you’ve got the Dalmatian tribes under Bato. He’s a hard bastard, I hear. Built like a mountain. Heroic, and clever.’

  He hadn’t been clever enough to beat the Romans at Salona, I knew. Or clever enough to avoid defeat against my legion. I kept my lips shut.

  ‘He’s further north with his army. Now us Pannonians, we have a great leader, too. I mean, he’s not of my tribe, but I can recognise a good sort when I see one.’

  ‘You’ve met him?’ I asked.

  ‘Well no, but you know what I mean.’ I didn’t, but he continued. ‘He’s of the Breuci. They’re the most powerful of the Pannonian tribes. Like I say, he’s a good sort. He’s an honourable man, King Pinnes. Can’t say the same for his commander.’

  ‘His commander?’ I asked.

  ‘Pinnes is the king, and rules the roost, but he gives a lot of rope to his commander. Nasty piece of work, he is.’

  I remembered a name. ‘Ziva.’

  ‘Oh, you’ve heard of him?’

  I had. He paid a good price for Roman prisoners.

  Thumper read the look on my face. ‘Yes, well, it’s not the way I’d do things, I can tell you that. I’m all for killing a man, but torture? Never been a fan. Fighting is man against man. It’s a job. A bloody job, but a job. Just has to get done, doesn’t it? I never used to torture my cattle before I killed them, so why would I torture a man?’

  ‘You had cattle?’ I asked, surprised. Nothing about Thumper struck me as a farmer.

  ‘I had a lot of things once.’

  ‘What happened to them?’

  ‘What happens to everything, Corvus?’ He smiled as a man who had hoped, and lost.

  ‘Rome.’

  Chapter 18

  We trekked north-east through wooded mountains. We walked for five days. In this time I came to know little of Thumper’s group, save that the
men who made up his less than merry band were too old or too young to be summoned to fight for the Empire, and they had little wish to fight against it now. They did not carry old spears and axes because they wanted war, but because their village headman demanded that they fight.

  ‘Everyone’s got to pull their weight,’ that man told them every time they grumbled about the extra mile, or the next climb. ‘Rome’s not going to destroy itself,’ Thumper would add, but he was there to help.

  I could see that Cynbel liked him, and the feeling was mutual. In fact, I doubted that there was a man alive – outside of Greece at least – that Thumper held a grudge towards. Even the Emperor Augustus was welcome by his fire.

  ‘Why wouldn’t I want to meet him?’ Thumper answered Cynbel as we descended another ridge. ‘The things he’s seen? He is Julius Caesar’s nephew, is he not?’

  ‘He is,’ the Briton nodded. I knew from our lessons that Julius Caesar had taken his army to the shores of the place that Cynbel called home.

  ‘He’s got a hard job, the emperor,’ Thumper said with some sympathy. ‘Can’t please everyone, can he?’

  ‘He has to please those at the centre of his empire first, and to do that means imposing on those at its limits. In order to placate them in turn, the borders need to be pushed further out, and then again, and again. Those in the centre demand more, and those on the outside pay the price.’

  ‘That would be us then.’ Thumper laughed. ‘It’s asking too much to be allowed to live in peace, isn’t it? Such is life, though. There’s never been a time without war, and there never will be.’

  ‘Not while men are men,’ Cynbel agreed.

  ‘What else could they be?’

  Cynbel shrugged. ‘Dead men.’

  Thumper laughed at that. ‘Yes, they don’t make so much trouble, no doubt about that. Ha! Here, look at this.’

  A jutting escarpment had caused a break between the trees, offering a view to a distant horizon. I saw green plains, and beyond them, the grey spectre of mountains.

  ‘The Sava Valley,’ Thumper declared. ‘Good farming land, when there’s not a war on.’