Masters of Rome (24 page)

Vespasian looked at his tormentor, wondering if this was some trick, and then a scorching heat raged up his body. The glowing iron seared through the skin and into the muscle of his thigh and he convulsed in unimagined pain.

‘Well?' Alienus roared in his ear. ‘What did you have for breakfast?' He pulled the iron away from the charred flesh, smoke rising from the burn, and repeated his question in a pleasant, friendly tone: ‘What did you have for breakfast on the morning you sailed?'

Vespasian hyperventilated as he tried to work out whether he had heard correctly; another repetition of the question convinced him that he had. With a hiss, the pain hit again. ‘Lentils,' he muttered through gritted teeth.

Alienus smiled with regret. ‘Lentils? Oh legate, you disappoint me; I would have thought that a man of your rank and
dignitas
would have held onto such vital information for much longer. I can see that I'm going to have to ask some tougher questions.'

‘Spare me the little games, Alienus; burn me if you want but don't try and pretend that it's anything other than revenge for the humiliation that you must still feel because I made you talk.'

‘You gave me no choice!' Alienus' jaw clenched and his mouth set firm and he drew the iron slowly down the inside of Vespasian's thigh.

This time Vespasian resisted the pain as his mind raced and he realised that he had unwittingly hit the mark; he squinted up through watering eyes at the spy. ‘It was you who told me where Sabinus was, remember?'

The iron stopped and Alienus pressed it hard against the soft flesh.

‘Does Myrddin know?' Vespasian roared, converting the scream that welled up within him into words. ‘Does he know that because of you Sabinus was found and released?'

Alienus thrust his iron back into the fire. ‘And what's that to do with you?'

Vespasian took a shuddering breath through his nose as the pain subsided; the stink of his burnt flesh clung to the inside of his nostrils. He closed his eyes. ‘It's nothing to me. But if Myrddin found out that he lost the chance to sacrifice a legate because you told me where to find him in exchange for your life I can't imagine that he would be that pleased. And if you kill me to prevent me from telling him, then that'll be another legate that you've deprived his altars of.'

Alienus' fist crashed into Vespasian's jaw, lashing his head to one side.

Vespasian tasted blood in his mouth; he turned his head back and gave a low, mirthless chuckle. ‘Tricky, isn't it? Even for a mind like yours.'

Alienus grabbed the iron and thrust it towards Vespasian's bleeding mouth. ‘I'll burn your tongue out and then enjoy the sight of you trying to tell your nasty little tale to Myrddin.'

‘I don't think that you will, Alienus, because you would also have to do the same to Cogidubnus, and Myrddin wouldn't like that. He knows that Cogidubnus killed the druids in the Vale of Sullis and he will want the King who has defied him in one piece as he will want me in one piece; what use are we as sacrifices if we're missing bits?' The glowing tip wavered; there was uncertainty in Alienus' eyes. ‘You don't have the authority to do anything to us before Myrddin gets his hands on us and you know it, don't you?'

‘I should kill you now!'

‘I know you should but you can't, you can't even hurt me too badly. I realised that when you just confined your attentions to my thighs. But I can hurt you before I die and I will; Myrddin will know that you betrayed him and he'll want his revenge. And as you pointed out, Myrddin always gets what he wants.'

Alienus' eyes narrowed as hatred exuded from them; he pressed the glowing iron hard down onto Vespasian's shoulder and smoke spiralled up from the cauterising flesh.

Vespasian clenched his teeth and managed to growl, ‘I'd run if I were you. Start looking for a place where you'll be safe from Myrddin's wrath because that will be my dying gift to you.'

Alienus pressed harder; Vespasian rode the pain and forced a hard-eyed smile. ‘Where will you be safe from both Rome and the druids?'

Alienus threw his iron to the ground and shouted in his own tongue at the men restraining Vespasian before barging his way out of the hut.

Vespasian was lifted from the table and thrown feet first back down into the pit to land with a spine-jarring thump.

Cogidubnus rolled him over and began untying his hands as the grille was replaced. ‘You were absolutely right: how did you work that out?'

‘When he pretended to be so disappointed with me for telling him so easily what I had for breakfast.' Vespasian pulled his hands free, spat on them and then placed them gently on the burns on his thigh; he breathed deeply, forcing the pain down. ‘I realised that what I had told him was irrelevant compared to the information that he had given us.'

Cogidubnus started to work on the leather thong binding his ankles. ‘And you guessed that was something that he wouldn't have boasted about.'

‘Yes, I imagine that he's never even told anybody that he'd been captured and then escaped.'

A scream from not far off cut through the air, followed by a second and then scores of voices were raised in cries and shouts.

‘It sounds like our friend has just left the settlement,' Vespasian observed, pulling his feet apart and gritting his teeth at the movement, ‘and I don't think his hosts were too keen on him leaving so suddenly.'

Cogidubnus lifted his head and listened for a moment; the noise escalated. ‘That's not the sound of one man escaping; they're shouting “fire”. Someone's torching the settlement.'

‘Our men?'

‘Who cares?'

Vespasian felt a surge of hope and the pain in his wounds was pushed aside as the shouting increased and he looked up to see the guards rush off; the first log was in place but the second had only been rolled to the edge of the grille. The tell-tale glow of burning
seeped through cracks between the walls and the thatched roof. ‘Now's our chance; let me get onto your shoulders.'

Cogidubnus squatted and Vespasian swung a leg around his neck; with a grunt the King strained upright and Vespasian grasped the edge of the grille and pushed up. It shifted slightly; he increased the pressure, ignoring the sharp pain from the burn on the inside of his thigh rubbing against Cogidubnus' unshaven chin. The grille rose up a couple more inches and the single log across it rolled a hand's breadth; with another mighty effort Vespasian forced his arms up and the log rolled away, leaving the grille free as the sound of fire-fighting grew more intense. He pushed it aside and scrambled out of the pit; after a quick search of the floor he found the rope and threw one end down. Cogidubnus scaled it quickly and then coiled it and slung it over his shoulder; they moved towards the door and pulled it open a fraction. A handful of warriors hurtled past in the narrow lane outside, all heading in one direction.

Vespasian closed the door. ‘We need to get out and then find a way to talk to Judoc.'

‘You can't go anywhere like that,' Cogidubnus stated, looking at him.

Vespasian looked about for his tunic and found it, along with his belt and sword, under the table, ripped beyond use; his cloak, however, was still attached to the two spears that had made up the makeshift stretcher. With his sword he cut two armholes in it and flung it around his shoulders securing it at the neck, tied on his discarded loincloth and then fastened his belt about his waist. ‘This'll have to do.' He threw one of the spears to Cogidubnus and then kicked over the brazier against the wall; the glowing charcoal scattered along it causing the animal skins to smoulder. ‘The more distractions the Cornovii have the better in the circumstances, I think.'

‘Agreed; pass me that tunic.'

Vespasian chucked the ruined garment over as the first hide ignited.

Cogidubnus held the tunic in the flames; as it too caught fire, he pulled the door ajar, and lobbed it, underarm, through the
narrow opening and onto the dry thatch of the hut opposite. Fresh air, sucked in through the gap, fed the fire climbing up the skins, filling the hut with smoke. Cogidubnus waited for a few moments for the fumes to thicken and then flung the door wide, releasing them to the outside. ‘Time to go!'

Vespasian followed the King out, unnoticed under the cover of the smoke belching from the doorway and the flames now raging across the lane. He raced after Cogidubnus, past other blazing, circular huts, surrounded by men trying to combat the flames with buckets of water, and then away from the conflagration into a maze of dark, narrow lanes. The burns on his thigh and shoulder smarted as the muscles worked beneath them and the blood pumping through his veins caused the swelling on his head to throb. The sound of the fire-fighting grew and the narrow lanes became congested with warriors anxious to join the effort. Cogidubnus stepped off to the left, ducking into what was no more than a drainage alley between two lines of huts, and moved along it as fast as the slimy, noisome surface would allow. Emerging from the other end, scattering some panicking chickens, they saw the palisade just thirty paces away; a dark shadow against the bluing sky. With a mutual look of agreement they headed towards it, passing only a few women rounding up errant children and hustling them into the relative safety of their huts. Behind the last abode they spotted a ladder leading up to the walkway, just less than a man's height from the top of the palisade. Within moments they had scaled it to look down in the direction whence the clamour came; and then another noise from a different direction attracted their attention.

‘Mars' arse!' Vespasian exclaimed. ‘It's not just the fire that has got the Cornovii excited. How did they get here so quickly?'

Fifty paces away, just visible in the weak dawn light, were the two and a half centuries of marines from the flotilla, approaching the open gateway. With an eight-man-wide frontage and protected by a roof and wall of shields, they stamped forward with blades flicking out between their shields, towards a mass of warriors forming up at the gates.

Vespasian slammed his fist against the palisade. ‘The idiots! Who's the fool leading them? If they get in they'll be surrounded and hacked to death. We've got to stop this.'

Cogidubnus unslung the rope and tied it to the top of the palisade. ‘It's not long enough but there shouldn't be more than a six- to eight-foot drop to the bottom of the ditch. Watch out for the stakes.' He clambered up and over and let himself down; the noise was intensifying as the marines made contact. A mile or so beyond them, a solid shadow in the gloom, the rock of Tagell projected into the sea.

Vespasian glanced over his shoulder – the fire was growing, fanned by a strong breeze coming off the sea – before following Cogidubnus down. The rope reached to just above where the wooden poles of the palisade were buried in the banked earth dug from the surrounding ditch. He let go and slid down the steep bank; Cogidubnus grabbed him as he hit the bottom, preventing him from toppling backwards. Without a word they made their way through the stakes and clambered up the other side and then down into the second of the two ditches that comprised the settlement's earthworks. Keeping low as visibility grew with the light they scuttled along until they were within ten paces of the rear of the Roman formation. Slingshot ricocheted off the marines' javelin-studded shields as they advanced steadily towards the gate.

Grasping a sapling growing at the top of the bank, Vespasian hauled himself out of the ditch; Cogidubnus made to follow but the young tree's roots were not strong enough and he fell back. Vespasian lay down and held out his arm; the King grabbed it as a javelin slammed into the bank next to him; slingshot followed.

‘Get away!' Cogidubnus yelled, throwing himself to the far side of the ditch out of sight of the warriors on the palisade. ‘I'll make my own way up.'

Feeling a stone fizz past his head, Vespasian scrambled to his feet and sprinted to the rear of the marines' formation and barged into the middle of the back rank.

‘Let me through! Let me through!' he ordered, pushing his way into the second and then third ranks. The startled marines
parted just enough for him to squeeze forward without compromising the roof of shields over their heads.

‘Stand by to fall back!'

On he drove, up through the heart of the enclosed formation, repeating the warning, raising his voice against the drumming of slingshot and the growing resonance of combat as he neared the front.

‘On my mark, fall back!' he yelled upon reaching the cornicen huddled just behind the forward ranks; the marine glanced at him and, recognising his commanding officer, set his lips to the mouthpiece.

‘Now!

The three descending notes of the signal rumbled out and the formation took a step back.

‘Keep a steady, slow beat,' Vespasian ordered.

The cornicen blew a single note and they retreated another pace followed by another in time to the instrument's call. Gradually they passed back through the gates, still under a sustained but ineffectual slingshot barrage and still in contact with the enemy on three sides in the forward ranks. But as the foremost rank passed onto the track leading away from the gates the precipitous drops to either side meant the only contact was to the front and the superior fighting technique of the legionaries of the sea began to tell. Fewer warriors were willing to throw themselves at the shield-wall bristling with blood-dripping blades, and by the time the marines had fallen back to the second ditch contact had been broken and Vespasian ordered an increase in pace to the jeers of the defenders.

‘Form line!' Vespasian ordered as they cleared the second ditch and arrived back on open ground.

Within moments the rear ranks had flooded forward, fanning out to either side to make a block four men deep and sixty across. The defenders pulled back to the gates and the slingshot ceased: stalemate.