Atius ordered a rest stop at around noon. There had been a break in the weather, and the sun was out, albeit distant, low on the horizon and cool. They set their packs down and took out water flasks and hard biscuits. Nobody spoke, nor even caught each other’s eyes.
They had scouted the area surrounding their camp the previous night, but had found no one. In the morning light, before they had set off for the day, Aldric had pointed out human tracks in the snow. They had clearly stopped a short distance from the camp, hidden at the edge of the clearing, and it would have taken a decent spear throw from that distance to where they had found Toutorix’s body. Atius doubted it was some local villager who had just happened across them. The kill was too accurate, and too bold. What local villager would want to risk the wrath of a well-armed band of travellers who were just passing through, anyway?
But who the killer was, he couldn’t surmise. They had left Raetia the previous week, and none of the men had been told where they were going. Only he and Eustachys had known. Aldric had been questioned about his knowledge of the general area they were headed to, but it was only after they had left Roman territory that he was informed of the precise destination.
So how could a skilled enemy have tracked them in this forest, in this weather? It must have just been bad luck. A German tribesman, a young warrior out to make a name. He was probably even now being congratulated by his elders, while the women of his tribe fawned over him, and offered him their bodies. Fucking barbarians.
They had buried Toutorix as best they could. The icy ground was impossible to break, so they had covered him in branches and leaf litter and let the snow finish the job. Atius had said a few words of Christian prayer. The others had stood respectfully as he spoke the words, but only, he suspected, because he was their leader. None of them were followers of the Christos. And he was sure he had seen Scaurus, ever the traditionalist, slip a coin into Toutorix’s mouth for the journey across the Styx. What Toutorix himself believed, he didn’t know. The Roman pantheon? The Gallic gods?
To be honest, he wasn’t sure it mattered. He had been forced to confront his faith in Alexandria, and he still didn’t know if it had been strengthened or shattered completely. When one such as Origen, who inspired so deeply, had turned out to be just a fallible man, where did that leave faith?
He had more or less decided to ignore the problem, and just carry on as before. A faithful follower of Christos, but without the rules and restrictions applying to him personally. But when he was presented with a sudden death, unexpected, the old doubts came back.
He tapped Aldric on the knee.
‘How far have we come today?’
Aldric bit his lip and looked upwards. ‘Five miles. About.’
Atius tutted. It was slow progress. The best part of a week since they set out from Colonia. He thought they were making around ten miles a day, heading mainly east and a little north, deep into the territory of the Chatti.
‘How much further to our destination?’
Aldric looked up and to the right, thinking for a moment.
‘At this pace, still six or seven days.’
Atius looked around him at the men, not exhausted, but clearly fatigued from the half day’s march. He could up the pace, but it would not be sustainable. There would be injuries, from falls to foot sores, and their defensive abilities would be degraded. His mother had told him Aesop’s fable of the tortoise and the hare when he was a child, and though he had rarely put its moral into action, now was a good time to apply it. Slow and steady wins the race.
‘Finish up, lads. We’re moving again soon.’
His announcement was greeted by muted grumbles, but none spoke out loud. For all their rough edges, these men, who Oclatinius and Atius had picked from the ranks of the frumentarii and speculatores, were disciplined, and he hadn’t yet had cause to regret his decision. Which made it all the more surprising that Toutorix, an experienced speculator, had been taken unawares like that.
Atius swallowed the last chunk of hard biscuit, chased it down with some cold water, stoppered his flask, and got to his feet. Most of the others rose at the same, time, though Scaurus needed a kick to get moving. Aldric led the way once more, Atius close behind.
Soon after the small band of soldiers had moved on, two German warriors stopped at the site of their rest break. They were wrapped in long, thick sheepskin cloaks, and carried spears as tall as they were. One stopped, and examined the indents in the snow. He spoke to the other in a deep, guttural language. The other nodded, and gestured at the footprints in the snow. Together, they continued to follow the trail left by Atius and his men.
Oclatinius sucked air in through his teeth, and considered the question.
‘The truth is, Silus, I don’t know.’
‘I don’t know’ was a phrase that Silus couldn’t recall ever hearing from Oclatinius before. He frowned, but waited for the old man to continue.
‘It was only by chance that we found out the mission had run into trouble. A band of Chatti warriors had been raiding near the border of Germania Inferior, stealing cattle and burning villages, the usual thing. So a century was sent out on a punitive mission. Of course, most had fled, but a small group were found drunk in the remains of a burnt-out, pillaged settlement, and brought back to Colonia for questioning and enslavement.’
Silus couldn’t imagine their questioning was pleasant, although the worst excesses of torture might have been foregone, purely to preserve the captives’ financial value. German slaves were prized for their physical prowess, although if captured as adults they could be hard to tame.
‘One of them was in possession of a Roman gladius. A new one, not some antique they had found on an old battlefield. That led to some more focused questioning, and the barbarian eventually told us all he knew.
‘Which it turns out was precious little. Still, he knew that a party of Roman soldiers deep in Chatti territory had been ambushed, and that at least two had survived. He had seen them himself at a temporary encampment in Chatti territory. Trussed up like hogs, he said.’
Silus pursed his lips. ‘How much territory do the Chatti occupy?’
‘How long is a piece of rope? Their boundaries shift all the time, as they migrate, hunt, fight. They have some permanent settlements, but no permanent borders. Still, we know the Chatti occupy a substantial part of Germania Magna, beyond the frontier, bordering with the Alamanni to the south and the Cherusci to the north-east, along with some small tribes like the Tencteri, Usipetes and Bructeri.’
Silus nodded, but the names meant little to him. He was aware that the situation east of the Roman frontier in Germania was similar to the one he was used to on the northern frontier of Britannia – a hotchpotch of tribes, feuding with each other, occasionally uniting in confederations to fight the Roman enemy, before turning on themselves once more. He had never been interested in the detail, however. Germania had always seemed a very distant, dangerous, and ultimately irrelevant land to him. Now, suddenly, he was travelling there, and he felt completely uninformed and unprepared.
‘So how am I supposed to find him in all that space, in enemy territory?’
‘If it was easy, I would have sent some Praetorians. Why do you think I came all the way down to Lipari to fetch you personally?’
Silus felt a little glow of pride at this, even while he knew he was being manipulated. It was true though, he had proven his worth time and again. And there would be no one more motivated to find his best friend. Still, the task seemed almost impossible.
‘So you don’t know how they were caught. You just know that Atius and someone else in his party survived.’
‘Well…’ said Oclatinius, hands clasped, twiddling his thumbs.
‘What?’ said Silus, his voice low and ominous. ‘Tell me.’
‘Well, we know two of Atius’ party were alive, at least at the time this German saw them. We just don’t know which two.’
‘What!’ Silus exploded to his feet. ‘You don’t even know if Atius is alive?’
‘Calm yourself, Silus.’
‘Calm myself? You drag me away from Lipari, from Tituria, with some tale about Atius being captured, and now you can’t even tell me if he lives?’
‘You knew that would be the case. Even if I had accurate information that he was captured alive, it could be weeks out of date, and there would be no guarantees about his well-being.’
‘But…’
‘Besides, are you telling me that even if he was dead, you wouldn’t do everything in your power to avenge your friend?’
‘I…’ Silus’ shoulders slumped, and he sat down heavily. ‘What was he doing in Germania anyway? He isn’t a scout.’
‘It’s secret.’
Silus felt the anger rise within him again. ‘Are you kidding me? Don’t you think I need to know?’
‘Actually,’ said Oclatinius, and now his voice was iron and ice, ‘no, you don’t need to know. In fact, knowing too much is the real problem here.’
Silus balled his fists, clenched and unclenched his jaw. When he trusted himself to speak, he said, ‘Tell me what you can.’
Oclatinius too seemed to need a moment to compose himself. Every so often, Silus got a glimpse of something, a little thing that made him realise the old man was not made of stone. But it was rare.
‘He wasn’t even supposed to be on the mission. The idiot speculator who was supposed to lead it broke his leg. We needed someone reliable and experienced, and you weren’t available.’
Silus wondered if Oclatinius was trying to make him feel guilty, that he wasn’t by Atius’ side, that he hadn’t been there to save him. There was no need. He was already beating himself up for that.
‘Is there anything you can tell me about the mission?’
‘A little. Atius and his men had to escort one of Festus’ men, a Greek called Eustachys.’
‘Festus?’ asked Silus suspiciously.
‘Festus is the Commander of the Sacred Bedchamber, and is closely involved with intelligence gathering. Mainly within the Empire’s frontiers, it must be said. But this fell within his remit. His man Eustachys was to travel to meet a Chatti noble, to discuss various matters with him.’
‘What sort of matters?’
‘Confidential ones,’ said Oclatinius firmly. ‘But there lies part of the problem. If Eustachys is one of the captured men, he may reveal the detail of the Emperor’s military plans.’
‘You sent someone into enemy territory who had the Emperor’s plans in his head?’ Silus gasped in disbelief.
‘Festus did, not I,’ corrected Oclatinius. ‘And he is profoundly sorry. But it was necessary, for reasons I can’t discuss, that Festus’ representative knew the Emperor’s intentions.’
‘And what has Caracalla made of this development?’
‘The Emperor doesn’t know.’
Silus raised his eyebrows. ‘Don’t you think he might be displeased to find out?’
‘About as displeased to know that his top-secret plans may have fallen into the hands of the enemy.’
‘But isn’t it Festus’ fault? Surely you can just blame him? Aren’t you taking a risk by protecting that man?’
Oclatinius shrugged.
‘It’s not like you to take unnecessary risks,’ said Silus. ‘What has Festus got on you?’
Oclatinius’ face turned instantly to thunder and he seemed to grow and swell, to loom over Silus like a giant storm cloud.
‘You dare to suggest I am being held to blackmail? I, Oclatinius, leader of the Arcani? What do you think would happen to someone who attempted to blackmail me?’
Silus shrank back from the sudden storm.
‘I’m sorry, sir, it’s just – I was surprised.’
Oclatinius let the storm dissipate.
‘Festus and I go back a very long way. Ask about it no more.’
Silus nodded and waited for Oclatinius to continue, but the old man had become introspective. When the silence lengthened, Silus prompted him. ‘So Atius went into Germania Magna, with this Eustachys fellow and a small team of soldiers, on an unspecified diplomatic mission, and two of his team, which may or may not include Atius, have been captured, while the rest are… what? Dead?’
Oclatinius nodded. ‘No one from the mission has returned to Roman territory, so yes, it must be presumed that the rest are dead.’
‘And my task will be to find the survivors, rescue them, and escort them back to safety?’
Oclatinius hesitated. ‘That would be the most desirable outcome, yes.’
Silus felt his guts clench.
‘The most desirable outcome?’
‘Don’t be stupid, Silus. I have just explained to you the importance of the information Eustachys carries. If he has been captured, and it is not possible to rescue him, then he must be killed.’
A sour taste rose up into the back of Silus’ throat. More killing.
‘What if he has already told them what he knows?’
‘There is nothing we can do about that. But Eustachys was picked for a reason. He is tough, and could hold out for some time. If his captors were truly ignorant of his mission, then they would have no reason to torture him for the information. But all men break eventually. The longer he is in captivity, assuming he has been taken, the greater the risk he will tell them everything. And we have to work on the assumption it is Eustachys in captivity, because the stakes are so high if that is the case.’
Silus nodded. Then a thought struck him.
‘And Atius?’
Oclatinius looked shamefaced, but he kept his eyes on Silus. ‘We have to consider the possibility that during the mission, Eustachys confided in Atius the secret intelligence. Therefore, if Atius has been captured, the same applies to him.’
‘What?’ Silus’ voice came out in a roar, and it was his turn to show fury. ‘You got me on this ship on the understanding that I would be rescuing, or at least avenging, Atius. Now you tell me I might have to kill him?’
Oclatinius took the anger like a boxer taking punches to the head and not retreating a step.
‘As I said, it would be best if you rescued him.’
‘But if I can’t be his rescuer, I must be his executioner. Atius is my best friend. You only persuaded me to accept this mission because I thought I’d have the best chance of saving him. I refuse to kill him.’
Oclatinius sighed. ‘Silus, don’t make me be firm with you.’
‘Firm?’
‘You think you have nothing to lose, but in your heart you know that isn’t true.’
Silus frowned, not following him.
Oclatinius looked sternwards, in the direction the boat had come from. Towards the island of Lipari. Silus turned to follow his gaze, and a coldness gripped his heart, made it suddenly hard to breathe.
‘If you touch her…’ Silus said, his voice little more than a whisper.
Oclatinius took a sip from his drink, regarding Silus steadily. Then he stood, and walked to the prow, where he held the rail and watched the waves.
‘This mission had better be worth it,’ said Atius to Eustachys. They were walking a short distance behind Aldric, who was making a good pace. They were out of the forest for the time being, walking across scrubby hills populated almost entirely by sheep who snuffled through the snow to get to the sparse grass beneath. They gave the odd farmstead they encountered a wide berth. They had no need to raid them for supplies, not yet at least, although Atius was worried if they had many more snowy forests to pass through, their rations would not last until they got back to friendly territory. Further, if they used the farmhouse or outbuildings for shelter, they would have to kill the inhabitants for fear of their raising the alarm about the armed band of foreign soldiers in their land. That didn’t sit comfortably with Atius, not to mention it was a risk if any of the farmers escaped.
So they had sheltered for the previous night in their tents, in a small copse, and shivered through the dark hours. It hadn’t been a popular decision. Scaurus had been particularly vocal, complaining that the lives of a few barbarians weren’t worth them having to endure this cold. Atius had let him grumble. He knew which battles were worth fighting.
Being in the open was a double-edged sword. They could see a long distance, and none of them had noticed any signs of movement in the distance, any indication they were being followed. But equally, they could be seen from a long distance away. And it was not snowing now, so the tracks they left would be visible for much longer. He sighed. There was nothing he could do about it.
Eustachys had seemed to consider the statement for some time.
‘What would make it worth it?’
Atius turned to look at him in surprise.
‘What do you mean?’
‘How can I answer your question, unless I know what you value?’
‘Well…’ Atius thought about it, then decided it was too deep, and flippancy was in order. ‘I like beer. And women.’
Eustachys nodded, as if taking his answer seriously. ‘In that case, this mission is worthless.’
Atius looked at his grave face for a moment, searching his eyes. Then he burst out laughing, and clapped him on the back. Eustachys’ face too split in the smile he had been holding back. It was the first time Atius had seen Festus’ man display a sense of humour, and it was the first time he had felt any real warmth towards him. Until now, this job had just felt like babysitting a particularly miserable child.
When Atius had finished laughing, Eustachys said, ‘But in all seriousness. Do you love your Emperor? Do you love the Empire?’
Atius was instantly on his guard, his jovial mood evaporated in an instant.
‘It’s not a loyalty test, Atius. I may be a spy, but I’m not a delator. I have no interest in trapping or denouncing people.’
Atius relaxed, though not fully.
‘Love is a strong word,’ he said. It was a word he genuinely avoided, if he was honest with himself. Especially where women were concerned. ‘I honour and respect them. And yes, they have my loyalty. I was born a free Roman citizen, and I am proud of that.’
‘So what do you want for the Empire? Why do you fight for it?’
Atius frowned. He wondered if his answer would be different if he was in a tavern in Rome, rather than out here in foreign territory with his life in danger. Still, he tried to answer honestly.
‘I want to increase the glory of the Empire. I want to keep its people safe.’
‘Safe from what?’
‘Threats from outside its borders. Barbarians.’
‘Then yes.’
‘Yes what?’
‘Yes, this mission is worth it.’
Atius nodded.
‘And can you tell me any more than that?’
Eustachys shook his head. ‘There is no need for you to know.’
Atius didn’t reply. He knew that Eustachys was right, but it irked him to be out of the loop. Still, he had a job to do, and he had been reassured it was important. Important enough to lose men for? To die for? He just had to hope it was.
‘How much further?’ yelled Scaurus from a few feet behind them, then belatedly added, ‘sir.’
The sun, breaking through scattered cloud from time to time, was dipping in the sky, but had some way to go before it hit the horizon.
‘We’re making good time,’ Atius yelled back. ‘We will march for a few hours yet. The more ground we cover, the less time we spend in hostile country.’
‘Isn’t it time for a break then? Sir.’
Atius called to Aldric to join him.
‘How many more miles can we cover before sun down?’ he asked.
Aldric squinted at the terrain ahead. ‘Maybe another six or eight?’
Atius looked back at the men. They were tired, but could go on.
‘We march until dusk.’
He ignored the groans from behind him.
When Atius gave the order to halt to look for somewhere to make camp for the night, he was sure he heard Scaurus mutter something like, ‘thank fuck for that’. He ignored it. If Scaurus had wanted to make a point, he would have spoken louder.
Drustan pointed to a wooden structure half a mile away, in a small valley beside a stream. It looked like a barn or byre, but the roof had collapsed. There was no sign of habitation in the vicinity, and there were no recent human tracks in the snow. Atius looked around him. There was no other decent cover nearby, from the elements or from spying eyes, so he nodded.
‘We will shelter in that barn.’
They approached it cautiously. Scaurus crept up to the door. Atius was at his shoulder, sword drawn. At Atius’ signal, Scaurus kicked the door in, and stood aside as Atius charged through.
The broken roof let in enough early evening light for Atius to see the barn was not in current use, but he still had to squint into the shadows and wait for his eyes to adjust before he was sure it was completely unoccupied.
He beckoned Scaurus in, and with the tough soldier at his back, he investigated every possible hiding place – behind a broken gate that was leant against the wall, behind a low wooden partition, thrusting his gladius into a pile of mouldering hay to make sure no threat lay within.
Snow had drifted into some corners, but the mud floor was dry in other places. There was an odour of old cow dung and musty rat droppings, but the walls, though draughty, kept the worst of the wind out. He called the others in, and they set about pitching tents in the drier parts of the barn, clearing away the debris of its previous occupants, human and animal, to make room.
‘Shall I make a fire, sir?’ asked Drustan.
‘In this luxurious accommodation?’ asked Atius in mock incredulity. ‘You will be asking for underfloor heating next. No, we don’t need a fire for warmth, so we will eat cold food and hard biscuit tonight.’
Scaurus muttered a curse, and Atius whirled on him.
‘Or would you send a signal to every angry German warrior nearby that we are here, and end up with a spear through you like Toutorix?’
Scaurus had the sense to look abashed, and he set to putting up his tent without further comment. The others pitched their own leather tents, by necessity packed closer together than was regulation, though Atius was never a stickler for rules. Atius kept watch at the door until they were done, then summoned the men round him.
‘Listen, I know this is tough. We lost a man, and we don’t know who did it or why. The conditions are shit. And none of us know why we are here. Apart from Eustachys of course.
‘But we are doing a job, for Rome, for the Emperor, for the Empire. A job we are paid to do. Eustachys has assured me this mission is of great importance for the safety of Rome against the barbarian threats.’
‘Typical Roman army,’ said Scaurus. ‘Treating us like mushrooms.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Drustan, and Atius groaned, knowing where this was going.
‘Keep us in the dark and throw shit at us, don’t they?’
‘That’s enough, Scaurus,’ said Atius. ‘We don’t need your crap. Now let’s all concentrate on getting the mission done, swiftly and safely. We have lost one man, and I will have to write to his mother to break the news. I don’t want to lose any more. Let’s look after each other, and let’s stop complaining. It isn’t helping. When we get back to Colonia you can complain till your arse falls off, but not before. Do you understand me?’
Scaurus nodded sourly, pinching his lips closed with his fingers.
‘We will keep watch in pairs tonight. It means we all get less sleep, but it also means we are more likely to wake up again. Aldric and I will take the first watch. Does anyone have any questions?’
They all shook their heads or stared at the ground sullenly.
‘Aldric, with me.’
The guide got stiffly to his feet, and followed Atius out of the door. Atius loosened his sword in its sheath to make sure he could draw it swiftly if needed, then began a patrol. Night had fallen, and Atius had to pick his way across the rough ground carefully. A seemingly level covering of snow could conceal an ankle-breaking rabbit hole.
Aldric walked beside him, similarly picking his steps with care. Atius halted them frequently to stop, look around, listen. Their path traced a small circle around the crumbling barn, then a larger one, ever increasing in circumference. Aldric said nothing as they walked, sullen and taciturn as usual. Atius quickly became bored and determined to draw Aldric out of himself.
‘Remind me, which is your tribe?’
Aldric gave him a measured look, as if trying to decide whether it was worth his while to reply. Then he let out a sigh.
‘The Brukterer. You call them the Bructeri.’
Atius had been told that when Aldric had been assigned them as a guide, but he had had too many other things to think about at the time, preparing for the mission, to give it more consideration.
‘Tell me about your tribe.’
Aldric said nothing for long enough that Atius thought he wasn’t going to get an answer. When Atius had almost given up, Aldric spoke.
‘You Romans think we Germanic people are all the same. But we are as different as Romans and Greeks and Egyptians. There are dozens of big tribes and countless small ones in the region you call Germania Magna.’
‘What do you call it?’
‘We call it home. We don’t have borders, we don’t have cities. We have settlements and farmsteads. We move when we need to. We stay if we want to. We fight each other. We make alliances with and against each other. Some of us are artists, some of us make music, some of us are warriors. But one thing we all have in common. We do not live under the Roman heel.’
Atius looked sidelong at him. ‘You don’t seem to have much love for the Empire.’
Aldric shut his mouth tight, and said nothing.
‘Not every man in the provinces loves the Empire,’ said Atius after a while. ‘Even now that they are all citizens. But they still pay their taxes, join the legions and auxiliaries. You don’t have to be a fanatic like Scaurus to serve.’
Still Aldric held his tongue.
‘So why are you helping us? Guiding us through your territory in aid of Rome?’
‘I swore an oath to my chief. And he made me swear one to Rome.’
Aldric stopped abruptly, hand up. Atius froze, gripping the hilt of his sword. Aldric listened intently, then said, ‘Nothing. A deer.’
Atius considered himself a pretty good scout, maybe not in Silus’ league, but no amateur. Yet he had heard nothing. Aldric must have tremendously sensitive hearing. The guide dropped his hand and they continued.
‘Your chief?’ prompted Atius.
‘Colonia was built on Bructeri territory,’ said Aldric. ‘And the frontier of the Roman province runs through our land. Our chief wants peace with your Empire.’
‘Why?’ asked Atius. ‘If your people have lost territory, why doesn’t he fight to get it back?’
Aldric let out a short exhalation that might have been a humourless laugh.
‘Because he fears death.’
Atius glanced at him.
‘I knew a man once, a legionary, tough guy. A veteran. He was afraid of moths. And butterflies. Anything that flapped its wings. He could hold the line in a battle against a Caledonian charge and keep bowels shut and the inside of his legs dry. He would barely break a sweat as he stabbed and parried all day. Yet if a moth got trapped in the tent with him, he screamed so loud you would think he was being impaled in a druidic sacrifice.’
Aldric grunted, the merest acknowledgement that Atius was even speaking.
‘That,’ continued Atius, ‘is a dumb fear. The fear of death? I think that’s quite reasonable.’
‘For a Roman, maybe,’ said Aldric.
‘For anyone with sense.’
‘I do not fear death,’ said Aldric firmly.
‘That’s what worries me,’ said Atius.
They walked in uncomfortable silence for a while, Atius keeping half his mind on his guard duty, and half on the barbarian under his command. But silence was an unnatural state for the garrulous Atius.
‘You hate your chief?’
‘Of course not,’ snapped Aldric back quickly. ‘He is my leader, and he has my complete loyalty. Maybe I would wish he was otherwise. That he had more iron in his backbone, more fire in guts. But what is the point of wishing for that? It is like wishing for different parents.’
Atius nodded. He didn’t like the idea of a discontented German in their ranks, when they were in enemy territory. He decided he had pressed enough and changed the subject.
‘How many more days’ travel now, would you say?’
‘Maybe three or four. If the weather holds.’
‘And will it?’
Aldric shrugged. ‘Pray to your Christos it does.’
They patrolled for another hour, then Atius led them back to the barn. He woke Drustan up easily, but Scaurus was snoring loudly, so he reached over and shook his shoulder. The legionary’s eyes shot open and he grabbed Atius around the throat. Drustan and Aldric grabbed Scaurus’ arms and prised them apart. They held him until he stopped his wild struggling.
Breathing heavily, he looked around him in confusion. When his eyes came back to Atius, who was clutching his throat with one hand and wearing a furious expression, his eyes widened.
‘Sorry, sir,’ he said.
Atius glared at him, then coughed and spat a wad of phlegm.
‘Scaurus, get out of my sight. Drustan and Eustachys will be on next watch.’
‘Eustachys?’ complained Drustan, looking askance at the diplomat.
‘Me?’ exclaimed Eustachys, just as concerned.
‘Yes,’ said Atius. ‘With the watch doubled and Toutorix gone, everyone has to pull their weight. Does anyone have a problem with that?’
Silence.
Atius rubbed his throat.
‘Wake me before dawn. I’ll take the last watch of the night.’