Caracalla’s face was thunderous as he strode up and down his office. Oclatinius, Silus and Atius stood in a row, eyes front, backs straight, barely daring to breathe.
‘The fucking idiot! Playing at being emperor and just fucking everything up. We had won! We had victory! Now we have to do it all over again. Just because my cretinous half-brother and, for some bizarre reason, co-Augustus valued the life of one of his favourites more than the peace and security of the province and the whole fucking empire. What if, while we are pissing around in this gods-cursed country, the Parthians break the truce and attack in the east? What if the Germans invade Gaul? What if one of our loyal governors in Syria or Africa decides they would make a better Emperor, and take the opportunity, while my father is here at the arse-end of the world, to take their legions and march on Rome?’
None of the soldiers gave reply. Silus presumed the questions were all rhetorical, until Caracalla whirled and jabbed a finger at him. ‘Well?’
Silus’ bowels turned to water. ‘Well,’ he stuttered, ‘I think the loyalty of the Empire to the Augusti is solid as rock.’
‘Rock can be shattered with a pick aimed at the right weakness. You!’ Caracalla now pointed at Atius. ‘What if the east is invaded?’
‘I’m just a humble auxiliary,’ said Atius, and Silus breathed a sigh of relief that his friend hadn’t said anything stupid. But he had relaxed too soon.
‘But as you asked for my opinion,’ continued Atius, ‘I think in the event of a Parthian or German incursion, you would have to withdraw some of the legions from Caledonia, and march swiftly to meet the threat. If it was a major invasion, the presence of at least one of the Augusti in the expeditionary force would be required to reassure Rome and bolster the morale of the troops. The local forces would hopefully be able to hold for long enough for you to reinforce them. I would suggest taking the vexillations from the Rhine and Danube legions back with you, and since the legio VI Victrix has put down roots in Eboracum for so long, I would recommend that vexillations from this legion were left behind to form the basis of a garrison, together with a stripped down legio II Augusta and legio XX Valeria Victrix, maybe using the vallum Hadriani as the frontier since it is nearer the supply lines from the province. Your father seems unwell, so he could travel to Rome to secure your family’s position, while you lead the counter-invasion force, given you have already proven yourself as an able commander in the field. But I would suggest you leave your cretinous half-brother behind to sort out the logistics, since he got us into this mess in the first place.’
Caracalla stared at Atius open-mouthed while he delivered his monologue. Silus closed his eyes, waiting for the furious response. Then Caracalla burst out laughing and clapped Atius on the back so hard he staggered forward a step.
‘Oclatinius, where did you find this one?’
‘One of the local recruits to the auxiliaries, I believe, Augustus. Seems to have a good head on his shoulders, but a big cakehole in his face.’
‘And will these two do?’
‘I think they stand as much chance as anyone. A fine arcanus and a decent speculator. And they are both motivated. Maglorix killed Silus’ family, and slaughtered Atius’ comrades.’
Silus’ jaw clenched at the mention of his family, but he remained still.
‘Fine,’ said Caracalla. ‘I’ll trust your judgement. Soldiers, I don’t like this Maglorix. He is becoming a pebble in my boot, annoying me wherever I go. As Oclatinius says, neither of you have any love for him either. He has escaped punishment once. I want him dead.
‘It will take time to get the legions ready to march again. But when we do, there will be a slaughter such as the people of this land have never dreamed. Maglorix seems to be a rallying figure, and an instigator. No doubt he is a hero among the barbarians right now. I want him out of the way. If we have to fight him, so be it, but without him the resistance will be weaker, and many legionary and auxiliary lives will be saved. You two are going to go into enemy territory, locate Maglorix and kill him.
‘Understand, though, that this is not an official mission. My brother would no doubt come up with a reason to delay or prevent this, just to spite me, and father is not the risk taker he was in his younger days and might take his side. So, keep your heads down, and get it done.’
‘Yes, Augustus,’ said Atius. ‘I accept.’
Caracalla looked at him curiously. ‘Oclatinius, do you recall me asking for volunteers for this mission?’
‘I do not, Augustus.’
‘Soldiers, you have your orders. Dismissed.’
‘There is a big part of me hoping you idiots never come back,’ said Oclatinius, when he had them both in his office. ‘What were you trying to do to me back there?’
‘To you, sir?’ asked Atius innocently. ‘I was just answering the Augustus’ question.’
Oclatinius shook his head. ‘On another day you would have been thrown to the beasts in the arena for that sort of insolence. You are lucky his anger was directed elsewhere. Anyway, here we are. You have your mission. Atius, I am admitting you to the ranks of the Speculatores. But let me make one thing clear: Silus is in the Arcani. He is in charge. I don’t trust your reckless attitude. Is that clear?’
‘Yes, sir,’ they both said.
‘Fine. Get what kit you need from the quartermaster. Atius, say goodbye to your girl. Silus, say goodbye to your dog. Go out and get drunk, or go to bed early, whatever you want tonight. Tomorrow, you depart for Caledonia.’
Atius and Silus saluted and retreated hastily.
‘Fuck, mate,’ said Silus once they were out of earshot. ‘I don’t know about Oclatinius, but you nearly killed me in there!’
‘I don’t see what the fuss is all about,’ said Atius sulkily.
‘Forget it. So, are you going to spend the night with Menenia?’
‘The whole night?’ Atius looked shocked. ‘What would I do for a whole night?’
‘Maybe comfort her? She has been through a big trauma and lost her father.’
‘Well, I’ll certainly give her a bit of comfort. Then after that, let’s go out on the town.’
Silus grimaced, but he felt too keyed up to get an early night, so he nodded. ‘Meet me at the tavern with the Blue Boar sign two hours before midnight. We can drink to departed spirits.’
‘I’ll drink to whatever you tell me to, sir,’ said Atius with a wink.
‘Don’t start that crap with me. I’m no one’s sir.’
‘Whatever you say, sir.’
‘Piss off. Go and kit up, give your girlfriend a five minute fuck, then meet me for a drink.’
Silus visited the quartermaster to stock up on basic provisions for the journey, but in truth he needed little. His weapons – dagger, garrotte, short sword – were his own, and he would not be wearing armour on this sort of mission. The main supplies he needed were nutritional. He took some cheese and salted beef, and a new canteen. They would supplement their supplies in the field – foraging, hunting and stealing should be sufficient for their needs. Silus was keen to travel as lightly and as quickly as possible, both to track Maglorix down and to escape after they had finished him. He spent the rest of his day in the gymnasium and baths, performing some light exercise with weights, and relaxing in the tepidarium, alternating with visits to the frigidarium and caldarium. The coldness of the frigidarium took him back to freezing nights in the outdoors, both as a child and a soldier, and while his heart told him to enjoy the hotter rooms while he was able to, his head cautioned him to tolerate the cold as long as he could to help him acclimatise.
After a massage and oiling from a bathhouse slave, he went on to the Blue Boar. The tavern keeper recognised Silus instantly, and his eyes darted around to see if he was accompanied by Oclatinius. When he saw that Silus was alone, he greeted him suspiciously.
‘What do you want?’
The tavern was more than half full, and a few of the clientele looked up in surprise at the sound of their usually friendly tavern keeper greeting a customer so impolitely.
‘No trouble,’ said Silus. ‘Just food.’
The tavern keeper nodded grudgingly.
‘Nice new door by the way,’ said Silus. ‘Looks solid.’
The tavern keeper looked at him uncertainly, not sure if he was teasing him, but he apparently decided to take it as a compliment. ‘Good workmanship, that’s for sure. Should stop any more unexpected visitors.’
The other customers quickly lost interest and returned to drinking, laughing and games of dice and knucklebones.
Silus ordered lamb stew and ate slowly, blowing on the hot food before putting the spoon in his mouth. Though he tried to keep his mind clear, his thoughts oscillated between past and future, from loss to vengeance. His emotions followed his thoughts, swinging from grief to anger, from eyes welling with tears to clenched fists and clenched teeth. He decided he needed a drink and ordered a large beer.
He was on his second when Atius came in, a cheeky grin on his face. Silus marvelled at how the younger man was able to put aside the grief and fear that he had so recently experienced. But maybe he was simply able to push it down deeper than Silus. He grabbed a stool from a man who had just stood and announced he was going outside for a piss. His two friends protested that their comrade would be back, but Atius pretended not to hear and thumped the stool down at Silus’ table.
‘Looks good. What are you eating? I’m famished.’
‘Just stew. Not too tough though.’
Atius ordered the stew and a beer together with a small loaf of bread. The tavern keeper ladled it from one of the large containers at the bar counter into a bowl, and passed it over with a cup of beer.
Atius placed the meal on the table, then picked up the bread and broke it in half. He bowed his head, closed his eyes and said quietly, ‘This is my body broken for you. Do this in remembrance of me.’
Silus looked at him curiously. Atius noticed the odd look on Silus’ face, and just muttered, ‘Fuck off, Silus. You wouldn’t understand.’
Silus shrugged, and they ate and drank together. Silus asked, ‘How was Menenia?’
‘Fucking incredible,’ said Atius. ‘She was all over me. Didn’t want to stop.’
‘I meant, how was she in herself?’
‘Oh. Well, she did cry a bit afterwards.’
‘And you left her to it?’
‘Well, she was cuddling Issa. I think she’ll be fine.’
‘Atius, you’re an asshole.’
Atius looked offended, then noticed a young female slave carrying some jugs of beer over to another table, and he whistled.
‘Would you look at the tits on that. Fuck me, if I wasn’t already tapped out, I wouldn’t mind a go on that. What about you, Silus?’
Silus’ dagger glare made Atius shrink back.
‘Sorry, mate, I wasn’t thinking. Still too soon?’
‘It will be too soon for the rest of my life.’
Atius looked down into his beer, swirling it around the cup, the noise of the busy tavern covering an awkward silence.
The man who had gone for a piss returned and looked for his stool. Over Atius’ shoulder, Silus saw his friends pointing in their direction. The man was early middle-aged, bulky with a combination of muscle and fat, and long red hair. He walked up behind Atius. When he spoke, his accent was typical of the local Brigantes, and he spoke in the Brigantian dialect of common Brittonic.
‘Hey. Did you nick my chair?’
Atius didn’t even turn. He took a sip of his beer as if no one had spoken. Silus wasn’t sure whether Atius understood any of the words spoken in the Brittonic dialect of the Celtic language, but it was clear that the Brigantian was talking to him. Silus tensed, ready for trouble.
The Brigantian put a hand on Silus’ shoulder. ‘I said, did you—’
Atius grabbed the hand, rose, whirled and twisted at the same time, one hand pressing into the back of the Brigantian’s shoulder as he pivoted forwards. The man’s face slammed into the table with the crunch of breaking nose cartilage, and blood spurted from his nostrils.
Atius put his face close to the man’s ear, and whispered in Latin, ‘Don’t ever touch me again.’ Then he spun the man round and threw him to the floor. The Brigantian crashed into his three friends, who had only just got to their feet at the sight of their drinking partner being assaulted. They all fell backwards into their table – drinks, food and dice flying into the air.
Atius turned to face them as they all regained their feet. Silus groaned and stood up. His knife was at his belt, but he left it sheathed. Hopefully this could be sorted out without death, but it was nice to know it was there.
The others in the tavern either exited quickly or stepped back to make space for the two groups of men squaring up. One enterprising lad near the back said he would take bets on the two newcomers against the locals, and he had some immediate take-up.
The tavern keeper came hurrying over.
‘Please, not again,’ he said, interposing himself between Silus and Atius and the Brigantians. The broken-nosed man hurled him aside, then threw himself at Atius. Atius turned his body to absorb the momentum and with an extended thigh threw his attacker down. But the man hung on, taking Atius down with him, and straightaway the two were trading blows in the sticky straw of the tavern floor.
The other three Brigantians stepped forward to help their friend. Silus took a step forward, blocking their path. They turned to each other, and a look of agreement passed between them. Then, as one, they charged at Silus.
There wasn’t much space, and the three men got in each other’s way, breaking their momentum. Silus targeted the one to his left. Accepting the outstretched hands grasping towards him, he pulled and stepped further to his left. The man charged head first into a pillar and slumped to the floor unconscious.
Silus didn’t pause, but moved on the central attacker with a two-handed blow to the side of the head. When he rocked sideways into the right-hand attacker, Silus kicked out, the edge of his foot smashing into the side of the man’s knee, caving it inwards with an audible snapping sound. Even as he was falling, Silus was upon the last man standing, two punches to his midriff and one to his throat.
Once he had made sure none of the three was rising, he turned to watch Atius. His friend clearly needed no help. He was sitting astride the Brigantian, raining blows into him, knocking his head from side to side. After a few moments to let Atius work out the last of his fury, Silus stepped in, grabbed him under the shoulders and lifted him up. Atius rounded on Silus furiously, fist back to strike.
Then recognition came back into his face. He dropped his hands, looked around him at the carnage, then tipped his head back and laughed.
The young lad at the back collected his winnings from the begrudging gamblers, and the tavern keeper returned to berate Silus.
‘Look at the damage. The table is destroyed. My customers have fled.’
‘Only a couple of the more cowardly ones,’ said Atius. ‘I think the rest loved the entertainment. Didn’t you?’ The onlookers cheered.
‘Here’s the money for the table. And a drink for everyone here, on me. And a copper coin for a lad to fetch some slaves to clear away these deadbeats.’
More cheering, and soon the beer was flowing. The conscious and semi-conscious Brigantians were dragged away, and Atius and Silus mingled with the locals, other Brigantians, some Votadini and some retired auxiliary Batavians and Tungrians. For a brief while, Silus forgot about his grief and anger and desperate desire for revenge, and just drank and laughed.
It didn’t last. Later in the evening, Atius came over to him with a Brigantian girl under one arm and a Votadini girl under the other. Both were obviously about as drunk as Atius and were laughing and smiling coquettishly at him.
‘Mate,’ said Atius. ‘These two are well up for it. I sung your praises for your talents in the sack, so they agreed you could have your pick first. Which one do you prefer?’
Silus looked from the redheaded Brigantian to the blonde Votadini, and everything came crashing back down on him. His wife and daughter. His mission. Maglorix.
He leant forward and vomited loudly onto the floor.
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ said Atius. ‘Fine. Sorry girls. Another night. Mate, let’s get you home.’
Atius put a hand under Silus’ shoulder, helped him to his feet, and after blowing two kisses over his shoulder, he helped Silus out of the tavern.
The constant bounce in the saddle felt like some sort of torture. The muscles in Silus’ calves ached, his inner thighs were chafed raw, and the bones at the base of his pelvis felt like he had been bent over and repetitively kicked in the arse. The journey along a Roman road that led north from Eboracum to Segedunum at the eastern end of the vallum Hadrian should have taken four or five days at a normal pace on horseback, but by swapping horses at the auxiliary cavalry forts along the road and riding twelve hours a day, they had made the journey in just three days.
As they approached the south gate of the fort, Silus recognised one of the sentries, Suadurix, a Nervian from the lands of the Belgae. The VI Nervian cohort had previously manned Segedunum but were then subsequently transferred to one of the forts on the vallum Antonini. Segedundum was now garrisoned by the IV Lingonian cohort. However, personnel were often transferred between the sites. Silus had met Suadurix more than once, when their forts had taken place on joint manoeuvres, and when Silus’ scouting missions had left him nearer Suadurix’s barracks than his own and he needed a roof for the night.
Suadurix’s colleague presented his spear as the two riders neared, but Suadurix stepped forward.
‘Silus, it been a long time.’ His Latin was heavily accented with Gallic.
Silus swung himself off his saddle with a groan, steadied himself against the horse’s flank, then reached out to shake Suadurix’s hand briskly.
‘Dark times,’ said Silus gravely and Suadurix nodded.
‘What brings you here?’
‘I can’t really say.’
‘Still doing those secret scouting missions, eh? You need report to prefect? I think he in his praetoria.’
Silus shook his head. ‘No, we are just keeping our heads down. Please don’t go spreading it around that we are here.’
‘Anything you say,’ said Suadurix. ‘I owe you. You save me that time I fell asleep on sentry duty. I be dead now if you not heard the centurion out for my blood, and come find me.’
‘You would have done the same for me, I’m sure. Listen, we could do with some news. What have you heard about the barbarian movements?’
‘Bits. I off duty in one hour. We get beer and food and talk about bastard officers?’
‘That sounds good. We’ll stable the horses and come to meet you. Where is good?’
‘Come my barracks, last one of north-western block. Our contubernium is two men down, so you bunk with us, yes? You don’t mind snoring?’
Silus laughed and looked to Atius. Atius nodded and dismounted. Suadurix exchanged words with his colleague in a Belgic form of Celtic that Silus half understood, and the other auxiliary stepped back to let them past. Hobbling, Silus and Atius led their horses into the fort.
The barrack room of the contubernium was newly built in stone, which was part of the reinforcement and repair work done to the vallum Hadriani by Severus when he had first arrived in Britannia. This had improved the quality of life of the auxiliaries who lived in the fort and no longer had to sleep in wooden structures with their draughts and leaks.
Silus and Atius sat on the lower level of one of four bunk beds that lined the walls of the room. Suadurix was the decanus of the contubernium, the leader of the small squad of eight, although as he had explained to them, they currently numbered only six after two of their comrades had fallen to a Maeatae ambush while on patrol at the end of the previous year’s campaign and had not yet been replaced.
Suadurix passed Silus and Atius a bowl each of hot pulmentum, a wheat porridge that provided basic nutrition and was easy to cook from the daily rations the contubernium received from the granary. Atius mumbled a quiet prayer before eating, and Suadurix gave Silus a questioning look. Silus mouthed the word Christian, and Suadurix nodded his understanding.
As they had guests, Suadurix broke out some of the squad’s other supplies, and he surprised Silus by cooking up a decent myma – offal and blood with herbs and goat’s cheese – on their charcoal stove. The meal smelled delicious after a couple of days of eating hard tack on the road, and the bronze cooking pot was steaming by the time they had finished their pulmentum.
Once the meal was over, the spoons licked clean, and the youngest of the squad detailed to do the washing up, Silus kicked his boots off and sat with his back against the wall and his feet dangling over the side of the bed.
‘I hear about your family,’ said Suadurix. ‘I’m very sorry.’
Silus nodded his acknowledgement.
‘Things are bad,’ said Suadurix.
‘We know,’ said Silus. ‘Atius was in Voltanio.’
All the members of the contubernium froze and stared at Atius. Atius straightened his back, challenging them to look him in the eyes.
‘You are the one that escaped?’ Suadurix voice held awe.
Atius’ expression was still defiant. ‘I left on the orders of the prefect to bring word to the Emperor. And to save his daughter. Both of which I accomplished.’
‘We heard news of your fort three days after it happened. A boat of Classis Britannica came and centurion told us be ready for war.’
‘What else did you hear?’ asked Silus.
‘They told us there could be an attack any day. Told us we were on our own until the legions from Eboracum came. But, no attack.’
‘What have the barbarians been doing then?’
‘Destroying,’ said Suadurix glumly. ‘Fleeing soldiers and civilians reached us. Not many. They tell us stories. Bad stories.’
Silus and Atius waited, and even the other members of the contubernium looked to their leader to enthral them with horror stories.
‘Voltanio was just the first,’ said Suadurix. ‘All along the vallum Antonini, the Maeatae attacked. Some garrisons made a fighting withdrawal. Most were massacred. A few men escaped. They say that the Maeatae torture and burn their prisoners. And when they finish the forts, they turn to the vici.’
Silus felt suddenly cold, as unbidden memories crowded in on him. He bit the inside of his cheek hard to distract himself, and concentrated on Suadurix.
‘Yesterday a woman arrive with a baby in her arms. It was not her baby. She had been caught by the Maeatae fleeing with her sister, the mother’s baby. The woman herself was pregnant. I heard that she said that the Maeatae raped her, and then raped her sister. She fled while they were occupied with her sister, but she look back, and saw them killing her; they continued even after she was dead.
‘The day before, an old man appeared seeking help. He had burns on his hands and face and couldn’t breathe well. He kept crying that he couldn’t save his wife when the Maeatae burnt their house. He died yesterday.’
‘Is it purely revenge?’ asked Atius.
‘Of course,’ said Suadurix. ‘They hate us for our invasion. They want bring death to us, like we have to them.’
‘It’s more than that,’ said Silus. ‘They want to provoke Caracalla into marching deep into their territory so they can ambush him. And when the other barbarian tribes see Caracalla on the march, they will have no choice but to resist.’
The squad were pale-faced, sipping their beer and watered wine morosely, finding nothing to say.
‘But you, Silus. You will save us all, right?’ Suadurix laughed and clapped Silus hard on the shoulder. Silus gave a half-hearted smile.
‘Or die trying, friend.’