done you must enter The Fang, by means either overt or covert, recover the eagle and, if at all possible, finish the job with Calgus while you’re at it. That man will continue to plague us until his head decorates the legate’s desk in Yew Grove.’
Scaurus turned to his centurions.
‘Well now gentlemen, you heard the choices on offer. Will our approach to this task be overt or covert?’
Julius shared a momentary exchange of glances with Marcus before replying.
‘An open approach will bring the Venicones down upon us like a hammer falling on a clutch of eggs. We only escaped their wrath the last time we met because the gods sent us a storm to make the river between us impossible to cross, and I’m pretty sure that they’ll remember the design on our shields well enough, given how many of them we killed that day. The merest sight of us with our boots on their turf will be enough to bring them out to confront us in force. But if we send a scouting party to infiltrate this fortress in the sky unsupported they will almost certainly be run down and captured before they can return to the wall, if the Venicones’ strength is mustered around their fortress. We must find some way to lure these tribesmen away from The Fang, and allow whoever makes the silent approach a fighting chance of escaping with the eagle. Will you allow me to think on it for a while and to consult with my centurions?’
Scaurus nodded and turned back to the camp prefect.
‘And now, Castus Artorius, perhaps the time is right for you to introduce us to these silent assassins who lurk behind you?’
Castus frowned back at him with an apparent expression of consternation.
‘Assassins, Tribune? Whoever mentioned such a term?’
The younger man smiled wryly at him, shaking his head in amusement.
‘Nobody. And nobody needed to mention it for my mind to go back ten years to the German Wars. I seem to recall that you gathered a similarly nondescript group to you then as well, men whose natural demeanour was to fade into the background and leave the posturing to the soldiers while they quietly got on with doing whatever unpleasant but necessary task was required. So tell me, Prefect, what skills have you assembled to do your dirty work this time?’
The prefect gestured to the tallest of the four.
‘I’ll allow their leader to explain what his men are capable of. Drest here is that rare commodity, a Thracian possessed of both patience and subtlety, and I have learned to trust his judgement implicitly. And now, since my tired old feet are sorely in need of a dip in some hot water, I’ll leave you to it. Drest?’
He closed the barrack door behind him, leaving the two groups of men eyeing each other. The man to whom he had signalled stepped forward and bowed fractionally, extending a hand to his comrades.
‘Tribune, Centurions, allow me to introduce my colleagues.’ His voice was soft, but when Marcus stared at him he found the return gaze hard and uncompromising. ‘These two young men are Ram and Radu, twin brothers raised on the plans of Pannonia in worship of the sword …’
‘They worship the sword? They’re Sarmatae ?’
Julius’s voice was cold, but both Drest’s expression and his voice remained level.
‘They were Sarmatae, First Spear, before their tribe, the Iazyge, rose against Rome and they were taken captive and enslaved. Prefect Castus found them in a slave market, and outbid a dozen other would-be buyers at my suggestion to secure their ownership.’
‘At your suggestion?’
Drest turned back to Marcus.
‘Indeed, Centurion. It is my pleasure to serve Prefect Castus, and to provide him with the benefit of my experience in the procurement of men with certain rare skills, men whose services will enhance his ability to discharge his responsibilities to the empire. In this case, since I see the question in your eyes, I suspected that these men’s origins might have endowed them with certain abilities with bladed
Scaurus turned to his centurions.
‘Well now gentlemen, you heard the choices on offer. Will our approach to this task be overt or covert?’
Julius shared a momentary exchange of glances with Marcus before replying.
‘An open approach will bring the Venicones down upon us like a hammer falling on a clutch of eggs. We only escaped their wrath the last time we met because the gods sent us a storm to make the river between us impossible to cross, and I’m pretty sure that they’ll remember the design on our shields well enough, given how many of them we killed that day. The merest sight of us with our boots on their turf will be enough to bring them out to confront us in force. But if we send a scouting party to infiltrate this fortress in the sky unsupported they will almost certainly be run down and captured before they can return to the wall, if the Venicones’ strength is mustered around their fortress. We must find some way to lure these tribesmen away from The Fang, and allow whoever makes the silent approach a fighting chance of escaping with the eagle. Will you allow me to think on it for a while and to consult with my centurions?’
Scaurus nodded and turned back to the camp prefect.
‘And now, Castus Artorius, perhaps the time is right for you to introduce us to these silent assassins who lurk behind you?’
Castus frowned back at him with an apparent expression of consternation.
‘Assassins, Tribune? Whoever mentioned such a term?’
The younger man smiled wryly at him, shaking his head in amusement.
‘Nobody. And nobody needed to mention it for my mind to go back ten years to the German Wars. I seem to recall that you gathered a similarly nondescript group to you then as well, men whose natural demeanour was to fade into the background and leave the posturing to the soldiers while they quietly got on with doing whatever unpleasant but necessary task was required. So tell me, Prefect, what skills have you assembled to do your dirty work this time?’
The prefect gestured to the tallest of the four.
‘I’ll allow their leader to explain what his men are capable of. Drest here is that rare commodity, a Thracian possessed of both patience and subtlety, and I have learned to trust his judgement implicitly. And now, since my tired old feet are sorely in need of a dip in some hot water, I’ll leave you to it. Drest?’
He closed the barrack door behind him, leaving the two groups of men eyeing each other. The man to whom he had signalled stepped forward and bowed fractionally, extending a hand to his comrades.
‘Tribune, Centurions, allow me to introduce my colleagues.’ His voice was soft, but when Marcus stared at him he found the return gaze hard and uncompromising. ‘These two young men are Ram and Radu, twin brothers raised on the plans of Pannonia in worship of the sword …’
‘They worship the sword? They’re Sarmatae ?’
Julius’s voice was cold, but both Drest’s expression and his voice remained level.
‘They were Sarmatae, First Spear, before their tribe, the Iazyge, rose against Rome and they were taken captive and enslaved. Prefect Castus found them in a slave market, and outbid a dozen other would-be buyers at my suggestion to secure their ownership.’
‘At your suggestion?’
Drest turned back to Marcus.
‘Indeed, Centurion. It is my pleasure to serve Prefect Castus, and to provide him with the benefit of my experience in the procurement of men with certain rare skills, men whose services will enhance his ability to discharge his responsibilities to the empire. In this case, since I see the question in your eyes, I suspected that these men’s origins might have endowed them with certain abilities with bladed
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