Legionary (38 page)

‘Whoa!’ Felix skidded to a halt. Pavo and Sura stumbled up next to the diminutive optio and followed his line of sight. Down below the stream of Huns coming round the mountain from the east and west had met. They were encircled in a noose of ferocious riders. ‘Get down — we need to think of a backup plan — and quickly!’

The sun was falling. Only a few hours of daylight left. Pavo crouched with Felix and Sura behind a rock pile near the southern base of the hill. Ahead, a thin strip of brush ran between them and the beach, which shimmered in the long orange late afternoon rays. Beyond that lay the waters — the way home.

They had scrambled down the hillside in between each Hun patrol. Packs of roughly fifty riders were sweeping around the mountain base, giving almost blanket coverage to the area. The three had used the few moments in between where the patrols had been a little sloppy, throwing themselves down the rough terrain, and now wore the cuts and bruises to prove it.

‘No boats,’ Sura muttered.

‘Thanks, Sura,’ Felix hissed, ‘I think we established that some time ago.’

Pavo gazed into the dock of Chersonesos — about a mile to the west — and counted the number of triremes bobbing gently in the harbour area. Wulfric and the I Dacia were in this up to their eyes. ‘There’s got to be a way that we can get into the city and get one of those ships.’

‘This isn’t nicking fruit from a street stall, Pavo,’ Felix chided him, ‘We’re XI Claudia all over, and we’re talking about getting inside that bitch of a wall, strolling through some twenty thousand of those stocky little buggers, plus the small matter of a couple of thousand cutthroat traitors who call themselves legionaries. Then,’ he gasped, running out of breath, ‘then we have to man a trireme — three of us? Come on, think again.’

Pavo scowled. ‘Maybe it’s not going to be that difficult, sir.’

Now even Sura looked at him in incredulity. ‘I’ve pulled off some spectacular heists in my time, Pavo, but come on…’

‘Hear me out,’ he insisted, ‘We want to get a boat, right?’

Felix shot him a glare.

‘I’ll take that as a yes…sir,’ he added quickly. ‘So why not go the direct route? If we want a boat, we go in by sea. We swim it!’

Felix cocked an eyebrow. ‘Aye, thought so. You are mental.’

‘Sir!’ He gasped. ‘That sandbank that would cover us, so we would be able to slip right up to the harbour. Time is not on our side and,’ he held his arms out, ‘I can’t see how else we are getting in there.’

‘Allright, Pavo,’ Felix nodded, casting an eye to the sun, ‘I’m entertaining you here. But tell me — how do we take control of a trireme from water level — we couldn’t take our armour or anything if we were to swim it?’

‘Well I don’t know, but at least it gets us closer to our goal,’ he blurted. He felt his heart race as he tried to salvage his argument.

Sura shrugged his shoulders. ‘Aye, but still, how do we pilot a trireme with three people?’

‘There might be a small cog in there somewhere — we’ll never know unless we get closer. Look — do either of you have a better plan?’

Felix and Sura stared back blankly, and then shook their heads in resignation.

‘Pavo, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you win. Armour off, chaps, just a dagger and some rope or we’ll be fish food.’

Another pack of Huns thundered past, just on the other side of the rock pile. ‘Don’t they ever lose any time?’ Felix hissed in frustration as the first pack slipped around the hillside and yet another pack rolled into view covering the line of sight.

‘What if one of us acts as a decoy, sir?’ Sura chirped. ‘To distract the riders for long enough so the other two can get in the drink?’

‘There are only three of us, Sura. It’s a good idea, but it’s risky. If the decoy gets caught, then we’d all be stuffed…and I dread to think what would happen to the decoy should these whoresons get their hands on him.’ Silence descended on the trio for a few moments as the Hun party rumbled past.

‘I’ll be the decoy, sir,’ Sura spoke in a low voice. Felix turned to argue once more, but Sura cut him off before he could begin. ‘I’m a fast runner. Long legs and all — no offence, sir.’ The diminutive optio barely suppressed a grimace. ‘And although he’s built like a gazelle, Pavo is more like a pregnant cow when he tries to run. So it’s got to be me. Come on, it’s now or never.’ Again, a silence descended onto them.

Felix was clearly flustered, and he hesitated for a few moments too long.

‘See you on the boat,’ Sura chirped, before leaping over the rock pile just behind the Hun patrol.

‘Sura…’ Pavo swallowed his words and ducked as the Hun pack snapped round at the sound of his friend’s boots scraping on the rocks.

‘Come on then!’ Sura cried at the riders, then cupped his hands to emit a shrill whistle.

‘I thought you were a scatterbrain, Pavo, but that boy is a bloody idiot!’ Felix was scarlet with rage.

Pavo felt his blood run cold as he watched the Huns close in on his friend, lassos spinning and spears dipped. ‘No disrespect, sir, but I made a pact with Sura. I’m not having him die for nothing.’ With that he leapt up and over the rock pile, landing gently in the grass.

‘Pav…’ Felix spat behind him, ‘Oh for…’ he finished, hauling himself up and over too.

They scudded stealthily past behind the crescent of Huns who closed in on Sura, then flitted over the sand and onto the sandbank, then into the shallows.

‘They’re going to see us,’ Pavo hissed as he glanced over his shoulder to see Sura jinking from a lasso throw, and then breaking into a sprint. But the Huns were on him, it was only a matter of moments before he was a goner.

‘No they’re not!’ Felix grunted, thrusting a hand into Pavo’s back. With a splash, the pair were underwater.

The icy water, a stark contrast to the baking dryness of the last few days, stabbed at every inch of Pavo’s skin, but he pulled himself down. He had to hold his breath and wait until the Huns were out of the line of sight of the water. Finally, his lungs burned like coals. He lost control and burst clear of the surface.

‘In the name of…will you get down?’ Felix yanked at his sopping tunic and he sank back to have only his eyes peeking from the water. They watched as a dust cloud kicked up behind a detachment of five Hun riders who galloped off at speed to Chersonesos — dragging something in their lasso. ‘Don’t think about it, Pavo, we can’t let anything stop us. Now let’s get our arses over to that harbour.’

His skin burned as he realised his most basic of mistakes. ‘Sir, there’s something I forgot to mention,’ he winced.

Felix gave him a look that he could only surmise as one of utter disbelief. ‘Let’s hear it.’

‘I,’ Pavo stammered, ‘I can’t swim.’

Felix made to roar with disgust and just swallowed the urge in time. ‘I get sent on the most important mission of my life, and I get two bloody clowns for sidekicks. What in Hades d’you mean you can’t swim?’

‘I just got carried away and forgot that I couldn’t…’ Pavo started

‘Bollocks! Come on!’ Felix wrenched him by the scruff of his tunic, dragging him through the shallows until he felt his feet kicking only at water. ‘Only one way to learn,’ the optio grunted.

Pavo felt the cool water lick at his face as he flailed, the depths striving to pull him under. His limbs searched furiously for purchase, his fingers clawing at the wake of Felix’s paddling feet. Another wash of salty water filled his mouth and he hacked it out, sucking in the next breath that was half spray anyway.

‘For Mithras’ sake, Pavo,’ Felix hissed, ‘keep it to a gentle racket or we’re dead!’

His mind screamed at him.
You’re going under, you’re going to drown.
His lungs burned and his heart raced like a drum. Then a long-forgotten voice echoed, quietly at first, and then it grew. It was Father, standing with him in the warm summer shallows of the Propontus, coaching him to paddle.
Fill your lungs and you’ll shoot to the surface, Pavo. That’s it, now it’s you that’s in control, not the water! Now pull your arms out and around, imagine you are as light as a feather. That’s it — keep moving!
The waves began to part in front of him and he gasped in another lungful of air.

‘What the? Are you taking the piss? I thought you said you couldn’t…’ Felix spluttered as Pavo drew up next to him.

‘Seems I could after all,’ he replied, frowning.

They paddled on in silence, and the harbour walls of Chersonesos began to peek over their covering sandbank before long. Pavo glanced up, counting a handful of spear tips bobbing behind the crenellations. ‘Stay in close to the bank,’ he whispered to Felix.

‘No need,’ the optio hissed, lifting a seaweed and slime coated length of rope from the water. The rope caused a shiver in the surface of the water, betraying its lie all the way up to the hull of the second trireme. ‘This’ll take us in between those two ships. Out of sight and with our pick of the vessels!’ They pulled forward on the rope, cutting through the grimy harbour water until they touched the Hull.

‘You first,’ Felix nodded.

The rope waved up above them, looping onto the deck of the vessel. Pavo shimmied up only a few times and then slithered back into the water. He tried again under a fiery glare from Felix, only to come crashing down again. ‘Too wet and slimy — we need another way up.’

‘Bugger!’

Pavo examined the side of the vessel; the oar holes punctuated the hull every few paces about halfway from the waterline. ‘If we can get up to the oar holes?’

‘You’d need to be tiny to get in one of those…oh, I see.
I’ll
do it, shall I?’

‘Needs must, sir.’ Pavo smiled innocently. ‘Here, I can give you a foot up.’ He cupped his hands and the optio used the momentary fraction of extra height he gained before Pavo sunk down underwater to launch himself up and grapple the edge of the oar hole. Pavo saw the optio’s legs squirm inside. Alone, Pavo felt suddenly cold and alone as the scummy water lapped at him. He rallied himself with his father’s words as he paddled gracefully to stay afloat and wondered what else might be lurking in the shadows of his mind. Then he jolted to attention as a Hun Lasso dropped around him and wrenched tightly around his arms and midriff.

‘By Mithras, you’re heavy for such a skinny bugger,’ Felix grunted from above, his face straining red and his boots anchored on the lip of the vessel.

The rope lurched upwards in fits and starts, and Pavo felt like some kind of prize catch as he flapped the bottoms of his pinned arms uselessly. Finally, he tumbled over the edge and onto the deck with a wet slap. Felix fell back next to him.

‘Right, we’ve done the first impossible step. Now how in Hades do we sail one of these things?’

Pavo sat up, wiping the water from his eyes. His entire body froze as he looked up the deck. Twenty legionaries stood, grinning, swords drawn, I Dacia colours emblazoned on their shields.

‘That’s the least of our worries, sir.’

Sura cried out as the horsemen dragging him rounded the gatehouse of Chersonesos. His knees, already stripped of skin, scraped onto the flagstones, leaving a scarlet trail. Flitting glances up at the roadside, he saw the baying faces of Hun soldiers, women and even children, all bearing angry scarring on their cheeks. Stones rained down around him, and only the speed of the riders saved his bones being crushed under the hail. Only when his eyes began to slide shut from the pain did they finally slow.

A dagger glinted in the sun, but it barely registered as he waited on the blade to sink into him. He was numb now. Instead, the thick chop of rope snapping was all he heard.

‘Roman!’ A jagged voice boomed. ‘We are not finished with you yet. We will cut your throat soon enough, but first you will serve us. You will be the downfall of your pathetic legion.’

A spear shaft smashed into his jaw, sending a white light through his brain, and then another shaft ground in underneath him and propped him up, limbs dangling uselessly at his side. Then an icy wash of water crashed down on him and he gasped. His eyes flickered open; he was in the town square. Before him, a wooden platform had been erected. A Hun sat on a timber bench, affixing him with a glare that bit at his soul. All around him, the town square was bordered with Hun warriors, cheering as their leader settled to speak.

Then a voice called out. ‘All hail the great and noble Balamber!’ At once, the square fell silent to a man. The man on the platform smoothed his wispy moustache. His hooked nose and dead eyes seemed to judge Sura like a piece of rotten meat. A pile of iron armour lay by the side of the bench, but the man was dressed no differently from his kin; a red tunic and goatskin leggings, with a necklace of animal teeth. Sura trembled, the man had a terrible aura around him, and the thousands surrounding him seemed cowed into silence by his presence.

‘Do you know who I am?’ Sura grumbled belying the terror in his veins.

The Hun leader wrinkled his lips and a smirk hung on his face.

‘I do, you are one of the many who will die before me. My mercy is rare and sparing. Your life is…’

‘…Unofficial King of Adrianople…’ Sura muttered, cutting Balamber short.

Balamber’s eyes flared. ‘Silence him!’ He roared.

At once a sword hilt smashed into Sura’s cheekbone and he fell back to the ground, head lolling limply to one side.

‘Throw him in the cells. And cook up some metals!’

Pavo circled back to back with Felix, dagger in hand, near the centre of the deck by the mast.

‘You dirty whoresons are going to make a fine kill,’ Felix spat at the twenty as they formed a circle around them. ‘Call yourselves Roman?’

‘Roman?’ The largest called back. ‘No, I call myself a Goth — a proud follower of Athanaric. Good of your emperor to foot the bill for all this kit though, eh?’

‘So you’re whoring yourselves to Rome one minute and to these vicious, ignoble buggers the next? I wouldn’t be too proud of that,’ Pavo threw back. ‘Do you know how many of your kin they have slaughtered?’