‘We could be close to a Roman settlement,’ Gaditicus had said to them. ‘There are hundreds of them along the coast and we can’t be the first prisoners to be left here. We should be able to get on one of the merchant ships and be back in Rome before the end of summer.’
‘I’m not going back,’ Julius had said quietly. ‘Not like this, without money and in rags. I meant what I said to the captain.’
‘What choice do you have?’ Gaditicus replied. ‘If you had a ship and a crew you could still spend months searching for that one pirate out of many.’
‘I heard one of the guards call him Celsus. Even if it’s not his real name, it’s a start. We know his ship and someone will know him.’
Gaditicus raised his eyebrows. ‘Look, Julius. I would like to see the bastard again as much as you, but it just isn’t possible. I didn’t mind you baiting the idiot on board, but the reality is we don’t have a sword between us, nor coins to rub together.’
Julius stood and looked steadily at the centurion. ‘Then we will start by getting those, then men to make a crew, then a ship to hunt in. One thing at a time.’
Gaditicus returned the gaze, feeling the intensity behind it. ‘We?’ he said quietly.
‘I’d do it alone if I had to, though it would take longer. If we stay together, I have a few ideas for getting our money back so we can return to Rome with pride. I won’t creep back home beaten.’
‘It’s not a thought I enjoy,’ Gaditicus replied. ‘The gold my family sent will have pushed them all into poverty. They will be happy to see me safe, but I will have to see how their lives have changed every day. If you aren’t just dreaming, I will listen to those ideas of yours. It can’t hurt to talk it through.’
Julius put out his hand and gripped the older man’s shoulder, before turning to the others.
‘What about the rest of you? Do you want to go back like whipped dogs or take a few months more to try and win back what we have lost?’
‘They will have more than just our gold on board,’ Pelitas said slowly. ‘They wouldn’t be able to leave it anywhere and be safe, so there’s a good chance the legion silver will be in the hold as well.’
‘Which belongs to the legion!’ Gaditicus snapped with a trace of his old authority. ‘No, lads. I’ll not be a thief. Legion silver is marked with the stamp of Rome. Any of that goes back to the men who earned their pay.’
The others nodded at this, knowing it was fair.
Suetonius spoke suddenly in disbelief.
‘You are talking as if the gold is here, not on a distant ship we will never see again while we are lost and hungry!’
‘You are right,’ Julius said. ‘We had better get started along that path. It’s too wide to be just for animals, so there should be a village hereabouts. We’ll talk it out when we have a chance to feel like Romans again, with good food in our bellies and these stinking beards cut off.’
The group rose and walked towards the break in the foliage with him, leaving Suetonius alone, his mouth hanging open. After a few moments, he closed it and trotted after them.
The two torturers stood silently as Antonidus viewed the wreck that had been Fercus. The general winced in sympathy at the mangled carcass, glad that he had been able to enjoy a light sleep while it was going on.
‘He said nothing?’ Antonidus asked, shaking his head in amazement. ‘Jupiter’s head – look what you’ve done to him. How could a man stand that?’
‘Perhaps he knew nothing,’ one of the grim men replied.
Antonidus considered it for a moment.
‘Perhaps. I wish we could have brought his daughters to him so I could be sure.’
He seemed fascinated by the injuries and inspected the body closely, noting each cut and burn. He whistled softly through his teeth.
‘Astonishing. I would not have believed he had such courage in him. He didn’t even try to give false names?’
‘Nothing, General. He didn’t say a word to us.’
The two men exchanged a glance again, hidden behind the general’s back as he bent close to the bound corpse. It was a tiny moment of communication before they resumed their blank expressions.
Varro Aemilanus welcomed the ragged officers into his house with a beaming smile. Although he had been retired from legion life for fifteen years, it was always a pleasure to see the young men the pirates left on his small stretch of coast. It reminded him of the world outside his village, distant enough not to trouble his peaceful life.
‘Sit down, gentlemen,’ he said, indicating couches that were thinly padded. They had been fine once, but time had taken the shine from the cloth, he noted with regret. Not that these soldiers would care, he thought as they took the places he indicated. Only two of them remained standing and he knew they would be the leaders. Such little tricks gave him pleasure.
‘Judging by the look of you, I’d say you have been ransomed by the pirates that infest this coastline,’ he said, his voice drenched in sympathy. He wondered what they would say if they knew that the pirate Celsus often came to the village to talk to his old friend and give him the news and gossip of the cities.
‘Yet this settlement is untouched,’ said the younger of the two.
Varro glanced sharply at him, noting the intense blue stare. One of the eyes had a wide, dark centre that seemed to look through his cheerful manner to the real man. Despite the beards, they all stood straighter and stronger than the miserable groups Celsus would leave nearby every couple of years. He cautioned himself to be careful, not yet sure of the situation. At least he had his sons outside, well armed and ready for his call. It paid to be careful.
‘Those they have ransomed are left along this coast. I’m sure they find it useful to have the men returned to civilisation to keep the ransoms coming in. What would you have us do? We are farmers here. Rome gave us the land for a quiet retirement, not to fight the pirates. That is the job of our galleys, I believe.’ He said the last with a twinkle in his eye, expecting the young man to smile or look embarrassed at failing in that task. The steady gaze never faltered and Varro found his good humour evaporating.
‘The settlement is too small for a bath-house, but there are a few private homes that will take you in and lend you razors.’
‘What about clothes?’ said the older of the two.
Varro realised he didn’t know their names and blinked. This was not the usual way of such conversations. The last group had practically wept to find a Roman in such a strange land, sitting on couches in a well-built stone house.
‘Are you the officer here?’ Varro asked, glancing at the younger man as he spoke.
‘I was the captain of Accipiter, but you have not answered my question,’ Gaditicus replied.
‘We do not have garments for you, I am afraid …’ Varro began.
The young man sprang at him, gripping his throat and pulling him out of his seat. He choked in horror and sudden fear as he was dragged over the table and pressed down onto it, looking up into those blue eyes that seemed to know all his secrets.
‘You