Blood Vengeance

By Ray Gleason

Blood Vengeance is the first book of the Gaius Marius Mystery series, the memoire of Gaius Marius Insubrecus, the Urban Prefect of Roman Milan, and a retired Roman soldier, who fought with Caesar throughout his Gallic campaigns and the Roman civil war, and who supported Caesar's heir, Octavius, against Caesar's murderers and finall

• Language: English
• Publisher: Erinach LLC
• Release date: Jan 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9798218123086

Book preview

PREAFATIO

De Fine Belli Contra Ariovistum. Gallia in terris Sequaniorum ad Rhenum flumen. Anno Consulium L. Calpurnii Pisonis Caesonini et A Gabinii.

AUC DCXCVI

The End of the Ariovistus Campaign. Gaul, In Sequani Territory, Near the Rhine, During the Consulships of Lucius Calpurnius Piso Caesoninus and Aulus Gabinius, 58 BCE

_______

Ita proelium restitutum est atque omnes hostes terga verterunt nec prius fugere destiterunt quam ad flumen Rhenum milia passuum ex eo loco circiter L pervenerunt ibi perpauci aut viribus confisi tranare contenderunt aut lintribus inventis sibi salutem reppererunt in his fuit Ariovistus qui naviculam deligatam ad ripam nactus ea profugit reliquos omnes consecuti equites nostri interfecerunt

And so, the battle was won, and the entire enemy force turned their backs, and they didn’t stop running until they reached the Rhine, some fifty miles from the battlefield. There, the very few who escaped either relied on their strength to swim across or found small boats to flee. Among these was Ariovistus, who had come upon a small ship tied up on the bank and set off. Our cavalry pursued the enemy and cut them down.

(from Gaius Marius Insubrecus’ notebook of Caesar’s journal)

I

Caesar’s plan to have matters wrapped up within three days of the battle proved wildly optimistic.

The army had its own plan. They pursued the Krauts, looted their camps, took captives for the slave pens, and revenged their dead comrades.

Caesar decided not to press the matter.

He wanted to avoid a recurrence of the ‘mutiny’ which occurred during his march to Vesantio. He understood that, in the minds of these troops, he was still untried, and even more importantly, not fully trusted.

The muli knew Caesar had been caught with his bracae down at Bibracte. He had led the legions into an ambush that would have been a disaster had it not been for the quick reaction of Labienus and his heroic stand on the left flank against the Boii and Tulingi. So, after their victory over the Suebii, Caesar decided to let his troops off the lead.

Caesar had most of the infantry back in camp by the end of the first day after the battle; summoning back the cavalry was a different matter. To give them time, he announced that the rites for the dead would be held at dawn on the third morning after the battle. No Roman soldier would absent himself from the funeral rites of fallen comrades for fear of angering the restless lemures that still hovered over the battlefield where they had been slain.

This presented another problem for Caesar.

By the end of day two, Ariovistus was still in the wind. And, even more importantly, the piles of looted gold and silver he had reputedly accumulated were nowhere to be found. Caesar judged that the Swabian warlord was lying low somewhere until he saw his chance to make a dash for the Rhine with his loot. Withdrawing the Roman cavalry from the Rhine would give Ariovistus just that chance.

That’s where the Sequani cavalry and I came in.

Caesar summoned me, along with Athauhnu, the Gallic commander of the Sequani cavalry, to his Principia during the eighth hour of the second day after the battle. The camp of the Tenth Legion was in a state of disarray… at least ‘disarray’ from a Roman military standpoint. Since the Tenth had suffered the brunt of the fighting, Caesar had stood the entire legion down and set security at its minimum level for a unit in the field; only three in ten were on duty and reasonably sober at any time.

As we approached Caesar’s headquarters along the via principia, a staggering mulus dragging along a half-depleted wine skin in his left hand stumbled into us. He straightened himself up, using Athauhnu’s shoulder as a crutch. When the legionary saw my officer’s sash, he nodded in my direction with a wink and lopsided grin. Then, his eyes focused on Athauhnu like an infant’s on a bright toy. First, he took in with wonder my companion’s Gallic mustachios and long braided hair; then, he threw his arms around Athauhnu’s shoulders.

I love you guys! he gushed, splashing wine down Athauhnu’s lorica. "I love all you guys… hell of a fight… hell of a fight… here… have a drink with me… to our mates… the gods protect them on their journey to Dis…"

Even Athauhnu knew it was horrible luck not to drink a toast to the dead, to say nothing of turning down the offer of a free drink in a sacred cause from a drunken legionary. He took the wine skin, poured a bit on the ground as an offering to the gods of the underworld, then took a swig.

To our mates, Athauhnu said in his best Latin, handing back the skin. May they be fondling nubile maidens in the Land of Youth a month before the gods even know they’ve arrived!

The mulus took the skin, straightened himself up a bit, still relying on Athauhnu for support, still with the lopsided grin, Well said, brother… well said indeed… nubile maidens… you’re a hell of a mate for the hair-faced wog, y’are… Land o’ Youth…  I like that…

Then, the drunk turned toward me and, still leaning against Athauhnu, nodded again, Sorry, sir… don’t drink with officers… not authorized, ya know…

Pushing off Athauhnu with his free hand, the mulus launched himself reeling down one of the side streets between the troop tents, yelling, Quinte! Quinte! Where’d you bloody get to, lad? We got shaggin’ Latin-speakin’ wogs runnin’ around our camp!

Athauhnu and I watched the drunk until he was lost among the tents. Grach fan hetour! I snorted in Gah’el, What a snob! Won’t drink with officers!

Count yourself lucky! Athauhnu retorted. That swill tasted like mare piss… and from the smell of that Roman, he collected it himself right from the source.

We arrived at the principium without further incident. The sentry at the entryway of Caesar’s tent seemed relatively sober, but he did pass us through unchallenged with a wink. There were three praetorians in the atrium, and these boys were dry, alert, and steely-eyed. Labienus was obviously taking no chances with headquarters security in the wake of the Bulla fiasco.

The decanus in charge recognized me. "Pass through, decurio, he nodded. The boss’ expecting you."

As we entered, I heard a strange, guttural sound originating from somewhere behind the praetorians. I looked around and spotted Ebrius hunched over his desk, his head cradled in his arms, dead to the world.

The old boy’s had a lot of wine to test today, the decanus quipped, patting the unconscious Ebrius on the shoulder. Bit of a celebration, ya know!

Even Caesar had a wine cup in his hand. "Ah… bene…  Insubrece! Adone Dux! Pour yourselves some wine… there’s a pitcher of water if you need to mix… join me at the map board…  I have a job for you."

How many bad days of my life were initiated by Caesar saying, ‘I have a job for you’?

Athauhnu and I poured some wine for ourselves. I took mine mixtus – half wine and half water; Athauhnu, merum, straight up. We walked over to the campaign map. Labienus was slouched in a camp chair, legs straight out in front of him, a half-emptied cup in his mitt, and a seemingly bemused look on his face.

Welcome to the party, boys! he toasted us. "The name of this game is Find the Missing King of the Krauts."

Caesar laughed at that. It’s a bit more complicated than my slightly inebriated legate here puts it…  but essentially accurate… I’m issuing orders for all Roman forces to return to camp… I’m conducting the rites for our dead tomorrow at dawn… If Ariovistus is lying low out there, he’ll be making a run for it as soon as the way is clear.

Don’t forget the gold, Chief! Labienus interrupted.

And there’s that, Caesar agreed. We haven’t turned up Ariovistus’ treasury… I believe he sent it east before the battle began…

Sent it east? It was my turn to interrupt, under the cover of a wine-laden protocol. "How much gold are we talking about, Patrone?"

Caesar shrugged, A couple of wagons at least…

Wagons? I reacted. We encountered three wagons moving east when we went after Troucillus… guarded by household troops… well-armored…  last place we saw them was… I moved over to the map and examined the terrain for a few heartbeats.

Here! I said, pointing to a spot on a snaky line of blue chalk. "A ford over the River of Lilies… we were only interested in freeing Troucillus, so we didn’t pay much attention to the wagons themselves. Mentul’ Martis! That explains why those Krauts were willing to give up Troucillus without a fight… he wasn’t their priority… getting those wagons to the Rhenus was!"

‘Mars’ Prick,’ indeed! Caesar agreed. As he examined the map, I saw him rubbing the bandages covering his wounded arm. Makes sense… those wagons should be on the banks of the Rhenus by now, Caesar explained to no one in particular. The Sequani tell me their people keep small boats all along the west bank to fish the river… the Krauts’ll need time to gather enough boats… shift the load into them… they won’t cross without Ariovistus… he wouldn’t want his dosh grabbed up by the tribes on the other side… he’ll go to the river… find the wagons, find the gold… find the gold, find Ariovistus!

Caesar turned to me, How soon can your troop ride?

I turned toward Athauhnu. He looked down into his now empty wine cup and shrugged. Sequani hold their beer better than Romans… most can ride!

I nodded, then turned to Caesar, We need some supply… for the horses mostly… oats… jerky… maybe a little salt…

Caesar nodded and said, That’s not a problem.

He walked over to his field desk and scribbled on a piece of papyrus paper. Then, he spilled a few drops of melted wax from a candle and impressed his signet ring into the congealing puddle.

He handed me the sheet, Show this to the centurion in charge of supply… Opilio’s his name!

I looked at the note, "QUAVIS IMPERAT MIL DA CAES IMP… give this soldier anything he wants, Caesar Imperator."

II

We were mounted up and moving east by the tenth hour.

We had managed to assemble most of our troop, twenty-three riders. I suspected a couple of the boys tied themselves to their saddles to keep from falling off their mounts. Rarely do soldiers miss an opportunity to chase treasure, for a few coins always find their way into the purses of the captors as a finders’ fee. So, anyone who couldn’t mount for this expedition was truly and irrevocably drunk.

I divided the troop into two turmae, one under Ci and the other under Guithiru. Duglos and Ewuhn, the scouts from Vesantio, were in camp and accompanied us, as did their chief, Dai mab Gluhn. Everyone wanted a piece of Ariovistus’ gelt.

I hadn’t needed Caesar’s chit at supply.

Opilio, the centurion in charge of the frumentarii, the foragers, was nowhere to be found. I finally located his assistant, a mulus named Caeso, in a wagon marked ‘XXVI’ in white chalk. Cradling a half-full wine cup, he was sitting among three rows of amphorae tied securely into wooden racks.

When I knocked on the side of the wagon, he hopped down, immediately losing his balance. At first, I thought he was drunk, but then I saw the trailing edge of a fresh, red scar running down his thigh. He was one of the wounded from Bibracte whom Agrippa had recruited into is frumentarius detail.

Regardless, Caeso was a bit tight. He took in my officer’s sash, straightened himself up a bit and said, What can I do fer ya, y’onor?

Where’s your officer? I asked.

Me officer? he shrugged. Not around.

I had been in the army long enough to recognize this routine. He was covering for Opilio. "I can see that for myself soldier. Where is he?"

He’s outta the camp, Caeso answered, again giving me the obvious and the minimum.

I sighed, then demanded, Explain!

Caeso decided that he had held up his end of the bargain long enough. Some of his mates from the Seventh… some cavalry boys… they came by ‘bout an hour after sun up… they had this big confab… then Opilio tells me he’s goin’ off with ‘em… may not be back till after dark… then he takes two a’ the wagons with ‘im… numbers IX and XIV… they was empty ones… and they go ridin’ off through the supply gate… tells me I’m in charge till he gets back… don’t screw nothin’ up, he tells me.

He just up and left? I challenged.

Our job’s to forage, y’onor, Caeso shrugged.

Again, the obvious and the minimum. I decided to drop it. "I have a chit from the Imperator for supply," I said showing the note.

Directly from the old man hisself! Caeso declared. Can’t read, but the seal looks real enough… besides, you’re an officer… whatta you need?

Not much, I answered. "Some oats for the horses… maybe some salt… bucellatum…  some jerky…  we may be out for a couple of days."

Caeso thought for a few heartbeats. Oats’re in wagon VII… you’ll find field rations in wagons XI and XII…  salt…  let me think… salt’d be in the supply tent… we keep an eye on it… valuable, ya know.

So, I got everything we needed from supply without handing over Caesar’s note. Before we left camp, I folded it and stashed it in my kit. I had been in the army long enough to know not to waste something that may someday be useful.

We decided to head for the ford where we last saw the wagons, when we grabbed Troucillus away from the Krauts. The trackers agreed there should still be a trail they could pick up.

We rode past the Germans’ western camp. It had been flattened after the battle, wagons burned and looted. It was now occupied by a cohort of muli from the Eighth Legion. They were guarding prisoners, mostly women and children, until the slavers came and picked them up. I doubted many men of fighting age survived the battle, or, if they did, they didn’t hang around to be picked up as prisoners. I didn’t want to think about what might have happened to the old people among them. They couldn’t run, and they had no value as slaves.

We arrived at the western bank of the ford during the eleventh hour. As we had hoped, Duglos and Ewuhn picked up the wagon tracks heading straight east toward the Rhenus. Our initial plan was to ride hard to the river some thirty-five thousand passus away, to get ahead of the wagons or to trap them against the river.

But we were quickly sidetracked.

We were no more than five thousand passus from the ford when Drust, one of our scouts, rode back to us.

"A Pen! he said, Boss! We got something ahead!" Drust had perfected the art of looking at neither Athauhnu nor me when he addressed us.

What is it? Athauhnu asked.

Drust shrugged, Crows… a lot of them… something’s dead in a thicket ahead… Rhodri’s waiting on the trail… Duglos and Ewuhn went on to check it out.

Athauhnu, Dai and I rode ahead. We had no sooner picked up Rhodri when we saw Duglos riding back to us.

A Pen! he announced. We have found one of the wagons.

For a moment I wondered whether Duglos had been taking lessons in military obscurity from Caeso.

Show us! Dai demanded.

We rode ahead down into a thicket. The trail dipped into a shallow gully and narrowed as it entered the trees, the perfect spot for an ambush. No sooner did I spot Ewuhn than I saw a wagon. Around it were bodies, at least a dozen of them… still in their armor!

Did this just now happen? I asked.

"No, a Pen, Ewuhn assured me. They’ve been dead a few hours… the black servants of the Morigana, the Great Queen of the Crows, have been at work on them…"

But who would leave the armor and weapons behind? I interrupted.

Ewuhn shrugged. Whoever did this was in a hurry… they wanted what was in the wagon… whatever it was, it was much more valuable than the military equipment… and they needed to escape quickly.

The wagon’s empty? I asked.

Except for another body, he confirmed. This one’s a woman.

A woman? I repeated.

I guided my horse, Beorn, around the end of the wagon. There, lying on her back with her legs hanging over the end of the wagon’s tailgate was a young woman, her blue eyes staring sightlessly up at me. She had been killed by a single sword-thrust up under her sternum… a Roman technique of killing.

I heard Athauhnu’s voice behind me. Her clothes aren’t even torn… she’s untouched… whoever did this must have not wanted to waste any time.

I broke away from those staring blue eyes. "A mystery, a Pen! But we have a mission to get to the Rhine. There are still two wagons ahead of us. Strip these men of their armor and cache it back in the woods… I don’t want the extra weight slowing us down… we’ll pick it up on the way back."

What about the bodies? Athauhnu asked.

No time, I said. They’ll serve as our offering to the Great Raven Queen!

III

We reached the Rhine near the end of the first watch of the night.

It was slow going after the sun went down. The moon hadn’t risen, and we had to navigate… and see… by the stars only. In that darkness, there was no point in trying to stay on a trail. So, we purposely swung south and planned to drive north in the morning to cross the trail of the wagons near the river.

We established the horse lines on a small hill about five hundred passus from the riverbank. Even at that distance, we could hear the movement of the great waters to the east; there was a smell in the air, slightly fishy and heavy with wet mud. The horses reacted to it, pulling at their harnesses to free themselves and get to the water.

We built no fires. We assumed that if Ariovistus had not yet crossed over, he and his band would be nearby. So, for security, we pushed two-man listening posts out along the avenues of approach. In the laager itself, we were ‘two-by-two’; one in each pair could sleep, while the other kept watch. Finally, with security set for the night and our horses tended to, we settled down to a supper of jerky and buccellatum softened in cold water.

I was paired with Athauhnu. We were going over the day’s events to keep them fresh in our minds. As we started reviewing the scene of the ambush, we decided to get our scouts, Rhodri and Drust, in on the conversation. After a few hissing inquiries in the dark, they finally joined us. But I sensed there were more than two crowding in on us.

Rhodri… Drust… who else is there? I whispered.

From out of the dark I heard, "Duglos, a Pen!" Then, Ewuhn! Then, a few heartbeats after that, Dai mab Gluhn.

"A regular Saturnalia feast we’re holding here," I quipped.

No one got the joke, so I continued. Who was first to get to the wagon this afternoon?

That would be me and Ewuhn, I heard Rhodri reply. But we all knew something was up… we could see the crows flocking to the place… where crows flock like that there’s always fresh meat for the dark goddess.

Then, I heard Dai’s voice say, Go ahead…  tell him!

Tell me what… I began.

Duglos’ voice, "The wagon tracks going down into the thicket… we were supposed to be following the three Almaenwuhd wagons, but there were tracks of two other wagons going in the same direction… Rhufeinig we think…"

Why Roman? I challenged.

I heard some whispering in the dark, then Dai said, Roman wagons have thicker wheels and a wider wheelbase.

I see, I agreed. What else about the wagon trails?

Duglos again, Five wagons go east into the thicket… the German wagons are heavy going in… the Romans, light… two wagons come out going east… German… and they’re still loaded… two wagons go back west… Roman… but now they’re loaded… the fifth wagon, we found… empty.

"So, Roman looters find one of the wagons, kill the Almaenwuhr guarding it and the woman… take whatever they find," Athauhnu suggested.

No… I started, Something’s wrong… the Romans brought the wagons with them… it’s as if they knew about the German wagon…  where it would be and what it would be carrying… but why did they move the load? Looters would just take the wagon and all… the wagon itself had value to the army… and the woman… why kill her? You all saw her… she’d be valuable to the slavers… the Roman wagons… it’s as if whoever it was wanted to hide the loot…

Then I asked, Were the Roman wagons escorted?

Ehwuhn this time, "Hard to tell, a Pen… there were many riders with the wagons… but going back west there was an escort with the Romans… and someone had to kill those Almaenwuhr."

How many, do you think? I asked Ehwuhn.

I could feel Ehwuhn shrug somewhere out in the dark, Thirty… maybe more…

Thirty, I thought, three turmae. Then I heard Rhodri whisper, Go ahead… tell him.

Tell me what? I demanded.

Drust, "One Almaenwuhr escaped!"

Escaped! How? What do you mean? I challenged.

Drust again, One set of tracks… dismounted… going west…

"West? Why would a German go west toward the Rufeinai?" I asked.

Again, whispering in the dark. Then, Rhodri, "You saw the dead Almaenwuhr, a Pen… they were gedriht, as the Almaenwuhr call them… bodyguards… sworn men… probably for that woman who was dead in the wagon… they fail, they die… most did… one did not…  Why? We do not know… but he failed… that is shameful for those people… so shameful that none would share a fire with such a man… his gods curse him… he goes west for… for…  what are the words the Almaenwuhr use for such a thing?"

Racca! I heard Athauhnu say, "Bloderacca… tiall gouat in our language… blood vengeance."

IV

We were up and moving as soon as it was light enough to see. We moved north, paralleling the Rhine. We hoped to cross the wagon trail just as the morning sun emerged in the eastern sky.

As I watched the edge of an orange sun rise over the horizon, I realized at that very moment, back at the site of our battle with the Suebii, the black smoke of five legionary pyres was rising to lead the manes of our fallen comrades away to Elysium, to prevent their spirits from becoming confused and angry lemures haunting the site of their deaths and the comrades, who they would believe had abandoned them.

I rubbed the chainmail of my lorica, where Bona Fortuna hung.

My head was still spinning from the previous night’s conversation. Bloderacca… blood vengeance! Our people had no such concept. In fact, under our customs, such a thing is unlawful, shameful. Understandably, men kill in the heat of the moment, but to hunt men coldly and to slaughter them for revenge is something foreign to the Gah’el.

Athauhnu said that, among the Almaenwuhr, these feuds can last for generations. Those seeking revenge are actually considered heroic! Any deception, any betrayal, any duplicity with the goal of exacting vengeance is considered worthy of a warrior. Their merlinai, their bards… skopas, Athauhnu called them… chant the praises of vengeful slaughter – mead halls burned to the ground on top of men, women, and children – as if these were heroic battles.

Upon reflection, I had to admit that it was vengeance… vindicare the Romans call it… which drove me to join the army. The attempts of the Gabinii on my life – first Gabi’s husband, then her brother, and then Gabi herself – had continued to pursue me, even into the Gallic provincia. So, Romans also practiced it. They saw vindicta, vengeance, as mitigating acts of violence, but they did not become obsessed with it. For Romans, when revenge becomes unprofitable, they abandon it

At least, that’s what I hoped.

We estimated we were less than a thousand passus west of the river when we rediscovered the wagon trail. Athauhnu and I took our scouts, Drust and Rhodri, to reconnoiter toward the river. Dai and Guithiru stayed with the main body.

We moved forward as stealthily as we dared until we arrived at a small bluff overlooking the riverbank. We dismounted, leaving the horses with Drust, and crept to the edge of the bluff.

We had arrived too late. The Krauts had gone.

We immediately saw two large wagons; their horses were still in their harnesses. The mounts of the German escort were grazing around the wagons. The Almaenwuhr had abandoned them.

We remained hidden to ensure that it was not a trap. We could detect no movement, no activity, except for the grazing horses. Finally, with swords drawn, we moved down to the river.

Rhodri immediately saw where small boats had been moored against the muddy bank. There were footprints of the men who had unloaded the wagons into the boats. We even stood there staring at the far bank some three hundred passus distant to see if we could spy the abandoned boats or some movement of the men who had escaped us. But we saw nothing except the dark forested bluffs of Germania.

The horses are of some value, I heard Athauhnu’s voice behind me as I stared into the rising sun, my hands cupped over my eyebrows, looking for some movement on the far shore. "We can take the wagons too if you think they’ll be of value to the Rhufeinai."

I had no sooner grunted a noncommittal response when we heard Rhodri call to us from a few passus away. A Pen! Douelcha! Gouelai! he called, Boss! Come here! Look at this! We found Rhodri among some trees a few passus away. He was scratching at the earth with the heel of his boot. Look at this, he said again.

There, in the shallow furrow that he had dug out, I saw what appeared to be leather or fabric, then coins. They didn’t take it all, Rhodri was saying. I followed some tracks to this spot… I saw some disturbed ground under the dead leaves… they must have been in a hurry… didn’t have enough room in the boats… they didn’t bury it very deep.

I fell to my knees and scooped out the dirt. There were bags of coins in the shallow ditch.

You think they’re coming back for it? I heard Rhodri ask.

Why take the chance! I said, pulling one of the bags out of the ground. The leather was still fresh, supple. We’ll throw these in one of the wagons… look around for any other caches.

We sent Drust back for the rest of the troop, then searched the general area. We found a pile of discarded weapons, spearheads, some knives, and a couple of swords.  They were pitted with rust and not well-forged, but the iron had to be worth something, and we needed to keep them out of the hands of the Krauts across the river. So, we threw them into one of the wagons with the bags of coins.

I held one of the coin bags out. "Athauhnu! A Pen! You and Dai spread these around…  the men earned them… especially Rhodri… he found the hoard."

Athauhnu took the bag and stirred the coins with a finger. Mostly brass and small silver… he mumbled absently. Then, he shrugged, "More than enough for a couple days’ work… and we still have the armor and weapons from the other wagon, and the horses… Da! Good! The men will be happy!"

V

We decided to backtrack along the wagon trail back to the ford across the River of Lilies. When we got to the ambush site, we would retrieve the military equipment we had cached there. We would also disappoint the black servants of the Morigena, the Great Queen, and bury what was left of the Krauts.

We were traveling along leisurely, no faster than the two captured wagons hauled by tired horses could go. I thought my only immediate problem was composing my excuses for Caesar. Ariovistus had apparently escaped with most of his treasure. So, that part of my mission was a failure. Certainly, Caesar understood that we had gotten a late start, that our chances of catching up to the Swabian warlord were remote at best.

I was so busy trying to spin the facts for my commander that I didn’t notice Drust, our scout, galloping back to our column until Athauhnu grabbed my arm.

"A Pen!" he was saying, Something’s up!

I looked up just as Drust reached us. "A Pen! We have found a new trail… riders… and it’s fresh."

When Drust said this, I felt a strange feeling of fatigue and fear overtake me… or rather a feeling of frustration at an unpleasant situation which refuses to end…  defying a resolution. We had fought two major battles in less than two months… we had pursued our enemies to the banks of the Rhenus… we were heading back to the army… this war was supposed to be over.

I realized both Athauhnu and Drust were looking at me… waiting for my response.

I pushed the dark clouds of frustration away and said definitively, Show me!… I was learning how to act more like a soldier.

Athauhnu, Dai and I followed Drust down the trail. We had gone only some two hundred passus, when I saw Rhodri standing dismounted on our path. Dai’s men, Duglos and Ewuhn, were following along an invisible track some hundred passus to the north.

Rhodri reported as we pulled up, Fifteen horses… shod… carrying armored men… break off here to the north… less than four hours… maybe six.

Who? Athauhnu demanded.

Rhodri shrugged, "Not Almaenwuhr… wrong direction… maybe Rhufeinai…"

Why would Romans be traveling north? I challenged.

Again, Rhodri shrugged.

Then, I heard a shout from the direction of Dai’s men. I looked up to see Duglos approaching us at a fast canter. He pulled up next to Dai and held something out to him. Dai took it and examined it; it looked like a large coin.

Dai snorted. They were Gah’el… Aineduai, he said handing the coin to Athauhnu.

Athauhnu examined the