Read Online Dreaming the Serpent Spear by Manda Scott - Free Book Online Page B

tentmates. He had been with Corvus from the first days of the Fifth Gauls, and was nearing retirement. His hair was greyer than the prefect’s and his face more lined, but he carried less care.
    As standard-bearer to the first troop, he was the most senior officer of the wing, under Corvus. He could have slept in a tent of his own with slaves to light the fires and keep his bedding rolls dry. That he preferred the company of his own kind on campaign created a patina of respect amongst the men that drew from them the extra effort required in war.
    Sabinius, too, lay on his back with his fingers laced behind his head and his face turned to the rain-sodden hide of the roof. “You’re asking the wrong question,” he said mildly. “It’s not why did he do it; that’s obvious. What matters is why did we let him? And why did we not and are we not going to report him to the governor?”
    There was quiet, and some thinking.
    “Are we not?” asked Flavius, thoughtfully. “There’s still time. It might save our lives.”
    Ursus said, “We’re not. He’d be given his sword and an eye’s blink to fall on it, and if he paused long enough to commend his spirit to the gods, they’d crucify him in front of the camp as a traitor and a coward.”
    With surprising feeling, Flavius said, “Good.”
    Ursus snorted. “Are you so tired of life? Corvus is the man who will keep us alive through this misbegotten war against sorcerers and warriors who fight with no fear of death. If he dies, who else is going to get us back east with our skins in one piece? In any case, it wasn’t the wrong question. I still want to know — why did he do it?”
    “For Valerius, you fool. Why does he ever do anything?” The other two heard Flavius turn over and rock the pan of hot stones lying in the centre of the tent that drove away the damp for the first part of the night. Temporarily, the air became warmer, and smelled of steam.
    From the wet dark, Flavius said harshly, “You were both in the Eceni steading. You saw him as well as I did. Valerius was there, alive, with his bloody killer of a horse and Corvus couldn’t reach him.”
    “Would he have wanted to?” Ursus was newer than either of the others. His gut was not yet attuned to the thoughts and senses of his prefect as theirs were.
    Flavius snorted, “Of course. Why do you think he hates so much coming west when the whole winter has been bent towards it? The light of his days begins and ends with Valerius and he thought the man was on Mona, or at least on Hibernia with the rest of the god-drenched dreamers. Now he knows he’s in the east and may die with Corvus not there to help or to hinder or even to speak to him at the end and heal the damage between them first.”
    The hot pan rattled a second time, less harshly. Sabinius, older and wiser, said, “Don’t listen to Flavius. He’s bitter because he’s been fifteen years with Corvus and the man has never yet invited him into his inner tent. And he’s jealous of you in the newness and innocence of your love.”
    Ursus blinked in the dark. He had not thought his love so widely known. “But is it true?” he asked.
    “Of course. Everyone knows that Corvus did what he did for Valerius and he would do it again tomorrow, were the cost twice as great. Both of you can smile at your beloved prefect until your jaws crack and your eyes leak down your face and it won’t make any difference; his heart was long since given to a wild boy of the natives who rode a horse called Death and had the courage to face down the madman Caligula.” The bunk creaked and the voice was directed more at one man than the other. “Are you happier knowing that than you were before?”
    The quiet stretched longer this time.
    Eventually, Ursus said, “He loved the governor’s son once. Scapula’s eldest. That was after Valerius. I heard about it.”
    “That wasn’t love, that was anger and politics and an eye to the future. In any case, Scapula’s son