Read Online Tales of Ancient Rome by S. J. A. Turney - Free Book Online
Authors: S. J. A. Turney
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army had smashed the forces of the Dacian king, Decebalus, at most a day’s march from here. It was a simple consequence of war. The poor country dwellers fled the conflict.
Or, given the fact that no Roman forces had yet come this far east, if would be equally reasonable to find the village living its normal life, farmers tending the fields, dogs barking in the enclosures and children playing in the stream.
But no.
There were three figures only that he had seen in the last ten minutes. Three figures; all burly men. They could easily be farmers, but they wandered in and out of the huts, performing no normal tasks. They were a sham. They were there to give the impression of an occupied village, and a sharp-eyed man had to wonder why.
“ There’s trouble afoot, Statilius. This valley is waiting for something.”
“ Sir?” the other riders walked their horses forward to the commander’s position.
“ That village is not what it seems. It may be a trap.”
Statilius shared a look with one of the other riders and then shrugged.
“ Then hadn’t we best get back to the camp and inform the officers, sir? Come back with the entire Seventh and flood the valley with men?”
Maximus shook his head slowly.
“ No. There can’t be too many of them or they’d have defences prepared. If we leave them long enough, they might get reinforcements. Remember that Decebalus is still out there with the rest of his army. Prepare for action.”
One of the other men, Anakreon, a Greek by birth and a bloodthirsty bastard, nodded and unslung his shield. The other three shared another uncertain glance.
“ Sir, if it’s a trap, the five of us charging them could be bloody suicidal! We don’t know what to expect.”
Maximus smiled wryly. “I’m just as happy as you at the thought of riding into a possible ambush, Statilius, but the fact remains that we’re the only unit within at least eight or nine miles of here. If we run back to the camp the Dacians could move on and disappear into the mountains; then we’d never find them.”
Perhaps two thousand of the defenders had managed to flee the brutal siege of Sarmizegethusa two days ago and Trajan, ever pro-active and forceful, had immediately organised scouting units to track down the survivors. To leave enemies alive, particularly with their leader still free, could lead to endless difficulty in the smooth annexation of the territory. The emperor had made it clear. After the first war, when the Dacians broke the terms of the peace, Trajan had stated his intention to invade their land and not to stop until the mountains of Dacia bowed to Rome and stayed that way.
Tracking the survivors from Sarmizegethusa had been all but impossible. The summer had been warm and dry and these mountains and plains were grassy and easy terrain. No mud or undergrowth would betray the passage of a large group of men. After two days of scouring the hills and valleys, this was the first sign of anything out of the ordinary. How could they leave now?
“ We have to check it out.”
“ Sir? Perhaps we should just shadow them as they move on.”
Maximus sighed. He could understand their reluctance, but any moment he was going to have to lay down the law.
“ We can’t shadow them” he explained patiently. “We’re sat in bright sunlight on a hilltop, Orosius. If I can see them moving about in the village, you can be damn sure they’ve seen us. We need to check it out, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”
He glanced around at the four riders. Anakreon was a born fighter; a huge, bearded man who looked more like a bear; far too large for the horse that bore him, really. Statilius was argumentative, but far from mutinous. He would do exactly as ordered and knew well how to handle himself in a fight. Orosius may not be the sharpest pugio in the armoury, but he was a solid trooper with a good sword arm. That just left Senna. Young, thoughtful and quiet, the lanky trooper had carried
Or, given the fact that no Roman forces had yet come this far east, if would be equally reasonable to find the village living its normal life, farmers tending the fields, dogs barking in the enclosures and children playing in the stream.
But no.
There were three figures only that he had seen in the last ten minutes. Three figures; all burly men. They could easily be farmers, but they wandered in and out of the huts, performing no normal tasks. They were a sham. They were there to give the impression of an occupied village, and a sharp-eyed man had to wonder why.
“ There’s trouble afoot, Statilius. This valley is waiting for something.”
“ Sir?” the other riders walked their horses forward to the commander’s position.
“ That village is not what it seems. It may be a trap.”
Statilius shared a look with one of the other riders and then shrugged.
“ Then hadn’t we best get back to the camp and inform the officers, sir? Come back with the entire Seventh and flood the valley with men?”
Maximus shook his head slowly.
“ No. There can’t be too many of them or they’d have defences prepared. If we leave them long enough, they might get reinforcements. Remember that Decebalus is still out there with the rest of his army. Prepare for action.”
One of the other men, Anakreon, a Greek by birth and a bloodthirsty bastard, nodded and unslung his shield. The other three shared another uncertain glance.
“ Sir, if it’s a trap, the five of us charging them could be bloody suicidal! We don’t know what to expect.”
Maximus smiled wryly. “I’m just as happy as you at the thought of riding into a possible ambush, Statilius, but the fact remains that we’re the only unit within at least eight or nine miles of here. If we run back to the camp the Dacians could move on and disappear into the mountains; then we’d never find them.”
Perhaps two thousand of the defenders had managed to flee the brutal siege of Sarmizegethusa two days ago and Trajan, ever pro-active and forceful, had immediately organised scouting units to track down the survivors. To leave enemies alive, particularly with their leader still free, could lead to endless difficulty in the smooth annexation of the territory. The emperor had made it clear. After the first war, when the Dacians broke the terms of the peace, Trajan had stated his intention to invade their land and not to stop until the mountains of Dacia bowed to Rome and stayed that way.
Tracking the survivors from Sarmizegethusa had been all but impossible. The summer had been warm and dry and these mountains and plains were grassy and easy terrain. No mud or undergrowth would betray the passage of a large group of men. After two days of scouring the hills and valleys, this was the first sign of anything out of the ordinary. How could they leave now?
“ We have to check it out.”
“ Sir? Perhaps we should just shadow them as they move on.”
Maximus sighed. He could understand their reluctance, but any moment he was going to have to lay down the law.
“ We can’t shadow them” he explained patiently. “We’re sat in bright sunlight on a hilltop, Orosius. If I can see them moving about in the village, you can be damn sure they’ve seen us. We need to check it out, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”
He glanced around at the four riders. Anakreon was a born fighter; a huge, bearded man who looked more like a bear; far too large for the horse that bore him, really. Statilius was argumentative, but far from mutinous. He would do exactly as ordered and knew well how to handle himself in a fight. Orosius may not be the sharpest pugio in the armoury, but he was a solid trooper with a good sword arm. That just left Senna. Young, thoughtful and quiet, the lanky trooper had carried
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