Read Online The Silver Eagle by Ben Kane - Free Book Online
Authors: Ben Kane
Tags: Fiction, Historical fiction, Historical, Historical - General, Fiction - Historical, Historical & Mythological Fiction
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wake.
Fortunately, the weather aided their escape. Dense flurries of snow began to fall, severely reducing the visibility and covering their trail. There was no pursuit, and Romulus presumed that the Scythians knew how close their camp was. Although he did too, his keen sense of direction soon went awry; he was very glad that Tarquinius seemed to know exactly which way to go. The temperature was dropping even further as the snow began to collect on the ground. If they strayed even a small distance off course, there was little chance of ever reaching the Roman fort. It and the clusters of mud-brick huts nearby were the only dwellings for many miles. Parthia’s population was not large, with less than a tenth of it living on its far eastern borders. Few chose to dwell here other than the garrisons of soldiers, and captives who had no choice.
They marched in silence, stopping occasionally to listen out for the Scythians. At last a familiar rectangular shape appeared out of the gloom. It was the fort.
A tiny sigh of relief escaped Romulus’ lips. He was colder than he could ever remember being. But once they were inside and warmed through again, Tarquinius might reveal what he had seen. The desire to know more was the only thing that had kept him going.
Brennus grinned. Even he was looking forward to a break.
On either side of the massive front gates sat a wooden guard tower. They were matched by similar ones on the corners and smaller observation posts in between. The walls had been constructed from closely packed earth, a useful by-product from the construction of the three deep ditches which surrounded the fort. Filled with spiked iron caltrops, the fossae were also within range of missiles thrown or fired from the timber walkway that ran along the inside of the ramparts. The only passage through them was the beaten-down dirt track to the entrance in the middle of each side.
They tramped down it, expecting to be challenged at any moment.
Surprisingly the huge fort was not a fighting structure: legionaries did not hide behind the protection of walls by choice. The impressive defences were to be used only in the case of unexpected attack. If an enemy presented itself, the officers would marshal the men together on the intervallum, the flat area that ran around the inside of the walls, before marching out to do battle. On open ground, the legionary was the master of all other infantry. And with Tarquinius’ tactics and training, thought Romulus proudly, they could withstand the charge of any force, mounted or on foot.
Man for man, the Forgotten Legion could defeat any enemy.
‘Stop.’ Moving to Brennus’ side, Tarquinius checked Pacorus’ pulse.
‘Is he still alive?’ asked the Gaul.
‘Barely,’ answered Tarquinius, frowning. ‘We must hurry.’
Reality struck as Romulus took in Pacorus’ ashen features. Enough time had passed for the scythicon to do its deadly work. The commander would surely die soon and, as the sole survivors, they would be held responsible. No senior Parthian officer worth his salt would fail to punish the men who had allowed this to happen. They had escaped the Scythians to face certain execution.
Yet Tarquinius had wanted to save Pacorus. And Mithras had revealed a road back to Rome.
As a drowning man clings to a log, Romulus held on to those thoughts.
They were now less than thirty paces from the gate and within range of the sentries’ pila . Still no challenge had been issued to check their progress, which was most irregular. No one was allowed to approach the fort without identifying themselves.
‘The lazy dogs will be huddling around the fire,’ Romulus muttered. Sentinels were only supposed to stay in the warm guardroom at the base of each tower for short periods; just enough to thaw out numb fingers and toes. In practice, they did it as long as the junior officer in charge allowed.
‘Time to wake them up then.’ Raising his axe, Tarquinius stepped forward and
Fortunately, the weather aided their escape. Dense flurries of snow began to fall, severely reducing the visibility and covering their trail. There was no pursuit, and Romulus presumed that the Scythians knew how close their camp was. Although he did too, his keen sense of direction soon went awry; he was very glad that Tarquinius seemed to know exactly which way to go. The temperature was dropping even further as the snow began to collect on the ground. If they strayed even a small distance off course, there was little chance of ever reaching the Roman fort. It and the clusters of mud-brick huts nearby were the only dwellings for many miles. Parthia’s population was not large, with less than a tenth of it living on its far eastern borders. Few chose to dwell here other than the garrisons of soldiers, and captives who had no choice.
They marched in silence, stopping occasionally to listen out for the Scythians. At last a familiar rectangular shape appeared out of the gloom. It was the fort.
A tiny sigh of relief escaped Romulus’ lips. He was colder than he could ever remember being. But once they were inside and warmed through again, Tarquinius might reveal what he had seen. The desire to know more was the only thing that had kept him going.
Brennus grinned. Even he was looking forward to a break.
On either side of the massive front gates sat a wooden guard tower. They were matched by similar ones on the corners and smaller observation posts in between. The walls had been constructed from closely packed earth, a useful by-product from the construction of the three deep ditches which surrounded the fort. Filled with spiked iron caltrops, the fossae were also within range of missiles thrown or fired from the timber walkway that ran along the inside of the ramparts. The only passage through them was the beaten-down dirt track to the entrance in the middle of each side.
They tramped down it, expecting to be challenged at any moment.
Surprisingly the huge fort was not a fighting structure: legionaries did not hide behind the protection of walls by choice. The impressive defences were to be used only in the case of unexpected attack. If an enemy presented itself, the officers would marshal the men together on the intervallum, the flat area that ran around the inside of the walls, before marching out to do battle. On open ground, the legionary was the master of all other infantry. And with Tarquinius’ tactics and training, thought Romulus proudly, they could withstand the charge of any force, mounted or on foot.
Man for man, the Forgotten Legion could defeat any enemy.
‘Stop.’ Moving to Brennus’ side, Tarquinius checked Pacorus’ pulse.
‘Is he still alive?’ asked the Gaul.
‘Barely,’ answered Tarquinius, frowning. ‘We must hurry.’
Reality struck as Romulus took in Pacorus’ ashen features. Enough time had passed for the scythicon to do its deadly work. The commander would surely die soon and, as the sole survivors, they would be held responsible. No senior Parthian officer worth his salt would fail to punish the men who had allowed this to happen. They had escaped the Scythians to face certain execution.
Yet Tarquinius had wanted to save Pacorus. And Mithras had revealed a road back to Rome.
As a drowning man clings to a log, Romulus held on to those thoughts.
They were now less than thirty paces from the gate and within range of the sentries’ pila . Still no challenge had been issued to check their progress, which was most irregular. No one was allowed to approach the fort without identifying themselves.
‘The lazy dogs will be huddling around the fire,’ Romulus muttered. Sentinels were only supposed to stay in the warm guardroom at the base of each tower for short periods; just enough to thaw out numb fingers and toes. In practice, they did it as long as the junior officer in charge allowed.
‘Time to wake them up then.’ Raising his axe, Tarquinius stepped forward and
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