Read Online Thunder of the Gods by Anthony Riches - Free Book Online Page B

lunge with a look of resignation.
    ‘You mean I must be the man who rode away when his cohort was ambushed and massacred by the Parthians?’
    Marcus nodded.
    ‘Why else would you be pushing yourself so hard in the heat of the day, when your fellow officers are probably all indulging in rather more relaxed pastimes given the stories the soldiers at the road gate told me?’
    Varus propped the shield against the wooden post, crossing his arms with the blunt sword blade pointing back over one shoulder.
    ‘I know what you’re thinking. I see it in every man’s face, when they realise who I am. I’m the officer who ran from battle, and left his men to die. The man who saved his own life on the pretext of bringing the news of the Parthian attack back to the legion.’
    ‘Whereas …?’
    Varus snorted.
    ‘Whereas
what
? You want to hear my side of the story? You want me to tell you how my senior centurion implored me to bring the story of their glorious fight to the death back to the legion? I’m tired of the sound of my own voice, and of trying to convince myself that I didn’t just run for my life.’
    He stared at Marcus, his expression close to pleading.
    ‘That I didn’t agree to his request simply because I’m a coward. So why would I waste my time on you, when you’re not going to believe it either?’
    Marcus shrugged again.
    ‘So what’s the truth of it?’
    Varus stared back at him.
    ‘The
truth
of it? The truth of it is that I was ready to die, friend, ready in an instant. And yes, I know it would have been a hard death if they’d managed to take me alive, but I would have fallen on my own sword if it came to that. And then the first spear asked me to leave, and showed me a way to avoid that ignominious death, and I took it, like a … like a
fucking
coward! I grabbed it and I ran for my life. Can you imagine that, you with your scars, and your two swords, and your Britannia, Germania and Dacia?’
    Marcus smiled wryly.
    ‘Of course I can. Any soldier who says he hasn’t considered running at some point or other is nothing more than a liar. So now you wish you’d stayed and shared that glorious death with your fellow soldiers, do you?’
    Varus nodded mutely, and Marcus smiled at him without humour.
    ‘In that case, Tribune, you may have your wish granted soon enough.’
    He turned away and walked towards the house with Varus following. In the villa’s airy atrium a servant hurried up with a bowl of water.
    ‘He wants to take your equipment, and wash your feet.’
    Marcus waved the man away with a reassuring smile.
    ‘I’m not staying that long, thank you.’
    He followed the sound of voices into the house’s central courtyard, stopping at the sight of a swimming pool with seven men in their twenties reclining on benches around the edge, their attention fixed on a trio of naked women floating in the pool’s crystal-clear water.
    ‘What’s this, Varus? Have you found yet another new pair of ears for your story of how you ran away when the Parthians came knocking? And who’s this oaf without the good manners even to disarm himself before coming into the house, never mind take his boots off?’
    The speaker had risen to a sitting position and was eying Marcus with a look of disparagement. The man reclining to his left, his tunic marked with an identical broad purple stripe to his comrade’s, spoke without looking up from his study of the girls’ naked bodies as the pool’s rippling water caressed their pale flesh.
    ‘Control yourself, Flamininus. Whoever you are, state your business and be on your way.’
    Marcus looked at them each in turn, unconsciously taking stock of each man with a swift, ruthless assessment, as his gladiator mentor had taught him a decade before:
    ‘Some men will fight, young Marcus, and some men won’t. Some will fight just for the hell of it, while others will have to be looking down the blade of a sword before they’ll raise their own weapons. And the secret to