Read Online Vespasian: Tribune of Rome by Robert Fabbri - Free Book Online

towards him. He’d gone no further than five paces when two arrows simultaneously thumped into his back; he fell from his horse with a shriek and rolled along the ground, breaking off the arrow shafts, and came to a stop just short of Vespasian, his dead eyes staring unblinking at the sun.
    A cheer went up and Vespasian looked around realising that he was the last man standing. All the raiders were either dead or dying in the dust whilst the surviving horses waited patiently in little groups. He looked down at Sabinus who was clutching at his wounded shoulder; blood oozed through his fingers.
    ‘Well fought, little brother,’ he muttered through gritted teeth. ‘It seems that I have you to thank for saving my life, not that you ever thanked me for saving yours yesterday.’
    Vespasian held out his hand. ‘Well, you can consider yourself thanked now,’ he said, pulling Sabinus to his feet.
    ‘You can thank me properly by pulling this fucking thing out of my leg.’
    Vespasian knelt down to examine the wound. All around them cheering men were coming down from the roofs to put out the few fires that had taken hold and to slit the throats of those runaways still breathing.
    ‘Well done, my boys, that was a fine display,’ Titus called as he clambered down the ladder. ‘I trust that you are not too badly hurt, Sabinus?’
    ‘I’ll be fine, Father, I need a few stitches from Chloe, and—’ He let out a huge roar; Vespasian had used the distraction of his father to remove the javelin. Sabinus went pale and almost fainted. ‘Gods, that hurt, you little shit. I bet you really enjoyed that. Come on, get me into the house.’
    They hobbled towards the door that had been unbolted by their mother, who had heard the cheering. She stood waiting to help her son into the house.
    ‘Oh, by the way, wool,’ Sabinus mumbled.
    ‘What?’ Vespasian asked, thinking that his brother was rambling.
    ‘What we should be selling at the moment, wool. It’s in demand because winter’s approaching.’
    ‘Oh, yes, that. You’re quite right, well done for working it out,’ Vespasian replied.
    ‘I didn’t work it out, I just asked Pallo when we got back yesterday.’ Sabinus grinned. ‘Oh, and get that poultice seen to, you look ridiculous.’
    Vespasian looked with a half-smile at his brother and, shaking his head, thought that it was unlikely that he’d ever change. He left him in the care of the womenfolk.
    He turned and surveyed the scene in the yard. The fires were now out; just a few wisps of smoke marked where they had caught. The manacled field slaves were being let out of the storerooms and taken back to work. Pallo was organising the piling up of the dead runaways on a pyre outside the gates. Vespasian watched as his javelin was extracted from the top-knotted German and the body was hauled away, leaving a thick trail of blood. It had been his first kill and the thought didn’t shock him. He’d slit the throat of the second man without even thinking; he’d done what he’d had to do to survive and to protect his brother. Anyway, these had just been slaves whose lives were worth only what they would fetch at auction.
    Pallo saw him watching the removal of the dead, and walked over. ‘You did well today, Titus Flavius Vespasianus,’ he said formally, according him the respect of a man. ‘Your father must be proud.’
    ‘Thank you, Pallo, we all did our share; it was a well-conceived plan of my brother’s. How many of our lads were hurt?’
    ‘One killed and four wounded, none of them too badly.’
    ‘Who died?’ Vespasian asked.
    ‘Brennus, a Gallic house slave; he was hit in the eye by a javelin. His son Drest is one of the wounded,’ Pallo replied.
    ‘We should free the son, it will send a good message to the other slaves should this happen again. I’ll speak to my father.’
    As he turned to go a thought occurred to him. ‘Pallo?’ he asked, lowering his voice. ‘Do you know anything about a prophecy to do