Rivals in Blood Read online

  ‘Be careful!’ called the most experienced slave but Salvius knew the dangers.

  In his hands he held a simple rope halter that he kept hidden behind his back and moving closer he aimed to place this behind its ears and under its neck. Speaking quietly to it he crept slowly forward as the animal freely backed away until it felt the resistance of the fence behind and stopped. There the two adversaries now challenged each other to make the next move.

  ‘Husband, husband, come...help!’ called Faustina as loud as she could but her squealing cries went unanswered.

  ‘Husband, quickly...help’ she shouted again.

  There was only silence for a reply upon the wind instead so she chose to run and run. Chasing behind her were the iron rust haired men of the kind that she had not seen before and carrying weapons.

  Salvius encouraged the stallion to hold its ground stretching his hand out for it to sniff. No sudden moves were called for. He stroked its nose moving his hand slowly up its face and towards its ears. His intention was to slide the halter easily around its head and then tie it loosely as the animal accepted capture and submission. At that time all he could hear was his own nervous breath and all he could feel was the rhythmic rising and falling of his chest with fear. At any moment the horse could charge forward and run straight through him causing a severe injury, so he raised his arm slowly and towards sliding the halter behind the ears of the beast before him. Again speaking in low tones to it he also reminded his audience of on looking slaves to keep their voices down and not disturb the creature whose head, without warning, suddenly rose up in alarm. Without any thought of what was trying to be achieved there, it raced past Salvius rapidly trying to escape in its flight. With halter in hand but failure in mind, he desperately tried to get out of its way as its head swung down and its shoulders made solid contact with his to easily knock him into the grass floor where he lay slightly concussed. With the animal again snorting its alarm from the opposite side of the pen, and with it rigid with its own fear, others quickly jumped in to try and calm it before the panic spread. A few others helped Salvius get to his feet. The gate was opened and after being helped out he was put to rest on a low bank and given water. There was no thought of how close he was towards having achieved his aim but only the bitter recognition that things could change in an instance. Which god wasn’t protecting him today? Which god had he not appeased? Waving away the concerned protestations of his slaves he cupped his face within his bruised hands and stared into the light therein for comfort whilst a stranger started to cup his arms around his wife’s shoulders.

  ‘Salvius...come quickly’ he thought he heard her cry.

  ‘Salvius, Salvius...help me!’ She shouted.

  Her breath was strong yet set to fade.

  ‘Master...’ then reported his slaves together as they pointed towards a small clump of hazel.

  ‘Master; look over there!’

  In the distance of a stone’s throw were huddled five men, one of whom was attempting to drag Faustina away as she fought to resist. Deliberately falling to the ground she made herself as heavy and as unwieldy as she could despite her slender frame, kicking and screaming obscenities at her assailants. However, they were accustomed to fighting the mightier tides and currents of the sea with their oars so found her slight prey and an excitable one at that. One easily pulled her upright again and with her arm tightly gripped in his hand he drew her towards the shelter of the thin woodland that bordered the horse fields. Without any warning a jagged stone hit him on the back of the head making him recoil and look around for where it had come from. Instantly he raised his arm for protection. More stones then landed about him and his companions who were now aware that they had been seen but their accuracy was found lacking. If Salvius wanted his wife back then physically he had to go and get her for they weren’t going to let go.

  ‘Salvius!’ she cried again trying to look him directly in the face with her clothes torn and fine looks sullied.

  From his vantage point the attackers were outnumbered by his own slaves but they appeared sluggish and reluctant to have their tongues cut out for saving his wife.

  ‘Find more stones and throw them’ he commanded.

  Forgetting about the dull sickening pain that the stallion had so recently inflicted upon him he continued to bellow orders at them.

  ‘Come on...do as I order you to!’

  In some form of bravery they followed his instruction and moved as close to the enemy as they dare, but their strength gradually waned and the missiles began to fall far short. Seeing this, and noticing Faustina struggling less and less, coerced him into moving forward. There were no temples to Fortuna to pray at here or any altars for him to swop bravery for coinage, so he grabbed a large stick and shouting wildly ran towards the boat people who immediately recognised the danger and loosened their grip on the girl in order to repel the threat. Salvius was terrified but he didn’t know why; these warriors, although strangers to him were mortal and had blood running through them as he did. He had faced up to larger horses with the same raw fear but overcome it and so charged on.

  One man stepped forward taking an uncontrolled swing with his spear and uttering a strange curse before falling to the ground clutching his neck. Salvius had hit him hard at which point he stopped moving. Standing over him and staring, he didn’t know how to kill him; how to finish it. The others immediately sensing the malevolence in his attack threw the girl loose and forming a semi circle backed off before turning to flee. Faustina too, appeared a body of lifeless rags and was lying on the floor crying.

  Salvius, brandishing his only weapon and yelling, raced past her chasing the raiders until he was confident that they were out of range. He couldn’t see from where they had come from or where their boat was hidden but felt there could be others and that he ought to stop.

  ‘Go and torch the beacon!’ he shouted at the men following not so bravely behind him.

  ‘Be quick! Light the beacon so that it may be seen and bring me some rope.’

  Then he turned to comfort his wife who had managed to sit up and kneeling down gently attempted to place his arms around her. It was embarrassing trying to placate her whilst her attacker was in the throes of being tied up a short distance away but she wasn’t frightened of expressing herself.

  ‘Leave me alone! Your horses are nothing to me but mules!’ she hollered.

  ‘Don’t touch me! I was nearly taken by this barbarian and you hadn’t noticed.’

  Salvius chose not to disagree. Quickly looking around he gave direct instructions for the day’s work to cease and for a cart to be brought out for his wife. Nobody was to go after the boatmen but instead they were to take it in turns to scan the horizon for their return. One man, having rolled the bearded heavily cloaked attacker over, signalled that he was dead at which Salvius instructed him to bury the body in the shallowest pit possible and without giving any thought for dignity or ceremony.

  ‘Take any weapons’ he said as his wife painfully got to her feet and demanded that she be returned immediately to her father.

  ‘What sort of man can protect me?’ she asked bitterly as the distant forgotten memory of her mother’s disappearance rose to the surface.

  ‘What kind of man are you Salvius, my husband?’

  ‘Will you fight for me or allow me to go like a dream that has been disturbed?’

  ‘Do you remember your marriage vows and your gods?’

  Embarrassed by such barbs in front of his workers, he meekly nodded whilst helping her to walk away and letting her have her say. He would have his soon enough and before her father too.

  That meeting came weeks later as the two men with heads bowed, retreated respectfully from the small spring head shrine dedicated to the spirit of the place, and from where at the conclusion of their prayers they turned for the short walk back to the villa. The day was warm, the gardens were in blossom and so were Salvius’ thoughts, having ripened for an argument in defence of himself.
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br />   ‘You will have your chance to speak’ uttered Flavius Martinus and recognising Salvius’ impatience to be heard.

  ‘Just wait; my daughter Faustina isn’t here as you know so only I will hear your words. I have already listened to hers.’

  Not knowing what she had said and being given little opportunity to find out only served to make Salvius more determined. However he could also be ignorant and unaware of what he was saying himself.

  The pace slowed to a crawl allowing the vicarius to admire the splendour of the villa’s location. Nestled quietly in a shallow valley it occupied ground close to the small river but not so close as to be threatened by it. It was where he could retreat from the imperial demands placed upon him and where he could also influence people to his demands upon them. There were the baths available, the gardens and rich hunting of deer in the forests that clung to the valley sides. Neatly demarcating this ordered life were the low stone walls and ditches that penned in the estate’s income; its animals and its cereals. Every decorated family room had mosaic floors and contained the hypocaust that forced the cold away throughout the winter months whilst its kitchens throbbed with activity and carts came and went over the high ridge road from Sorviodunum bringing even more luxury.

  Salvius, thinking of his wedding, and not having been here before yearned for more of this life. He hadn’t invited himself to come but had been summoned via an official wooden tablet sealed with wax that had arrived at the farm making him feel distinctly unlike Flavius Martinus’ son in law and more like the condemned citizen that he wasn’t. Sensing that there was nothing special to be gained from the day he begrudgingly followed as Martinus made comment to a slave regarding the correct pruning of his fruit trees. To him he said nothing except a few moments later when he thought that Salvius had given up on any disagreements and his mind was wandering elsewhere.

  ‘Let’s go inside and talk in private’ he said and beckoned the young man to follow him into a white plastered room decorated with low crimson red panels rising up from the floor.

  Against the wall, and standing sentinel, were wooden shelves containing all the neatly arranged vellum book rolls required by a man of such stature as Martinus? After latching the door firmly shut he went to open one and reading directly in the sunlight from a window explained that it was a treaty on military affairs. Although the vicarius wasn’t a soldier its advice was worth noting.

  ‘Never act rashly and without thought...’ he said purposefully.

  ‘Lest you give away your advantages to the enemy.’

  He closed the roll carefully putting it back from where it had come from and instructed Salvius to sit down. Martinus sat opposite, slightly bowed and clasping his white hands together.

  ‘The people who attacked you were from the tribe of the Deisi; sea warriors from Hibernia’ he said knowledgeably before getting up again.

  Pre-empting his son in law’s next question he brought over another roll and carefully opened it upon his lap.

  ‘This is Britannia and this is Hispannia’ he continued outlining their shape with a manicured finger and hair plucked hand.

  ‘In between is the island of Hibernia, the land that the Romans have never sought to conquer. The general Gnaeus Julius Agricola thought of such an invasion over two and fifty years ago yet left it unfinished and therefore we are vulnerable along our western coast. We have forts and men but not enough. It is horses that the army needs; your horses. A fresh animal will always match a sail.’

  Martinus wasn’t required to be a strategist but had to have his excuses ready for why Britannia was failing at defending itself and took his opportunities at learning the faults of others. Salvius looked at the man before him and felt pity. He felt pity for the weak manicured hands that were unused to hard work, the tunic of the best cloth with the responsibilities that came in wearing it and the rules that he had to follow. More than most though, he felt pity because he had lost his wife possibly to the same barbarians from the west although he blamed the Saxons.

  ‘Sir, we need to speak about the attempted abduction of your daughter’ said Salvius.

  ‘Do we?’ questioned Martinus looking to avoid the issue and wanting to control the conversation himself.

  His reply had thrown the young man off guard. He was there to be punished.

  ‘I did my best at the time’ Salvius continued somewhat apologetically.

  ‘I know you did. You have displayed great courage and saved my daughter and for that I graciously thank you. There is no individual at fault except that we are all to blame.’

  His words were misunderstood by Salvius who had lost the initiative to argue against what Faustina had told him.

  ‘Where is Faustina, my wife? Is she joining us?’ he asked.

  Martinus took a moment to reflect on what had already been discussed and appeared to be inwardly thinking of the repercussions if ever repeated elsewhere. Salvius, on the other hand whilst accustomed to shouting orders at his slaves and getting a response, was growing impatient at his dithering.

  ‘Is there anything that I don’t know?’

  ‘Is there anything that you are not telling me?’ he asked out of ignorant honesty.

  ‘I am now your family as your only daughter is and I deserve to be included.’

  ‘Why are you protecting her?’

  Martinus, carefully rising to his feet weighed up telling a little of the complete truth which was only known to him. The sum knowledge of his daughter’s conversation was to remain private but the boy needed to be told something.

  ‘Faustina has gone away to stay with my friends for a little while and in order to reflect’ he said.

  ‘On our marriage?’

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘No. She tells me of the strength of her love for you. She is having other thoughts that could be...’ and there he wouldn’t commit to continuing.

  ‘Could be what...?’ Furiously shouted Salvius; thereafter apologising for his outburst.

  ‘What could she be?’

  There was an instant knock at the door and through which the house slave who had been alerted by the commotion entered followed by the vicarius’ bodyguard.

  ‘Is everything alright, Sir?’ he said, looking about the room for potential danger yet seeing Salvius defenceless and sitting down, map in hand.

  ‘Thank you. There is no trouble.’

  Having witnesses there he diplomatically added that Salvius was both hungry for knowledge and well as being hungry for food.

  ‘This young man could eat a stale map! Send him some fresh lunch.’

  Using that prompt as the end of their conversation he then discreetly left and shuffled off along the mosaic corridor and into his own private rooms leaving Salvius alone to make empty guesses as to the present fate of his wife. On his lap remained the crumpled borders of the roman provinces and names of places he had never heard of. For all he knew Faustina could be anywhere on it. A few moments later food arrived and whilst numbly picking his way through it, he was disturbed by Martinus returning. He appeared flustered.

  ‘I am wanted urgently and I need you to come too’ he said without elaborating and looking worried: His control slipping.

  The boy got straight to his feet.

  ‘Is it Faustina?’

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘Is she ill?’

  ‘No Salvius. A new emperor has arrived and without any warning in Londinium: Flavius Magnus Magnentius Augustus, and he has requested to talk with me. This may be your chance to impress. Quickly finish eating whilst I prepare and then meet me outside the walls.’

  It took a little while to pack the necessary correspondence of the province that Martinus had been working on into a trunk and load it onto a wagon. He would travel inside with his secretary to discuss any faults that may be evident in the accounts whilst Salvius was instructed to ride behind on horseback. With short rest and changes at Sorviodunum, Leucomagus, Calleva Atrebatum and Pontes the party would aim to arri
ve in the capital in three days time. Fast riders were therefore alerted to go ahead with the written authority to provide the emperor with whatever he so wished in the vicarius’ absence, and to inform him that Martinus was responding in all haste. The emperor Flavius Julius Constans Augustus had also travelled to the island seven years earlier but on that occasion they had not met as his visit was brief and painted in secrecy. Britannia was seldom bothered by affairs across Oceanus yet often unfairly bore the repercussions. What could Magnentius want?

  The track from the villa up to the high ridge was steep yet once climbed the broad road easily split the landscape open and Salvius could see far towards the east and Sorviodunum. Having then dipped into the river valleys it rose again and continued flat and level but the views were lost and the party trudged on wearily. There was no opportunity for conversation to be had and if there was then it was only of intrigue and suspicion from within the carriage. Towards Calleva Atrebatum and then past it the views returned briefly as the milestones recorded the proximity of their destination and then having crossed Fluvius Thamesis at Pontes, Londinium came to mind. The journey hadn’t been quick and Martinus was worried at what the new emperor had been looking for in the palace. Would his staff act as instructed in these matters and hide incriminating documents or would they capitulate at the surprise visit and give his secrets away? The carriage came to a stop and the two men within stepped out. Salvius vaulted from his saddle with the excitable vigour that only a youth could have done having ridden for three days, and then generously commended to the slave attending to the horse that it was a good one.