experiences.
‘Lupus … you shouldn’t—’
The boy shook his head flatly.
‘Not you, Arminius! The women can tell me that it’s not good to hate, but not you! You helped the Centurion to take revenge for his parents, you told me he was an honourable man for doing so!’
The German regarded him levelly for a moment before speaking.
‘So, ignoring the fact that you’re sworn to kill the emperor and half the praetorian guard, what do you expect to contribute to this task that the tribune’s been handed by the very man you’re determined to see dead?’
Lupus stuck his chin out.
‘My sword and shield. I’ve been practising with Centurion Cotta’s men ever since you left, and I’m as good as any of them except when they use their strength to push me over, when they get bored with not being able to beat me.’
Arminius smiled despite himself, recalling Cotta’s summary of the things the men he’d set to guard the two women while the cohort was in the east had told him about the boy’s progress with his weapons.
‘He’s fast alright. Faster than any of my boys, and someone’s taught him a halfway decent technique that I can probably get close to Marcus’s standard, given enough time.’ The veteran centurion had winked at the German’s wry smile, knowing full well that Arminius’s training had given the boy most of the sword skills he needed. ‘Once he’s grown another foot and filled out he’s going to be a right monster, you can see it in him already. It just amazes me that a squat little waddler like Morban can have sired the man who put that into a woman.’
His smile faded as he recalled Cotta’s other, less cheery comment.
‘Given you’re pretty much his father these days, there is something else for you to think about though. There’s something changed in the boy since the day Arabus was killed by the praetorians. Before it happened he was still a boy most of the time, when he wasn’t behind a shield and a sword, but from that day on my boys tell me they’ve not seen the child in him. He’s been brutalised, Arminius, had his childhood ripped away from him in a way that’s left him …’
‘Scarred?’
Cotta had nodded unhappily.
‘That’s as good a term as any other. I expect Marcus’s wife, the gods watch over her departed spirit, would have had a better term for it, but scarred covers it well enough. The boy’s gone, and what’s standing there is a man in a body that’s not quite ready to fight alongside men. But he will be, soon enough. And he’s going to need some help making the transition, if he’s not going to get himself killed before his time.’
Man and boy stared at each other in mutual unease for a moment before Arminius spoke again.
‘If you were to accompany us into Germania you’d be a boy among men. The tribune’s taking ten axes and ten bows, plus officers and a few hangers-on for skulking and thieving, every man with a purpose. Having you with us would be a distraction. You haven’t learned to fight with or against the spear yet, and that’s the weapon the tribes use for the most part.’
To his surprise the boy just shook his head, where a year before there would have been tears of frustration in his eyes.
‘So, you’re all going away again, only days after you came back. You, Centurion Marcus, my grandfather, all the people who promised to look after me. And what happens to me if you all get killed? I’ll be stuck here with no one to look out for me, other than Julius. Which means I’ll be a soldier soon enough and taking just the same risks, just without anyone to look after me.’ He stared the German in the eyes. ‘I’d rather die in Germany with you.’
3
Scaurus’s detachment paraded at dawn the next day ready to march, each man holding the reins of the horse he would ride north. The soldiers were wearing warm tunics and boots, their cloaks rolled up and strapped across saddlebags that contained everything they were likely to
‘Lupus … you shouldn’t—’
The boy shook his head flatly.
‘Not you, Arminius! The women can tell me that it’s not good to hate, but not you! You helped the Centurion to take revenge for his parents, you told me he was an honourable man for doing so!’
The German regarded him levelly for a moment before speaking.
‘So, ignoring the fact that you’re sworn to kill the emperor and half the praetorian guard, what do you expect to contribute to this task that the tribune’s been handed by the very man you’re determined to see dead?’
Lupus stuck his chin out.
‘My sword and shield. I’ve been practising with Centurion Cotta’s men ever since you left, and I’m as good as any of them except when they use their strength to push me over, when they get bored with not being able to beat me.’
Arminius smiled despite himself, recalling Cotta’s summary of the things the men he’d set to guard the two women while the cohort was in the east had told him about the boy’s progress with his weapons.
‘He’s fast alright. Faster than any of my boys, and someone’s taught him a halfway decent technique that I can probably get close to Marcus’s standard, given enough time.’ The veteran centurion had winked at the German’s wry smile, knowing full well that Arminius’s training had given the boy most of the sword skills he needed. ‘Once he’s grown another foot and filled out he’s going to be a right monster, you can see it in him already. It just amazes me that a squat little waddler like Morban can have sired the man who put that into a woman.’
His smile faded as he recalled Cotta’s other, less cheery comment.
‘Given you’re pretty much his father these days, there is something else for you to think about though. There’s something changed in the boy since the day Arabus was killed by the praetorians. Before it happened he was still a boy most of the time, when he wasn’t behind a shield and a sword, but from that day on my boys tell me they’ve not seen the child in him. He’s been brutalised, Arminius, had his childhood ripped away from him in a way that’s left him …’
‘Scarred?’
Cotta had nodded unhappily.
‘That’s as good a term as any other. I expect Marcus’s wife, the gods watch over her departed spirit, would have had a better term for it, but scarred covers it well enough. The boy’s gone, and what’s standing there is a man in a body that’s not quite ready to fight alongside men. But he will be, soon enough. And he’s going to need some help making the transition, if he’s not going to get himself killed before his time.’
Man and boy stared at each other in mutual unease for a moment before Arminius spoke again.
‘If you were to accompany us into Germania you’d be a boy among men. The tribune’s taking ten axes and ten bows, plus officers and a few hangers-on for skulking and thieving, every man with a purpose. Having you with us would be a distraction. You haven’t learned to fight with or against the spear yet, and that’s the weapon the tribes use for the most part.’
To his surprise the boy just shook his head, where a year before there would have been tears of frustration in his eyes.
‘So, you’re all going away again, only days after you came back. You, Centurion Marcus, my grandfather, all the people who promised to look after me. And what happens to me if you all get killed? I’ll be stuck here with no one to look out for me, other than Julius. Which means I’ll be a soldier soon enough and taking just the same risks, just without anyone to look after me.’ He stared the German in the eyes. ‘I’d rather die in Germany with you.’
3
Scaurus’s detachment paraded at dawn the next day ready to march, each man holding the reins of the horse he would ride north. The soldiers were wearing warm tunics and boots, their cloaks rolled up and strapped across saddlebags that contained everything they were likely to
Similar Books
