thousand men. Ranged against them would be a possible thirty thousand. Alternatively, they could recall a legion from the south, but the Gods knew how badly the general Ambrosius needed men around Dubris and Londinium.
The third choice was to recruit and train a new militia, but this would be the same as sending children out against wolves. The Brigante and their vassal tribes were renowned warriors.
Victorinus dismissed the Nubian slave, Oretia, and climbed from his bed. He dressed and made his way to the central room, where he found Prasamaccus sitting by the far window staring out over the moonlit southern hills.
'Good evening,' said Victorinus. 'How are you faring?'
'Well, thank you. You seem tired?' "There is much to do. Does Helga please you?'
'Yes, very much.'
Victorinus poured himself a goblet of watered wine. It was almost midnight and his eyes ached for the sleep he knew would evade him. It annoyed him that the Briton was still here after six days.
He had only invited him so as to offset the rough treatment he had received in being gaoled, otherwise he would have placed him in the barracks with Gwalchmai. Now it looked as if he had a permanent house guest. The small fortress town was alive with rumours concerning the Brigante -
all had him marked as a prince at the very least. Grephon had purchased some new clothes for him and these only added to the image: the softest cream wool edged with braid, leather troos decorated with silver discs, and fine riding-boots of softest doeskin.
'What is your problem?' asked Prasamaccus. 'Would that there were only one.' "There is always one larger than the others,' said the Brigante.
Victorinus shrugged and explained - though he knew not why - the problems with the militia men.
Prasamaccus sat silently as the Roman outlined the choices.
'How much of this coin is available for the men?' he asked.
'It is not a great sum - perhaps a month's extra pay.'
'If you allow some of the men home, the amount for each man left would grow, yes?'
'Of course.'
'Then make known the total mount on offer and tell the men they can go home. But explain that the coin will be distributed amongst those who choose to remain.'
'What will that serve? What if only one man remains? He would be as rich as Crassus.'
'Exactly,' agreed Prasamaccus, though he had no idea who Crassus was.
'I do not follow you.'
'No, that is because you are rich. Most men dream of riches. Myself, I have always wanted two horses. But the men who want to go home will now have to wonder how much they lose by doing so.
What if - as you say - only one is left? Or ten?'
'How many do you think will remain?'
'More than half - if they are anything like the Brigantes I have known.'
'It would entail great risk to do as you suggest, but I feel it is wise counsel. We will attempt it. Where did you learn such guile?'
'It is the Earth Mother's gift to lonely men,' answered Prasamaccus.
His advice was proved right when 3,000 men chose to stay, earning an extra two months' pay per man. It eased Victorinus' burden and earned him plaudits from Aquila.
Three days later an unexpected guest arrived at the villa. It was Maedhlyn - hot, dusty and irritable from his ride. An hour later, refreshed by a hot bath and several goblets of warmed wine, he sat talking for some time with Victorinus. Then they summoned Prasamaccus. When the Brigante saw the portly Enchanter his heart sank. He sat quietly, refusing the wine Victorinus offered.
Maedhlyn sat opposite him, fixing him with his hawk-like eyes.
'We have a problem, Prasamaccus, one which we think you will be able to solve. There is a young man trapped in Brigante territory far to the north of the Antonine Wall in the Cale-dones mountains. He is important to us and we want him brought homCi Now, we cannot send our own men, for they do not know the land. But you do, and could travel there without suspicion.'
Prasamaccus said nothing, but now he reached for the wine and took a deep
The third choice was to recruit and train a new militia, but this would be the same as sending children out against wolves. The Brigante and their vassal tribes were renowned warriors.
Victorinus dismissed the Nubian slave, Oretia, and climbed from his bed. He dressed and made his way to the central room, where he found Prasamaccus sitting by the far window staring out over the moonlit southern hills.
'Good evening,' said Victorinus. 'How are you faring?'
'Well, thank you. You seem tired?' "There is much to do. Does Helga please you?'
'Yes, very much.'
Victorinus poured himself a goblet of watered wine. It was almost midnight and his eyes ached for the sleep he knew would evade him. It annoyed him that the Briton was still here after six days.
He had only invited him so as to offset the rough treatment he had received in being gaoled, otherwise he would have placed him in the barracks with Gwalchmai. Now it looked as if he had a permanent house guest. The small fortress town was alive with rumours concerning the Brigante -
all had him marked as a prince at the very least. Grephon had purchased some new clothes for him and these only added to the image: the softest cream wool edged with braid, leather troos decorated with silver discs, and fine riding-boots of softest doeskin.
'What is your problem?' asked Prasamaccus. 'Would that there were only one.' "There is always one larger than the others,' said the Brigante.
Victorinus shrugged and explained - though he knew not why - the problems with the militia men.
Prasamaccus sat silently as the Roman outlined the choices.
'How much of this coin is available for the men?' he asked.
'It is not a great sum - perhaps a month's extra pay.'
'If you allow some of the men home, the amount for each man left would grow, yes?'
'Of course.'
'Then make known the total mount on offer and tell the men they can go home. But explain that the coin will be distributed amongst those who choose to remain.'
'What will that serve? What if only one man remains? He would be as rich as Crassus.'
'Exactly,' agreed Prasamaccus, though he had no idea who Crassus was.
'I do not follow you.'
'No, that is because you are rich. Most men dream of riches. Myself, I have always wanted two horses. But the men who want to go home will now have to wonder how much they lose by doing so.
What if - as you say - only one is left? Or ten?'
'How many do you think will remain?'
'More than half - if they are anything like the Brigantes I have known.'
'It would entail great risk to do as you suggest, but I feel it is wise counsel. We will attempt it. Where did you learn such guile?'
'It is the Earth Mother's gift to lonely men,' answered Prasamaccus.
His advice was proved right when 3,000 men chose to stay, earning an extra two months' pay per man. It eased Victorinus' burden and earned him plaudits from Aquila.
Three days later an unexpected guest arrived at the villa. It was Maedhlyn - hot, dusty and irritable from his ride. An hour later, refreshed by a hot bath and several goblets of warmed wine, he sat talking for some time with Victorinus. Then they summoned Prasamaccus. When the Brigante saw the portly Enchanter his heart sank. He sat quietly, refusing the wine Victorinus offered.
Maedhlyn sat opposite him, fixing him with his hawk-like eyes.
'We have a problem, Prasamaccus, one which we think you will be able to solve. There is a young man trapped in Brigante territory far to the north of the Antonine Wall in the Cale-dones mountains. He is important to us and we want him brought homCi Now, we cannot send our own men, for they do not know the land. But you do, and could travel there without suspicion.'
Prasamaccus said nothing, but now he reached for the wine and took a deep
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