And he could do nothing about it.

Utter helplessness swamped Tarquinius, and weakened by his wounds and the cold, he succumbed to unconsciousness.

Chapter XIII: Betrayal

Margiana, winter 53/52 BC

Romulus’ first awareness was of the terrible pain that filled his head. Great waves of it washed over him, utterly draining his energy. Then there would be a short lag phase before another hit. After an age, he felt able to move again. By gently wriggling them, Romulus could feel his fingers and his toes. They were not warm, but at least they still functioned. Aware that he was lying flat on a rough stone floor, the young soldier gingerly opened his eyes.

There was a low roof almost within hand’s reach. It was a cave. Turning his head, the first thing Romulus saw was Brennus’ muscular back, bending over a small fire. Relief filled him. They were still free. Mithras had saved their lives after all.

‘Where are we?’ Romulus croaked, his throat dry with thirst.

The Gaul spun on his heel, a wide grin splitting his blood-covered face. ‘Belenus be thanked!’ he cried. ‘I wasn’t sure if your skull had been cracked.’

Romulus lifted a hand to the back of his head and probed gently. ‘Don’t think so,’ he replied, wincing as his fingers found a fist-sized lump just above the hairline. ‘Damn painful though.’

‘Thankfully this took the worst of it,’ said Brennus, lifting a battered lump of bronze which Romulus vaguely recognised as his helmet. ‘I had difficulty getting it off.’

‘What happened?’

‘It was Primitivus,’ revealed Brennus, his breath visible in the chill air. ‘Crept up and hit you from behind. I slew the fool immediately, but you had already gone down.’

The veterans would stop at nothing. Romulus shook his head in confusion, releasing another wave of agony. ‘Are you injured?’

‘No,’ said the Gaul. ‘This is Primitivus’ blood.’

Romulus was very relieved. ‘How in Hades did we get away?’

‘With Primitivus gone, Novius and his mates tried to make a break for it. Two or three others ran too,’ said Brennus. ‘It distracted many of the Scythians. The remainder were busy attacking what few of our lot weren’t killed or injured. Somehow I was sure that it wasn’t my time to die. I wasn’t sure you were dead either, so I fell down and pulled Primitivus on top of me. The enemy cavalry drove forward, leaving us on open ground. The fighting went on for some time, and no one was looking back. It was just a matter of carrying you over the nearest rise and out of view. After taking a breather, I went up into the broken ground. Found this cave about half a mile away.’

The young soldier could only marvel at his friend’s strength. The distance Brennus had mentioned so casually would have crippled any other man. ‘What about the rest?’

The Gaul’s face darkened. ‘Gone,’ he said heavily. ‘I looked back once and there were maybe fifteen men still standing. But the Scythians were swarming around them like rats. They had no chance.’

Romulus closed his eyes. Even though the legionaries had recently made them outcasts, he felt genuine grief. They had been serving in the same century for over six months, and in the same army for over two years.

‘It wasn’t for nothing,’ growled Brennus. ‘They bought us enough time to escape.’

‘That makes it even worse.’

‘Our burden is heavier because of it,’ Brennus agreed, remembering his uncle’s sacrifice.

‘And just think what the Scythians will do to the bodies.’

‘Don’t think about that. Our getting away means that the gods have not totally forgotten us. We live to fight another day.’

‘True,’ admitted Romulus. ‘What about Novius and the others? Did they make it?’

Brennus’ face darkened. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Let’s hope not.’

Without blankets, food or equipment, the friends had no choice but to leave the small cave behind. All it provided was shelter and slight relief from the bitter weather. And news of the Scythian incursion had to be carried back quickly. The raiders would attack again soon, perhaps even at the fort. Using the bright stars to guide their path, they tracked steadily west. There was no sign of the enemy, meaning their escape had probably gone unseen. It was just as well. Brennus had retained his longsword, but all Romulus had to defend himself with was his pugio. Neither had shields. An encounter with the fierce warriors would have only one outcome.

The rest in the cave did not sustain Romulus for long on the freezing, difficult march. With his pounding headache, the young soldier was very grateful for Brennus’ broad shoulder to lean on. As time passed, his strength returned somewhat, as did his determination. Besides, marching was the best way to keep even slightly warm. Under their cloaks, their chain mail was an icy deadweight, while their exposed lower legs were chilled to the bone. Sweat condensed instantly on their brows, and the air was so cold that every breath hurt.

When the outline of the crucifix finally appeared, Romulus felt great relief. Reaching it meant that their suffering was nearly over. But by starlight, the frozen body was even more terrifying. It was impossible not to stare at it as they walked past. Flesh now picked from his bones, the legionary was little more than a skeleton. Even his internal organs had been consumed by the hungry vultures. Teeth grinned from a lipless mouth; empty eye sockets seemed to watch their every step. This time though, Romulus saw nothing beyond the bare bones. But the memory of what he’d seen before burned brightly in his mind. And Tarquinius had seen a path home. Mithras, he prayed. Help me return to Rome.

Brennus made the sign against evil. ‘Not a good way to go, eh?’

Romulus shook his head, making his headache worse than ever. ‘No bastard is ever going to do that to me.’

‘Nor me,’ swore Brennus.

Yet crucifixion was one of the punishments they might receive on their return. It was impossible to predict how the volatile primus pilus would react to their cataclysmic news. ‘What should we do?’

‘Trust the gods,’ Brennus advised. ‘Tell the truth. We’ve done nothing wrong.’

Romulus sighed, unable to think of anything else. Brennus’ faith carried him through situations like they were in now. Normally Romulus struggled with this simple approach. Here in god-forsaken Margiana, death seemed the only certainty in life. But they had survived the ambush, and he gave Mithras the full credit for that. Otherwise Brennus would have fought to the death. Afterwards, both of them would have been beheaded by the Scythians.

They tramped on in grim silence.

By the time the fort’s reassuring shape came into sight, the sky was lightening. This time, a vigilant sentry challenged the pair long before they reached the main entrance. Brennus’ bellowed answer, his simple horsehair-crested helmet and their obvious Roman uniforms were enough to see the gate opened. They had reached safety.

Or so they thought.

The pair received none of the welcome they might have expected when the portal creaked ajar. Instead the waiting faces were full of anger and contempt. The instant they had passed within, a ring of legionaries formed around them, their gladii and shields raised threateningly.

‘Hold on a moment,’ bristled Brennus. ‘What’s going on?’

‘The Scythians out there are the damn enemy, not us,’ added Romulus.

‘Really?’ spat a grizzled soldier with one eye. ‘Cowards!’

‘What?’ responded Romulus disbelievingly. ‘Brennus fought his way free. He saved my life!’

‘Liar,’ shouted another sentry.

‘You ran and left your comrades to die,’ cried a third.

‘Novius got back before us,’ Romulus whispered to Brennus, horrified. ‘The scabby shitbag!’ And Brennus escaped because the gods told him to, he told himself.