Wounds of Honour: Empire I by Anthony Riches Read Free Book Online

praetorian camp by a date no more than six weeks from now will result in your immediate loss of senatorial rank, and the declaration of your entire family as proletarians, to the most distant cousin, with confiscation of all assets. I’ll send a message back by fast courier warning the praetorians of your return, and when they should expect your arrival. That is all.’
    The centurion, sensing the numbness of shock in the young man’s hesitation, grasped Marcus firmly by the upper arm, leading him out of the office and back to the waiting escort. They marched back out to the main gate, where the watch was being changed with all the usual noise and disturbance. The centurion looked around him at the ordered chaos, and then pulled Marcus into a small guardroom, dismissing the legionaries inside with the order to go off duty with their fellows. In the meagre yellow light of the oil lamps that lit the stone-walled room he seemed larger than he had in the brightly lit commander’s residence, squat and menacing in the bulk of his armour. Marcus found his voice at last, slowly starting to recover from the initial shock and finding anger where there had initially been only fear.
    ‘Is this where I get the beating you promised me earlier? Don’t you need your men with you to make it completely one sided?’
    The other man swept his helmet off, dropping it on to the table with a clatter, running a hand nervously across his balding scalp.
    ‘Button it. We’ve got less than five minutes before your horse is ready, and I’ve had to bribe the stable master to get that much time.’
    The sudden change in his tone put Marcus, who had been readying himself for a fight, off balance once more.
    ‘What …’
    The centurion prodded a broad finger into his chest, urgency fuelling his irritation.
    ‘Shut up and listen ! You’re being turned loose, alone, before dawn, to make your disposal as easy as possible. You think it’s usual for enemies of the state to be sent back to Rome alone, no matter what threats might be made to their families? Most criminals would think of their own necks before those of their loved ones. This is just a set-up to get you out of the way, out into the dark. You were supposed to get killed on the road yesterday, but the locals apparently managed to cock that one up. The men waiting out there for you now won’t make the same mistake. You ride out of here alone, and you’ll be lucky to get five miles before that bastard Perennis’s tame cavalry cut-throats take you and slit your throat, steal your purse and your horse, and leave you in the dirt for the morning patrols to find. Do you fancy that for an epitaph, “Killed by robbers”?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Well, that’s a start. You know how to use a sword and shield on horseback?’
    ‘Yes. I was trained in …’
    ‘I know. Listen, half a mile down the road you’ll come on a stunted tree growing over a large rock, on the right. Look behind the tree and you’ll find a cavalry sword and shield. Ride on, as fast as the moonlight lets you, and stop for nobody . At the two-mile marker you’ll be met by …’
    A solid knock rattled the room’s wooden door.
    ‘Centurion! The traitor’s horse is ready.’
    The officer nodded at Marcus, grabbing his helmet and replacing it on his head before replying.
    ‘Good! I’ll bring the little turd out.’
    He cocked a solid-looking fist.
    ‘… you’ll be met by friends. Sorry, but this needs to look like the real thing.’
    The swift punch stung Marcus’s right eye; the heavy slap that followed cut his upper lip against his teeth. The officer pulled him to his feet, whispering urgently in his ear.
    ‘Stop for no one until the two-mile marker!’
    ‘But who’s meeting me?’
    ‘You’ll know when you get there! And once we’re outside keep your mouth shut, unless you want me nailed up alongside you.’
    He paused to fill his lungs.
    ‘Right, you bastard traitor, let’s be about it!!’
    He slammed the door