Free The Silver Eagle by Ben Kane

dark eyes revealed little. He turned back to Romulus.
    ‘The commander and Tarquinius survived because they were in the Mithraeum,’ Romulus went on. ‘Brennus and I fought our way to the entrance to try and rescue them.’
    The officer waited in stony silence.
    ‘Pacorus was hit as we were about to escape,’ said Romulus, guiltily remembering his delay in handing over his scutum . If Pacorus lived, he would remember that. But that particular bridge would have to be crossed if it appeared. At least he wasn’t the one with three poison arrows in his flesh. ‘And Brennus carried him back anyway.’
    ‘Why?’ The Parthian sneered. ‘ Scythicon kills everyone. What do you care if the commander dies?’
    Unsure what to say, Romulus tensed.
    ‘He is our leader,’ protested Tarquinius. ‘Without him, the Forgotten Legion is nothing.’
    Disbelief flared in the other’s eyes. ‘Expect me to swallow that?’ he growled. There was little reason for any of the Romans to care about the health of their captors. Especially Pacorus. Every man present knew it.
    ‘I can help Pacorus. Delay me any longer,’ Tarquinius announced, ‘and you risk being the cause of his death.’
    Outwitted, the officer stepped back. Having witnessed the extent of his superior’s injuries, he did not want to be accused later of slowing Pacorus’ treatment. However odd the situation might seem, there was only one man in the fort capable of saving their commander.
    Tarquinius.
    ‘Let them pass!’ the Parthian ordered.
    His men raised their weapons and one quickly opened the heavy gate, allowing Tarquinius and the others inside. The atrium was simply built, with a baked brick floor rather than the ornate mosaic it would have had in Rome. Unsurprisingly, nobody was to be seen. An austere man for all his cruelty, Pacorus needed few servants.
    ‘Bring my leather bag from the valetudinarium ,’ the haruspex cried, leading the way through the tablinum and into the courtyard. ‘Fast!’
    Shouted commands followed them as the officer sent men running to obey.
    Word was also being rushed to the senior centurions, thought Romulus sourly. If they weren’t already on their way. He swallowed, offering a fervent prayer to Mithras, a deity he knew little of. And although worshipped by the Parthians, the god had apparently shown Tarquinius a way out of here. There had to be a solution to their increasingly desperate situation. But Romulus could not see it. Help us, Mithras, he prayed. Guide us.
    In Pacorus’ large bedroom, they found a fire already burning. Its flames lit up thick wall carpets and embroidered cushions scattered on the floor. Apart from some iron-bound storage chests, a bed covered in animal skins was the only piece of furniture. Startled by their sudden arrival, two servants, local peasants, jumped up guiltily from the floor in front of the brick fireplace. Warming themselves in their master’s quarters would be rewarded with a severe flogging at the least. Their mouths opened with shock and a little relief when they saw Pacorus lying over Brennus’ shoulder. There would be no punishment today.
    ‘Make light,’ snapped Tarquinius. ‘Bring clean blankets and sheets. And plenty of boiling water.’
    The fearful men did not dare answer. One scurried off while the other lit a taper and touched it to each of the bronze oil lamps positioned around the walls. The illumination revealed a wooden shrine in one corner. It was covered with the stubs of candles: like anyone else, Pacorus needed the gods sometimes. Sitting on it was a small statue of a cloaked man in a blunt-peaked Phrygian hat, twisting the head of a kneeling bull upwards towards the knife gripped in his free hand. The god was unfamiliar to Romulus, yet he somehow knew who it was. ‘Mithras?’ he breathed.
    Tarquinius nodded.
    Romulus bent his head in respect, praying hard.
    Aided by Felix, Brennus moved towards the bed.
    Tarquinius eyed the figurine curiously. Before entering