Free The Sword of Revenge by Jack Ludlow Page B

they did stay at a post-house, Flaccus knew that he would probably wake in the morning to find acouple of women and several flagons of drink added to his bill.
    He turned to Dedon and gave him a grim smile. ‘I’m thinkin’ of paying a call, though I doubt I’ll be welcome.’
    Toger grinned, his tiny yellowed teeth making a sharp contrast with the thick red lips. ‘Who cares about that?’
    They turned off the busy road slightly further south and started to ask for directions. Perhaps if Dabo had been less crabbed he might have had on his side the natural hostility of country folk for strangers, let alone a band of men such as these. That would have guaranteed a dumb response to questions about the location of his farm, but his grasping nature, as well as his parsimony, had become a local byword, so even people who had had no dealings with him, and therefore no real cause to dislike him, were happy to direct Flaccus to the right place.
    The builders, Mellio and Balbus, were near to finishing for the day and, still working on the roof, they were the first to see the small band of armed men approach. What they observed made them hurry to put away their tools and for once their attitude to Aquila was as dusty as the boy himself. An air of impending trouble seemed to emanate from the horsemen as they rode into the compound, hauling their mounts to in front of the main sectionof the house. Minca stood, his tail stretched out behind him, the ruff along his back proud, a sure sign of danger. The workmen left from the back of the building, taking care to keep out of sight. Dabo, who had come out to greet these visitors, hurried back into the house having looked them over, sending a slave to fetch everyone in from the fields.
    ‘Greetings,’ he said when he re-emerged, squinting up at Flaccus, astride his horse with the sinking sun behind him.
    ‘I’m looking for a fellow called Piscius Dabo.’
    The idea of lying crossed Dabo’s mind but he dismissed it, sure that this man knew he was at the right farm. Besides Aquila had jumped down from the uncompleted roof and wandered over to stand beside him. The dog loped across the compound and took station by the boy’s leg, his presence causing some of the horses to shy away till Aquila took him by the ear, said something quietly in that heathen tongue he had learnt from the Celtic shepherd who had owned the animal, and Minca sat down.
    ‘That’s me,’ Dabo replied with an air of confidence he certainly did not feel. ‘And who might I be addressin’?’
    ‘Says it all really. Here he is, Piscius Dabo of the 10th, a legionary Hastari , who has just spent years fighting in Illyricum, and he don’t recognise his own centurion.’
    ‘Is this some kind of joke?’
    ‘It’s no joke to Clodius Terentius,’ replied Flaccus coldly.
    The name froze Dabo’s blood but it acted very differently on Aquila, who rushed forward and grabbed at the greave on Flaccus’s leg. ‘You know him?’
    Flaccus looked down at the dust-covered boy, his hair standing on end, full of red stone mixed with sweat. Then Dabo spoke, his voice hard and commanding. ‘Get back in the house, Aquila.’
    Minca, suddenly on his feet, growled at Dabo’s tone. Flaccus looked at him, then back at the boy. ‘Aquila? Is this Clodius’s youngster?’
    ‘In the house,’ shouted Dabo again, ignoring the threatening sound of the dog beside him.
    Aquila was long used to ignoring Dabo but something unusual in the voice had him halfway to complying. He turned to go, but Flaccus’s words, matter of fact and free from emotion, stopped him.
    ‘Lad ought to know that his Papa’s dead, Dabo, don’t you think?’ Aquila spun round and grabbed the leg again, his red-rimmed eyes looking up pleadingly at the grey-haired centurion. Flaccus continued in the same flat tone. ‘Killed at a place called Thralaxas, along with the rest of my men. Heroes all of them, you might say.’ He must have seen the pain but the voice