Over the next few days Maximus set about planning what he was going to do. He was going to have to capture Brynmor and Arrianus when the horse agent came to pick up the horses and make sure neither of them were killed. It would depend, he supposed, how eager Arrianus was to betray Domitianus. Without a confession there was nothing to link them to the Cohort Commander apart from anything that was tortured out of the Selgovan boy, and he really didn’t want that to happen to him.

Marcius agreed that it would be best to take half the ala, leaving the other half to take care of things at the fort in case they got nasty. In the meantime, Maximus did his best to avoid Domitianus, he knew his feelings would be quite clear to the other man, and he didn’t want to warn him that something was up. It was difficult given that they worked in the same building a lot of the time, but he tried to spend as much time as possible out on patrol, and down on the training ground.

**************

Five days after Arrianus had left, a dispatch rider returned to the fort from the south a not unusual occurrence. He leapt off his horse and ran into the Principia to see Domitianus.

"Message for you from the Legate, sir." the man said handing over the message tube.

Domitianus nodded and dismissed the man. The Prefect opened the message tube and read what it contained. He smiled. It was not a nice smile.

**************

Maximus was in his office talking to Tertullus when one of Domitianus’ clerks stuck his head round the door and said, "Commander wants to see you, sir."

Maximus was surprised, but got up, saying "Wonder what he wants." Tertullus shrugged.

He was going to follow the clerk along the corridor towards the tabularium as Domitianus office was next door, but the clerk said, "No, sir he’s in the tribunal."

Maximus shrugged and turned and went the other way.

He knew immediately he stepped into the room that something was wrong. Domitianus was sitting on the judgement platform with two of his senior centurions. He walked forwards and someone closed the door behind him.

"I just received a dispatch from the Legate. It orders your arrest." Domitianus said without preamble.

Maximus stared at him blankly for a moment before he said "On what charge?" but he knew. He’d been checkmated.

Domitianus smiled unpleasantly. "Conspiracy to defraud the emperor."

He must be throwing Brynmor and Arrianus to the lions to save his own neck, Maximus thought. "You have evidence?" he asked, knowing before he opened his mouth that there would be evidence.

"The Legate was most distressed to hear what I uncovered about what you’ve been up to." responded the Cohort Commander. He turned to one of the centurions. "Lock him up, we’ll take him south tomorrow."

Maximus was hustled along the corridor not really believing what was happening. When they took him outside he saw that the legionaries had closed the cavalry section of the fort off. Domitianus must be really worried that the auxiliaries would mutiny. That in itself was comforting but not much. Gods, what an idiot he’d been. He should have gone straight to the Legate evidence or no. They took him down to the lock up where they held soldiers who got drunk or into fights or both and left him to cool his heels.

***************

Marcius couldn’t believe that Maximus had been arrested. But ‘on the orders of the Legate’ had a horrible ring of truth about it. It wasn’t all he was worried about though. He demanded to see Domitianus. "Look you idiot, there’s a patrol overdue." he told the legionary on guard. "Those men should’ve been back hours ago."

The legionary laughed. "Probably got lost – not exactly renowned for being clever, your lot are they? Bloody bog trotting Celts."

Marcius kicked the gate in frustration. "All right, you’ve had your fun insulting me. Oh, I’m cut to the quick. Now will you let me see Domitianus?"

Eventually the legionary gave in and escorted the decurion up to the Principia.

Domitianus reeked of smug self satisfaction. "Well, what is it now?" he demanded cheerfully. "Come to make a special plea for that hero you work for?"

Marcius looked at the Cohort Commander in dislike. "What would be the point? No, I’ve been trying to tell your bone headed legionaries that there’s a patrol overdue." He snapped. "In case you’d forgotten the last time that happened they’d all been massacred or taken prisoner."

Domitianus looked thoughtful for a moment. "How long overdue?" he asked.

"They should’ve been back by mid-afternoon at the latest." responded Marcius relieved that at least the man seemed to be taking what he was saying seriously.

"Probably just got lost." Domitianus commented.

Marcius looked as if he was going to punch the Cohort Commander, but thought better of it.

Domitianus grinned. "Do it, and you’ll end up in the lock up beside your prefect." he waved at the escort. "Get him out of here."

When they had gone he turned and said to the centurion in the room with him, "Still, much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. It is unusual. And there was that business with Morvedd’s boys last month."

"They surely wouldn’t be stupid enough to try the same trick twice would they, sir" asked the centurion.

"Never know with the Selgovae."

"We could send out another patrol to look for them." the centurion suggested.

"No, I want all the cavalry exactly where I can see them." then he added, "Besides it’ll be getting dark soon. Double the night watch, just in case. If it is Morvedd’s boys again I wouldn’t put it past them to try something really reckless."

"Oh, they’d never attack the fort, sir." exclaimed the centurion. "Even they aren’t that stupid."

*************

The patrol still hadn’t returned by nightfall and Marcius was really worried. He was sure Maximus would have done something. Then he smiled grimly. Yeah, Maximus would have sent reinforcements out to see what had happened while it was still light. Oh bugger! He spent a sleepless night.

*************

An hour or so before dawn, the sentries on the wall were looking forward to daybreak. Double watch put a strain on everyone, and with tension twanging round the fort like a cranked up ballista it was worse. Missing patrols were serious. Potential mutiny was worse. Therefore it was with more than a little relief that those on the western wall heard the sound of horses hooves coming along the road. It was too cloudy for the moon to lighten the night sky, but they could still see the pale line of the road snaking westwards into the hills. Soon they could hear the jingle of the horses harnesses as well and could make out dim figures riding towards them.

"Reckon they did get lost after all." one of the sentries on the gate tower said contemptuously to another and spat over the rampart as the cavalry troop came into clear view, the light from the torches on the gate gleaming off their helmets and mail armour, their standard held proudly to the front.

The sentry on the tower shouted down to the optio in charge of the gate. "Patrol’s back, sir."

The Optio nodded. "Right, as soon as they’re in I want them straight down to the stables. I don’t want them realising there’s anything up until later."

The men below slowly swung the heavy oak gates open to let the troopers through. and they trotted past along the Via Principalis. Suddenly they split up, some cantering deeper into the fort, others swinging into the legionaries surrounding them at the gate, making loud whooping cries as they did so. The optio in charge realised to his horror that they weren’t auxiliaries at all.

"Close the gates, close the gates!" he screamed, drawing his sword. The sentries were already doing so, but they were too late, shadowy figures who had been following the ‘troopers’ on foot came rushing through. A trumpet call rang out as someone had the presence of mind to sound the alarm. Flames started to leap into the sky from the other side of the fort where other attackers must have fired the vicus. One of the riders slashed at the optio with his sword, hitting him across the throat. With a gurgle and a fountain of blood he fell to the ground, his body soon trampled by the horses.

Marcius had been unable to sleep. He had sat for some time discussing with Nigrinus and some of the other decurions what they should do, but had been unable to come to any conclusion that wouldn’t get them decimated for mutiny. If that wasn’t going to happen anyway, he thought sourly.

At the first shouts he knew something was wrong. He leapt up, and ran out of the barracks, barely pausing to pull his mail shirt over his head. The other decurions were running out of their barracks too, along with troopers. He ran up to the gateway separating the two sections of the fort. The sentries were still there but were facing the other way, craning their necks to see what was going on.

"Let us through you fool!" Marcius shouted "Can’t you see we’re being attacked?"

One of the legionaries turned round. He had drawn his gladius. "Looks like your boys weren’t lost after all." he snarled. "Looks like they’ve joined up with the Selgovae."

Marcius and the other decurions looked at one another.

"Stuff this." muttered Marcius, and signalled to the others. They rushed the sentries and soon had them subdued. "Get the others," Marcius ordered Nigrinus. "let’s see what we can do to get this mess under control. But set a proper guard on the gate, we don’t want them into our part of the fort. I’m going to see if I can find the Prefect."

In the dark it was terribly confusing, the loud whinnying of the horses, men rushing around on foot, half naked tribesmen slashing at the legionaries in berserk rage. Marcius darted up one of the narrow paths separating the hospital block and the workshops from the partition wall until he came to the lock ups.

Maximus was woken by what sounded like fighting, to see the flickering light of something burning and the smell of smoke. Had one of the barracks gone up, he wondered. He started banging on the door. But nobody came. Then someone ran past, whooping, long hair streaming behind them. Maximus couldn’t believe his eyes. A tribesman! In the fort. Gods they must be under attack. Surely Domitianus would let him out now. They would need every man they had. He pounded on the door again, then stopped he didn’t want to get skewered by one of the invaders.

"Sir, Prefect Maximus!" he heard a voice hissing from along the block.

"Marcius! In here!" he hissed back.

The small shape of the decurion appeared before the cell door.

"What’s happening? How did they get into the fort?" he demanded as the decurion unfastened the bolts securing the door.

"I’m not sure, but Domitianus’ boys think we’ve mutinied and let them in."

Maximus ran out into the pathway. "Oh Great. Are they just in this section?"

They were running back towards the Via Decumana at the back of the Principia as Marcius answered "Not unless my boys have let them into ours."

"We need to get the gates shut, to stop any more of them getting in and trap the others."

At the partition gateway there was now heavy fighting between unmounted troopers and tribesmen.

"Nigrinus! When you’ve dealt with this lot, let’s get the rest of them cleared out." Maximus shouted.

On hearing his voice the auxiliaries let out a ragged cheer and redoubled their efforts. Nigrinus’ teeth flashed white as he smiled.

They ran up the roadway separating the granaries from the Principia, towards where the sound of fighting was strongest. Flames started to lick round the roof tiles of the headquarters building. "Gods they must have got inside. Where the hell’s Domitianus? They must be after the pay chest or the standards."

"How would they know where they were? demanded Marcius.

"I should think they tortured the patrol until they told them." responded Maximus.

It was complete mayhem in front of the Principia. Some of the tribesemen were still mounted; in the light from the torches in front of the building their long hair clearly marked them out as impostors. Keeping well clear of the long slashing swords the riders carried, Maximus and Marcius darted into the courtyard.

Domitianus was single-handedly fighting off three tribesmen, others were making short work of two legionaries armed with only swords. "They got inside." yelled the Cohort Commander. "Stop them!"

Maximus ran into the rear part of the building where the sacellum was. It held both the standards and the pay chest. Three tribesmen were sacking the room, smashing the standards over the altars. One of them was Morvedd. As the two Romans ran into the room he turned, teeth bared in a victorious snarl.

Marcius let out a furious yell and charged at him. The other two grinned at each other. They’d let Morvedd finish him off and deal with this one themselves.

It was all Maximus could do to hold his own. He was only armed with a sword and a helmet he’d picked up. But he’d had some experience of fighting on foot against the long slashing swords the barbarians used. And, he was considerably taller than they were.

Marcius was not so lucky. The small Silurian was a cavalryman through and through, trained to fight from horseback. Morvedd didn’t care where he fought.

Out of the corner of one eye, Maximus could see that the decurion was sorely pressed by the bigger tribesman. He redoubled his efforts to deal with his opponents but was not fast enough. Morvedd slashed forwards under the cavalryman’s guard to deliver a great blow to his legs, below his chain mail. As Marcius staggered backwards, the tribesman followed through with the dagger he held in his left hand and stabbed him in the stomach, through his mail. Marcius fell to the ground.

"No!" Maximus yelled. He finished off one of the other tribesmen, and knocked the other out with an elbow to the head. As the man fell he rammed him through the chest with his sword.

"Huh, leader of horsemen, just you and me, now." said Morvedd in broken Latin. "I think I take my time to kill you." he jeered

Maximus ignored him, focussed on killing him, conversation a distraction. As they circled warily in the flickering light, Maximus suddenly lunged forwards. The Selgovan parried, grinning. He was still talking, overconfident. He lunged forwards in his turn and Maximus parried, taking a step backwards, careful not to stumble on one of the bodies in the small space.

The Selgovan’s sword had a longer reach than his own and Morvedd succeeded in reaching under his guard to slash at his ribs. Maximus felt the trickle of blood running down his side, staining his tunic, and Morvedd’s grin widened.

Maximus backed off and quickly stooped to pick up Marcius’ sword, then he rushed forwards, and although the tribesmen parried his attack, he followed through with the other one, stabbing him deeply in the side. Disbelief flickered in Morvedd’s eyes before they went blank and Maximus dropped his body to the floor.

Chest heaving, Maximus dropped to his knees beside Marcius, but he was already dead, eyes staring at the ceiling. He brushed a hand over his face and closed them, saying a quick prayer to wish him good fortune on his journey to Elysium.

Then Domitianus staggered into the room and leant on the door jamb. "Congratulations, Prefect, this means I’ve only got you to deal with now."

Maximus whirled round and looked up at him in astonishment.

Domitianus looked round at the carnage and said, "Now that your men here are dead. I wonder how I killed them."

"They’re not my men, you stupid bastard! exclaimed Maximus. "Didn’t you even look at them?"

"Of course I know they’re not really your men." said Domitianus, "But, killed while leading mutinying troops is so much more convenient than any kind of official investigation don’t you think?."

The implications of what Domitianus had said sank in and Maximus looked at the man, appalled. "You’re admitting you were behind this business with the horses? And when I found out you set me up? What possible justification could you have?"

"Look, Prefect." said Domitianus with a sigh. "Welcome to the real world. It's not a nice place. I hate destroying people's illusions." he paused and slight smile crossed his face. "Well not in your case I must admit."

Then the Cohort Commander laughed. "Yeah look at you, nice shiny bright ideals an' all. Quite prepared to die for honour or for Rome, just like Horatius." he spat on the ground.

"Hades, you've seen what it's like out there. The land round here should never have been made part of the province. Antoninus was mad when he pushed the frontier north, everyone said so. The tribes here aren't even half pacified. They're not ready to abandon their hill forts and build nice towns like they have in the south. These bandits have been stealing cattle and horses from each other since before Romulus was a boy and they'll be doing it when all of us are dust and forgotten."

He paused, shaking his head in exasperation. "And what did our wonderful new Governor Calpurnius Agricola do four years ago? Why he'd heard our tribes up here breed really great cavalry mounts." he laughed. "He was right, you’ve seen them. And then he decided they were going to supply the army with most of its horses. He'd never even been up here." he spat contemptuously on the floor. "Still hasn’t."

"And that’s your excuse?"

"You still don't get it, do you?" Domitianus shook his head in amazement. "If I wasn’t doing this, allowing the tribes to make their profit, they’d have revolted four years ago."

"Oh so you’re defrauding the provincial government out of patriotism now! Do me a favour!"

"Well Horatius, I don’t really care what you think. Everything was fine here until you had to come along and start stirring things up. The tribes thought they'd got one up on us, Brynmor was running his horse fair and making a tidy profit, and the Governor still got horses."

"That’s a load of shit and you know it!" snapped Maximus. "What about the remount situation? How can that possibly be helping things?"

"Horatius, the remount situation is always bad, every Cavalry Prefect there has ever been complains about remounts whether they're in Syria, Noricum or here. It's traditional. That’s been the beauty of this whole business."

"So what are you going to do now?" Maximus demanded.

"I’m going to kill you, of course. I’ll be quite a hero myself."

As Domitianus was saying this, Maximus was already reaching for the sword he had laid down beside Marcius’ body. As soon as his fingers grasped the hilt he sprang at the Cohort Commander.

Domitianus was much older than Maximus, overweight and still recovering from fighting the tribesmen in the courtyard. But he was a much more experienced fighter and knew every dirty trick there was. Although Maximus was faster, he was slowing down from the slash in his side. He shimmied back and picked up the other sword.

Domitianus just grinned, but he didn’t make the mistake of underestimating his opponent as Morvedd had done. Neither did Maximus.

They circled, each looking for the opening that would allow them to break through the other’s guard. The Cohort Commander lunged forwards, but Maximus easily parried. They carried on, lunge, parry: lunge, parry. Maximus was beginning to think he would never be able to break through the other man’s guard. After some time he realised the sword slash in his side was more serious than he had at first thought, and sweat began to run into his eyes. He was going to have to finish this soon or be finished off himself.

Suddenly he saw the opening he was looking for and struck the other man on the right arm, cutting deep into the muscle above the elbow. Domitianus nearly dropped his sword giving a great below of rage, but managed to flick it into his other hand. Maximus had him now, Domitianus was not nearly as strong a fighter with his left arm, and was now protecting his right. Maximus lunged forwards with his left, while his right snaked under the other man’s weaker guard and delivered another deep cut, this time to his thigh. Domitianus stumbled to the ground, but he wasn’t finished yet. "Fiends take you, you bastard." he snarled and cut deeply into Maximus’ calf.

The Prefect staggered, throwing out a hand to stop himself falling over completely, the sword clanging onto the tiles, and he fell forwards towards Domitianus, then with his weight behind him stabbed him in the neck.

The Cohort Commander slumped back onto the floor, eyes glazing over.

Using the sword in the man’s neck as a crutch Maximus pushed himself to his feet and slowly limped out of the sacellum without a backwards glance.

****************

They had disposed of the last of the tribesmen by the time it was completely light. Fortunately the fire hadn’t taken hold of the Principia and it was quickly put out. The same could not be said for the vicus, every building of which seemed to be almost completely gutted.

Maximus met one of Domitianus’ centurions outside the fire blackened building. "We need to get a message south, to get reinforcements, in case there’s more of them." he told the man.

The centurion sneered. "You don’t give me orders, Prefect."

Maximus had had enough. "Under normal circumstances no, I wouldn’t. But in case you hadn’t noticed these are not normal circumstances."

"Oh you’re dead right there, Prefect. Where’s Domitianus?"

"He’s in there, dead, along with Morvedd and my senior decurion." Maximus jerked his head behind him back at the Principia.

The centurion took a deep breath, then nodded. The man was right they did have to alert the south. "They must have taken the signal station out otherwise we would have seen a signal already." he commented.

Maximus agreed. "Get some men up there now, I’ll send riders south as well."

When the centurion had left, Maximus went to check that the fort was secure. All the gates were now firmly shut, but the Selgovae had managed to do a lot of damage before they had been overcome. Several of the legionaries’ barracks had been fired as well, but casualties were lighter than he had at first feared.

He found Nigrinus supervising some of his troopers, and he was surprised to see, some legionaries, heaving tribesmen’s bodies into a pile to one side of the partition gateway. He told him that Marcius was dead.

"I thought he must be." the decurion responded. "You should get that seen to." he added pointing at Maximus’ bloodstained tunic and the cut on his calf.

Maximus nodded agreement, but finished his inspection before limping down to the hospital block, feeling, if he would only admit it, more than a little light headed. By this time the medic and his orderlies had dealt with most of the wounded. One man had had his leg crushed by a falling roof timber in one of the burnt out barracks. It looked as if it was going to have to come off. Others like Maximus had long sword slashes.

The medic shook his head when he saw the Prefect and motioned him to sit down. The slash on his leg wasn’t serious, but he needed stitches in his side.

"How many wounded have you had to deal with?" Maximus asked as the man worked.

The medic rolled his eyes. "Can’t you take five minutes off while I do this?" he demanded.

Maximus started to laugh then groaned.

"Serves you right." snapped the medic. "Anyway, where’s Domitianus, he should be dealing with most of this."

"He’s dead." Maximus said shortly.

"Ah." Sergius carried on in silence until he had finished.

When Maximus stood up and made to leave the room the medic put a hand on his arm saying, "Seeing as how the Commander is dead, perhaps you want to deal with this?" and he indicated one of the cubicles at the end of the block.

Puzzled, Maximus followed him and looked inside. A figure was lying curled up on the cot, with his back towards them, chained by the ankle to one of the cot legs.

The figure on the bed turned and looked at them with dead, hopeless eyes. It was the Selgovan boy. A flicker of something that might have been interest stirred when he saw the Prefect. Maximus sucked in a breath as he saw the boy’s face. Someone had sliced his cheeks open with a knife, criss-crossing his mouth. Sergius had managed to stitch the cuts up but he would be scarred for life.

Maximus looked over his shoulder at the medic, "Domitianus?" he asked.

Sergius nodded. "He wasn’t trying to kill him, if he had been he’d’ve been dead."

Maximus went and sat on the edge of the cot, patting the boy on the shoulder. "I’m sorry."

The boy shrugged, "You said to be careful. Guess I wasn’t careful enough." he said slowly, moving his face as little as possible.

Maximus smiled then said. "You should know, Domitianus is dead."

As he said this a fierce joy flared in the boy’s eyes. Maximus continued, " Look, there’s no reason you have to stay here. As soon as you are better you can go back to your people."

To his surprise the boy shook his head. "I can’t go back, not after what he did to me, and not like this." he gestured at his face."

"What will you do?"

"I, uh don’t know." the boy said bleakly.

"If you want, you could stay and work for me," Maximus suggested and then clarified "as a free man."

The boy had to stop himself from grinning. "I would like that, I think."

Maximus nodded then said, "But I’m sorry, I really don’t think I can manage your name." He thought for a moment then said, "We had a famous man once, gifted in the law. He argued against tyranny. Would you like his name?"

The boy considered for a moment then nodded. "What is it?"

"Cicero."

The Legate, Lucius Sabianus, arrived three days later with two cohorts of infantry. Maximus met him and his entourage of tribunes outside the Principia. "I did wonder if there was going to be a fort here when I arrived, Prefect" he commented as they walked inside. "What happened?"

"As I outlined in my despatch, sir we were attacked by Selgovae masquerading as a detachment of my troopers." Maximus told him as they went inside.

The Legate dismissed his tribunes and they went into the tribunal. The Legate sat on the platform. He looked at Maximus standing at attention before him. "There is also the small matter of the dispatch concerning you that Prefect Domitianus sent me. How do you explain that?"

Maximus kept his eyes focussed on a spot just above the Legate’s head. "The Prefect was mistaken, sir." was all he said.

"Yes, I know." responded Sabianus.

Maximus looked surprised and the Legate explained. " We know that this has been going on for years, and you’ve only just arrived. So tell me, what has happened to the good horses?"

"The Votadini go-between is due to deliver them to the Equisio’s agent in two days time, sir." Maximus responded.

"Ah, and how do you know this?"

"I overheard them discussing it, sir."

"Hmm, well I’ll arrange for them to be met, good work, Prefect."

This wasn’t quite what Maximus had expected but he wasn’t about to argue. Then Sabianus asked, "And just what exactly happened to the Prefect?"

"Prefect Domitianus died preventing barbarians from sacking the sacellum, sir."

"Died like a hero then."

"Yessir, I believe that is what he wanted to be remembered as." Maximus commented limpidly.

The Legate raised an eyebrow then stood up. He walked over to the table and poured himself a cup of wine, swirling it round before drinking it. "But of course now," he went on, "it doesn’t matter at all."

"Why not?" Maximus didn’t understand.

"The Gods have a sense of irony, you see Prefect." Said the Legate. "Two days before I got word of the attack here I received a dispatch announcing that because the war in Germania isn’t going as well as it should be, the Emperor, has decided that we’re going to pull back to the old wall, in the spring and most of us will be shipped out. So Prefect, you get to cover yourself in glory in Germania as well." and he raised his cup in salute.

Once the Prefect had left, the legate stood swirling his wine in the cup for a while longer. Damn Domitianus for getting so careless!

It is not quite clear from either historical records or archaeology when the Antonine Wall (the Northern Wall of the story) was abandoned during Marcius Aurelius’ reign. However the Romans had probably withdrawn by 165. But this is fiction so what the heck. Certainly there is evidence that the need for soldiers elsewhere in the empire, coupled with armed rebellion amongst the tribes in the area lead to this withdrawal.

Trimontium was an unusual fort in that it was garrisoned by both legionary cohorts and auxiliary cavalry. The fort is very definitely divided into two sections one for the legionaries and the other for the cavalry, with a wall between them. In effect two forts. Normally both cavalry prefects and cohort commanders reported directly to the Legate of the legion and while this may not have been the case here, I have treated it as if it were. During the Antonine period, the legionaries were two cohorts of the twentieth legion and the cavalry were the Ala Vocontii.

For those interested, there is a very good glossary of Roman military terms at roman-britain.org.