Death at Philippi by Peter Tonkin

Author:Peter Tonkin [Tonkin, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-03-08T22:00:00+00:00

ii

The unmistakable sound of a soldier sliding off a saddle to land on hobnailed caligae covered the rustle of leaves as Artemidorus stepped out of hiding, sighted and fired. The arrow took the legionary through the front of his throat above the neck of his armour and his scarf. The arrowhead cut through his spinal cord, effectively beheading him, so swiftly that his last expression was still one of lust rather than shock or surprise. He collapsed at once, face down. His horse shied and curvetted back, but Voadicia caught the reins and soothed the beast until Felix relieved her and she turned back to get dressed.

As she did so, Artemidorus took the opportunity to check in the rider’s saddle bags. After a moment, he caught his breath. ‘The gods appear to be with us rather than the messenger after all, Felix,’ he said. ‘These are letters from Brutus to Servilia his mother and from Cassius to his wife Junia. One letter would probably have done for both; they’re mother and daughter after all.’

‘Why is this such good news?’ asked Felix.

‘I’d bet that if you look in the pouch the courier’s got slung over his shoulder, you’ll find that the letters are accompanied by a pass that will get us into Neapolis and down to the docks – if we’re not recognised. Letters like these are supposed to go on the first ship heading for Italy. Indeed, if we actually wanted to go to Rome, this courier’s pass would almost certainly get us there.’

Felix straightened, holding the document pouch in one hand and the pass itself in the other. ‘It appears you’re right. Centurion Marcus Caldus here was indeed on his way to Rome. But we do not want to go to Rome; the docks at Neapolis will do us fine. If we can steal a vessel that we can control, we might be able to reach Amphipolis by sea, getting round the enemy lines by going back the same way as we came out.’

‘It’s a thought.’ Artemidorus agreed with a nod.

‘It might even be a plan. Do you think we should check it out with our senior strategist?’ He glanced across to where Voadicia was just pulling the plaid trousers up over the pale moons of her buttocks.

Within a very short time indeed, the dead messenger was stripped of everything they thought might be useful and hidden in the undergrowth. Voadicia was mounted on the steadiest of the three horses and the contents of the messenger’s saddlebag had been replaced - to be scrutinised wherever and whenever they stopped for the night. And his pouch with the vital passes was slung across Artemidorus’ chest, crossing the baldric that held his sword while the messenger’s own weapons hung from Voadicia’s saddle.

Neapolis was a three-day fast march away. That meant the better part of a full day’s ride with an overnight stop as it was mid-afternoon already. An opportunity to rest, regroup and reassess their plans would suit the secret agents admirably.

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