Sword of Rome: Standard Bearer Read Online Free PDF Page A

envious nor resentful of him at this time... My father died and Caradog accused me of poisoning him. His death was sudden
and suspicious; there was no real evidence against me though. Yet my brother
swiftly poisoned the tribe’s minds against me and I was banished. My mother and
a number of the tribal elders interceded to stop my being condemned to death...
I think about it nigh on every day, whether my brother planned to have my
father killed and to implicate me – but at the end of each day I’m no closer to
discovering the truth.”
    “Do you want revenge?” Oppius asked, thinking as much about his own father’s death as Teucer’s .
He would sharpen, rather than bait, his sword if ever he encountered the man
who had murdered him. And then challenge him in single combat.
    “I would much rather just have my father
back,” the archer replied, with a gentle but mournful expression on his face.

 

 
 
    11.

 
    The embers of dusk glowed akin to the embers
of the ensuing camp fire that evening. Teucer trapped
and cooked a couple of rabbits. Over supper the Briton schooled the Roman in a
few choice words and phrases in his language that might get him out of trouble. Oppius would be attacked and executed instantly if he
revealed himself to be a Roman, even if he pretended to be a deserter. In terms
of deserting Oppius remarked how he would not blame Teucer if he had thoughts of deserting and returning home.
    “I do not want the garden of Britain to serve
as your grave.”
    “The legion is my home now. This mission may
not be such a lost cause too. If there’s one thing a recruiting officer will do
- it’s make himself available for a couple of
mercenaries looking for employment,” the Briton replied, his tone conveying
twice the confidence that he felt inside.
    The two men set off early the next morning and
soon came to a large settlement. From the intelligence provided by Caesar, Teucer thought it was a good a place as any to locate the
Roman agent. Oppius was far from overwhelmed by the
village of Gowdhust . The houses were rickety, at
best. Hope and prayers, far more than building materials and architectural
skills, kept most of the dwellings upright. Wild-eyed children scampered about,
ankle deep in mud and grime. The entire settlement smelled like a sewer, Oppius thought to himself, scrunching up his face in
disgust upon first being assaulted by the stench.
    The only cheer emanated from the hut which
housed and served alcohol.
    “Well if I were recruiting for the army I’d
head for the nearest place which served alcohol. If you wait here, I’ll see if
I can find some answers,” Teucer remarked and headed
off to the hut where a bunch of Britons were either roaring with laughter or
asleep in a corner. Oppius tried not to look
conspicuous whilst wearing a scowl upon his face, to help dissuade anyone from
approaching him. The unwelcoming expression was little different to the one he
normally wore. The inhabitants of the settlement seemed little interested in
the stranger however. They had seen plenty of mercenaries in their time and
raised not their pale, drawn faces to the large archer as they walked by him.
    Thankfully Teucer returned relatively quickly. He bought a couple of lose-tongued barbarians a
drink (although Caesar did not furnish the centurion with a cohort for the
mission, he did furnish him with plenty of gold) and then came back after
downing his drink.
    “The bad news is it seems we missed our quarry
by a day or so. But the good news is I know where he’s heading.”

 
    “The worst news is that the agent is
travelling with a bodyguard of three picts ,” the
Briton remarked as the two men walked toward the next major settlement.
    “ Picts ?” Oppius replied, only half concentrating
on his friend as he shook his head in disapproval again at the quality of the
road that they were travelling on. Numerous wagon tracks scarred the ground and
the path seemed to meander more than the