The Sword of Revenge Read Online Free PDF Page B

harvest brought in for free, added to half of his own. He was now the owner of three farms; with one more Dabo would definitely have enough land to realise his dream and change over from crop growing to rearing cattle. He would start small, he already had a goodly number of pigs, but there was actual money to be made in ranching and sheep rearing, real copper and silver coin, instead of the near-total barter system that he was engaged in now.
    A tax-gatherer seeking ten years’ dues now would ruin him, for he was over-extended, busy turning his humble home into something approaching a proper villa that would go with the status to which he aspired; the future rancher had committed the small amount of actual money he had to paying for that. Hard to imagine now, in amongst all the filth and rubble and the dust blown into every chamber in the old part of the house, but it was Dabo’s dream to live and die like a true gent, a knight with an income of a hundred thousandsesterces. Ranching would bring him that – not all at once, but in time, as with real money he could change over from seed to pasture, then buy up a whole load more properties from neighbours struggling to make ends meet.
    That Clodius’s service had lasted ten years had surprised Dabo as much as it had, no doubt, infuriated his old companion. News had filtered through that, after some great and bloody battles, the campaign in Illyricum was over. The 10th Legion would return to Italy to be disbanded and so would Clodius, so Dabo only had to wait a few more months and he would be freed from the burden of his contract. No point in antagonising anyone at this stage, so much to the annoyance of his hard-pressed offspring, and at some cost to his own blood pressure, he let Aquila do pretty much as he pleased.
    ‘Look at the bugger,’ he said to himself, as he spied the boy chatting to the two robbing sods who were putting on the timbers that would support his new roof. Aquila was standing, golden hair blowing in the breeze, a long pole in a bucket of tar, which he was stirring over a fire to keep it fluid enough to coat the wood. ‘What I wouldn’t do to be able to take a stave to the lazy sod’s back. He’ll toil for strangers but not lift a finger for the man who feeds him.’
    Aquila enjoyed helping the two builders who hadat one time, like Clodius, been small farmers, for both had been soldiers, and were happy to talk about it. As legionaries they had built for the Roman army in many a far-flung province; now they built for customers like Dabo but were happy to answer questions about their service from a youth just as eager to work for no pay.
    ‘Sighting a camp ain’t easy,’ said Balbus, removing his leather cap and wiping the sweat from the brow of a large head. ‘You want high ground to start with. Mind, it can’t just be set on any old hill, though half the generals in the Roman army don’t seem to be aware of that.’
    ‘Generals!’ His small, stringy partner, Mellio, spat as he said that, his sunburnt face screwed up with hate. He did not like superiors of any description and he was vocal about his reasons. ‘They either kill you, maim you, or beggar you.’
    Aquila fanned the charcoal under the kiln to keep it at maximum heat. Minca, with more sense on such a hot day, had found a cool patch of damp earth on the shady side of the well. He lay there, tongue lolling out, watching Aquila toil at the fire.
    ‘That hill would be a good place,’ the boy said, pointing at a gentle rise that dominated the ground between the Via Appia and the foothills of the mountains. His other hand was held up to shield his face from the intense heat.
    ‘Granted,’ Balbus replied, ‘but what aboutwater? It has to have its own water supply if it’s going to be for more than one night, and it should be flowing enough to wash away the legion’s shit. That’s the most important thing. It’s better to build on flat ground with water than to take a hill that’s