Read Legionary: Viper of the North for Free Online

riders laughed again, but this time their laughter was forced and laced with icy tension. ‘Nonsense! Advance at a slow march across the bridge. You can still hold your precious bridgehead from the far side.’
     
    Quadratus looked up with a furious expression. ‘Is that an order, sir?’
     
    Lupicinus pursed his lips and gazed into the distance as if shrewdly thinking over the move. ‘Yes, it is. But let’s advance with one of the war heroes at the front. Yes, let’s have the drunk,’ he stabbed a finger at Pavo. ‘Now tell me, why have you been left behind while the better men of your legion are out in enemy territory, eh?’
     
    Pavo searched for an answer. The truth was that he would have been out there too, had it not been for the recent reorganisation of the legion to repopulate the ranks after the Bosporus mission. He had been a proud member of the first cohort, first century. Then, a few months ago, Gallus had insisted that the more experienced legionaries should be seeded through the cohorts as the legion was repopulated with recruits and vexillationes from other legions. Still though, doubt stung at his chest.
     
    ‘Perhaps you are not as brave as you would have us think?’ Lupicinus cut in before he could reply. ‘Well come on then, out front, lead us across the bridge.’
     
    Pavo’s blood iced at this. All eyes fell upon him. At least his colleagues in the front line offered their sympathy. In contrast, Lupicinus smirked at his discomfort, as did his riders and legionaries. But Pavo had known this was coming and coming soon. With so many officers killed or called out in vexillationes recently, Pavo, like Sura, was only a few steps from being thrust into leadership. And the thought made him nauseous. His one brief spell of leadership had been swift, when he had assumed control of a rag-tag bunch of legionaries – all of them even younger than him – in the Bosporus mission. But here he was faced with men all older and more grizzled than himself, all surely more qualified to lead. Mithras , he thought, surely Quadratus is the ranking infantry officer here anyway? His eyes moved to the big Gaul.
     
    But Lupicinus spotted his hesitation and pounced upon it. ‘Ah, a coward! ’ the comes spat. ‘Unable to act without the guiding hand of another, eh? Never a leader. Just like most of the dross in this so-called legion.’
     
    Pavo bristled. He might not be a leader, but he certainly was no coward. He straightened up, readying to shout the men forward, but Lupicinus cut in.
     
    ‘Centurion Quadratus, lead us forward, show the boy how it’s done!’
     
    Quadratus stepped to the fore, his movement disguising a shudder of rage and his face a shade of crimson. Still, the centurion managed to offer a nod of support to Pavo. But Pavo was staring straight ahead, hoping his veneer of steadfast attention would disguise the burning shame inside him. The comes’ words echoed in his head.
     
    Never a leader.
     
    ‘Ready, advance!’ Quadratus barked.
     
    As one, the cluster of legionaries stomped forward, the timbers of the makeshift bridge creaking and bucking under their weight, the riders trotting close behind. All eyes were on the treeline. Still it writhed and, as they got closer, it seemed to jostle and judder more violently, as if something was building to a head. But what?
     
    Pavo was almost grateful that his shame was swept away by the nerves that usually preceded a battle or a skirmish. The soldier’s curse, they called it: swollen tongue, dry mouth and full-to-bursting bladder, not helped by the thundering torrents of the Danubius below.
     
    Quadratus raised his sword, readying to stop the column as they reached the north bridgehead when, suddenly, the treeline fell still.
     
    ‘What the?’ Sura croaked.
     
    ‘Halt.’ Quadratus spoke his order in a muted tone, frowning.
     
    Ready shields! Pavo screamed in his mind, ears honed for any sound of stretching bowstrings or whizzing