Varro rubbed his neck as he watched Julius and tried to guess at his thoughts, his spirits sinking as he saw the strange eyes come to rest on his beloved sons. He feared for them. He could feel the anger in the young officer even now.

“We never had a choice,” he said. “Celsus would have killed us all.”

“You should have sent messages to Rome, telling them about the pirates,” Julius replied distantly, his thoughts elsewhere.

Varro almost laughed. “Do you think the Republic cares what happens to us? They make us believe in their dreams while we are young and strong enough to fight for them, but when that is all gone, they forget who we are and go back to convincing another generation of fools, while the Senate grow richer and fatter off the back of lands we have won for them. We were on our own and I did what I had to.”

There was truth in his anger and Julius looked at him, taking in the straighter bearing.

“Corruption can be cut out,” he said. “With Sulla in control, the Senate is dying.”

Varro shook his head slowly. “Son, the Republic was dying long before Sulla came along, but you’re too young to see it.”

Varro collapsed back into his seat, still rubbing his throat. When Julius looked away from him, he found all the officers of Accipiter watching him, waiting patiently.

“Well, Julius?” Pelitas said quietly. “What do we do now?”

“We gather what we need and move on to the next village, then the next. These people owe us for letting the pirates thrive in their midst. I do not doubt there are many more like this one,” he replied, indicating Varro.

“You think you can keep doing this?” Suetonius said, horrified at what was happening.

“Of course. Next time, we will have swords and good clothes. It will not be so hard.”

Chapter 10

                  CHAPTER 10                  

Tubruk swung the axe smoothly into the cut in the dying oak. A sliver of healthy wood jolted out under the blow, but the dead branches showed it was time for the old tree to come down. It wouldn’t be long until he reached the heartwood, and he was sure the core was rotten. He had been working for more than an hour, and sweat plastered his linen bracae to him. He had removed his tunic after warming up and felt no need for it, despite the breeze that blew through the woods. The drying perspiration cooled him and he felt at peace. It was difficult not to think about the problems of running the estate after the ransom payment, but he pushed those thoughts aside, concentrating on the swing and strike of the heavy iron blade.