'Well, praefectus. I am a
horseman and in a hurry that might perplex you. '
He clucked his tongue. 'I do
get perplexed easily, but let us not be cheeky, or I shall roast you.'
I rolled my eyes at his
threats. 'Hraban … look—' I started.
He laughed. 'Hraban? What is
wrong with proper names, like Lucius, Marcus, or Gnaeus, like mine? You people
are impossible.'
I spat. 'You nearly rode
into three thousand Tencteri, who are, by the way, over there, behind that
hill. They have few fineries, oh lord, so your bright cape would have made them
happy.'
'Indeed. Would be wasted on
the scoundrels. Now that we have looted our rightfully won riches, paltry that
they are, and have saved your sorry asses, we shall leave.' He got up, mounted,
pocketed his loot, and I could see that he had a bright cuirass under the
cloak. I sighed.
'We saved you,' Pipin spat
in heavy Latin. 'Not the other way around.'
'You saved nothing and sons
of senators don't ride to battle in peasant garb. Besides, I wanted to attract
the enemy. Only way to count the cunts is to have them ride after us. We had an
ambush site picked back up that way,' he sniffed and pointed toward the north,
but smiled and gave the order to retreat. 'Does not matter. We got some of
them.' And so we went, Fulcher on a horse, tied to the saddle, and the archers
occasionally losing arrows at some foolhardy enemy scouts.
'Sons of senators might go
home in a pot when taking such risks,' I grinned at him.
'By Mercury! That would
probably be the one thing to make my father smile. It would be a horrible
sight, his smile, but he would grin and cry with happiness! I think he might
make a piss pot out of that urn!' he laughed like a mad thing, drawing
exasperated looks from the Syrians and the Parthians around him.
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