'Volcanic ash,' said Demetrius. 'We need some. Also lime.'

Radu groaned. 'The nearest volcanic island is Issa! That's a good three-hour flight from here!'

'There's also the problem of carrying a bag of ash if you're a bird,' Demetrius said pointedly. 'And we've only got a day. We can't ship it.'

'To say nothing of figuring out how to carry a pick and a bag in the first place,' mused Radu.

'Or,' said Alex archly, 'we could just steal some.'

They stared at him.

'This whole place is a building site, you nincompoops. They're working on a temple. They're about to pour foundations for an expansion of the arena. If my people can't nick a bag of concrete mix, what am I feeding them for?'

'That's probably a better idea than making it from scratch,' admitted Demetrius.

'Good. Leave that part to me. Meanwhile, go and stage some portents.'

Rufus Fulvus was patrolling the perimeter of the camp. Nothing out there save trees, but somebody had to do it. The guard was nervous, though: last night, he'd spied on an owl in conversation with a cat. And got in trouble for it. It wasn't his fault – it was the owl's and cat's faults, because owls and cats shouldn't be talking. Not like that, anyway. The governor had pretended not to believe the report, but Fulvus knew better. That sort of thing gave a person the willies, it did.

'It's this damned Dalmatia,' Fulvus muttered to himself. 'Too many witches and wizards in these woods. Too many woods, too. These trees probably have cousins all the way to Dacia and beyond. It's creepy.'

He only had a couple of hours to go on his watch. He was hoping it would be a quiet one: what he needed was a meal, some wine, and a nap. After all, they were supposed to get on a ship tomorrow. Marching on Rome. Fulvus both was, and wasn't, looking forward to that. On the one hand, the sights, sounds, and smells of home. On the other, possible trouble. And they'd be bringing it. Fulvus wasn't sure he trusted this governor to see them right. And what if the whole business went south?

He didn't pay much attention to the cat at first. When it wound around his ankles, he petted it absently. One does.

'Nice kitty,' he said. 'Sorry, I don't have anything for you. Go catch a mouse or something.'

As if in answer to his suggestion, a squirrel ran right in front of the guard. With a satisfied 'meow', the cat ran close behind. After about fifty yards, the rodent scampered up a tree, circling the trunk in a rising spiral. Seeming puzzled, the cat disappeared around the tree.

'You won't catch your dinner that way,' chuckled the soldier.

The tree was tall, but not very big around. Fulvus expected the cat to emerge on the other side – or to come around with claws dug in as it climbed the trunk.

He was not prepared for what he saw next.

From behind the skinny tree (how? why?) there came a stately beast. A four-footed behemoth with huge, flapping ears, tusks of ivory, and a long, prehensile trunk. In short (but it wasn't!), an elephant.

'Oh, gods and little fishes!' Fulvus breathed, not for the first time.

The elephant raised its imposing trunk, and trumpeted: also an impressive sound. The call reverberated through the wood.

And then, to make things worse, there was an answering call – another trumpet – from inside the forest.

Fulvus was so surprised that the sound knocked him from his feet. He knew he should get up – warn the others, warn them about what? The ghost of Hannibal arisen from the Underworld? – but for a moment he just sat there, on the ground, staring ahead at the elephant that should not have been there.

And at that moment, the giant beast turned away from him – and lumbered back towards the trees. . .

Where it vanished without a trace.

'I'm not reporting this,' Fulvus muttered.

Fulvus did, however, report the incident – to his friends. Who believed him.

They believed him because they, too, had seen things. And heard things. Things that made them very uneasy.

Another perimeter guard had seen a two-headed calf. In a field. With other cows. The other cows hadn't wanted anything to do with the strange calf, and had set up a horrible chorus of moos. When the farmer was fetched, still hotly denying that any such prodigy had been born in his stable, the offending bovine with the supernumerary head was nowhere to be found. The cadre added this to their list of possible portents.

Ravens had dropped pita sandwiches and stray fruit.

Out by the harbour, several dolphins had thrown fish at sailors, rather than the other way around, as was normal.

Most puzzling of all had been the murmuration of starlings. The flock had spelled out 'MALUM', evil, which could not possibly be a good sign.

Demetrius and Radu had worked very hard on that one: it's not easy to induce a flock of starlings to do anything that wasn't their idea in the first place. Fortunately, they had been able to promise to guide them to a ripe cornfield for snacks afterward.

By evening, the camp was in an uncertain mood. And none of the officers knew why, because the soldiers weren't telling.

Things got worse as darkness fell. Guards were feeling so insecure they patrolled in pairs. Their decani calling them 'little old ladies' had no effect.

Nobody got any sleep. From the forest came a variety of unnerving noises:

• Elephants trumpeted.
• Asses brayed, in chorus.
• Weird ululations resounded from among the trees, or echoed off the sea cliffs.
• There were ghostly bagpipes, playing rude songs.

Worst of all, they heard the blood-curdling bellow of the carnyx, that Celtic instrument of war. From every part of the nearby woods it sounded, at random intervals, now near, now far. They stuck bread into their ears: it didn't help.

As dawn crept over the horizon, two Roman legions were exhausted and rattled. They were also very skeptical about the enterprise to come.

'Not bad,' was Alex's comment when the two psychological warfare experts reported in. 'The carnyx was a nice touch.'

'Thanks to your men for scaring that up,' said Radu. 'Also for the bagpipes. I haven't played one in a while.'

'How did concrete acquisition go?' Demetrius wanted to know.

'It's setting nicely,' was all Alex would say. 'Catch a catnap. They'll be ready to embark in an hour or two, and we don't want to miss the fun.'

DG

29.07.24 Front Page

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