Aventicum, Civitas Helvetiorum, outside the Eastern Gate of the city wall, in the year of the consul suffectus Lucius Naevius Surdinus [autumn of 30 CE]

Silence and darkness covered the landscape like a heavy blanket. Not even a bird's cry disturbed the chilly night, a hint the gods of the dark hours still ruled and Sol Indiges, the sun god, was fast asleep and recovering for the voyage of the next day.

A fine drizzle soaked Marius' coat and an icy rivulet found its way along his collarbone and down his chest. He shivered and ran a hand over his eyes to clear the cobwebs of tiredness away. It was still too dark to see anything. He ignored the cold, wondering if his message had been delivered and if the man he wanted to see would turn up at the pre-defined hour.

A sigh escaped his lips. Without the moon and stars, it was difficult to guess the time. At daybreak, he had said in his message. Daybreak might still be a long time away.

Marius hunched down, pulled his coat around his shoulders against the chill, and recalled the sunny autumn morning he had left the Vindonissa camp in a hurry. This time, he had been aware from the beginning that the long arm of the empire's justice would reach and crush him—perhaps not today, but soon. But Marius was beyond caring. One month after the day Lucius had left the camp and returned to Aventicum with the magistrate's delegation, he still tossed each night, deprived of sleep and tortured by hatred, guilt, and regret. Then, one quiet morning, he woke from a vicious dream, drenched in sweat despite the low temperatures, and knew what he had to do.

Under the pretence of fetching supplies from a civilian merchant, he left the camp and visited the settlement outside the fortifications. After his short shopping tour, he had abandoned the legion—without the intention of returning. To his surprise, the flight had been easy at first. So close to the army's headquarters, no one doubted he had rightful business on the road. The next day, the November weather had caught up with him and he'd experienced a few tight moments. Endless rains had turned to roads into mires at places. Still, the bad weather favoured him. There were few travellers, and he didn't meet any soldiers.

Marius didn't dare to stay in a mansio, though, aware the word of his desertion must be out now and travelling fast. The innkeepers would watch out for the bounty on his head. Afraid of the repercussions, he passed the nights in forested areas, happy when he found a cave or an abandoned hut or stable. Food wasn't so much a problem, as he'd brought with him the provisions he'd bought in the name of his contubernium before his departure. He wondered what his comrades thought of him after his desertion, but pushed the question aside. There was no way he'd ever find out.

These last few nights, he'd installed himself in the small water mill beside a stream outside the city wall of his hometown Aventicum. He had remembered the place from the days he went to fetch flour for his uncle's bakery. With the harvest long done and all the wheat ground and sold, the small wooden building stood empty and offered him easy shelter against the weather.

The hardest part of his plan had been to send the message to the man he wanted to meet. First, he'd thought of walking up to his house and demanding to be heard. But after sleeping over the plan, he'd became aware this would lead to his arrest. Instead, he wrote a letter on his wax tablet. It took several attempts to get the wording right and the letters legible and straight. When he was satisfied, he had installed himself by the road out of sight of the Eastern Gate. There, he waited two days until he recognised a local tradesman he knew well enough and trusted not to rat him out. He offered the man the last of his sold to pay for delivery of the wax tablet to his receiver, hoping he wouldn't be betrayed.

From then on, Marius could only wait and hope. He trusted he had spent the last day well, preparing himself for what he had planned. His last evening meal had been a sombre affair, though, his thoughts as dark as the moonless night, and he'd fallen into a fitful sleep, worried he'd miss his opportunity and that all his careful preparation might be in vain.

As a result, he left his shelter far too early and walked in the rain across the soggy fields and up the hill by the Eastern Gate, keeping himself out of eyesight of the watch towers by instinct despite the darkness.

Perhaps he should have waited longer in his almost cosy and dry mill hideout. Afraid the cold would make his movements sluggish and dampen his wits, Marius stood up and started walking back and forth to keep his limbs warm, ignoring the rain. He had spent countless days on watch in rain, snow, and sleet. Just one more disagreeable night wouldn't kill him.

When he felt the wind shift to the northeast, Marius knew from long experience as a watchman the rain would stop soon. He kept moving, aware the freshening breeze could cut like a blade through his soaked coat and tunic. A lighter band above the eastern horizon told him morning was near. Adrenaline flushed the remaining drowsiness from his system. Would his guest turn up?

Marius hunkered down behind a low stone wall to keep his silhouette from being seen against the lightening sky. Not long, now. He shivered in the wind but kept his eyes on the path. The sky was getting lighter by the minute, and soon he could make out the towers of the Eastern Gate in the distance. He couldn't wait much longer or the watchmen would see what was going on. As soon as the chariot of the sun god sent the first rays across the fields, he would have to abandon his plan and retreat. Disappointment sunk icy claws into his heart.

But wait, was there a movement in the field to the left of the gate? Marius held his breath, the fingers of his right hand clamped around the handle of his sword, his thumb caressing the pommel of the weapon. No, this was an animal, a badger, or a fox, to judge by the bushy tail.

Marius sighed, and his shoulders sagged, frustration deflating his chest. In this moment, he made out the figure of a man clad in a dark tunic on the path from the gate, already nearer than he thought possible. He kept low, watching the stranger's progress across the fields. After the rain, the air was crisp and clean, no mists obscured his sight. If the other man had brought guards, and Marius was convinced he had, they kept well out of sight. This would serve him well. He could deal with them later, if it would become necessary.

Now, the only question was if the man came himself or sent a slave to test the grounds. Marius had tried to prevent the latter by the wording of his message, hinting at secret and private business. He wrote with more ease than most freedmen, thanks to his sister Lavinia who had always been the scholarly type. But did his deception work?

At least he had met the man before, so it would be easy to verify if he dealt with the right person when they came face to face. Marius inhaled the chilly morning air, aware only patience would tell him if his plan had succeeded.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a flicker of movement down at the foot of the hill. Too big for a fox—a man? Marius couldn't be sure. This early in the morning, deer would be out grazing. And if it was an enemy, he was too far away to ruin his setup.

He glanced back at the blue-clad man, who had now almost reached the crossing of the paths he'd defined as their meeting point. Marius stood up, placing himself so the on-comer could see he was alone and holding out his palms in a gesture of welcome and peace.

The other man approached with slow, careful steps, scanning the surroundings with darting glances. Marius waited until he stopped a few steps in front of him. His visitor was several years older than him, and the years hadn't been kind. The man was overweight and his brown hair, already streaked with white, receded at the temples. He wore an elegant tunic and a thick mantle to protect the precious fabric from the rain. A golden fibula held the garment in place over his shoulder.

Marius put on a smile and cleared his throat. "Flavius Otacilius Parvus, I'm honoured."

"Yes, that's me. What do you want, stranger?" The nephew of the city magistrate studied his standard legionary outfit, relief showing on his face. "I hear you have an important message for me, young miles?"

"Yes. I'm Marius Aetius of the Legio XIII Gemina, and I've come the long way from the Vindonissa camp to see you."

Marius moved forward and stopped only three steps in front of the nobleman, the smile fixed on his clean-shaven face. When he unsheathed his gladius in a single motion, the steel grating over the leather of the scabbard, Otacilius shrank back, his eyes wide in terror.

Marius watched satisfied as understanding dawned in the eyes of the former husband of his beloved Cinna.