Hostage to Fortuna

by R. W. Peake

  I took her hand as I stood, although I have no idea what I said, other than indicate I was happy to be led wherever she wanted to go. Her hand was, as one would expect, soft, but I also sensed a strength there that pointed to working with her hands, and I wondered if perhaps she made some of the jewelry her father sold.

  “Oy! Pilus Prior!”

  I glanced over my shoulder as we were walking away to see that it was Columella who had called out, but it was the leering grin on his face that I remember as he shouted, “Don’t let her eat you alive, Pilus Prior!”

  “I’ll try,” I had to shout this because we were heading to the back of the hall, behind the long wooden partition that sectioned off the private area for Segovax, or at the moment, Cogidubnus.

  To my surprise, I saw that there was more than one wooden partition; in fact, there were several, creating, in effect, smaller rooms that, as Bronwen had indicated, afforded some privacy. She glanced over her shoulder as, still holding my hand, she led me to the far side of the hall, and her smile seemed to promise so much more than a necklace that I am afraid I stopped thinking altogether, at least with the head that I should have been using. The partition only slightly muffled the sounds of the celebrating, so we still would have to raise our voice a bit to be heard, but it was as she pulled me into what I was certain was the private area used by the lord of the hall when everything changed.

  The smile vanished, and the tears confused me, but it was her whispered “I am sorry, Centurion. I was given no choice” that gave me a fraction of an eyeblink of warning.

  I spun about, or I tried to, and I only caught the barest glimpse of a snarling face framed by a black beard and black hair before something struck me across the head…and that is the last thing I recall, at least for a period of time. And, since I was not present for what came next, I have asked Alex to tell of the events that concerned me and my fate.

  My first indication that something was wrong came in the form of a shout from outside Gnaeus’ tent, where I was finishing packing up for our departure the next day. Although I could not hear what was said, the note of alarm in the man’s voice got me moving, where I was met at the tent flap by Saloninus, whose face bore an expression I could not recall ever seeing from him. Before he could open his mouth, my mind leapt to the only conclusion that seemed appropriate, given his expression.

  Fortunately, Saloninus correctly interpreted my gasp, and he said hurriedly, “He’s alive, Alex. But,” his countenance hardened, “you need to come with me to hear this.”

  Of course, I followed him to the Porta Praetoria, but instead of exiting, he strode up the rampart, and when I joined him, I let out another gasp. Sitting on their horses were all of the officers who attended the feast, save one, but it was the fact their hands were obviously bound behind them, and because several of the mounted Parisii around them were carrying torches, we could see that they all had marks around their faces and heads, particularly Mus and Gemellus, that indicated they had been beaten.

  As shocking as this was, it was the sight of Ivomagus, also astride his horse and surrounded by horsemen, that ignited in me a feeling of such utter yet helpless rage that before I could stop myself, I was shouting, “What have you done, you fucking barbarian? You savage! We trusted you to be honorable and you betrayed us! Where is the Pilus Prior?”

  Ivomagus sat impassively, saying nothing during my diatribe, waiting for me to be done. I was not actually finished, but I had to draw a breath, which he took as the sign to speak.

  “Your Centurion is alive and relatively unharmed,” he called out. “But as you all know, your Centurion disobeyed the orders of our King, my brother Cogidubnus, and by doing so, he has almost certainly risked war with our enemies, the Brigantes. In anticipation of that, my brother has decided that, while you will all be allowed to leave unharmed and unmolested tomorrow, we will be holding Centurion Pullus here until we are compensated by Rome for the expenses we will be incur fighting our enemies because of his actions.”

  I could not even think of anything to say, and when I glanced over at Saloninus, I could see he was in a similar state. It was extremely difficult to do so, but I forced myself to think.

  “Let’s get the others released,” I muttered to Saloninus, thinking that it would be appropriate for him to demand this.

  He pointed down at our officers as he said harshly, “And what about the injuries to our men? Are they going to be compensated,” he used the word Ivomagus had with a disdain that I could see Ivomagus heard and understood, “for their injuries? And,” he went on, “I demand that you release them now!”

  “You are in no position to demand anything, Centurion Saloninus,” Ivomagus shot back, and I saw that he was angered, or perhaps he was feigning it; I do not know. “Do I need to remind you that you are heavily outnumbered and far from home?”

  It was as the Parisii was speaking that I sensed movement behind me, except when I turned to look Saloninus hissed, “Don’t turn around!”

  Ivomagus did not notice, because he was continuing, “As far as the injuries to your men, as you can see, they are minor. Besides,” he gave a shrug, “we told them not to resist, but they chose to do so.”

  I do not know if he intended to say something else because Saloninus, with a simple gesture, changed everything, as more than two dozen rankers suddenly appeared along the rampart. They were wearing only their tunics, a sign of how hastily they had assembled, but the two pila they were holding spoke more loudly than anything Saloninus could have said.

  Although he did emphasize the point, “We may be outnumbered, but not right now. And,” he indicated the men on either side, all of whom were now holding one pilum in the ready position, “my boys here can’t miss at this range, thanks to your torches. You and the rest of your bunch will look like fucking porcupines. Now,” he bellowed, “RELEASE OUR OFFICERS!”

  It was obvious Ivomagus did not like this, but after a couple of heartbeats, he gave a curt nod, and one by one, their bonds were cut, and while they were not assisted by the Parisii in any way, they were at least not molested in dismounting. Quite understandably, they all hurried to the Porta Praetoria, weaving through the gate into the camp and safety.

  “We’re not leaving,” Saloninus said. “Not unless we’re ordered to do so by our Pilus Prior. Only if he says we go do we go. Do you understand, you treacherous cunnus?”

  “Very well,” Ivomagus replied, and the manner in which he did so indicated to me that they had intended to at least let us see Gnaeus. Which, when I thought about it, made sense. He turned his horse, giving a command to the twenty mounted warriors with him, and over his shoulder to us, he said, “We will be returning shortly, with the Centurion.”

  We watched them ride off, and Saloninus turned to me, saying quietly, “The Pilus Prior trusts you and I know you’re a clever man, Alex. What do you think we should do?”

  I hated to do it, but I answered honestly, “I think we’re going to have to do what they want us to if we want Gnaeus to survive.”

  It is probably not surprising when I say that the first sensation I can recall next was a stabbing pain along the right side of my head, but when I reflexively reached up to probe the wound, which I could feel was bleeding, I discovered I was bound. My initial reaction was to groan as I thought, Not again! There was a difference, however; I was not tied to a chair but instead was sitting on a stool, and when I opened my eyes, I could see immediately because there was no hood over my head like the last time in Bacchus’ Delight. What I saw, however, was another matter, because it was the smiling face of that black-bearded bastard Berdic, although the smile he was giving me held nothing but cruelty and a message that what pain I was feeling now was nothing compared to what he had in mind. Somehow, I understood that it was actually a fortunate thing that, standing just behind him, arms crossed, was Cogidubnus, although it was the third person in the room who filled me with rage.

  “You bitch!” I snarled, and without thinking, I began to stand
, since I had not been secured, causing Bronwen to flinch and take a step backward, but it was Berdic who, brandishing what I assumed was the cudgel he had used to knock me out that made me sit back down with a threatening gesture, but I was not through. “You’re a lying, filthy whore!”

  I suppose I should have noticed that all was not well with Bronwen; oh, I did notice that her eyes were puffy and she was very pale, while her eyes kept darting over to Cogidubnus, who gave no sign that my epithets meant anything to him.

  “I…I am loyal to my people, Centurion,” Bronwen finally spoke. “When my King commands me, I obey.”

  Again, I should have been listening carefully, but between the throbbing in my head and using what wits I had gathered trying to figure out a way to break my bonds to kill the two cunni in front of me, I was preoccupied. She paused as if she expected me to say something, and I realized it was obvious.

  “What do you want?” I asked, still not really understanding what was happening.

  She glanced at Cogidubnus, who nodded, and she began, “Because of your rash move against the Brigantes, you have endangered our kingdom and its people. King Cogidubnus is expecting an attack at any moment now because of your actions, and I know that as a Roman, you understand that wars cost money.” She paused, took a breath, then continued, “Therefore, my King is holding you hostage, and until he receives what he considers the appropriate amount, you will remain our prisoner.”

  “That’s a load of cac,” I snarled. “He’s been planning this all along and is just using that business with the Brigantes as an excuse!”

  “Does that really matter, Centurion?” Bronwen asked in a quieter tone of voice that managed to penetrate the haze of anger threatening to overwhelm me, and I actually did notice that Cogidubnus had said nothing, indicating these were her own words, not that I was appreciative. “You are here, and King Cogidubnus has no intention of letting you go until he is compensated by Rome.”

  The turmoil I was feeling was intensifying with every heartbeat, and I realized that this was not the time for that beast inside me to be unleashed, if for the only reason that I was already somewhat addled by the blow to my head, so I needed to retain what wits I possessed.

  I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, then asked, “How much does he want for my release?”

  Somewhat surprisingly, Bronwen did not seem to know the answer, because she looked to Cogidubnus and said something that sounded like a question; what was even stranger was that Cogidubnus clearly had not thought about it. Rather than answer immediately, he rubbed his chin, looking at me thoughtfully, then finally rattled off some gibberish.

  Bronwen actually gave me a hint by the manner in which she responded, with a small gasp, her mouth dropping open, and if anything, going even paler.

  Reluctantly, she faced me and I learned why she was so shocked, because she shifted it to me when she said, “The King is demanding your weight in gold in compensation.”

  I am sitting here, trying to think of a way to describe how I felt in that moment, yet I cannot think of any words that would accurately convey it.

  As far as that moment, I vaguely recalling gasping, “Is he fucking mad?” Then, I forced myself to think, and something occurred to me. “Are you sure that he’s not demanding a talent of gold? Not that that’s any more possible, but is that what he means?”

  “A talent?” Bronwen repeated, obviously unfamiliar with the word, and under other circumstances, I would have found the manner in which she cocked her head charming, but I still was more interested in killing her than bedding her at that point in time. “I am not familiar with this word, but I will ask the King.” She addressed Cogidubnus, and I studied his expression; the way his brow furrowed in puzzlement gave me the answer before she did, so I was prepared for her to turn back to me and say, “King Cogidubnus has no knowledge of a talent or what it weighs. He said this is the customary method we use here between the tribes in such matters and he assumed that you would be familiar with it.”

  Speaking in strict terms, I could see the parallels between the Briton system and what is used in our world, and frankly, the problem was less in the measurement than in the fact that I weigh a hundred pounds more than the average Roman man.

  Deciding this was fruitless to pursue, I asked Bronwen, “Why does King Cogidubnus think that I would have access to that much gold?”

  She relayed my question, and he did not hesitate to reply, and I heard the answer before she gave his answer when Cogidubnus said the name, the answer being, “Because you are close to Germanicus, Centurion. You said yourself that he thinks highly of you, and the King knows that Germanicus is very powerful, second only to your Imperator Tiberius, which means he is very wealthy. The King is certain he will be willing to pay for your safe return.”

  Gnaeus, what the fuck have you done? Your big mouth might get you killed. This was what was running through my head, because there was no way that I was going to ask Germanicus for help, but I also could not tell Cogidubnus this if I wanted to remain alive, at least until my men departed, since there was no way they would depart without trying to kill every last Parisii to avenge my death. And, as I had assured Ivomagus and Cogidubnus, they would kill more than their share of Parisii, but the numbers were too heavily in their favor.

  “Well,” I spoke finally, “the only way that has a chance of happening is if I’m allowed to talk to Centurion Saloninus.”

  When she translated this, Cogidubnus did not hesitate to reply, and I learned why when Bronwen said, “Yes, the King anticipated this. We have a horse outside, and you will be escorted to their camp so that you can instruct your Centurion on what to do.”

  Before she was finished, Cogidubnus was moving towards me, gesturing at me to rise, and while I did, I did not move.

  Instead, I twisted at the waist and thrust my hands out as I demanded, “What about cutting my bonds? My hands are asleep.”

  He shook his head, although he did say something to Bronwen, who explained, “The King says that once your men have departed tomorrow, you will be freed, not before then.”

  It was, I thought, a sensible precaution, but it did not make me want to kill him any less. However, it was Berdic who made the mistake of taking his eyes off me as I was passing by, but I did not. I knew it would hurt, and would addle me even more, yet I did not hesitate to whip my head forward with as much force as I could muster, my forehead smashing into his nose, hard enough that I felt the blood from his shattered nose spray across my face, which added to the blood from the stitches I tore out by doing it. He staggered back, and I would have kicked him in the groin, but Cogidubnus reached out and grabbed me by the back of my tunic, yanking me back from Berdic, who was holding his face in both hands, blood pouring through his fingers. Cogidubnus was strong, I will give him that; still, he was not in the same class as I am, and I instantly knew that I could send him flying just by essentially bending over at the waist with enough power, but I refrained. He shouted something in my ear as he shoved me down the hallway formed by the partitions at the back of the hall, which Bronwen practically had to yell as she hurried after us.

  “The King says that was a very foolish thing to do. But,” she added, “he also does not blame you for it.”

  I heard the rushing footsteps behind us, but it was actually Cogidubnus who spun about and bellowed at the onrushing Berdic, and I did not need to know his tongue to understand that this was a command, issued by a superior to a subordinate that the subordinate would be very foolish to disobey. Berdic snarled something, but there was a new nasal quality to his voice that made me grin, which he saw over Cogidubnus’ shoulder, his mustache and beard soaked with his blood, which also got on his teeth so that he looked like a ravening wolf as he shouted his promise to destroy me, which needed no translation. I was not surprised that Berdic obeyed, sullenly, then we began moving again, walking through the hall where men and women were sprawled out on the hardpacked dirt floor, mostly between the tables, although I saw a f
air number of people stretched out on one of the tables, and two couples who had evidently been in the act of copulating before they passed out. Exiting the hall, I saw Ivomagus sitting on his horse, looking down at me impassively, and for the second time, I had to fight the sudden surge of rage that, if anything, was even more powerful, and I struggled to keep the beast within myself.

  “You,” I spat on the ground, “are the worst of all, you son of a whore! You betrayed us! You’re only free because…”

  “I am only free because that ship was so badly damaged that you had no choice, Centurion,” he said coldly. “If we had been able to land in Gaul, I and every other Parisii man would still be enslaved. So,” he pointed down at me, his mouth twisting, “do not dare talk to me of treachery!”

  Before I could reply, a man led a horse up to me then made as if to help me mount. I glared at him until he moved out of the way, then with my hands tied behind my back, I leapt up onto the back of the horse. Despite the circumstances and the poor lighting from the torches in the brackets on either side of the doorway, I saw that Ivomagus and Cogidubnus were impressed; that I had once practiced doing so with Latobius because of a wager I had made with Marcus Macer was something they did not need to know. Ivomagus led the way back towards Petuar, and I saw that Saloninus had ordered that the rampart be illuminated along its length with torches every few paces. We do this when we are expecting an attack, and once we got within a couple hundred paces, I spotted the shadowed outlines of helmets that told me he had both Centuries, armored and ready for anything, which bolstered my belief that I had made the best choice for my Pilus Posterior. We approached the Porta Praetoria slowly, although I was not particularly worried that my own men would skewer me, drawing closely enough so that I did not have to yell. It also enabled me to see that standing next to Saloninus was Alex, and I immediately made a decision.