by R. W. Peake
I felt certain that he knew I was in the Centurionate and was having some fun at my expense, but I did not take the bait, simply saying, “I am the Quartus Pilus Prior of the 1st Legion.”
“The 1st?” This clearly startled him, but when he turned to ask his second if he recalled where the 1st was stationed, in Greek, I decided to pretend as if I did not understand, thinking it might come in handy. The second was correct, answering that it was Ubiorum, and Demeter asked curiously, “What is the Centurion in command of a Cohort based in Germania on the Rhenus doing here, sailing in the opposite direction?”
“It’s a long story,” I told him, not intending to be more forthcoming, but then I thought about it and decided it did not hurt for him to know part of the story. “We were sailing back to Ubiorum when we were hit by a storm that damaged our ship and we were blown off course to the northwest. Part of the damage was losing our mast, and we were rowing south to land somewhere in Gaul when we were attacked by six ships.”
Unsurprisingly, this interested the Rhodian, except that he shook his head, not in a disbelieving manner, but in puzzlement.
“I have never heard there are pirates in the Mare Germania, at least from Gaul.”
“The navarch of our ship said the same thing,” I replied. “But it doesn’t really matter where they came from. What they did was force us to row even further west, which put us closer to Britannia than anywhere else, and we were out of water and almost out of food. So,” I shrugged, “we landed in Parisii lands.”
“You mean they let you land?” he asked, and this time, he was clearly skeptical, so I explained everything, about Ivomagus and the Parisii crew, and how we were seemingly allowed to effect repairs, deciding as I went not to mention our foray into Brigantes land. “The night before we were going to sail home, Cogidubnus hosted a feast and invited me and my officers to attend. Then,” I shrugged, “they beat my officers, knocked me out, and took me as a hostage demanding ransom. It was raised, but it cost my family more than they can afford.”
Demeter had been listening, and when I finished, he did not say anything for a long moment, staring ahead as we approached the mouth of the Rhodanus, and he broke the silence first.
“Forgive me for asking, Centurion, but none of that explains why you are going the wrong way?”
Whether it was the words themselves or the way in which he said it, I had to laughingly agree. “That’s a good question.” Just returning my mind to our present circumstances wiped the smile from my face, and I had to make a decision on how much to share. In my mind was Septimus’ conviction that Demeter was a pirate, and how people of a certain sort tend to congregate together, but I did not truly think that Demeter would be familiar with the name, so I explained, “Almost two years ago, a member of my family was tricked into putting up a large sum of money to buy a cargo that didn’t exist, and we have good information that the man who did it is in Alexandria. And,” I finished grimly, “I’m going to get whatever money the cunnus has left and return it to my family.”
Demeter did not say anything, prompting me to glance over at him, and he was frowning, but I was completely unprepared for him to ask, “Centurion, will you tell me more about this family member of yours? And how he was fooled?” I suppose he thought I might take offense, because he added, “I have no wish to embarrass this person, whoever it is, I assure you.”
Oh, I don’t think he’d be embarrassed now because he’s dead, and for the briefest instant, I thought about divulging that, then immediately discarded it not only as unimportant, but that it would lead to another series of questions I had no desire to answer. I did, however, give him the bare bones of the matter, explaining how Aviola, without using his name, had convinced Gaius that he had access to a fleet of ships and access to a supply of grain in Africa that would cover the shortage brought on by a drought in Gaul, thoroughly fooling Gaius and taking four hundred thousand sesterces of the fortune that had been built by my great-grandfather, then grown by Alex’s father. Naturally, I did not mention the amount, but by the time I was finished, Demeter was running his fingers through his beard, frowning in thought.
Finally, he said, “That sounds like something Decimus Mela does, and I’ve heard rumors that he’s either in Antioch. Or,” he glanced up at me, “in Alexandria.”
I tried to maintain an impassive demeanor, but my mind was racing as I tried to place the name, because I was almost certain that this was one of them Septimus had told us Aviola used.
“How do you know him?” I asked, searching for any signs of duplicity in his face, but what I saw there was not any hint of evasion.
“Because that son of a whore used me, and he almost got me killed,” he spat out the words. “He waved a fat purse in my face and told me that it was all mine if I just went with him to a taverna and pretend to be the master of a fleet of ships.” Whether it was because of the change in my demeanor, or he realized how this might sound, he added quickly, “It was not in Arelate, Centurion. No,” he shook his head disgustedly, “this was in Rhodes. And, I was much younger.”
“How did it almost get you killed?” I asked him coldly, crossing my arms as I did so, knowing that this makes my arms even larger.
“Because the man he was trying to cheat figured it out, and set his men on me,” he said bitterly. “Meanwhile, that bastard Mela jumped out a window and got away. They broke two of my ribs, my nose,” when he mentioned it, I could in fact see that it took something of a left turn about halfway down his face, “and addled my wits for a week.”
“I’m surprised they didn’t beat you to death,” I remarked, and while I kept my tone pleasant, I thought it would do no harm to say, “If it had been me, you wouldn’t be standing here.”
I expected this to anger him, but instead, he laughed and admitted cheerfully, “Centurion, I do not doubt you at all. The moment I set eyes on you, I knew that you’re a dangerous man. And,” he added surprisingly, “not just because of your size.”
“Oh?” I was intrigued, wondering what he would say.
“You are a killer, Centurion.” He did not say this as an accusation, or in a pejorative sense, at least not to my ears. “I know a killer when I see one.”
The gods know that I have always taken pride in my skills, even when that pride was unwarranted when I was a raw Equestrian doing my exercises on the Campus Martius in Mediolanum, but for some reason, I found Demeter’s words disturbing.
Perhaps he saw this in my eyes, because he said quickly, “That is not a judgment, Centurion, just an observation based on my experience. And,” he added, “that is not a bad thing in your profession, is it?”
“No,” I acknowledged, “it’s not.” I returned to the original subject. “So it sounds like you don’t have much love for this Decimus Mela.”
The oath he offered was in Greek, but while I understood it, it did not make sense to me; what mattered was him saying emphatically, “If I ever get my hands on him again, I swear to you this, Centurion.” He looked up at me with a blazing intensity, “If he is the same man that you are seeking, it will be a race to see who gets to him first.”
I returned to the cabin the share the news and to discuss how to handle it.
“Did you believe him?” Alex asked.
“About which part?”
“Both,” he replied.
I rubbed my chin as I thought, something I was not aware that I did until Bronwen pointed it out to me.
Finally, I said, “No, I don’t believe that he was just an innocent victim who got duped by Aviola. But,” I nodded, “yes, I do believe him about wanting to kill him.”
“Then how can we use that to our advantage?” Septimus mused, and it was silent for a span.
“I don’t think we should tell him that we know with any certainty that Decimus Mela is the same man we’re looking for,” Alex spoke. “But I think dropping hints that we think that’s the case will just…encourage him to get us to Alexandria as quickly as possible.”
Septimus nodded, and it made sense to me as well. Alex and Septimus went back to their game, while Bronwen, who had been sitting watching, continued to do so silently. Then, suddenly, she lifted her head from the board and looked over at me, her green eyes shining with excitement.
“I do not know why, but it just hit me. We,” she began laughing, “are going to Alexandria!”
It would have been easy to tease her, but as soon as she said it, I realized something; this was the first time I had really thought about it as well. Clapping her hands, she suddenly became so animated that she was bouncing off her seat, while Alex and Septimus looked on, amused and happy at her excitement. And, in the back of my head was the image of the Praetorium of Ubiorum, where Germanicus was presumably waiting for one of his Centurions to return. Wisely, I did not mention this.
It was not until the morning of the second day when we learned why Gaius Gallienus was missing at our departure from the villa. The first indication that something was amiss came when we heard someone bellowing down belowdecks, interrupting the conversation between me, Bronwen, Alex, and Septimus as we stood, out of the way, on the main deck. It was impossible to tell what was being said, but we all turned in the direction from which the shouting had originated, and we did not have to wait long to see Marcellus’ head pop into view as he ascended the ladder, but it immediately became clear he was using one hand to drag something with him. Somehow—I am not sure how—Marcellus managed to both climb the ladder and maintain his grasp on what turned out to be a furiously struggling figure. And, it made sense that it was Septimus who was the first to recognize the identity of what we could at least see was a male.
“Pluto’s cock,” he gasped. “That’s Gaius!”
He was correct, and once he was fully up on the deck, with Marcellus still grasping him firmly by one arm, he apparently decided that further struggle was useless, but when Marcellus began guiding him, it was away from us, towards the stern.
That was when I recalled, “He never saw Gaius with us. He doesn’t know that he’s with us.”
Cupping my hands, I called to Marcellus, who turned with a puzzled expression, but when I beckoned to him, he turned about and, still holding Gaius’ arm, came back in our direction. Demeter, having seen the disturbance, was naturally interested, and he handed the steering oar to another crewman, then went scrambling down the ladder to the main deck to follow Marcellus and his captive. Who, to my eyes, looked to be both scared out of his wits, but also mulishly determined, his chin stuck out in a gesture that seemed familiar to me, though I did not place it until later, when I recall my mother accusing me of doing that very thing when I had my mind set on something that she was set on talking me out of for some reason.
“I would ask,” Marcellus said as the pair approached, “but I can tell by the way you’re looking at him that you know him.”
“Oh,” Alex said angrily, “we know him. He’s my brother.”
“Half-brother,” Gaius spoke for the first time, and while it was said with the same kind of anger Alex had displayed, I was certain there was more to it, which he confirmed by reminding his older sibling, “That’s what you say, anyway. I’m just your half-brother.”
I glanced over at Alex, and it was clear that this had wounded him, but instead of lashing out, he sighed and answered, “You’re right, Gaius. But we’ll talk about that later. Besides,” he said sternly, “the half of me that is your brother wants to know what you were thinking.”
“And why are you here?” Septimus asked.
To me, the answer was obvious, so before Gaius could speak for himself, I did it for him, “He’s a Pullus, his family is in trouble, and he wants to help.”
“That is all very nice,” a new voice cut in, and we all turned to see Demeter had reached our group, and he was even angrier than Alex, understandably so in my view, “but I want to know how you got aboard this ship, past my men on watch! Because,” he growled, “when I find out who was standing watch, they’re going to wish they had never been born! Now,” he poked a finger in Gaius’ face, “you tell me everything!”
Before he said anything, Gaius glanced over at us, but surprisingly, he looked at me as if he was asking my permission, so I nodded.
“I waited until it was dark and everyone went to sleep in the villa,” he began, looking only at the deck. “Then I went to the docks, and I watched your ship for a long time. I saw that the man who was standing there walked from the back to the front, and he would stay there for a bit, then turn around and come back. So,” he shrugged, “I waited until he had passed the plank onto the ship as he was going back to the front, and I came onboard. And,” Marcellus allowed him to twist his body to point to the ladder down to the lower deck, “I climbed down that.”
Demeter’s expression was still one of anger, but he growled, “First thing, boy, is that the front is called the bow, and the rear is called the stern.” Then, he asked Marcellus, “Where did you find him?”
“I caught him coming out of that stack of crates,” Marcellus answered, but then he added ruefully, “or maybe I should say he caught me, because he scared the cac out of me popping up like he did.”
Seeing everyone looking at him, Gaius apparently felt the need to explain, “I moved some of the crates and made a space between them where I could hide. But,” his face turned red, “I had to piss.”
Most of us chuckled at this, and while Demeter did not, I saw that he was not quite as angry as before, so I decided to take matters into my own hands.
“Marcellus, take the prisoner,” I was using the tone I would have used with a ranker, and I ignored Gaius’ look of alarm at the characterization of his status, “to go take a piss over the side.” Marcellus seemed to grasp what I was doing, because to my surprise, he answered crisply, “I understand and will obey, Centurion.”
Once I saw that Marcellus understood that I wanted Gaius out of earshot, I addressed Demeter, intending to forestall what I was certain would come up by reminding him, “As I recall, we paid for eight passengers, and only seven of us came aboard.”
It was easy to see that he did not like it, but he agreed, “You are correct, Centurion. But,” he pointed at Gaius, “I still want to know exactly how he got aboard my ship, and when.”
“Why is when he did it important?” Septimus asked, and I knew the answer before it came out of Demeter’s mouth.
“Because when I find out which one of my crew was standing watch, I am going to flay him,” he snapped.
In the Legions, Centurions and Optios threaten their men with being flayed all the time, but it is never something we would ever do, at least not taking all of a man’s skin off of him. However, there was something about Demeter that led me to believe that this threat may actually have been literal in nature.
More to steer the conversation away from this topic, I broached what, in my mind, was the most important issue, asking the others, “And what do we do with Gaius?”
“Stop at the first port and put him ashore with just enough money to get home and nowhere else,” Alex answered immediately, and completely unsurprisingly.
When I glanced over at Septimus, however, he was not nodding his head in affirmation, prompting me to ask, “You don’t seem to think this is a good idea, Septimus. Why?”
Obviously, this startled him, and he protested, half-heartedly to my ears, “It’s not that I don’t think it’s a good idea. It’s just that,” he paused, pursing his lips in thought, then continued, “as you know, he’s been working with me quite a bit. And, Gnaeus, he is a very clever lad, and,” he laughed, “resourceful, as we all can see.”
“That’s nice to know,” Alex interrupted, “but it’s got nothing to do with whether we put him ashore or not.” Gesturing to the stern in the general vicinity of Arelate, he went on, “My mother is undoubtedly beside herself now. Her youngest son has disappeared, and I’m not willing to put her through that. Are any of you?”
He asked this in a challenging manner, and I made up my
mind then to do what Alex was demanding, but Septimus was not through.
“Alex, I understand what you’re saying,” he began, “but he’s not just clever, he’s very observant. He has this…” he searched for a word, coming up with “…gift where he can read people and situations. I’ve never seen anything like it.” One glance back to Alex told me that, while this had an impact, it would not be enough, and Septimus clearly saw this as well, because he continued to argue, “When we get to Alexandria, we’re going to need as many eyes as we can get to try and track…” I was about to interrupt, worried that Septimus was about to unthinkingly divulge Aviola’s real identity in front of Demeter, but he either saw me opening my mouth, or he had already planned for this, “…this cunnus back to where he’s living.”
This was a good point because we had learned of Aviola’s multiple residences, scattered throughout a city that rivals Rome in the size of its population, and for a moment, I thought this might have convinced Alex, because he reluctantly agreed, “Yes, I can see that. And you’re right, it would be valuable. But,” he shook his head, “my mother will still be out of her mind with worry.”
“Perhaps you might ask Gaius if he let her know somehow.”
All of our eyes turned to Bronwen, who was the one to make the suggestion, and I could not stifle a groan at the obviousness of it; most importantly, I saw that Alex was of the same mind. By this point, Gaius had finished relieving himself, so he and Marcellus were standing there, and I was certain that the fact that Gaius had his back to us was no accident, that Marcellus had made him do so. Since my lungs are the biggest and most accustomed to bellowing, the others silently but clearly deferred to me, leaving me to call the pair back to us. If anything, Gaius seemed even more reluctant to return to what I suppose he viewed as a trial, where the judges and jury were the same people, which was understandable.
Once he was standing in front of us again, Alex wasted no time. “Did you leave any kind of message for Mama, Gaius?”
