by C. R. May
The day was glorious, with all the bitterness of the winter months now but a rapidly receding memory, and their spirits were high as they gained the small stone bridge and clattered across. The River Anio marked the border here between the lands of Rome and those of the Umbrians to the east, and the chieftain reined in before the nervous looking man. He smiled disarmingly. ‘How much?’
The Roman shrank back, obviously hoping that one of his guards would challenge the column of shaggy giants who had appeared before their sleepy outpost; the Celts laughed at their reluctance to do so. They could hardly be blamed as obviously neither were fighting men, and although they were well armed it was plain to all that they had allowed the more sedentary aspects of their duties affect their jowls and waistlines. Solemis smiled again and cocked a brow. His command of the Latin tongue was now absolute, and he was beginning to find to his surprise that he relished every opportunity that came his way to use it. It really was a quite melodic language. ‘I asked you how much. Did you not hear me?’
Giving up all hope of aid from his guards the Roman official looked back along the great column and cleared his throat as he replied. ‘Ten aes.’
Solemis twisted in his saddle and cast a look back at the Umbrian, Brizio. ‘Is that a lot?’
Brizio shook his head slowly in mock disappointment. ‘An aes is a small bar of bronze. The Romans do not use coins like civilised people.’
Solemis turned back. ‘My friend tells me that is not enough.’
The Roman sighed and he held out his hands. ‘Fifteen aes?’
Solemis shook his head and drew his sword with a flourish. ‘More.’
With a final scowl at his statuesque guards the man sighed. ‘Thirty aes. That is all that we have here.’
The tax collector indicated that a guard retrieve the bronze from the hut with a flick of his head, and while they waited Solemis studied the man. He fairly oozed the sense of superiority that had been so apparent in all of their dealings with the citizens of Rome so far. Even the common people had swarmed out onto the area known as the Field of Mars to gawp and poke fun at he and his men the previous autumn. Despite that he had not felt hatred towards the city and its inhabitants until this moment, but the man’s demeanour had caused a change within him. Solemis waited until the guard emerged with a bag of tablets and indicated that he hand it up to his clansman, Druteos. A glance back at the tax collector served to seal the man’s fate. ‘We are twice the size of you and your pathetic guards, wear finer clothing and carry superior arms and armour to that which I have seen worn by even those you call patricians, yet you look upon us like beasts and call us barbarians.’
He sniffed with disdain and the man shifted uncomfortably as he began to realise that he had been unable to keep the scornful look from his features. He was now in deep trouble and he knew it. Solemis continued as a hard edge entered his voice. ‘I was going to let you live to carry the news of our arrival back to your masters in the city, but I have decided that you must be a fool.’ Solemis’ sword flicked out to take the man in the throat, and he reached down and wiped the blood from the tip on the Roman’s shoulder as the tax collector staggered forward and his eyes went wide in horror. The Senone chieftain watched as the man slumped to the roadway, shaking his head wearily as the blood pumped out to darken the dust. ‘These lands contain more than their fair share of fools already. I daresay that you will not be missed.’
The sudden act of violence seemed to spur the guards into action, and dropping their weapons they made off across the field to the rear of the hut. The field had been newly sown, and the men in the column roared with laughter at the overweight Romans’ attempts at flight. The clayey soils near the riverbank were glutinous, and soon the men were barely moving forward as their feet began to resemble balls of sticky mud. When one of the men fell forward into the ooze Solemis’ face flushed with anger as the entire column hooted and cried with laughter. He was the only Senone on the Roman side of the Anio and already the raid was beginning to descend into farce. He wheeled Tantibus about so that the men could see his expression and snapped an order. ‘Berikos, Galatus: ride those bastards down and leave them nothing but a red smear in the soil. This is a war not a festival!’
His clansmen nodded and kicked in as those close enough to hear their leader lowered their gaze in embarrassment. Solemis called out across the bridge as Berikos began to wheel his mount across the field. ‘What’s so funny?’ Solemis let the question hang as the laughter trailed away and an uncomfortable hush settled over the column. He let the silence stretch until even the cries made by the dying guards seemed to have lost their appeal. ‘That’s right, nothing. This is a war, and the first of thousands has just died.’ He paused again and waited for Berikos and Galatus to regain their positions before continuing. ‘When you cross this bridge you will enter the lands of the Romans. They think of us as little more than beasts of the forest, and if they don’t yet hate us I aim to ensure that they very soon will. When you cross this bridge look at the man lying here and remember that if you treat this raid with anything less than total commitment you too will end your days bleeding out in the dust.’
Solemis inhaled deeply. He was beginning to regain his composure, and he was aware that he could easily go too far. Each man here owed allegiance to his clan; these were not citizen armies like those in the south. They would fight for personal reward and reputation under a leader they followed voluntarily, but he wanted to drive the message home. He had seen the Romans up close and knew just how dangerous they were. ‘For many of you this will be a new kind of war, and you will need to discipline yourselves more than you are accustomed to.’ He looked along the line and knew that he held their attention. ‘There is honour and reputation here for the right type of man, but if you feel that your qualities would be put to better use in the main army you can leave now with my blessing and I will recommend you to Brennus. I have seen you all on the ride through Umbria and know that you are the right men for this. Now is the time to prove it to yourselves.’ Solemis waited patiently but no man moved, and he nodded with satisfaction as he turned his mount’s head back to the South. Urging Tantibus into a trot, he motioned to Druteos. ‘Fire the hut, and then toss the bronze in the river. Let them know that we have arrived.’
As the first flames of the campaign flickered into life to lick at the eaves of the tax collector’s station Solemis let his thoughts wander back over the journey so far. It had taken them a full month of hard riding to get to the Anio; skirting the foothills of the Apeninnus, they had intercepted the Via Salaria and swung to the west as it climbed steadily before them.
* * *
The Umbrian senate had held to its word, and it had seemed as if every man with produce to spare for miles around had made their way directly towards their intended route. At first the Umbrian brothers, Brizio and Rodolfo, had been in great demand as interpreters until the Celts had discovered that the Etruscan silver that they still carried in great quantities seemed to speak the language of Umbrian merchants just as fluently as any other. Consequently, supplies had never been the problem that they could easily have been with a large force moving through friendly country and unable to pillage, but the idea that they would emerge from the salt road into an unsuspecting countryside had appeared to be laughable. Roman merchants operated freely in the area, and Solemis’ worries had grown by the day. Miraculously, news of their destination seemed to have remained on the eastern side of the mountains. Anastasios’ sons had been invaluable; able to range far and wide among the local population without raising any suspicion, they had discovered that the Romans were expecting the force to take the main mountain pass that carried the Via Flaminia past the cities of Spoletium and Nequinum, and had made their disposition accordingly.
After this first meeting at the border post it was obvious now to Solemis that they had completely wrong-footed the Romans by taking the Via Salaria, and his spirits rose to new heights. Free now of the confines of the pass the rich far
mlands of the Latini opened up before them as they put the mountains and the Anio behind them.
* * *
‘One more?’
Solemis rubbed his face and stifled a yawn as he pondered his friend’s question. Twisting in the saddle, he raised his arm as he sought to gauge the hour. The arc of the sun rested on the ledge of his hand; it was growing late. ‘No, the men need rest.’ He gave a weary chuckle. ‘I need a rest! Besides,’ he continued, ‘this place looks perfect.’
Albiomaros snorted at the reply, hauling gently at the reins as he turned the head of his mount. ‘I will tell the boys. I like to be popular.’
Solemis scanned the lime-washed collection of buildings in the dip before them as fifty riders detached themselves from each end of the line and galloped down into the vale. After a week of raiding the men knew without need of any further instruction from their leader what was required, and Solemis watched as the groups passed on opposite sides of the latifundium and curved around to draw the inhabitants into their net. Berikos and his group galloped out of the line and headed straight for the big wooden gates as they did so, and Solemis was relieved when they passed between them and into the interior. If the inhabitants could have closed the doors in time to deny them entry they would have been faced with a full day’s ride to leave the area as the occupants raised the surrounding countryside against them. The scouts had missed this place, tucked away as it was, and they had been surprised to come upon it as they had crested the ridge. It was a warning that they were becoming tired after nearly three gruelling weeks of raiding and living off the land. They would need to stay sharp, Solemis knew, or they could easily become trapped a hundred miles from the rest of the army. His plans had worked perfectly so far; it would be a shame to die so close to the end, he thought with a snort of irony.
The transit of Umbria had been flawless. Thanks to Rodolfo and Brizio’s familiarity with the land and the route of the salt road he had been able to judge the moment when they would arrive at the Latin border to perfection. The full moon had flooded the land with its pale light for the first few days as they sought to put as much distance between themselves and the Apeninnus as quickly as possible. That first week had passed by in a weary haze of forced rides against a backdrop of strung up estate owners and torched settlements. By the time the moon had waned they were deep within the lands of the Romans and travelling faster than any warning of their presence. Keeping well clear of any towns they had zigzagged randomly about the land, completely outwitting any chasing force that might be trailing them. As the nights grew darker Solemis had modified their tactics; far from the mountains now they had arrived in the deep soils of the Roman heartlands. The latifundia here were larger and grander, and the Senone chieftain knew that these were the lands owned by the elites of the great city to the north. By striking directly against the property of Rome’s leading men Solemis knew that he would cause the maximum amount of outrage and draw a correspondingly greater response. Given a further few days, he would have drawn most of the equites away from the city. Then he would melt away, rejoining Brennus in the north, as the Romans chased his shadow.
The south-facing slope before them was filled with ordered rows of vines, and they edged their mounts down between the greenery as the estate slaves dropped their tools and fled before them like a buff-coloured wave. The estate was one of the largest they had seen so far; high walls enclosed the whole, and a line of cypress trees stood sentinel along its southern edge, warding off the heat of the southern sun from the buildings and their occupants.
As the shadow of the gateway fell across Solemis he looked about the courtyard within and nodded to himself with satisfaction. The enclosure was wide and deep and would accommodate the men and their mounts with ease. Several bloodstained bodies marked the passage of Berikos and his men, and the slaves that had run before them in the vineyard were huddled in a fearful group in the far corner. Shouts and screams were coming from the main building, and he snorted as he imagined the scene there. Druteos came alongside him and Solemis indicated the building with a flick of his head. Immediately his clansman summoned fifty men, hurrying inside to support the Aeduan’s group as Solemis dismounted and stretched his weary limbs. He turned to Albiomaros and smiled at the look of contentment that passed across the big man’s features as he massaged his buttocks and restored the blood flow to aching limbs and muscles. ‘When you have finished, take care of the overseers and inform the cook he has hundreds of hungry guests.’
Albiomaros nodded and bustled off as Solemis handed his reins across to Rodolfo. The Umbrian had been correct when he had said that his family’s wedding gift to Solemis, the horse Tantibus, would quickly adjust to a new owner. The animal was as intelligent as they had promised, and Solemis had watched in wonder as the relationship between Rodolfo and the horse had subtly changed from one of master and property to one more akin to friendship.
The estate slaves were beginning to recover their composure as the realisation that they were not about to be killed out of hand by these strangers began to sink in. Several were already enthusiastically pointing out other slaves, those who had been appointed by the owners to positions of authority over them. Berikos had been a slave in Etruria, and he had told Solemis that these trusted men and women were often the most savage of all, jealously guarding the small privileges that had been granted to them by the owners. They deserved their fate, and Solemis barely glanced their way as Albiomaros moved among them, dispatching the shrieking men and women with a thrust of his spear. As the house slaves were brought out and added to the group, Solemis addressed them. ‘Slaves! You have your freedom if that is your wish, but understand that we cannot offer any aid other than to let you take what food and stores you will need for your journey. You all know the punishments for running from your masters, and the decision is yours. All that I ask is that you remain here until we leave in the morning. Anyone who feels that they cannot wait should know that I have men in the fields outside who will kill you as quickly as any Roman.’ He paused and swept the group with a look. Satisfied by their colouring that there were none among them from the far north, he concluded his address to them. ‘Get some rest and make your plans. You have much to consider.’
Before the excited slaves could begin to think they suddenly turned as a group towards the villa, and Solemis knew from the looks on their faces that Berikos had arrived back with the owners. He had seen the strange look on many faces these last few weeks – a unique blend of horror, delight and incredulity as they witnessed the sudden and complete fall of the people they had thought to be untouchable only an hour before. He swung around as the Aeduan pushed them roughly into the courtyard with the butt of his lancea.
To his disappointment the paterfamilias seemed to be absent, but the middle-aged woman there was obviously too grand to be a tenant and the family resemblance of the young women at her side was clear. Despite their predicament the matriarch clearly regarded the Gauls before her with the same degree of haughty contempt that they had become familiar with over the course of the previous few weeks.
Solemis left the slaves and walked across as the closest warriors unsaddled their horses and exchanged knowing looks. ‘My name is Solemis, and you are?’ For a heartbeat he thought that he saw a look of recognition flash across the woman’s face at the mention of his name, but she quickly regained her composure and calmly stared into the middle distance. He gave a weary sigh; if the woman had but known her attitude had cost more than one of her contemporaries their lives during the past few weeks. When they had begun their attacks the Celts had been unprepared for the arrogant demeanour of the Roman women, until Berikos had come to Solemis one day and explained that the easiest way to strip them of their haughtiness was to remove their overdeveloped sense of dignity. To Solemis’ relief it never ceased to have the desired result, and although the men and boys were always killed before they moved on the females were left to choose their fate. As the courtyard filled with men and horses and the big o
ak doors were closed behind them, Solemis indicated the Roman’s stola. ‘Remove your clothing.’
The woman’s head jerked backwards in shock, and she turned towards him at last with all the haughtiness driven away and the now familiar look of incredulity written across her face. Solemis watched as she visibly reasserted her composure and sought to retain some control of the situation. ‘My name is Licinia…’ She hesitated for a heartbeat, and Solemis knew that she had been about to say more but thought better of it, before continuing with a familiar threat. ‘You are making a grave mistake, barbarian.’
The last word was spat out accompanied by an undisguised sneer and Solemis stifled a yawn. It had been a long day; they were all tired and really needed to slake their thirst. He made to question her further but decided that he didn’t really care enough to wait for the answer. All the women they had encountered so far had been keen to announce their family names as if it would protect them as they called down the vengeance of their menfolk on the hapless Celts, and he decided that it was probably that. No doubt she was the wife of a man of great importance, but at that moment he didn’t care who that man might be. He shrugged as he shot Berikos and his men a look, and although their grasp of Latin was rudimentary at best they had heard the conversation enough times since they had been in the south to follow most of it. They chuckled as he replied. ‘Oh, I don’t think that it is a grave mistake. You shouldn’t denigrate yourself too much; you still look firm, despite your age. Let my men decide, they have become good judges of Roman female flesh over the past few weeks.’ He nodded his thanks as one of the men with Berikos handed across the first cup of wine of the night, and the woman stiffened with anger at the insult. ‘Now, the clothing please, all of it.’
