by C K Ruppelt
“Always feels good to watch somebody else doing the drilling, doesn’t it?” Oz commented.
“You could say that,” Gulussa answered with a laugh. Oz’s turma had sentry duty on the wall of the Ninth legion’s camp, and the men were spread out among the legionaries. Oz had stopped at Gulussa’s post as he did his round to check in with everybody. They looked out over a wide field filled by a cohort of legionaries performing maneuver drills.
The ranks included many raw recruits that had signed up a year or less ago, brought in to bring the Ninth back to full strength. One of these young men kept missing his turns, clearly not remembering left from right.
After several wrong turns, the commanding centurion had enough. “Column HAAALT!”
The noncom walked to the legionary and stood in front of him for a couple of minutes. Without further warning, the centurion lifted his right foot and stomped down hard, hitting his victims left foot with a hobnailed caliga. The unfortunate young man fell over screaming.
“From here on you WILL remember where left is. It’s the side that hurts!” the centurion screamed. “Now go and see the medicus.”
Oz flinched, seeing the boy hobble off the field. Hopefully it’s not too bad and the medicus can help. They will make him drill and march again soon, and then he better be ready.
“There you are!” He heard from someone behind. He turned to the inside of the camp and saw Capussia approaching. “I just left a meeting in the command tent. Good times are over, we’re deploying,” he told them. “The camp prefect’s staff has already started to pack their supplies, and the legion as a whole is to break camp tomorrow morning. Lucius Cotta, our new legate, received an urgent courier this morning from Gaius Julius Caesar himself.”
“Any idea where to?” Gulussa asked.
They looked to their right where the slowly hobbling legionary had made it through the camp gate amid some loud moans of pain. Sorry, poor boy, rotten timing for you.
“West, to wherever the Tenth is. That’s all Cotta told us,” Capussia replied.
Oz and Gulussa nodded, the where didn’t really matter. Wherever the governor told them to go, they would, and get the job done.
696 AUC (58 BC), early summer
Eastern part of Roman Province of Gallia Cisalpina
“I thought we were moving fast when it was us three legions marching together from Aquileia,” Numerius stated. “Now we’re five, and we haven’t slowed down at all.” He looked at his friend marching next to him. I am so glad that you made it, I wouldn’t want to be here without you.
“Don’t know if you noticed, but it’s too fast for the families to keep up, most must be several days behind by now. We’re moving, what, an average of twenty miles a day?” his friend Vibius replied.
Three weeks ago, they had marched north into the low plains at the southern edge of the alps and turned west onto the Via Postumia, a well-built public road leading west to Mediolanum, where their governor Caesar had waited for them with two new legions numbered Eleventh and Twelfth.
“But now we’re marching straight for some steep looking mountains. If we don’t slow down soon, the families and servants will be on their own, with only the supply train for company. Many of the older veterans are worried,” Numerius added.
As if on cue, they heard the call to make camp just as they entered the foot hills of the mountain range in front of them. “It’s still early in the day, so either we encountered an enemy, or we camp to wait for the supply train. I guess the veterans won’t have to worry anymore.”
Half an hour later, they were both digging next to each other. “Are you glad that your foot is holding up well enough for full duty?” Their decanus asked Vibius with a smile on his lips.
“My answer depends on when in the day you ask me,” came the reply. The whole squad laughed and kept on digging. The sooner they were done, the sooner they could expect to pitch their tents, leaving time for clean-up and some leisure to cook dinner.
A couple hours later, Numerius watched his friend remove his left foot’s caliga inside their tent. They had another hour of rest before lights out, and most of the men sat outside around the tent’s cooking fire. Numerius sat on the cot next to Vibius’, holding a couple of oil lamps to help his friend see better. “Your foot looks a lot better. Even the dark color is mostly gone.”
“I won’t ever forget again where left is,” Vibius said before they both laughed.
“And you have a friend for life now. That centurion was so impressed by you marching on as if nothing happened, despite your foot being all black and blue.”
“Yeah, but I think he cares mostly because he feels bad. His timing could have been better,” Vibius answered regretfully.
“Is Numerius Churinas here? I have a letter for him.” They heard someone ask their tent mates outside.
“I’m here,” he called loudly as he got up. “I’m coming out.”
The voice belonged to a servant of the camp prefect who handed him a scroll. “Looks like this was on the road for a while.” With a nod, the man turned and walked away.
“Is it mail from home?” one of his comrades asked.
“Maybe, it’s hard to tell with all the marks and notes on the outside,” he said as he used his small knife to cut through the wax seal of the paper wrapping. He unrolled the papyrus and began to read. “Yes, it’s from my sister back home.”
He shook his head at the rowdy inquiries about her availability and level of attractiveness and walked back into the tent. He sat down on the cot to read the letter in earnest. His stomach dropped, and tears started falling as he continued to read.
He reread the letter and laid it down before looking up at Vibius, who finished rubbing salve on his foot. When Vibius finally glanced over he straightened with a worried expression. “What’s in that letter? Tell me.”
Numerius was unable to speak. He wiped his eyes and handed the letter over, and Vibius started to read. “By the gods, your father. I am so sorry.”
“That’s not the worst,” Numerius whispered. “Read on.”
“She says that your father’s moneylender swindled her, and she thinks she’ll be sold as a slave. By the gods!” Vibius burst out and came over to give him a tight hug. After a brief moment, his friend spoke up again, now deep in thought. “Do you know how old that letter is?”
Numerius handed the paper wrapper to Vibius to study all the notes added to the original. “It went all the way to Hispania and from there to Aquileia. It’s a miracle that it got delivered at all, most letters end up in the fire if they can’t be handed over at the first place. If it’s been all the way to Hispania first…”
“It has to be nearly a year old.” Numerius took a deep breath. “That also means that none of my letters or the money I sent made it to her.” He touched his friend’s hand. “Would you help me if I desert? I need to go to Clusium and look for her.”
If anything, Vibius looked even more shocked. “No, I can’t. You’ve seen what happens to deserters when they get caught.
“Well, yes, I’ve seen it a couple of times now.” Ordered beaten to death by your closest comrades is not a good way to leave this life.
“There might be other ways to help her,” Vibius mused. “How much do you have saved?”
“I have about four hundred sesterces. Only half of what’s owed,” Numerius said, feeling helpless.
“That’s no problem then, I will gladly add four hundred more. The question is how to get the money to her. We are stuck here in the legion, and we’re on campaign, so sending letters back and forth will take time and won’t be reliable.” They both stayed silent for a moment, until Vibius continued. “I wonder if the legion itself could help. Let’s ask, it can’t hurt. Is the decanus back yet? First, we talk to him, then maybe we ask to see the centurion.”
Thank you, my friend, without you I’d likely be on the run tomorrow and would get my head bashed in for it.
696 AUC (58 BC), early summer
&
nbsp; Twenty-five miles southwest of Vesontio, Free Gallia, heartland of the Sequani Nation
Ariovist opened the door to find the woman’s little girl blocking his way. The girl was in her own world, quietly playing on the floor of the small room. He shrugged and kicked her out of his way. The girl screamed in pain, and the hissing response by the woman on the cot made him smile. “I pity you,” he said in his broken Celtic accent. “I own you now, chieftain’s daughter of the Aedui. Your husband is dead, and you lost your other child.” He nodded at her stomach. “But you will have more, you are healing, and you are young still. Maybe you want a son or two by me?” He laughed at her expression of revolt and disgust. “Don’t be so quick to judge. It would be an honor for you to become my third wife.”
Even with her still pale and weak from her tragedy, he saw how pretty she was and how strong-willed. She had value as a hostage, though marrying her would be even more valuable. She would accelerate his plans, her blood ties giving him a claim on Aedui lands.
He sat down on the single stool in the corner and watched the woman across the room look back at him in anger. The girl had settled back down to play again on the far side of the room, oblivious to her mother’s plight. That woman is strong, but her little girl is all the leverage I’ll ever need.
He had come so far. As the third son of Adalbern, the greatest Suebi king his nation had ever seen, he had grown up underneath the oversized shadow of his father and older brothers. When the envoys from the Arverni and Sequani had come seeking help against the Aedui, Ariovist had jumped at the chance, seeing a way to prove himself. Everybody he had brought with him, now all part of his nation, were prospering beyond their wildest dreams.
“I still do not know your name, woman. I only know your father was a chieftain, brother to councilors and vergobrets,” he told her while coldly studying the child.
“My name is Aina, daughter of Drestan,” she said, sitting up straight. “I will warn you only once. If you hurt my daughter again, I will kill you.” He liked the way she tried to look menacing despite her dirty appearance and her filthy clothes.
Ariovist laughed. Just as I thought, as pliable as wax in my hands.
“I like your spirit, girl. I think it’s time I let my wives and their servants take care of you. They will get you washed up and dress you in clean clothes. It must have been weeks since you’ve seen some of your Celtic soap,” he touched her tunic on her shoulder with a single finger, “and I will make them burn this filthy thing.”
His sour mood was gone, replaced by elation. Marrying this girl held much appeal. He watched her unconsciously lift her hand to fidget with the ends of a torc that was no longer around her neck. “I can get you a new one, once our arrangements are official, made like whatever your old one was. I’m sure it was solid gold, right?” He laughed again at how uncomfortable she was with him. A good challenge, though it would have to wait a bit. He would enjoy breaking her until she understood that she belonged to him.
He looked back at the girl, moving little sticks around the floor. When she looked up at him, he smiled at her. “I will see you again soon,” he said to them both and stood up. He whistled loudly by the time he reached the door. He walked out, carefully locking the door behind him.
696 AUC (58 BC), early summer
Clusium, Etruria, Italia
Velia followed a customer out into the hallway to ask Velthurus for fresh water. As it happened, Titia followed her own customer out as well.
“Can we talk for a moment?” Velia asked her. Her friend nodded and followed into her room.
“I want to run away, I just can’t take it anymore,” she whispered. “Are you coming with me?”
Titia’s eyes grew wide. “I can’t tell you how much I want to, though I am afraid about what happens when they catch us. Look at poor Velthurus. If he were to ever run away again, it would cost him his life.” Her friend sighed and gave her a hug. “I am sorry, I won’t go with you. However, I will help you anyway I can.”
So, I will have to go alone and leave both Titia and Velthurus behind. She closed her eyes to keep from crying. “Please go, and send the boy in.”
Velthurus saw her damp eyes and raised an eyebrow in question. She just shook her head and pointed at the water bowl. He poured his water before putting down the bucket and putting his hand on her arm. Now she couldn’t hold back her tears any longer. Velthurus squeezed her tight. I can’t stay here but leaving the boy behind is killing me.
The next morning, she woke Titia early so they could be the first in line for their daily tea and breakfast. That way, they had a few spare minutes to talk before having to get ready for business hours. She took her friend’s elbow and nudged her towards the rear garden. One of the Lupanar’s guards already stood watch there, like always during day time hours. Velia turned away from the man. “Do you know if anybody has fled over the garden wall before?” she asked in a low tone.
“Yes, one young girl tried at night, just a few weeks before you got here. The domus on the other side is a store for fine import goods, and it’s guarded by a trained fighting dog. Every night after they leave for the day, the dog has access to the garden. It got her, and she didn’t survive.” Titia shivered. “I still remember her screams.”
“Alright, not over the garden wall.” She looked around, deep in thought. I’ll figure something else out. I have to.
They heard the call that breakfast time was over and walked back inside. Time to get ready to be on display in the atrium.
***
She went to bed at lights out and patiently waited for the guard in the atrium to fall asleep. Earlier in the day, the man had traded for extra wine rations—she wouldn’t have another chance like this again soon. He fell asleep, finally, as attested by his loud snoring. She snuck out of her room and to the back of the house, careful to stay quiet. She slowly unlatched the back door and opened it, worried about every little sound. She snuck out and found the moon provided decent lighting. After getting her bearings, she quietly heaved the small wooden table to the corner and added a chair on top for extra reach before she lifted herself up on the table, and slowly stepped onto the chair. Now she could easily reach the first row of clay tiles cemented to each other. She had enough grip to get one leg up, then she slowly pulled her torso until her other leg followed. Crouching, she carefully moved over to the adjacent building. No alarms. So far, so good, but I am not out of the woods yet.
She made it to the end of the city block while scanning the sidewalk below for the best way to get down, and noticed a couple of old crates in the twilight leaning against the wall just a few feet away. She slipped off the roof and came down hard enough on the crate that one of her feet slipped off. She swore silently at the pain of a sprained ankle as she hopped down the sidewalk. I can’t believe it. I made it, I am free.
First things first, she needed to see Lethie to let her know what had happened. If Numerius came back for her after all, he would know to check with her. And I need a change of clothes, these few things leave me half-naked and easily recognizable as a prostitute.
Fastie would waste no time having notices posted all over the city, now she was just another slave on the run from a Lupanar. Half an hour later, she knocked on Lethie’s door. No answer. She tried it again, louder this time. Still nothing. Lethie was not home. Now what?
She weighed leaving town during the night against waiting for her friend to come home, however long it might take. I don’t have a choice. I need new clothes to stand a chance, and I need to let Lethie know about what happened to me.
She sat down to lean against the door and soon fell asleep despite her worries and excitement. She woke up feeling a hand on her leg. “Velia? Is that really you?” She looked up, seeing her friend crouch close by. “Where have you been? Come on in.” Lethie used a heavy key to open the door to her room and walked inside to a short counter to light a lamp.
“Sit down, please. On the bed, or the chair, wherever is fine. I have some o
lives if you’re hungry?” She put a bowl full of green olives next to the lamp and turned back, taking in Velia’s cheap makeup and her skimpy clothes.
“Oh Velia. What happened to you?”
“It’s all the fault of that criminal Minatus. He didn’t legally sell me as a slave.” She sighed. “I’ll tell you everything, and you need to tell Numerius if he ever comes back.” Her friend leaned forward to listen, and after Velia finished, Lethie looked stunned and shocked to her core. “I hate to ask this of you, but would you have a few clothes you could spare? I ran away tonight, and I won’t get far in these,” Velia said while pointing at her revealing underwear.
Lethie hugged her. “Of course, let me see what I can give you.” She let go and walked to her clothes basket. “Here’s a tunic, though I am sorry to say it’s nearly worn out.”
“Thank you, you can’t imagine what a treasure this is.” She put it over her head and saw that Lethie was also holding a stola out for her. “I can’t take that, that shawl looks brand-new.”
“Please take it, I only wish I could give you more. The stola can cover your head and conceal a good bit of your face.” Lethie put the cloth loosely around Velia’s neck. “What are you going to do now? You need to leave town, right? What direction should I look for you?”
“I figured I’ll go north, all the way to Arretium. I’ll stay there for a while.”
“I will try to find you there, I just don’t know how long before I can leave my parents alone for a while. I was so worried when you vanished last year.”
“Thank you. I should go, the sooner the better,” Velia stated. Lethie packed her some food, they had a final hug and she ran down the stairs and through the front door of the building. She looked around and realized that it was already much closer to morning than she had hoped. Merda, I wanted to be long gone from Clusium by now.
She turned north to walk toward the city gate and noticed a young man sitting on the sidewalk in the twilight, not far from the apartment building’s entry door. The man followed her with his eyes, and she started to worry. Was he there already when I arrived?
