by C K Ruppelt
“Oh, I see. I will keep this a secret, I promise. I am leaving tomorrow anyway. I am curious though, with so many wishes in one place, what most people want from Feronia. Would you mind telling me?”
“Oh, that’s no secret.” He waved his arm, indicating the entire clearing. “With very few exceptions, Feronia gets asked to remove the brands or tattoos from former slaves’ foreheads. It’s usually F or FUG for runaways, or FUR for the ones accused of stealing.”
Blandius was shocked. Like most other citizens, he had seen these marks of disgrace on slaves in the streets, but he had grown up in a household too poor to own slaves, so he had never thought much about them. Until he met Velia and little Velthurus. I never realized how widespread these marks are, or how devastating they would be for a freedman or freedwoman.
He followed the temple servant in silence back through the forest until another thought struck him. “Do they ever?” he asked.
“I am sorry?”
“Do the wishers ever get their wishes granted?” he clarified.
“Yes, at least some of them do. The brands can only be covered or masked, but the ink tattoos can sometimes be removed, depending on what ink has been used,” the servant replied.
“Would you mind telling me how the removal is done?” Blandius asked.
“I’ve heard of two methods, and the effective one is very painful. You must reopen the skin with a needle and daub on a concoction of lime, gypsum, and salt. Sometimes it works well the first time, but it often takes two or three treatments.”
“And the other method? Does it work at all?”
“It does occasionally, and it’s quite simple, though you have to use it for a longer time. You need to collect pigeon feces and apply it as a poultice over the tattoo. You should refresh the poultice every two or three days, and it will take many weeks before the tattoo fades. If it works at all.” Blandius must have made an involuntary face since the temple worker snickered. “Yeah, I agree, disgusting, right? But surely not so bad if it takes the letters off your forehead, no?”
“You are right about that, my friend. I thank you and your goddess for sharing these remedies with me. I am traveling with a little boy that might be excited to try them.”
696 AUC (58 BC), late summer
South of Andematunnum, Free Gallia, Southern lands of the Lingones Nation
Brenna was still not used to living in the legion’s leather tents. Since the Aedui were now officially employed members of the auxilia, they had received their own gear from the camp prefect’s warehouses. The one thing she did appreciate was the clever little earthen bread oven that had accompanied each package of hides and wooden staves.
She found Orlagh sitting around the fire pit in front of the tent that she shared with Rionach, the two children and two other couples, with one of the ovens sitting by her side. The woman was grinding flour on a stone hand mill. “Hello, Orlagh. How is Rionach?” she asked while sitting down beside her.
“She is doing well, better than hoped for.” Orlagh added some water, a little salt, and some sourdough from a small clay pot to form the resulting dough into a loaf before placing it on the bottom plate of the earthen oven. “She is still asleep. If you can wait a few minutes, I’ll wake her anyway when the bread is ready.”
“Certainly, I am happy to wait. Where are the kids?” she asked.
“Gone to the latrines. They will be back soon,” Orlagh said while cutting crisscrossing lines into the loaf. She dropped the plate on the hot coals and covered it with the lid. Now empty handed, she grabbed an old towel and carefully cleaned her hands on it before looking up. “And here they come,” she added, nodding toward her.
Brenna turned around and saw Epona and Caom running through the tent aisles. “Hello, you two! How are you doing?” she called out to them.
“Good,” the boy said, while Epona just shrugged her shoulders. They both plopped down in the dirt next to Orlagh. “Thank you for making bread,” Caom added and gave her a hug.
Brenna smiled. I am so glad to see the children accept her.
Ten minutes later she used an iron hook to lift the hot lid for Orlagh, who grabbed the fresh loaf with a linen bread bag and followed her and the kids into the tent. The delicious smell of the bread helped mask the persistent odors of old sweat. The early cold rains don’t help, everybody keeps their tents closed.
“Good morning,” Orlagh greeted Rionach before giving her a quick kiss and sitting down on the cot next to her. The children both moved in with hugs and kisses as well.
“Ouch,” Rionach said with a smile on her lips.
Brenna, who had followed them inside, moved up to give her friend a hug as well, careful to keep it gentle. “I am so glad to see you are better.” She sat down next to Caom and Epona.
“Yes, I am much better,” Rionach sleepily replied. “I can’t wait to move around.”
“Here, start with some bread, and I’ll help you up,” Orlagh said tenderly.
Observing the scene made Brenna’s heart burst from joy. Not just because of Rionach’s recovery, but from the abundant love so obvious in the people around her.
***
“Want to go to Andematunnum later?” his friend Vibius asked. Numerius stood next to him in full battle gear, waiting on the field outside the immense combined multi-legion camp’s Porta Decumana as part of a long parade line of the Ninths’ Second cohort, silently enduring steadily falling cool drizzle.
“Depends. I’ll go with you if we survive this inspection.” Numerius replied. From the corner of his eyes, he could see the centurions strolling up and down the lines, frequently stopping, sometimes barking in anger.
They came his way, stopping at a man a few feet away and inspecting everything. Their century’s new leader Gaius Seppius, formerly longest serving optio of the Ninth, shook his head. “The shield is in good shape, the gladius as well, but look at his canteen and his armor.” He addressed the legionary directly. “When was the last time you treated your chainmail? Your iron rings are brown from rust! The camp prefect’s men hand out new patches of wool every month. All you have to do is use them!” Seppius marked the man on his list. “Latrine cleaning duty for two weeks.” The man groaned in response, causing Seppius to add “alright, three weeks it is, thank you kindly for volunteering.”
The group of noncommissioned officers moved on and stopped at Vibius, who by now was sweating profusely. “Ah, I remember talking to this young man about his shield a few days ago. He badly needs a new one,” Seppius commented, marking Vibius on his list, his shield nearly hacked in two during the last battle and held together by rope. Though they tried, the centurions and optios could find no other issues with Vibius’ gear.
As the group moved on to Numerius, Optio Titus Pullo joined, having walked over from the camp. “It’s official, we are out of replacement shields. Even the Helvetii shields we had repainted were all handed out,” he told the other officers.
Seppius turned back to Vibius. “Sorry, son, that means you will have to wait a while longer.”
“Can we ask the fabri to make new ones?” Centurion Opiter Maximus asked.
“Let’s go see our cohort prefect after we’re done here. He can tell us if there are deliveries on the way,” Titus Balventius suggested before turning to Titus Pullo. “And I hear congratulations are in order,” he addressed the man who looked surprised.
“You mean you have heard something? The prefects haven’t told me anything yet,” Pullo replied.
“Sorry, I just heard before coming out here, I had assumed you already knew,” Balventius continued. Numerius, looking straight ahead, saw the puzzled looks on the noncom officers’ faces. Balventius continued. “Let me introduce you to the newest centurion of the Eleventh legion. As you all know they took quite a beating at Bibracte and have several positions open. Though our friend Pullo here did not just get any centurion position, he was chosen as a centurion of their First Cohort.”
The other officers broke out int
o hoots and congratulations. The troops of the First cohort were considered the elite, elevating their centurions with them. After the handshakes were done, the officers turned to Numerius. He squirmed under the scrutiny. Don’t let them see that my sword doesn’t fully fit its sheath anymore. It still cuts, that’s all I need it for.
After seeing that his gear was in decent shape, most of the men moved on, except for centurion Balventius. Damn.
“Let me see your gladius!” the man suddenly bellowed. Oh no, latrine duty, here I come.
“Here, sir,” Numerius said, handing the weapon over hilt-first. Balventius whistled when he saw the deep cut into its edge close to the hilt, deforming the blade enough for the wooden sheath opening to stop it.
“I tried to grind it out a bit but was worried any more would weaken the blade worse, so I stopped.” Numerius offered, now very nervous.
Surprisingly, Balventius grinned at him. “Son, I applaud you for trying to fix it, but you couldn’t possibly. That piece of steel was merda to begin with.” The man stuck the blade into the ground as far as he could, hammering the pommel with his fist for good measure. He turned to the other officers. “Want to bet?”
“I’ll put up only twenty sesterces this time. That one does look questionable,” Opiter answered.
Seppius shook his head. “Titus, I hold with you on that one. No bet from me.” Nobody else commented.
Balventius shrugged and moved sideways into position before kicking the pommel of the sword as hard as he could with the sole of his right caliga, easily snapping the blade in two. He turned back to Numerius. “At least I know we have plenty new swords in store, with much better steel than this,” he said. “Go see Seppius later for the requisition paper.” He turned back to the officers and grinned. “And thanks for the easy money, Opiter!”
Most of his colleagues laughed and the group moved to the next man in line.
Numerius took a deep breath in relief. No punishment duties for either of us.
“You are on for tonight,” he whispered to his friend, who beamed in reaction. They finally had leave again and would see what the capital of the Lingones nation had to offer.
***
“At last, a bright and sunny day. This dull drizzle was getting to me,” Andrippos professed to Alketas, both walking in front of Nico, who shook his head in silent disapproval. I liked the rain, and I am glad there’s a mild breeze or we’d be right back to stifling heat.
Nico followed his friends out of the big camp towards a nearby hill that had become a popular hangout for the camp’s families in the two weeks since they had caught up with the Helvetii. As the view opened to include the hillside and the trees at its bottom, he saw many of the smaller children run around playing catch, while some of the taller ones climbed trees at the edge of the forest. “It’s easy to forget how many children there are,” he commented.
His little group made it halfway across the hilltop before he identified Capussia, Andrippos close friend, sitting among many other Numidians and their families. As they approached he also recognized Adhe and his Numidian decurion, who both stood up. “Welcome, it’s good to see you again,” Adhe said in perfect Latin before shaking his hand. “This is my uncle Oz. Please sit with us.”
As Nico plopped down on one of the laid-out blankets, he recognized another man sitting close by and waved. “Salve, I’m Nico,” he called over.
“I’m Massi,” the Numidian replied with a smile. “Good to know your name. This is Daleninar, my brother’s widow.” He pointed at an attractive woman sitting next to him, tall with brown hair, green eyes, and a prominent nose, holding a newborn in her lap while feeding olives to a three-year-old boy. Nico smiled and nodded, receiving a beautiful smile from her in return. When he looked back at Massi, he noticed the look the man gave his sister-in-law. Seems there’s a lot more here than meets the eye, I hope for his sake that she likes him as much as he does her.
He heard someone shout “Papa,” and turned around. A young girl ran up to Oz and gave him a quick hug. “Is it all right if I invite some people over? They have a boy that’s Saki’s age,” she said. “And Saki loves to play with him.” Interesting, the girl doesn’t look like him at all, and no mother around that I can see.
“Sure, Stena. There is lots of space,” Oz said, watching the girl run over to a group of Aedui just arriving from camp. Nico was surprised at the love and tenderness he detected in the man’s look. I can’t help but like these men and their friends. They seem like good people.
***
Brenna walked with Elsed and Morcant along the tents of the legion followers and servants, a growing group of orphans and adults in tow, all joining them for their outing. “Children, we’re going to the hill outside the camp that many of the legionary children go to mingle and play. Come and join us!” she told a group of five young ones playing between the tents. It would be good for Aedui children and adults alike to socialize with other camp people, Romans or otherwise. For better or for worse, they were now tied to this army, at least until Ariovist was dealt with. Why not make the best of it?
They came to the women’s tent that housed Rionach and Orlagh. To her surprise, the two stood outside, hand in hand, watching Epona and Caom put out the tent fire.
Orlagh looked up. “We heard about you taking the children to the hill. We would like to join you,” she said eagerly. “Rionach insists she’s up for it.”
“Fine with me. The more the merrier,” Brenna replied with a warm smile before turning to Rionach. “I am just glad you’re up and walking again.”
“Me too. Let’s go. We’ll help you hoard the children,” her friend said. “Or at least Orlagh will.”
Brenna laughed after seeing the look on her friend’s partner’s face. “Thank you, I appreciate all the help we can get,” she added, smiling at the thirty to forty dirty children of all ages behind them.
***
Nico saw the big group of Aedui come closer, led by little Stena. He was surprised how many of the faces he recognized, including the two warrior women walking with a boy and girl between them, and the young man following them dressed in white. That clothing would make him stick out anywhere.
The group included a huge number of children, all settling in an open spot about twenty feet away. Most of the children soon ran off, eager to join the play on the side of the hill.
Nico overheard Alketas comment about the two women warriors to Andrippos. “The shorter, dark-haired one with the bandages is quite attractive, right?”
“I like the taller blond one, she seems… exotic,” the tall and lanky Andrippos replied, showing his lopsided smile. “I wonder if we should go over to introduce ourselves?”
Nico broke out into laughter. “Good luck, you’ll need it!” he managed to tell them. “You both need to work on your skills of observation. Except for maybe those two children, these women only have eyes for each other. Sorry, I don’t think you’d stand a chance with either.”
Andrippos smiled at Nico, presenting his lopsided grin, and shrugged. “I’ve seen how ferocious the Aedui fought in the final battle against the Helvetii. They have all earned their equal place here and the right to do whatever they want in their free time.”
“That’s why I love you, my friend. You are both tolerant and non-judgmental, traits not found very often,” Nico replied.
***
“Here they are!” Oz heard before looking over to where Stena walked up with a familiar looking Aedui couple in tow. The woman led a young boy by the hand, and the man held a baby. “This is my Papa,” Stena proudly told the woman, pointing at Oz.
“Ave,” the woman replied, nodding to the group of Numidians. Oz stood up and the woman held out her hand. “I’m Brenna, and this is my husband Elsed,” she introduced them before pulling the small boy forward from behind her legs. “And this here is Coraidan. He loves to play with your son.”
Oz felt a warmth blossoming inside and smiled at the couple. “Please, why don’t you sit
down with us, so we can chat. Oh, and we’ve brought more than enough food to share,” he said, ushering them to his blanket.
“This is my nephew,” he introduced before asking him “would you please bring Saki over?” A moment later, Saki, full of excitement, ran to greet his little friend. A deep feeling of joy spread over Oz, bringing tears to his eyes. At long last, the legion had become much more to him than simply a group of paid soldiers. Instead, the legion has become a home, our community.
No, he thought as he handed a plate of bread slices and olives over to Elsed and Brenna. He looked at the two boys playing together. Community is not a strong enough word. It is more than that.
He observed his Numidian friends around him, and the Cretans. All good people.
Glancing toward the camp, he saw Balventius and Seppius approach, likely to visit their friends Capussia and Andrippos. He moved his head to look out at the hillside. All the playing children, Stena among them, shouted in excitement. This is so much more.
Oz relaxed. Unexpectedly, on this small hill, the world was a wonderful place. Why did it take me this long to realize?
This is family.
POST SCRIPTUM
Inabsoluto Negotio (Unfinished Business)
“The brave and bold persist even against fortune; the timid and cowardly rush to despair through fear alone”
Cornelius Tacitus
696 AUC (58 BC), early fall
Outside of Oaxos, Crete, Roman Province of Crete et Cyrene
“Husband, there is a man at the house, asking for your brother Nico,” Eupraxia said. Penthylos added a closely measured amount of vinegar into the huge pot of boiling sheep’s milk and stirred. Then he handed the ladle to one of his many nephews. “Keep stirring until you see solids, then pour it through the cloth as I showed you yesterday.”
