“My pleasure, sir,” Massus replied.
Otto turned Djinn so that he was standing beside the centurion looking over at his troopers.
“Men, this is Centurion Massus. He was awarded a silver spear for his actions in saving an entire Roman army in Africa. You may never see another soldier so highly decorated in the rest of your careers. Salute Centurion Massus!”
As one, they raised their lances and shouted their acclamation. Massus squared his shoulders and stood a little taller. He bowed in acceptance.
“Decurion,” Otto shouted, “lead the men back to camp. Those six I have already spoken to fall out.”
Within a few minutes they had all clattered away leaving Otto, his escort and Evocati Felix on his mule cart.
“Thank you for the public commendation, sir,” Massus told him. “It wasn’t necessary.”
“Yes it was centurion. People should not be allowed to forget.”
As it fell out, few of the citizens knew that their garrison commander was a celebrated soldier who was still spoken of with pride in the army. When the news spread around town, he did not have to buy himself a flask of wine in any tavern for a month.
When the men, horses and mules had been settled, Otto sat down with Felix and Massus in the guardroom office.
“I need to visit Boxer’s family,” Otto said, “but I don’t have any gifts for the ladies.”
“Course you do,” Felix told him. “You’ve got half a ton of silver rings on each arm. Get a jeweller to polish a couple of them up. They’ll just love that; genuine barbaric spoils of battle, just the job, sir.”
Otto selected three and one of Massus’ men carried them over to the nearest jeweller who promised to have them ready by mid-afternoon. An urchin was sent to Vitius Longius with a message asking if Otto might visit the next day. He came back in a short while with a scrap of vellum on which was written an invitation to spend the day and dine with the family.
That evening, Massus, Otto and Felix sat around the barrack-room table with Otto’s troopers and ten of the off-duty legionaries eating and drinking. It had been uncomfortable at first; the cavalrymen were not inclined to say much in the presence of their prefect and the garrison soldiers did not know what to make of this glittering, senior officer.
“Remember that night when you carried Lucius Longus in, half-dead and covered in blood?” Massus asked.
“Was that you, sir?” one of the legionaries said.
“No, it was that big German who was a pal of the tribune’s,” one of his comrades answered.
“That was me alright,” Otto told him. “Some night!”
“I should say,” Massus added. “Killed three very naughty boys did Prefect Otto Longius; two with a pugio and one he just bashed to bits.”
“Did you really, sir?” one of the troopers put in, not sure whether to believe it.
“Oh yes, he really did for three armed robbers and him just a lad. Bloody enormous lad mind!”
The banter flowed after that. Old stories were retold. Felix recounted how he was awarded his medal.
“They were coming in over this pile of logs so I got the lads to pour some olive oil over them. You should have seen it boys! They was slipping and sliding all over the place. Could hardly spear ’em for laughing.”
“What happened with the leg?” Massus asked him.
“German axe. What happened with the eye?”
“African arrow. Here’s to the horrible bastards who tried their best to put us down!”
They clinked wine cups. It was as pleasant a night of light-hearted comradeship as Otto had enjoyed for a long while.
Chapter 14
“This is ridiculous. I’m not doing it,” Otto protested.
“You’ve got to, sir. They’ll expect it,” Felix insisted.
“Oh, you’re an expert on high-born ladies now are you?”
“Lads, who thinks they would want to see the prefect in his poshest armour?”
“We all do,” the assembled legionaries and cavalrymen shouted as they sat around the garrison mess-hall finishing their breakfasts.
“I cannot stay all day long in the home of Boxer’s family wearing full armour. Out of the question,” Otto said decisively.
“Ah, I’m ahead of you there, sir. I go with you on the mule-cart with a change of clothes. They have a good old squint at you for half and hour then you can take it off and I’ll fetch it back to the billet,” Felix told him with a smug grin.
“Centurion Massus, tell them all that this is stupid,” Otto pleaded.
Massus shook his head. “Felix and the boys are right. Nothing the ladies love more than to see a soldier in his glory, all polished up and manly.”
“I’ll give in if one of you will run along to the butcher’s and get me an ox’s knee-joint; a fresh bloody one with a foot of bone either side.”
“Who’s that for?”
“My hostess, of course,” Otto said, deadpan.
Otto knocked sharply on the stout gate which led into the garden of the Longius’ family home. A hatch opened and the face of Janus the guardian peered up.
“Greetings, Janus, I have come to visit…..”
“Oh Master Otto, is that you sir? Come in, oh do come in,” he said beaming.
Otto stepped through. “Can you direct this soldier to the stable gate, please?” he asked indicating Felix on the seat of the cart.
“Of course, of course. The family are waiting for you, sir.”
Pinerus the major-domo bustled down the path and bowed before greeting him. “If you would follow me, sir” he said and gestured towards the front entrance of the neat villa.
Four figures stood with happy smiles on their faces watching him but as he came nearer, the smiles gave way to looks of surprise. Otto had grown two inches in height and put on nearly twenty pounds of hard muscle since they had last seen him. He strode towards them now, seven and a half feet tall from the top of his helmet crest to the soles of his boots. The width of his shoulders was emphasized by the harness he wore under his cuirass. His red military cloak swirled about him as he walked with one hand rested on the hilt of his cavalry sword in its decorated scabbard. He reached the top of the steps up to the house and smiled broadly.
“Greetings noble sir, ladies. How happy I am to see you again.”
They all looked up at him in silence with something like awe.
The smile left his face. “Is anything wrong?” he asked.
Aelia, his friend’s grandmother, answered for them.
“Nothing is wrong, Otto. It is just that, well, you are so huge in all your wonderful armour, you look like a statue of Mars in a temple that has come to life.”
Otto blushed. “Everyone said it would be a good idea to wear my parade armour. I told them it was stupid. Here, is this better?” he asked removing his helmet.
“Oh, you’ve cut off all your lovely golden hair,” Poppaea, the daughter of the house said and blushed in turn.
“You are as welcome as ever,” her mother Sabina put in to cover Poppaea’s embarrassment, ever the gracious hostess.
“We thought we might sit in the garden. It’s a lovely day and all the blossom has come out to scent the air,” his host, Vitius, suggested.
They sat around a marble table in the dappled shade of the flowering creeper growing up and over the wooden loggia. As soon as they were seated, Pinerus appeared carrying a tray loaded with jugs of fruit juice, wine, water and precious glass goblets. He set his tray down and clapped. Two women came around the side of the house, each carrying a tray of snacks; bread, biscuits, honey-cakes, cheeses, cold meats and the inevitable bowl of garum. Otto recognised one of them as the family’s cook and Passer’s mother.
“May I speak with your cook, lady?” he asked Sabina who nodded puzzled assent.
He rose and stood in front of her. Her head barely came up to the embossed image of Minerva in the centre of his breastplate.
“Woman,” he said in a soft, kindly voice, “
late last year I saw your son, Passer at army headquarters in Upper Germany. He has grown tall and is in good health. He has a natural talent for working with horses and is learning his trade well. Everyone has a high opinion of him”.
Tears filled her eyes. She took one of his hands and kissed it.
“The Gods’ blessings on you sir,” she sobbed then caught her mistress’ disapproving glance and scurried away.
“That was kind of you, Otto,” Aelia said, looking askance at her daughter in law. “Did you see our Lucius when you were last there?” she asked with a mischievous light in her eyes.
“No, madam. He was away on a bridge-building mission.”
“And why were you summoned by your general?”
“Oh, army administration,” he mumbled, avoiding her gaze.
“Liar, Otto, wicked liar! We know you went to receive your golden crown of honour! Lucius wrote and told us how disappointed he was not to be there.”
“How is he?” Otto asked eagerly.
“He is well and happy…”
“And writes a lot of boring stuff about foundations and spans and engineering,” Poppaea interrupted her grandmother.
“Indeed he does, but never mind “Boxer” as we know you all call him. Tell us about the golden crown…”
“And why aren’t you wearing it?” Poppaea added.
With a lot of coaxing, they extracted the story and sat back thrilled once they had heard it. He went on to speak about Lucius and all he had accomplished during the siege. His mother and sister listened bright-eyed and his father was clearly proud to learn how vital their son’s expertise had been to his comrades during that dangerous time.
“One of my men is in your stable yard. I need to speak with him if you will excuse me,” Otto told them.
The mules were contentedly munching out of their nosebags but there was no sign of Felix. Otto found him in the kitchen in front of an empty plate with crumbs of bread and cheese and some scraps of meat on it, He was regaling the wide-eyed female servants with terrible, bloody tales of the German borderlands. Even Pinerus looked impressed.
“Want to give me a hand with this armour?” Otto asked.
“Of course, sir,” Felix replied and walked over to the stable block with him.
“You were laying it on a bit thick weren’t you?”
Felix chuckled. “Just telling the civilians what they want to hear sir; plenty of blood and guts with the brave Roman lads coming out on top every time.”
He helped Otto out of his armour and boots and into a striped, Equestrian tunic. Soft boots and his belt with its scabbarded pugio finished his “casual” look.
“Give me those presents, please and come back for me at the ninth hour. Better bring four of the men along with you; even round here it can be hairy after dark.”
Otto came back and shouted in his parade ground voice for Janus to release Ursus the guard dog. His voice echoed off the garden walls and Sabina winced slightly at the assault on her delicate ears. The huge Molossian hound bounded out of his pen barking but stopped short when he recognized Otto. He lowered his head on his extended front paws and wagged his enormous tail; he was showing the first hint of grey around the muzzle but was still a powerful animal. Otto produced the ox bone from behind his back, red with strips of meat and rich with marrow. Ursus eyed it. Twin strings of silvery slaver flowed down each side of his jowls. He came forward slowly, one step at a time. Otto thrust at him with the bone. Ursus leaped and clamped onto one end. They played a furious game of tug of war. The dog growled and ground his teeth further up his side of the bone, Otto laughed and pulled back on his side. At last Ursus’ fangs gripped into the cartilage and tore it out of Otto’s grasp. He tossed it into the air, reared up on his back legs and caught it nimbly. Still wagging his tail, he trotted in triumph back into his pen to gnaw at his prize.
The family applauded. Pinerus re-appeared with a bowl of water and a towel for Otto’s greasy hands.
“He remembered you,” Vitius said.
“I brought that bone in case he didn’t!” Otto laughed.
He produced three doeskin bags out of his tunic. “The warriors of the northern lands have a tradition of wearing silver arm-rings. If one is defeated, the victor takes them….”
“You had them right up each arm before,” Poppaea interrupted but Otto carried on without directly responding.
“… I have a gift for each of you ladies from Upper Germany.” He passed the first bag across to Poppaea. “This was taken off a great warrior of the Chatti who tried to ambush me.” She opened it and her eyes widened at the sight of the thick silver ring inside. She slipped it over her wrist but her arm was so slender it fell back. “This was worn by Audo of the Bright Axe, a chieftain of the Marcomanni,” he said giving his gift to Sabina. “Finally, my lady Aelia, this one belonged to King Helmund, again of the Marcomanni, who led his army against us when your grandson did such great works to save the camp and the legion.”
“Each one of these comes from a man you have killed in battle?” Aelia asked.
“They were all thoroughly cleaned and polished by a jeweller, there’s no blood or anything…” Otto began but Aelia silenced him by cupping his face in both her hands and laughing.
“Famous hero, cavalry officer, fierce warrior, under it all you remain our dear, dear Otto, earnest and without guile. Thank you very much,” she said and kissed his cheek. It was Sabina’s turn to look askance at Aelia.
The afternoon was taken up with business. Vitius had asked his estate steward and his son, who acted as Otto’s local man of business, to attend with the accounts. The son was nervous. He had never met Otto before and did not know what to expect. In the event, he was pleasantly surprised. His employer listened carefully, asked relevant questions and showed a quick grasp of matters relevant to his land and tenants.
“After taxes and my salary as agreed of twelve-hundred denarii per annum, you have so far made a profit of sixteen thousand denarii. By the end of this year, that sum should rise to twenty-two thousand, if all goes well,” the young man said and sat back looking nervously at his patron.
“Where is this money?” Otto asked.
“In your bank, sir. All of it...”
“You have started well. To reward your honest efforts, I want you to take a bonus payment of three hundred denarii for yourself.”
“Oh, thank you master…”
“Do not call me “master”; Otto or Otto Longius will do.”
He wrote an order on his bankers which Vitius witnessed.
After they had gone, the ladies returned.
“You made that young man a generous gift Otto,” Vitius told him. “He is about to be married so it has come at a particularly useful time for him.”
“Who is getting married?” Sabina asked.
“The steward’s son.”
“Oh him,” she remarked, with no further interest.
“Otto will have to find a wife shortly,” Poppaea giggled.
“I have no thoughts of that,” he responded with a smile.
“It is not entirely your choice to marry or not. Emperor Augustus is very keen on promoting public morals. The Julian Laws put all sorts of restrictions on who can marry whom but underlying them is a requirement to find a partner and be fruitful,” Vitius told him.
“Yes, and he is even keener that the Senatorial and Equestrian classes find spouses and produce children, preferably sons,” Sabina added.
“May be I should marry Poppaea,” Otto laughed.
“No, you can’t,” Sabina said in a rush, then realising her mistake smiled sweetly. “She is already betrothed… or practically betrothed.”
But the speed with which she had forbidden him to think of marrying her daughter was not lost on Otto. He was usually modest but Sabina had wounded him. His remark had been meant as a joke. Her reaction showed her fear that it was to be taken seriously.
“That is a shame my lady. I am a Roman Knight and Prefect who can offer
a bride my estate, a fortune of over one hundred thousand denarii, a gold cup, the gift of General Drusus, and a Military Gold Crown. I hope the lady Poppaea’s chosen one could provide as much, when she is more than “practically” betrothed.”
Sabina’s eye’s went wide and she reddened to the roots of her hair. The mood had changed. Conversation became desultory and forced. After an uncomfortable half hour, Otto said that he had remembered things he must do and took his leave. He walked down the hill to the barracks feeling humiliated and sad in equal measure. One look at his face told Massus and Felix to ask no questions.
“It isn’t my fault,” Sabina told her disapproving family. “It just slipped out. I mean, marrying Poppaea! How ridiculous and anyway he can’t possibly have that sort of money.”
“He has over thirty thousand in the bank to my certain knowledge, plus his accumulated army pay, I doubt if he spends much, together with an officer’s share of his legion’s campaign loot. I think one hundred thousand might be an understatement, my dear” Vitius told her drily.
“It’s not merely about money, Vitius,” she shot back.
“What is it about then, dear?” Aelia asked in an infuriatingly reasonable tone.
“Oh, you know perfectly well!” Sabina retorted as she slammed out of the room.
“That was unfortunate,” Aelia said, summing up the mood.
“No denying that. I shall go to the barracks tomorrow and make my peace with Otto on behalf of the family,” Vitius told his mother.
“That would be the right thing to do. Mind you, Sabina is quite right, you know. A union between Poppaea and Otto would be a disaster.”
“It was never being seriously considered,” Vitius snapped.
“Indeed not; just so long as you realise your wife was not wrong in what she said, only how she said it.”
Otto and his men had left by the time that Vitius arrived. He sat on a bench beside Massus and sighed.
“I take it the visit was not a success,” Massus remarked.
“No,” Vitius replied with a shake of his head. “It was going splendidly then the subject of marriage came up. Otto made a joke and my wife …”
“…Took exception to it. Of course she did. Marriage is too serious for women to make jokes about. They marry and their husbands turn out to be drunken brutes or they die having children or bring six into this world and attend the funerals of all of ‘em. No, nothing funny about it for women.”
Knight of Rome Part II Page 21
