by Griff Hosker
“You would have to build a fort at either end and it would prevent ships sailing to Coriosopitum.”
“When I was in Surrentum the Emperor said he was looking for a border which could be defended. Perhaps the Tinea is that border.”
“Well I have seen nothing further north that is in any way worth dying for.”
“Did you see any reason, closer to the Votadini capital, which might be worth defending? That surely must be important to them if they placed their capital there.”
Metellus thought about it and Livius smiled. His decurion always gave weighty thought to any question and his answers were usually illuminating. Rufius, always impatient, tapped his fingers on the ship’s side. “If you looked at the people we met and spoke to, they were poor. Even the nobles lacked clothes of quality. We thought that we would look like ordinary folk in our Explorate gear but we fitted in with the best families in our ragged, worn travelling clothes. They do not use fine beakers and platters, even at the King’s table and Septimus produces far better food.”
“What exactly are you saying?”
“Rufius do not be impatient and listen to Metellus. He has answered me. If the richest in the land are poorer than we, then what could we gain from taking over such a desolate country? Why just down the coast from here there are more valuable materials to be had with the holy black stones that Hercules is taking back to Rome. Now those mines are worth hanging on to. The lime mines at Morbium and the stone quarries, they are worth hanging on to. Further north? I think I agree with Metellus. It isn’t worth dying for.”
Rufius did not look convinced. Metellus said slowly, “Rufius, they use turf to burn on their fires! Not wood but turf.”
Furax sat watching the river slide by; he had left Morag and Macro as they did not seem to be in a talkative mood. Hercules might moan but he would always listen to and answer Furax’s interminable questions. “I like ‘The Swan’.”
“Well that is very good of you I am sure. “
“Can I sail with you again?”
“When you are older and learn not race along my deck.”
“You mean I can? I will ask the senator when we return because he owns me.”
Hercules looked at the boy. “He does not own you and he would be offended that you thought so.”
“But I thought that…”
“Well you thought wrong. Do you think you are treated like a slave?”
“Well no but I though that was because the Senator was a kind master.”
“He is but he is your guardian. He is looking after you, keeping you safe until you can look after yourself.”
“Will I need a trade then.”
“Well yes, every man needs a trade or else he is worthless, a slave.”
The young boy who had lived on the streets of the Lupanar and grown up too quickly, looked off at the bluffs on either side and eventually said, “The whore masters are rich. I shall be a whore master.”
“You don’t set your sights very high do you? There are better trades than that. More honest trades than letting girls and boys be used like that.”
His young face wrinkled at the memories. “You are right. They were sad and that is not fair.” He considered again and then, looking slyly at Hercules said, “I have it. I shall be a sailor.”
Snorting but with a smile on his face Hercules said, “I will be glad when I deliver you back to your guardian.”
Morag was feeling sad and unhappy. Macro didn’t seem interested in her any more. She knew that Morwenna had done something to him but she could make his life so much better. She wondered if the witch had put a spell on him, preventing him from returning her affection; she would have to ask someone but then it dawned on her, she had taken herself away from her family and she had no-one now. She had been a fool. Suddenly her family didn’t seem as bad as when she had run away. She began to cry, the tears flooding down her face.
Rufius went to comfort her but Metellus restrained him. “No, old friend, let us see if tears from another can heal Macro.” Rufius looked at Metellus as though he was speaking a foreign language. But then most times Metellus confused him.
“Don’t cry Morag. It will be all right,” Macro put his good arm around her shoulder.
She looked at him, her young eyes suddenly old. “Why? You do not love me. You used me to get out of the camp and now I have left my family and I am alone and I hate myself.”
Macro looked over to Metellus, his eyes pleading for help but Metellus shrugged and pointed his hand at Macro.” Look, Morag, my mother and my father, well not Morwenna obviously, but the parents who raised me are the best and most kind people in the world. They will give you a home and look after you and my father would help you to get back home in the spring.”
She sniffed back her tears. “Where do they live? “
“Half a day south of here. They have a lovely farm with horses and it is beautiful.”
“I like horses. My father promised me one when I married.”
“I will give you one as soon as we reach the farm.”
She threw her arms around him and hugged him. Rufius looked at Metellus and shook his head. “Sometimes I think that you are a witch or at the very least descended from one. How do you do it?”
Metellus said, seriously, “Don’t even say that in jest Rufius. I have had enough of witches to last a lifetime. And as for my skill? I watch people and I listen. You ought to try it some time.”
The bridge at Coriosopitum hove into view. “The tide is turning Livius and I will need all the daylight I can get to return to the sea. This will be a quick turnaround.”
Clasping his arm Livius said, “Thank you old friend and thank the senator. You have those letters for him?”
“Aye, including the one you wrote this morning.”
As soon as the gangplank was down Macro and Morag left first, shouting their goodbyes, Morag was excited once more. The troopers left next exchanging banter with the sailors. Finally the three decurions took their leave. “Next time you come to see us Furax, we will show you the country properly.”
Very seriously he shouted, holding tightly on to Hercules, “Next time I come I shall be a sailor.” Although he lifted his eyes to the skies, Livius could tell that Hercules would indeed make the street urchin into a sailor. Hercules was as good as his word and, using oars as fenders they turned the ship around and unfurled fully the foresail to disappear around the bend in the river. ‘The Swan’ was gone in a flash.
As they walked through the gate Livius noticed that Cassius was waiting for him. “Good to see that you are all safe and I can see from the girl that there is a story.”
“Ah yes Morag. Get Julius to look after her. I think she might be intimidated by the rest of us and get the Greek doctor from the Batavian fort to have a look at Macro. The capsarius did a good job but he fell foul of Morwenna.”
Cassius showed the shock on his face, “His mother?” Livius nodded. “He knows?”
“He knows.”
“Sentry, go to the Batavian fort and ask for the Greek doctor. Metellus, good to see you, can you take the girl to Julius Longinus?”
“Will do. Come along Morag. You will see Macro later.”
“I still can’t get used to his new name.”
“That is his real name.”
Cassius shook his head in disbelief at the strange conversation. “Come to the Principia sir we can talk quietly there.” He looked over his shoulder. “I assume Hercules has the letters.”
“He does.”
Once in the Principia Cassius just came out with it. “We have spy in the camp. Aelius Spartianus.”
Livius leaned back in his seat. “Are you sure? I know neither of us likes him but a spy?”
“You are too honest for your own good sir although I suppose being accused of treason when you were innocent would colour your judgement. No we have evidence.” Cassius explained about the trap which had been set and the evidence they had gathered.
“Any
corroboration?”
“Two of his turma admitted that he met with people on the island but they didn’t know why.”
“Hm less guilty than the decurion but they are also guilty none the less. Now this is difficult territory for me. I have never had to deal with such a serious case before.”
“And me which is why I asked Julius for the options. If this is dereliction of duty putting his colleagues at risk he would be beaten to death by the ala. If this is treason then he would be put into a bag of snakes and thrown into the river.”
“That’s it?”
“According to Julius yes and he is normally right.”
“I take it we have no snakes?”
“No snakes sir,” although a serious matter Cassius could not help but smile.
“I am not sure I want the bastinado for him. But I don’t want a crucifixion either and strangulation is normally reserved for leaders and generals so I guess it will have to be the bastinado. First things first let’s get the sentencing out of the way.” He went out to the sentry. “Officer’s call,” The buccina sounded. “I won’t order a man to beat someone to death we will ask for volunteers.”
“And if there are too many.” Livius looked horrified. “He is not a popular man.”
“Then we draw names.”
The officers all came in to the small office wondering what it portended. Those who had not been in ‘The Swan’ had a slight idea but the others were in the dark.
“This is a formal meeting and I will try to be brief. We are going to pass sentence upon a traitor, Aelius Spartianus. Adjutant could you fetch him?” The decurions looked uncomfortable. Most were new and none, including Metellus and Cassius had never had to sentence a fellow officer, even one as nasty as Spartianus.
When he was brought in, hands bound behind his back, he had a wild and savage look in his eyes. “You have no…”
Cassius roared, “Silence! You will be told when you can speak. This is a courtesy which you do not deserve but your commanding officer is a compassionate and caring man.” Aelius snorted but wisely kept his counsel. “You are charged with treason. You did conspire with deserters and the enemies of Rome to bring death to your fellow troopers and to endanger the state. Have you anything to say?”
Arrogance returned to Spartianus. “You have no proof.”
Cassius smiled a mirthless thin lipped smile. “We have the testimony of your turma that you deviated from your patrol route several times to leave and pick up items from the island upstream. We have testimony from two of your confederates, who will be punished later, that you met with two deserters, Wolf and Quintus and passed on information. We have evidence from a fellow decurion that you attempted to leave a message for your paymaster in order to ambush the Decurion Princeps. Now, have you anything to say?” His face became ashen as it drained of blood. He slowly shook his head, he seemed incapable of speech.
Livius stood and said to the decurions. “How do you find your fellow officer guilty or not guilty? Left hand for not guilty and right hand for guilty.” Slowly every hand that was raised was right. “Decurion Spartianus I sentence you to death by the bastinado.” The decurion slumped to the floor in a dazed heap.
The next day, before breakfast, the twenty men selected from the two hundred who had volunteered were assembled with cudgels and sticks they had acquired themselves. The two members of Spartianus’ turma who had helped him were strapped to wheels awaiting their flogging and The Fist was trying to make himself as small as possible. How he had evaded the punishment he had no idea but he thanked Aelius’ loyalty and silence in his prayers to the Allfather. The deposed decurion was brought out, his eyes angrily scanning those who were to kill him. As he was tied to a stake in the middle of the parade ground his eyes sought out The Fist and when he found him his eyes bored into those of his confederate. He mouthed the words, ‘Kill them all’ and waited until the thug nodded. He looked up at Livius. “When you come to Hades watch for me for I shall be waiting.”
Cassius nodded and the twenty men went silently to work breaking his legs, his feet, his arms, his knees. His cries screamed over the fort like a flock of angry seagulls. His ribs were shattered and they started on the head. The screams suddenly ceased. Within a few moments all that was left was a bloody pile of skin and broken bones. The two men waiting for their flogging suddenly looked heavenward to thank the Allfather for sparing them that.
“A warning to others. The punishment for treason or dereliction of duty is death. Death to all traitors.” The whole fort echoed the shout and across the river the Batavians wondered what their comrades in the nearby fort were doing.
Epilogue
The Emperor sat with Julius and Attianus in his private quarters, finally relaxing after his long and exhausting journey from the east. He had shed his stained travelling clothes and the three of them had shared the baths and were now enjoyed iced white wine in the cool of the evening. “It is these little pleasures one misses. Clean clothes, pleasant company and a chilled wine.”
“The east is secure then?” Attianus showed the pressure of running the Empire in Hadrian’s absence. He was relieved that the weight had been taken from his shoulders.
“As secure as it will ever be Attianus. I know that there will be many who say I gave away all of Trajan’s gains but we were being bled dry there in the dusty and empty desert and I have secured the trade routes as well as creating buffer zones defended by new allies. No, the east is secure for now. We can now build up the finances to help us with the frontier in Germania. I intend to go there once I have sorted out the Senate.”
“Good luck there then sir. I would rather face a horde of barbarians than those back stabbing, work shy wasters.” Julius had learned the hard way that life on the frontier did not prepare you for the dirty world of politics.
“So Julius you do not have a high opinion of your peers?”
“I think I spent too long with warriors who were real men, honest, loyal and Roman to the core, even though they were born in the provinces.”
“Good Julius because I have another job for you. I have recalled Bradua and the new governor of Britannia is Quintus Pompeius Falco. A sound man and he will make a good Governor.”
Julius nodded, “A good man.”
“He has my instructions but I would like you to go with him and prepare the work for building limes across Britannia. Livius has done a good job already and he has some good ideas. Once I have sorted Germania out then I will join you. You can take the Sixth. They are a good legion. Base them at Eboracum and use vexillations from all of the legions and the Classis Britannica to survey the area. I want camps building along the border to house the legions and I want Livius to keep it safe with his cavalry. If the tribes do come south I want legionaries to face them as well as the auxiliaries. Now are you up to it? I know you are no longer a young man.”
Julius smiled, since he had met up with Livius in Rome he felt younger and more invigorated than he had for years. “I would be honoured and I thank you for the trust you have in me.”
“No Julius the events in Rome and Britannia have shown me that those who can be trusted should be given complete trust.”
* * * * * *
Even though it was the depths of winter Livius had given permission for Marcus and his turma to escort Morag and Macro to the farm. Marcus had made Macro much happier and, as Metellus had pointed out, Morag seemed as keen on Marcus as she had once been on Macro. Marcus, for his part, was flattered that such a pretty girl took an interest in him. As they approached the farm she turned nervously to Macro. “I can still have that horse?”
Laughing Macro said, “When the weather is better I will have Cato take you to his stud and you can choose your own.”
“Who is Cato?”
Marcus looked at Macro, “Let us say he is just another one of the extended family of Marcus’ Horse.”
Under his breath Macro said back to Marcus, “Which is getting bigger by the day.”
The
guards had seen them approach and Gaius, Ailis and Decius were there to greet them. Ailis went straight to Macro and hugged him tightly. She held up his injured thumb, now healed and kissed it. Embarrassed he pulled himself away. “Mother, father this is Morag Princess of the Dumnonii and we would like her to be our guest.”
Ailis embraced the girl. “Of course.” Livius had sent a messenger as soon as they had landed and the fact that she was really a hostage made clear to Gaius and Ailis. Livius knew that the bird would be in a cage but it would be a large and gilded cage and she would not know.
Marcus looked at his father who glanced down at the sword hanging from his hip. “We heard about the use you put the sword to. I am glad that you listened to my words.”
“I always listen to tour words and speaking of words, where is your wife, good Decius, and my nephew, Marcus?”
Macro snorted, “You mean nephew Macro.”
“You are both wrong. My son Gaius Ulpius Aurelius is being nursed by his mother but I will take you to pay your respects.”
* * * * *
Across the seas in Manavia Morwenna and her daughters were gathered around a fire and a pot. Morwenna looked older than she had but she was now focussed on a new mission. They held a small doll with a sword and a shield. “Now Mother, help us destroy this man.” In their hands they had sharp needles. The pain, now symbolic, would become real and Morwenna was determined that Macro and the bitch who had fled with him would suffer such torments as nightmares are made of.
The end
List of characters and places in the novel
Those names in italics are fictional
Ailis
Gaius' wife
