“No, you saved him,” he said quietly. “This is fantastic news.”
“It doesn’t matter who did it,” Galena replied. “The important thing is that Marcus is no longer on that awful list of death.”
Fergus gazed down at his wife. Then abruptly he caught hold of her shoulders, spun her around and pulled her into him, before kissing her neck. In response Galena moaned, arched her back and laid her head into his shoulder, as Fergus’s hands groped her breasts before his fingers started to move down her stomach.
“I am going to have you right now and right here,” Fergus whispered, as he pulled her into one of the empty stables. Galena giggled in delight as the two of them tumbled into the straw.
***
It was around noon when Fergus, whistling a cheerful bawdy tune to himself, strode out through the gates of Hadrian’s home and started out in the direction of the Agora, the market place. The hundred and seventy-mile long road to Zeugma was nothing compared to the marches he’d undergone with the army. But his family would need some supplies for the journey tomorrow and he also had to treat his girls after his long absence. In the streets outside Hadrian’s villa, only a few people were about, and it was quiet. The scent of Galena’s perfume still clung to him, and suddenly distracted, he pictured her lithe, naked body lying in the straw of the stables. In the clear blue sky, the fierce sun beat down on the metropolis, encouraging its inhabitants to seek shelter from the sweltering midday heat. But as Fergus came out through the gates a solitary figure, with a hood covering his head, swiftly rose to his feet, from where he’d been sitting against a wall and hastily limped across the street towards him.
“Fergus,” the stranger suddenly called out in Latin. “Fergus is that really you?”
Fergus stopped in midstride and frowned, as he turned to face the stranger. Slowly the man lowered his hood and grinned with relief.
“Aledus,” Fergus exclaimed in surprise. “Aledus, what the hell are you doing here?”
Aledus grinned broadly and with relief, before taking a step forwards and quickly embracing his old army buddy. As he stepped back, Fergus shook his head in bewilderment and disbelief. This was turning out to be a day full of unexpected surprises.
“Good to see you, old friend,” Aledus said, ignoring Fergus’s question. “How long has it been? I seem to remember that you left our company at the end of the Dacian war.”
“Nine years,” Fergus grinned as he stared at Aledus. “Holy shit. That’s how long. And it’s good to see you too. But why the limp and the civilian clothes. I take it you are no longer in the army then?”
Aledus sighed and looked down at his leg. “You are right,” he replied. “Got a nasty leg wound that gave me this limp. Can’t run and couldn’t keep up with the boys on the march. So, the army gave me a medical discharge. That was about two years ago now.”
“Shit, that’s bad luck,” Fergus said, grinning from ear to ear as he gazed at Aledus. For a moment he was silent as he studied his friend in amazement. “What a coincidence that we run into each other here in Antioch of all places,” he said at last.
A sheepish look appeared in Aledus’s eyes. “Well actually it isn’t a coincidence,” Aledus said with a weary sigh. “I have been in Antioch for over a month now, trying to find you. They said that you lived in Hadrian’s villa, but the guards would not let me in or confirm that you were in residence.” Aledus paused. “I was sent to find you and pass on a message.”
“By who?” Fergus exclaimed sharply.
“By your father, Marcus,” Aledus replied quickly, as he turned to look around the near deserted street. “He sent me to find you. I have come all the way from Rome. It’s been a long journey and you are not an easy man to find.” Aledus paused and then turned to Fergus with a serious expression. “Look we need to talk,” he said quietly. “Do you know a good place where we can go? Preferably one that serves quality wine. This heat is killing me, and you are buying, because I am running out of money.”
***
“I am sorry Fergus,” Aledus said as he finished recounting the message that Marcus had tasked him with delivering.
Across the small corner table in the quiet city taberna, tavern, Fergus was staring down into his mug of clear water. For a long moment he said nothing as sombrely he took in what Aledus had just told him. Marcus and his whole family were still in mortal danger. They may have got out of Rome and fled to Vectis, but even in Britannia they would not be safe. Nigrinus was one of the most powerful men in Rome and his reach, and that of the War Party, would be long. The triumph of getting Marcus removed from Hadrian’s list had been replaced by a new, unexpected danger much closer to home. A danger, which he Fergus was ill-equipped to deal with.
“Thank you,” Fergus said at last, as he looked up and gave Aledus a nod. “My father was right to trust you. You have been a good and most loyal friend.”
“Your father is a good man and I had nothing else to do,” Aledus said raising his hand. “After the army discharged me I drifted back to Londinium for a while to see my family. But I couldn’t settle, I was restless, directionless, without motivation. I missed the army life, but they would not have me back. Jobs came and went as did the women. So, last year I decided to go to Rome and seek my fortune in the city. Rome is where the money is and it’s so much more interesting than provincial Londinium.”
Fergus frowned, as he studied Aledus from across the small table.
“But the gold that we took from Dacia,” Fergus said, lowering his voice. “Surely you had enough to live out a comfortable life?”
“You would have thought so,” Aledus replied with a little embarrassed chuckle. “I gave some of my fortune to my family, but I lost the rest.” Aledus shrugged and looked away. “Whores, girl-friends, wine, gambling. It all went in the end. I lost it all unfortunately. I am as broke as an ugly whore.”
“Fucking hell,” Fergus swore as he shook his head. “Tell me that you enjoyed yourself at least.”
“I did,” Aledus grinned. “More than you can imagine. I can fill your head with the most outrageous stories Fergus, but I have never been any good with money.”
Across the table, Fergus grinned. Then he raised his cup and the two of them clinked their mugs together.
“So, what are you going to do?” Aledus asked leaning forwards across the table.
Fergus sighed and looked down at his mug of water. “Hadrian has arranged for me to become the Tribune laticlavius of the Fourth Legion,” he said quietly. “I am leaving for Zeugma tomorrow. It’s on the Euphrates.”
“They have appointed you second in command,” Aledus exclaimed, as his eyes widened in shock.
“They have,” Fergus grinned.
Aledus leaned back in his chair and exhaled sharply. “Shit Fergus, how the hell did you manage that? It only seems like yesterday that you and I were running errands for Furius in Deva.”
“Hadrian arranged it all,” Fergus growled. “It helps when you have a powerful, influential patron and your father is a senator. They open doors for you.”
“No doubt,” Aledus replied, as he gazed at Fergus with renewed respect. “Well I am glad that one of us has made something of himself.”
“And Catinius, what has become of him?” Fergus asked quickly.
“He lives,” Aledus replied. “At least he did when I last saw him. He is still with the Twentieth at Deva. They have made him an optio. He is doing well I think.” Aledus paused as he gazed at Fergus. “So, you still banging the wife? The tavern owner’s daughter who owned the Lucky. What was her name; Galena?”
“I am,” Fergus replied with a little smirk. “She has given me five daughters.”
“Five daughters,” Aledus grinned and shook his head. “Well done you. Well done Galena. That’s going to cost you when they get married.”
Fergus waved the comment away with a good-natured movement of his hand. For a while the two of them sat without talking, content in each other’s company as they savoured the old memories each ha
d rekindled. Then at last Fergus looked up, his face suddenly serious looking.
“Will you return to the Isle of Vectis and seek out my father?” he said gazing across at Aledus. “I will give you money for the passage. Tell him to have hope. But if you have other plans I will understand.”
“Ofcourse I will go to Vectis,” Aledus said, without hesitation. “Like I said, your father is a good man and I am sure he will have a job for me. Besides,” Aledus paused, as a little private smile appeared on his lips. “There is someone in your father’s household who has caught my fancy. One of your mother’s slave girls. Finest specimen of woman that I have ever encountered. We have something together. Maybe I will even marry her. If your father agrees to set her free.”
Fergus looked away, his face sombre. “My father is more than capable of looking after himself and his family,” Fergus continued, in a quiet, sober voice. “But he is also stubborn to the point of foolishness and proud. He will need your help in defending his farm. I fear he has bitten off more than he can chew this time. He is not the kind of a man who will abandon his property without a fight. If Nigrinus sends men to Vectis, my father will fight them. He is not going to run away from his farm.”
Fergus sighed and for a moment he struggled to speak.
“I will ask Hadrian to write to the Governor of Britannia, asking for the Governor to extend his protection to my family. I think the present governor is a supporter of the Peace Party, but I can’t be sure of that. That’s the best way in which I can help them.”
“Will that work?” Aledus replied, looking down at the table.
“I don’t know,” Fergus said in a weary voice. “I don’t know whether Hadrian will agree to send the letter. I am not entirely sure the governor in Britannia is on our side and maybe it will all come too late, but it’s the best I can do.”
Across the table Aledus slowly nodded.
“I will go to Vectis, Fergus,” he said in a calm voice. “You can rely on me, old friend. I have missed a good fight. I have missed being part of something.”
Fergus nodded and slowly extended his arm across the table and, as he grasped it in the legionary fashion, Aledus grinned.
“Then we shall meet again at my father’s farm on Vectis,” Fergus said with a heavy heart. “And we shall see you married to that slave girl. May the gods protect you and ensure a safe journey. Tell my father and my family to have hope.”
Chapter Thirty-One – The Fourth “Scythica” Legion
The blue waters of the Euphrates dazzled and glinted in the fierce noon sunlight; a most refreshing sight amongst the stunted trees, prickly bushes and arid semi-desert of the surrounding countryside. It was noon and it was sizzling hot. Above, in the clear blue skies there was not a speck of cloud to be seen. The Roman villa stood alone on a small rocky hill overlooking the wide, sluggish river just outside the city of Zeugma and from the garden top terrace the views were magnificent. A pair of tall Greek-style stone columns adorned the main entrance and the roof was covered in neat red tiles. Down the bottom of the rocky, terraced garden, where the lazy river water lapped up against the bank, Fergus’s daughters were excitedly exploring their new home under the watchful gaze of one of the slave girls.
On the villa’s terrace, Fergus, wearing his legionary armour and clutching a horsehair crested helmet in his hands, was standing still, as Galena and another slave fussed over his uniform and splendid red cape with its broad purple border. The broad purple stripe was a symbol of his new rank as second in command of the Fourth Legion. Today was going to be his first day officially back in the army. His excitement however was tempered by the news Aledus had brought and it had been with a heavy heart that he’d left Antioch to take up his new post. Sombrely and silently, Fergus turned to look at the stone terrace floor. The news from Rome had presented him with a choice and he’d made it. He had chosen to remain in the east and continue his army career. Had Marcus expected him to return to Vectis and Britannia right away? Was his father expecting him to come and help defend the farm against Nigrinus? Part of him had wanted to go but what would he be able to achieve? He would be putting Galena and his daughters in danger. If Marcus needed men to defend himself and his farm, then he would find them closer to home. His father had contacts amongst the Batavian veteran’s community. He had defended his farm before. No, he had resolved, his best chance at helping his family was to use Hadrian. To get him to write a letter to the governor of Britannia, asking him to extend his protection to Marcus. But Hadrian had refused to see him before he’d left for Zeugma. Instead he had been reduced to speaking to Adalwolf, who had agreed and promised to raise the matter. However, there was no guarantee that Hadrian would agree or act on his request. There was no way of knowing whether his plan would work or whether it would come too late. So, he had left Antioch for the Euphrates, worried, helpless and ignorant to his family’s fate, a world away on Vectis. And that worry would be his burden to carry; his alone.
Out on the Euphrates a couple of local fishing boats had dropped anchor and cast their nets, Downstream, through the shimmering noon heat, Fergus could see the bridge of pontoon boats that stretched for several hundred yards across the river. It reminded him of the bridge across the Danube that he’d crossed at the start of the invasion of Dacia. The pontoon bridge connected Zeugma on the right bank with its twin town of Apamea on the left and eastern bank. Fergus sighed as he stood still, feeling the relentless heat from the sun beating down on him. Hadrian’s Greek advisers had given him a short but concise briefing before he had departed from Antioch. They had explained that the Euphrates had long formed the eastern frontier of the Roman empire. Zeugma they had told him was an important city of eighty thousand people. That was why the Fourth Legion had its base near the town, for Zeugma controlled one of the few crossing points on the Euphrates. A place of great strategic importance. The river itself also marked the cultural border between the Mediterranean world and that of the Near East. Hadrian’s Greek advisers had explained that the lands on the eastern bank of the river belonged to the Kingdom of Osrhoene, a Parthian vassal state which, under Roman pressure and surrounded on three sides by Roman territory, had recently switched sides, pledging its allegiance to Trajan and to Rome. The capitulation had meant that the frontier had shifted hundreds of miles to the east and south, to the Chaboras river and the line of hills and ridges that ran eastwards towards the city of Singara, captured only a few months before by Lusius Quietus.
Beside Fergus, the slave girl respectfully stepped backwards and lowered her eyes. Galena too had stopped fussing and was smiling at her husband, her face radiant and beaming with pride.
“You look magnificent,” Galena purred, casting an approving eye over her husband. “A senior legionary commander must look the part.” Then a mischievous twinkle appeared in her eyes. “And just as handsome as the first day that I caught you staring at me in my father’s tavern in Deva.”
***
As Fergus approached the city gate on horseback, the tall walls of the city of Zeugma reflected the sunlight, trying to blind him. Stoically Fergus pushed on, ignoring the annoying flies that buzzed around his sweat-drenched head. The city partly abutted the banks of the Euphrates and, high up on a hill that dominated the town, he could make out the citadel, home to the barbarian goddess Tyche and the HQ of the Fourth Scythica. Casting his gaze towards the river he could see wagons, horses and figures crossing the pontoon bridge. The war it seemed had not disrupted trade and along the walls he could see no obvious defensive preparations. The city’s inhabitants seemed to be at ease, confident that the Parthian and Armenian threat was far away. And that was just as well for the villa, that had been assigned to his family, was beyond the protection of the city walls.
The city gate was open and guarded by the local city watch. The armed, bearded warriors, clutching round shields and spears, stared at him as he trotted on into the city, but no one attempted to challenge or stop him. Ahead, the regular Greek style city blocks opened
into a broad colonnaded avenue, similar but much smaller than the main thoroughfare that ran the length of Antioch. The familiar noise of the advertising cries of the merchants and traders rang out in the street, mixing with the thud of horses’ hooves, laughter, the tramp of boots and sandals, barking dogs, the trundle of wagon wheels and the impatient mooing of cattle. As he pushed on down the colonnaded avenue, Fergus caught sight of some legionaries drinking and gambling in the shade of a tree. The men’s helmets, shields and spears lay carelessly discarded on the ground and the soldiers appeared to be drunk. With a disapproving look, Fergus turned his gaze away. From the buildings, the fatness of the inhabitants, the quality of their clothing, the abundance of food and other goods and the busyness in the streets, he could see that this was a prosperous town. A little further up the main street he caught sight of a queue of legionaries waiting patiently to enter a whorehouse. A he gazed at the scene, a stark-naked woman suddenly appeared in one of the second-floor windows, seductively rubbed her vagina with a cloth and tossed it down into the queue of soldiers. In the street the soldiers cheered and a mad, undignified scramble to claim the soiled cloth broke out in full view of the passers-by. Fergus looked away in disgust. At the camp in Deva in Britannia, amongst the men of the Twentieth, the weak, effeminate and low quality of the legions based in Syria had been a source of deep contempt. And Fergus could see why. The wealth and easily available pleasures of a town like Zeugma seemed to have influenced morale and discipline.
The squad of legionaries on duty at the gate into the fortress, atop the steep hill on the edge of the city, nevertheless saluted smartly as they caught sight of him. Passing into the citadel Fergus came to a halt in a square courtyard and dismounted, handing the reins of his horse to a slave boy who came running up to him. Apart from the slave, there was no one about in the courtyard. No one to welcome him and, for a moment, Fergus looked lost as he gazed around. Above him, the fierce sun beat down and all was silent. The fortress was far too small to house an entire legion, but this was the place where he’d been told to report to the legionary legate. With a grunt Fergus headed for one of the dark doorways that led into the stone buildings. In the passage way beyond, several doors led into small rooms filled with stale, hot air. A few soldiers looked up as he passed on by but only a few rose stiffly to their feet to salute him.
Rome and the Conquest of Mesopotamia (Book 8 of the Veteran of Rome Series) Page 30
