by Alex Gough
‘He showed his true colours in the end,’ said Atius between deep breaths.
‘Odo? What makes you say that?’
‘No sense of loyalty, like all these Germans.’
‘Why do you hate him so much? Is it because of what you have been through?’
‘Look, Silus. We had a guide, too. A Bructeri called Aldric. He was working for the Chatti the whole time, leaving them signs so they could track us. It’s his fault my men are dead. His fault I was captured. That Eustachys…’ He broke off abruptly.
‘Odo isn’t like that. He is Alamanni, not Bructeri or Chatti, for a start.’
‘They are all the same.’
‘And he has proven himself, again and again.’
‘It’s just a ploy. Getting you into his confidence.’
‘For what purpose? It doesn’t make any sense. Look, Silus, I like him. He even invited me into his house.’
‘He did what?’
‘It was on the way. We stayed for the night.’
‘Don’t tell me, he ended up in your bed.’
‘Fuck you, Atius!’
They continued on in angry silence for a while. Then Silus said, ‘It wasn’t him that ended up in my bed.’
‘What? Who?’
‘Well. I thought it was a slave girl who came to my room in the night. I only found out when it was too late that it was his sister.’
Atius turned to stare at him, then burst out laughing.
‘Christos, Silus.’
‘Don’t tell, for Mithras’ sake.’
Atius glanced back over his shoulder. ‘I don’t think I will get the chance.’
Silus looked back too. The pursuing warriors were gaining on them, there was no doubt. Maybe half a mile back now. He could make out their numbers, if not their arms and features at this distance. They came on at a slow jog, and Silus felt like a stag being worn down by a wolf pack, harrying and harassing until the prey dropped from exhaustion and was torn apart.
They stopped speaking for a while, saving their breath. But as the inevitable got closer, as Silus felt his lifespan measured in paces, in pounding heartbeats rather than in days or even hours, he felt curiosity getting the better of him.
‘What was all this about, Atius? Why the fuck were you out here?’
Atius looked behind him again. ‘They’re close.’
Silus looked back too. The gap was down to a quarter of a mile, and closing rapidly as Atius slowed. They were hurrying along a well-used cart track now, no longer needing to worry about concealment. Ahead and to the right was a small copse. Silus indicated it, and they headed towards the trees. Maybe it would make no difference, but a bit of cover might make the fight easier. Though he knew it would make no difference in the end, the urge to survive was strong.
‘Tell me,’ said Silus.
‘Really? Now?’
‘If not now, when?’
‘It doesn’t matter any more.’
‘Yes it fucking matters. We are both throwing our lives away, for the sake of this mission. So what the fuck was it?’
Silus could hear the shouts clearly now. The copse was a hundred yards away, but the warriors only fifty yards behind. Atius was breathing hard, and his pace could not even be considered a fast walk any more. They weren’t going to make it.
‘Atius! Why are we about to die?’ he yelled in exasperation.
‘I’m not telling you, alright? You don’t want to know. Die happy, in ignorance and honour.’
‘Romans. Stop!’ The shouted order came from right behind them. Silus grabbed Atius’ arm, pulling him to a halt, and they turned to face their attackers. Silus held the spear before them, just like the Chatti boy he had taken it from had. He felt about as dangerous as that child, before the angry, leering Chatti. They formed a semi-circle around the two Romans, keeping just out of reach. Silus recognised the leader. It was Radulf, the head of the party that had previously captured Odo and him. He spoke to the warrior next to him, who could obviously speak some Latin and could translate.
‘Throw your spear down, Roman,’ said the translator.
‘Come and take it,’ retorted Silus.
The Chatti leader laughed and spat some coarse Germanic words. ‘Do you think it would be difficult?’ came the translation.
‘You might be surprised.’
Radulf motioned two of his men forward. Silus gripped the spear tight, uncertain whether to lunge, stand his ground, or turn it on Atius. Atius stood to his side, defiant, but weak and unarmed. The two muscular warriors approaching both held axes. Silus had the reach over them, but it wouldn’t hold them at bay for long. They moved apart so Silus could not keep the spear trained on them both at once. Slowly they advanced.
And then stopped.
Silus feinted at them, wondering if he really looked that menacing. The warriors stepped backwards.
‘Ha. You see what it’s like to face a Roman man to man, don’t you?’ He was half-aware that he was babbling, maybe losing control, but he didn’t care. He took a step forward. ‘Come on then, you fuckers. I’m here, come and take me if you dare.’
The warriors took another step back and Silus laughed, shaking the spear one-handed in their direction. ‘Cowards! Fight me!’
He felt Atius’ light touch on his arm.
‘Silus.’
‘Is this what the Chatti are made of?’ taunted Silus. ‘No braver than old women?’
‘Silus,’ said Atius again. Silus glanced sideways at him, and Atius nodded backwards. Keeping half an eye on the Chatti, Silus turned.
Arrayed in two ranks, with bows strung and arrows nocked, were two dozen mounted Germanic warriors. In the centre, on a bay stallion, sat Odo’s father, Boda. Next to him, seated on a grey, shaggy-maned pony, was Odo. Silus stared at him in disbelief, and Odo gave him a cheeky grin.
Radulf took one step forward. He was big, as leaders in German tribes often were, Silus had noted, and he carried his war-axe across chest in two hands. He called out a challenge to the horsemen in Germanic dialect. Boda replied in Latin, Silus presumed for the benefit of himself and Atius.
‘I am Boda of the Alamanni. You are trespassing in Alamanni lands, Chatti.’
‘This is Radulf of the Chatti,’ called out the Chatti translator. ‘He demands that you let him take these criminals.’
‘What is their crime?’
‘Murder. Spying. Sacrilege.’
‘We have a witness who says that is not true.’
Radulf scanned the lines of the horsemen, and his eyes came to rest on Odo. He pointed, his finger shaking, and yelled at him in German. Odo replied defiantly in the same language.
Boda replied in a steady voice that was full of threat.
‘Tell Radulf that he had better beware whom he calls traitor. Odo is my son.’
Radulf glared at Ansigar and spoke directly to him, his tone loud and furious.
Boda replied in Latin. ‘You are in no position to make threats, Chatti. Now leave our lands immediately, or we will fill you all full of arrows.’
The Alamanni raised their bows now, aimed and pulled the strings taut to their ears. Silus could see the tension in their arms, the quivering muscles. They could only hold that position for so long before they had to loose, or let the string go slack. Radulf glared at Boda, and they held each other’s stare. But Boda, from his elevated position on horseback, with superior numbers and an advantage in ranged weaponry, remained confident and imperturbable. So it was Radulf who broke the eye contact first, looking away with a curse and motioning his men to back off. Boda gave a signal to his archers and they eased the strain off their bowstrings and pointed the bows downwards.
Radulf shouted what Silus presumed were more threats and curses at Ansigar, then turned and stalked away, his men following reluctantly behind.
Silus watched them go, releasing a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. Beside him, Atius’ legs buckled and he sank to the ground.
Odo dismounted and ran over to
them both.
‘Is he hurt?’ asked their young guide, voice full of concern.
‘Just exhausted,’ said Silus.
Atius looked up. ‘I thought you had left us.’
Odo looked offended. ‘Haven’t I proven myself to you by now?’
When it became obvious that Atius wasn’t going to reply, Silus filled in. ‘Of course you have. More than once.’ Silus gave Atius an annoyed glance, but Atius was staring at his feet, withdrawn. He turned to Odo.
‘You ran for help?’
Odo nodded. ‘We’re in Alammani territory now. I knew we were near my uncle’s village. When I asked him for help, he gathered his men and rode straight here.’
Boda had been watching Radulf and his men retreating, and when he was satisfied, he dismounted and approached Silus.
‘You brought my son home.’
‘It kind of feels like it’s the other way round,’ said Silus.
‘That isn’t how he tells it. He thinks you are a man of courage and honour.’ He looked at Atius. ‘This is the friend that you came to Germania to rescue?’
Odo had obviously told his father more than he should have, but Silus could hardly hold that against him in the circumstances. He nodded. ‘Yes, this is Atius.’
‘You journeyed far and risked everything for him. Every man should have a friend such as you.’
Silus had the grace to look humble.
‘We are only a few miles from my house. You and your friend can ride with us, and then you can rest and eat.’
Silus smiled, and then it suddenly hit him. He had done it. He had got Atius out, and they had both escaped with their lives.
He put a hand down to help Atius to his feet.
‘We’re safe, Atius.’
Atius looked around at the Alamanni warriors, expression unreadable.
‘No one is ever truly safe,’ he said.
* * *
Boda told tall tales about great hunts from his youth as he became drunker and drunker on the strong beer. Stories of facing down charging boars with only a spear, of tracking a lone wolf that had been stealing lambs for days through winter snow before taking it down with a single arrow. Odo drank and ate sparingly, and listened to his father with evident equal parts amusement and admiration. Ada made sure the slaves were attentive in keeping them all supplied with meat and drink, and otherwise kept a benign eye on the feast, smiling indulgently, but clearly lovingly, at Boda.
Silus had found himself sitting next to Ima, though he wasn’t quite sure how that had happened. When it was Silus’ turn to tell stories, and he told them of Rome and Syracuse and Alexandria, he could see her from the corner of his eye, hanging on his every word. He found himself blushing and tripping over his words because of the close attention, but no one else seemed to notice.
Least of all Atius, who was quiet and sullen throughout the evening. When he got up to relieve himself, Silus followed him outside. He caught up with Atius standing against a tree.
‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’
‘Can’t a man have a piss in peace?’
‘Why are you behaving like this?’
Atius let out a sigh, and the smell of urine filled the air. ‘Behaving like what, Silus?’
‘Like an ungrateful, ungracious ass.’
Atius finished, shook, and put himself away. He turned to Silus.
‘What should I be grateful for exactly, Silus? For being captured, for being tortured for weeks on end. For seeing my men slaughtered, the man I was supposed to protect lose his mind from the torments he was put through?’
‘That was the Chatti. Not the Alamanni.’
‘They are all the same. All Germans, all barbarians.’
‘You know that’s not true. Look at the way the Alammani live. They are almost Romans. They seem to want to be part of the Empire.’
‘You can put a toga on a pig, doesn’t make it a senator.’
‘You’re being ridiculous. And unreasonable. I know you have been through a lot…’
‘You know nothing.’
‘Fine, fine. I don’t know how bad it was. But I do know you would still be there if it wasn’t for Odo.’
‘Your pet guide. Whose sister you fucked?’
‘Keep your voice down,’ hissed Silus.
‘How do you think he will feel if he finds out? Think he will still be your special friend? Or will he turn on you, like my guide turned on me.’
‘Odo has been nothing but loyal. I owe him my life. And so do you.’
Atius turned to Silus and stood for a moment, face to face with him.
‘I’m going to find a barn to sleep in. Somewhere where I can only smell animals, and not Germans.’
Silus watched him go, bewildered and exasperated.
When he went back inside, Boda was singing and Ewald, Odo’s younger brother, was accompanying him on a hand-held drum. Silus took his seat next to Ima. While all eyes were on the performing pair, she put her hand on the inside of his thigh and squeezed.
He knew then that she was going to come to him again that night. And he knew, too, that he wasn’t going to refuse.
Chapter Twelve
Their arrival back in Colonia felt flat and anti-climactic to Silus. The sky was grey, with a fine, persistent drizzle hanging in the air. No cheering crowds. No legionaries lining the streets, saluting them as they passed.
A donkey cart, travelling too fast, swerved to miss a sedan chair and drove through a puddle, splashing Silus with cold, muddy water. He shouted a curse at the cart driver, who made an obscene gesture back as he disappeared down the street. Silus looked down at himself, tunic brown and soaking. He wiped his face, and noticed Atius smiling. Not guffawing with laughter, as the man of old would have done, but it was better than nothing.
Silus wanted to get Atius to a tavern and find him a bed. The day’s journey had left him looking fragile once more. But Atius insisted on reporting back to Festus and Oclatinius immediately, and his almost frantic expression caused Silus to relent. Silus insisted that they approach Oclatinius first. He had no trust in Festus, and much as he resented Oclatinius’ manipulations and threats, he still respected him and believed in his loyalty. He sent Odo off to procure them rooms, and he and Atius went in search of their commanding officer.
After a few enquiries, they tracked him down to a room in the governor’s residence, which building Caracalla had made his headquarters for the campaign.
A civilian slave announced them and they were shown into a spacious study, with a large desk and two chairs. As it turned out, Festus was with Oclatinius anyway, and the Commander of the Sacred Bedchamber and the Head of the Arcani both got to their feet and stared as the two men entered.
Festus wore an expression of shock, and it was Oclatinius who recovered his composure first.
‘You could have made yourself a little less slovenly before presenting yourself, the pair of you,’ he said.
This was the point where Atius usually said something recklessly smart and funny. But now he said nothing. Silus gave him a sideways glance, then replied.
‘Sorry, sir. Atius didn’t want to delay his report.’
‘You’re alive,’ said Festus, finally finding his voice, though it barely reached above a whisper. ‘But… how?’
‘Would you like our full account now, sir?’ asked Silus.
‘No, no, it can wait. Just tell me, Atius. Eustachys?’
Atius shook his head.
Festus pursed his lips. His mouth formed words as if he had momentarily forgotten how to express himself. Eventually he said, ‘And did he…?’
‘He did not reveal what he knew to the barbarians. You trained him well.’
Festus nodded, then another thought seemed to occur to him.
‘And did he tell you?’
‘He did.’
Festus whitened. ‘And you kept it secret too?’
‘Yes. I didn’t even tell Silus here.’
Silus gritted his teeth, frustrate
d, feeling like a child eavesdropping on a conversation the adults didn’t want him hearing, and talking in code. ‘Yes, the sparrow is D-E-A-D but don’t tell you-know-who until we have found one that looks the same.’
‘I didn’t train you,’ said Festus. ‘How did you hold out?’
‘I was lucky. They didn’t give me quite the same attention they lavished on Eustachys. If they had, I doubt I would have lasted the day before I told them everything.’
Festus looked over at Oclatinius, whose expression was grim. ‘Tell Festus everything,’ said Oclatinius. ‘Then go and get some rest. Silus, walk with me.’
Oclatinius put his arm around Silus’ shoulder and ushered him out of the room, shutting the door behind them. Silus turned to see Atius slump into a chair, before he disappeared from view.
‘What’s going on?’ said Silus angrily. ‘Atius won’t talk to me. He’s behaving like someone completely different. I don’t know him any more. And there is some shady shit about his mission, and I want to know what it is.’
Oclatinius sighed, and guided him down the corridor, away from the room where Festus and Atius were talking in private. ‘Actually, you really don’t want to know.’
‘That’s what Atius told me. Which makes me want to know all the more.’
‘It will all become apparent, all too soon.’ He ushered Silus to a side door, and the duty Praetorian guards came to attention at the sight of Oclatinius. ‘Go and eat and drink, then meet me back here in an hour. Caracalla will want to see you. He has a task.’
‘Of course he fucking does.’
Silus stomped off in search of a tavern.
* * *
‘There is someone I need you to kill.’
Caracalla had wasted little time on pleasantries. Silus thought his mood seemed dark. He was perpetually frowning, but the lines on his forehead seemed deeper than Silus remembered, and he often pressed his fingers to his temples on both sides, like he was trying to relieve the pain of a throbbing headache. Silus guessed that was what happened to you when you killed your brother while he was in his mother’s arms. When a man’s character became darker, it had implications for all those around him. When that man was Emperor, what implications did it have for the Empire, for the world?
