The Forgotten Legion tflc-1

by Ben Kane

  'I am no slave.'

  Romulus was stunned by his friend's words. They meant instant death. His efforts to win the Gaul over had obviously taken seed. But now was not the time. Better to take a beating.

  'What did you say?' Caelius spat.

  Romulus had opened his mouth to speak when Brennus punched the angry noble in the belly. Caelius went down like a sack of lead, mouth open wide with shock.

  Heart racing, Romulus moved closer. 'Let's go!' he hissed.

  'What in Jupiter's name is going on?' A slave nearly as big as Macro appeared in the doorway. 'Who called?'

  Caelius tried to speak, but a hefty kick from Brennus sent him sprawling deeper into the gutter.

  'This fellow just bumped into me. Seems to have had too much wine,' Brennus said, smoothing down his tunic. 'We were coming to visit your beautiful ladies.'

  Confused, the doorman gaped at Brennus, then at Caelius. Something did not quite fit.

  'Wait a moment,' he growled. At last it sank in. 'You're a gladiator! That famous Gaul!'

  'Come on,' urged Romulus. There was still time to flee.

  'Caelius! Caelius!' The noble 's friends had finally seen what was happening. They came running to his aid.

  'Take those rogues into custody!' screeched one.

  Brennus' blood was up. 'Know who I am?' he bellowed. 'Don't even think of touching me.'

  The guard hesitated, but then the pretence failed. 'Party's over,' he said, reaching for the cudgel on his belt. 'You're a slave like me.'

  'Seize him!' yelled an equestrian.

  'Ignore those bastards. Let us go,' Romulus urged.

  'Huh?' the doorman replied uncertainly. 'But. '

  'What do you care about bloody patricians?'

  'I have to obey.'

  'Says who?' Romulus cried. 'Make your own choice!'

  'Come on,' said Brennus. 'Join us!'

  'Make a run for it!'

  'I'd be killed.' Fear filled the slave 's eyes and he drew the club. 'Just give in. With luck you'll only get a beating.'

  Romulus' heart sank. The equestrians were nearly on them, all chance of escape gone. Their night out was over.

  'No one is laying a hand on me, by Belenus!' Brennus roared, the wine coursing through him. 'I am a free man!'

  'What else can we do?' Romulus had meant to flee the scene, not fight. 'They're nobles.'

  'Kill a few!'

  'No, you idiot!' This was not how he saw things happening. Outside a brothel was no place to start a rebellion.

  But it was too late.

  Brennus grabbed the doorman by the tunic, delivering an almighty head-butt. With blood pumping from a smashed nose, the hulk reeled away in agony, clutching his face with both hands. The Gaul seized him by the shoulder and leather belt and, with a great heave, threw the man headlong back into the building.

  'Turn around, slave!'

  Romulus spun quickly.

  Covered in mud, Caelius was only five paces away, dagger in hand. He was flanked by his friends, similarly armed.

  'Thought patricians didn't carry weapons?' Romulus answered, anger rising. His gladius slid from the scabbard.

  'They're useful for killing scum,' snarled Caelius, lunging forward.

  Romulus dodged the drunken move easily as Brennus swept in from the left and poleaxed the equestrian for the third time.

  'You were right,' the Gaul said to Romulus, grinning. 'Try not to kill any, or they'll crucify us for sure!'

  Pleased by Brennus' restraint, he barely had time to nod. Caelius' companions attacked in a wave of swinging knives and flapping togas, but Romulus was less intoxicated than the nobles. It was easy to smash the hilt of his sword into the swarm of frenzied faces. He swept the blade 's flat edge at any who came too close and they retreated, wary of his blade. Facing down six armed men was an exhilarating feeling.

  Romulus felt something pulling on his tunic. It was Caelius. Instinctively he cracked the patrician on the head, seeing him slump unconscious to the dirt from the corner of his eye.

  He and Brennus held the group at bay for some time. They batted away drunken thrusts, laughing at how easy it was. Their enemies cursed and spat with rage, but were unable to get within knife range.

  The stalemate was not to last. Attracted by the commotion, five slaves came charging out, swords and cudgels in hand. One was a bodyguard, but the rest looked like unfit kitchen workers. It seemed brothels did not need more than two professional doormen.

  'Time to leave.' Brennus slammed one of the fatter men against the wall, then landed a punch in his solar plexus. He toppled to the ground with a groan.

  'Fighting retreat, eh?' Finally the Gaul drew his longsword.

  'About time,' Romulus snapped.

  The pair moved closer, edging into the centre of the street, weapons held threateningly in front. 'Stay where you are!' roared Brennus. 'Next man who comes near gets gutted.'

  The slaves held back, reluctant to risk injury or death in a fight that wasn't theirs. Three figures were already lying prone in the mud. Sensing the fight was lost, the nobles still standing made obscene gestures at the fighters.

  'Run for it!' Brennus sheathed his sword. 'Back to the ludus damn quick.'

  A cry from the brothel followed into the darkness.

  'Murder!' A portly figure stooped over the redheaded man. 'They have killed Caelius!'

  'An equestrian has been killed!'

  'It was the boy! I saw him,' cried another. 'Send for the lictor and his guards!'

  'Gods above,' Brennus wheezed. 'What have you done?'

  'Me? Nothing,' yelled Romulus. 'You should have just let me take the beating.'

  'Couldn't do that. I owe you, remember?'

  'Thanks. But save it for when I really need you.'

  'It was his arrogance!'

  Romulus chuckled knowingly.

  'And the wine,' admitted the Gaul. 'But you put the idea in my head.'

  'Not the best way to start a rebellion, Brennus.'

  His friend's face turned sheepish. 'So what did you kill him for?'

  'I didn't!' Romulus took one last despairing look at the chaos behind. 'Belted him across the head, but it wasn't enough to kill.'

  'You must have cracked his skull then,' said Brennus. 'It is easily done.'

  Inside the brothel, everyone had heard the racket. Fabiola was waiting in the anteroom beside reception when Vettius came flying through the door. He collided with a statue, bringing it to the floor with a crash. Alarmed, she ran out to find the doorman semi-conscious, blood pouring from his nose. Pieces of broken stone were scattered across the mosaic tiles. Clients stood by, looking horrified. The Lupanar was normally an island of calm in the dangerous city. A group of girls they had been eyeing up clung to each other nervously.

  'Benignus!' Fabiola screeched. 'Get out here!'

  'What's going on?' Jovina emerged from the corridor to the back, lips pursed.

  'Don't know, Madam. Someone threw Vettius inside.' Fabiola risked a glance through the doorway. By the light of the torches, she could see two cloaked figures with swords fighting the men who had just left. 'Looks like thieves trying to rob those nobles.'

  'Benignus!' Jovina spat a curse. 'Where is that brute?'

  The second doorman appeared a few moments later, adjusting his tunic after a visit to relieve himself. 'Madam called?'

  Jovina went bright red. 'My customers are being attacked out there. Get Catus and the others!'

  Confused, Benignus finally took in Vettius lying prone, Fabiola kneeling close by and the clash of arms outside. He turned and sprinted down the corridor, yelling at the top of his voice.

  'And some weapons!' Jovina darted over, bolting the door while they waited. She turned, smiling ingratiatingly at the shocked customers. 'Just a little altercation, gentlemen,' the madam purred. 'Your choice of girl is half-price tonight.'

  Scared faces brightened. Soon the men had disappeared, lustful thoughts banishing all else from their minds.
/>   Jovina paced up and down, waiting impatiently for the slaves.

  Fabiola rolled a handkerchief, holding it firmly against Vettius' broken nose to stop the bleeding. The Greek surgeon would be able to straighten it later. Eventually his eyes opened, focusing slowly.

  'What in Hades is going on?'

  'Two slaves tried to come in,' Vettius mumbled. 'Attacked a noble just outside.'

  'Slaves?' Fabiola said sharply. That was very unusual. 'Are you sure?'

  The doorman nodded. 'Big bastard, one of them. That Gaulish gladiator.'

  Benignus came tearing back, the rest on his heels. All were armed with knives, swords or cudgels. The kitchen slaves looked scared. Fighting was not part of their normal duties.

  'What are you waiting for?' screamed Jovina. She pulled open the door. 'Get out there!'

  The group tumbled outside, more fearful of their owner than of physical danger.

  A few moments later, the sounds of clashing weapons ceased. They heard shouts as the robbers ran off, then silence. Abruptly an equestrian began screaming that murder had been done.

  Jovina scowled. This night was not going well. Money had already been lost on discounts. Now someone was dead. Bad news like this travelled fast through the city. She peered into the street, checking it was safe, then ventured forth.

  Fabiola followed her to the entrance.

  Toga-clad figures lay in the dirt, one with a large red stain on his chest. Slaves stood by uncertainly while the surviving nobles roared after their assailants.

  The madam took in the scene at a glance. 'Take three of these fools,' she said crisply to Benignus. 'Go to the Forum and bring the lictor and his men. Tell him that Rufus Caelius has been murdered.'

  The doorman nodded with relief at the command. This situation was beyond his ability to deal with. He reached up and pulled a torch from the wall. Beckoning to the others, Benignus went off at a trot.

  Fabiola watched with wide eyes, listening to the irate conversation. Such an attack was unheard of at the brothel and she felt a surge of pleasure at the thought. The equestrians had been arrogant in the extreme, especially the dead red-haired one. He had been very rough with her, almost to the point where she had to call for help. Caelius was no loss as far as Fabiola was concerned.

  She sensed movement behind her. Vettius stood in the doorway, weaving slightly.

  'You all right?'

  He nodded, a strange look in his eyes.

  'Vettius?'

  'Funny thing. The second one was your spitting image.'

  Fabiola's stomach turned over. Romulus! Joy surged through her at the realisation that her twin was alive. She muttered a swift prayer of thanks to Jupiter. Aware that she must give nothing away, Fabiola instantly spun back to see what the madam was doing. Jovina had an uncanny ability to hear the quietest whisper. Thankfully she was out of earshot, busy trying to placate the nobles.

  'Got sold to a gladiator school, didn't he?'

  She nodded, emotion welling up at the vivid memory.

  'Strong looking type too,' said the doorman, rubbing his nose and wincing. 'Tried to get me to join 'em.'

  Pride mixed with grief. Her brother had survived more than a year in the arena. He would be a man by now, with many victories under his belt. People might know who Romulus was at last. She would be able to find out which ludus he was in. 'Not a word about this,' she hissed, eyes flashing. 'Or his friend.'

  Vettius swallowed. 'Course not,' he said. 'But the others recognised the Gaul too.'

  Distraught, Fabiola stared into the darkness. The killing of a noble by a gladiator was an outrage and no effort would be spared to find the man responsible. The lictores would soon extract the same information from every witness. Legal evidence from slaves was inadmissible unless obtained by torture and the eunuchs Nepos and Tancinus would bleat like lambs. That meant returning to their school would provide no safety for Romulus and his companion. And even if the pair escaped from the city, they would still be fugitives from justice. Whatever small chance there had been of finding her brother was completely gone.

  Fabiola's spirits fell into the abyss.

  They could hear shutters opening above as people woken by the racket looked out.

  'What's going on?' a voice called.

  Ignoring the shout, they sprinted round a corner, on to a street that Romulus finally recognised.

  'Slow down,' the Gaul muttered, breathing heavily. 'Be no pursuit until reinforcements arrive.'

  Romulus had been thinking hard. 'Nobody back there knows us,' he said, smiling.

  'We are in deep shit.' Brennus seemed not to have heard. 'Nothing for it,' he muttered. 'We must flee. Right now.'

  Romulus was confused. 'Leave?'

  'Be crucified before sunset if we don't.' Brennus sounded unusually serious.

  'Why?'

  'The halfwit doorman recognised me! As a gladiator,' replied Brennus. 'How many Gauls my size are there in Rome?'

  Romulus felt his life slipping completely out of control. 'I only used the hilt of my sword,' he said faintly. 'I'm sorry.'

  'It is done.' There was sadness in Brennus' eyes, but his gaze did not waver. 'By dawn, there will be soldiers searching every school in the city. Find me and they have you. Our time in Rome is over.'

  Romulus heard the truth in his friend's words but did not want to believe it. There would be no slave rebellion. No meeting with Julia.

  There was silence before Brennus spoke again.

  'Those patrician bastards will kill us both very slowly while listening to our screams of innocence. Seen it too many times before. I'm not waiting for that.' He turned and strode towards the ludus.

  'Stop!' Romulus hissed. 'What are you going to do?'

  'Say goodbye to Astoria and pick up some weapons.' Brennus' teeth flashed white in the semi-darkness. He was exhilarated at the prospect of his journey beginning once again. 'Then I'm heading for Brundisium. Nobody will know me there and I can enlist in Crassus' army. Coming, brother?'

  Romulus hesitated, but for the briefest of moments. His one chance of survival was to stick with Brennus. He followed the Gaul through the early morning light to the Ludus Magnus, wondering if he would ever return. If he would ever see Julia again.

  Chapter XVIII: Flight

  Southern Italy, autumn 55 BC

  Abandoning their life in Rome on the spot, the friends crept out of the city's gates at dawn. They first passed south along the Via Appia, between the large tombs where the wealthy were buried. Few of the area's population of cut-price whores and thieves were awake to see them go by. Aware that their appearance would draw attention, they cut into the fields as soon as it was full light. Two heavily armed men who were not legionaries would mean bandits or runaway slaves to most citizens and so the whole journey was made across country, usually in the early mornings or late afternoons. Romulus and Brennus wanted to meet no one and avoided farmhouses and towns at all costs.

  A quick raid on the ludus' kitchen before leaving provided bread, cheese and vegetables to last several days. Brennus took his bow as well as other weapons, allowing him to hunt for deer and boar as they travelled. Both men carried leather water bags which they filled regularly from streams. The cold weather meant that sleeping rough each night was not easy, but huddling in blankets under rough shelters, the clear sky above them glittering with thousands of stars, was better than crucifixion.

  Latifundia, massive estates owned by the rich, dotted Campania and Apulia, the regions south of Rome. Romulus was amazed by the fields and hillsides covered in wheat, vines, olive and fruit trees. At night the groves supplied them with apples, plums and pears, juicy food that the young man had rarely tasted before. In daylight, impotent rage filled Romulus as he spied the countless miserable slaves working the farms, their ankles manacled together. Supervisors stood over each group, their whips ready to use at the slightest opportunity.

  Every estate was the same.

  Romulus quickly realised that the whole countr
y ran on slave labour. No wonder Rome was so wealthy, when tens of thousands of its subjects had to work for nothing. The two friends had endless debates as they marched, Romulus imagining that they had killed Memor and started a second slave rebellion instead of ruining it all by visiting Publius' tavern. He still had very mixed feelings about that night. Because they had gone out, he had met Julia. Although he knew it was only an infatuation, the thought of her still made his heart flutter. The feeling was mixed with guilt at what might have been. If they had refrained from going out, perhaps they would have been marching past those very latifundia by now, freeing the slaves instead of skulking past like animals.

  Brennus had not grasped the extent of the Republic's captive population before either, and was similarly outraged. On their journey he observed workers of every race and creed under the sun. Rome's appetite for slaves was insatiable, fed purely by war, and the annihilation of the Allobroges was obviously far from unique. To end up on Italian latifundia, those he saw must have suffered as he had done. It was abhorrent to him, but Brennus felt powerless to change things. He was no Spartacus. A warrior, yes. Not a general. He had been feeling guilty about not escaping the ludus sooner, but that was ebbing now. Maybe their rebellion would have succeeded. But more probably it wouldn't have. And how could Ultan's words have made any sense if he was fighting battles up and down the peninsula?

  A journey beyond where any Allobroge has gone. The phrase had become Brennus' mantra; everything else paled before it. It was only by seeing the druid's prophecy fulfilled that he could imagine justifying his decision to flee, rather than to defend, his village six years before.

  The two friends covered nearly three hundred miles in less than twenty days.

  There had been plenty of time to brood.

  Seeing the slave population had increased both men's desire to discard all memories of their own captivity. Romulus' and Brennus' brands were permanent evidence of their status and discovery once they were in the army would mean instant crucifixion. After a quick discussion, they agreed that there could only be one solution. Having found a suitable grove in the hills above Brundisium, Brennus had lit a fire and sharpened his dagger until it could shave a man. Encouraging Romulus to bite down on a piece of wood, he had heated the blade over the flames before removing the hated letters 'LM' with a few deft cuts. Blood ran down Romulus' arm in little lines and dripped to the ground. His eyes bulging in pain, he watched as the Gaul closed the wound using lengths of gut from an unravelled spare bowstring.