Rome: Sword of the Legion (Sword of the Legion Series)

by R. Cameron Cooke

  “You whelp of a whore!” Lucius said to the Alexandrian officer who was peering at him over the ranks.

  “It is on your head, Centurion!” the officer said curtly. “I gave you a chance to drop your sword. You alone have chosen this path of foolishness! But it does not have to be so with you. Now, drop your sword.”

  Lucius laughed. “You think me mad? I will not. Finish your work, but know that I will send some of these curs to the afterlife before it is done!”

  The officer appeared extremely annoyed by the remark. “I said drop your sword!”

  “Why should he yield his sword, Demetrius? Let him keep it.” This was said by another, someone Lucius could not see. The high-pitched, nasally voice had come from the other side of the ranks.

  “Remove them that I may see this Roman,” the voice commanded. It had a tone of condescension to it.

  The officer – evidently his name was Demetrius – nodded resentfully, and then gave an order. The line of pikes opened before Lucius to reveal an unarmed man, slightly built and bald-headed. The unimpressive figure exuded anything but the deportment of a warrior. He looked more like an administrator, but the Alexandrian troops lowered their heads as he passed by. His immaculate white tunic, trimmed with glimmering gold and jewels, bulged slightly at the belly. Like the officer, his eyes were painted in the Egyptian style, but they did not change shape in the slightest measure when he smiled at Lucius. They seemed never to blink.

  As the man approached, he was flanked by the officer and another Alexandrian both with swords drawn, clearly to protect the unarmed administrator should the crazed Roman suddenly attack. Stopping several paces away, the administrator smiled cordially at Lucius, waving a hand in the air. After an awkward silence, the administrator finally shot an irritated glance at the officer.

  “Ahem. Presenting His Excellency, Ganymedes, Chancellor of Egypt, Royal Council to the Queen Arsinoe, the one and rightful ruler of the Two Lands,” the officer recited dryly.

  Lucius said nothing but silently considered whether he had the strength to kill all three of them in a single leaping sweep of his blade.

  After realizing that the Roman was not about to bow, the bald man said, “And who are you, Roman?”

  “Lucius Domitius, centurion of the Tenth Legion.”

  “The Tenth? Please, do not bore me with tricks, Centurion. My agents inform me that Caesar has but two legions in Alexandria, and those are the Sixth and the Twenty-Eighth.”

  When Lucius did not respond, Ganymedes went on. “But no matter. And you were born in Italy, were you?”

  “Spain,” Lucius replied.

  “Even better.” Ganymedes smiled. “And I suppose you are wondering why we are so interested in keeping you alive.”

  “I am not,” Lucius replied, kicking one of the freshly severed heads at his feet. “The Egyptian lust for torture is well known.”

  “No less than the Roman’s. But, dear me, that has nothing to do with it. Do you not realize, Roman, that I have a hundred slaves at my disposal, day and night? I could have any one of them thrown to the crocodiles with a snap of my fingers – were I as blood-thirsty as you assume.” Ganymedes’s eyes wandered to the crimson-stained gladius gripped firmly in Lucius’s hand, and then quickly shot back to his face. At any other time, I would not hesitate to have you flayed alive and your skin hung from the wall, but there is a time for everything. For now, you have been, shall we say, chosen.”

  “Chosen by who?”

  “You have demonstrated remarkable skill with the sword, Centurion. Your bravery is unquestionable. Clearly, you are a warrior without equals, and only the greatest of warriors can stand up to the quest that lies before you.”

  “What quest?” Lucius said abruptly.

  Ganymedes eyed him thoughtfully, and then said, “Not here. There are too many ears. You must come with me, Centurion, if you want answers – if you want to live. I assure you, it will be lucrative for you – that is, if you have a penchant for gold. The alternative is to remain here and die under the spear. I am sure Demetrius will be more than happy to accommodate you.” Ganymedes cast a glance at the Alexandrian officer, who surprisingly appeared anything but eager to carry out such an order.

  So they both had a stake in this quest, whatever it was, thought Lucius. As much as he wanted to bury his sword to the hilt in Demetrius’s throat, he was intrigued. Lucius could not imagine why these Alexandrians wished to keep him alive, and he wanted to know more. That and the prospect of gold, his entire reason for joining the Roman expedition in the first place, was quickly driving the battle rage from him. Perhaps, if he cooperated, and this was not some elaborate ruse, there would be time and opportunity for taking care of Demetrius later.

  Ganymedes sighed impatiently, tapping one foot and looking at the sun. “I do not have all day, Centurion. So, make your choice. But I warn you, this is my final offer.”

  IV

  Lucius sat on a bench in the open courtyard of a large and ornate house, shoving handful after handful of olives and grapes into his mouth while the silent slave girl stood by holding the platter of food. The courtyard was entirely encircled by the house, much like a Roman house, and he could see the clear blue sky through the skylight above him. The house was large enough to be a palace, but it was not anywhere near the palace complex, as far as he could tell, judging from the many twists and turns through the city’s backstreets and alleyways that he had been led through to get here.

  Now, he hardly resembled the blood-covered warrior that had been fighting on the mole only yesterday. His clothes and armor were gone, removed by a contingent of curvy, black-haired slave girls in sheer white gowns. They had bathed him in waters that smelled of lotus petals, the touch of their silky skin and nudging breasts against his aching body awakening a lust in him that had lain dormant through weeks of siege and fighting. But his advances had all been spurned. The girls simply smiled with their lips and continued rubbing him down. Evidently their orders only went so far.

  After withstanding an equally arousing oil rubdown by delicate hands, he now lounged on a padded bench while filling his aching belly.

  He was just beginning to wonder if he had really been killed out on the mole and had somehow entered the afterlife, when a door opened and Demetrius entered the courtyard.

  His expression was not altogether happy, but not unpleasant either.

  “I see that you have been well cared for,” he said, cordially. “You see? I keep my word.”

  “You did not keep your word when my men surrendered.”

  “You will find, Centurion, that in this part of the world you must listen carefully to anyone making you an offer. I had extended the assurance of safety only to you. Your men wrongly assumed that their lives, too, would be spared.”

  “I’ll admit they were fools.” Lucius eyed him while fingering the hilt of the blood-stained gladius that lay beside him on the bench. He had refused to let the girls take it from him. “But they were Romans, Egyptian. And they were my men. I will repay you someday. Mark you me.”

  Demetrius smiled. “Yes. Well, that brings to mind a point that I am afraid I must insist on.”

  “And that is?”

  “You must relinquish your sword.”

  “Now who’s going back on his word?”

  “It is nothing to concern yourself with. Would we have taken the pains to bathe and feed you had we planned to harm you in any way? I simply cannot allow an armed Roman to be in the presence of Her Majesty, the queen. You understand.”

  “Queen?”

  Demetrius appeared somewhat uncomfortable when he assumed the droning tone, “The all-powerful Queen Arsinoe, ruler of the Two – “

  “Alright, alright. I’ve heard all of that before. But I didn’t realize the Alexandrians had a queen. I understood the old king died and now his whelps are squabbling for the thro –”

  “Her Majesty is coming here to meet with you,” Demetrius curtly interrupted him.

  “The
queen comes to me?” Lucius chuckled mockingly. “I’m honored.”

  “Don’t be. This is Her Majesty’s house. You are a guest of Ganymedes. It is at his prompting that my queen comes.”

  “The queen takes her orders from the eunuch then?”

  Demetrius shot a baneful look at him, and Lucius detected an aspect of contention in the Alexandrian officer’s expression. The dark-eyes actually looked pained more than they did angry, as if there was some truth to what Lucius had said.

  “Now, Centurion,” Demetrius said, after regaining his cordiality and extending a hand. “Your sword, please. You have no need of it here, I assure you. You are quite safe.”

  “I’ve heard of your queen, and this Ganymedes character. They stand much to gain if Caesar and Cleopatra are defeated. Your people will accept them as their new rulers, is that right?”

  “Your point?”

  “The point is, I think that before long, you and that Ganymedes are going to ask me to betray my comrades.” Lucius smirked, while placing the gladius in Demetrius’s hand. “When I refuse, I suspect I might need that again.”

  Demetrius smiled, but said nothing. He handed the weapon to one of the slave girls who padded away with it on bare feet.

  “Cover him,” Demetrius commanded abruptly to another pair of girls, who quickly produced a silky white sheet and draped it over Lucius’s bare loins.

  The next moment, the doors were thrown open by two brawny, black-skinned guards cradling immense, flat-bladed swords.

  “All hail Her Majesty Queen Arsinoe!” one of the guards boomed.

  The entire courtyard assumed a bowed position, with heads held low between outstretched arms. Demetrius angrily motioned for Lucius to do the same, but Lucius refused mirthfully.

  A small woman in a wispy flowing white dress entered the room. Her face was stoic, making her delicate features all the more alluring. She had skin as pure as jasmine, and her shoulder-length black hair was woven with gold flakes. A wide gold band high around her slim waist accentuated her rounded hips. The dress was open down the front revealing the inner curves of what appeared to be nearly perfect breasts.

  Lucius guessed her to be no more than twenty years old, and he caught the double-take of her young, wide eyes when she noticed that he was not bowing like the others. For the briefest of moments, her eyes drifted to his bare chest and lower regions, before she pretended not to notice him at all and quickly resumed the deportment of a royal princess.

  She was followed into the room by Ganymedes and an assortment of attending girls dressed in a similar fashion to herself, one of them oddly pulling a cheetah along on a leash like a pet. There was someone else, too, with the royal party – a strange-looking man dressed in a black wrap, gold armbands, and a headdress that completely covered his face. The headdress had the face of a falcon with fierce eyes that stared wildly ahead. This priest – if that’s what he was – stood a few paces behind the queen with hands clasped in front of him.

  An attendant clapped twice, and everyone returned to what they had been doing before.

  “Ganymedes,” said Arsinoe in a strong voice that did not match her lithe figure. “Why does this Roman not bow before my greatness?”

  In an instant the eunuch was at her side. “Er-uh. Take no offense, Great One. These Romans are largely an uneducated lot. They have little understanding of the gods that walk among us, like your greatness.”

  “So, you bring me an illiterate oaf to perform this most sacred of tasks?”

  “Please, Great One,” Ganymedes pleaded reverently. “If we needed wisdom, we would need only to consult your greatness. But this errand calls for a great warrior, and that is what I have brought you. This Roman slew several score of our soldiers on the mole yesterday. He is a Roman centurion, one of Caesar’s finest, with many badges of honor from many battles.”

  Lucius considered that the slick-tongued eunuch had no doubt seen the half-dozen circular emblems that ornamented the front of his mail shirt.

  “Does he meet the requirements? Is his blood pure?”

  “I believe he does, your greatness.” Ganymedes then gestured to the priest with the bird headdress. “But only Khay can tell us for certain.”

  Arsinoe then turned to the priest. “Khay, these are your requirements. Does this Roman qualify?”

  The priest Khay said nothing, but simply clapped his hands together once and then rapidly advanced across the room toward Lucius. He swung his arms wildly as he walked, and the attendants, evidently fearful of the eccentric priest, cleared a wide path for him as he came.

  Once in front of Lucius, Khay began sniffing audibly through the mask, moving around Lucius from one side to the other in spasmodic motions. Once the smelling ritual had concluded, a cross-like metallic rod suddenly appeared in the priest’s hands. The cross was half the length of a man’s arm with a loop on one end. Khay held the cross from the looped end allowing Lucius to see that the opposite end had a sharp point. Then, without warning, the priest drew the point straight across Lucius’s chest from one side to the other, leaving a dark streak of dripping blood to mark its path. Lucius winced from the suddenness of the attack, one of his large hands shooting out to take the priest by the throat. Khay instantly dropped the blood-tipped cross and began desperately groping at Lucius’s rock-solid grip that was quickly squeezing the life out of him. For a few moments the courtyard was silent, save for the suffocating priest’s labored breathing, clearly audible through the bird mask. No one came to Khay’s aid. Instead, they all stood dumb-founded and in shock as the formerly menacing priest gasped for air and went to his knees under the Roman’s grip, all except for Demetrius, who appeared somewhat amused at the spectacle.

  That is, until a look from Ganymedes prompted him to intervene.

  “Release him, Centurion.” Demetrius stepped forward and placed a hand on Lucius’s immense flexing forearm. “The letting of blood is part of the ritual. Khay will not harm you.”

  Lucius glanced at the queen, whose wide-eyed expression appeared to be brought on by astonishment more than anger. Then, he let Khay go. The priest fell to the floor coughing and wheezing as the air returned to his lungs.

  “Captain Demetrius!” Ganymedes said tersely. “We will hold you responsible if this Roman gets out of hand again. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, Councilor,” Demetrius replied with a bow, his face now flushed.

  Lucius saw Demetrius and Arsinoe exchange a private look that spoke of a deeper history between them than just captain of the royal guard and queen. Again, the glimmer of resentment, or was it jealousy, appeared subtly in the officer’s visage.

  After several awkward moments of silence, Khay had regained his feet and had adjusted the crooked bird headdress. Once again, the priest had the cross in his hand. He lifted the headdress slightly, exposing only his mouth, and then ran the point of the cross across his tongue, allowing Lucius’s fresh blood to mingle with the saliva there. Khay then rolled the mixture around in his mouth while reciting an incantation, Ganymedes and Arsinoe both looking on with nervous anticipation.

  Finally, the priest raised his hands and said something in the Egyptian tongue. He then repeated the words in Greek, and the room breathed a collective sigh of relief.

  “He is, Great Lady!” Ganymedes said with delight. “He is a pure heathen! Not one drop of Egyptian blood flows in his veins. He is perfect!”

  “Bring him before me,” the young queen commanded.

  When Lucius stood before her, his chest even with her face, he caught a glance from her big eyes.

  “You will swear loyalty to me, at once, Roman, and denounce my sister and brother! You will also worship me as your god. On your knees!”

  “I will not,” Lucius replied.

  “Demetrius!” she said hotly, “Teach this Roman how to show respect!”

  But before Demetrius made any move to obey, Ganymedes interceded. “Wait! Great Lady, your greatness should not be concerned with such trivialities.
We have the prophecy fulfilled, and that is all we need. Let this foolish Roman serve who he wishes, as long as he performs what we demand of him. Men like him do not respond to torture. They respond only to gold, and I have promised an ample sum if he cooperates.”

  “But I want him to worship me as his goddess! All men are to worship me!”

  Lucius laughed. “You are many things, lass. Perhaps an impudent child, but you are not a goddess.”

  The room gasped, and Demetrius cleared his throat as if to warn Lucius that he should keep quiet and play along. Ganymedes held a finger to his lips as if to silence Lucius but the words were out and Arsinoe was now staring back at him, utterly speechless from the insult. At first, her eyes narrowed in an evil glare as if her next words would have him beheaded on the spot. But then Lucius saw her check herself. She had worked herself into a corner and she knew it. Obviously, she needed him for something, and so could not order him put to death, but she also had to save face for the sake of her followers in the room.

  “Of course,” she said in a tone more amiable. “You Romans have your own gods, don’t you? You are not endowed with the ability to recognize the greater gods of Egypt.”

  “Some believe in them. Some don’t. Some perform the rituals. Some pay them no mind.”

  “And what do you believe, Roman?”

  “I’ve been from one end of the world to the other. I’ve seen the so-called gods of a hundred different peoples demand more of them than they could give. I’ve seen men go to their graves for their gods, sacrifice their young, their virgins, the food from their tables.”

  “I did not ask of other men, Roman. I asked what you believe.”

  “I have seen too many things not to believe in a god. For all of its chaos, there is a balance to the universe, an order that cannot be explained, that cannot be seen, except from a heavenly eye. If there is a god, then there is only one, and he rules all. We mortals wander in and out of the balance that he sustains.”

  Arsinoe glanced at Ganymedes as if to question his earlier assertion that Lucius was a fool. And then, a transformation took place. A poisonously teasing look appeared on Arsinoe’s face. She cast a glance at Demetrius, and then her lips curled and she began to walk around Lucius, running her manicured nails lightly across his muscled chest and back.