The Snake Catcher

by Bilinmeyen

  I smiled. “I will let him investigate everything and anything he likes. I will look to Julia. But, Antius is my personal enemy, and if I can find anything about him, I will.” I looked at him. “I go alone this evening.”

  Gernot looked around and spoke softly. “Fine. And be careful with Kleitos. He was more than jealous. He was afraid.”

  Afraid. That was right. He had been afraid.

  Of what, exactly, I had yet to discover.

  CHAPTER 7

  We weren’t out of shape. We were burdened by old wounds, but all our life, we had run through the woods of the Black Forest, chasing after imaginary and real enemies, hunting for anything on four legs. We had just ridden from the heights of Germania to Rome.

  Yet, by noon, even Brimwulf was shaking with fatigue. Hundred men from all of the turma had been running in full armor under the watchful eyes of Kleitos, who sat near the bridge to the Block, shaded by a canopy of white linen. Maximus and two other Decurions had us run west along the Tiber, then south through the Vada Tarenti Ford and east again on the other bank. The fine black leather caligae were chafing uncomfortably. The swampy ground gave a fight with each step, and our feet pumped desperately as we ran.

  The heat was what got us.

  The old hands had oiled their skin, had well-worn caligae, and carried water in a leather flask. We had no flask, new caligae, and our skins were unprotected, and we suffered. Agetan and Bohscyld were grunting, Wandal was huffing and panting like a wounded moose, and Tudrus was red as a butchered cow. Rochus, once again, looked happy and pristine, and I cursed the brother of Armin for the ease he seemed to navigate through the life.

  During the jog, I noticed men cast long, angry looks at me. There were jealous looks, covetous, and a huge man actually shoved me aside, while casting a challenging gaze my way. He was chuckling with a tall, red-haired man. Their accents were familiar.

  “Ubii,” Wandal grunted. “That Prefect’s been shit mouthing, eh?”

  “The Prefect’s a problem,” I allowed. “That one big bastard is clearly preparing for bigger trouble,” I muttered and gestured to the large man, now chortling with another friend. “We’ll need to figure out what Kleitos is about. At least we cannot let him stop us from performing our duty.”

  “Mean bastard,” Tudrus was panting. “The big one. The Prefect’s a hare’s ass.”

  “He’s a hare with fangs,” Rochus said. “Best leave him alone.”

  After a long morning, the torture was over.

  We had plenty of sunburns, aches, lacerations, and, in the end, we lost dignity, as the turma witnessed the citizen run with vomit pouring out of his mouth. Maximus grinned at that, and I was sure he’d write to Chariovalda how he had managed to humiliate me.

  On the other hand, the man I expected to enjoy my discomfort the most, didn’t react.

  Kleitos’s eyes didn’t so much as squint at the sight of my vomit spattered tunic, his face didn’t twitch, and his eyes bore on me, then the Batavi of the third and the fourth turmae.

  I thought Gernot and I were right.

  He was afraid of me, not merely jealous, and worried about his position. The displacement of his power was more than an insult. It was a crimp in his plans, whatever they were.

  We were dismissed.

  We got to the baths, where the soothing warm water, then the invigorating cold was enough to revitalize us. It was a haven after all the pains we had endured, and even Agetan and Bohscyld smiled after a sturdy pair of slaves massaged their legs. I had had my first experience with Roman baths in Moganticum, under Drusus’s stern order, and I had no doubt my friends would learn to love them as well, though we had all used the sad ones in Castra Flamma. We ate focaccia, honey, olives, and watered wine. Tudrus nearly chipped a tooth on an olive stone.

  In the afternoon, we practiced with spears. We threw pila for hours in the Campus Martius, and Maximus couldn’t have been happier with our skills. It was the skill in swordplay that would be lacking for my friends.

  In the evening, after a heavy meal of meats, cakes, and wine, I went to Adalwulf. I told him I’d be leaving, he told me to meet him at the gate, and I went to find Rochus. I pulled him aside. He took a long breath and rolled his eyes as he spoke with me with a pleading voice. “Look, I don’t think it’s a good idea. I know you want to ask him about Antius, and don’t really give rat’s ass about me meeting him. Best stay here, and let Adalwulf deal with these things, eh? He seems capable.” He grinned at my hurt look. “Yes, I know you get things done, but wouldn’t you like to get settled in Rome before you start breaking the rules?”

  I shrugged. “Not breaking any rules. I wish to see Palatine.”

  “It’s dark,” he said.

  I pushed him towards the door. “You don’t wish to speak with your brother?”

  He shook his head. “About what? How he is serving Rome? I have no doubt he will be upset. He’ll blame me for losing Thusnelda, and for all the deaths and the lost Cherusci families.”

  “Then say you are sorry, eh?”

  He cursed. “Fine. I’ll have a sad little chat to amuse you, and then you’ll take over.” He looked resigned. “I’ll try to keep my head clear and focused, but I make no promises.”

  We got ready and found Adalwulf. He was speaking with two men at the gate. One was a young, short boy with freckles, and a Germani guard, a stout man with thick lips and only one ear. Adalwulf noticed us coming. “So, how did you enjoy the day?”

  “Our feet will bleed for days,” I answered sullenly.

  “A soldier’s day, sounds like,” he said with an infuriating smile. He thumbed towards a young boy who smiled up at us. He reminded me of Felix. “Eyes here,” he said, and clapped a hand on the boy’s shoulder, “will show you the way.” Then he nodded at the other man. “Grim will make sure you won’t get stabbed, if Eyes gets lost. He’s of the second turma. He’s got—”

  “I’ve got some business on the hill,” he said with a brooding voice. “So you’ll wait for me, if I’m not back. Don’t walk anywhere alone.”

  “Fine,” I answered.

  He nodded curtly. I guessed his name was apt, and he rarely smiled. I whispered to Rochus, “He’d get along famously with Agetan and Bohscyld.”

  Adalwulf pulled us along. “Now, be careful. The funeral’s early tomorrow, so don’t get into trouble. Leave all your coin here.”

  “I don’t have any,” I answered. Gernot had it all.

  Eyes nodded, and indicated to the gates as he skipped out of the crack.

  We followed. Rochus looked back at Grim, who was walking ten steps behind. “You think he thinks he’s herding us?” he asked, as we took a road we had travelled the day before. “He looks like he has a brand on our skins.”

  “I wonder what business a man like that might have on the hill,” I grumbled. “Probably going to break someone’s legs. Hey, Eyes.”

  “Sir?” he grinned.

  “Where are you from?” I asked him.

  “Rome, why?” he answered, looking like a fool, his jaw hanging open. I decided he wasn’t much like Felix after all. Felix had been canny as a fox.

  “Were you born in Rome?” I scowled.

  “Ah! No. In Hippo Regius,” he said. “In Africa. I’ve been to Alexandria, Caesarea, Athens! They captured me from my father in Greece and sold me to slavery. From a citizen into a slave.”

  Rochus frowned. “They can do that?”

  “Oh, yes!” he chortled. “One day free, next day a slave. Never mind me. I don’t even remember my parents. But, sure, there are plenty of slaves who should be free men. Some were even Roman to begin with. Here. This way.”

  He guided us across the Campus Martius, towards the shaded Mausoleum of Augustus, and we traversed a wide, well-built road right for Rome. “Via Flaminia. Will take us right to the forum and past Capitolium. Should be quiet this late.”

  “Right,” I said, looking around nervously at the looming buildings.

  The insulae began to
spring up, rows of porticoes ran on each side of the road. Smaller streets and alleys gaped at us darkly, and light shone only in a very few places. There was a party walking an alley, and torches fluttered. Someone, a woman, was laughing wildly inside an insulae’s bottom apartment, and a horde of dangerous looking dogs slunk with us, until Grim growled and threw a stone at one. It yelped and ran off, barking like mad thing from Helheim. The rest followed it.

  We saw none of the sights of Rome in the dark, and reached the wall. Eyes passed the gate without a word, and we stepped after him. The nightly trip was not unlike walking in the spirit-haunted wood of the Black Forest. It was strange and discomforting, and the noises made us jump. We passed fabulous statues, marble and stone laden temples, and buildings both magnificent and ugly. “Forums of Augustus and Julia.” Eyes grinned, and to our left, we saw a colonnaded clear square. The darkness hid the other end. The empty space in the middle of the Forum Julia looked comforting and serene.

  Rochus grunted. He was staring up the rather steep hillside to our right, where Capitolium rose to majestic height. “We’ll see them better tomorrow,” he grumbled.

  “They’ve defended that hill many times in the past,” Eyes said cheerfully, enjoying his role as a guide. “But, look, down there.”

  We were descending for what I was sure was the most important forum of Roman world. It was the heart of Rome, and riddled with temples and statues as old as the city itself. Great triumphal arches could be seen in the light of torches and cauldrons, and, even at that time, there were people walking the wooded roads between the massive temples, draped in cloaks.

  “Via Sacra,” Eyes said, as we took a road that led us between the jumble of the tallest pillars and colonnades I had seen. “Curia,” he winked and pointed at a simple building to our left. “The Senate.”

  “Don’t look like much,” Rochus said. “The temples do.”

  They were mighty as jotuns, richly decorated with precious marble, statues crafted with supreme skill, details all over. Ancient trees swayed here and there before them, and we passed a wide platform on arches, facing the wide space between the temples. “That there is the Rostra Nova,” Eyes said. “Used to be an older one facing the Senate, but old Augustus moved it.”

  We passed the platform, and saw what was placed in front of the Rostra. Before the platform, there were what I was sure were Pretorian guards and the corpse of Drusus on a dais, his body draped in a toga. He was facing the open space of forum, and some people were there to look at him, speaking softly.

  I stopped Eyes as I stared at Drusus

  Eyes was nodding, trying to find a hint as to why I had stopped. “The Rostra. They’ll speak there tomorrow,” he said. “The mighty man lies there in state for a day. People are still coming to see him, risking the night, even. Via Sacra and the whole Forum will be flooded with people.”

  “I see,” I said.

  “Move on,” Grim said, and pushed me.

  I nearly fell, spinning in fury, and even Rochus stared at him in shock.

  I glowered and pushed him back so hard he stumbled on a rock and fell on his ass on a pool of shitty water. I stared at him with malice as he got up, cursing softly. His eyes flashed, and he grabbed his sword’s hilt. Rochus grabbed his, and I nodded at Grim. “Put your hand in me one more time, you shit licking bastard, and I’ll break your grim jaw. I’m not one you wipe your shit on.”

  Grim glowered at me. His teeth grated together, and his deep-set eyes flashed. “You are a pup from some wooded muddy hill, a troll of the old gods. And you would break my jaw? Bah!”

  “It speaks,” Rochus noted. “What do you wish to do, Grim? Test the troll?” He took a step towards the man. “I’m a noble of the Cherusci, a family older than yours, I bet. I—”

  I stopped him and stepped forward. “Yea, I lived in a smoky hall and shared my house with cows. What are you, I wonder? Were you any different? Are the Batavi any better than I? I think not.”

  “I’m not a Batavi,” he muttered as he flexed his fingers.

  Not a Batavi? Ubii? “It matters not.” I nodded at his blade. “Draw it, you damned fuck, and I’ll do what I promised. I’ve killed tougher men. And mayhap women.”

  He shook his head darkly, trying to digest my words. They went down hard, very hard, and then, he let go of the sword. I stared at him for a moment longer, and Rochus relaxed even slower. Eyes appeared, having bolted away behind a tree. The praetorians guarding Drusus also turned away, whispering amongst themselves. I gave one last look at Drusus and turned away. “Lead on.”

  Grim nodded, his eyes flashing.

  We traversed the road through the Forum, past Capitolium Hill, and past the gigantic Basilica of Julia. We gazed at the square temple of Julius Caesar, the Temple of Castor and Pollux, and the ancient Shrine of the Vestals, where the fire burned on under the care of the virgins. We went past the house of the Vestals, and took the Via Nova, finally climbing a stairway up Palatine.

  Rochus was whistling merrily, but I was staring at the fig and olive trees, which the wind was ruffling mournfully. I knew Cassia was likely somewhere on the hill, and I both cursed and missed her. We climbed and entered a portico guarded by praetorians. We passed through alleys, dodged into a sweet smelling garden, and went past official looking buildings and row of well-built houses. A harp was being played somewhere.

  Eyes looked lost for a moment and grinned at us. “The Princeps had this whole area built into a city block. Used to be gardens more than walls. Did it well. He likes order, he does. Constructed from nothing but the best materials. Most of the highest and oldest families live on the hill, when not in the countryside. It’s sort of a tradition. But, the temples, the library, and the houses of his personal family are all in the southwest part of the hill. Ah! Here, come. Look.” He had spotted a familiar fountain and led us there, gesturing to the right.

  We gawked at a roofed portico. Dozens of statues, most made of marble, showed up in the light of lit braziers. The portico emerged from a maze of buildings. “Behind that area, the Guard serves,” he said and winked. “This way to the house of hostages,” he chortled and turned away. “I’m not lost anymore.”

  We moved after him. After some time, we came to a building that looked like a temple, but was likely a former one. Outside, praetorians stood with their spears, and a watch officer walked from the colonnades, his eyes rheumy with fatigue. Eyes smiled and ran up to greet him. He whispered, and gave the man some instructions. The officer scowled at us, hesitated, and eventually waved us up. Grim shook his head.

  “I’ll meet you here,” he said darkly. “Don’t go anywhere without me. Right here, you understand?”

  I ignored him, and heard him scoff as Rochus and I walked inside. Eyes sat down outside, picking his ear with his little finger. Inside, a hall of marble opened up. It was a bit cold, even when a brazier was burning in the middle. A praetorian stood to the side, and around the room, there were benches, with carved animal heads as legs. I pulled Rochus with me, and we sat down on a pillowed bench in the shadows.

  We waited.

  Armin. Had he changed?

  He had always looked like a god, golden and perfect. Was he humbled?

  After a long while, there were steps.

  A figure leaned on a doorway, still tall, still blond, and a beautiful creature of old. It was the God Face, as Felix had called him.

  Armin the Cherusci.

  Rochus rose up stiffly. Armin turned and saw him. He took long steps forward, in no hurry. He wore a gray Roman tunic, and shoes of white. He had no pants. He looked Roman, with a shaved chin and cropped hair. “He’s adjusting pretty fast, eh?” Rochus said, as he winked at me. “I’ve got little to say to him, as I said. Then, he’s all yours.” Armin approached, and Rochus walked forward. His handsome face and wide jaw were rigid as he saw his brother. They stopped near the brazier, and Rochus spoke with him. Armin didn’t answer. He had spoken kindly with me after he was captured, but now, he was cold as ice an
d silent as a statue

  Rochus had fought for him, fought well, nearly won the battle against Drusus, before we stopped him. That day, I had nearly killed Rochus.

  Then, later, Rochus had left Armin for Rome.

  One was a willing mercenary, the other a prisoner.

  Rochus stopped speaking. Armin, his eyes on me, whispered something to his brother, who stiffened, and walked away. His face was a mask of stormy rage, and his steps clipped on the stone floor.

  Armin watched him go with a cruel smile. I waited, and scrubbed my palms together. We had a long history already. A heavy one. Both had cheated, lied, and used the other. Both had helped each other as well. He had saved me; I had saved his father, Sigimer. He stopped before me and didn’t move. I looked up at him. “You expecting I kiss your cock, Armin? It’s past time I’d do that.”

  He snorted and sat down next to me. “You’ve turned coarse, Hraban. You sure Rome is treating you well?”

  “You seem to prosper,” I said with some criticism. “Shaved like a Roman soldier. Aren’t you supposed to suffer in a hole somewhere?”

  He chortled. “After everything I did to kill the lot, they are making me a Roman. They will train us all to be soldiers. Imagine. Are they mad?”

  I nodded and laughed. “I agree they are fools to do so. Or perhaps they know what they are doing. If you ever fight them again, you won’t be as surprising. They know you’ll march at them in a triple axis.”

  He shook his head. “No, I’ll hide that part of myself deep. I’ll keep it hidden in my heart, and learn and slave on. I’ll take the best parts of their training, and meld them with what I was. I’ll be surprising still.” He gazed at me. “And here you are. Serving the same state, a soldier, like I am. Finally, on the same side, eh?”

  I nodded. “I’m a Guard, not a soldier. You serve with the praetorians?”

  “A hostage and a praetorian,” he agreed. “There are many hostages here. All noble boys. Perhaps I should try to make it so Rochus is hauled in here as well so I can torment him for the betrayal.”