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

by R. Cameron Cooke

  “Do you believe him to be the one you seek, my lady?”

  Calpurnia looked at her for a long moment. “Yes. In my heart, I do.”

  “Then this murder of your father gives you yet another reason to destroy him. The gods demand nothing less. The pig is well protected by those two bodyguards of his, and his aide, but I know I can get to him. Give me the word, my lady, and I will bury my dagger in his heart before the sun sets again.”

  “No, Marjanita. Not yet. We must have proof. We must know for certain. Anything less and I will carry the doubt with me to my grave.”

  XIV

  Later that night, Calpurnia bedded down in her father's cot. Marjanita had wished to remain in the chamber with her, fearing more sinister intentions by the senator and his cohorts, but Calpurnia wished to be alone and ordered the overprotective handmaid to sleep in the antechamber just beyond the screen.

  It was a peaceful moment after a long day that had begun with her father’s funeral and had ended with the raucous dinner. The wind whipped the flap drawn across the window. The toll of the distant ships' bells signaled the changing of the night watch. Feet padded dully on the deck outside. Sailors, crowded around fires, conversed in muffled voices. All of these things, with the gentle roll of the harbor swell, sent her into a deep sleep. She dreamed of the days when she was but a girl, and her father was rising in the cursus honorum. She played with her brothers, Drusus and Quintus, on the grounds of the family's country villa just outside of Rome. There was much laughing. Smiles crossed the faces of her parents as they watched from the veranda, smiles she had not seen in many years. Then, they were playing a game of hide-and-go-seek. Drusus and Quintus were hiding from her. She searched the grounds, inspecting every nook of the house, behind every cypress tree, behind every column, but she could not find them. As she continued to search, she began to realize that she was completely alone. Her parents were gone from the veranda, and no one was around – no slaves, no attendants, no one! She went into the house, but it, too, was deserted. Then, suddenly, the house began to crumble before her eyes, as if rocked by an earthquake. It shook and dissolved around her, and she felt as though she would be crushed at any moment. But then, a giant arm suddenly scooped her up, and carried her outside to safety. Soon, the house was nothing more than heaps of brick and shattered columns. As the dust settled, she saw a solitary figure standing amidst the ruins in a shaft of sunlight. It was not her father, or her brothers, but she somehow knew this was the man who had saved her. He was a warrior unlike any she had ever seen at that point in her young life, a horseman of the east, squat and compact, built with powerful, long arms in which he held a strung bow with exquisite, recurved tips. His windblown, shoulder-length hair brushed past his eyes as he looked down upon her. The eyes were not hateful, nor compassionate, but were somehow all-knowing, and she felt as though the mysterious warrior understood every emotion she was feeling at that moment, like no one in her life ever had.

  It was a dream she had had many times before, and from which she always awoke most disturbed. She woke now, breathing heavily as she collected her bearings. It took her a few moments to remember where she was. The dark room was suddenly much colder, and she realized that the leather flap that had been secured across the window now flailed freely in the wind allowing a faint shaft of moonlight to filter through. She froze and listened intently. She could hear the quiet voices of two sailors chatting casually outside. She heard another man relieving himself into the harbor, but nothing was out of the ordinary. Not moving from the bed, she began to scan the room, methodically identifying every object. The table, the chests, the brace of armor, the cage – all were in their proper places, but something was not right. She was overwhelmed by the sudden feeling that there was another presence in the room, and that it had been this unseen presence, not the violent end of her dream, that had awoken her.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something move – a shadow that quickly merged with other shadows. Her ears detected a noise that she had earlier dismissed as the wind, a labored breathing, as though the air was being drawn through a collapsed lung. It was faint, but it was there, and her body went icy still with fright.

  Could it be her handmaid? No, Marjanita knew better than to disturb her unannounced. Perhaps it was an assassin, sent by Postumus. Or, perhaps the evil spirit that had tormented her father's soul still lingered in this room.

  She waited for what seemed an eternity, and had almost convinced herself that her imagination was getting the best of her, when the shadow suddenly moved again. A putrid aroma filled her nostrils as she came to the realization that this was not some apparition. The outline of a hair-covered beast took shape before her bed. A single, wild eye illuminated by the moonlight looked directly into hers. She started to scream, but the creature flashed into motion, bounding the few paces that separated them before she could get out any more than a muffled cry. In an instant, her mouth was compressed by a giant, leathery hand, the foul-smelling fingers and calloused palm preventing her from making any further sounds. Then the creature’s terrifying features were suddenly before her face. The loose withered skin of an empty eye socket, the black and yellow teeth protruding at an odd angle from the small mouth, the flat nose speckled with wiry black hairs, hovered above her for several long moments like something summoned from her deepest nightmares, and though she recognized the face and knew full well this was no demon nor a dream, her heart still pounded with terror. The one wild eye stared into hers. There was an intelligence in that eye, an understanding and awareness that seemed out of place when taken with the other frightening features. The look stirred a memory from years past, a memory that made her want to stop resisting, but her instincts told her she was in danger, that the same hands that restrained her now had killed before, and that no matter how searching and pleading the solitary eye might appear, she must resist it with all of her might.

  The strength had quite left her limbs, but still she struggled to break free. She knew that her assailant’s genitals had been long removed, but a swift thrust of her knee to that region still made him loosen his grip long enough for her to tear her mouth free and let out a cry for help.

  She fully expected to be struck for that act of defiance, but the blow never came. Instead, she felt the weight removed from her cot, and heard her attacker thump off across the room as an ape uses its long arms to drag its body behind it.

  There were voices outside. Men were rushing to her aid. She tried to discern her attacker’s shadow from the others in the room, but she had quite lost sight of it. Nothing moved. All was it had been before when Marjanita burst into the room with her long dagger in her hand, followed soon after by two marine guards bearing lanterns and drawn swords.

  "Are you injured, my lady?" Marjanita said, rushing to her side.

  Calpurnia shook her head. She still trembled with shock and could not speak.

  The marines began to study the surroundings, checking warily in each dark corner for the source of her alarm.

  "There is nothing here, ma'am," one of the marines reported.

  "What happened, my lady?" Marjanita pleaded. “What made you cry out so?"

  Calpurnia waved her away and forced herself to bring her breathing under control. She slowly rose to her feet and scanned around the room as she slowly collected herself. She knew her attacker. It had been Odulph, of course. He had somehow entered the cabin after she had gone to bed, but now, there was no trace of him anywhere. He was gone.

  "My lady Calpurnia," Captain Naevius said, entering the room clad in only a tunic and holding a pugio dagger. "My men reported that you were in distress. Are you hurt, ma'am? What has happened?"

  Calpurnia eyed the open window where the leather curtain flapped in the breeze. Surely, Odulph had used it to escape, and perhaps to enter as well, but now she was beginning to wonder at his true intentions. If he had wished to kill her, he certainly could have done that while she slept.

  "Nothing has happened, cap
tain," she replied, after taking a deep breath. "A nightmare, nothing more. My apologies for disturbing you and your men. I am quite recovered, now, thank you."

  Naevius looked at her doubtfully. He had followed her eyes when they had glanced at the window, and now he marched swiftly across the room to examine it.

  "I said I am quite fine, captain," she stated in an effort to stop him, but he was already at the window, holding his dagger at the ready and motioning the marines to him.

  Calpurnia choked back a protest as Naevius thrust the dagger out the opening and downward in a motion that would certainly strike anyone who might be hanging onto the rail just outside, but his blade met with no obstruction. He then poked his head outside and scanned all around the dark world beyond. Apparently satisfied that nothing was there, he waved at the guards to stand down.

  Calpurnia hid her relief as he faced her.

  "I do not suppose you will accept a guard posted in your room to ward off any further nightmares, my lady.”

  "Your concern warms my heart, captain, but I will be fine. Please leave me now, that I may go back to sleep."

  With a somewhat annoyed glance, Naevius led the marines out of the room. Calpurnia held a finger to her lips before Marjanita could barrage her with questions. The handmaid reluctantly complied, remaining silent.

  After waiting a suitable amount of time, in which Calpurnia fully expected Naevius to return unannounced under some pretense, she crossed to the window and leaned out over the edge. The black water rippled three decks below. It was not an easy climb, even for one with two full legs, but somehow Odulph had done it.

  Where had he come from? Had he managed to remain unseen all these days since her father’s death? Obviously, the ship's company was not wise to his presence. But why had he attacked her? Was it an attack? There was little doubt that he could have crushed the life out of her, had he wished to. Now that the initial shock was over, she could see things more clearly. Though in a panic when the creature was hovering over her, she remembered now that the pressure of his hand on her face had been restrained. Perhaps this visitation had been an attempt to communicate with her, to convey some message regarding her father's death.

  Odulph was not a mindless animal as many surmised. She knew this for a fact. Few others, if any, shared her knowledge. Even her own father had not known Odulph as she knew him. In many ways Calpurnia felt a strange sort of bond with Odulph, for what was she if not a creature in a cage? Her cage was perfumes, lips painted to a cherry red, and gold-stranded dresses cut to accentuate her breasts and hips. As Odulph was the augury for her father, she exemplified the same to her contending suitors, the countless gentlemen of Rome who endeavored to find fortune and divine blessings by securing her hand in marriage. Much like her father had treated Odulph, the well-bred gentlemen tossed her gifts or delicacies as rewards for her obedience.

  And there were other reasons that she felt a bond with Odulph, as well. Her plans, her entire reason for coming aboard the Argonaut had now taken an unexpected turn.

  “Odulph is alive,” she whispered to Marjanita. “He was in this room when I woke.”

  “What, my lady? The creature?”

  “He is not a creature!” Calpurnia snapped. “He is quite probably the only one who witnessed my father’s murder. I believe he was trying to communicate with me, but my fear got the better of me.”

  “He would have killed you, my lady.”

  “No. I do not believe that. I know him, Marjanita. There is an understanding between us. He will not harm me. He is somewhere on this ship, and I believe he will try to contact me again.”

  “If he does, my lady, he will receive my blade through his animal gullet.”

  “You will do no such thing! Do you hear? You are not to harm him in any way.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “With Senator Postumus aboard, and now this, it is clear to me what I must do.”

  Marjanita looked at her apprehensively. “This ship holds great danger for you, my lady.”

  Calpurnia smiled appreciatively. “I will remain aboard this ship when it sails, Marjanita. Tomorrow morning, you will go ashore and fetch Cora and Lila and the rest of my baggage and personal things. But before you do that, I have another task for you.”

  “Captain Naevius will never allow you to remain aboard, my lady.”

  “Leave Naevius to me. Just do as I say, and be sure that you are back aboard by midday.”

  XV

  The fleet sailed under oars and canvas, sixty bows dashing the seas into white spray across a blue expanse. The sun had driven any clouds from the sky, and nearly every ship ran unhindered. The Greek coast had just fallen over the eastern horizon and now an infinite sea stretched in all directions.

  “It is not right, Admiral! Simply not right!” Naevius protested at Libo’s shoulder for the fourth time since the fleet had gotten underway earlier that day. Both men stood on the stern deck of the bounding Argonaut somewhere in the center of the formation. “She should not have your quarters, sir. She should not even be here! You are the admiral of this fleet. I care not who her father was. The stern cabin on the flagship belongs to the admiral. It is clearly stated in the code of naval discipline.”

  “As I told you before, Captain, she is our guest,” Libo sighed at having to repeat it again. “She will be put ashore at the first convenient opportunity.”

  “But it is improper, sir. It sends the wrong message to the crew. They wonder if the dead admiral still commands this fleet through the person of his daughter.”

  Libo could hear the challenge in his voice, and perhaps some resentment. Naevius had spent the last several hours overloading the him with reports of the fleet’s many shortages, of the reduced manning on the oars, of the meager number of men pressed into service, of the few stores pilfered from the harbor warehouses – each report more dire than the last. All throughout, Naevius had addressed him in a somewhat pejorative tone, as if all of these problems were now his to bear and Naevius had little confidence in his ability to fix them. Above all of these more essential concerns, Naevius had elevated the issue of Lady Calpurnia.

  “Her presence here is inappropriate, my lord,” Naevius said again.

  “It will be a minor inconvenience, captain,” Libo replied, this time not hiding his own annoyance. “One I am sure you can overcome. I would recommend you spend more time seeing to your duties and less pondering the comings and goings of Lady Calpurnia.”

  Libo smiled inwardly as the flag captain moved on, venting his anger on a pair of nearby sailors fumbling with a knotted sheet. Libo knew the real reason Naevius wanted Lady Calpurnia gone, and it had little to do with naval tradition. Aside from the admiral’s cabin, there were only two staterooms on the crowded Argonaut. They were more like large lockers, but they were private quarters nonetheless. With Senator Postumus occupying the one normally used by the captain of marines, Libo had moved into the other one, the one normally occupied by the flag captain, forcing Naevius to berth with the rest of the officers. This evidently did not sit well with Naevius. Libo sighed at the thought that he would have to deal with the flag captain on a daily basis, another of the many displeasures that came with his new position.

  Libo had arrived in Corcyra earlier that morning at the head of his battered, but victorious squadrons, and had received a spirited ovation from every anchored ship they passed. As expected, he had reported aboard the flagship and had been met at the gangway by Senator Postumus and the smartly turned out ship’s company. The ceremony had been brief, the smiling senator adorning him with the badge of office, the admiral’s baton, and a laurel for his most recent victory against the Rhodians. But no sooner had the ceremony concluded than polished breastplates and helmets disappeared to be replaced by drab sea cloaks, and all preparations made for getting underway.

  Now, as Libo looked out at the cruising fleet, making mental notes of which ships had trouble keeping station, the Argonaut’s officers stood apart from him, all clustere
d by the weather rail. They were all Naevius’s men, and that was unfortunate. Libo was at the pinnacle of his career, in command of the entire fleet, but he felt more isolated now than ever. He wished direfully that among the mass of ships dotting the seas around him, he might catch sight of the Remus, or the Aurora, or the Pluto, but they were not there. It was perhaps the bitterest moment of the day, when Senator Postumus had informed him that Aquila Squadron – Libo’s old squadron – was to be detached from the fleet and sent back to eastern waters to quell the pirate menace that had sprung up there.

  Of course, it was all hogwash. The Senate was simply exercising its power over the new admiral, letting him know that they were in ultimate control, depriving him of his old cadre of loyal captains to limit his influence over the fleet. Libo still smarted from the line in his appointment letter, stating that he was not to bring any officers with him from the Remus, as was the traditional right of any newly appointed commander. For Libo certainly would have replaced a few officers, starting with the flag captain.

  But there were also others aboard, aside from Naevius, whom Libo would have preferred to leave in Corcyra.

  “Your orders are clear, are they not, Admiral?” Postumus had said shortly after the ceremony that morning, as Libo had perused the document bearing his official sailing orders.

  “I am to take the fleet to Brundisium and blockade the harbor there,” Libo summarized what he had just read.

  “Precisely. And it is imperative that you sail without delay. There is no telling when Antony might attempt another crossing. We must be off Brundisium within three days.”