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

by R. Cameron Cooke

  Lucius was still contemplating this, and had just reached the berthing area, when a shadow moved at him. He had not noticed the slim figure standing in a dark corner of the passage and he immediately took a defensive stance, preparing to face what he thought must surely be one of Postumus’s assassins.

  “No need to startle so, Spanish dog,” a woman’s voice came from the shadows. “I could have killed you easily where you stand. You would have breathed your last before you knew who had slain you.”

  The slim figure moved into the lamp light, revealing the stone-like features of Marjanita. She eyed him with something that could only be described as repugnance, but Lucius smiled back at her as he let his guard down.

  “That’s the second time you’ve told me that. I’m beginning to think you do not like me.”

  “You are a man,” she replied icily, as if no further explanation was necessary.

  “Perhaps you should not approach men like that. Had I been armed –”

  “I assure you, dog, that I could never be in any danger from you,” she said sharply. “My lady wishes to see you. You will come with me.”

  “At this hour?”

  “At once!” she snapped, eyeing him with hostility for daring to hesitate to obey her mistress’s command.

  Lucius sighed with the weariness he felt and the problem that weighed on his mind, but he gestured for the handmaid to lead the way. He knew she would never take no for an answer, and he knew that he would not truly find any rest in the forest of swinging hammocks that was the crews’ berth, where an assassin might easily hide and slip a knife into his back the moment he closed his eyes.

  Lucius was surprised to discover that Calpurnia’s cabin was perhaps the only place on the entire ship that did not reek of either urine, pitch, or foul seawater. It had the aroma of jasmine in the spring. Around the room were scattered the chests, luggage, and appurtenances of a noble woman. Near a small portal, where the cool sea air wafted in brief gusts, an assortment of dresses was hung to dry, having been cleaned using the urine pot in the corner and then scented. Calpurnia’s young, female slaves were proficient at seeing to their lady’s needs under all circumstances, even in the confinements of a ship at sea.

  Calpurnia did not rise when he entered. She sat in a chair in the center of the cabin, flanked by both slave girls who hovered over their mistress, combing out strand after strand of the lady’s long hair, preparing it for the next morning when they would braid and dress it in some new and stylish fashion, as they did every day.

  “Thank you for coming, Centurion,” she said, in a much more welcoming tone than Marjanita had used. “It is Centurion Domitius, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “I never got the chance to thank you, Centurion, for helping me that night in the hold.”

  “It was you that saved me, ma’am, from the lash and execution.”

  She smiled cordially, and then glanced at Marjanita and nodded. Without a word passing between them, the handmaid drew the curtain aside at the doorway to verify that no one had followed them, and that no one was eavesdropping. After she was satisfied, she shut the curtain and made a similar inspection of the portal. Finally, she nodded once to Calpurnia.

  “I know that you met with Admiral Libo tonight, Centurion,” Calpurnia said. “And I know what he asked you to do.”

  “If you know that, my lady,” Lucius answered with a grin, “Then you must be a fairy, for the admiral and I were all alone.”

  “He asked you to kill Antony. He asked you to do it during the meeting tomorrow using a missile thrower from a concealed position on the vessel that is to convey the delegation to the shore.”

  Lucius marveled. “How could you know that, ma’am? I’m certain we were alone.”

  “Your place is to answer questions, dog!” the handmaid snapped.

  “No, Marjanita,” Calpurnia waved her off with a single raised hand. “This man is a centurion of Rome, and he should be treated, and addressed, with the courtesies due his valiant rank.”

  “Thank you, my lady,” Lucius bowed appreciatively to Calpurnia, and then shot Marjanita an impishly triumphant glance.

  “I cannot tell you how I know these things,” Calpurnia continued, “I will just tell you that my late father, in spite of his many faults, had several subordinates that were steadfastly loyal to him. Those men are now loyal to me. But, even without their intelligence, I might have guessed Libo’s course of action. He is woefully predictable – a dreamer, an idealist, who will never survive the schemes of the senators and the politicians.”

  “I would not know about that, my lady.”

  “No, I suppose not. But you did hear me talk of the Raven this evening. You heard the death and destruction he has enacted, and will continue to enact until Rome is in his hands.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m not sure I followed all of it.”

  “Then let me put it plainly to you. The man called the Raven is the greatest threat Rome has faced since the days of Marius and Sulla. He controls from the shadows, buying off senators, hiring assassins, appointing generals, governors, even town magistrates. I know of at least two major allies of Rome that have his agents lurking within their high council. He is setting the stage meticulously, Centurion, using the distraction of this civil war to make some of his boldest moves. One day, we shall awake to a new Rome, controlled like a puppet, with the Raven pulling the strings.”

  “I’ve known a few men with such ambitions, my lady.”

  “Oh, Caesar does not compare to the Raven, Centurion. Caesar does not have the resources to pull off such a plan. As much as I dislike the tyrant, for all his corruption and thirst for power, he does have traces of a code of honor. Caesar has often shown clemency to his enemies. The Raven does not. He shows no mercy to those that lay between him and his plans. They are quickly murdered, regardless of their merits or their station. Like my brothers. Like my father.”

  Lucius briefly considered telling her how her father, too, was a bloody murderer who had roasted thirty ships full of legionaries, but he refrained.

  “I have been searching for the Raven for a long time, Centurion, and now that I have discovered him, I do not intend to let him get away.”

  “You have found this man, ma’am?”

  “Is it not obvious?” she said matter-of-factly. “Senator Postumus is the Raven. It is as clear to me as the morning sun. He tried to have us murdered because we were the only ones that might have interfered with his planned meeting with Antony. He wanted you eliminated because you were the only survivor of the orange-flagged ship, and thus might have had knowledge that you could impart to Libo, which you did. He would have preferred not to have included Libo in the proceedings tomorrow. But now he has no choice. He wanted me eliminated simply because of my association with my father. My presence on board was unexpected, and he knew that I already eyed him with suspicion over my father’s death. Now, he must somehow meet with Antony and still deal with us before we return to Greece. Be assured, Centurion, neither you nor I will reach Greece alive. He will make sure of that. Libo, himself, is in danger, though he is too stupid to know it.”

  Lucius was confused. “But I thought you had arranged the meeting with Antony, my lady.”

  “Of course, I did,” she said, as if it were obvious. “To flush the Raven out. And it has worked perfectly.” She continued after she saw the perplexed expression on Lucius’s face. “The message Antony received from the Raven was crafted by me as a ploy to draw the Raven out. I sealed the letter using the ring found with my brothers’ personal effects. That was the message Marjanita was carrying that night when you conveyed her to Antony’s chamber. He thought, and presumably still thinks, it came from the Raven himself. I knew that the true Raven would get wind of it, for his agents are everywhere, even among Antony’s own advisors, I suspect. His curiosity over who had sent the message would bring him to the surface, especially when he realized the sum of money involved. He would have no choice but to
intercept Antony’s messenger, who had intended on delivering the time and place for the meeting to a fictitious agent of the Senate in Thessalonica. The true Raven could not gamble on that message ever reaching the Senate. My plan has worked perfectly – aside from the tragedy of my poor father’s murder, which unfortunately I did not foresee. Postumus, no doubt, thought the false message was my father’s doing and had him murdered. Now that he believes the instigator of the plot has been eliminated, he has adopted the plot as his own and plans to see it to its end. How can he not, with half of Caesar’s army and half of the treasury at stake?”

  It was starting to make sense to Lucius now, though he still did not quite understand the full scope of it. The secret message carried on Marcellus’s dying lips had never been intended to reach anyone. It had been a lure, nothing more. The Raven – presumably Senator Postumus – had taken the bait, and now that Calpurnia had identified him…what would she do? Expose him to the exiled Senate? What purpose could that serve? Certainly, Postumus had enough allies there to disparage any of her accusations. Moreover, what proof did she have that any of it was true? It was all hearsay. Would she have gone to such means if she simply planned on disgracing the Raven? If not, then what was her plan? The answer dawned on him just as she started to speak again, as did the purpose of her summons.

  “You must kill Postumus tomorrow!” she said abruptly. “Not Antony. Antony is nothing. Postumus is the real threat.”

  So this had been her plan all along, Lucius concluded, to discover who the Raven was simply to have him killed. The sole purpose of this elaborate plot was to settle the score in a blood feud – to kill the man responsible for her brothers’ murders.

  “My family is wealthy, Centurion,” she went on. “If you do this, I will see to it that your needs are provided for. You will never want for money. You may retire any place you like. Go back to Spain, if you wish. My family owns villas in many provinces. Choose whichever one you like, and live out your days as an equite.” When Lucius did not answer immediately, she added, “Would the promise of such a reward entice you, Centurion?”

  “The reward, yes,” Lucius replied indifferently. “But not the promise, my lady. A man needs something he can taste and feel.”

  This reply incensed Marjanita, who stepped forward and said hotly, "Lady Calpurnia has made you an offer, Spanish dog! You dare haggle with her like some common merchant? You will do her bidding or see your entrails on this very floor." Her hand went to the hilt of a small sheathed blade. The sheath was tucked into a wide sash that conformed tightly around her slim waist, allowing Lucius to see the sinister outline of the hand-length, needle-like blade.

  Calpurnia raised her hand to motion her back. "No, Marjanita. Put your weapon away. This centurion has come here in friendship. He is a loyal soldier of Rome, and I was wrong to insult his honor so. Perhaps he is one of those soldiers whose reward comes simply in the execution of his duties."

  "I've seldom come across one of those, my lady," Lucius said grinning. "Most ended up on the end of a Gallic spear. A soldier’s got to have a reason to fight, just as a man must have a reason to live."

  "Then if gold and land will not lure you, perhaps payment of another sort might?" Calpurnia cut her eyes to the two female slaves brushing her hair in long strokes, then looked back at Lucius. "The oar is wearisome, I am sure, and like the sea stirs the fires of desire in most men. Perhaps something could be arranged?"

  Lucius smiled sportingly. "Perhaps, my lady."

  "I am glad we have come to an understanding. Do what I ask, and when we return to port, you shall have the most expensive lady of the night in all Corcyra."

  Lucius frowned overtly. "Life is so uncertain, my lady. Only the gods can make promises of things yet to come."

  "I see." Calpurnia seemed to consider for a moment before her eyes wandered to the two slaves beside her. "Lila and Cora are both skilled in many arts. They are striking, wouldn’t you say?" She then turned abruptly to the two women and commanded, "Both of you, disrobe before this man."

  Neither woman moved. Their faces stared at Lucius in horror, both at the command and the prospect of where it would lead.

  "Please, no, my lady," the one called Cora began to plead.

  Calpurnia’s face turned red at the show of disobedience. In an instant, Marjanita was there and struck Cora across the face with her open palm. "Stop your sniveling!” she demanded. “Your mistress has given you an order!"

  But when, still, neither woman complied, the exasperated handmaid took hold of the silk sashes at their waists and roughly towed them over to face Lucius. Marjanita was lithe in form, but the lean, muscled body Lucius had seen glistening in the moonlight that night concealed great strength. The two slaves were slightly taller and had larger hips than she, but she handled them both with little effort. In several quick jerking motions, she loosened the sashes and the ties of their gowns and let the unrestrained dresses fall into heaps around their feet. She then gruffly unfurled their tightly wound hair, letting the tresses fall twirling beyond their pale shoulders to brush past their quivering breasts.

  "There, Spaniard!" Marjanita said brusquely. "Choose and be done with it!"

  Both slaves averted their eyes and would not look at him as their naked bodies stood hardly an arm's length away. The one called Cora, who had been so brutally handled by the handmaid, had tears in her eyes. The sight of her instantly stirred painful memories within Lucius - memories of his own mother and sister, who had been raped and murdered by a band of ravaging men. Had they, too, looked this way before their captors?

  "I await your decision, Centurion," Calpurnia said. "Are they not lovely? Would not one or both of them quench the unfulfilled desires that burn within a man? You may satisfy your lust in any way you wish."

  At the mention of that, Cora seemed to nearly faint on her feet. But Marjanita quickly scolded her and took up her chin in her hand, forcing her to face forward.

  "Look at him, girl!" she demanded.

  "Well?" Calpurnia said to Lucius, her tone laced with the first tinge of impatience.

  "Both are indeed beautiful. I'll give you that, my lady," Lucius finally replied. "But I'm afraid neither one interests me."

  Calpurnia pressed her lips together in frustration for a moment, and then her eyes grew suddenly wide. "You will not have me, Centurion!"

  "No, my lady, with respect, not you either." Lucius smiled slyly and then looked away from Calpurnia, his eyes resting squarely on Marjanita.

  It took a moment before the handmaid appeared to realize that she had now become the focus of her mistress and the amused gaze of the centurion. For the space of a heartbeat her stern face lost all complexion.

  "Me?" she exclaimed, aghast.

  "It appears the centurion desires you, Marjanita," Calpurnia said evenly.

  "Never, my lady!" She replied hotly. "I would sooner slice his balls off!"

  Lucius laughed out loud. "That might affect my aim tomorrow. I'll need to be in fine form, my lady, if I'm to be sure of my shot."

  Marjanita was fixed upon her mistress, her face set in disbelief. "My lady, pray tell me you are not considering this!"

  But Calpurnia seemed unfazed by the centurion's proposition, and little concerned for the price that her handmaid would have to pay. "Come now," she said impassively. "We have little time for this. You will see to the centurion’s needs, and then he will do what I have asked of him." She gestured for the two slaves to put their clothes back on. When they had finished dressing under the incredulous eyes of Marjanita, Calpurnia rose from the chair. “Cora and Lila, I cannot sleep tonight. I wish to take a stroll on deck in the moonlight. The fresh air may calm my nerves. Both of you will accompany me.”

  The slave women nodded, one of them placing a heavy cloak around Calpurnia’s shoulders while the other gathered their own cloaks.

  While Marjanita gaped at her mistress in dumbfounded astonishment, Calpurnia turned to Lucius. “We shall return at the changing of the
watch. That should give you both – ample time.”

  Lucius looked at the wide-eyed Marjanita and then back at Calpurnia. “I suppose so, ma’am.”

  “Entertain him as he wishes,” Calpurnia directed Marjanita. “That is an order.”

  “But, my lady, this thing…I do not know how to…” her voice trailed off and the venom left her face, as if her mistress had betrayed her.

  “He will instruct you.” Calpurnia consoled her, and then looked Lucius up and down. “Do not worry. I am sure he is a veteran at many things.”

  XXVI

  The morning sun broke over the low bank of clouds far out to sea and shed its rays on the small islands lining the approaches to Brundisium’s harbor. The sea was relatively calm this day, and the surf broke gently along the tiny strips of white sand and rock. In the distance, along the coastal hills at the apex of the harbor, the rooftops of the town gleamed in many different hues of red. Those in the town, stepping out onto their terraces that morning, would see a vast armada sitting well out to sea. They would also see a single ship, with sails furled, approaching the northern-most of the tiny islands under oars. Pushing out from the harbor side, they would see five small galleys heading for the same island, their oars leaving tiny foamy disturbances on the water behind them.

  From the seaward side of the island, the single warship drove on amidst the rollers. She was the Faun – a nimble, one hundred-foot galley of eighty oars in two banks with a single weather deck and a rower deck below. When she had closed sufficiently with the shore, sailors leapt from her bows into the waist deep froth and began securing a pair of anchors. A rope ladder was dropped over the side, and two scores of men debarked, most of them marines with shields slung on their backs. The marines came to a halt once they reached dry ground, but three others who were with them continued on, plodding through the powdery sand laced with seashells and bird droppings.