I smiled at him. Only until I met with Armin. I fingered the ring in my hand.
PART IV: THE EAGLE AND THE FOX
'Roman laws concern us. Roman trade we do not need. Your words? We should not heed.'
Inguiomerus the Gaunt to Drusus.
CHAPTER XX
We were standing on the deck of a simple raft. We approached the harbor, wondering at the terrible business of slave trading, the miserable creatures huddled on the deck of a boat, some being ushered to sit by walls, all tethered like animals. We glimpsed long, busy warehouses full of jars of all sizes and shapes, even colors. Curious looking men were arguing, making hard bargains, and the beggars peered on, as vast sums of coin changed hands. The nauseating smells hammered our senses, and I remembered what Nihta had told me of the harbors of the southern seas. Part of that was evident, even in this backwater fort; the terrible sights of poverty and wondrous riches. They were all there, mixed together.
The town itself surrounding the harbor was growing, which was apparent by the harried craftsmen running wood to the town, the horse drawn carts a virtual line on the muddy roads. A tall wall was being erected around the town area, wooden, but in places already made of stone, and high up on the bluff overshadowing the town, the castrum had another village growing around it. Up there, I spotted a fabulous building, made of gray stone, a temple of Mercury. I had seen similar building in Burbetomagus, but this one was much larger, with real marble and stone on the walls, and a brilliant white statue hunkered over the doorway, overlooking the town, castrum, and the harbor.
Fulcher was looking at the massive fort with disbelieving eyes, and Ansbor was cursing. 'How did you take the fort in Matticati lands?' Fulcher asked, with a small voice.
'With surprise. We are not here to take this one. We are here to find a refuge inside it. I suppose we are guests,' I said neutrally.
Chariovalda snorted. 'You are guests, who are closely watched, my friends.'
Fulcher spat, and whispered to me, 'They are Romans. Not to be trusted.'
'Chariovalda is to be trusted, indeed. And they are our Roman hosts now,' I said. 'Until I find Armin,' I whispered.
'Until what?' asked Chariovalda. 'I couldn't hear you.'
'Until we know what Drusus will want to do with me,' I smiled, and lied to him.
He grimaced back, not entirely sure he should believe me. 'That, or until I decide I don't like your treasonous mutterings,' Chariovalda rumbled, as the ship moored to the planks with a jarring crash, and shrill curses from a thin harbormaster rang out, as he tore at his thinning hair.
Cassia was beaming. 'There is the warehouse my father owned!' Then, she squinted. 'It has been given to someone else now. Bastards. I should—'
I patted her back. 'Perhaps you should see what became of your estates. Get it back? We cannot help you, likely. Being non-Romans.'
'Peregrini,' she said, as she gazed at the warehouse. 'That is what you are called. The Romans do not truly see us local citizens as equals, either. There are many shades of respect and rights in these matters, and if my estate is gone, it is likely gone for good. And as I said, my former fiancé is likely married already. Hopefully.'
I snickered. 'You'll need a husband with a forceful war band to wrest it back, should you wish to.'
'Are we talking about my dreams now, finally?' Cassia asked. 'You never wondered about them.'
'I have asked why you stayed,' I growled, and bowed sarcastically. 'What are your dreams?'
She took a shuddering breath. 'I had dreams to make the estates something much more than they were with Father. We have apples and wheat, lumber and ore, and he was a hopeless idiot with the prizing and timing as he traded it. Yet, now? I have different dreams. You meet someone, and then, you are hopelessly stricken. So, now, I have different plans. I'll stay with you. As for Lif, we are all with you. For, we love you.' She went silent, and put a hand on mine for a second. I stiffened, and stared in her eyes. 'And I am not some fawning fool you can mistreat, Hraban. I will hit you with an axe, if you do not appreciate me. So far, you have. But, I want more.'
'What did you tell Ansbor that night we were running away from Odo?' I asked her breathlessly.
'I don't know how to break his heart, Hraban. You must, if you feel the same,' she told me, smiled, and moved away.
Gods, help me, I thought, as despite our hardships and my sorrow, I did love her.
'What did she say?' Ansbor came over and asked me, somewhat desperately. 'You held hands. As friends? Did she—'
'I spoke to her about our business, of Lif, and other things. And they are our words, Ansbor, not yours.' I marched away, hoping he would not follow. I felt guilty, but we were heading for trouble, and I had no time for his moods. I would have to break him. Fulcher was right.
Later.
We disembarked after the Batavi, and walked by to a sad slave market. Vendors hawked their living wares, Germani youths being particularly sought after by a Roman merchant, and of course, the young women were fetching handsome prizes. One young, red-headed girl was looking at us, huge eyed, with misplaced hope.
'Bless the girls, if they go to Rome,' Chariovalda crumbled, as the horses were disembarked, and he swatted a slave who had pushed his horse disrespectfully.
Ansbor stopped me. 'Why do they hold them out like this?'
Cassia turned to him. 'They are flesh, that is all. Slave in Germania is a happier creature than one in Rome, or even Gaul. One has to obey, but here, they have no rights. I was his slave, remember?' She thumbed towards me.
'You never were! I needed a healer for the dolt. I fetched one,' I nodded at Ansbor. 'One of the better deeds Felix ever did for us.'
'There are many, many slaves here, young Ansbor. You will find it different to your home,' Chariovalda told him good-naturedly.
'I miss it already,' Ansbor grumbled.
I could only agree. I remembered my unwilling visit to Burbetomagus. Despite the fantastic shops full of fabulous and unusual wares, and strange looking traders from afar, I had not loved it. Home was where you woke up to a slight chill. It was where you walked to the hall for a quick bite of cold meat, or bowl of warmed gruel, and outside the birds sang in your own language, the fat cows complained as slaves milked them, and you were your own master.
Yet, I had no such home. Nor would I, unless with Armin. And even then, I would be shunned and reviled.
There, in the Roman lands, none knew me. I cursed and corrected myself. The Romans did not know me. The Germani, like the Vangiones, did, and were not friends to me either.
Chariovalda was finally ready. We mounted up. 'Come, Legate Saturninus waits!' he yelled.
'Saturninus?' I asked, as I followed him.
'A legate to the XIX Legion up north with the Ubii, but here to deal with many issues with the infrastructure. He is a master in logistics, and should be in Syria fixing the tax system, not in here. But, he is needed. Drusus trusts him. A fair man as well, as long as he does not dislike you,' he said. Children chased after us, and Chariovalda enjoyed a game of torture and threw them bronze coins that landed in hard to reach places. He enjoyed a particular success when a child had to climb to a jar, or over something bigger than they were to reach the coins. 'Builds up character,' he explained sheepishly, as Cassia scowled at him, after a dog had nearly bit a girl for coming too close. She got the coin though, and smiled impishly after us. 'See?' he asked Cassia. She did not answer.
Before us opened the clear space in front of the huge fort. This was the area where you were not allowed to build anything; the killing field for missiles, should an enemy lay siege to the fort. The legate sat on a small horse outside the gate. He had on his brilliant, sculpted armor, and his guards were glistening in the sun in their metal helmets with feathers sticking up, their lorica hamata shined to the sheen. We approached the legate, who was an older man, weather-beaten, white-haired, and looked like he would be able to eat a brick. 'So, how did it go?'
Chariovalda saluted the ma
n. 'The Pup should have the Matticati under his weak thumb now. I left some commanders there, and brought back some of the more rebellious chiefs. The lot are to be jailed. That should keep their families controlled, at least until the Pup is seen as a legitimate ruler.'
'Losses? Maroboodus?' he asked.
'Infinitesimal. Lost a few men. And I did scout the lands of the Quadi,' he said, with a smile.
Saturninus was scratching under his chinstrap, then he took off the helmet, and his sweaty gray curls were plastered to his head. 'So? Tell me more. You look like a dog that stole a snail pie.'
'I could kill for one!' Chariovalda said, but did not draw a favorable expression from the legate, who was a short man, as were many Romans, but wide of shoulders, and his eyes missed little. He was like flesh beaten into iron by rigors and pain. Men like this would wreak havoc on our side of the river. My fingers brushed Nightbright, and his eyes bore into mine.
'You found a wild wolf out there?' he said carefully, nodding at me.
'Ah, yes. Him. He is an interesting creature, Legate. I saved his hide, as he was running from some scoundrels. Fights well, and I am thinking about keeping him,' Chariovalda said, with a wink.
Legate was nodding. 'And?'
'And … ' Chariovalda said, throwing his hands around. 'Nothing, legate. He is my pet. I'll show him to Drusus, perhaps.'
'I see,' the legate said. 'What does he have to say to Drusus?'
'I—’
The man was consumed by sudden rage, and he hit his four-horned, silver-etched saddle savagely. 'There is this meeting coming, Chariovalda, and it is driving me crazy. Absolutely mad. So what news does this one have for Drusus? I know you two, Drusus and yourself, are close friends, and now you wish to show this dark-haired bastard to him. Now, cough it up. You know he is my friend as well.'
'Is there one Antius in the camp?' I asked him, with broken Latin, and his rage turned into astonishment.
'My, my! A Germani who speaks civil. Like a demented child, but still! Antius? The negotiatore? Yes, he is here,' Saturninus said. Then, he raised his hand. 'Wait. The man is as slippery as a prick after a good night with a woman, and none like him. He is getting rich with his business, and he is not known to be very honest. Likely sells some of the food meant for the troops to the enemy, even. Is this about it?'
'No,' I said.
'Good, for that would be beneath Drusus to handle,' he crumbled. 'So, it must be some sort of a conspiracy. No?'
'Yes,' I said calmly.
'In that case, feel free to stay, young man,' he grinned. 'There are a few of us keen on keeping the young lord alive, and he does need to be warned until he hears and obeys.'
'He is not that young,' Chariovalda said softly.
'Be that as it may, that fat turnip Antius has a lot of power, boys. He should not be called a traitor, at least to his face, nor to anyone else's, now that I think about it.' Saturninus let his face adopt a gentler look. It made him look strange, as if kindness was painful to him. 'You will let Nero Claudius Drusus decide what to do with him. He might not listen. Big things are afoot.'
'I am honored to meet him, if he has an hour to spare,' I said, seething at the lost time. 'When is this meeting, and will the Cherusci come?' Chariovalda glanced my way suspiciously, but I ignored him.
'Oh, I am sure he has time for men who fight. He likes the grease of the saddle, loves even the lazy soldiers, so you will see him. Now, Chariovalda, talk to me on the side.' They rode off near the wall, where Chariovalda laughed as he gestured towards me. Saturninus sighed and started to argue, and they had an animated discussion. After a while, they came back. 'I assume you will make sure he goes nowhere without guards. I have things to do before Drusus arrives. They made him an urban praetor in Rome for this year, but he cannot keep his hands off the Germani, so he is here,' Saturninus said, dismissing me with his hand. 'That means I cannot leave to Ara Ubiorum for the XIX legion yet, either.'
Chariovalda was playing with one of his moustaches and winked at us. 'Yes, our sponsor is looking to kill a great chief in a single combat, so he can offer Juppiter Spolia Opima the enemy's armor in Rome. Glorious goal, though his pregnant wife will likely curse him for his dangerous hobbies!' Chariovalda looked at me and smirked. 'Perhaps he shall hunt your father in the field? And he has other reasons to be here. You will see.'
'My father is mine. He has to get in line,' I growled.
'He's got a split face, and he is still full of hot air.' Chariovalda jerked a thumb in my direction.
'Who is his father? Never mind! Drusus will put him in his place,' Saturninus said and left, cursing all the Germani to Hades. Then he cursed again, as he could not ride to camp, dismounted stiffly, and took the rightmost gate, Porta Principalis Dextra, as he huffed away. 'Find one Cornix for me!' he screamed at a guard, and I smiled. 'The optio with no face. You know him, Antius's lapdog. Find him!' A guard ran to execute his orders.
'I told him he should hold Cornix, Antius's helper, though I did not tell him what for. He did not appreciate it, but agreed. But, I doubt he is to be found,' Chariovalda said. 'It is very hard to pin that fat Antius down, and I doubt his man is easier to find.' He squinted my way. 'Puppet for so many mighty children, that is what you are, Hraban.'
I spat. 'Puppets sometimes get pulled apart by naughty children. I am no puppet, not anymore.'
'Being a puppet to Drusus might be the first time you can make the most of yourself,' he told me, and burped. 'Forget the Cherusci, and whatever you plan with them. Yes, they will be here.' He led his men to the outskirts of the fort. 'Fossa,' he said before we went through the brooding gates, pulling at our horses, pointing down at the deep pit surrounding the fort, deeper than most. 'Agger!' he said, and pointed at the elevated wooden and sturdy stonewalls and I grunted. Tall and thick. 'More than agger now. Used to be a rut in the sand.'
We entered the fort, leading the horses to a stable area near the gates, where the men of small detachment of cavalry were fixing up some broken harness. Chariovalda was smiling. 'Look, there, the Via Principalis takes you across to the parade ground in the middle, after that the praetorium, and there, boy, sits our Saturninus and the other legates.'
Inside the gate, the castrum was very similar to the fort the Roman cohort had been building in the land of the Matticati, but larger, much larger, made for more than one legion. There were lines of barracks, many with patios. A straight stone road ran for the praetorium, and at the end of the street, I could see finer houses, the ones for higher officers, or tribunes. On the right and left, just after the gate, there was a clear space, so it would be easy to run to the walls, and legionnaires were living in barracks just next to this space. There were corrals for cows, and sheds for other animals.
We walked forward, and I admired the quality of the road. So smooth and well-placed, it actually felt crafted by gods. It felt strange to walk on it, and I tried to use the mud tracks beside it, but Chariovalda jerked me back to the road. We passed the numerous barracks, where men of the legions lounged, gambled, and laughed, their officers cursing, trying to find them things to do. A Germani chief would have to cajole and exhort their men to get out and do some menial tasks, and even then, they would be poorly done, but here, they tried to excel. Yet, the men seemed happy.
I would see these men fight, one day, no longer happy but angry and bloodthirsty.
Chariovalda grinned sadly. 'Our Germani pride is based on the individual, theirs on the nation. An individual will go on through centuries, unchanged, feeling insulted by the slightest slight, and thus will Germani conquer slowly, for they will obey no one. Rome conquers swiftly, for they say, “we will,” instead of “I will.” We brag of individual victories, they of common slaughter. Their soldiers, if not the generals, will share the spoils gladly, as well as the pains. If a Roman soldier ever lost their pride in their nation, these men would turn in to mercenaries.' I shrugged it out of my head, but would think about it in the future.
We walked all the wa
y to the fifth street, where we noticed locals had set up a small market, and they could go no further than this. The Gauls had set up a forum, where they sold anything from clothing to weapons, love potions, and tools. There was food, all kinds of meat and vegetables, and brazen women as well, though the final part of that business was to be conducted outside. Legionnaires and Gauls looked up at us with brief interest, and went back to bantering.
In the middle of the camp was a very austere looking building, with marble columns, small ones, but still, and other buildings meant for the standards and officers. 'Praetorium,' Chariovalda said patiently. We turned north, and walked briskly to the auxilia barracks, similar in style to every other building we passed.
'This is like a dream,' Ansbor said. 'Was Castrum Luppia like this before your father burned it? Surely not?'
'No, they were tents only,' I said. 'The way you saw it. Some hundred soldiers.'
'They are like ants,' Fulcher said, as he ogled the marching men in chain mail. 'Merciless and precise. Do they enjoy themselves?'
'I do not know,' I said somberly. 'But they fight doggedly.'
Some men were working on building a smithy and setting up workshops, and there were some who were cooking bread in clay ovens. Legionnaires stopped and smiled at us, and I decided they knew how to enjoy life as well. They were an interesting lot. I gazed at their faces, and there were young boys full of wonder, old grizzled veterans, with scars and scowls to match, rat-toothed men, with skinny faces, fat men, with swarthy complexions. All men different to each other, of course, yet all similar in dress, and especially in bearing. Proud. Indomitable. Capricious and gay at the same time. The best men there are, they obviously thought. And they were right.
I envied them, and understood how a man could find a place for themselves amongst them.
Around us, the sturdy legionnaires came and went, hundreds working on hauling gear and building materials, hundreds were out training. And running. Gods, like Nihta had trained me. Some men were waiting in lines for food, and others were fixing gear. A man was hollering, running a gauntlet of grim-faced, determined men. His mates were punishing him, brutally, and whacking his with cingulum belts, studded ones, and blood flew.
Raven's Wyrd: A Novel of Germania and Rome (Hraban Chronicles Book 2) Page 31
