“How did you know?” Brude asked her.
“You are hard to read, Brutus,” Vipsania told him. “But when you came into the room just now there was something different about you. It wasn’t hard to guess what it was when I heard she had sent Marcella home alone. I thought she would try something with you eventually. I have seen her looking at you.”
“Then you are more observant than I am,” Brude told her. “I didn’t think she had even noticed me that much.”
“She’s a sly one, my stepmother. She is very patient. She never takes many risks. But now that she has got you, you will not escape her easily. I expect she has told you to go to her room tonight?”
Brude nodded. “She has. But I think now that I will stay away.”
Vipsania was horrified. “You must not do that now! The time for excuses is past. If you refuse her now you will find yourself accused of rape. My father will never take your word against hers. You will be sent back to the arena to face the wild beasts without any weapons to save you.”
“Your father would believe you, though,” Brude said, urgently, trying to think of a way out of his predicament.
Vipsania scoffed at that, too. “I am a girl, still wearing my bulla. She is a free born Roman citizen and you are a freedman. Her word carries more weight than either of ours and you know it. She will always convince my father of whatever she wants him to think.” She softened her tone as she took his hand, stroking the back of it gently. “My dear friend, Brutus, you are trapped. There is only one thing you can do now though it breaks my heart to tell you.”
Brude could hardly believe that he was taking advice from a girl as young as Vipsania but she was his friend and she was clever, so he asked her, “What should I do?”
“Go to her room tonight and do what you have to do. After that you can either stay here until she gets bored with you and discards you as she has done with her other lovers or you can leave. I will miss you terribly if you go, but I think that is what you should do for the best. She once had one of the slaves executed after she forced him to become her lover. She grew tired of him when he began to act above his station. She accused him of trying to rape her so the poor man was taken away and thrown to the lions. I do not want that to happen to you.”
“You are a better friend than I deserve,” Brude told her. “You are right. I don’t think I could stay in your father’s house knowing how I have betrayed his trust.”
“You are not the first and you will not be the last,” said Vipsania sadly. “But you are the only one I have wished could have escaped her clutches.”
Just then the door opened. Vipsania hastily let go of Brude’s hand as the nurse came back in. They said farewell formally, under the scathing look of the nurse, who did not approve of him being alone in Vipsania’s room.
That night he went to Agrippina’s bedchamber where he learned that Vipsania was right about her stepmother’s beauty being all on the outside, for even while he was making love to her, Agrippina was whispering warnings of what she could order done to him if he did not please her. To Brude, beautiful as she was, she was less honest than the cheap whores who thronged around the amphitheatr.
“I have decided I would like to accompany your son to Germania, sir.”
Aquila was delighted, thanking Brude enthusiastically. “My wife and daughter will be upset, I expect, but I am pleased you have decided to do this. I know Lucius will be pleased too.”
Brude managed not to react when Aquila mentioned his wife. He felt like a traitor, for he had spent the last two nights in the man’s marriage bed doing things with Agrippina, which, she had claimed, Aquila had neither the energy nor the imagination for. Brude made his excuses and left the old Roman as quickly as he could.
Cleon was heartbroken when he heard Brude was leaving. He tried to persuade him to stay but Brude’s mind was made up, although he could not tell his friend why. Eventually, Cleon brought out an old map and showed Brude where Germania was. He was surprised when he saw how close it was to Britannia. Then he remembered how long it had taken him to walk from Broch Tava to the Wall. When he saw how tiny a distance that was on the map, he realised that Germania was still a long way from his home. But, for the first time in months, the thought of home had more appeal than the luxuries of Rome.
They left three days later. Lucius was dressed in a breastplate of bronze which portrayed a carving of an eagle across his chest. He wore a red cloak fastened round his shoulders and a helmet with a red horsehair plume. A gladius hung at his right side. He looked every inch the young soldier. Brude wore a tunic and leggings. He, too, had a cloak, a plain one, and a gladius looped over his shoulder to hang at his side, a gift from Aquila. Aquila had also purchased four horses. Lucius’ belongings were packed onto two of the animals while they had one horse each to carry them the long miles to Germania. Brude had only a sleeping blanket and a small pack containing the wooden rudis, his manumission papers and what few coins he had saved, carefully sealed in a waterproof case.
After a brief halt at the temple of Capitoline Jupiter, to offer a sacrifice for a safe journey, the family came to the gates of the city to see them off. Brude was astonihed to see old Curtius and one-armed Kallikrates from the gladiator school there as well. They hugged him and Curtius had a tear in his eye as he said farewell. Cleon was crying, tears rolling down his cheeks, his old, lined face wrinkled even more than usual. He gave Brude some scrolls. “It’s Homer. Lucius will be able to help you with any words you cannot make out. I think you will enjoy it.”
“I will read every word, my friend,” Brude promised him.
Vipsania kissed both of them on the cheeks. Brude whispered his thanks to her. “I will not forget you,” he told her.
“Nor I you,” she answered softly.
Then Agrippina embraced Lucius, kissing his forehead. She turned to Brude and embraced him as well, pressing herself against him. “I will miss you,” she whispered.
“And I you, my lady.” He had been afraid she would denounce him to Aquila but, when he had told her of his plan to accompany Lucius, she had simply smiled and said, “I know, my love. Why do you think I let you into my bed? It is best that you go now before things become difficult.” He knew that he meant nothing to her. Vipsania was right about her and he guessed that someone else would soon take his place. For the moment, though, Agrippina was once again the chaste Roman lady he had known before. Now, feeling the hidden promise beneath her gown, he was glad that he was leaving. Life would become far too complicated if he stayed.
Aquila shook his hands warmly, thanking him for his service as he handed him a small pouch of coins. “A little something extra for you,” the old Roman said, making Brude feel even worse about his betrayal of the man. It was as if he was being paid for sleeping with Aquila’s wife.
He climbed onto his horse then clumsily followed Lucius away from the city, along the Via Aurelia, heading north. They turned to wave farewell to the tiny figures at the city gates, then they crested the hill, leaving Rome behind them.
The journey north took them over a month. Brude had never ridden a horse before and he was in agony after the first day. While he slowly got used to being on horseback, he never felt comfortable at any pace faster than a slow trot, so they made poor time. Aquila had given Lucius several letters, carefully scratched onto clay tablets, to deliver to friends and acquaintances, with whom they would sometimes stay overnight. Most nights they stopped at an imperial staging post where, because Lucius was on military duty, they were able to get a bed for the night and where their horses could be stabled alongside the mounts used by the imperial messengers.
Lucius was talkative on the journey and Brude realised that the young man was nervous. He was only a couple of years older than Brude had been when he had first gone to war and, despite his training and education, this was a daunting step for the young Roman. He called Brude by his praenomen of Marcus, insisting that Brude call him Lucius, at least when they were in private. He also h
elped Brude decipher some of the unfamiliar Greek words in the scrolls Cleon had given him. Despite Cleon’s teaching, Brude still struggled to read the strange-looking Greek script but he slowly learned of the adventures of the Greek hero, Achilles, in the famous war against Troy, a story every Roman seemed to know by heart.
They took the road through Cisalpine Gaul, rather than cross the mighty mountain range of the Alps because the coastal route was easier for an inexperienced rider like Brude, even though it added several days to the journey. From the coast, though, he could see the sheer sides of the immense mountains, huge slabs of grey rock rising from the plains, their peaks often shrouded by clouds and always tipped white with snow, despite the summer heat. He had crossed the mountains into Hispania and they had been impressive enough but the Alps were simply stunning, dwarfing even the magnificent buildings of the Roman towns and cities that lay at their feet. Lucius told him a story about a famous soldier called Hannibal, who came from Carthage, once an enemy of Rome. Hannibal had crossed the Alps in midwinter to bring war to the very doors of Rome itself. “He even brought some elephants with him,” said Lucius.
Brude could scarcely believe that. He would not have liked to try crossing the mountains in the summer, let alone in the middle of winter. “He must have been quite a man,” he said wonderingly.
“He was. Three times he annihilated the armies Rome sent against him. He stayed in Italy for nearly twenty years.”
“What happened to him?” Brude asked.
Lucius said, “The same thing that happens to all enemies of Rome. He was defeated eventually and Carthage was destroyed. Now it has been rebuilt as a Roman city.”
That part of the story rang true. The Romans believed, with a conviction as strong as any Brude had ever seen, that they were destined to rule. No matter that they might suffer a setback in war, they knew, as they knew the sun would rise each morning, that they would always win in the end. Rome had few enemies left.
Following the military roads, the two riders headed northwards, circling round the edge of the huge mountain range until they eventually reached the Rhenus. The mighty river, broad, deep and fast-flowing, surged through the hills on its way northwards, carving its own valley as it went. They crossed after a few days of following it northwards, using a wide wooden bridge, then headed eastwards, through the hills and forests until they reached the camp where Quintus Aemilius Tertius, imperial legate, commander of the legions of Germania Superior, had his headquarters.
Military life was another new experience for Brude. The camp was a permanent one, with buildings built of stone, brick and tiles rather than wood. It was laid out in a rectangle with two main roads, one heading north to south, the other east to west, although the intersection was not in the centre because the north-south road was nearer the western side of the camp. The headquarters building was at the intersection and the whole encampment was laid out in a regular pattern. Brude soon learned that Roman army camps were always laid out the same way so that it was easy for the soldiers to find their way around. Lucius, as a tribune, had a large room to himself in one of the barrack blocks, while Brude had to share a dormitory at one end of the officers’ quarters with the other freedmen and slaves.
In practice, his duties were light. He simply had to be available to attend to Lucius when called upon. He polished the young man’s breastplate and helmet, tended the horses, although he usually left that to the camp’s experts, and sometimes fetched light meals from the kitchens when Lucius was not dining with the legate.
The camp housed around three thousand men, although it was capable of holding an entire legion. Some men were permanently out on detachment, others might be building roads, bridges or new buildings while those based in the camp could be out on patrol. The legion was never up to full strength anyway due to illness or to men who died or retired not being replaced straight away.
Brude, as a freedman servant to an officer, was in an unusual position of being one of the few civilians allowed inside the legionary fort. He was, though, subject to military discipline so he was careful not to infringe any rules for he quickly learned that the discipline in the army was extremely harsh. Men were flogged or beaten for even relatively minor misdemeanours.
As legionaries, the soldiers were Roman citizensmen, although not all were from Italy. There were men from all over the empire: Hispania, Africa, Syria and even a handful from Britannia. They served for twenty years plus another five as veterans on light duties. At the end of their service they could expect either a plot of land of their own or, more likely, a cash sum. The soldiers were well paid because the emperor, whose authority relied on the power of the legions to keep him in his exalted position, knew that he had to keep them happy. For the soldiers, though, the life was hard. They trained most days, not the brutal training of the gladiatorial schools that Brude was used to, but almost as hard none the less. These men were professional soldiers. Alone among the nations of the world, Rome kept a permanent standing army. While other people would raise an army of conscripts from their farmers in time of need, Rome always had thousands of soldiers available. While the warrior elite of German tribes, or even the Pritani of Brude’s homeland, spent their days hunting and feasting, the Roman soldiers trained for war. They were drilled daily by the centurions, not as individuals the way Brude had learned to fight in the arena but as a unit, each man protecting his neighbours, all moving forward at the same time, supporting each other. It was the difference, Brude realised, between being a warrior and being a soldier. The Romans did not play at war. Their tactics were scarcely subtle but they were deadly and effective. “You know what they say,” Lucius told him, one evening after a particularly harsh battle drill. “Our exercises are bloodless battles so that our battles are bloody exercises.”
In addition to the legionaries, the Romans used auxiliaries, men from allied or subject states who were not Roman citizens. In equipment and weapons, they were almost indistinguishable from the legionaries and they were commanded by experienced Roman centurions. The reward for an auxiliary who survived to retirement was full Roman citizenship, so there was rarely a shortage of recruits, even though their pay was not as good as that of the legionaries. The auxiliaries also provided the Roman army with cavalry. There were few of them in the headquarters camp but, in total, Tertius commanded as many auxiliary troops as legionaries.
Brude spent a lot of his time at the infirmary. The Romans had some soldiers who were trained in ways of helping wounded colleagues, and who could give first aid, which might allow the soldiers to survive long enough to be taken to where the surgeons could operate on them. Some of the medical orderlies were veterans who had served their twenty years and were working out their final five years of service before their discharge. But even in times of relative quiet, the infirmary was understaffed, so the surgeons were grateful for Brude’s help, quietly turning a blind eye to his non-military status. He was also able to use the camp’s bathhouse, although only at specific times of the day. It was fairly basic but still enjoyable.
Inevitably, a small town had sprung up around the fort, where the soldiers could find all sorts of goods and services which the camp did not supply. Many of them also had families there. Tehnically, soldiers were not allowed to marry while in service but unofficial marriages and children could not be stopped so the Romans tended to pay no attention, as long as it did not affect discipline. The children, if they were boys, might very well grow up to become soldiers themselves as they rarely knew any other life. For the Romans, a supply of potential recruits was always worthwhile.
Brude was surprised to find that he enjoyed life with the army. The soldiers were hard men who could be difficult to get along with but once they accepted him, he could sense the camaraderie among them. His time in the infirmary made sure that he did get along with them as he always made a point of treating the patients well and sneaking in some extra rations for them when he could.
Lucius, on the contrary, had a hard time at fir
st. Tertius was a tough old man who drove his tribunes hard. Lucius was usually exhausted by the time evening came as he struggled to get to grips with the demands of military life. Still, he soon began to get the hang of things and, thanks to the months of training with Brude, he impressed both his fellow officers and the men with his stamina and his skill with a sword. Now he was learning tactics, logistics and the basics of engineering. Brude learned with him, for the young man would stay awake at nights going over things, using Brude as a sounding board to test his own knowledge. They both learned some new words as well, picking up the odd word or phrase from the native Germans who lived in the town.
They discovered that Tertius was an African, a friend of the emperor from the city of Lepcis Magna. The legate often lapsed into his native Punic when he was annoyed, which was quite often. The emperor, being from Africa himself, had placed many of his friends and countrymen in positions of authority, because no emperor wanted men he could not trust in charge of large armed forces. Too many emperors had lost their thrones that way in the past.
The province was generally quiet, which suited most of the soldiers. They drilled, they patrolled and they built or repaired buildings and roads but they rarely had any need to fight. Lucius had all summer to learn the ways of the camp and, after a few months, he had grown used to the life. Brude was still trying to read the scrolls Cleon had given him, although he often had to ask Lucius for help with some of the more obscure words. He eventually finished the Iliad and argued with Lucius over who was the better man, Achilles or Hector.
“Achilles was the greatest warrior,” Lucius insisted. “I thought you, as a gladiator, would relate to that.” Like many Romans, he firmly believed that gladiators were fortunate to be able to prove themselves in battle or meet a glorious end trying to win in the arena.
In the Shadow of the Wall Page 27
