Veterans of Rome (Book 9 of the Veteran of Rome Series)

by William Kelso

  “This is madness,” he muttered. “What hope do we have against the full force of the law and the power of the War Party?” Anxiously Cunomoltus looked up at Marcus. “Brother, this is not like earlier, when Priscinus tried to steal our farm from us. These people Marcus, these people who have become our enemies; they are vastly more powerful and dangerous than Priscinus ever was. How can we fight them? It’s madness. It’s suicide.”

  “What about my children?” Dylis snapped. “Whatever happens the children must survive. You cannot expect them to fight, Marcus.”

  Marcus turned to gaze at the twins and Dylis’s teenage son, all three of whom were anxiously watching him. For a moment Marcus remained silent, his face hard and grim.

  “They are no longer children. They are old enough to face our enemies,” Marcus said at last. “The girls are old enough to be married and the boy can wield a sword. I have trained him myself. He is ready. The time has come for them to grow up and see what the world is really like. How else are they going to survive out there? No, they shall stay here with us. I am not sending them away. We must stick together.”

  A tense and oppressive silence descended on the hall as Marcus slowly turned to look at each member of his family in turn. Then slowly Jowan got to feet, crossed the room and stooped to kiss Marcus’s hand.

  “I am with you Marcus,” Jowan said with a little respectful nod. “You are the head of this house. You and Corbulo have always been wise. You have always made the right decisions. I shall do what you decide.”

  One by one the others silently rose and did the same, kissing Marcus’s hand and, as they returned to their places the silence in the dining hall seemed to lighten.

  “Great so now what?” Cunomoltus growled unhappily. “What do we do now?”

  “We need to find Armin and retrieve our gold,” Marcus replied quickly, “that’s our first task. We will start tomorrow, and I am going to need you all to tell me everything you know about that boy.”

  ***

  Alone in their bedroom Kyna came up behind Marcus and gently reached out to grasp his shaking left arm. For a moment the two of them stood together, not speaking.

  “It’s getting worse,” Marcus said, as he felt his wife press her face into his back. “The shaking. It’s getting worse. I can’t control it.”

  “It doesn’t matter. You are still the same man whom I knew all those years ago,” Kyna replied in a quiet voice, as she reached up on her toes to fondly kiss his neck. “You still have the same spirit, the same courage, husband. It is what I love about you. You are a rock that stands in the ocean and endures.”

  Marcus grunted as he felt Kyna press herself into his back.

  “I will be by your side come what may,” Kyna whispered. “You and I, Marcus shall share the same fate. I shall not be parted from you. Cunomoltus may have his doubts but I do not. I shall stand at your side and defend this house, for you are right, without this place we have nothing; we are nothing. We will stand and fight. I want you to know that I will be there for you. I will be there for all of us.”

  Slowly Marcus turned around and fondly looked down at his wife.

  “Listen, do you remember all those years ago,” he said softly, “when here on Vectis I made a contract with the immortals. The agreement I made with the gods. If they were to keep Fergus alive and out of harm’s way, I would do what the gods commanded?” Slowly Marcus shook his head. “They may demand my life Kyna and if they do I shall willingly give it to them, but you have made no such promise. You must survive Kyna. You must survive for Fergus and his family. They are the future. They will need you. The family will need you. When the time comes I do not want you to share my fate. I want you to live.”

  Chapter Fifteen – Petrus Delivers

  The forest was quiet and peaceful as Marcus and Petrus strode on down the narrow, overgrown and twisting path back towards the villa. It was late in the afternoon and the fine summer weather bathed the wood in light and warmth. In between them, resting on their shoulders, hanging suspended from a wooden pole, was the carcass of a small deer. Blood from the arrow wound where Petrus had brought down the animal had stained its light fur and its large sightless eyes were staring at the ground. A week had passed since Marcus and Kyna had returned to Vectis. Leading the way, Petrus turned his head to give Marcus a little triumphant grin. The hunt had been a success and tonight the family would dine on fresh wild meat.

  “So, your Christian god does not mind you killing animals. I thought the basis for your religion was love, love of all things.” Marcus said as he noticed the small wooden cross hanging from around Petrus’s neck.

  “A man still has to eat,” Petrus replied with a shrug, as he led the way through the forest. “But I do not eat pigs. They are filthy animals. They are not like this noble beast of the forest. Tonight Marcus, at dinner, a word of thanks from you for my highly developed hunting skills would be a nice touch. I am the best hunter on Vectis, but no one ever thanks me for what I bring to the table.”

  “I wonder why,” Marcus said sourly, as he followed Petrus through the wood. “Maybe it’s because you are never on the estate to help with the farm work. Maybe it’s because people think you are lazy. Tell me, how much time do you spend hunting. From what I hear you also like to get drunk in the taverns on the mainland?”

  “There is nothing wrong with liking a drink,” Petrus said defensively. “But I do my share of the work. The family benefits from what I bring back and it was I who helped Esther disappear or have you already forgotten our little trip to Rome.”

  Marcus grunted as he remembered the fraught journey to Rome with Petrus and Esther, the Christian slave who together with Dylis, had murdered her master Priscinus and who needed to disappear before Priscinus’s vengeful family could catch her. It had been on that visit to the eternal city that Marcus had made friends with Paulinus and had become re-acquainted with Lady Claudia.

  “What about Armin?” Marcus said, abruptly changing the subject. “Did you ever take him hunting?”

  “Armin,” Petrus exclaimed with a frown. “He was a strange boy. Bit of a baby. Didn’t say much. Can’t say I ever took him hunting. He spent a lot of time in the stables. He loved the horses and he seemed to pine after his sister’s company. Sometimes I would find him out in the forest crying his eyes out. It was strange.”

  “So, you never spoke to him?” Marcus asked in a disappointed voice.

  “Not really,” Petrus shrugged. Quickly he raised a finger in the air as he seemed to suddenly remember something. “No, that’s not correct,” Petrus said hastily. “There was this one time, about eighteen months ago. I was heading to Reginorum on the mainland. A horse show was taking place in town, which I really wanted to see and so, on the spur of the moment, I invited Armin along for I knew he liked horses.”

  So, the two of us come walking into town and of course the first people we have to run into are a couple of priests from the temple of Neptune and Minerva.” Petrus sighed as he continued down the forest path, clutching the wooden pole that protruded over his shoulder and upon which hung the carcass of the young deer. “You know the history between me and those priests. Scumbags all of them. Give them a copper coin and they will say that Minerva will grant you wisdom. Give them a silver coin and they will say Minerva is your best friend. It’s pathetic, a fraud. Anyway, so, one thing leads to another and words are exchanged between me and them. Harsh words. But we don’t come to blows. The priests don’t see me as a threat because I am the only Christian in these parts. I think they see me more as a freak. So eventually they leave me alone and Armin and I go on to watch the horse show.”

  Up in front of Marcus, Petrus suddenly seemed to grow agitated.

  “But I am not afraid of those priests,” Petrus snapped. “I really am not. So, after the show I decide to take Armin to the tavern where I know those priests like to drink. Just to show them that I am not afraid of them. All goes well.”

  Suddenly Petrus paused and behind him
Marcus frowned, as the two of them came to an abrupt halt in the forest.

  “I know he is only eighteen,” Petrus exclaimed, “but I give Armin one cup of wine and it gets him pissed. He starts talking. After one cup of wine! Extraordinary. Have you ever heard of that before? Anyway, we start talking, the first and only proper conversation that I have had with that boy and he tells me that he misses his father and sister. Then he tells me that he has extended family amongst the Batavian community living around Ulpia Noviomagus Batavorum. He knows where they live. He knows their names. Armin tells me to my face that he has never met his extended family but that he would like to see them one day.”

  On the forest path Petrus turned to look back at Marcus. “Did you know that Armin and Elsa had kin across the sea in the Rhine delta?”

  ***

  Out near the golden wheat fields the slaves had paused in their work of clearing a thorny and overgrown hedge and were sitting together under the shade of an oak, resting, drinking and eating their midday meal. Their wide brimmed sunhats and simple white tunics gave them some relieve from the scorching heat. Around the slaves an array of pick-axes, hayfork’s, knives, spades and other agricultural tools lay discarded in the grass. A little further away at the edge of the wheat fields, the family too had gathered together and were sitting quietly in a circle in the grass, eating their lunch of bread, goats cheese, honey, slices of cold mutton washed down with water, wine, milk and mead. They were all there, Dylis, Jowan, Kyna, Cunomoltus, Petrus, the twins and Dylis’s teenage son, together with the three hunting dogs. It was just after noon and in the clear blue skies the sun shone supreme. Jowan and Cunomoltus were wearing sunhats like those worn by the slaves, but the women had opted for fine, expensive-looking linen umbrella’s too shade themselves from the fierce glare of the sun. Petrus lay stretched out in the grass, his eyes closed as if he was asleep whilst Cunomoltus busied himself with feeding the dogs small pieces of offal. No one, apart from Kyna and Dylis, seemed to be paying any attention to Marcus as he spoke.

  “Yesterday Petrus told me something very interesting,” Marcus said as he sat cross- legged in the grass speaking to his family in a calm, clear voice. “It seems that Elsa and Armin still have family living near Ulpia Noviomagus Batavorum. I didn’t know about this. Elsa and Armin’s father was called Lucius. That was his Roman name, but he was a Batavian officer. I knew him well. We served together in the Second Batavian Auxiliary Cohort, in the north and in Caledonia too. So, it is quite possible that Armin still has family amongst the Batavians on the Rhine frontier. It’s possible that this is where Armin has gone. It’s possible he fled across the sea and has sought refuge amongst his extended kin. I think Armin must have had help preparing his plan. That gold is heavy for a start and it would be highly dangerous for a boy of his age to travel alone with such a fortune. So, it’s possible Elsa instructed her extended family to help her brother. It makes sense. The boy as I recall, was not the smartest spark and Petrus says Armin told him that he was keen to see his extended family.”

  “You killed him, didn’t you?” Petrus called out with a lazy yawn as he lay stretched out in the grass sunning himself. “You and Cunomoltus murdered Lucius didn’t you.”

  Marcus’s face darkened as he turned to glare at Petrus. For a moment Marcus remained silent, as next to him the twins lowered their eyes and nervously picked at their fingernails. Slowly Marcus reached out for a cup of water and downed it. There were a dozen retorts and justifications he could offer to Petrus, but he sensed that Petrus, being his usual rebellious and antagonistic self, was just trying to annoy him.

  “Where is Ulpia Noviomagus Batavorum?” Kyna asked helpfully breaking the awkward silence.

  “It’s across the German sea in the province of Lower Germania,” Marcus growled, giving Petrus an annoyed look. “The coast is maybe three days sail from here with a favourable wind. After that it’s a two-day ride on horseback. Batavorum is the capital city of the Batavians. It’s their Oppidum. Their city where they come together to trade and do business together. It’s also the main place where the army recruits for the Batavian cohorts. The town lies on the banks of the Rhine.”

  “I am just saying,” Petrus interrupted as he lay in the grass with his eyes closed. “Because it was I and your father Corbulo who killed Lucius’s brother in Viriconium, when we were on the run from the anti-Christian pogroms in Londinium. Bestia I believe he was called. A deserter from your regiment. A right turd of a man. I was only twelve, but I remember that day like it was yesterday. Corbulo had a bitter ongoing feud with Bestia, something to do with what happened during his attempt to find and rescue you in Caledonia.”

  Petrus paused, opened his eyes and sat up leaning on his elbows, his wooden cross dangling from his neck as he turned to gaze at Marcus.

  “So, I think I can see why Elsa and Armin don’t particularly like us. We killed both their father and her uncle. That is enough spilt blood for anyone to develop a life-long hatred. Did it never occur to you Marcus that Elsa or Armin might seek revenge one day?”

  “Shut up,” Marcus growled.

  “Yeah, shut up Petrus,” Cunomoltus snapped as he threw a piece of offal at Petrus.

  “So, what do you plan to do Marcus?” Dylis interrupted.

  “I think Armin has fled across the sea to be with his extended family,” Marcus snapped. “So, the plan is simple. Indus and I will go to Batavorum, find him and retrieve our gold. I still have some contacts amongst the Batavian community who will be able to help. We need that gold. We shall leave tomorrow. The rest of you shall remain here.”

  “How long will you be gone for?” Kyna said her face suddenly looking anxious. “And what happens if Nigrinus or his men come here looking for us? What should we do then?”

  “We may be gone for a month, I don’t know - as long as it takes.” Marcus replied grimly, as he turned to look at the anxious faces peering back at him. “As for Nigrinus, we will have to take the risk and trust that he has still not got his act together. Nigrinus is an important and powerful man. He is one of the few who has access to the imperial postal system. If my capture was his top concern, his men would already have found us by now. It takes only nine days for a message to leave Rome and reach Londinium. But I suspect he has other more important and weightier issues to deal with right now. He is an important man, but he is also busy and short on time. He is, after all, trying to become the next emperor. That is far more important to him than going after me.”

  “So, you are basing our wellbeing and survival on the idea that our great enemy is too busy to come after us right now” Petrus said in a sarcastic voice. “That is an even flimsier excuse than that which Marvina gave me when she refused to marry me. Do you honestly believe that Nigrinus will do nothing? Don’t you think he will just send one of his men to Britannia with orders to find us.”

  “We need to retrieve that gold,” Marcus hissed angrily. “I know the risks, I understand the dangers, but we have no choice. This must be done. Without that gold we stand no chance at all. If Nigrinus sends men to find us, you will tell them that you have not seen or heard from me.”

  For a moment Petrus gazed at Marcus in silence.

  “So, you do have a plan on getting us out of this mess?” Petrus said at last, as a little conspiratorial smile appeared on his lips.

  “Of-course I have a fucking plan,” Marcus bellowed. “But I need that gold for it to work.”

  Angrily and hastily Marcus forced himself to look down at the grass. He had allowed Petrus to make him lose his temper. For a moment the picnic remained silent.

  “Marcus,” Jowan said at last in a calm voice. “Should I start to construct defences around the house like those we built against Priscinus?”

  “No, that will not be necessary,” Marcus said in a calmer voice, as he slowly shook his head. “If all goes well the gold that Fergus brought back from Dacia will be our walls. Nothing and nobody is impregnable to money. That is our best chance and I still have a f
riend or two in Rome. I want you all to carry on as before. Indus and I will return with Armin and the gold.”

  “Don’t forget Fergus,” Kyna said in a hopeful voice, as she turned to look at the faces around her. “We sent Aledus, Fergus’s army friend to find him in Antioch and tell him about our situation. Fergus will help us. I know he will. I have faith in him. I have prayed to the gods. Fergus will come to our rescue.”

  “If you say so,” Petrus said, in a weary dispirited voice, as he lay back down in the grass and closed his eyes.

  “Marcus,” Dylis said suddenly. His sister got to her feet. “Before you leave you should visit Efa’s grave and pay your respects. Let’s go there now.”

  Marcus frowned but said nothing as he got to his feet and started to follow Dylis across the grass. Catching up with his sister, Marcus glanced at her. The two of them were alone as they made their way towards a solitary carved and decorated headstone that stood on a small rise shaded by an oak tree.

  “Kyna is worried about you,” Dylis said in a business-like voice as the two of them strode towards the headstone. “She is nervous Marcus. She knows what happened to Corbulo. She knows how he died. She thinks that you are planning to go the same way as our father. You should speak to her.”

  Marcus sighed and looked away.

  “All will turn out well in the end,” Marcus replied.

  Chapter Sixteen – The Watch on the Lower Rhine

  Onboard the merchant ship, the two old veteran warriors, both well into their fifties, their brown riding cloaks flapping around them in the breeze, stood gazing out at the wide, funnel shaped estuary where the Rhine ran into the German sea. Marcus’s old, crinkled, weather beaten face was as hard as granite. At Marcus’s side, Indus his stoic Batavian bodyguard, was also staring at the coastline. Hanging from their belts were sheathed short swords and army pugio knives and, slung over his broad shoulders, Indus was carrying a sturdy looking leather satchel, a hunting bow and a quiver filled with arrows. It was afternoon and in the overcast skies a fresh south western wind was blowing the small cargo vessel straight across the choppy sea, towards the Roman naval base of Batavorum Lugdunum. Further out on the grey sea, three warships from the Classis Germanica were heading northwards on patrol, their square sails bulging in the wind. Along the banks of the Rhine estuary, sandbanks and salt marshes lined the shoreline and to the north, amongst the sand dunes, emperor Caligula’s half completed and abandoned stone lighthouse stood alone - a forlorn construction amongst the natural splendour of the dunes. Marcus squinted as he gazed at the shore. Despite having served with the 2nd Batavian Auxiliary Cohort for twenty-three years he had never been to the ancestral homeland of the Batavians.