Legionary

by Hector Miller

Marcus scoffed and said: “I bet he is looking forward to the chests of gold he will be receiving.”

  He looked at me and said: “The Goths are growing in power. They have to be destroyed before it is too late.”

  “I agree, Marcus. But I sense that the emperor is cautious. He has many enemies in Rome and the senate despises his barbarian heritage. Should he campaign against the Goths, his empire might be usurped during his absence. He views the senate as a more dangerous enemy than the Goths.”

  We walked together for a while and Marcus replied: “I tend to agree with him. The most immediate threat is from within.”

  Chapter 25 – Discontent

  My first duty, after reporting to the emperor, was to announce my return to Hostilius.

  I arrived at his quarters where his secretary waved me through without even looking up from the document he was reading.

  Hostilius was seated behind his desk, sipping on watered wine while studying the writing on a wax tablet. A deep frown creased his forehead and from previous experience I knew that he was frustrated.

  I saluted and announced myself.

  “At ease Domitius”, he said, “pour yourself some wine”, and he pointed to a flask and a cup upon a low table.

  “I am not surprised to see you back in one piece. Did you have the pleasure of killing many of the Goth bastards?”

  “Only one, Primus Pilus, but he was as big as two men”, I said and grinned.

  Hostilius stood and clasped my arm. “It is good to have you back centurion. I need all the good officers I can get with things being as they are.”

  It was my turn to frown.

  “Being as they are?” I asked.

  He slumped into his chair, sighed wearily, and gestured for me to take a seat.

  “Centurion, let me tell you a story.

  Three years ago a coalition of German and Scythian tribes crossed the Rhine, breached our border defences and sacked Roman lands. Severus Alexander, the previous emperor assembled a massive army to drive the bastards out of our territory.

  The army consisted of eight legions and we managed to drive the barbarians back across the limes. They escaped with all their plunder because we never fought a pitched battle. A few minor skirmishes but nothing major.

  Severus was no soldier, but he was the emperor and we endured him. Many of the men lost family when the barbarians engaged in their killing spree. The legionaries were hungry for blood and revenge. Their purses would be filled by the spoils of war.

  Then Severus decided to rather pay off the barbarians.

  His generals tried in vain to persuade him to pursue the bastards across the river, like we all wanted to. We knew that the only way to achieve lasting peace was to crush them once and for all.

  In the end, he valued his mother’s advice more than that of the generals.”

  “It started with one or two voices of discontent. Men openly speaking out against the cowardice of the emperor. Severus had them crucified.”

  “Within days the discontent grew like a malignant tumour within the Legion and it reached a tipping point. The next evening, Severus and his mother were dead. Murdered by the men of the Twenty Second Legion.”

  “They reasoned that they had to remove him, because his planned payoff of the Germans reeked of cowardice and incompetence.”

  “Of course, that is all bullshit. It is all about the money and exacting revenge for his harshness.”

  “The soldiers are willing to endure the severity of emperors if their pockets are lined with gold and plunder. With empty pockets they soon find a reason to become discontent.”

  Hostilius paused to drink deeply from his cup.

  “While you were away, the emperor crucified a soldier for spreading discontent.”

  “It all seems too familiar. The stares, the murmurs. Like a ghost within the camp, not easy to come to grips with and eradicate.”

  “It gives me the creeps, Domitius. Rome cannot afford a repeat of what happened three years ago.”

  He continued: “The situation is worsened by the pretty boy son of the emperor, strutting around as if he owns the place. Maximinus shows the necessary respect to his officers, but that little peacock wipes his arse on the likes of you and me.”

  Hostilius breathed deeply to calm himself and continued: “Our job is to keep the men calm in spite of the issues. Your century respects you and most owe their lives to you. And last but not least, they know you are a killer. Only a fool antagonises a killer.”

  I joined my century a short while later and immediately met with my optio, Didius Castus, who barely managed to hide his relief at my return.

  I shared my concerns with him and enquired about the morale of the century.

  There had been no specific issues or any breach of discipline, but he shared the concerns of Hostilius.

  It was nearly dusk and I decided to join my old contubernium to gauge the mood in the camp.

  I arranged some or other urgent duty for the rest of their tent party and joined Ursa, Silentus and Pumilio around the fire.

  They all came to attention when I arrived, but I waved it away. They walked over to me and clasped my arm in turn.

  Pumilio was the first to speak.

  “Did you kill ‘em all, or did you leave some for us?”

  I grinned and said: “I’m sorry friends, I had to kill them all, but I did bring you gifts.”

  I threw them each a purse with ten gold coins.

  “It’s a present from the Goths, make no mention of it.”

  I produced an amphorae of an excellent vintage of red and Ursa filled four cups in a flash.

  Ursa raised his cup, took a deep swallow and smacked his lips: “We sure missed you, Centurion Umbra.”

  Silentus rolled his eyes but Pumilio replied in a serious tone: “We are glad to see you. Things aren’t all good and proper as they should be.”

  He drank, leaned in close and continued in a low whisper: “It’s no secret that I’m not fond of the Thracian, but some men are spreadin’ real bad rumours and stuff. They say that he is on the side of them barbarians, given the fact that his parents were barbarians. That’s the real reason he’s paying ‘em off with our money.”

  “And what do you think?” I asked.

  Ursa said: “We think that you should get rid of the shit stirrer before the Thracian has the century decimated. That’s what we think.”

  Pumilio continued: “If they get rid of the Thracian, we will just get another one who might be worse. I say we keep what we’ve got. At least this one’s a soldier.”

  Silentus nodded his agreement.

  They gave me the name of the trouble maker without me asking.

  I am not a man plagued by procrastination. On the contrary, I may be accused of acting without enough thought. Yet that evening I had no immediate answer to the problem.

  I considered to just hand the name to Hostilius, but that would surely have resulted in another crucifixion, which would have helped the cause of the rebels.

  I reclined on my bed and sipped on some red wine, trusting that a solution would present itself.

  I sorely missed the advice of my mentor, Cai, but his absence could not be helped.

  I must have dozed off. I heard Cai telling me: “Use the hand of enemy to catch snake.”

  Waking with a jolt, I knew exactly what to do.

  As Cai was not with me, I rose early to prepare breakfast. I chopped up some smoked pork and mixed it with onions before frying it in olive oil. I wolfed it down with the previous day’s bread and cheese. Just to be on the safe side, I poured myself half a cup of the leftover wine and diluted it with water. Then I set off to find my accomplice, Hostilius.

  The Primus Pilus listened to my plan without interrupting. The frown getting deeper and a scowl appearing closer to the conclusion.

  “Domitius, my answer to anybody else would simply be a ‘no’.” He sighed and continued: “But by now I know you well enough to believe that you could actually pull
it off. Tell me what to do.”

  We went through the normal duties of the day and by late afternoon I made my way to the area outside the camp dedicated to weapons training. I wore no armour, but only a heavy cloak over my tunic as the evening chill was already in the air.

  I sat on a stool under a wooden pergola constructed for the benefit of officers overseeing the training.

  Ten paces in front of me I had positioned a small, low table. Two items lay on top of it. A purse and a dagger.

  I waited patiently and soon a single legionary appeared, carrying a bundle of wooden swords over his shoulder.

  He was from my century and I recognised him immediately as the soldier I had been waiting for.

  I hailed him: “Come join me, Titinius.”

  Titinius looked around suspiciously and walked over in my direction. He dropped the bundle and came to a halt next to the low table and saluted.

  “At ease Titinius. I have been waiting for you.”

  Again, he looked to the right and left and even turned his head around to make sure we were alone.

  “Relax legionary, we are alone. I have a proposal for you.”

  While I was speaking, I loosened my belt which held my gladius and my dagger and threw it into the dust, a couple of paces distant.

  “Titinius, I want you to make a choice.”

  He reached out and emptied the contents of the purse into his hand. It contained twenty gold coins. A fortune for a legionary. He replaced the coins in the purse and tied it to his belt. He then reached out and picked up the wickedly sharp dagger.

  Grinning, he advanced on me. I stood with my hands behind my back.

  “Centurion, somehow you must have found out. I cannot say that I dislike you, but you have to die now that you know”, he said.

  He continued: “I have killed more men with a dagger than I care to remember. I know you are good with a sword, but empty handed, no man can defeat me. Nothing personal, sir, but you have to die.”

  By the way he held the dagger, I realized that he knew his business, but I have trained with the Huns and with Cai, the warrior priest from Serica.

  I waited with my right fist clenched behind my back. He came at me with a combination of stabs and cuts. At the last moment, I deflected his wrist, stepped in, and slammed the side of my fist against his temple.

  I patiently waited for him to regain consciousness.

  After a while he started moaning and sat up, again glancing to his left and right, as if searching for my hidden accomplice. He stood and inspected himself for injuries, but found none.

  “Do you know what they call me, Titinius?”

  He looked right and left again and said: “They call you Umbra, the Ghost. They say you can traverse the lands of the barbarians without being seen, because you transform into a spirit.”

  I had placed the dagger and the purse back on the table and he stared at it, but did not move to touch either.

  “Legionary, I will give you a choice. Take the dagger and you will die. If you choose the purse, you will work for me and be well paid.”

  “How do you know I will not take the purse and disappear?” he asked.

  I replied: “You may well do that. But I will find you and you will regret it. If you break our agreement I will seek you out, even if you sail to Hyperborea.”

  He nodded, convinced, and said: “What do I have to do?”

  I pointed to a chair and said: “Sit and I will explain.”

  He picked up the purse and tied it to his belt. Again he picked up the dagger, this time by the blade, and handed it to me hilt first before taking his seat.

  “Pay close attention Titinius, this is what I need you to do.”

  Chapter 26 – Meeting

  At first, we heard only the rumours.

  Bees had made a nest in the Praetorium and did not sting the emperor when he entered.

  During a bad storm in the night, thunder could be heard, but no lightning could be seen.

  The emperor dropped his mirror, but it did not shatter.

  Thirteen birds were seen sitting on the tent of the emperor and they did not take flight when disturbed.

  I sat in Hostilius’s tent. He was staring at me, shaking his head. “The rumours of the omens have spread through the army like a wildfire. The men are convinced that the gods are on the side of the emperor.”

  “Domitius, have you ever considered becoming a priest? Nothing about you will ever surprise me again. Even if you volunteered to read the entrails prior to the next battle, I would just accept it as one of your talents I was unaware of.”

  He looked around and lowered his voice. “I received reports of the disappearance of three men in the cohorts earlier today. I assume it had cost you sixty gold pieces?”

  I nodded and he handed me a folded piece of parchment. “Discharge with full honours for Titinius. I hope I never have to lay eyes on the bastard again. If the Thracian knew he worked for the senate, he would have been on a cross rather than receiving a discharge.”

  He shrugged: “Anyway, it seems like all is well for the time being.”

  Two days passed before we received word that the Gothic delegation had arrived on the northern bank of the Danube.

  My plan was to keep a low profile and to let the meeting come and go without being involved.

  The emperor and his bodyguards met with the iudex and apparently all went well. Argunt, like Maximinus Thrax, was a barbarian and it did not come as a surprise to me when I heard that the deal had been made.

  I breathed a sigh of relief, convinced that I had been able to sidestep any involvement. That was until Marcus arrived.

  He wore his broad smile and said: “Get ready for the party of the year, Lucius. We have been invited to join the emperor in celebrating the peace treaty with the Thervingi Goths.”

  I later realised that he had made a factual error. We were actually guests of honour of the Thervingi. But it matters not. We arrived at the Praetorium at the intended hour kitted out in full uniform.

  Cornelius Carbo, the veteran senior tribune of the legion, met us outside the tent. He explained that we would be riding at the back of the procession that would go to the feast, set up on the island in the Danube.

  The emperor and his retinue entered the tent set up for the occasion. A servant of the emperor stopped us at the door and called over his Gothic counterpart. To our surprise he led us to the Gothic side of the tent. We were shown to our seats and as I sat down, I saw a familiar face staring back from the other side of the table.

  It was Kniva.

  We ate and drank too much, but it was thoroughly enjoyable.

  At some point in time Kniva, who was seated next to me, nudged me with his elbow and said: “Argunt is calling for you and Marcus to stand.”

  I poked Marcus with my elbow and we stood, not knowing what to expect.

  Argunt said some words and the Goths cheered us aloud, drinking to our good fortune.

  I made to take my seat again, but Kniva stopped me by shaking his head imperceptibly. He whispered and grinned: “You have to wait until the skald has finished his tale.” He winked: “It is a great honour bestowed on you by the iudex.”

  Marcus and I stood like idiots while the poet of the Goths sang our praises. The only benefit was that the Romans did not understand a word, although the emperor appraised us with an enquiring glance.

  After what felt like eternity, we retook our seats and a smiling Kniva said: “It is a story about how you slew the giant Hygelac.”

  “After you left, Argunt uncovered Hygelac’s scheme of usurping his throne. He is grateful to us and he even singled me out as his adopted heir.”

  During the second watch of the next day, I was summoned to the Praetorium. Marcus was already waiting for me outside. He looked decidedly nervous.

  He sighed and said: “Apparently the emperor speaks the Gothic tongue and he wants to discuss certain things with us.”

  We were ushered into the presence of the em
peror by his bodyguards. Maximinus Thrax was in discussion with his son, both seated at a table.

  Marcus and I came to attention.

  Father and son finished their muted conversation. The emperor stood with his hands clenched behind his back. I could see from the expression on his face that he was angry. Extremely angry.

  “I am invited to a feast by the enemies of Rome. Guess who I find in the seats of honour of these enemies? My own men, whom I trust!”

  His voice gained in volume as he continued: “To add insult to injury, the poets of my enemies sing the praises of these so called ‘loyal soldiers’. They tell of victories in single combat. Things I know nothing about. Things that have not been mentioned in the official report.”

  His loud booming voice now took another step up and he yelled: “Do you take me for a fool? A stupid, big barbarian fool. Is that who you think I am?”

  I had the wisdom to realise that any answer offered would have been the wrong one. Like Marcus, I focused my gaze on an imaginary spot somewhere in front of me, not daring to meet Maximinus’s gaze.

  From the corner of my eye I did notice his son slouch in his chair, having difficulty hiding his pleasure at his father’s outrage and our discomfort.

  Maximinus kicked at a chair and the unfortunate piece of furniture flew across the room. It collapsed into pieces of kindling.

  At that moment, Cornelius Carbo entered the tent. The Thracian turned to Carbo and said: “Take them away. They are to be executed in the morning.”

  Looking back I have often asked myself why, at that point, I did not kill everyone in the room except Marcus, of course. It certainly crossed my mind. With ease I could have disarmed a bodyguard and used his weapon to slay the rest. The fact is I had not.

  Part of me attributed it to the shock caused by our sudden reversal of fortune. But the version I decided on is that it was not the will of the gods.

  Chapter 27 – Civilians (Sept 237 AD)

  From the day of birth, death is a certainty. Any day could be the last day of one’s life. This fact does generally not bother people.

  It is strange how knowing the time and date of one’s death changes this, especially when the time and date is the following morning.