“It’s probably because he’s got that thing stuck in his face, sir,” said Lentus and stepped over to the injured man. When he tried to pull the end of the stylus out of his cheek, Atrexes screamed and fainted, bouncing his head off the floor with a dull thud.
“Thank you so much, Centurion Lentus, very helpful,” Quadratus told him sarcastically and looked at Otto. “Is it remotely possible that you speak Latin?”
Otto snarled and began to curse Atrexes in German.
“I thought not,” the legate continued. “To summarize, we have an incomprehensible slave who is now lying unconscious and a German who does not speak our language. I do not call that progress, gentlemen.”
He shouted for one of the clerks to fetch Prefect Aldermar and folded his arms, before glaring at Lucius.
“So, you brought this German into the camp, did you Tribune Longius? If you wanted a boy to keep you warm on the long winter nights you could have brought another slave from one of the brothels outside out stockade”.
. “No sir, it’s not like that sir…”
“What is it like then?”
“He surrendered to me at the village sir….”
“Germans don’t surrender,” Attius stated with absolute certainty. “I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong end of the stick this time, Tribune Longius.”
Lucius felt cornered between his legate’s disapproval and the centurion’s disbelief so he went on the attack.
“Well this one did, First Spear Centurion Attius,” he snapped.
“I see,” Attius said. “In my twenty years of service on the Rhine not one single, solitary German has ever surrendered to me but they drop their axes and put up their hands to you. What’s your secret?”
Lucius grew red in the face but before he could say something that everyone would regret, Aldermar strode in, saluted the legate and took in the scene. He nodded to Otto, looked at him appraisingly, greeted him in his own language and asked his name. They conversed for a minute or more.
“If you are ready prefect, yet again I must rely on you to act as translator and enlighten me, if you will,” Quadratus requested.
“Certainly sir, I already know some of it…”
“How?” asked the legate
“Amongst other things, because of what this young man,” Aldermar indicated Otto, “was roaring as he chased the slave up the Via Praetoria with every intention of removing his head. That is still his intention, by the way. A couple of my scouts heard and told me. You might like to know that all of my men want to cut this slave’s throat the first chance they get.”
“What crime did he commit to merit death in the eyes of our entire cavalry?” Quadratus asked.
“He tried to have sexual relations with the boy,” Aldermar replied.
“What just for trying to bugger him?” Attius demanded with a snort of laughter.
Aldermar looked uncomfortable and the colour rose in his face.
“Gods, he’s blushing!” Quadratus thought.
“You must understand, gentlemen, that Germans are an extremely moral people in such matters. No young man approaches a woman until he is over twenty years of age and the young women are equally chaste. As for practices such as Attius mentioned, any man found guilty of attempting to act in such a way would be bound hand and foot and his body flung into a bog to sink into ignominy.”
“Well, you learn something every day,” Attius said. “Good job they don’t apply that rule in Rome. It would be half-empty.”
“If this German lad is such a proud warrior, then why did he surrender to the tribune?” Lentus asked.
Aldermar lifted one eyebrow and briefly laughed.
“Ah yes, another misunderstanding,” Aldermar said and turned to Lucius. “Tribune Longius, did Otto… that’s his name by the way; it means “Prosperous” … did he lift his hands up to you, both palms pressed together?”
“Yes, he did.”
“And did you clasp them in your own?”
“Well, yes, he was surrendering you see…”
Aldermar shook his head.
“No, he was not…”
“Told you,” Attius interrupted; glad to have been proved right.
“…He was not surrendering,” Aldermar went on. “He was offering himself to you as your sworn companion. When you took his hands, you accepted him. Otto is now your liege man until death. He will defend you with his life; if you fall in battle, he will not leave the field alive. In return you must feed, shelter and arm him. He is of a noble line among his own people so you may not treat him like a servant although he will perform tasks he does not regard as demeaning. Congratulations, Tribune Longius, Otto has honoured you for as long as you both live. What I do not know, is why.”
“Well, Lucius, you really have given yourself a problem, haven’t you?” Quadratus chuckled. “Perhaps next time your legate says no loot and no captives you will hear and obey.”
“It is not entirely a bad thing, sir,” Aldermar told him. “My cavalrymen take the tribune’s actions in accepting Otto as an enormous compliment. He has gone up highly in their estimation and that reflects on every Roman officer in The Second Lucan,”
Quadratus instantly caught the implication of what he was being told. They all relied on the loyalty of the German auxiliary cavalry and especially the scouts. Anything which could reinforce that loyalty was to be gratefully accepted.
“You said you did not know what moved this…Otto, is it?” the legate enquired, noting Aldermar’s nod of agreement before continuing. “…to perform such an action. What can have decided him to commit himself to Tribune Longius in so formal a manner?”
Aldermar interrogated Otto who recounted the story of the wise woman and her prophecy. The Romans did not understand anything that was being said but they saw the prefect’s expression change and that he took an amulet he wore around his neck from under his tunic and kissed it. They began to be apprehensive.
Aldermar repeated the story. How a witch had looked into Otto’s future and seen that a man wearing black plumes would lead him to his destiny. Almost immediately afterwards, Lucius came to Otto’s village with black rooster tails on his helmet crest. It was beyond doubt that he was the man that the Fates had chosen to guide Otto on his life’s journey.
No-one dismissed the omen, no-one scoffed, and certainly, no-one laughed. Augurs and priests of Rome read the future in the livers of ritually slaughtered animals and in the flights of birds. An acceptable blood sacrifice could influence a man’s future for the better or could be forever ruined by a curse inscribed on a lead sheet, dipped in blood and then hidden where the victim would pass by it every day. They all knew with absolute conviction that what was said by those who had the second sight must be respected.
In living memory great Caesar himself had scorned a prophecy. Told not to leave his home on the day of the Ides of March, he had walked out into the street and seen the man who had warned him.
“The Ides of March are here, my friend,” he called, “and so am I!”
“Yes, Caesar, the day has come but it is not yet gone,” the seer replied.
Within half an hour, Rome’s greatest general lay bleeding to death at the foot of the statue of Pompeius Magnus, his former rival.
Aldermar’s words brought the dread of the supernatural upon on them to varying degrees. They made the sign to avoid evil and looked silently at Otto to see if there was some clue in his face to tell them why he had been singled out by whatever gods he worshipped.
Quadratus broke the mood. “Well, it seems, Tribune Longius that I cannot admonish you for bringing young Otto into my camp since you were acting in accordance with the will of some local god. We would not be wise to offend this unknown deity. However, your domestic affairs need to be put into good order and under the circumstances, I hesitate to intervene.”
Lucius looked down at Atrexes for a moment and prodded him with his toe. The unconscious man moaned and began to stir.
“The continued pres
ence of this man in the camp will be prejudicial to discipline. Centurion Lentus, I need the services of two legionaries,” Lucius said firmly.
Lentus shouted out the door and a pair of men trooped in. They had the old soldier’s shifty, “who, sir; me, sir?” look about them as they came to attention smartly and stared into the distance over the top of the centurion’s head.
“Tribune Longius has a job for you,” Lentus told them.
“Take this man,” Lucius said, indicating Atrexes, “and put him outside the gate. He is not to re-enter.”
They saluted and dragged him to his feet.
“Here, there’s something sticking in him, sir,” one of them said, gripped the protruding end of the stylus in his fist and yanking it as hard as he could. It came out with an audible crunch breaking one of the teeth that had been jamming it in on the way. Atrexes screamed and passed out again.
“What shall I do with it, sir?” the soldier asked holding out the bloody object.
Otto stepped forward and took it. He lifted the wounded man’s head and wiped the stylus clean on Atrexes’ hair before spitting in his face.
“He really bears a grudge, doesn’t he?” Attius remarked.
The fainting slave was hauled away to popular derision and thrown through the Porta Decumana. He crawled to the riverbank near the camp followers’ shantytown and tried to bathe his punctured cheek before passing out once more.
“I applaud your decision, Tribune Longius. Clerks! Get back to work and find an orderly to scrub this office. No stain will be left, understand?” said the legate and turned to the assembled officers. “That was all very diverting in a repulsive sort of way. We shall adjourn to my quarters and take a restorative cup of wine.”
“What about the German?” Lentus demanded.
“Aldermar, please tell him to go back to the tribune’s quarters and wait for him there.” Quadratus requested then turned to Lucius. “Either you must learn German or he must learn Latin, your choice.”
“One of the Roman farriers has been dealing with my men for so long he can get by in most German dialects. The tribune can borrow him as a part-time tutor.” Aldermar suggested.
“Excellent,” the legate agreed, “please see to it, and now our wine awaits us.”
And the wine flowed. Quadratus was a few days away from starting his long journey to Rome where he would spend the winter months with his family and friends and was in an expansive mood. His personal servants, guards and a cavalry unit would travel with him along with the legionaries and other officers granted leave. Once they reached the settled areas of southern Gaul, most of them would go their separate ways until recall the following March. Therefore, there was no point in hoarding his wine stores. Not that he drank too much, never forgetting the dignity of his rank.
Lucius was far from being a hardened drinker and two cups of wine were enough to overcome his normal reserve in front of his commanding officer and the centurions who were vastly more experienced than he was. He mentioned the oxen they had slaughtered for barbecuing and the horses they had used to carry the meat.
“Always a sound idea to supplement the men’s rations in the field, Lucius; what became of the horses?” Quadratus asked.
“I bought them in for remounts, sir.” Aldermar told him.
“So, you made a profit on the transaction, tribune,” the legate said with an edge to his voice.
“No sir,” Lentus replied. “Tribune Longius instructed me to add the money to the legion funeral club funds.”
Quadratus nodded.
“All in all, you seem to have done well, Tribune Lucius Taurius Longius but be careful of courting popularity among the legionaries. They may begin by liking you but in the end they will hold you in contempt. Not that I am criticizing the decisions you made, you understand. It is a general observation. Centurion Lentus, is there anything arising from the expedition to which you wish to draw my attention?”
“Well, sir, I was discussing things with First Spear Centurion Attius when all the nonsense broke out so we were interrupted. I think having our own missile troop turned out to be very useful. One of the legionaries stood out as a leader sir, Marcus Corvo. In the absence of us getting some proper archers and slingers, auxiliaries like, I was going to ask if we could do something to make it a bit more permanent,” said Lentus.
“What do you think?” the legate asked Attius.
“I’ve long had the idea that we need something along the lines Centurion Lentus suggests but it’s how to organize it….
“What about we form an additional century of skilled missile troops? They would act as normal infantry but have extra training so they could be deployed in their special role if necessary,” Lucius said.
“Think about it, Titus and take a look at this man Lentus recommends. If he has the qualities and he can read and write, appoint him to the centurionate to lead the unit. Let me know what you think by letter while I’m on leave. I was going to bring a few hundred or so recruits with me when I come back in the spring. If having our own archers and slingers is a viable, step, I can take that into account in selecting them. If we go ahead, I will want Tribune Longius to take oversight of the new unit and report directly to you in my absence.” Quadratus instructed.
“They’ll still have to be trained in all the basics,” Attius observed.
“Agreed. Well, young Lucius, what will you do over the winter without a personal attendant who can understand you?” said the legate, changing the subject.
The tribune looked moodily down into his half-empty wine cup.
“Fuck knows,” he replied, half to himself.
The others burst into laughter. Lucius looked around at them blankly, not understanding what was so funny.
Quadratus wiped the corner of one eye and looked at the embarrassed youngster.
“Oh Lucius; one mission over the Rhine and you’ve come back a foul-mouthed old sweat!”
While the officers were holding their informal conference, two German cavalrymen passed out of the camp on foot. They were looking for Atrexes and they found him easily enough, sitting on the riverbank. The bleeding had stopped and his pain had subsided to a fierce throbbing in his cheek and jaw but he was in despair. How had this come about? If the boy had not wanted his attentions, he only had to say so. Why all the violence over something so commonplace? He doubted whether he could survive in this alien place. He had been born a slave in the household of the tribune’s father and had known no other way of living. Perhaps there would be some business owner among the camp-followers who needed an educated servant. A tiny glimmer of hope flickered in his mind. His face would heal, although it would be scarred but how many around here had his skills? He could cook, act as a valet; he could read and write. Perhaps all would yet be well.
Then he saw the pair of big men with yellow beards and long plaits coming towards him along the riverbank, grinning and purposeful.
“Oh no, please no more!” he thought to himself.
They laughed as they cut off his penis and stuffed it in his mouth before dragging him into the river and drowning him; they would not honour him by giving him his death by a warrior’s blade. Once his struggles had ceased and they were sure he was not breathing, they let him go. The body of Atrexes floated gently downstream into the Rhine, his name and thirty years of service to the Longius family almost immediately forgotten.
A knot of bored legionary sentries had gathered on the walkway. They had watched, intrigued.
“Wonder why they did that to him?” one of them asked.
“Don’t know; he must really have pissed them off,” his mate said.
Chapter 10
With the agreement of the legate, Attius called a general parade of the entire legion the next morning. Quadratus spoke first.
“Come to the front Legionary Marcus Corvo,” he called.
Corvo fell out from his rank and doubled up to the foot of the rostrum where the legate stood, Attius beside him.
“Le
gionary Corvo, your leadership, coolness and good soldierly conduct during the recent expedition across the Rhine has been drawn to my attention. I commend you and you will receive double pay this month.”
“Thank you, sir,” Corvo replied and saluted.
He was about to return to his position among the massed troops when Quadratus stopped him.
“Remain where you are Corvo,” the legate commanded and then addressed his entire command. “I shall be returning to Rome in a few days. On my departure, First Spear Centurion Titus Attius is appointed Camp Prefect and your commanding officer. All military authority rests in him. You will obey his orders without question. Yesterday’s display somewhat shook my confidence in the professionalism of The Second Lucan. I trust that it will be restored… very shortly. To that end, I am now handing the parade over to First Spear Centurion Attius.”
Attius saluted him; Quadratus returned the salute and marched away without looking back, his red cloak billowing out behind him. Attius glared at the men then shouted in a voice that echoed off the far walls.
“You have heard your legate. He is not happy with some of you. That means that among you are some poor excuses for soldiers who have made me look bad in front of my superior officer. I do not like that. I do not like those men who have made the legate question your professionalism because that means he’s questioning mine. Now, I can search through the off-duty rosters until I find out who was laughing and jeering and disturbing the peace or those responsible can admit their guilt. I am now dismissing this parade but those soldiers with bad consciences, stay where you are. Parade, dismiss!”
The legionaries clattered off, shields banging against javelins; leaving a forlorn group, dotted here and there and looking very small in the rapidly emptying parade ground. There were one hundred and forty men left where over four thousand had been assembled just moments before.
“Get yourselves up close and in some sort of order; like soldiers do, if any of you know what I mean. Where are the carpenters?” he yelled.
Knight of Rome Part I Page 10
