Knight of Rome Part I

by Malcolm Davies

  “Sir,” Otto replied, “I am grateful for your hospitality and out of consideration for the ladies, I have told you I do not want to say more.”

  “Father…” Lucius tried to intervene but Vitius brushed him aside with a wave of his hand.

  “That’s as maybe but I demand the courtesy of a reply to a reasonable question,” he persisted.

  Otto looked him straight in the face and for the first time Vitius received the full glare of those pale eyes with sparks of fury dancing behind them. He forced himself not look away.

  “Last year I was caught unaware by a legionary who tipped me upside down into a full latrine pit. I sneaked out of camp, broke the ice on the river and sank myself under the water to wash away the worst of the filth. I was forced to burn my clothes and have all my hair shaved off; Io Saturnalia, noble Vitius, Io Saturnalia!”

  Sabina’s mouth fell open. Poppaea’s head dropped and a bright red flush mounted from her bosom up her neck.

  “That is atrocious!” Aelia exclaimed.

  Vitius turned to his son.

  “I hope you had the man who did this punished to the fullest extent.”

  Lucius looked around the table and thought he would have to say something so why not the truth?

  “Let me describe a chain of events to you. Otto appeared one morning with his Suevian Knot cut off and his head shaved. Shortly after, he asked if his mentor could teach him some writing skills. He made very good progress in a short time. On a dark night of swirling snow, an unknown hand sliced the right ear off the head of a legionary returning from the soldiers’ bathhouse. He couldn’t identify his attacker. In the morning the ear was found nailed to the lintel of the latrine door with a crudely lettered sign over it saying, “Io Saturnalia”. Now family, never ask Otto if he carried out this act of revenge. He would not answer with a lie but if I hear out of his own mouth that it was indeed him, I am bound to report it to the legate and he will be condemned to suffer execution.”

  “Surely under the circumstances…” Vitius began.

  “If anyone maims a soldier of the empire off duty, he must die. There are no exceptions, especially for non-citizens.”

  The dinner party broke up quickly and sombrely but Aelia registered the information that Otto had begun to learn to read and write. It gave her an idea.

  Two days later she appeared for her afternoon with Otto carrying a scroll.

  “The tales of Aesop are written in this book. He was a very wise slave who wrote stories about animals that tell us something of men and women and the mistakes they often make. Would you like to read them with me?”

  She did not tell him it was a children’s book. He read them aloud, painfully and haltingly. Aelia corrected him with gentle patience. In the course of a few days, she barely had to guide him at all.

  “That young man has become a project for you, mother,” Vitius remarked.

  “If he is fated to share my grandson’s life, I want to equip him as best I can. In any case, he is quick and has a retentive memory. Who knows what he may yet make of himself?”

  The first day of February was miserable; dark skies overhead, a cold wind and waves of drizzle passing. Near midday, Janus was startled by the tramping of boots in the street and was at the point of opening the door to see what was going on when he heard a shouted order and the boots stopped with a crash. Three heavy thuds made the door shake and he opened it to see a centurion glaring at him out of his single eye.

  “City Garrison Centurion Decimus Massus requesting an interview with the noble Tribune Lucius Taurius Longius,” he said then turned to the four legionaries with him. “Stand at ease!” he bellowed.

  Janus stood staring at him open-mouthed.

  “Jump to it sunshine; the army hasn’t got all day to wait for you,” Massus demanded.

  Janus scuttled into the house and gave his message. Lucius hurried over and asked the centurion and his escort to come inside.

  “In we go lads,” he told his escort. “Don’t knock anything over with them javelins.”

  Lucius walked into the house, the centurion took off his helmet and followed him into the dining room. The four soldiers took up a position guarding the entrance. Janus stared at them for a while and then ostentatiously examined the front of his door. He was sure that one-eyed soldier must have made dents banging on it with that stick he carried.

  “Pinerus,” Lucius called. The major-domo appeared almost instantly. “A flask of wine and some snacks for this officer and me, please.” Lucius requested. While they waited, he turned to his visitor. “Your men could go around to the kitchen and get a bite themselves, if you don’t object.”

  He did not, went out again and addressed them

  “Right you lot, it’s your lucky day. The tribune says you can go round to the kitchen where you will be served with some grub; mind your manners. Stack your shields and javelins here under the shelter of the roof. Off you go.”

  Pinerus had arrived with a tray which he placed on the table.

  “Is that all, sir?”

  “Just tell cook four hungry soldiers will invade the kitchen any moment. She is to feed them well”

  At which point Vitius came in and was introduced.

  “I’ll leave you to your military matters,” he said, shooing away Poppaea who had been lurking in the open doorway trying to see what was going on. She still did not quite believe that her brother was an officer to whom other ranks had to defer. She found it absurd; he was just Lucius!

  “A courier came in this morning with army mail for you, sir. I took the liberty of receiving it on your behalf,” Massus said handing over two leather scroll cases. “You will see the seals are unbroken.”

  Lucius pushed the tray bearing sliced, spiced sausage, cheese, bread and dates across the table. He poured two cups of wine. Massus drank and started on the bread and cheese. Lucius read the first letter.

  “To the Noble Tribune Lucius Taurus Longius, Greetings. You are hereby ordered to assemble all troops of The Second Lucan Legion currently on leave in the magistracy of Luca on the last day of February and proceed on the first day of March to Lugdunum where you will join my column prior to proceeding to legion headquarters. In the event you arrive in Lugdunum before me, you will report to the senior officer there and arrange to await me. I also send warrants for you to hire four mule wagons and buy sufficient supplies for one hundred and thirty men for twenty-five days to the account of the legion, payable in Lugdunum. You will keep all receipts for inspection. Trusting that your relations with the City Magistrate are cordial, you will liaise with him and take his advice in respect of the civilian haulage contractors and commissaries to be employed.

  I look forward to our rendezvous in Lugdunum and hope that you have profited from this period of leave with your family.

  Signed; Publius Quadratus Legate Second Lucan.

  P. S. On my supposition that Otto is returning, I propose to make him an “attached civilian support” assigned to you, then we can at least pay him something for his efforts in the field. See you soon, my Boxer.”

  Lucius passed the letter to Massus who read it

  “I have the muster-rolls in safe-keeping, sir and the equipment they brought with them is in storage. I’ll start getting hold of your lads. I’ll use my men to get an acknowledgement from all of them that they know the date they must assemble with their kit. I suggest we tell them to come in three days early then we’ll have time to round up the column-dodgers and the poor saps who have fallen in love and think they want to spend the rest of their lives in the arms of some farmer’s daughter.”

  Lucius showed the letter to the family.

  “So soon?” Sabina complained. “Surely they can’t mean the end of February; the weather will be awful...”

  “Your legate seems to have a good opinion of you, Lucius,” his father said. “But I wonder how you’ll rise to be a broad-stripe tribune and maybe command your own legion one day if you remain an artillery specialist.”


  “I’ll never command a legion; grandfather saw to that when he chose to support the Antonians, but there are other ways of advancement. An army needs a master of artillery as much as a master of horse. War brings unexpected opportunities.”

  Aelia said nothing but next day she sent for a scribe who was ushered into her room for a private conference. He left after half an hour with money chinking in his belt purse. He returned several times over the next two weeks and conferred with her. She refused to tell anyone what was going on.

  Lucius started to earn his army pay again. Everyday he strode or rode into the city and consulted the magistrate or Decimus Massus. Frantic chaos began to give way to order. After prolonged negotiations, corn, bacon, oil and wine were bought in sufficient amounts. Two four mule wagons and two six mule wagons were provisionally hired. It was only at the very last minute that the owners suddenly demanded additional money for their animal’s fodder. But although Lucius was young, he was not green. He stood up and turned to the magistrate who was there to record and attest to the legality of the proceedings.

  “Is there a skilled tradesman in the city who could build me half a dozen handcarts?

  “Well, yes tribune, but I…”

  Lucius interrupted him, turning to the hauliers.

  “Thank you for your time, gentlemen but your services will not be required. With two-man handcarts and what they can carry on their backs, my men will manage without you.”

  “All the way to Lugdunum dragging their own supplies? Please, young sir; we all know that you’re bluffing,” said one portly carrier with a complicit smirk.

  “You are talking about experienced soldiers. Do you think that it is any real hardship for men of the legions like them?” Lucius told him sharply and with that he left the meeting.

  Two hours later, contracts were signed on the original terms.

  The days of February rushed past, seeming to accelerate as the deadline for departure approached. On the fifteenth, Servius demanded that Lucius spent an evening with him for a farewell drinking session.

  “I’m too busy,” Lucius replied.

  “No you’re not; that’s just an excuse. You can’t do anything at night when the magistrate’s office is shut and all the business types are lying in bed snoring on top of their fat wives. Come on Lucius, you’re my oldest and dearest friend….”

  “Oh, alright but I’m not making session of it. I need to keep a clear head.”

  “That’s the way,” Servius said and named the wineshop where they would meet at eight.

  The tavern was in a side street leading off the square. Lucius went in at the appointed time but Otto would not go in with him. Otto kept his distance if Servius was involved.

  “I’ll wait for you,” he told Lucius who no longer tried to persuade him that his friend was not so bad.

  The full moon rose at nine. High in the heavens, an immense silver ring surrounded it. Otto knew this for a sign of great cold. One side of the street was so brilliantly lit it could be noon but the shadows on the other side seemed thicker, stygian by contrast. He stood in the shelter of a deep doorway further down the street to avoid the frost he was sure would soon fall and was lost to sight in the gloom. After a further hour had passed, three men walked up to the shivering boys waiting beside the wineshop door ready with their torches to light the gentlemen’s way home.

  “Wasting your time, lads, on a bright moonlight night like this,” one of them said in a friendly voice. He thrust his hand into his tunic and brought out a few copper coins. “Here take these and get yourselves off before you freeze to death.”

  The grateful boys vanished into the maze of streets behind the square, happy to be heading home early with something to show for their evening spent hopping from one foot to the other against the numbing chill. The men drifted across street and found concealment. Time passed. The night grew colder. Glittering powder like shaken salt covered the flagstones in frost. Suddenly the door opened and a shaft of yellow light accompanied by a burst of warm air flooded out to be instantly cut off as the door was quickly slammed shut to keep the heat in. Servius and Lucius stood on the pavement in the moonlight. The three men surged towards them out of the shadows. Servius saw them first. He flung his purse down. The string at its neck snapped and a few silver and gold coins fell out, reflecting splinters of light off the ground.

  “Here, take it; take it all,” he yelled and sprinted off down the street without looking back.

  The men hesitated at the sight of the money, giving Lucius just enough time to wind his cloak around his left arm to give himself some rudimentary protection. They fanned out. One drew a knife and grinned as he closed in.

  Otto was on the move now, drawing his pugio as he sprinted towards Lucius. The thief struck his first blow but Lucius took it on his padded arm and lashed out with his right fist catching his attacker on the cheek bone. He reeled backwards but that allowed one of his partners the space to slash with his own blade. Before he could defend himself, it sliced across Lucius’ chest from left to right on a downward arc. Then the full power of Otto at a run hit the knifeman in the back and drove him into the wall. He heard his ribs splinter as massive shoulder hammered him against the stonework and he fell. Otto wheeled in time to see the third member of the gang step towards him with a cudgel raised in both hands. He stepped close in under the blow and thrust his dagger into the man’s upper belly. He ripped sideways to free the blade. His victim howled and clutched at his gaping wound trying to push his intestines back in. The first man who had struck at Lucius saw that this night’s work had gone badly wrong and decided to make a run for it. As he spun on his heel, he noticed Servius’ purse. He reached down to grab it up but that move was fatal. Otto stamped on his clutching hand, pinned it to the ground and stuck him in the angle of his jaw with his wide-bladed knife. A jet of blood shot high into the air. He was dead before it hit the wall.

  Otto picked up the purse put it into his tunic. He saw that Lucius was deathly pale and that blood, black as ink in the moonlight, was sheeting down from his gashed chest He dragged the cloak off Lucius’ arm and bound it as tightly as he could round his wounded body. Then, half dragging him, Otto ran for the guard barracks. As he drew closer, he saw the pair of sentries on duty standing by a glowing brazier.

  “On me, on me!” he yelled repeating what he had heard shouted out by the legionaries when they were hard-pressed. “On me, rally on me!”

  Three minutes later, Lucius lay on the guardroom mess table. The knife wound had divided his chest in two by a furrow from which a thick flap of flesh fell open. The medical orderly poured wine vinegar over it and Lucius fainted, which saved him a great deal of pain while he was being tightly bandaged.

  “Need a surgeon, sir,” the orderly told Centurion Massus.

  Half an hour later, groggy from the poppy juice he had been given, Lucius looked down at the line of black horsehair stitches holding the pursed edges of his wound together.

  “Looks much worse than it is,” the surgeon said cheerfully. “Right across the front of his ribs but it didn’t pierce his innards, thankfully.” He produced a clay pot with a close-fitting lid. “Garlic oil in honey; rub this on and bandage him with clean linen every day and he’ll be up and about in a fortnight and fully fit in a month. In the meanwhile, he should take it easy; mustn’t open his wound. I’ll give you some more poppy juice for him but go easy, only four drops a day in watered wine. That’s it boys, now, whose paying?”

  Otto fished a gold coin out from Servius’ purse.

  “Is this enough?”

  “Oh yes, I have no problem in accepting that handsome emolument for services rendered.”

  A squad of legionaries was sent round to collect the bodies.

  “All dead?” Massus asked.

  “The one with the smashed-in chest said he wasn’t so I gave him a kick in the head for telling lies. And what do you know? He was lying ‘cos he turned out to be dead as well.”

  “You�
�re a bit of a handful lad, aren’t you? Did for all three of them on your own and them armed as well.” Massus said to Otto who shrugged.

  “They had fallen upon Tribune Boxer. He has my oath.”

  The centurion patted him on the shoulder.

  “Then he is a very fortunate man. You’ll have to stay here tonight. In the morning we’ll go and square all this with the magistrate and organize a litter and an escort for the tribune.”

  The magistrate was shocked.

  “In Luca? In the centre of the city?” he exclaimed. “Such things never happen here. Where was the night-watch? In any case, I am relieved to learn that the tribune’s injuries are not life-threatening. You’re sure they’re not?”

  “Who can say sir?” the centurion answered in a gloomy voice. “I’ve seen many a fine lad on the road to recovery suddenly take a turn for the worse and then…” he snapped his fingers.

  His honour went pale and missed Massus’ grin and wink at Otto.

  “I shall have to take formal statements for my court records. I presume there were no witnesses?”

  “No, sir,” Otto told him. “Do you know a young man called Servius who calls himself a close friend of the noble tribune?” The magistrate nodded. “He was there but when those men closed in, he flung down his money and ran off into the night wailing.” Otto pulled Servius’ purse out of his tunic. It was black with dried blood. The magistrate looked at it with distaste as Otto placed on the corner of his desk. “Would you please give this to him and tell him that Otto returns what he left behind when he ran away and left his friend to die. Use those words, sir.”

  “Of course,” he agreed, with no intention of doing so.

  Chapter 19

  No-one was particularly worried when Lucius had not returned home by morning. It would not be the first time a night’s carousing had gone on too long and he had slept it off at a friend’s house. Janus grinned as he heard a knock at the garden door. No doubt his young master would be outside, red-eyed, hung-over and wanting a bath. He opened up with a greeting on his lips, was grabbed by the tunic and hauled sideways into the street, out of view of anyone in the house. He looked up reproachfully at Otto and then saw the centurion and a file of legionaries, four of them holding a litter. The officer stepped forward.