by Nick Brown
The attendant was now at the reins of the carriage that followed Volosus onto the road. It was a well-built vehicle, drawn by two horses and large enough to accommodate both the women and all the luggage. Volosus had taken Aphrodite aside that morning and told her what she would be doing. She did seem disappointingly moody; not even smiling when given a lovely pink stola purchased from the best clothier in the area. It was elegant but subtle; ideal for a creature of such beauty. Volosus had quite enjoyed picking it out for her. The servant Ioanna seemed far more impressed.
As Bibulus reined in, he scratched the sore on his cheek – which had still not cleared up. Volosus sighed wearily. Despite his best efforts, the man remained slovenly in his habits and appearance. Bibulus was not – and had never been – a soldier. He had originally come to his master’s attention as an informer, swiftly demonstrating his value. He was astute without being overly bright, had a good eye for detail and an excellent memory. He was also loyal and unfailingly vicious when the need arose. His father had been a butcher, and it seemed as if all that blood and killing had inured him to the suffering of humans as well as animals. Volosus could administer torture if he really had to but he drew no satisfaction. Bibulus actually seemed to enjoy it.
The attendant was dressed in a drab, shapeless tunic and he carried only a dagger for protection, like most male travellers. Volosus had little about his person that might identify him as a Roman officer. He was, however armed with his authorisation papers from Tetricus; in case he encountered a fellow officer whose cooperation he required. As well as the forged governor’s letter, he possessed a number of other false documents that had proved invaluable in the past.
Volosus could not recall the last time he had worn a crested helmet or a scarlet cape, or any of the awards he had won during his service as a tribune. He no longer considered himself a soldier.
There was no particular need for Gutha to disguise himself. He rode out of the inn on his enormous black horse, one of the largest mounts Volosus had ever seen. The morning was not cold but a tad damp from a nocturnal downpour and the mercenary wore a thick cloak over his shoulders. Despite the fact that he gave off the heat of two men, he claimed to find Gaul cold after his many years in the desert lands.
Volosus planned to press him on his past at the earliest opportunity. He felt sure Gutha would do a professional job but the mercenary seemed very experienced and independent. Would he give up his life for a man he'd only just met? Volosus knew Bibulus would because he owed his superior everything. Gods willing it wouldn’t come to that. Gods willing he'd never have to find out. Gods willing they'd ride out of Lavona without blood being spilled.
The village was eighteen miles away. It would take most of the day to reach it and he wanted to be there in daylight in order to appraise the situation first-hand. He glanced over his shoulder.
The two stable lads and two male servants from the inn had gathered at the gate. Volosus could see their expressions and he had no doubt they were there for a final glance at Aphrodite, even though she was inside the carriage. Like Bibulus and Gutha, they had been unable to contain themselves at their first sight of her. Volosus grinned and urged his horse into a trot.
They made good progress, covering ten miles before midday and purchasing some passable food from a roadside stall. The traffic on the road thinned notably as they approached “no man's land”. As expected, they encountered a squad of eight legionaries guarding the road that led to Lavona.
Volosus made no mention of his true identity. He had no reason to believe the men weren't loyal to Tetricus but he was too close to his target to take any risk whatsoever. He made use of a long-standing cover identity; informing the troops that he was one Marcus Vitellius, a landowner from northern Lugdunensis. The senior man, a guard officer, asked several stock questions designed to establish if he – or anyone in his party – might be a spy. Gutha attracted some wary looks and was also interrogated but he handled the soldier as easily as Volosus. The guard officer warned them about imminent hostilities but Volosus stuck to his story about visiting his ill sister in the northern Italian city of Ticinum. He told them he had a letter of authorisation from the governor of Lugdenensis if required. The troops said that wasn’t necessary and sent them on their way.
As their little column approached the thick forest that bordered the Rhone, Gutha came up from the rear and rode alongside his new master. Volosus glanced at his horse.
'Where did you find that monster?'
'A little place west of Siscia. I spotted him in a field by the road. Cost me more than a few aurei but he's been worth every coin. Master Volosus, I assume from the way you speak of Tetricus that you know the man well?'
'I suppose I do. I have worked for him for some time.'
'He must be concerned. Aurelian has brought the whole of the East to heel.'
'The East is one thing, the West is quite another. Now he faces fellow Romans. Not to mention the small matter of the Army of the Rhine.'
'Is no peace possible?'
Volosus waved a fly away from his face. 'It is fifteen years since Postumus's revolt. Since then, we have had several rulers here. As the years have passed, I suppose we’ve become rather used to our autonomy. We have our emperor. His claim to the purple is every bit as strong as Aurelian's.'
'No one else has tried what Aurelian is doing in that time?'
'The last serious attempt to bring us under the rule of Rome was by Gallienus nine years ago. Unfortunately for him, his commanders let him down.'
'Why so long?'
'There are other factors to consider. The Alamanni tribe, for one. They have divided the Rhine army and the Danube army for many years. They would have been very happy to see either of our sides attack each other and expose a flank. But Aurelian has weakened them; he is in a stronger position than any emperor in living memory.'
Volosus turned to Gutha. 'For a bright fellow, you are curiously ignorant of these matters.'
'Of matters here, yes. If you would like to know anything of life east of Antioch, I know a good deal.'
'At some point, I may test that knowledge. But for now, I suggest we concentrate on the issue at hand.'
'Tetricus – I have heard it said he is no great leader. Is that so?'
'Enough questions, bodyguard, or I will begin to suspect you are a spy.'
Gutha bowed his great, shaggy head. 'My apologies, sir.'
Volosus cast a look backwards to ensure all was well. Bibulus was slumped back, reins held loosely in his hands, but the carriage horses were keeping pace.
'My job often involves calculated risk. I do not believe I have anything to fear from you, Gutha, but let’s consider the facts. You have come from the East so I know only what you have told me. Perhaps your appearance at the house of Tiburtius was no accident. I believe – and I want to believe – that you will be a useful, loyal ally. If I come to believe differently, there will be no confrontation, no words of warning. There will be only steel in your neck when you least expect it.'
Volosus saw – or thought he saw – a slight smirk on Gutha's face.
'Understood.'
The mercenary guided his mount off the road, waiting for the others to pass so he could resume his position at the rear. Volosus had already returned his attention to the road ahead when the bodyguard spoke up.
‘Sir.’ Gutha pointed back the way they’d come.
Volosus also guided his mount off the road and halted. About a hundred yards away, four riders were galloping towards them. They were clearly soldiers but had little red upon them. Volosus ordered Bibulus to stop, then he and Gutha rode up to the carriage.
‘Auxiliaries,’ said Gutha as the riders drew near.
The four soldiers were equipped with spears and oval shields. The symbols and variety of colours on those shields confirmed that they were not legionaries but – like many cavalrymen – from an auxiliary unit. Volosus guessed they might be scouts, a patrol or even messengers. Whatever their mission, th
e quartet were moving clearly and paid little attention to the three men watching them.
But as they rode on, Volosus saw one auxiliary look back and exchange a few words with the others. Something had clearly caught his attention.
‘Sir,’ said Bibulus. ‘I think the girl put her head out. He must have seen her.’
‘What?’
Volosus dropped to the ground and stalked over to the carriage. Both windows were covered by curtains and he had told the girls not to show themselves. He wrenched back the curtain and stared inside. Their expressions told him that something had transpired. Aphrodite was sat furthest from him, closest to the road.
‘Did you show yourself?’
Aphrodite stared stubbornly forward, her face trembling slightly.
Volosus leant across Ioanna and grabbed her wrist. ‘Answer me.’
‘No.’
He turned his hand slightly to burn her skin. ‘The truth, girl.’
Aphrodite tried to pull away, with little effect.
‘Refuse me any longer and I will come around to your side,’ said Volosus. ‘And that you will regret.’
‘All right, I looked out,’ she snapped. ‘I was curious. We’ve been stuck in here all morning and it’s hot!’
Volosus let her go. ‘And yet you did not ask for a break or some air. More likely you thought some passing rider might see you and enquire about you; perhaps set you free? A handsome, heroic fellow on a white steed? I suggest you forget such fantasy, young lady. In fact, I insist.’
‘How much longer?’
‘Several hours. Hold your tongue and do as I say or I will make you walk.’
‘No, you won’t. I must be kept in good condition or I am no use to you. Like an animal. A piece of meat. That’s all I am to any of you.’
‘By the gods, have you considered the stage, girl? What drama! You are well looked after and occasionally required to service a man. Tell me how many others of your gender are not? What makes you so special?’
‘I have never claimed to be special. It is others that have decided it is so.’
Volosus glanced at the girl Ioanna, who was staring downward.
‘We should be there before sundown. You have food and wine, don’t you?’
‘Yes, sir,’ answered Ioanna quietly.
Volosus withdrew his arm. ‘Do not show yourself again, is that clear?’
‘Yes,’ said Aphrodite, pouting.
It was clear to Volosus that she viewed him as just another troublesome man intent on exploiting her beauty. He felt sure that the time would come when she discovered that he was something quite different. It did not suit him for that time to arrive any sooner than was necessary.
As he walked away from the carriage, Gutha handed him the reins to his horse. ‘The rider – he looked back a second time. Perhaps just because of the girl’s looks.’
Volosus’s instincts, which he had learned to trust over opinion - sometimes including his own – told him otherwise.
The Rhone seemed tranquil and benign, coloured gold by the setting sun. The only vessel visible was tied to the arched bridge, the rope pulled taut by the tide. A single man sat there fishing, his shape black in the fading light. Lanterns were lit at the far side, then at the near. The legionaries on duty could not be seen. But they were there.
Volosus dragged over a chair so that he could look out of the window in comfort. Two hours previously, he had waited anxiously as the guards perused his letter from the governor of Lugdunensis. Gutha had again attracted the soldiers’ attention but he had hidden his axe under the carriage and done a half-convincing job of appearing friendly and unthreatening. After the men had spied Aphrodite, all other concerns were forgotten. The guards had waved them through to Lavona and wished them well.
They occupied three rooms at The Apollo inn, which though mediocre in quality was at least quiet. One room was for the two women (they were now safely locked in), one was for Volosus, and the other to be shared by Gutha and Bibulus – a state of affairs neither seemed happy about.
A knock on the open door.
The giant ducked under the doorway. ‘Your bags.’
‘Thank you, Gutha.’
Having put them down at the end of the bed, the mercenary tarried.
‘Something on your mind?’
‘How can you be certain that Dolabella will see the girl? And that he’ll have the time and inclination to bed her?’
‘I cannot be certain but I have made it my business to know of our enemies’ habits and vices. In any case, that is not your concern. Your concern is to make sure we get him out of here and away without any unpleasant surprises.’
Gutha was about to leave when Bibulus knocked at the door then entered.
‘Well?’
‘Couldn’t get much out of the grooms, sir, but I checked the parlour here and at the other inn; and the two taverns. Only the second tavern, The White Pony, had any officers from the camp present.’
Volosus stood up. ‘Good work. We must hope that their drinking habit continues when their guest arrives. If I know Dolabella, he will be growing extremely tired of this inspection duty. It will be most unlike him to refuse the offer of wine and company. And then we must ensure that he receives another offer too good to refuse.’
VI
Cassius gazed around, appreciating the solitude and modest beauty of this high place. On either side of the road were grassy slopes dotted with small summer flowers of pink and blue. Above were steep banks scarred by strips of pale grey rock. Higher still the greenery faded away and the rock became jagged and dark. The Alpine peaks were stark in the morning blue, half-veiled by billowing cloud.
Indavara had said earlier how much he liked it here and Cassius agreed. He doubted it was particularly pleasant in the winter months but there was without doubt a restorative quality to the pure air and the calming vistas; he understood why Mellisa remained.
She had left him before dawn, anxious that their tryst not be discovered. Cassius had tried to take things further than kisses and caresses but he almost admired her determination not to do so. And in truth he had also enjoyed the closeness and warmth; it had been many months since he’d laid beside a woman. Cassius shook his head; was he getting old? It seemed now that only simple pleasures renewed him.
Not for the first time, he considered halting, announcing to Simo and Indavara that he’d decided to return home; that they were released from their duties. If he rode hard, he might be in Ravenna in ten days. But such fantasies were merely that. Word of this failure would eventually reach home. And the shame of not doing one's duty was intolerable for a man of his class. He was fortunate that he only had to complete a five-year term.
Cassius had his father to thank for that. And if he did his time, returned as a man of status and repute, he knew that all his previous misdeeds would be forgiven and forgotten. He would be free to continue his training as an orator if he so wished. Was that still what he wanted? Cassius wasn't sure anymore. He had become used to the ways of the army: he enjoyed wearing the uniform, doling out orders, being respected. Perhaps there might be some military role for him in Ravenna? Something administrative and quiet but where he could remain as an officer. By the gods, the girls would love him! All the benefits without the disadvantages. He smiled at the thought of it. Perhaps his father could pull some strings.
'Can't even see the auxiliaries now,' said Indavara, looking ahead as he brought his horse up beside Cassius.
'Good. They're not our problem any more. Let's hope they can get down to Axima without a mass brawl. They need to be worked hard so that all else is forgotten. Appalling state of affairs.'
Cassius's attention was drawn to Indavara's posture. Over the years, his riding had improved but he always hunched; and it seemed even worse since his recovery.
'I know,' said the bodyguard. 'Straight back. But it aches.'
'Probably because you lifted that chair a hundred times this morning,' interjected Simo, who was close behind
.
Cassius made no comment but glanced at the weapons strapped to Indavara's saddle: his short sword, his bow and the fighting stave with the two rope grips. He recalled the moment back in Antioch when Indavara – only a day after finally leaving his bed – had asked where his weapons were. At Cassius's insistence, every one of his possessions had been kept safe throughout his absence.
'Got to keep building myself up,' he said.
Cassius wondered if he’d made a mistake. Perhaps Abascantius was right; perhaps Indavara would never be what he was. But Cassius could not have left him in Antioch; not when they had an opportunity to visit Pietas Julia and learn about his past. And after all they had endured, Cassius could not imagine doing anything for the army without the ex-gladiator beside him.
But if he never recovered that prodigious strength and skill and guile, could this be the right decision for either of them? Cassius had been over it all so many times; he had even asked for guidance from Jupiter. The only answer he could discern was an inescapable feeling that – whatever happened – their fates were tied. That thought was somehow both alarming and reassuring.
'Indavara, tell me again about what you remember.'
'Again?'
'Our chances are improved if we all know it. Simo, you too. The search may come down to small details.'
As they passed a tiny stone-built cottage that appeared abandoned, Indavara composed himself then began.
‘First there's the village. We were there unloading timber from a cart. I think I’d been riding on it, with my father.’
Though he claimed to now be able to picture both his parents, Indavara could give only the vaguest description of them. He seemed convinced, however, that he would recognise either if he saw them in the flesh.
