Chapter Thirty – “Let the boy have a share of the glory”
“There seems to be some dispute regarding who captured Bicilis,” Lucullus said wearily, rubbing his eyes as he turned to Rufus. “And who will be rewarded the five hundred denarii bonus. Fronto claims he was the first but Fergus says he also has a claim.”
Fergus stood stiffly to attention in the cohort commander’s tent and, at his side Fronto was doing the same, his hands clenched tightly into fists. A large, dark bruise covered one of Fronto’s eyes. Across from them and seated behind a small wooden table, were Lucullus and Rufus and at the entrance to the tent stood a legionary guard. Rufus was studying the two-young officer’s sternly. Then slowly he rose to his feet.
“How did you get that bruise, Fronto?” Rufus asked as he came up to stand right in front of the two men.
“In the mine, Fergus here, he hit me Sir,” Fronto hissed angrily.
“He hit his head on the rock ceiling whilst I and my men were escorting him out of the mine, Sir,” Fergus interrupted. “It was an unfortunate accident.”
Rufus grunted as he turned to look at Fergus.
“And what reason,” Rufus snapped sternly, “apart from wanting to get a five hundred denarii payment, did you have to bind the Tesserarius and his men’s hands and lead them up out of the mine, as if they were common criminals? For Jupiter’s sake, Fergus, we are all on the same side here.”
“The Tesserarius was trying to rape a woman, Sir,” Fergus replied, his eyes staring straight ahead and into space. “Bicilis’s daughter. Bicilis and his family were no threat to us. They surrendered willingly. As the most senior officer present I felt it my duty to put an end to the rape attempt, Sir.”
“There is nothing illegal about raping and killing the enemy,” Fronto hissed. “The Dacians would have done the same if they were Roman women. I did nothing wrong and it was I who captured Bicilis, Sir. I found him cowering in that mine.”
“She was not a day over twelve year’s old,” Fergus cried out, unable to contain his anger. “And you did not capture him; he surrendered to me and my men.”
“Silence,” Rufus cried, raising his voice as angrily the senior centurion rounded on the two subordinate officers standing before him. “If it wasn’t for the fact that you two are the best junior officers in the cohort,” Rufus snapped, his eyes blazing, “I would have had you both demoted for the shameful business today. You have made us look like fools with this infighting.”
Standing in front of Rufus, both Fergus and Fronto remained silent.
“Fronto,” Rufus snapped turning on the Tesserarius, “This is not the first time that allegations of murder and rape have been made against you. I know there is history between you and Fergus that stretches all the way back to Deva, but if there is a repeat of the incident down in the mine then I shall take action. I cannot have my best two officers fighting each other like this. Now get out.”
“What about the five hundred denarii bonus,” Fronto protested, “It was I who found Bicilis, the reward should be mine, Sir.”
“Get out,” Rufus roared.
In reply a little colour shot into Fronto’s cheeks and hastily he saluted, turned and marched out of the tent.
In the silence that followed Fergus swallowed nervously. Slowly Rufus came up to stand right beside him and glared at him.
“The same goes for you Fergus,” Rufus growled in a milder voice. “I cannot have my best two junior officers fighting each other. It is bad for morale and it makes us look stupid. If it happens again you will be punished. Is that clear?”
“Yes Sir,” Fergus said stiffly.
Turning away, Rufus glanced at Lucullus who had remained sitting beside the table.
“Fronto is right,” Rufus said. “There is no law or rule that says a soldier may not rape or kill the enemy. I cannot punish him for that. But that is not to say that it should occur and personally I feel that treating women in such a way is barbaric. But that is just my opinion. I grew up with four sisters.”
Rufus sighed and slowly shook his head.
“The war is nearly over Fergus and soon I expect that we shall be heading back home to Britannia,” Rufus said. “So, see to it that you stay away from Fronto and when we get back to Deva I will raise this matter with the camp prefect.”
“Thank you, Sir,” Fergus muttered.
“Who do you think should be awarded the five hundred denarii bonus for capturing Bicilis?” Lucullus suddenly exclaimed, as he turned to address Fergus.
Fergus lowered his eyes to the ground as he stood to attention and for a while the tent remained silent, as the two centurions gazed at him.
“Fronto found them first Sir,” Fergus said at last as he cleared his throat. “We heard the screams and when we arrived he was trying to rape the girl. I put a stop to that.” Fergus paused. “If I were you Sir,” he said stiffly, “I would divide the five hundred denarii amongst my men and Fronto’s men but bar myself and Fronto from receiving anything. The soldiers were just following our orders Sir. They should not be punished for the quarrel that exists between me and Fronto. Divide the money between them Sir. The men will be happy and you will have set an example to the other officers.”
Quickly Rufus glanced at Lucullus and for a moment he did not reply.
“Well, well,” Rufus said as a faint smile appeared along his lips. “So, you are a diplomat in addition to being a good soldier, Fergus. All right, I shall speak with the tribune and see whether he agrees.”
“There is also the matter of what to do with Bicilis and his family,” Lucullus said. “Bicilis is refusing to cooperate. He is being a right pain in the arse. He says that he will only surrender to Emperor Trajan in person. He claims to have important information, vital news that Trajan will want to know about. Personally, I think he is just out to save his own skin and that of his family, but he is insisting that he be taken to see the emperor right away. He says it is urgent.”
Rufus wrenched his eyes away from Fergus.
“Yes, I have spoken with Bicilis,” Rufus said thoughtfully. “The man is the brother-in-law of King Decebalus. The king is on the run, somewhere in these mountains. Maybe Bicilis knows to where the king has fled. It would be a coup if we were the ones to find out where Decebalus has gone. But we must be careful,” Rufus added as thoughtfully he rubbed his chin. “I would have liked to have interrogated Bicilis here but he is an important royal captive; a member of King Decebalus’s family. If Trajan were to find out that we had kept him here and prevented him from giving his information, the emperor will not be pleased. Trajan may even think that we were deliberately withholding something from him. No,” Rufus said with a resolute shake of his head, “If Bicilis insists on speaking to Trajan, then we should send him to the emperor right away and let him deal with it.”
“Trajan is camped in the village of Ranisstorum near the ruins of Sarmisegetusa Regia,” Lucullus replied, glancing at Fergus who was still standing to attention. “It’s no more than fifty or sixty miles from here. On horseback, with a small escort he could be in the emperor’s presence within two days. We could keep his family here as hostages. That should be enough of a guarantee for his good behaviour, although,” Lucullus coughed, “I get the impression he is eager to speak to Trajan. You would need the tribune’s permission of course.”
Once more Rufus rubbed his chin with a thoughtful expression. “No, the tribune does not need to know,” Rufus said quietly, “that we have sent Bicilis on to emperor Trajan until after it has occurred. I want the emperor to know that it was our cohort and the vexillation of the Twentieth who captured Bicilis. If we inform the tribune right away, that young arrogant prick will try to steal all our glory and make it his own.”
“Then Bicilis’s escort will need to come from our own men,” Lucullus said. “What about Fergus here? He could lead the escort. After all he caught Bicilis in the first place. It would be a fitting reward for him to be seen leading Bicilis into the emperor’s presence
? Let the boy have a share of the glory.”
“That’s a good idea,” Rufus muttered as he turned to look at Fergus. “That is a very good idea. Tell me Fergus, do you know how to ride a horse?”
“I have ridden on horses before, Sir,” Fergus replied stiffly.
“Good, then it is settled,” Rufus said sharply. “I shall write you a letter which I want you to give to the emperor himself if you get the chance. Select a few good men and have them ready to ride out at dawn tomorrow. And Fergus, whatever you do, don’t lose Bicilis, that would be very bad for all of us.”
Chapter Thirty-One – The Man who has the King’s Ear
The cliff tops of the rocky mountain-gorge were covered in bushes and the land looked parched under the fierce august sun. It was afternoon and in the clear blue-sky Fergus could see birds circling high above him, as he slowly rode through the mountain defile. Warily he gazed up at the cliff tops, searching for any unexpected movement or the reflective glint of light on metal that would give away a Dacian ambush. But all seemed quiet and peaceful and for hours now, they had seen no one. Ahead, the small figure of Bicilis sat hunched on his horse and despite the summer heat, the man had wrapped a black cloak around his body and his head was covered with a hood, as if he did not want to be recognised. Fergus peered at him. He had considered binding the man’s hands but that would have made it very hard for Bicilis to ride and the Dacian noble did not seem to be interested in escape, so in the end, he had decided against it. If they ran into trouble their best chance would be to gallop away as fast as they could and if Bicilis were to try to escape, Fergus had resolved to kill him. Riding on either side of Bicilis and looking rather ungainly and uncomfortable on their horses were Vittius and Catinius, whilst Aledus led the small party of five down the gorge.
“Fergus,” Catinius called out sounding bored, “Do you really think we are going to meet the emperor?”
“Who knows?” Fergus shrugged. “But maybe not. I am sure he is surrounded by his praetorian guards and a host of officials, senators and busy bodies. He’s the emperor of Rome, after all.”
“I heard he is a soldier just like us,” Vittius called out with an amused grin. “And if I get the chance to ask him just one question, it would be: do you prefer the gladius or the Dacian falx?”
“What?” Catinius retorted with a laugh. “You are standing before the most powerful man in the world and that is all you would ask. Ah, shame on you Vittius. You may as well ask Trajan how big his dick is.”
“Well what would you ask the emperor - you, who knows everything?” Vittius batted back at Catinius.
But before Catinius could answer the question, further along the gorge Aledus suddenly raised his hand in warning.
Hastily, Fergus urged his horse forwards and rode up to Aledus, who had halted beside a steep, rocky undergrowth-covered slope that fell away into a river valley.
“What is it?” Fergus muttered as he drew level.
But there was no need for Aledus to answer. Fergus grunted and frowned, as in the valley below he suddenly caught sight of the column of civilians, several-hundred strong and accompanied by their cattle, flocks of sheep, barking dogs and a few wagons, upon which were piled all sorts of personal belongings. The multitude was slowly plodding along in the heat, heading eastwards along the valley. And amongst them Fergus caught sight of a small group of men carrying Roman shields and wearing Roman legionary armour.
“They are fleeing,” Bicilis said in his thick accent, as he nudged his horse alongside that of Fergus and gazed down at the dispirited-looking column. “They must be hoping to escape your legions, by heading east into the lands of the Roxolani or north to where the Sarmatians and Scythians live. The war is over. My people have given up hope.”
“They look like Roman legionaries down there,” Vittius muttered, as he pointed at the men clad in the Roman army armour and carrying Roman shields.
“They are deserters,” Bicilis sighed, “Roman army deserters who fought for us. King Decebalus bribed them with gold and silver. There are many of them but now, they too must flee. There is no place for them here any longer. Emperor Trajan will take all. The history of my people is finished.”
“Is that why you surrendered so easily?” Fergus asked turning to gaze coldly at Bicilis. “When we took your mountain fortress,” Fergus said, “you were not even there to defend it. Why should any Dacian fight for you? What kind of commander abandons his men and his home?”
“Ah,” Bicilis replied with a weary sigh, as he looked away. “You are young and you are on the winning side. It is easy for you to say such things. But the war with Rome was already lost years ago. My brother in law, King Decebalus, thought he could beat you. He dreamed of conquering Rome and becoming the greatest king Dacia has ever known. But it was a fool’s dream and now we must all pay the price. I was the only one who counselled him against making war with Trajan. I said it would lead to this defeat and destruction, but the king and his advisors would not believe me. They preferred war and now we have this catastrophe. But it is not my fault.”
“But you still ran away and hid in a mine. That’s what a coward would do,” Catinius retorted, as he fixed Bicilis with a contemptuous stare.
“I was not only hiding from Rome,” Bicilis replied in a quiet, dignified voice. “I have enemies, powerful enemies amongst my own people. Enemies who in this terrible moment of our downfall would wish me and my family harm. The war is lost. Rome will conquer and occupy our land and this is the time when grudges are settled. So,” Bicilis sighed wearily, “there is nothing left for me to do but make a bargain with your emperor. I shall persuade Trajan to offer me a position within the Roman administration that will now rule Dacia and I will get a guarantee that my family will be well treated and allowed to live in safety.”
“You are betraying your king and you are selling out to save your own skin. Some would say that was dishonourable,” Fergus said.
Calmly Bicilis turned to look at Fergus and there was a sudden defiance in his eyes. “I have seen war before you were even born and I am sick of it. I do not want to have my daughters and my son experience what I have seen. My brother-in-law was a fool, an arrogant fool and it is he, who has brought this catastrophe down on his people. He is to blame for this, not I. So, now I am going to make my peace with Trajan and afterwards I am going to get filthily fat and live out my remaining days watching my children grow up.”
“Why didn’t you flee like they are doing?” Vittius asked pointing at the column of civilians down in the valley.
“Let them run,” Bicilis retorted with a contemptuous voice, “but these mountains, these valleys, they are my home and I wish to stay. I do not wish to end my days as a slave in Rome or a refugee in some neighbouring land. No, I am not going anywhere. This is my home.”
“You said you wished to make a bargain with Emperor Trajan,” Fergus said frowning. “But what do you have to bargain with? Do you know where King Decebalus has fled to? Is that it?” Fergus fixed Bicilis with a cold, hard stare. “Remember, you are our prisoner and if Trajan wanted to, he could have you crucified and tortured. He does need to bargain with you. You mean nothing to him. You are just a Dacian commander who ran away and hid in a mine.”
“Yeah,” Vittius exclaimed. “Down in the mine, you told us that you had important information. So, what do you know?”
“What I have to discuss with Trajan is none of your concern,” Bicilis replied avoiding Fergus’s gaze. Then he sighed and turned to look down the mountain pass. “If we want to reach the capital by tomorrow evening, then we should keep going. The capital is in that direction. You have no idea how to get there. And yet you think you are escorting me to the emperor’s camp.”
***
It was getting late. The five of them were passing through a large forest and looking for a place to make their camp for the night when, once again Aledus, who was out in front, raised his arm in warning. As Fergus nudged his horse alongside his friend, he too s
aw the smoke rising above the trees.
“What do you think?” Aledus muttered as he examined the forest around them.
Silently Fergus peered into the trees but he could see nothing except for the solitary column of smoke.
“Whoever they are,” Fergus replied at last, “they don’t seem concerned about being spotted. People can see that smoke from a mile away. “All right,” he said, patting Aledus on the shoulder, “take Catinius and try and find out who they are and keep your head down. We will wait for you here.”
A few minutes later Aledus and Catinius were back and they looked excited.
“It’s all right Fergus,” Aledus said, as he rode up to him, “There are about a hundred of them and they are Romans and not just any old army grunts. From our position, we saw what looked like a mixed group of Praetorian cavalry and legionary cavalry. No infantry, all cavalry.”
“Praetorian cavalry?” Fergus muttered with a frown. “What are they doing out here? They are elite troops; the emperor’s personal horse guards.”
“What shall we do Fergus?” Vittius asked.
For a moment, Fergus seemed undecided. Then he glanced at Bicilis, who was sitting hunched on his horse, his dark hood covering his head.
“I suppose it cannot harm us if we join their camp tonight,” Fergus said with a sigh. “We should be safer with those cavalrymen and maybe they have news. All right, let’s go and join them.”
The praetorians and the legionary cavalrymen were in a loud, boisterous and excited mood as they clustered around their small camp fires, preparing their evening meals. It was dark and in the forest clearing, a small stream was tumbling down the side of a slope. Amongst the dark trees, at the edge of the clearing, the cavalry detachment’s horses were nosing about, looking for grass to eat. Fergus was silent as he sat on the ground beside a fire and chewed on a piece of game meat. Above him in the clear night sky, the stars were out in force. At his side his companions were devouring their meal and lifting cups of watered-down wine to their lips. All except for Bicilis, who was refusing to eat and seemed to have withdrawn within the hood of his cloak that covered his head. The Dacian noble’s legs were bound together with rope, but Fergus had decided against binding his hands. There seemed little chance that Bicilis would try to escape. Across the fire from Fergus and sitting cross-legged on the ground, were several praetorian and legionary troopers, one of whom had a leather bag lying in his lap. The trooper with the bag seemed to be in a very good mood and around him, his companions were laughing and joking.
The Dacian War (Book 6 of the Veteran of Rome Series) Page 29
