“Hadrian wishes to offer you a job,” Adalwolf said abruptly. “He wishes to offer you a place on his staff as his principal bodyguard. The man who used to fulfil this role has become unsuitable and Hadrian needs a new man. He wants you. So, this is the offer that I have come with. What do you say, Fergus?”
“Hadrian wants me to become his bodyguard?” Fergus blurted out in surprise. “What does that mean? He wants me to stand by his bed chamber all night and keep a watch out for ghosts and assassins?”
“The physical protection of the governor would be your main duty, yes, and you would oversee his guard detail and security arrangements,” Adalwolf said with a curt nod. “But you fail to see the significance of this role, Fergus. As Hadrian’s principal body-guard you will be privy to the man’s innermost secrets. The role would be a bit like being a companion and friend to the governor. I think that is what Hadrian has in mind. And Hadrian is an ambitious man. One day he is going to be emperor of Rome. I would urge you to think carefully about this opportunity.”
“A companion and a friend?” Fergus repeated, with a suspicious look. Then he turned to glance at Lucullus but the centurion said nothing.
“Would I have to leave the army Sir?” Fergus said straightening up, “Would I have to leave the Twentieth?”
“Well,” Adalwolf said carefully, “You should see this more as a permanent secondment into Hadrian’s service, Fergus. You will have the benefits of a Beneficiarius, exempt from certain duties. Officially and legally you would still be a member of the Twentieth Legion. You will not receive a discharge but you will also not receive any army pay and obviously, you will no longer be part of your company for operational issues, nor will you be able to stay at Deva.”
“And how long would this secondment be for?” Fergus muttered.
“Until you die or Hadrian releases you from his service. You shall not have the choice to return to the Twentieth without Hadrian’s permission,” Adalwolf said sharply. “If you agree, I have been given all necessary authority to get your transfer and secondment approved with the army. Hadrian is most insistent that you join him in Aquincum.”
Fergus sighed and looked down at his boots. This was not how he had expected the morning to go and as the silence in the tent lengthened, he felt torn by indecision. The legion was his life. He had wanted to join his grandfather’s unit since he was still a small boy; to make his grandfather proud; to follow in Corbulo’s footsteps and now he was here and he had made friends; good friends. But Hadrian was an important, powerful man and Adalwolf was right. The prospects of having such a man as a friend and ally were glittering. It would mean that all kinds of doors and opportunities would open for him and his family. He would probably never get such a chance again, if he turned Hadrian down.
“Fergus,” Lucullus said slowly and in a grave voice. “You are the finest optio in the whole Twentieth Legion as far as I am concerned and I would hate to lose you, but if you think that the army will soon promote you to centurion, then you are mistaken. You are too young and there is fierce competition for the limited vacancies. It will easily take you ten years before you would be even considered for a promotion to centurion. You should consider this.”
“Thank you,” Adawolf said, giving Lucullus a wry look. Then he turned to Fergus. “I must have your answer Fergus. I cannot return to Hadrian without your answer. So, what will it be?”
Fergus groaned inwardly, as he stood rooted to the ground. It was a big decision, one that could send his life in a completely new direction. And as he stood in the tent, he suddenly frowned. What would Corbulo have done? What path would his grandfather have chosen? And as he thought of Corbulo, Fergus sighed. Corbulo would have wanted him to go as high as he could. His grandfather would want him to make something of himself.
“All right,” Fergus muttered, turning to face Adalwolf, “Tell Hadrian that I shall accept the secondment on one condition and that condition is non-negotiable.”
Chapter Thirty-Five – Efa’s wish
Saturnalia, late December 106 AD, The island of Vectis
Marcus laughed at the antics of the four children as they darted into cover behind the bushes and rolled in the thick snowdrifts, seeking advantage in the snowball fight. Marcus was proudly clad in his new tunic with two, vertical narrow, purple-stripes down the side and over that he was wearing a finely tailored sheepskin cloak. Around him the farm was quiet and only the mooing of the cattle in their pens disturbed the fine, crisp, cold winter afternoon. The fresh snowfall blanketed the fields, the roof of the outhouses and the villa, and on the horizon, grey clouds heralded the approach of more snow. From a doorway into the villa Kyna was watching the action with a smile on her face.
Life was good Marcus thought as he looked down at the gold equestrian ring on his finger. Life had never been better. Doors were opening and opportunity beckoned. The future looked bright and hopeful. It may have taken six months but after the land surveyor had produced his report, Marcus had received a letter all the way from Rome. It had come from Paulinus Picardus Tagliare, Prefect of the State Treasury and in it Paulinus had written that Marcus had been officially accepted into the equestrian order. He was now a knight with the right to wear a tunic with a narrow purple stripe down the side and a gold equestrian ring. The symbols of his newly- acquired social rank were just symbols. The real, unseen benefits of being part of the equestrian order was that now it was possible that he would come to the attention of powerful, influential men and that he could be considered for important positions within the provincial hierarchy. And the good news had not stopped there, for within a couple of months after he and Petrus had returned from Rome, the procurator, the most senior financial official in the province of Britannia, had announced that the investigation into Priscinus’s death had been halted due to lack of evidence. The threat to his farm had gone and that summer the new harvest had been one of the best on record. And to top it all, news had filtered through during the autumn that the war in Dacia had come to a successful conclusion.
At the corner of the barn, one of Dylis’s twins poked her head around the corner and spotting her, Marcus sent a well-aimed snowball hurtling towards her. He was rewarded by an excited shriek. Pretending not to notice little brave Armin charging towards him, Marcus threw up his arms and collapsed into the snow as he was struck by a snowball. With a triumphant cheer, the children came rushing out of their hiding places and began pelting Marcus, as he lay writhing in the snow. Marcus was just about to rise to his feet and do some pelting of his own, when a loud cry from around the front of the house made him hesitate. A few moments later one of the slaves came running through the door, his face lit up with excitement.
“What is going on?” Marcus asked, as he brushed the snow from his cloak and got to his feet.
“Sir, visitors approaching,” the slave cried out. “They are coming towards the front gate, I believe Sir,” the slave stammered. “I believe Sir that it may be your son, Fergus.”
Marcus went very still as he stared at the slave. Then in the doorway he saw Kyna raise a hand to her mouth in shock and swiftly vanish into the corridor. Hastily he hurried after her, followed by the slave and as he came out of the front door, he nearly collided with Dylis and Cunomoltus. Both looked excited as they raced on after Kyna, who was already halfway to the front gates. Anxiously, Marcus paused and turned to search the brilliant, white fields as he too, at a walk, headed for the front gates of his property. And as he did, he suddenly heard Kyna’s heartfelt shriek of joy. Coming slowly towards him along the frozen, white track, he suddenly saw two figures on horseback, riding towards the farm. As Marcus made it to the gates, he grunted in disbelief and joy. It was Fergus all right and his son was accompanied by a young woman of around nineteen wearing a cloak and hood that partially covered her blond hair. Strapped across her chest in a sling, the girl was carrying a small child, wrapped in a thick, warm bundle of cloth.
***
“There it is,” Fergus cried exci
tedly, as he sat on his horse and he and Galena slowly made their way down the frozen track. Through the trees the villa and its outhouses had become visible and as he caught sight of them, Fergus felt a strong feeling of nostalgia.
“That’s the farm where I grew up,” he said, smiling excitedly at Galena. “Oh, you should see it in summer when the forest is a riot of colours and the scent of freshly-cut grass fills the evening air. It’s magic.”
“I am sure it is beautiful but don’t get too attached, Fergus,” Galena said with a wise smile. “Remember we cannot stay here forever. We have a long journey ahead if we want to reach Aquincum by the end of spring.”
“I know, I know,” Fergus said with an eager look on his face. Then he turned and winked at his young wife. “Are you nervous? I mean you will be meeting my family for the first time. They are all right but don’t get Petrus started on his god or ask Jowan to explain how he chooses which crops to plant. They will bore you to death. Just a little tip. You have been warned.”
“I can handle myself,” Galena told him confidently, lifting her chin at her husband. “I managed to give birth and survive the arrival of Briana here. If I can handle that, then I can handle anything. No, the first thing I shall do,” Galena said, looking down fondly at Briana, “is to go straight to your mother and give her a kiss. Then after we have been introduced to everyone, I shall tell them that I want five children. And despite being posted to a place a very, long way from my home, I will raise our five children in the manner of my ancestors. But I shall insist that they learn to read and write. That dear husband will not be negotiable.”
Fergus grinned and turned to look at the farm as the two, slowly plodding horses started on the final stretch towards the main gates. As he stared at the villa up ahead, a slave hastily climbed down from a small, watch platform and went racing across the snow-covered courtyard and into the house. Fergus watched the man go. Then he sighed and looked down at the two, fat bags that were strapped to his saddle. The bags were filled with Dacian gold, more than enough to make him a very, very wealthy man, but he planned to leave most of it behind here on the family farm. Marcus would be able to make much better use of it than he could, especially now that Kyna’s last letter had said that his father had become a knight. It would be his gift to them.
Then as he looked down at the bags, he suddenly lowered his eyes in sombre reflection as his thoughts turned back to Dacia. Despite the doctor’s best attempts Vittius had not survived his wounds and they had burned his body outside their camp in the mountains of Dacia. Vittius’s death had been a bitter blow, for he had been there from the first day that Fergus had joined the legion. Afterwards Aledus had collected his ashes and interned them in a pot, which he’d said he would carry back to the legionary camp at Deva Victrix. The three of them, Aledus, Catinius and Fergus had agreed that once they had returned to Deva, they would pay for and erect a memorial stone for their lost comrade and that Vittius’s share of the Dacian gold and silver would be given to his family. The vexillation’s return to the home fortress of the Twentieth Legion had been both a joyous and sombre affair, for nearly half of the legionaries, who had marched out of Deva eighteen months earlier, had not returned from the Dacian war. But all his troubles had melted away when he had seen Galena coming to meet him, carrying Briana in her arms. That had been quite something.
Up ahead in the courtyard of the farm, Fergus’s sombre thoughts disappeared as he suddenly caught sight of a woman racing towards him, and with a jolt he realised that it was his mother Kyna. A moment later as Kyna recognised him, she gave a loud, heartfelt cry. Behind her, more figures were emerging from the house and running across the snow towards him and he recognised Dylis, Jowan, Petrus and Cunomoltus.
“Oh boy, my sweet boy, you have come home,” Kyna gasped, as she flung her arms around him and refused to let go. The tears of joy were rolling down her cheeks. Then a moment later Fergus was embracing Dylis and Cunomoltus, followed by Petrus and Jowan. Everyone was talking through and over each other in their excitement and eagerness.
But where was Marcus his father? Then Fergus caught sight of him, walking along behind the others, his hand raised in the air in greeting.
***
Marcus paused and reached out to steady himself. Fergus had come home at last. He could not believe it. He watched Fergus dismount and embrace Kyna, followed swiftly by Dylis and then Cunomoltus. Marcus held back a sudden emotion. How long ago was it since he had seen Fergus? It had to be more than two and half years. The boy he’d last seen had become a man. There was no doubt about it. A fine-looking young man with his father’s red hair and his mother’s big, proud and noble Celtic heart. Marcus began to walk towards the joyous gathering and as he did, he was swiftly overtaken by Petrus and Jowan, who came racing past and burst out into loud cheers as they caught sight of Fergus.
As he approached the ecstatic reunion, Marcus raised his hand in greeting and a big, welcoming smile appeared on his face. Fergus let go of Dylis and came towards him, shaking his head slowly from side to side. “Father,” Fergus said stiffly, as the two of them embraced. “It has been too long. It has been too long,” he repeated.
“It’s good to have you back Fergus,” Marcus said. “You have no idea. This is a momentous day son, a momentous day,” he repeated, as he clasped his son in his arms. Then hastily he let go of Fergus and stepped aside, so as not to let his emotions overwhelm him.
“Let me introduce you all to my wife Galena and my daughter Briana,” Fergus said with a big proud smile. He stepped back and helped Galena down from her horse. And as Galena reached the ground, she went straight up to Kyna and kissed her on the cheek and in reply Kyna, smiled through her tears and reached up to gently stroke Galena’s face.
“You are both most welcome, Galena and Briana,” Kyna said in a hoarse voice. “Our home is your own home.”
“I am afraid that we cannot stay for too long,” Fergus said with a sad sigh. “I have given a solemn oath that I will be in Aquincum on the Danube by the end of spring. I am on permanent secondment from the army.”
“You are on secondment from the army, so have you left the Twentieth?” Cunomoltus exclaimed raising his eyebrows in surprise.
“No, I am still officially and legally a member of the army but I am on permanent secondment,” Fergus replied. “A lot has happened and we have much to catch up on and today is Saturnalia but there will be time for everything.”
“Permanent secondment,” Marcus said looking at him with a frown. “What does that mean? Did you get an honourable discharge? Are you wounded, sick?”
“Nothing like that father,” Fergus said with another sigh, “I am well, healthy and fit but like I said much has happened. I have accepted a new posting which is going to take me away from Britannia. It is a good secondment and I am taking Galena and Briana with me to Aquincum so that we shall all be together. That was my one condition for accepting this new job. I am to be the principal bodyguard to the Governor of Lower Pannonia. The Governor’s name is Publius Aelius Hadrianus and he is going to be the next emperor of Rome.”
“Hadrian!” Marcus exclaimed in alarm. “You are going to be Hadrian’s bodyguard. Son. That means,” Marcus’s eyes widened in horror as he suddenly realised the implications. “That means that you are his man now. You are a supporter of Hadrian. The Gods are having a laugh.” As he said these words, Marcus felt a deep pit opening within his stomach. How could this be? How could Fergus end up in the political camp that was the sworn enemy of his own political network; the alliance led by Nigrinus. The gods were truly having a laugh.
“It doesn’t matter how long you can stay Fergus,” Kyna replied, as she wiped away the tears that were still streaming down her cheeks. “I am so glad that you are here, all three of you. You have no idea how much we have all missed you. We have been worried sick, but not today. Today is a joyous day, for you have come home and at last we are all together again.”
“You must come and see Efa right aw
ay,” Dylis cried out, as tears came trickling down her cheeks too. “She does not have much longer to live, Fergus. She is very ill and frail. But she has been waiting for this day. She has been holding out for this day; the day when we are all together again. That was her wish. She will be so pleased to see you and your family. It is the very hope of seeing this day happen that has kept her alive. The doctors say she should have died a year ago. Come, come Fergus, let’s get to the house.”
As Fergus and Galena were excitedly and loudly escorted through the gates of the farm and on towards the villa, Marcus remained behind, watching Fergus with troubled, worried eyes. As he did, Fergus turned around sharply and gazed back at him with a non-understanding frown. Slowly Marcus turned away towards the distant forest and lifted his eyes to look up at the grey, cold overcast skies. The gods might be having a laugh but they had also kept their side of the bargain he’d struck with them on the beach, more than a year ago. Fergus was alive and he had come home, but as a supporter of Hadrian. Of all the people in the empire, it had to be Hadrian, the arch-enemy of his new friends in Rome. Fate had placed Fergus in an opposing political camp and this was going to cause trouble. He knew it deep down in his bones. Grimly Marcus stared up at the approaching snow clouds. Nevertheless, Fergus had come home and he was alive and that meant that one day the gods would come to collect their payment. For the immortals always did and when the demand came, he would have to pay. And he would pay with his life, for that had been the bargain he’d struck and one did not cheat on the gods.
***
Fergus was swept along towards the villa by his loud, excited family. But as a multitude of voices and questions swirled around him, he turned sharply to look back at Marcus who had remained where he was. What had his father meant by the gods were having a laugh? His reaction was bizarre. Something clearly seemed to be bothering his father and he was fairly certain it had to do with his secondment and new appointment as Hadrian’s bodyguard. And as he strode on, looking back at Marcus, he saw his father turn away and look up at the sky with a sombre expression. And as he stared at Marcus in growing puzzlement, Fergus suddenly had the strangest sensation that trouble lay ahead.
The Dacian War (Book 6 of the Veteran of Rome Series) Page 32
