by R. W. Peake
“Centurion,” Ivomagus began the serious part of the meeting, “I have already told my brother what you are asking, and what you are offering in return.”
“And?”
I directed this to Ivomagus, but I kept my eyes on his brother, whose expression had returned to what I suppose he thought of as his kingly demeanor, his eyes back to their cold gaze.
There was a silence that lasted long enough to make me turn to look directly at Ivomagus, but he did say, “While he does not reject the deal outright, he has some…questions.”
“What kind of questions?”
When Ivomagus repeated my query, Cogidubnus began speaking, and since I only had his tone to go by, I was not getting a comforting feeling. He spoke for several heartbeats, and I began watching Ivomagus more intently, because once the king was finished, instead of translating it, Ivomagus appeared agitated and talked to his brother, using his hands quite spiritedly, including pointing at me. The king clearly did not like what his brother was saying, and while he did not raise his voice to a shout, I sensed movement off to the side, and I glanced over at the door just in time to see a bearded face peer in through the crack, clearly drawn by the noise, although he shut it quickly, neither Parisii seeming to notice. I felt the sweat starting to trickle down my temple; I had taken my helmet off and set it on the table, and I tried to surreptitiously drop my right hand from where it had been resting on the table to my lap. Fortunately, I was completely forgotten as the two brothers argued, but finally, Cogidubnus’ voice changed to an inflection that I did not need translated, because it was the same tone I used with a subordinate when I was done discussing it and expected them to obey orders.
Ivomagus’ face darkened, yet there was only a slight hesitation as he turned to look at me and said, “King Cogidubnus says he has not made up his mind, but he orders me to remind you that he only has to say a word, and five thousand warriors will be at his command.”
He stopped, dropping his eyes from mine.
“And?” I demanded, and my voice was every bit as cold as the king’s. “I don’t think that’s all he said, Ivomagus.”
“No,” he admitted, then took a breath and went on, “he also said that if he chooses to, he can free our men without giving up anything, and if you try to stop us, you will all die.”
There it was; my worst fear seemed confirmed. A barbarian king was nakedly threatening me, a Centurion of Rome and the two Centuries aboard that ship, with slaughter instead of negotiation. Suddenly, I felt something deep inside me stir; I can only use the description my father had given me, that it was as if a slumbering beast deep within me had just been awakened and was stretching itself, ready and waiting for me to unleash it. I was growing angry, there is no doubt; however, I also had a small voice telling me that this was more of a test than a threat. What I did know with certainty was that much rested on my response and the manner in which I responded.
It was through clenched teeth, but I answered, “That is true. Your brother could order his warriors to attack us, and there is no doubt that his warriors could kill us to the last man.” I paused, letting Ivomagus know I wanted him to interpret this, which he did, although Cogidubnus’ demeanor did not alter as he continued to look at me steadily. Once Ivomagus was finished, I continued, “However, I would be remiss if I did not point out that my men, from the Fourth Cohort of the 1st Legion, are only here because of a storm that blew us off course. We were returning home, as you know.” Suddenly, I had an inspiration, and I asked Ivomagus, “Did you tell your brother the particulars of our voyage home?”
“Particulars?” I could see he was puzzled by the unfamiliar word.
“What I meant was, did you tell him that we were heading to Ubiorum because we defeated Arminius? That his confederation of tribes has been shattered, and Rome has conquered Germania?”
While most of this was true, I was stretching the truth about whether we have conquered Germania, but I got my answer in Ivomagus’ reaction, which was to shift uncomfortably on his bench, dropping his eyes as his brother eyed him with curiosity.
“No,” he admitted. “I did not.”
“Tell him, Ivomagus.”
“I do not see why that is necessary…”
“Yes you do,” I countered, being careful to keep my tone civil. Then I took a gamble. “I don’t think you like where this is going, Ivomagus, and neither do I, for obvious reasons. You need to tell him why we’re here.”
He did so, or I assumed he did, and considering I heard “Germania” and “Arminius,” I felt confident he had, although it was Cogidubnus’ reaction that was the most telling. Britannia is an island, that is true, but I was confident that they had heard enough about Rome’s campaign against Arminius that this barbarian king would be familiar with his name.
Once I was satisfied that Cogidubnus was aware of our recent history, I continued, “What that means to your brother is that my men are very experienced, and while I do not doubt what he says, I am asking that he not doubt me when I tell him that the cost of what he is talking about will be very, very high for the Parisii.” Ivomagus, looking every bit as reluctant with his brother as he had been with me, did relay my words, but before Cogidubnus could respond, I held up a hand, which infuriated him, to add, “Finally, there is something else he needs to know. First, ask him if he knows who Germanicus Julius Caesar is?” Ivomagus did so, and Cogidubnus nodded, and I went on, “My father, who died not long ago,” the sudden stab to my heart when I said this caught me by surprise, but I kept going, “was a close friend of Germanicus. In fact, he served as the Primus Pilus…” I realized that term had no meaning, “…or the chief Centurion of the Legion that bore Germanicus’ name a few years ago, in Pannonia.” This is true, but I was not finished. “And before my father died, he asked Germanicus to personally look after my welfare and do whatever he could to help me.” This is also true, which I am still trying to comprehend, although I now know more about the true nature of that agreement now than I did at that moment. “And I have been personally decorated by Germanicus himself.” Within these pages, only here will I say that this is not true; or it was not true at the time, although I had received a set of phalarae the year before at his order, but I still believe it was for a good reason. Continuing, I indicated myself as I said, “Naturally, if you have to slaughter my men, you will have to kill me to do it. And,” now I leaned forward to get closer to the Parisii king to look him directly in the eye, “if that happens, the entire might of Rome will visit this island, and your people, and the other tribes of Britannia, will curse the name of Cogidubnus for bringing such destruction and horror to these lands.”
“I cannot tell my brother that,” Ivomagus gasped, but I was not going to be swayed on this, and I spat, “You better tell him every fucking word of what I said, or I swear by my gods and yours, I’ll gut you before I’m struck down.”
Now Ivomagus was visibly shaking, which his brother noticed, his eyebrows plunging down towards each other, and his tone was sharp as he, presumably, demanded to know what I had said. There is no way to accurately calculate the time it took for Ivomagus to translate my words, but it was long enough for me to wipe my right palm on my tunic before placing it on the hilt of my gladius, under the table. Naturally, I watched Cogidubnus with keen interest as Ivomagus, in a shaky voice, relayed to his brother what I had told him. And, if truth be told, I was certain that I had sealed my fate, judging by the manner in which the Parisii king’s face went through a range of emotions. I was certainly not trying to keep track, though I definitely noticed them; the widening of the eyes and the glance at me as his brother presumably spoke of my father’s link to Germanicus, the intense expression as Ivomagus explained how that connection pertained to me, followed by a sudden rush of color to his face as his brother conveyed the last part of what I had said, which was nothing less than a threat, although I had done my best to express it as a promise. Once Ivomagus had finished, Cogidubnus was glaring at me, and I did not need to
know the man to see the fury there as I prepared to defend myself, so certain was I that the Parisii king would either launch himself across the table at me, or worse for me, shout for his bodyguards. What I was unprepared for was, after a span of heartbeats, his expression transforming, and he began roaring with laughter, then slapping the table with a hand as he leaned back, gasping for breath; honestly, I thought he had gone mad, and judging from Ivomagus’ reaction, we were of the same mind. Only afterward did I think that, if it had been an act, I should have been up and moving, although there was no way I would have survived. Thankfully, it was not an act. Finally composing himself enough to speak, Cogidubnus spoke to Ivomagus as he wiped his eyes, and when his brother turned to me, there was a broad smile across his face.
“My brother likes you, Centurion,” he informed me. “He wanted to see if you were a true warrior like he is, and he got his answer.” This was flattering, but what he said next was the most important. “He said, of course he accepts your terms. We will provide you with the means to repair your ship, then give you enough food and water to return home, in exchange for the release of…”
Suddenly, Ivomagus’ composure crumbled. He stopped speaking, unable to go any further, dropping his face into his hands as his shoulders were wracked with sobs. And, in that moment, I saw that, whatever else his faults and flaws may have been, Cogidubnus truly loved his brother. What was not apparent in that moment was that I had sealed my own fate.
“We’re heading for Petuar,” I told the officers of both ship and Legion that evening in my quarters. Using the map, I pointed at the very western edge as I explained, “It’s five miles upstream and is the only Parisii town on the river that’s large enough to suit our needs.” I was not expecting it, but this announcement elicited a small cheer from the assembled officers, and I tried to hide my surprise and pleasure. “Yes, well, we’re going to row upstream, and King Cogidubnus has already sent word for the men who work on their ships to make preparations for our arrival.”
“How long will we be there?” Columella asked, and for this, I turned to Cador and Motius.
“It all depends on how far we have to go for a mast,” Motius said, which I saw irritated Cador, and I recall thinking with grim humor, That’s the least of your worries, Cador. “Since we are stuck on the river, I have no idea whether there are forests with trees tall enough for our needs.”
This was not a satisfying answer, but it was an honest one, and I did not blame Motius for being cautious.
“When do we start out?”
Again, I turned to the seamen, who had a brief discussion in their own tongue.
“There’s no reason we could not start immediately,” Cador answered, then held up a hand, “but that depends on whether we can find a Parisii who knows the river well enough to navigate in the dark.”
“What’s to navigate?” Mus scoffed. “It’s five miles upriver. How hard can it be?”
In this, Motius was clearly comfortable letting Cador answer, which made sense once I thought about it, and he did not hesitate.
“Other than logjams, sandbars, and mud river bottom?” Cador shot back. “It is very simple.”
Mus was clever enough to understand he had been outflanked, and he mumbled, “All right, you made your point.”
“How many men got fed?” I asked Saloninus, and here the news was not so good.
“Less than half of both us and the crew,” he answered soberly. “We talked about making the portions even less to feed everyone else, but that would have meant less than a mouthful.”
“Pluto’s cock,” I muttered.
“Did you get fed at least, Pilus Prior?”
I know that Columella did not mean it in a mean-spirited manner, but it still made me uncomfortable to lie. “I got a few bites of some meat. Now,” I turned to more practical matters, “I’m going to have you,” I indicated Saloninus, Columella, and Mus, “let the boys know what’s going on.”
“What about the slaves?” Motius asked. “What do we tell them?”
“Well,” I answered, not without some bitterness, “since Ivomagus decided not to return, I suppose you can tell them they need to do their job and row us upstream.”
It was actually a fortunate thing that Ivomagus made a liar out of me, although I will say this much, the man who was rowed back to the ship did not resemble the former slave in the slightest. The sun was just about to set when Ivomagus reappeared; we had deemed it safe enough to move next to the dock, but it was a quite different Ivomagus than the last time I laid eyes on him. His full beard was gone, although he still had the long mustache that is so popular with the tribes of both Gaul and Briton, but it was the change in his attire that was most striking. He was wearing a blue tunic, except that, in a similar manner to Cogidubnus’ tunic, it had a pattern on it, and the stripes were green, albeit a darker green than his brother’s tunic. In effect, it was more subdued, except this was set off by a red cloak that, to my eye, appeared very similar to the paludamentum of the Roman Legate. Also like his brother, he was wearing a torq, but most importantly, he smelled much better than the galley slave he had been not long before. When he boarded, I could not help laughing.
“I don’t even recognize you,” I told him, and I was only partly jesting.
“I am not sure I know myself,” he replied, but while it was with a smile, I saw the pain there, and I was struck by the thought that, the more I got to know Ivomagus, the more I liked the man. This was destined to change quite dramatically, making me wonder how I would have behaved if I had known this.
“What matters is whether your fellow…” I managed to stop myself in time from saying “slaves,” changing to, “…Parisii recognize you.”
I saw in his eyes that he was not fooled, but to his credit, he made no comment about it, saying only, “I would like to go below to let them know what is happening.”
Naturally, I agreed, and within perhaps a hundred heartbeats, we knew that he had relayed the good news by the dull roar that emanated from belowdecks.
When I returned to my cabin, Alex was waiting, and I asked him, “Did you get anything to eat?”
He shook his head, saying only, “I thought the men should eat first.”
“Well,” I reached into the sack that I had asked the Parisii to provide that was stuffed with the leftover meat and half a loaf of their oat bread and tossed it to him, “this should help.”
He will never admit it, but I know that if I had managed to somehow summon Algaia to this spot and presented him with a choice, he would have stepped over his woman to wolf down the contents of that sack. Oh, he would have hesitated, but he would have done it anyway. Women certainly satisfy a hunger, except this time, that hunger was nothing compared to the sound of his stomach complaining, which I could hear across the cabin.
Just before we set out before dawn the next morning, a pair of Parisii appeared on the dock, and through Ivomagus, we learned that they were men who had experience on this river, and Cador and Motius welcomed them aboard. Ivomagus stayed with us as well, telling me that his brother was leaving for Petuar at the same time, and naturally, he would arrive well before we did. I had actually managed almost two full watches of sleep, and I felt better than I had in some time, although I was still unhappy because, while my men were in better shape than they had been, they were still hungry. We actually held a private meeting, because Ivomagus had offered to command the women of the village bake more bread, but it would not be ready until sometime after dawn, so we made the decision that it would be better to let the men go hungry for another couple of watches than only partially quelling their hunger now. Naturally, none of the officers uttered a word to the men, who I had allowed to return to wearing just their tunics, with the exception of a section from each Century, who were on deck, arrayed on both sides, and we pulled away from the dock. For my part, I had to constantly remind myself that this was no time to celebrate; any number of things could go wrong, but although I did not discount the possibili
ty that Cogidubnus might do exactly what he had threatened, and be waiting with several hundred warriors or more in Petuar to seize his captive tribesmen and slaughter us in the process, I honestly did not believe he would. I did have concerns, not about the trustworthiness of the Parisii, but because, from what I had seen at this first village, I held doubts that even in what Ivomagus told me was a town of five thousand people, that Petuar had the ability to allow us to replace the mast and the buckled timbers below the waterline that, when I was taken below to examine it, looked like nothing more than a square of pitched canvas had been nailed in place around the hole. Motius had informed me that, while it was leaking, it was not a problem provided that we had men continually bailing.
“But if we have another storm anywhere near the power of the first one,” he had informed me grimly, “we will be in big trouble.”
Those were the two main repairs that had to be made that were beyond the capability of the crew, although it was only because they lacked the materials and the means to drag a ship this size up onto land to effect repairs. Food was most critical in the short term, but I was unwilling to risk the lives of my men crossing the channel to Gaul, even if, as we had discussed, we made landfall in a Gallic port then marched back to Ubiorum, rather than sail back around the coast to the Rhenus. Once we were underway, our progress was maddeningly slow because we were rowing upstream, and we knew it was not because of the Parisii, who were every bit as anxious and eager to finish what should be the last watches of their time as slaves. Both Motius and Cador had resigned themselves to losing the Parisii, but they alternated in their attempts to get me to change my mind about agreeing to release of the rest of the crew. Finally, I had had enough, and I had to give them a display of my temper before they desisted. Again, I was not unsympathetic, because I understood it would be very costly to purchase another crew, but my reasoning was, and still is that, given how the Parisii reacted to the idea of the other men remaining in their status as slaves, I was saving Motius’, Cador’s, and the gods only know how many other lives. And, honestly, they should have anticipated that there would be a bond between these men who had endured what is a miserable existence, and in truth, ever since that time, I have had more reservations about the wisdom of using slave crews than I ever had in my life prior to that moment.