Hostage to Fortuna

by R. W. Peake

  “Do you like what you see, Roman?”

  That it was a woman’s voice, speaking Latin, caused me to look up in some surprise; the fact that it was the copper-haired girl I am afraid made me gasp in shock, which I instantly saw amused her greatly.

  “I…I…” I felt like an idiot, but somehow managed to get out, “I was thinking of this as a gift.”

  “Oh?” she asked, raising an eyebrow that I took to be surprise. “For your wife?”

  Why was she surprised that I might have a wife? I wondered, feeling a stab of irritation, and I am afraid I let it show as I said coldly, “We’re not allowed to be married during our time in the Legion, lady.”

  Now she was obviously shocked, while I noticed that my hunch about the color of her eyes had been correct; if anything, they were a deeper, richer green color than her gown, although it was the sprinkling of freckles across her nose and cheeks that got my equal attention.

  “You cannot have a woman?” she asked skeptically. “And how long do you stay in this Legion, Roman?”

  “We enlist for a period of twenty years,” I answered, then thought to add, “Although our Imperator Tiberius is considering raising it to twenty-five years.”

  This elicited a gasp, but before we could continue our conversation, a bearded man of about forty walked up, and he cut in, addressing the girl in their tongue, his gaze shifting back and forth between us. Obviously, since I had no idea what was being said, I was paying close attention, and to my ears, he sounded somewhat suspicious, but then I saw her indicate the necklace. Immediately, the man’s entire demeanor changed, and he turned to me wearing a broad smile, making a small bow. This, I realized, was the merchant who ran this stall, and it was with a small but surprising stab of disappointment that I concluded this must be his much younger wife. Who, it must be said, did not appear pleased at the interruption at all, because she snapped something at him, but his reaction was even more surprising and confusing. Rather than being angry at being rebuked, he held both hands up in a placating gesture, and said something in a tone that reminded me of the kind I use with Latobius when he is getting too hard to control. This seemed to mollify the woman, her tone softening as she said something else, which clearly surprised him, and he turned his gaze back to me. Suddenly, I became very uncomfortable at the way the pair were intensely interested, and I saw others nearby turning to pay attention.

  “I apologize for the interruption, Roman.” She switched back to Latin, which, to my ear, was better than Ivomagus’. “You were telling me that you Romans who are in your Legions cannot have a woman? And,” she finished, “that you enlist for twenty years?”

  “Yes,” I answered cautiously, whereupon she turned back to the bearded man to speak rapidly, and I saw his eyes widen in astonishment.

  This was the moment where I thought I might have an idea of what might be so interesting, but before I could speak up, she turned back to me and said, “So, you Romans do not lay with a woman for twenty years?”

  I burst out laughing, my suspicion confirmed, and I shook my head, assuring her, “No, what I said is that we cannot be married. Not,” I thought to amend, “legally, under our law. But,” I grinned at her, “no, that doesn’t mean we don’t lay with women.”

  Did she look relieved? I wondered. And if so…why?

  “So,” she indicated the necklace, “who is this for?” Her tone turned teasing, “One of those women that you can lay with but not marry?”

  I was tempted to say yes just to see how she reacted, but I admitted the truth.

  “I was thinking of it as a gift for my mother, for when I return.”

  She did react, but not in the manner I was anticipating, as her expression softened.

  “She must be very worried about you,” she said soberly. I suppose my reaction prompted her to explain, “We have heard that your ship was in a storm and blown all the way here. My father has traveled to Germania many times, and he told me how far away it is.”

  I did not really know what to say, though I managed to mumble, “I’m sure she is…worried, I mean. But all of my men have mothers, and families, and that’s why we are working so hard to get back.” I grinned at her. “Because nobody likes worrying their mother, even Romans.”

  This made her laugh, and I did not get the sense that she was doing so out of politeness

  “We would not want that,” she agreed. Then her face changed again, and she became businesslike, picking up the necklace so that I could examine it more closely. “It is a very fine necklace,” she said as she laid the pendant into my palm.

  She was not wrong, and I imagined how it would look around my mother’s neck.

  “How much?”

  Rather than answer immediately, she turned and talked to the bearded man, and I thought I heard the word denarii, but I could not be sure.

  Finally, she turned back and said, “Since we do not use the same kind of coin, my father says that we would ask three gold coins that we use. Which,” she paused, “he says would be twenty-five of your denarii.”

  “Twenty-five denarii!” I gasped. “That’s ridiculous!” I saw that she did not understand the word, so I said, “That is far too expensive.”

  “If you cannot afford it,” she replied, shrugging indifferently, “that is unfortunate.”

  “I can afford it,” I snapped, stung by her implication. “I can afford to buy ten of these necklaces if I choose to. But…”

  “You do not have ten mothers,” she answered coolly. “Only one. And,” this time, she did not shrug; instead, she tossed her head so that her unbound hair flipped back, “she is clearly not worth it to you.”

  Fortunately, that was when I realized what she was doing and I had almost fallen for it; I cannot say if I was more amused or irritated, and I decided to have some revenge. Unfortunately, I did not get the opportunity, because just then, I heard the clattering sound of hooves, turning just in time to see Cogidubnus enter the square at the head of his party.

  “I must go speak to your king,” I said, then added awkwardly, “If I have the opportunity, I will come back and we can conclude our business.”

  I turned without waiting for an answer, but I had only gone a couple of paces when she called out.

  “Roman!” I turned, but to my surprise, she stepped out of the stall and came hurrying up to me, and in the process, she got closer than ever as she looked up at me. When she spoke, I could barely hear her. “Please, be careful when dealing with King Cogidubnus. He is not to be trusted!”

  Before I could say anything one way or another, she stepped away from me, turned about, and walked briskly back to where her father was standing, looking worried. Despite the disturbing words, and the fact that Cogidubnus had seen me and was heading towards me, I could not take my eyes off her as she walked away.

  Through a series of gestures, I was informed that Cogidubnus expected me to ride with him to the hall, which I did of course, but when I indicated the camp as we passed by, trying to communicate that I needed to let Saloninus know, he ignored me, and he did not slow down as he swept past the Porta Praetoria at the trot. I did consider refusing to stay on the chariot, but I was so heavily outnumbered that it was only for a heartbeat’s worth of time. I was still wearing my armor and my helmet, but that was small comfort because I was completely on my own. Cogidubnus did not say anything, but I was not bothered about that since there was nothing we could say to each other, and besides, he seemed more interested in chattering to one of his warriors. Judging from the gestures, I thought they were probably talking about the hunt, and there were several boars slung from poles, along with a couple of stags, but I felt certain that what they were talking about was the wolf that was slung over the back of Cogidubnus’ saddle, its tongue hanging out of its half-open mouth while its eyes were open. It had a wound to its chest that I was certain was from a spear, and I wondered what would happen to the skin, thinking that perhaps if I offered to overpay for it to give to Gemellus, since his had become s
omewhat ratty and worn, it might be seen as a good faith gesture. First, however, I had to survive whatever was coming, and when I saw the hall, I admit that my stomach did a flip. Obviously, someone had been sent ahead of our party, because what I assumed was the entire complement of servants and slaves were standing outside waiting to help the party to dismount, and begin the process of preparing what I assumed would be a major part of the feast. Ivomagus came out of the hall, but he ignored me and walked to Cogidubnus, speaking in their tongue. Although the king did not look over at me, I saw his expression darken, and he began striding towards the hall. I moved to follow, not with the thought that I would be allowed, but to confirm that I would not, and Ivomagus stepped in front of me.

  “I will ask that you wait out here for the moment, Centurion,” he said, but I was beginning to get angry.

  “You’re asking me?” I replied acidly. “Or are you telling me?”

  It was irritating, but my jibe did not fluster Ivomagus in the slightest, and he said only, “However you wish to think of it, Centurion, you will stay here until someone comes to get you.”

  He did not wait for my response, nor did he need to; I was not about to do something so foolish, not all alone. I was concerned that once Saloninus determined that I was no longer in the town and not in camp that he would sound the alarm and assemble the men to come look for me. That could only end badly, yet at the same time, I also knew that, if Cogidubnus decided to seize me or detain me in some way, they would come because I would have done the same thing for any of my men, no matter what rank. Not for the first time, I really missed having the rest of my Cohort with me, and I wondered if they were safely home in Ubiorum. My thoughts were interrupted when one of the doors to the hall opened, and a man I recognized as one of Cogidubnus’ bodyguards stepped out, indicating that I should enter with a jerk of his head. When I reached him, however, he pointed to my gladius.

  “No,” I said flatly, and while he may not have spoken Latin, he clearly understood the message, because his face flushed, and he reached down to grab the hilt.

  That was a mistake, which he quickly learned when I clamped my left hand down on his wrist and squeezed, hard, which prompted him to give a most undignified yelp of pain, but when he tried to jerk his wrist out of my grasp, I made sure that I used enough force that it did not budge.

  “That,” I said this pleasantly enough, “is with my left hand, my weak hand.”

  “Centurion!”

  I turned to see that Ivomagus had hurried over in clear alarm, but I barely glanced at him, looking instead over his shoulder at Cogidubnus.

  “He’s not taking my weapon,” I told Ivomagus, but my eyes never left Cogidubnus.

  “My brother, the King, instructed Senaculus to take your sword,” he argued, and I was certain I sensed a note of, if not panic, then something close to it.

  “Tell your brother that if he wants my gladius, he can come and take it,” I replied, trying to sound calm and matter-of-fact.

  “I cannot tell him that!” Ivomagus gasped.

  I did look at Ivomagus now, the both of us completely ignoring this Senaculus, who had at least stopped trying to wrench his arm out of my grasp.

  “You expect me to trust you, but your brother is making that difficult,” I said. “Given what I’m sure we’re going to be talking about, it makes me nervous when he wants me to surrender my weapon. Especially when,” I pointed out, “he brought me here without allowing me to at least let my second in command know that I was coming here.”

  I saw immediately by his reaction that Ivomagus had been unaware of this. And, he confirmed I was telling the truth when he spun about and spoke to Cogidubnus, who, I could see, suddenly looked somewhat uncomfortable. The exchange did not last long, and it was cut short when Cogidubnus gave an irritated wave, and Ivomagus exhaled in what I believed was relief.

  “You may keep your weapon, Centurion,” he said, and I immediately released Senaculus’ wrist, trying not to smile as he used his other hand to rub it as he glared at me.

  I followed Ivomagus to the table that had become our customary meeting spot, except that the king remained standing.

  Ivomagus wasted no time, beginning, “I have already informed my brother of your actions yesterday, but he has some questions of his own, which I will translate.” I nodded my understanding, then, without saying anything to his brother, he asked, “Why did you defy my order to wait for my return?”

  It took a heartbeat for me to realize that Ivomagus was repeating the question directly, as if it was Cogidubnus asking.

  “I made the decision,” I said carefully, speaking slowly so that Ivomagus would have the opportunity to translate my words exactly as I said them, or so I hoped, “to cross the river based on my concern for my men.” I waited, and when Cogidubnus nodded, I went on, “My concern was based in the knowledge that there are men of the Parisii who want to attack my men and do not want to help us return home.”

  I was a bit surprised that Ivomagus did not hesitate or ask me to rephrase it, which I found curious. However, in all of Ivomagus’ gibberish, I heard a word that I thought was a name, which seemed to be confirmed because immediately after Ivomagus said it, I saw Cogidubnus’ eyes flick to a corner of the hall. It was a corner that I had seemingly barely glanced at when I came in, but had seen the black-bearded warrior standing, glowering at me. So, his name is Berdic, I thought, tucking this away for later.

  When Ivomagus turned back to me, I took it as a sign to continue, “I did not do this lightly, nor was it my intention to rupture the peace between your people and the Brigantes. I,” I shrugged, “just want to get my men home safely, so that they can see their families again, and I thought this was the fastest way to do so once I learned that the only timber in Parisii land that was suitable was so far away.”

  I fell silent, watching the king’s face as Ivomagus translated my words, but when he was through, Cogidubnus said something that seemed to catch his brother by surprise, although it was a shade compared to my own reaction.

  “My brother wants to know why, when you were confronted by the Brigantes, that you did not just kill all of them?”

  Is this a trap? This was the thought that went through my mind, yet I also sensed that I needed to not hesitate, though I cannot say why.

  “Because,” I answered quickly, “I did not want to offend the king by killing enemies that he would have rather slain himself.”

  I saw that I had given the right answer in Ivomagus’ eyes, and his mustache twitched before he turned and relayed my words. And, I confess that at first I thought we were both wrong, because Cogidubnus did not react immediately, choosing instead to just stare at me with those hard, unyielding eyes. Suddenly, without any warning, once again, he began bellowing with laughter, long, loud, and hard, until he was bent over at the waist, while all the men in the room followed suit, although I am certain this was through sycophancy and not out of any thought it was truly humorous. More importantly, he walked over to the table, moving around it to stand next to me while I came to my feet. He reached out to clasp my shoulder, and even with my hamata, I could feel the power there in his grip, but what mattered was what he said, which Ivomagus translated.

  “My brother says,” Ivomagus was smiling, “he knew he had made the right decision when he decided to spare you and your men.”

  I cannot say I cared for it being put that way, but I pretended to enjoy the humor; if my laughter rang falsely, he did not seem to notice. He turned and said something to Ivomagus.

  “My brother says that he would like to come and observe you and your men as you make your repairs,” Ivomagus relayed.

  And, even if I had been disposed to disagree, I knew it was not a request, so I answered, “We would be honored.”

  With that, I was offered a horse to return to the camp, and I was even allowed to do so on my own. I entered the camp to find that Saloninus was in the process of assembling the men to come and search for me, and I was happy to tell th
em there was no need.

  “We’re starting in the morning,” I informed the officers, though I did it outside my tent. “And hopefully, we’ll be leaving this fucking island in two or three days.”

  That, as it turned out, was accurate; at least, it was accurate for almost everyone.

  Being honest, the actual repairs to the trireme were somewhat anticlimactic. Despite our fears that the cog or the ratchet would fail because the iron was not tempered properly, it worked perfectly. Not that seeing a large ship being lifted out of the water, then hauled over to the spot on the riverbank next to the dock by an even dozen ropes, each of them being pulled by a combination of oxen and a half-dozen of my men, before being lowered gently to the ground is not impressive, and Cogidubnus watched with what I would describe as rapt attention. He was not alone; I believe that the entire town had turned out to watch, and in fact, we had to ask the king to use some of his men to move the crowd back and safely out of the way. I did catch a glimpse of the copper-haired girl, and our eyes met, but then Cogidubnus asked a question, which Ivomagus translated, and I had to turn my attention away. Aiding our cause was that, to our relief, the planks that had to be replaced in the hull were those that Motius and Cador had seen from the inside of the ship, although I learned that there were aspects of replacing the planks that presented a number of challenges.

  “The lumber that we must use was not meant for a ship,” Motius explained. “It is seasoned, but not to the degree that we would normally use for the hull.”