by R. W. Peake
He did not laugh; indeed, he looked more troubled, and I cursed myself for bringing up a natural opening for him to ask what Septimus had been forced to do in order to raise this sum, but to my intense relief, he did not.
In fact, he seemed quite preoccupied, which he partially explained, “I can’t stay long. That cunnus Cogidubnus is holding a feast for me, and I want to at least get a proper bath before I go.”
“A bath?” I repeated, then I asked laughingly, “What, did they build you a Roman bath?”
This did make him grin.
“Not quite, but almost.”
He went on to explain the arrangements that had been made, and this was when I heard him mention Tincommius for what would be the first but not the last time, and I sensed that Gnaeus had developed a true regard for some of these Parisii. At the time, I had no idea exactly how deep that regard went with one Parisii in particular, but I was within watches of finding out.
“Did you bring my baggage?” he asked, which slightly offended me.
“Of course,” I answered indignantly.
“Get out my uniform,” he told me. “All of it.”
This surprised me, and I asked, “When you say everything, do you mean…everything?”
“Yes,” he said tersely, but I suppose he read my unease, because he explained, “I’m going to attend this feast as a Centurion of Rome, and I want all of my decorations.”
I saw that he was determined, but I still was not ready to give in.
“Are you certain that showing up in armor and carrying your gladius is a good idea?”
“No,” he answered honestly, then grinned, “but when have I ever had a good idea?” Turning serious, he said, “I just want to give these savages a reminder that Rome isn’t going anywhere.”
This seemed unnecessarily provocative to me, and as I learned later, this was exactly why he wanted to wear his uniform, but I also could see he would not be swayed. I went to the chest containing everything he needed, unwrapping the two phalarae and the silver arm ring that he had been awarded after the Long Bridges. Nestled in the bottom was a torq that, while now his property, had been earned by his father during his first campaign, and seeing it gave me the idea.
“You know,” I picked up the torq and unwrapped it, “if you wanted to impress these barbarians, you should wear this as well.”
I saw that he was tempted, but he shook his head.
“I didn’t earn that, my father did. You know I’m not authorized to wear that.”
“And who in Ubiorum will ever know?” I asked, then grinned as I assured him, “I certainly won’t tell. I like my job.”
He laughed, but he nodded as he agreed, “You’re right. And, yes, I’ll wear it.”
Once I had pulled everything out, we had a moment where we tried to come up with a way for him to take everything with him without it being obvious that it was armor, helmet, and gladius. Which I pretended not to notice as his eyes turned moist when he slid it out of its scabbard, looking at it as if it was a long-lost lover finally returned to his embrace. If I had not seen my Uncle Titus with the exact same expression, I would have thought it odd, but I know what that gladius means to any man bearing the Pullus name. Finally, we just laid out his sagum, placed his armor on it, then laid his harness and vitus on top of that, then rolled the sagum up, and used a sack to put his helmet in, laying the wrapped decorations and torq in the helmet. It was not perfect, but at least it was not immediately obvious what we were carrying. We went back up on deck, but when he walked to the boat and four of his escorts dropped down into their boat, I stayed where I was, prompting him to stop.
“Well? Are you coming or not?”
“You want me to come with you?”
“Unless you like eating whatever slop there is aboard this ship. Besides,” he laughed, “you don’t think I’m going to polish this stuff myself, do you?”
“Of course not,” I grumbled, but I did not mean it. “We wouldn’t want you to get your hands dirty.”
“I’m glad to see we think alike,” he said just before he swung a leg over and dropped out of sight, and I hurried to join him.
I was as surprised as Alex when none of my guards, including Gorteryn and Lugotorix, demanded to see what was in the bundle that I made Alex carry, while I carried the sack with my helmet and decorations.
“This happy fellow,” I pointed at Gorteryn, “is Gorteryn. And that,” I nodded at Lugotorix, “is Lugotorix. The rest,” I waved a hand at them, “I only know they’re members of Cogidubnus’ bodyguard. And,” I maintained the same tone, “none of them can understand a word we say.”
It took a moment to find Alex a horse for himself, but then Tincommius came to the rescue by leading a saddled mount up to the dock, and while there was some awkwardness with the bundle, worrying me that he might drop it and my gladius would fall out, he managed neatly, and soon we were heading out of town. I had made a point to keep my eyes straight ahead and not scan the crowd, which had thinned considerably, which meant that, of course, it was Alex who saw Bronwen, just before we turned the corner and would be out of sight.
“I remember her!” he exclaimed, and before I could stop myself, I glanced over to see her standing there, watching us. Alex frowned, and looked at me as he asked, “Is that a black eye she has?”
“Yes,” I said flatly, hoping that I sounded disinterested, but without being aware of it, Alex fanned the flames by asking, “What kind of man would hit a woman that hard?”
“A fucking cunnus,” I snarled.
“Do you know who did it?” he asked, and I sensed some unease in his voice, as if he was suddenly aware that there was more to this matter.
Thankfully, we had just turned the corner so that Bronwen was no longer in sight, and I answered, “Yes.”
Even better, for whatever reason, Alex did not press the matter, and before too long, he spotted the walls of the camp.
“They didn’t tear it down. Any idea why?”
I told him that I had not been able to determine a reason for it, and that I had wondered the same thing, offering my guess that Cogidubnus wanted to show it off for some purpose only he knew.
“Or,” Alex offered, “maybe he intends to use it for something.”
This was when I told him of what had happened in Petuar, of the attack by the Brigantes, and while I did not speak much of my role, Alex was not fooled.
“That’s why the people were treating you the way they were when we showed up,” he said. I did not agree, or disagree, simply offering a shrug, but I should have known better than to think he would be satisfied with this. “So that means,” his tone sounded accusatory, “you must have done something stupid.”
“Why do you think that?” I protested, but my heart was not much in it.
“Because I know you,” he shot back. “No doubt you were rushing about, getting stuck in wherever you saw a chance.”
This, of course, was exactly what I had done, but I still felt compelled to point out, “Only because they asked me to!”
Which was not true, naturally, but I did not feel the need until just this moment to let Alex know that.
“Well,” he sniffed, “either way, you clearly did something noteworthy.” Nothing was said for a span, then out of the corner of my eye, I saw Alex start to frown, and it is an expression that I know all too well, the sign that he is thinking through something, and I began counting silently; I made it to eight when he turned and asked me, “Did you save Ivomagus’ life or something like that? Is that why you said things have changed?”
There is never any point trying to deny Alex’s conclusion, and I did not try then.
“Yes, that’s what happened, and yes, that’s why things have changed.”
“Wait.” Alex actually drew his horse up, I assumed because we were within sight of the hall, and when I followed suit, both Gorteryn and Lugotorix looked concerned, but neither they nor the rest of my guards stopped immediately. When I looked at Alex, I saw with
a sinking sensation that he had put things together. “You not only help save this cachole of a town, but you saved the king’s brother’s life…and he’s still making you pay the ransom?”
“Yes.” I said this through gritted teeth because, while I had accepted it, it still enraged me.
“That cunnus…that mentula…that…son of a whore!” Alex said with such feeling that it not only made me feel better, it made me laugh.
“He’s all of those things,” I agreed. Then, kicking my horse, we resumed moving as I said, “But there’s just one more night with that bastard, then we’ll never have to see this fucking place again.”
That, at least, was my hope, but considering what I had planned, I would not know until it happened.
Alex watched with some amusement at what was my bathing ritual, particularly when the slave, an Iceni male slave of about fifty with no teeth, produced the homemade strigil and indifferently lathered my body with oil that was, frankly, close to rancid.
“I suppose you’re cleaner,” was all he said. “And as long as you think you are, that’s what matters.”
“Oh, go piss on your boots,” which brought a chuckle from both of us because it had been weeks since I had been able to use this epithet with anyone who understood it.
While the slave worked on me, Alex had been polishing the phalarae, arm ring, and the torq that I had never worn before and will never wear again, at least in uniform. I enjoyed pulling on a fresh tunic; while I appreciated Bronwen’s attention, it had been some time since the tunic I had been wearing had been washed. She also had been telling the truth about her skill with a needle, and her sewing job had come apart less than a week later, although I had no intention of bringing that up with her. I wondered if she would be present; I assumed she would be, and I had mixed feelings about that. Ivomagus had prevailed on Cogidubnus to do one thing that I appreciated a great deal, and that was to convince his brother to delay the actual wedding between Berdic and Bronwen, although when he informed me about it, he had stressed that it had nothing to do with my feelings and everything to do with tribal politics. Frankly, I did not care; that she was only betrothed and not married was what mattered to me. As the sun began to go down, and the air once more was filled with the smells of cooking meat, my stomach seemed to be having trouble making up its mind whether it wanted to throw up or if it was starving. Once the slave was gone, we did not talk much as Alex helped me don my hamata, then carefully fixed the phalarae, which bear the likeness of Divus Augustus, although I had heard the previous winter that new ones were being struck with the likeness of Tiberius. I certainly do not know the Imperator personally, nor have I ever laid eyes on him, but while what I do know about him comes secondhand, that source is my father, who worked for Tiberius, and when I heard this, I commented that it did not sound like something he would do.
Tiberius is many things; vain is not one of them, but I was assured by the person who told me, who I will not name, “It wasn’t his idea. That came from Sejanus.”
That day, it was nothing more than a passing thought, and I was more concerned with not smudging the phalarae as I attached them to my harness. Then I bent down so that Alex could fasten the torq around my neck, and it felt quite awkward at first since I was not accustomed to having such a heavy weight pressing on my chest. Finally, he handed me the vitus, and I felt a smile split my face as I took it, then, stepping back, took a couple of swipes with it so that I could hear the whishing sound it made.
“I,” I sighed, “really missed this.”
“No, you miss what you do with it,” Alex retorted, and I laughed because it was true.
The noise from beyond the partition had been steadily increasing, and it was almost dark, so I decided it was time to make an appearance, but this time, things would be different. When I emerged out into the hall, while not everyone immediately stopped talking, the sudden reduction of the noise was dramatic, and even those who were still conversing had turned to face in my direction. I was wearing my helmet, which I did deliberately because I knew the fact that the crest was only about a foot from the roof of the hall would be noticed, and I was carrying my vitus, but I saw that most of the attention was in the area of my waist. The setup was identical as the first time, with an open chair to Cogidubnus’ right, but while he stood up, it was Ivomagus who moved first, coming from the other side, his eyes on my gladius.
“Centurion Pullus…Gnaeus,” he gasped. “You cannot wear your sword to this feast! All weapons are forbidden!”
“I’m wearing my full uniform tonight, Ivomagus.” I did not say this in a menacing manner, trying to keep my tone matter-of-fact. “It’s my last night here, and for the first time in a long time, I feel like a Centurion of Rome. If,” I threw my first dice, “you want to disarm me, then have Berdic try it.”
He stiffened, but I was a bit disappointed to see that he did not appear all that surprised.
“Very well,” he said. “Please stay there for a moment.”
He did not wait for my answer, turning and going back to Cogidubnus, where he leaned down to whisper in the king’s ear, who listened while his eyes never left me. Then, his eyes dropped to my gladius, and I cannot say who was more surprised, me or Ivomagus, when, with a shrug, Cogidubnus waved me to my seat. I was not done, however, because when Ivomagus pointed to the table where my officers had been seated the first time in a clear signal to Alex, but I shook my head.
“No,” I said flatly, and pointed to a spot next to me. “He’s sitting here with me.”
To his credit, he did not try and argue, curtly calling to one of the serving slaves to bring a chair. Only then did I sit down next to Cogidubnus, who as he did the first time, offered me a cup, the same one he had offered at the first feast. I had the feeling he expected me to refuse, but I did not, taking it with a nod, then lifting it in the manner of a toast, took my first, and what would be my last real sip. It became obvious immediately that the other attendees, most of whom I recognized by this point, had been watching this, because there was an audible sigh of what must have been relief, and the noise quickly returned to its previous level. Then Berdic entered the hall, and at first I thought he had come alone because I did not see Bronwen, but just when I began to relax, he stepped to the side to stop and greet Matugenus, and I saw her standing there behind him, eyes down. She was wearing the green gown, except this time, her hair was bound back, although it was not piled up in what I had been told is the Parisii sign that she was married, and I assumed that this meant something and was not just her choice for fashion, since I had never seen it in this manner. Watching her stand there, obediently waiting as Berdic ignored her as he roared with laughter at something Matugenus had said, the pair of them making no attempt to hide they were looking in my direction in an obvious signal that it was about me, I almost came out of my chair.
“Gnaeus,” Alex said loudly enough so that only I could hear. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” I lied.
Then Ivomagus called me, and I turned towards him and was soon engaged in a conversation with him and Cogidubnus. Who, I will say, seemed to be going out of his way not to mention the gold sitting a bit more than a mile away from here, and as I hoped, my decorations drew his attention.
He pointed to one of the phalarae, and Ivomagus translated, “My brother wants to know if this is one of the gods Romans worship.”
This made me laugh, and I turned and relayed the question to Alex, who had the same reaction.
Turning back, I said, “You could say that. This is Caesar Augustus. We call him Divus Augustus now.”
Both their eyes went wide, reminding me that there is no part of the known world, even on this island, where the names Caesar and Augustus are not known.
“But he was a man,” Ivomagus said, and I nodded, although I replied, “Yes, he was a man, but once he died, he became a god.” I was not surprised that both Ivomagus, and once he explained it to his brother, Cogidubnus found this confusing, so I did try to ex
plain, “His father, Gaius Julius Caesar, is a god. So,” I shrugged, “that means when Augustus died, he became one like his father.”
As I expected, the mention of Divus Julius produced a reaction from both of them, their faces darkening as they exchanged a glance, but then Cogidubnus said something to his brother, who reacted with an exclamation of surprise, and whatever it was brought him to his feet.
“My brother just reminded me of something!” Ivomagus told me excitedly. “We have a surprise for you.” He immediately saw by my reaction that this was the wrong thing to say, and he flushed a deep color, “No, Gnaeus. It is nothing bad. In fact,” he assured me, “I think you will find it quite interesting!”
Then, before I could say anything one way or another, he hurried off, heading out of the hall.
“What’s happening?”
“I have no idea,” I told Alex. “But he swore he wasn’t going to hit me on the head.”
“And you believe him?” Alex snorted. “He clearly did something to it the first time, then.”
This exchange was cut short when the platter of sizzling meat arrived, and we were being served when Ivomagus returned, but he was by himself. When I asked him what was happening, he said that we would be learning shortly.
Berdic had made his way towards the front of the hall, except that this time, I learned the reason the table where my officers had been seated was empty was because it was meant for Berdic and Bronwen alone, which I was certain was a signal of honor. He did not shove her, exactly, but he pointed to the bench where she would be turned slightly away from me, while he straddled the bench so that he was looking directly at me, and he offered me a smile that made my right hand itch. Not yet, Gnaeus, not yet. This was what I told myself over, and over, and over, and I could feel both Cogidubnus and Ivomagus glancing over far more often than would be normal, while Alex did much the same, except that when I looked over at him, I saw that he was still mystified. He clearly understood something was happening, that there was an undercurrent, but he could not untangle it. Well, I thought, you’ll be learning soon enough.