by R. W. Peake
“The beast.”
This made me gasp, not because of the term, but who uttered it, and I looked over at Miriam, who had been the one who, like Alex, correctly identified why I had behaved in the manner I did. She returned my gaze levelly, not smiling, yet not seeming unhappy.
“Remember, not just the Pullus men have read the Prefect’s account,” she reminded me.
Which I had, in fact, completely forgotten, but feeling the eyes of everyone else on me, I simply nodded my affirmation as Alex continued, “Finally, Gnaeus fought back. He punched Berdic,” he pointed to his midriff, “right here, and even with all the shouting, I could hear the wind leaving his lungs. And then,” his expression changed, slightly but noticeably, as if, despite having reconciled himself with what had taken place, he was still having trouble understanding it, “he grabbed Berdic by his belt and throat,” he was mimicking the movement as he talked, “then picked him up over his head like this.” He extended his arms above his head, not completely straight but close, and this was a fragment that I recalled, not in terms of an image, but recalling that in that moment I realized if I had done so, I would have thrust Berdic up against the roof of the hall. “Then,” Alex paused for an instant, then made an extremely violent motion, twisting his body as he brought both arms downward, “he slammed Berdic headfirst into the floor.”
And, suddenly, I remembered. I recalled not only the sight of Berdic, hovering above my head, but the feeling of the moment, and how I was worried that my grip around his throat would slip because it was so slippery from the oil he had lathered all over himself, giving him the opportunity to use his hands to gouge my eyes or punch me because he did not have to worry about his windpipe being crushed. But, more than anything, it was the feeling of such power flowing through me, and the delight I took in the idea of crushing this man’s head by slamming him into the hardpacked dirt floor of the hall. I was…happy, I realized. In that moment, I had been almost as happy as I was when I lay with Bronwen for the first time, and it was the realization of this as Alex described what had happened that shook me, to my core.
“How large was Berdic?” Gaius Gallienus was the one who asked the question, and I was surprised at Alex’s answer, although I should not have been.
“He was about two inches shorter, but I’m certain he weighed as much as Gnaeus. And,” Alex added pointedly, “it wasn’t fat.”
“Gnaeus,” Miriam asked gently, “do you remember any of that?”
I was tempted to lie, but I found myself answering honestly, “Not until Alex just talked about it.” I said this not intending to embarrass or censure him in any way, but as soon as the words were out, I realized how they could be construed, so I turned to him to assure him, “But that’s all right, Alex. I needed to hear about it, so thank you.”
There was a long silence, then Birgit broke it.
“I agree, Alex. I do not want you going to Alexandria without Gnaeus. And,” she turned to look at me directly, “I would not trust anyone other than Gnaeus.”
“It’s not going to be just the two of us,” I began, but then Bronwen interrupted.
“No, it will not be because I am going as well.”
I watched as Birgit and Miriam exchanged a look that gave me some hope that I would have some allies in my attempt to keep Bronwen in Arelate, which was barely flickering at this point, but I was disappointed when they did not say anything.
Alex addressed Septimus. “Did you find anything out about Aviola since the last time I was here?”
“I did,” my uncle replied, getting up. “Let me go get my tablets.”
While he was gone, Miriam took the opportunity to talk to Bronwen.
“I know that we don’t know each other very well,” she began. “But I want to change your mind about going to Alexandria.” I tried to hide the look of relief that threatened to flash across my face, but thankfully, Bronwen was only looking at Miriam. “I know I don’t have to tell you that it will be very dangerous. But,” while her tone was gentle, the words were pointed, “have you considered that your presence there will be a distraction to Gnaeus? That he’ll be worried about you every moment you’re there, and that could be dangerous for the both of you?”
If Bronwen had thought about it, I did not know, but I certainly had, and I had been trying to think of a way to broach that subject with her in a way that would not hurt her feelings, or more likely, arouse her temper, and I decided at that moment to make an offering of thanks to the gods for my aunt.
“I…I had not thought about it like that,” Bronwen admitted, and she looked up at me guiltily. And while it was not her intent, or I do not believe so, she effectively knocked my legs out from under me when she continued, “but I just do not want to be so far away from Gnaeus now that we have just found each other.”
Despite myself, I could not stop from risking a glance at Gisela, who looked absolutely miserable, but it was to Miriam that I said flatly, “She’s going with me, Miriam.”
She would not have been a Pullus if she accepted this, but while she did open her mouth to respond, and I could tell by her expression she was far from ready to submit, Septimus returned with the tablets.
“There is some good news,” he announced as he returned to his seat and opened the first of two tablets. “Lucius Aviola the Younger loathes his father, and he was only too happy to provide as much information as he could think of.”
Judging by the lack of reaction from Miriam and Birgit, Septimus had already informed them, but as usual, it was Alex who caught the presence of a turd in the honey.
“That’s good to hear,” he began. “But generally, when someone phrases it the way you did about good news, it implies that there’s bad news right behind it.”
This elicited a rueful laugh from my uncle.
“That’s why I could never beat you at tables, Alex. You were always one move ahead of me. But,” he acknowledged, “you’re correct. The problem is that, while Aviola is based in Alexandria and has his home there, along with other properties, he moves around quite a bit for his…business.”
This was certainly bad news, but in my mind, it did not change anything; Alexandria was the only solid information we had as to his whereabouts, and if it was his base for what appeared to be doing nothing but circulating Our Sea to find gullible men with money like Gaius Pullus, we had no choice but to go there. It certainly did not dissuade me, although the idea that it might not be a matter of a straightforward trip but in essence following a trail of breadcrumbs trying to catch up to the cunnus, was daunting. Septimus was not through, thank the gods.
“However,” he continued, “Aviola the Younger said that it was his father’s habit to spend November and December in Alexandria, at least the last time they had any communication.”
“When was that?” I asked, not really expecting Septimus to know, but he had been very thorough.
“I asked him that,” he answered. “And the last time he had any contact was right after he came to Arelate, but just to let the Elder know he’d arrived safely. He got a reply, from Alexandria, but that was the last time.”
“And that was three years ago?” I tried to remember.
“Four now,” Septimus replied.
Suddenly, Bronwen spoke up, sounding somewhat timid, but when I thought about it later, I realized why she asked, “How do you know that you can trust this information from him? This is his father, yes?” When Septimus nodded, she pointed out, “While this Aviola may not care for what his father does to other people, that does not mean that he would be willing to betray him. Especially,” she pointed to me, “if he knew someone like this was looking for him. Is this not true?”
“It is true,” Septimus agreed, and there was admiration in his voice, but he had thought of this as well because he continued, “which is why I essentially asked him that, in so many words.” Bronwen’s cheeks turned red, and I did not even glance over at Gisela this time, certain she would look happier than she had since she met my
woman. Septimus either saw Bronwen’s crestfallen look and tried to soothe her, or he was being sincere as he added, “But that was a very good question, Bronwen. And that’s why I tried to get a sense of how truthful he was being with me.”
“And?” Alex spoke up. “What’s your assessment?”
For the first time, Septimus looked hesitant, easy to understand given the circumstances. “I think he’s being honest. But,” he shrugged, “he’s also a lawyer, so only he and the gods know with any certainty.” A glum silence settled on us, but then Septimus broke it by saying thoughtfully, “If I had to gamble on whether he was being honest with me, I would wager that he was, just by how agitated he got as we talked.” He opened the second tablet, moving his finger down it. “Ah, here it is. I wrote this down. He said that his father has been doing this his entire life, but he’s very good at hiding it from others. The other Roman merchants in Alexandria in the quarter he lives in interact with him a great deal, because he does just enough legitimate business to quell suspicions. And,” he looked directly at me first, then Alex, “he’s the reason Aviola came to Arelate, because the son didn’t learn the truth about his father until he was almost thirty years old.”
“He could just be trying to keep himself out of the cac,” Alex mused. “Especially once everything that happened here happened.” He leaned forward so that he could look directly at me down the table, “We can’t dismiss the possibility that, after hearing about what you did at Bacchus’ Delight, he doesn’t want any part of the quarrel we have with his father.”
“What did you do at this place?” Bronwen asked, but before I could say anything, Septimus answered her cheerfully, “Essentially the same thing he did to this Berdic, Bronwen. But with a gladius.” This seemed to amuse my family a great deal, because they all burst out laughing, and I felt my face burning. I never asked, but I believe Septimus took pity on me by calling out over the mirth, “Don’t worry, Bronwen. Gnaeus doesn’t just walk around killing people…except for those German barbarians, but that’s his job.”
I have no doubt he meant well, but I had already witnessed how sensitive Bronwen was, and still is, when it comes to how we Romans view everyone who still identifies themselves by tribes, and when I gave her a sidelong glance, I saw those nostrils flaring.
To forestall more unpleasantness, I spoke up, asking Septimus, “Did Aviola give you the location of his father’s home?”
Septimus’ eyes had been on Bronwen, and I could tell he understood that he had said something to offend her, even if he did not know exactly why, so he looked relieved as he glanced down at the tablet to answer, “Yes, he did. But not just the villa. He gave me the locations of four other houses, each of them in a different quarter of the city, which Aviola said his father bought as possible hideouts in the event things went badly for him. In fact,” he looked up with a grim smile, “that’s how Aviola the Younger first discovered the truth about his father. He found the deeds to all four houses when he was searching for some other document.”
A silence descended around the table, each of us momentarily absorbed in our own thoughts, but I sensed that everyone there had accepted the inevitability that we would be sailing for Alexandria.
This was confirmed when Miriam asked me, “How are you going to pay for all of this? I’m assuming that you don’t have access to your Legion funds.”
Rather than answer her directly, it was my turn to lean forward, and with a grin, say to Alex, “Would you care to explain our financial situation? Since you’re responsible for it.”
As I hoped, I saw this both pleased and embarrassed him, but Alex explained what he had done, and this time when laughter erupted, it was for the same reason, our delight in a member of the Pullus family having duped the Parisii, even if it was to a small degree. I experienced a pang of worry that Bronwen would not appreciate this slur against her people, but when I glanced down at her, she was as merry as the others.
It was growing late, so it was Birgit who rose from the table first, telling us that she would prepare a meal, which was met by protests from the others, more out of politeness than any other reason if I am any judge.
“I’m going to make sure that Birgit knows that I’m the only one not complaining,” I said, patting my stomach as I grinned. “She knows how to feed a man.”
As the others laughed, Bronwen asked, “Do all of you eat as much as Gnaeus?”
This only increased the mirth, and it was Alex who assured her, “By the gods, no, Bronwen. I’ve never seen a human being eat as much as Gnaeus, and certainly none of us do.”
Bronwen chose this moment to contribute to the highly exaggerated tales of my appetite, telling the others how I had an audience for the first few meals during my time with the Parisii, and I was pleased to see the others’ reaction to her; even Gisela was smiling. Regardless of the lightness of the moment, this was another time where I realized how much it would mean to them, and to me, to salvage something of our fortune. Following hard behind that thought was the one that was always lurking in the back of my mind, that I was gambling everything that Germanicus would be a forgiving Legate and Propraetor. This was the one thing that I tried to keep from escaping the tightly locked cupboard I had put this question into in my mind, and I was determined that I would not let it out with my family, or in front of Bronwen.
The meal was, as I had remembered, every bit as good, and plentiful, as it had been the year before. As we ate, we continued to discuss matters, and it was decided that we would be down at the docks at dawn to hire a ship to take us to Narbo Martius, a trip that several ships a week make between the two cities. It did not even occur to either Alex or me to inquire here in Arelate about any ship that was going to be making a crossing of Our Sea at this time of year. As much time as we had spent aboard and around ships the previous months, neither of us were even close to being experts in nautical matters. Fortunately, Septimus informed us that he would be going with us.
“I have business down there anyway,” he told us. “We kept the wine shipping company that your father bought.” He was speaking to Alex when he said this, but it struck me as odd, and even worse, it made me wonder whether or not the villa had to be put up as security.
I kept my tone from sounding like an accusation, or that was my intention when I asked him, “Why didn’t you sell it, Septimus?”
He was not fooled, I could tell that by the manner in which he looked me directly in the eye as he answered flatly, “Because there were no takers, Gnaeus. It,” his expression altered, “was run by Gaius, and let’s just say that no reputable merchants wanted the kind of customers Gaius dealt with.”
Even in the afterlife, that cunnus is fucking this family; it was a thought I managed to keep within my skull, but it was a reminder of just how much damage Gaius Pullus had done to his family. I was given the same room I used when I had been there the year before, the only difference being that it was now a room for two. Aside from the obvious, the one reason I remember that night is because it was the first time we had more than a modicum of privacy.
It was later, as we lay together on a bed that was not made for someone my size, although I did not mind having Bronwen nestled against me, that seemingly out of nowhere, she asked me, “How many men have you killed, Gnaeus?”
I was too startled to be upset, at least at first, and I answered honestly, “I’ve never really thought about it.” Of course, I did then, which was when I felt a flicker of something that, while it was not anger, was certainly irritation. Only later did I understand that it was anxiety because the answer I gave her might have changed matters between us, which was why I asked, “Why do you want to know this, Bronwen?”
Her head was lying on my chest, but her face was turned away from me, so I could only go by her words, which were, “I was just curious.”
Suddenly, I had a flash of what I suppose might be called insight, which prompted me to ask her gently, “Are you curious about the number? Or who they were?”
&n
bsp; I got the answer by the way I felt her body stiffen, but when she turned her head so that we could look each other in the eyes, she did not hesitate in her answer.
“Both,” she began, then added, “but mostly who they were. Were they all barbarians?”
Ah, that’s what this is about, I thought, but rather than give her a direct answer, I countered with a question, “When I was Cogidubnus’ hostage, whenever my name was mentioned, I heard a word used. What does it mean?”
The truth was that I already knew, because I had asked Ivomagus at some time in the last days of my captivity.
Her cheeks had already been flushed from what we had just done and they instantly darkened, but rather than sounding defensive, she sounded rueful as she said, “It means…savage, I suppose is the best word for it in Latin.” She put her hand under her chin and smiled up at me, “I take back my question about who they were. But how many?”
“Why does it matter?” I protested, but before she answered, she turned away from me and returned to her former position, yet I could hear the smile in her voice as she answered, “Because I promised myself I would only give myself to a great warrior who has slain many of his enemies.”
I knew that it was impossible, yet the first thought that went through my mind was, has she read my father’s account? Because this conversation was eerily similar to one that my mother Giulia had with my father during their brief time together. This was followed by my suddenly wondering if I had been conceived shortly before that conversation, and I suppose it was inevitable that this led my mind immediately to the possibility that had just happened between Bronwen and me. It was a terrifying and wonderful thought, all at the same time, so it took me a while to fall asleep.