by R. W. Peake
“There’s no way that you could get me up that high,” Septimus declared, and he was joined by Gaius, and to my surprise, Alex.
Only Bronwen agreed with me, but I had already learned she had an adventurous spirit, and she summed up my feelings when she said, “To be able to be as high as a bird flies? Imagine how far you could see!”
“I’m imagining how far you could fall,” Septimus replied sourly, and we had to laugh at this, then we fell silent, content to watch as the huge structure slid past.
This had been a journey full of surprises, and there had been one final one just before we pushed away from the dock, when Marcellus approached me.
“Pullus, if you don’t mind, I think I’m going to stay here in Alexandria.” My mouth fell open, though I did not know why I found it so surprising, and I suppose my face prompted him to explain, “I don’t have any family back in Arelate, so there’s nothing really tying me down there. Besides,” he gave me a grin, “like you said, I’ve heard so much about the whores of Alexandria that it would be a crime not to find out, eh?”
Naturally, I agreed, but he was not allowed to leave until he had his purse refilled until it was bulging, then he was bade goodbye by all of us. He blushed more than Gaius when Bronwen kissed him, and to my surprise, I felt a lump in my throat as we clasped arms while I thanked him for his service. He strode down the ramp, carrying his old Legion’s pack that he had brought aboard, and as far as I know, he is still there in Alexandria, drinking and whoring, and I pray to the gods, he is happy and content.
Chapter Thirteen
As eventful as our time in Alexandria was, there is precious little to say about the return voyage. Demeter had warned us that the return passage would be slower because of the prevailing winds once north of Crete, and while there was rain and a couple of days of choppy seas and brisk winds, there was nothing that approached any of the storms we had endured. With every stroke of the oars, we were drawing closer to events that, frankly, filled me with as much dread as pleasure. Certainly I was happy that, once we returned to Arelate, Demeter having agreed to take us all the way upriver to the city, the threat to my family and the villa would be ended, but while that was the end of the journey for Septimus and Gaius, it was not for me or Alex. However, what tormented me even more was wondering whether or not this would be the end of Bronwen’s and my time together, yet every time I resolved to bring up the subject, I could not bring myself to do it. This did not help matters between Bronwen and me, as she became more withdrawn, and I only made matters worse because, the few times I did try and engage her in some sort of conversation, she would use the minimum amount of words that she could, which in turn triggered my frustration and sent me storming out of the cabin, or if we were on deck, back down belowdecks. As bad as it was for the two of us, Alex, Septimus, and Gaius unfortunately had to bear the tension and uncomfortable silences. And, as we had all learned on the way to Alexandria, there are not many places to go on a ship, even one of a decent size like the Persephone. The days passed, and it was as we were passing by Crete, six days after our departure, when, as I was staring moodily at the distant mountains off our right side, I heard someone behind me ascending the ladder to the upper deck at the bow. It was Gaius, who approached me with a set to his jaw that was familiar, but it was his clenched fists that sent the most potent signal, and I watched as he walked towards me with an equal mixture of amusement and curiosity. He certainly doesn’t want to fight me, I thought; then I saw the look in his eyes, making me wonder, Or does he?
Stopping just out of my reach, he blurted out, “Bronwen deserves better from you!”
While I had expected her to be the subject, I was not as sure about his meaning.
“How so?” I asked, truly curious. “How am I treating her unkindly?”
“Because she knows that you’re going to leave her in Arelate,” he shot back, “but you don’t have the courage to tell her that!”
I felt a stirring of anger at his accusation, which I suppose was why I countered, “Why do you care? Don’t tell me that if she stayed in Arelate, you wouldn’t be happy.”
I doubt his face would have colored that deeply or that quickly if I had slapped him across both cheeks, but in that moment, Gaius Gallienus Pullus stood up to me, showing both his courage, and that he truly loved Bronwen.
“That’s true,” he acknowledged. “But,” I saw the bulge of his throat bob up and down as he had to swallow his pride, “that’s not what she wants, Gnaeus. And I just want her to be happy. Don’t you?”
He asked this challengingly, but now it was my turn to be wounded.
“Of course I do,” I assured him. We stood there, staring at each other, but I am the one who crumbled first, and I had to turn away from my young cousin as I moaned, “I’m such a fucking idiot.”
“Yes,” he agreed quickly, “you are.”
I whirled around, but I was already laughing, both at the way in which he had said it and the relief on his face at my reaction. Without thinking, I reached out and grabbed him, not to hit him but to hug him.
“That took courage, Gaius,” I told him seriously. “And,” I added sincerely, “thank you for being willing to tell me the truth.”
He pretended not to be, but I could see how deeply pleased he was, and I gave him a playful shove as I walked past him to the ladder.
When he asked where I was going, I replied with a grimace that was only partially feigned, “I’m going to go face my flogging.”
I met both Alex and Septimus as I made my way to the rear ladder; the manner in which they avoided my gaze told me that they not only had known what Gaius had come to do, but that it was time to vacate the cabin. Alex did glance at me, and all I could offer was a wry smile that he interpreted correctly. I had to pause for a moment to collect my thoughts before I knocked on the door, for some reason choosing to wait for Bronwen to bid whoever was knocking to enter, whereas I usually knocked then opened the door, the habit of a Centurion entering a section hut. She did not seem surprised when she saw that it was me, and I felt her eyes on me as I sat down in the chair on the opposite side of the small table.
After taking a breath, I began, “I’ve been a fool, Bronwen, and I want to apologize for that.” Honestly, I was prepared for her to instantly accept it, yet she chose instead to remain silent, her eyes locked on mine with an expression I could not read, and I felt the trickle of sweat on my temple as I tried to think of what to say next. In the end, I decided on brutal honesty. “It’s just that I didn’t think you would be willing to travel all the way to Ubiorum with me, that you’d be ready to return home, to your father and to your people.”
This caused a change, her eyes softening slightly.
“You did not think I wanted to go to Ubiorum with you?” she asked, frowning at me. “Truly? That is why you have been so distant with me?”
“Yes.” I almost shouted this. “That’s the only reason, meum mel. I thought that as much as you’ve talked about your father, that you were missing him so much, you wanted to go back to Britannia.”
She did not smile, exactly, but the corners of her mouth lifted slightly as she chided me, “Of course I miss my father, Gnaeus. But,” she shook her head, “I do not miss him more than I love you. I,” she reached out and placed her hands over mine, “will go wherever you want me to go, Gnaeus Pullus.”
It is impossible for me to describe the rush of emotion that assaulted me; relief, certainly, but that feeling lasted for perhaps the span of a heartbeat before it was washed away by the dread of telling her the complete and unvarnished truth about the possible outcomes awaiting me. Still, the thought that I would not face the consequences of my absence alone helped.
“Then I need to tell you everything that I might be facing when we get to Ubiorum,” I said.
By the time I was through, I was happy that she had not changed her mind, but she was clearly troubled, and we sat there in silence for a long stretch of time.
Finally, she sai
d, “Whatever happens, we will face it together. Now,” she stood up, and smiled for the first time as she held out her hand, “I think perhaps you should lock the door to our cabin.”
As the Persephone slid up the Rhodanus, it was quite a different sight because now there was snow on the ground, although there were no chunks of ice like there are on the Rhenus in December. We reached Arelate two days after the Kalends, where we parted ways with Demeter, and all of us were heartfelt in our thanks.
“You know,” I joked with him as we stood on the docks saying goodbye, “for a pirate, you’re not too bad.”
“And for a Roman, neither are you.” He grinned as he clasped my arm. He turned serious, and he said, “You were under no obligation to give me and my crew so much, Centurion.”
“You kept your word,” I replied, as if that was explanation enough, although there was more to it than that.
“Know this, Gnaeus Pullus,” Demeter looked me directly in the eye, “you have a friend in Demeter of Rhodes and the crew of the Persephone. If there is ever anything I can do for you or your family, leave word here at The Siren’s Song,” naming the taverna in Arelate favored by mariners and rivermen alike. “I am friends with the owner, and he keeps messages for me. If you need me, I will come as quickly as I can.”
How, I wondered, do I respond to that? I am still wondering, because all I could manage was a nod and a squeeze of the Rhodian’s shoulder, whereupon he turned and left us standing there without another word. Gaius had been sent to procure a wagon and a cart, the latter for our cargo of spices and silk, and the former for the money, and I briefly considered calling to Demeter for some of his men to stay with us since we were drawing attention by some of the types that like to hang about ports looking for easy prey, but when I mentioned it to Septimus, he just laughed.
“Gnaeus, we’re back in Arelate. Trust me, nobody will touch us.”
He was correct, of course, and soon enough, Gaius returned leading the mule-drawn cart, followed by a wagon pulled by an oxen and driven by the owner he had hired it from, and we loaded the chests into the wagon and our goods and baggage into the cart. We had already decided to make a stop before the villa, one that we were all eager to be present for, and we moved quickly through the city, heading for the villa off of the forum where a man named Tiberius Salinator lived. We briefly discussed sending Gaius ahead, but Septimus argued against it, offering what I considered to be an impeccable argument.
“I wouldn’t trust Salinator with an amphora of my piss,” he said flatly. “And giving him any kind of advance warning is an invitation for trouble.”
Again, I could not fault this logic, but I was curious. “How come you did business with someone like that?”
We were walking side by side ahead of the wagon, and he glanced over at me, his expression indicating he was considering something, then after a couple of heartbeats, he answered, “Because he was the only one who would loan me that much money.” This got my attention, and when I looked over at him in surprise, he explained, “The Pullus name…isn’t what it used to be here in Arelate, Gnaeus, because,” now he was the one to turn his gaze away, which I understood when he said, “Gaius did a lot of damage to our family’s reputation in a short period of time. And,” he sighed, “he made a lot of enemies, some of them powerful men who were only too happy to see us in desperate need.”
It was a good thing that Gaius Pullus’ ashes are already interred in the family tomb outside the walls, because if he had been there, I would have run him through and twisted my blade. Not for the first, or the last time, I was reminded of what a trial all of this had to be for my lone surviving uncle, but as I had learned the year before, and had been more than confirmed on this voyage, Septimus Pullus is every bit the man my father was in the ways that matter, and I have no doubt that had he chosen to, he would have excelled under the standard. There was no more time for talk, Septimus pointing to Salinator’s villa, of which only the red tile roof was visible because of the wall, and I was struck by the similarity to our family home. It was Septimus who banged on the postern door, having to do so twice before the peephole opened up, but what mattered was that, immediately following this, there was a rattling sound and the gate was opened, allowing us entry into the villa compound.
“At least there’s no gladiators this time,” Alex remarked to Septimus, the first I heard anything of this.
“That’s why we’re here,” Septimus said with a grin. “I didn’t want to give this cunnus a chance.”
The slave who had opened the gate had hurried off into the villa, prompting a delay that was beginning to make me nervous. I was back in my soldier’s tunic, with my baltea and vitus, ignoring Septimus’ suggestion that I not strap my gladius to my harness, and I was beginning to think I might end up using it when, from within the open doorway, we heard voices. Then, a man of medium height and thinning hair appeared, and by the manner in which he was fussing with his toga, I was certain this was the cause of the delay, that he had decided to dress formally for some reason. He stopped short when he saw us standing there, a look of dismay flashing across his features that he tried to hide, without success.
“Salve, Salinator.” Septimus’ voice was genial. “As you can see, we’ve returned.”
“Salve, Pullus,” Salinator replied unenthusiastically. His eyes went to the wagon, which had an open top, and he looked decidedly unhappy as he asked, “Is this what I think it is?”
“It is!” Septimus answered cheerfully. Then I was given a hint how things stood when he added, “And with just a bit more than a week to spare!”
“What?” I was confused, but when I turned to Alex, he whispered, “We’ll explain later.”
For the first time, Salinator moved, and I have never seen anyone walking towards a fortune with less enthusiasm than he did. Despite the fact that I had never laid eyes on this man, I was certain that he was thinking furiously, trying to come up with a reason to refuse repayment.
“I’m afraid that the slave who handles counting coins isn’t here,” he spoke up when he was peering down over the side into the wagon and the iron chests. When he looked up at us, his attempt to appear sincere almost made me burst out laughing as he said with an earnestness that was just as false, “But I expect him back before dark. Since you’ve obviously just returned from your journey, why don’t you and your party go home, get refreshed, and then come back?” Apparently, he realized how this sounded, because he added, “Taking the money with you, of course. I wasn’t suggesting that you leave it here.”
“Of course you weren’t,” Septimus replied dryly, but it was me he addressed next. “Gnaeus, what do you think? Should we come back later?”
“No.” Even if he had not wanted me to say this, I would have, and I walked over to the moneylender so I could look down on him as I added, “I wouldn’t trust this cunnus with a brass obol.” As I expected, he did not like this at all, but he was not going to do anything but glare at me, and we both knew it. “Besides,” I taunted, “are you telling me that you don’t know how to add?”
“I know how,” he snapped, his face flushing. Apparently, he realized he had no choice, because he sighed, then turned to the slave, ordering him to bring the necessary items.
Since we had left Gaius and Bronwen out in the street with the cart, I pulled Alex aside to tell him, “Go ahead and go with them to the villa, Alex. Septimus and I will stay here and make sure this cunnus doesn’t try anything.”
“Just the two of you?” he asked, then quickly corrected himself as I glared at him, saying hastily, “I’m sure the two of you will be enough to handle anything.”
He left without another word, leaving Septimus and me to watch as Salinator, with a slowness that I initially thought somewhat humorous, opened the lid of the first chest that Septimus had unlocked.
As we watched, I whispered to Septimus, “What did you mean about having a week to spare?”
“It wasn’t a week,” he whispered back. “It was m
ore than a week.”
“Well, it obviously wasn’t two weeks, or you would have said that.” I tried to convey my irritation while keeping my voice low. “And don’t try being clever. What did you mean?”
For a long moment, Septimus would not answer, but just when I thought he had no intention of responding, he replied, “The terms that I agreed to said that if I didn’t repay the loan with the agreed interest in less than three months, I forfeited the villa, plus another fifty thousand sesterces.”
I could not restrain myself from gasping loudly enough that it drew Salinator’s attention, who looked up sharply from his counting, eyeing us suspiciously.
“But you didn’t have any more money! He could have taken you to court!” It took a massive effort to keep my voice down, but Septimus only offered a simple agreement, “No, we didn’t. But,” he looked over at me, his expression sober, “if you think that we wouldn’t have sacrificed everything for your freedom, you don’t know us at all.”
Not knowing what to say, I only turned back to watching Salinator, who was so obvious in his slowness that it alerted both of us.
“He’s doing this for a reason,” Septimus muttered. Then he looked around the compound. “Where’s that slave?” Before I could say anything, my uncle called out to Salinator, “Can we trouble you for some refreshment, Salinator?” He smiled as he indicated the two of us. “As you said yourself, we’ve just completed a long journey and we’re about to make you some money, so I think some wine is in order, don’t you?”
I cannot say that Salinator panicked, but he came close, his eyes darting about, and I did not wait for anything to come out of his mouth, striding over to him as I drew my gladius.
“If you think that you’re going to surprise us by having some collegia rabble suddenly show up, you need to know this,” I snarled as I placed the tip of my blade at his throat. “You won’t live long enough to see what I can do to a bunch of fucking old gladiators and bully boys.”