The Broken Lance

by Jess Steven Hughes

  an imprint of Sunbury Press, Inc.

  Mechanicsburg, PA USA

  NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017, 2018 by Jess Steven Hughes.

  Cover Copyright © 2017, 2018 by Sunbury Press, Inc.

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  ISBN: 978-1-62006-719-2 (Trade Paperback)

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2017941771

  FIRST MILFORD HOUSE PRESS EDITION: May 2018

  Product of the United States of America

  0 1 1 2 3 5 8 13 21 34 55

  Set in Bookman Old Style

  Designed by Crystal Devine

  Cover by Lawrence Knorr

  Cover art by Tal Dibner (www.dibnergallery.com)

  Edited by Janice Rhayem

  Continue the Enlightenment!

  Dramatis Personae

  (In Order of Appearance)

  IN BRITANNIA

  THE ROMANS

  Marcellus Tiberius Reburrus – Cavalry Squadron Leader Sextus Rufius – Cavalry Commander Crispus – Cavalry Trooper

  Obulco – Cavalry Trooper

  Kimon – Cavalry Trooper

  Albinus – Cavalry Trooper

  * Aulus Plautius – General

  Anicius Pedius Gallus, the Younger – Tribune Corribilo – Cavalry Squadron Leader Edecon – Cavalry Squadron Leader Timoleon – Rufius’s Greek Slave Andubal – Cavalry Trooper

  * Titus Flavius Vespasianus (Vespasian) – General * Titus Flavius Sabinus – General - Vespasian’s Older Brother

  Mardonius – Cavalry Squadron Leader Avaro – Cavalry Trooper

  Indibil – Cavalry Trooper

  Severus – Cavalry Trooper

  THE BRITONS, ETC.

  Llugar ap Nudd – Druid Priest Cadwal – Scout/Warrior

  Rix – Gallic Trader/Pimp

  Kyar – German Slave Woman

  Sigrid – German Slave Woman

  Chulain – British Youth

  Eleyne – British Princess

  Karmune – Eleyne’s handmaiden Caratacus – British King

  Mugain – Druid Priestess/Witch Budar – Spaniard - Retired Centurion

  IN ROME

  Marcellus Tiberius Reburrus – Centurion Eleyne – British Princess

  Karmune – Eleyne’s Handmaiden Crispus – Junior Cavalry Officer * Titus Flavius Sabinus – General/Senator * Lucius Vitellius – Senator * Narcissus – Greek Freedman/Imperial Secretary * Claudius (Tiberius Claudius Nero Germanicus) – Emperor * Pallas – Greek Freedman/Imperial Secretary Anicius Cestius Gallus, the Elder – Senator Publius Lucullus – Bandit

  Priscilla – Jewish Woman

  Alexias – Greek Slave/Steward Aurelia Severa – Wife of Sabinus Candra – Indian Slave

  * Decrius Calpurnianus – Prefect of the Watch Budar – Spaniard - Retired Centurion Scrofa – King of the Beggars Mico – Beggar

  Casperius Niger – Optio of the Watch Faenus Rufus – Centurion of the Watch Nonius, Decimus, Fabius and Titius – Petty Criminals Abroghast – Master Torturer

  * Titus Statilius Taurus – Consul of Rome Ulpius – Advocate/Lawyer

  ROMAN EMPERORS – DATE OF REIGN

  Tiberius Claudius Nero Germanicus – 41 - 54 AD

  (Claudius)

  Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus (Nero) – 54 - 68 AD

  Servius Sulpicius Galba (Galba) – 68 - 69 AD

  Marcus Salvius Otho (Otho) – 69 AD

  Aulus Vitellius – 69 AD

  Titus Flavius Vespasianus (Vespasian) – 69 - 79 AD

  Titus Flavius Vespasianus (Titus) – 79 - 81 AD

  Titus Flavius Domitianus (Domitian) – 81 - 96 AD

  * Historical Character

  Cities and Geographical Locations

  ANCIENT NAME – MODERN NAME

  Britannia – Britain

  Hispania – Spain

  Gaul – France

  Itius Portus – Calais, France

  British Ocean – English Channel

  Germania – Germany

  Noviomagnus – Chichester, England

  Alexandria – Alexandria, Egypt

  Ostia – Rome’s Seaport

  River Rhenus – Rhine River

  Moguntiacum – Mainz, Germany

  Camulodunum – Colchester, England

  Baetica Province – Southern Coast of Spain

  Chapter 17 - Mid-August, 44 AD

  The following day the army halted to regroup and wait for supplies near the meandering River Axe. A reinforced marching camp was established on a narrow plain rising into black, cavernous mountains called the Mendips.

  One afternoon, a couple of days later after returning from patrol, I found my father’s youngest brother, Budar, with his four German retainers, casually conversing with the slave grooms outside the corral. I halted my squad, turned and dismissed them, including Crispus.

  I dropped off Argento, nodded to a slave to take his reins, and approached the old veteran. “Uncle!” I exclaimed with the enthusiasm of a boy. “What in the name of Melkart are you doing here?”

  We embraced and clapped each other’s shoulders.

  “Ha! What do you think?” Budar roared. His gray-bearded face flashed a wrinkled smile. “Do I need an invitation to visit my favorite nephew?” He removed his white Turdetanian tribal hooded cap and wiped the perspiration from his scarred forehead. Solidly built, the crusty, retired centurion in his midfifties was as trim as the day he was discharged from the army four years earlier. The dusty white and scarlet-edged tunic, blue calf-length breeches, and muddy boots, made of tightly woven esparto grass, underscored his muscular build. An Iberian spatha, encased in a gilded sheath, hung from the leather baldric circling his right shoulder.

  “When did you arrive?” I inquired.

  He tugged at his beard and crinkled a matted eyebrow. “This morning with the supply convoy. We landed at Noviomagnus last week and hitched a ride.”

  I motioned with my head. “Once I’ve finished stabling Argento, let’s talk in the wine shop, not here.”

  I warily eyed his shaggy-haired bodyguards, dressed in bear skins and wearing longswords. “Must they follow us?” I asked. “You’re safe here.”

  “I’ll send them to our quarters. I found a place at Mattan, the Sidonian’s trading camp. He’s not a bad character, for a thief.”

  Budar dismissed his bearded Germans from the Hermunduri Tribe in their own guttural tongue. Scowling, they viewed me suspiciously, although knowing our relationship, but seemed reluctant to leave. He gave them a sharper command, which sounded like a curse, and they finally departed. Shuffling away, they continued to glance over their shoulders.

  “The trouble with Hermu
ndurians,” Budar said, “is once you’ve bought their loyalty, they’re like puppies. They follow me everywhere, and are wary of anyone who gets close.” He laughed, sounding like a horse. “Why, once they even tried cutting out the tongue of a trader who cheated me. He deserved it, but since I’m responsible for their conduct, I had to stop them.”

  After putting Argento away, we hiked to the makeshift wine shop of Mattan, the Sidonian. His tavern, a large, grubby goatskin tent, was situated in the Forum, an open area along the Via Principia, near the Praetorium, the only place in camp where traders were allowed to conduct business. Because of potential security problems, the wagons remained outside the camp. The day before, word came from another trader that Rix, with his motley band of followers and women, was expected any day. However, he would have to conduct his trade beyond the stockade walls. Vespasian’s order to crucify the Gaul remained in full force should he set foot in camp. But there was enough business for both Rix and Mattan. I desperately missed Kyar and eagerly anticipated her arrival. I had not received word since we left Iping in the spring. Had Rix kept his promise about treating her well?

  Two sides of the crowded shop were open to let in sunlight. We found an empty table near the back in the shadows. After gulping our first round of wine, Budar spat. “Gods, this tastes like horse piss!”

  “Remember, a soldier can adapt to anything,” I mocked.

  “Aye, but I forgot how bad this swill tasted, worse than I remembered!” Although Budar cursed the wine, his expression seemed content. Veterans, especially centurions like Budar, were welcomed at a Roman camp. They could be temporarily pressed into service if the base faced imminent danger from attack. His dark eyes searched about. Seeing no one paying any attention to us, he reached beneath his dusty tunic. He pulled out a brown, leather pouch and placed the heavy bag of clinking coins firmly in my hand.

  “Here’s the money you wanted from your mother,” he said in a low voice.

  I stuffed the sack under my tunic, tying it to an inside waist band.

  “She told me about your woman,” Budar said. “I volunteered to bring the money because I’m the only one she trusts. Your wench better be worth the price. You paid too much.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “You didn’t come all the way just as a favor.”

  Budar leaned slightly forward in a voice little more than a whisper, “To tell the truth, I’m supposed to see your woman and give final approval, for your mother’s sake. She almost didn’t give me the money.”

  “Why?”

  The crusty veteran shook his head. “Because she feared the woman would get in the way of your promise.”

  “Then you know?”

  “I’m the only one she’s told.”

  For a few seconds I straightened my back, annoyed by my mother’s doubts. “How would Kyar interfere with my becoming a knight?”

  Budar’s cold, ebony eyes stared at me. “She’s got the half-baked idea that you’d eventually free and marry the wench. I convinced her you had enough horse sense not to do anything so stupid. Right?”

  “Of course not, she’s strictly a concubine.” Regardless, one day I will set her free.

  “Good man, I knew you wouldn’t,” he said, apparently relieved by my answer. “Don’t tell her about our conversation, you’re not supposed to know.”

  “I won’t say a word.”

  “Your mother is a beautiful woman for her age, but vain. When she read that a German reminded you of her, she was flattered and furious at the same time—women, you can never figure them out.”

  My mother could still turn the heads of men at age forty-one. “She won’t be disappointed.”

  The old veteran sat straighter and shrugged. “No matter, the journey was an excellent excuse to see you. After all, if my favorite nephew needs help, then, by Melkart, he’ll get it.

  “Your mother and I are very proud of you,” Budar continued. “Not many troopers are promoted to sergeant in less than four years. And now this,” he motioned to my silver armlets. He took a deep breath. “I only regret your father isn’t alive to see what you’ve accomplished. He would be pleased.”

  Uncle Budar patted me on the shoulder. “Tell me about your wench. She must be a real beauty.”

  I grinned. “She is, Uncle.”

  Crispus showed up and sat at the next table with some other troopers. I gave him a nod.

  “Who did you buy her from?” Budar asked, lowering his voice. “I know most of the dealers.”

  “Rix the Gaul.”

  His eyes narrowed, and a sneer crossed the corner of his chapped lips. “The one who traded along the Rhenus?”

  I motioned with a hand. “The same.”

  “You’ll never see her again,” he said flatly.

  Instantly, my muscles tightened. Heat rushed to my face. “What do you mean? I know he’s a thief, but—”

  “He’s a cutthroat and a liar.” He gestured towards me. “You’ve made a bad bargain.”

  “How can you be so certain?” I asked, my voice little more than a croak.

  “The whoremonger and I go way back. I should’ve cut his mangy throat when I had a chance—damn!” He pounded his fist on the table, shaking the earthen cups. He waved off a slave, who thought he signaled a refill.

  “That’s not everything,” I said, knowing he should hear the full story. “There’s more.”

  “So it’s worse than I suspected.”

  I glanced to Crispus, who shook his head as if to say, I told you so.

  “I gave him father’s ceremonial belt buckle for security,” I said.

  “My brother’s treasure?” Budar roared. All eyes turned to us. But after the length of a half-dozen heartbeats the other patrons resumed their own conversations. “Why did you give it to him?” Budar asked in a milder tone.

  I exhaled. “To guarantee Kyar wouldn’t have to work.”

  Budar shook his head, gulped the rest of his wine, and wiped his mouth on a sleeve. “You’re a fool if you thought he’d stop using her. The woman is working if she’s with him, which I doubt. And worse, the buckle’s gone. What other fool things have you done?”

  “There’s Gallus.” I explained about the loan and his offer to buy part of the latifundia.

  “At least you were smart enough to refuse him,” Budar growled. “Your mother would have cursed you to the grave. And I’d have broken every bone in your body.” He demonstrated with a gesture of his fists.

  “Thanks for your comforting words.”

  “Not much I can do about Gallus—you’ll have to repay him, no matter what happened to Kyar. But beware, if he’s like his scheming father, he’s not through with you yet.”

  Anger welled within, but I managed to keep my wits. “We’ve got to find Rix at once and see if she’s still with him.” I should have known better. Why had I trusted that thieving pimp?

  “Leave it to me,” Budar advised. “I come and go as I please. You can’t, and I don’t want you deserting your post.”

  I huffed. “I’m not stupid.”

  “Oh no?” Budar crinkled his nose and frowned. “You’re hot-blooded enough to try. When you’re young, your hard spear does all the thinking.”

  “I wouldn’t desert no matter what happened.”

  He jabbed a finger toward me. “See that you don’t!”

  “Regardless of what you learn, I’ll confront him. This is my problem, not yours.”

  “So tell me, how will you handle Rix?”

  For a moment Uncle Budar studied my face. My mind was in a state of turmoil—I couldn’t think of anything, hard as I tried.

  “That’s what I figured,” he said, “run out and cut his throat.”

  “What would you do?” I responded defensively.

  Toying with his cup, he eyed the table top for the space of a couple of heartbeats. He flicked a dead fly away with a snap of his middle finger.

  “Carefully,” he answered in a soft voice. “I leave tomorrow morning. When I find Rix, I’ll see
if he has your beauty. If not, I’ll learn where she’s gone.”

  “Don’t tell him we’re related.”

  “I won’t. Gods, knowing him, he’ll sell her to me, if she’s still his property.”

  We did not chat long, because my mind drifted to Kyar. I worried about her fate, and the words of the witch, Mugain. We parted company for the night, and I returned to my tent. What Uncle Budar said about Rix churned around and around in my mind. Tossing and turning, I hardly slept. The following morning Budar and his fierce Germans left camp.

  *

  Three days later, my uncle returned. He entered the temporary stable, which we had built over the last two days, where I was grooming Argento. Rain poured off the high-pitched straw roof in heavy sheets. Grimly, he stared as water dripped from his oil-coated cloak. “I found Rix, and, regretfully, I was right.” For a moment, only the sound of the downpour stood between us. “I’m . . . sorry.”

  “Kyar?” I asked. Numbed by his words, I managed to keep my voice and temper under control.

  “He sold her.”

  I slammed the bristled horse brush against the wooden railing, bouncing it into the next stall. “That son-of-a-whore!” Every muscle in my body knotted. I didn’t speak for several minutes. Looking down, I saw a jagged splinter had embedded deep into my palm from where I caught a stable post for support. I had to regain my composure, essential to deal with Rix and stay out of trouble.

  “Who did he sell her to? Why?”

  Budar cleared his throat. “He claims the owner, meaning you, was killed at Maugh-Dun Castle, and had paid only three quarters of her price. He had to recoup the rest of the money.”