“The line for goats and boys is around back,” I snapped. “This line is for women.” His eyes flashed. He mumbled something unintelligible, spat at my feet, and turned away entering Kyar’s cubicle. I left hurriedly from Rix’s.
Chapter 11 - Mid-April, 44 AD
A couple of days after I had seen Kyar, Legion Headquarters received word of large movements of Durotrigian warriors raiding local farms, west of our outpost. At the instigation of Caratacus, they confiscated livestock and murdered every peasant—men, women, and children alike.
Early, the following morning, as an icy rain pounded in sheets against the camp’s buildings, Gallus summoned every decurion and sergeants from the cavalry cohort to his office. He had received orders to flush out the enemy from every suspected area, including Druid temples. General Vespasian ordered all temples razed. After relaying his instructions, the tribune dismissed all the leaders but me, whom he ordered to stay behind.
“Had you waited a few more weeks, Sergeant Reburrus,” he lectured me, as I stood at attention in his office, “you could have destroyed the Druid Temple in obedience to orders.”
“Yes, sir,” I answered, puzzled as to what his true reason was for ordering me to stand by. For a moment, Gallus scanned the half-dozen thinly stripped message tablets, made of alder wood, on his desk.
“Instead,” he continued, “you suffered yourself the humiliation of executing a fellow soldier and hatred of the men.”
Surprisingly, there had been little animosity vented toward me since Avaro’s death. Why was Gallus reminding me of events still fresh in my mind? He had spoken little to me since the execution, partly due to the fact I avoided anything that would draw his attention.
“But we wouldn’t have broken the spy ring and learned about Caratacus’s movements,” I reminded the tribune, “if I hadn’t raided the temple.”
With one swipe of the hand, he scattered the tablets onto the floor, the noise bringing his Greek clerk from the next room. Gallus waved him away. “Insolent as ever! How fortunate the generals were inspecting the camp.” His cold eyes glared up at mine.
“I had no prior knowledge of their planned inspection, sir.”
He raised his nearly invisible eyebrows. “Indeed, Castor and Pollux must favor you. The gods of good luck often protect fools.”
The muscles in my body tightened. I gritted my teeth but managed to keep a straight face.
“I have written my father,” he continued, “about your tricks.”
“Tricks, sir?”
“The attack on the temple, Sergeant, what else? If General Sabinus has any plans for your future, which I doubt, my father shall see that Emperor Claudius squashes them. Don’t waste your efforts on becoming a hero.”
“I won’t. In combat, good soldiers don’t have time to think about heroics. We’re too busy killing the enemy and trying to stay alive.”
“See that you remain a good soldier,” Gallus warned, “or you may not survive. Now, get out!”
I left his office barely containing my anger. Gallus didn’t have enough strength to deal with me on his own. Now my father’s old enemy was dragged into this absurd matter—all this for a knighthood. I couldn’t understand how one equestrian made a difference to the Gallus family. Was this an example of the ruthless power his people used against anyone they considered a threat to their interests? Why had I been singled out? Did he embrace all his father’s foes as family enemies? I could never be his rival. I had no aspirations for the Senate, nor the money, one million sesterces, required to qualify for that lofty position. I realized Gallus’s cold heart pumped larger quantities of hatred and bigotry than blood.
*
I returned to my troop who were already saddled, waiting to go on patrol. The rain had stopped, the sky clearing, puffy, white clouds receding in the distance. Rufius gave me a questioning look. I was about to explain when he told me to mount up. “We’ll discuss it later,” he said.
The troop headed out of camp, and we rode westward, searching the last area where the marauders had been sighted.
About midafternoon the unit crossed the top of an oak-covered ridge. Below, in a narrow valley, lay the charred remains of a peasant’s farmstead. We investigated the blackened ruins, smoke still wafting above the charred debris. I discovered the bodies of a husband, wife, and three small children who had been hacked to death. A black stream of ants crawled over the bodies, and flies buzzed about. I was sickened. What the barbarians hadn’t burned, they took with them. Dozens of horse tracks and the hoof prints of cattle left a wide trail leading westward.
We searched the place further but found no survivors. After burying the victims, our horsemen set off after the killers, following the tracks most of the afternoon through fields and across numerous small streams. We gained on the outlaws as their trail of broken wine jugs grew fresher and wetter. Soon, the troop would clash with them. My chest tightened. A knot developed in my stomach. Perspiration ran down my face. I experienced the same feeling before every conflict—the fear of death, and how I would acquit myself in battle. Never had I acted in a cowardly manner, but I still prayed I wouldn’t fail to do my duty.
As we approached the crest of a ridge covered by beech and yews, the point man Andubal galloped back from the top. Rufius signaled a halt and briefly conversed with him. The decurion beckoned for the sergeants. We dismounted and followed the commander through the bushes. The four of us spotted about forty or fifty enemy horsemen crossing the valley’s half-moon shape floor below, herding a nearly equal number of horses and cows.
“Look at all that loot,” Edecon said in a low voice, gesturing to the booty-laden spare mounts.
“They’re an overconfident lot,” I added. Bunched together, the barbarians deployed neither a rearguard nor forward scouts on their flanks, as they headed for the great forest of fir and pine trees at the other end of the small valley.
“Aye, but we’ve got to cut them off before they reach the woods and scatter,” Rufius added. “Back to our mounts. Move out!”
*
The battle was over almost as quickly as it had begun. The few surviving bandits fled, swallowed by the forest. Our troop tended to the wounded and laid the dead over their horses, for return to camp and a decent cremation. Our troop of thirty lost six men including two of mine, Albinus and Severus. The Durotrigians lost more than forty, plus five wounded prisoners we executed.
Including those belonging to the raiders, we confiscated the cattle and over eighty horses. The stolen goods included a huge cache of full beer and wine jugs. I also hacked off the finger, containing a silver boar’s head ring, from a savage I had slain. After pulling off the ring, I tossed the bloody appendage away.
Later, the patrol returned by way of the ruined farmstead. As we rode by, Corribilo spotted a boy, not more than ten years old, scavenging through the debris. The lad saw us and ran, but Corribilo quickly caught up to him on his mount. He lifted the youngster, who pummeled him with his little hands, off his feet and onto his horse. The sergeant pulled to a halt, grabbed the child’s arms, and in his own language spoke to him in soothing words. Corribilo was our interpreter.
Riding back to us, Corribilo pulled up, the youth now calmer. “The dead people we found are the boy’s family,” Corribilo said. “He’d been up in the hills when the raiders attacked the farm, and hid in the bushes. Then he saw us and thought we were raiders, too.”
“What’s his name?” Rufius asked.
“Chulainn, sir,” Corribilo answered. “He says he refuses to leave his home.”
“He doesn’t have a choice,” Rufius said. “I’m not going to leave him to starve or to be butchered by another pack of savages.”
“What are we going to do with him, sir?” I asked.
“There is a peasant’s farm near our base,” Rufius said as he looked back over his shoulder. “He seems to be one of the more prosperous ones, if there is such a thing in this land. We’ll leave the boy with him.”
Corribilo brought Chulainn along. When we reached the farm, Rufius persuaded the farmer into taking the boy. The decurion offered him three cows as payment, a fortune because these people seldom owned more than one or two. Chulainn pointed to a brown, spotted-faced cow, among the herd we had confiscated, and claimed it had belonged to his family. He asked the farmer to accept the animal as one of the three. Rufius nodded, satisfying the boy.
I approached Chulainn when the others returned to their horses and gave him the boar’s head ring. I wasn’t sure why I did, except I knew it to be valuable, and it was my way of partially compensating him for the loss of his family.
As we rode away, Chulainn waved farewell. We had drawn first blood in the spring offensive, and the men were anxious to return to camp with their tales of heroism.
“What did you give the lad?” Rufius asked as I rode by his side.
“Nothing significant, sir, a boar’s ring,” I had threatened the old farmer, perhaps too harshly, with an oath of what would happen if Chulainn lost the silver ring, or met a sudden death.
I wondered if I would ever see the lad again.
Chapter 12 - May, 44 AD
During the first week of May, at morning roll call, Sextus Rufius notified the troop the spring offensive would be launched in two weeks against the Durotrigians. Breaking their pledge to remain neutral, they had allied themselves with Caratacus. The cohort had been ordered to join Legion Second Augusta during the second week in May, and preparations for the march would begin immediately.
Although pleased the cohort was included in the new campaign, I hated leaving Kyar behind. Rix sold his women on a regular basis. If she were bought by another slaver, I would never see her again. In the meantime, I was determined to visit her as often as possible.
That evening, I returned to the tavern and paid the old Gallic woman triple to spend additional time with Kyar.
As we lay together, after our love making, I told her about our unit’s plan to leave on campaign.
She gasped. “What? So the rumors are true about the army leaving? I didn’t want to believe them. I can’t stand the thought of your leaving.”
I pulled her closer to me, smelling her sweetly scented auburn hair. “Unfortunately, they are, but don’t fret, I’ve made up my mind.”
“About what?”
“I’m going to see Rix, and make an offer for you.” I pulled on the blanket.
Kyar pushed herself away and looked me in the eyes. “You really mean it? You’re going to buy me as your woman?”
“Of course, I am,” I answered, puzzled by her question. “Don’t you believe me?”
Kyar sighed. “I was hoping you would, but you know how soldiers are. They’ll say anything to have their way with women.”
“I’m not that kind,” I countered. Gently, I took her in my arms and lightly kissed her naturally pouting lips. “I truly want you for my woman.”
“Please, be careful, Marcellus.” Even in the murky light of the cubicle, Kyar’s dark-green eyes seemed to be pleading, and she clung to me as if something fearful would happen if she let go. “He’ll rob you if you’re too eager.”
“The old thief will anyway. I know how to barter, I’ll get the price down.”
Rix’s price for Kyar would be exorbitant. He knew I was from a rich family. By army standards, I carried a lot of money, but for the purchase of Kyar, I feared it wouldn’t be enough. If Rix’s final offer was too high, would he be willing to take a partial payment from me until I received the balance from home? Would he accept a token of security guaranteeing she would not work while I was on campaign? Naturally, she would have to remain with him, an idea I considered revolting, but this was an unusual situation. No one other than Gallus had the money I needed, and I wasn’t about to ask him for a loan. Not wanting to alarm Kyar, I wouldn’t say anything unless it reached that point.
“You’ll still pay too much,” Kyar said, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I studied her soft face, accented by high cheek bones and a small turned-up nose, and smiled. “You’re worth it.”
Our time was up, and after I got dressed, Kyar kissed me for luck.
“I’ll return as soon as I make the deal,” I promised.
Outside in the bar area, I approached Rix, who wore his usual wine-stained tunic and breeches, as he argued with a trooper over the price of a dancer. A few minutes later we entered his dingy, makeshift office and sat at an expensive sandalwood table covered with parchments, an inkwell, and stylus. I took a seat on a wooden stool across from him.
“You know she’s my best woman,” Rix said, after I offered to purchase Kyar. He narrowed his gray right eye, the left covered by a greasy patch. A mocking black-toothed grin crossed his blotchy square face.
“Is she?” I asked. “A worthless slut were the words you used a few seconds after the fight the evening I first saw her.”
He pushed aside the documents with scarred fingers, the nails cracked and filthy, and folded his arms. “Nonetheless, she’s in great demand. For all the problems she causes, she brings in a lot of money. If I decide to sell her, the price will be very high.”
“From you, that’s no surprise.”
“This isn’t a game, you know, it’s business,” he added in a voice of contempt, gesturing toward me.
I bit my tongue and controlled my eagerness. “How much?”
“Five thousand sesterces,” he said.
I slapped the table, palm down, the sound carrying beyond the office confines. “Outrageous, three hundred! One hundred more than any whore is worth.” Kyar was no whore in my eyes, but I dared not tell Rix, or his asking price would soar.
“And you’re insulting. I’m a businessman,” he answered in a snarling voice. “You know she’s special. Besides, you’re a rich soldier from an important family. However, for you, I’ll let her go for forty-five hundred.”
“Seven hundred.”
“The guards, where are they when I’m being robbed?” he cried, gesturing his hands skyward in prayer. “Not a sesterce less than four thousand!”
The haggling went on for another half-hour. “I’ll give you two thousand sesterces, and that’s my final offer, it’s all I have,” I said.
“Sold,” he snapped. He shook his head in mock defeat. “You drive a hard bargain, Sergeant, no wonder you’re rich.”
“And you made a huge profit. Remind me never to buy a horse from you.”
“Likewise, my Spanish friend.”
Now came the moment I was dreading. I barely had twelve hundred sesterces in the cohort bank, equivalent to more than eight year’s pay, and a fortune to most soldiers. I planned to hold back two hundred for emergencies. But would Rix agree to my proposition?
“Rix, there is one problem?” I said uneasily.
“Oh. What is it?” his lips twisted into a sneer.
“I can only pay half now, but I can give you the other one thousand in three months when it arrives from Hispania.” I could get it in two, but there might be delays. I needed extra time.
Rix glared, studying me for a moment. “That wasn’t part of the bargain, Sergeant,” he said in a growling voice. “You tricked me into believing you had the money. That’s not how I run a business. Unless you have the money agreed upon, the wench is not for sale!”
A sense of desperation welled within me. I had to remain calm and somehow convince Rix of my sincerity and, above all, that he was getting the better deal. I wasn’t about to lose Kyar when I was so close to claiming her for my own.
“Consider this, Rix,” I explained, “you’d get half of my money and this.” I pulled from my money pouch a small but heavy gold belt buckle covered by a protective plaque. The center motif contained the hammered formed images of a dozen tiny warriors fighting lions on a granulated background, bordered on four sides by stylized palm leaves. I handed it to him.
Rix’s eyes widened in awe as he rubbed his fingers over the palmettes. “Where did you get this little treasure?”
“You would give this to me for a woman?”
“I want it back, Rix. Consider it as security towards her upkeep, which I’ll pay in addition to the balance of her purchase.”
Rix seemed to ponder the proposal for a minute. I could almost see him praying to the gods for my death so he could keep my family heirloom. A trace of a smile appeared on his lips. “All right, I’m a fool, but I’ll accept your absurd offer. Half now, and a quarter more by tomorrow! There will be an additional charge of twenty-five percent interest on the unpaid balance,” he spouted. “After all, if a better offer came along after concluding the agreement, I couldn’t sell her, I’m an honorable man.” This from Rix the thief, in an indignant tone. He waved his hands with great animation. “And what if you’re killed? Your cohort leaves within two weeks.”
“If I die you’ll still have my money and Kyar. Either way you gain.”
An evil grin crossed his fetid mouth. “Aye, so I will. Pray that you survive.”
Where could I get a quarter more? Impossible.
And then I knew where and hated the answer.
“Agreed,” I snapped, before reconsidering the consequences and true cost of my plan.
“You’ll have no more than three months to pay the balance,” Rix continued, “otherwise she stays, and so does your deposit. If the money is lost or stolen en route, that’s your problem, not mine—three months!”
A sense of relief rushed through my body, but almost as quickly, a queasy feeling churned my gut. “You’ll get it,” I answered.
I was about to turn away when something else crossed my mind. I stood and leaned across the table and glared into Rix’s cruel eyes. “One other matter, you are to leave her alone,” I warned. “Outside of waiting on tables and cleaning the bar area, she is not to work, you know what I mean? If I hear so much as one rumor that you’ve harmed Kyar, I’ll cut your balls off and stuff them down your throat—understand?”
The Broken Lance Page 10