by R. W. Peake
Alex would later swear that it was not by design, and he still maintains this, but before I could pursue what was in fact a slip on his part by mentioning the woman’s name, which he had no reason to know, she reappeared with a tray and two cups, but when I reached down into my purse, she gave me a firm shake of her head.
“No, Centurion. This round is on Marcus and me, in honor of your father.”
I thanked her, but even then, it was on my mind to ask Alex, yet before I could, he switched subjects.
“What do you think they’re talking about?” I suppose my initial reaction was a blank stare, because he elaborated, “Giulia and Algaia.”
I did not need time to think about it, answering, “Probably us.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he said ruefully, to which I wholeheartedly agreed. Then he asked, “How far have you gotten in your father’s account?”
I had to think for a moment, mainly because of the manner in which he was hopping from one topic to the next, which again, turned out to be by design, as he wanted me distracted from seeing the woman Lydia lingering at one table on the opposite side of the room.
“I’m up to where he was moved to the First of the First, in Siscia,” I recalled. “The Colapiani had just risen up after his Primus Pilus marched him and the other men he used for his off the books business to their town, and he had my father break that woman’s arm.”
He nodded as he said, “That was before I joined him, but I certainly heard all about it, although not that much from your father. Mostly from Titus Domitius.”
The mention of my father’s friend from his days in Siscia, who was, in fact, like my father, the grandson of none other than Vibius Domitius, is what prompted me to say, “I’d like to meet him someday.”
“He’s a good man,” Alex confirmed, then hesitated a beat before adding, “although I know Uncle Titus told me a few months ago that he changed after his wife died.”
“I suppose…”
I never finished my thought, my attention jerked away first by the sense of a figure moving into my range of vision, followed an instant later by a gravelly voice.
“Salve, Centurion!”
I looked up, and whatever I had been about to say was forgotten, caused by the combination of this man’s size, which did not match mine but was close, yet, more than that, his demeanor. Do not mistake me, he was smiling, and his greeting had been genial enough…on the surface, which triggered something inside me that warned me to be on my guard.
Nevertheless, I matched his tone, “Salve, Centurion…?”
“Quintus Pilus Prior Lucius Petronius,” he answered, correctly interpreting my tone. “And, forgive the intrusion. It’s just that I wanted to come over and pay my condolences to you on the loss of your father. I met him, you know.”
“No, I didn’t know that,” I replied, and it was at this moment I noticed that he had neither asked nor made an attempt to sit down, but I leaned over slightly to look past him, and it was the sight of the three men seated at the table he had just been occupying that was most telling. I do not know if this was what prompted me to add, “And he was my adoptive father, but I still thank you for your condolences.”
The look of surprise he tried to pull was so obviously artificial that, under other circumstances, I would have found it amusing.
“Adoptive? Gerrae! Anyone with eyes can see that you’re his son. His…” he paused, then raised his voice, “…natural son. Although,” he affected a look of puzzlement that was as clumsy and contrived as the expression he had just pulled a moment before, “I suppose I’m confused…”
Before he could say anything, I cut him off. “That’s understandable. You look like you’re the type to be easily confused.”
I did not say this belligerently; at least, I did not try to sound that way, and in my defense, I was rewarded by the sound of snickering from not just his comrades, but from the other men, and women, who were now paying avid attention.
His face darkened, and I saw his right hand, hanging down at his side as it was, curl into a fist, but he seemed to recover somewhat, because he repeated, “As I said, I’m confused, because Gregarii can’t be married.” Now, he leered at me, as he added, “And unless you sprang up fully a man, there is no way that you were born when he could have gotten a dispensation.”
Somehow, I managed to keep my own voice level, but the beast inside me was not only uncoiled from its tight ball, I could feel it stretching as I interrupted, “Did you manage to work that out all by yourself? Or,” for the first time, I released the hold of my cup and pointed to the other three men, “did you need their help?” Before he could respond, in my own attempt to sound puzzled, I asked, “What did you say your rank was…Petronius, was it?”
“I’m the Quintus Pilus Prior,” he snapped, and now he was angry, pointing a finger at me. “And I worked my way up through the ranks, like your Tata,” he snarled this as if it was an insult, “not as a paid man like you.” I suppose the sound of his own voice helped him regain some of his equilibrium, because before I could say anything, he upped the ante, as it were. Snapping his fingers in the manner one does when something has just come back to them, Petronius said, “Right, I remember now. You’re a paid man, and the only way a paid man is in the Centurionate is if he and his Tata are in the Equestrian Order. But,” for the first time, he took his eyes from me to look over at his comrades, and judging from their expressions, he was giving them a triumphant grin, “Titus Pullus was no equestrian, and no equestrian would marry a woman from the Head Count. So,” he turned back to me, “that can only mean one thing. You’re a…”
He did not get any further than that.
My next clear memory is of a weight on my back, with an arm around my neck, but it was the sound of Alex’s voice shouting in my ear that pulled me from the precipice and prevented me from being executed.
“Gnaeus! Gnaeus! That’s enough! By the gods, stop!”
It was because of his voice that I did not just fling him off me and finish Petronius, who was lying prone on the floor, with me straddling him and sitting on his chest, and it was then that I also noticed my right fist was pulled back, next to my face. I turned my head just enough to see how my knuckles were skinned, and my hand was covered in blood.
Alex remained on my back, but I felt his arm loosen from around my neck, which prompted me to mumble, “I’m fine now, Alex.” When he did not move, I assured him, “Truly, I am. Now…get off me.”
As I intended, he correctly interpreted this as a command, and once he got off my back, only then did I stand, and for the first time, took a look around the room. Petronius’ friends, who now that they were standing, I saw were all Centurions as well, were staring at me, but I did not get the sense that they had any intention of coming to the aid of their friend. If anything, the way they were gaping at me made me think of the kind of frightened look a child might have when he sees his father in a drunken rage beating their mother. The next thing I noticed was the quiet, giving me the sense that everyone watching was still holding their breath, which in turn made me aware of a wheezing sound, and as odd as it may sound, this was what prompted me to really look at Petronius for the first time. His face was a mess, and with every breath, he sent up a fine spray of blood through a nose that was now smashed flat against his face, while his jaw was no longer aligned correctly. Truthfully speaking, his entire head no longer held the shape one associates with a human, and I was struck by the thought; I did that?
“Gnaeus,” Alex did not speak loudly, but there was no missing the urgency, and I turned to him to see he was holding a hand out. “Give me your purse, then get out of here. I’ll take care of this.”
I could only stare at him in bafflement, unable to understand, and I asked, “How by Pluto’s cock do you think you can handle this?” I shook my head, feeling the surge of despair as the full import of what happened came rushing at me. “I’m fucked. That’s all there is to it.”
“No,” he
said this without hesitation, and very firmly, “you’re not.” He lowered his voice even further, almost to a whisper. “Do you trust me, Gnaeus?”
“Of course!”
“Then give me your purse and go back to the villa.”
So I did as he commanded, stepping over Petronius’ body, and I confess I took some satisfaction with the way men scrambled out of my way as I made my way to the door. Just before I reached it, however, Alex called my name, and as I turned around, I was certain that he would change his mind about his ability to smooth this over, but he just tossed me my vitus, which I managed to catch. Then, I exited the Happy Legionary. And, so far, I have not been back, nor do I intend to for the next few years.
When I entered my mother’s villa, I had barely crossed the triclinium to greet my mother and Algaia, when my mother demanded severely, “Gnaeus! What has happened to you? Have you been in a fight?”
Honestly, I was astonished, and while I can laugh about it now, in the moment, I felt very much like I was once again ten years old and returning from a childhood battle.
Which was why, despite myself, I heard what I knew was my voice answering meekly, “Yes, Mother.” But, before she could say anything, I insisted, “But it’s not my fault! I didn’t start it!”
“It never is,” she snorted, yet, despite the fact that she certainly had justification to make this statement in the past, this time, I refused to simply accept that judgment.
“It was about you,” I told her quietly.
Her expression changed rapidly at this.
“Me?” she asked, obviously astonished, and to my eye, disbelieving, which stung a bit. “How on Gaia’s Earth is that possible? Nobody knows me here! I haven’t been here long enough, and I never go out! So how could this have been about me?”
This was when I realized that, in my determination to avoid the chastisement from my mother, I had inadvertently opened a box of issues that required some explanation. Fortunately, I was saved, once again by Alex, although this time, it was because he entered the room.
Tossing me my coin purse, he said only, “It’s been handled.”
He was saying that just as I caught the purse, and I could not stop from gasping, because it was barely a quarter full, and it had been bulging when we departed Ubiorum.
“How much did it cost?” I asked, but Alex did not respond verbally, just pointed to the purse.
Seeing this would not suffice, he sighed and said, “Exactly how much it took, that’s how much it cost.” His voice changed a bit, and I heard a hint of anger as he asked, “What? Do you think I just threw money in the air?”
“No.” I shook my head, realizing how it must have sounded. “I know you didn’t.”
“Would someone please explain exactly what happened?”
Frankly, I had forgotten my mother, but before either of us could say anything, Algaia interjected, “Yes, I would like to know as well.”
Except that she was staring at Alex as she spoke. Realizing that I had no real choice, I opened my mouth, but before I could, Alex stopped me.
“Gnaeus, may I speak with you privately?”
I was naturally fine with this, but my mother was not, and she stood up from the couch.
“No, Alex, he may not speak with you privately. I have just as much right to know as he does. And,” she smiled sweetly, but I had experienced that smile before, and understood there was nothing sweet about it, “I will just follow you around this house. It is mine, after all.”
Alex looked over at me, but while I satisfied my honor with a glare at my mother, I grumbled, “Fine. Whatever you have to say, go ahead and say it here.”
He clearly did not like it any more than I did, but he still began, asking me, “Do you remember the conversation we had right after you accepted your adoption? About what was likely to happen? And,” he added meaningfully, at least to me, “what you needed to do about it?”
“I do,” I confirmed.
Suddenly, my normally imperturbable clerk looked nervous, and he showed who he was nervous about when he glanced at my mother before he continued, “What happened today with Petronius was that plan.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out, so I could only stare at him in disbelief, yet I also knew that he would not joke or exaggerate about such a thing.
“That’s why you took me to The Happy Legionary?” I asked, and he nodded; this was when something fell into place, and I groaned, “Which is how you knew her name.”
He nodded again, but this proved too much for my mother, who stood and practically shouted, “One of you better explain what’s happening here, right now!”
Giulia Volusenus never served in the Legions, but whether it was because she had grown up in a Legion town or she just had that essence that makes an officer, even as absurd I knew I looked snapping to intente, I still did it. Out of the corner of my vision, I could see that, while Alex was not exactly at the same position, he was certainly standing erect and unmoving, and I glanced over at him to see an inquiring expression on his face.
I nodded to him, and he began, “Actually, Giulia, it was my idea.”
He then explained how he had approached me, after I had decided to accept Titus Pullus’ offer of adoption and I first understood the wider ramifications of my acceptance, and the questions it would raise, particularly the one that Petronius had at least begun to raise at The Happy Legionary. I divided my attention between how my mother was taking what Alex was saying, while occasionally, Alex would glance over at me, asking for silent permission to not leave anything out, which I gave, again with only a nod. Once Alex was finished, my mother sat, quietly, for several heartbeats.
“That,” she broke her silence, acknowledging, “is very clever. And,” suddenly, she sighed, and I saw a glimmer in her eyes, “I understand that it was necessary.” She surprised me then, turning to me to say, “I am so…sorry, my son.” Something seemed to happen, some sort of dam bursting, and she began weeping. The night before, she had shed tears, yet this was different, and she buried her face in her hands so that her voice was muffled, but I heard her clearly enough. “If I had just had the courage to go against my mother, none of this would have been necessary!”
Before I knew it, I was sitting next to her, putting an arm around her shoulders, which were shaking, and I tried my best to soothe her. This seemed to help, because she stopped crying, and when she lifted her face from her hands, I saw a set to her jaw that I had learned to recognize.
“So, Alex,” she asked him, “how do you know that this…Petronius won’t make trouble?”
“First,” Alex answered, “Petronius is one of the biggest brawlers in the 5th, and he’s had to buy his way out of trouble himself. And,” at this, he turned to me, “what you didn’t know was that your father and Petronius had a history.” He grinned as he said, “The kind of history that means that I knew as soon as Petronius found out who you were, he’d come after you.” While I grinned back at the cleverness of it, my mother was not as impressed, and the glare she gave Alex caused his smile to fade, and he hurried on, “Yes, well. I’d seen Petronius before, and the time he and your father tangled, it was there at The Happy Legionary.”
“How did you know he would be there?” This came from Algaia, who had been sitting quietly, although I glanced over at her occasionally, and now that I knew her better, I was not altogether surprised that she was paying close attention.
“I didn’t,” Alex admitted, then added, “not with any certainty. But The Happy Legionary is one of two places where there are men who I knew had clashed with Uncle Titus in the past, and who were the right rank. So,” he concluded with a shrug, “I decided to see if he happened to be there now that we’re on the winter schedule.”
“Wait,” my mother interjected. “What do you mean ‘the right rank’?”
Before Alex could respond, I took over, answering her, “Because, Mama, if I had beaten a Centurion who wasn’t my grade, like a Hastatus Posterior
, I would be striking a subordinate.”
“But this was out in town,” she countered, but I shook my head and assured her, “That wouldn’t have mattered.” Then, realizing I needed to expand my explanation, I added, “At least, if that Centurion decided to press the issue.”
She did not reply, at least to me, turning to Alex instead, and with her question, reminded me that she had grown up in a Legion town, asking him, “What did you say Petronius’ grade was?”
“Quintus Pilus Prior,” Alex replied, frowning with the same kind of confusion I was feeling, but she quickly cleared it up.
“I know that I’m a woman and don’t know much about such things,” she said, with a tone that I recognized, which she used whenever she was forced to confront the reality that a Roman woman is viewed as little more than an idiot by a wide swathe of our society that is exclusively male, “but as I recall, there is a difference between a Pilus Prior of a first line Cohort and that of the second, or third line. If,” she smiled and added with a modesty that was obviously counterfeit, “I am correct, but as I said, I’m a woman, so I may be wrong.”
Alex grinned at her, clearly as disbelieving at her display as her son, and he acknowledged, “You are correct, Domina, and I commend you on your knowledge.” He stopped smiling then, explaining seriously, “But that’s why it was important that it be Petronius, because as I mentioned, he has a history of not only brawling, but when Uncle Titus beat him, it was before he became Pilus Prior so, despite the fact that Petronius lost the fight,” he glanced over at me, and the humor returned, “and lost it badly, he was the aggressor. The money I paid,” he finished, “was mainly to remind Lydia and her man, along with a handful of other patrons, that the last time Petronius tangled with a Pullus, while he came out on the losing side, he could have lost even more if Uncle Titus had reported it.”
At least to me, this seemed to settle the matter, but my mother was still unconvinced.
“So,” she said doubtfully, “you’re counting on this Petronius character’s honor, after he’s been beaten, both by Gnaeus and his father, not to make a fuss about this.”