by R. W. Peake
“I’m sorry.” Septimus was on his knees, sobbing as he repeated over and over, “I’m sorry, Gaius.”
Gaius was conscious, his eyes open and on his brother, and I saw that that mad light I had seen in his eyes was gone; now my uncle looked like almost every other man I had seen who knew he was dying. Blood was pouring from his mouth, but there was not enough light nor was I close enough to see if the blood was foaming, the sign that his lungs had been punctured.
Somehow, Gaius managed to speak in a barely audible voice, “At…least…I died well, neh, brother? Like…a Pullus…”
He died before he finished, and despite all the torment and turmoil Gaius Pullus put his family through, I do affirm that he died well, indeed; he died like a Pullus should, with a gladius in his hand. I would also be remiss if I said that his spirit had barely departed his body before I walked over and gently but firmly retrieved the Prefect’s gladius from his hand, and only now can I admit that my concern was that Septimus would try to assert his rights as paterfamilias to claim it; thankfully, it clearly never occurred to him, and he barely noticed as I picked it up. I did have to resist the urge to wipe Bellicanus’ blood off on Gaius’ tunic, but that was more of an automatic response than any intended insult. It was immediately after this that Septimus, after closing his brother’s eyes, stood up and told us to leave.
“Do you really think it will matter if you stay, Gnaeus?” Septimus countered my statement that I needed to stay so the authorities would know Gaius essentially committed suicide. “Do you really think that the duumviri are going to believe you even if you tell the truth? Or anyone else, for that matter?” He shook his head, and I could tell just by his tone he would not be swayed. “No, this is something I can handle on my own, and you don’t need to stay around for any of what’s about to happen.” Before I could say anything, he turned to Alex and Algaia. “And that goes for you two, especially you, Alex.”
This I did not understand, but Alex did, and although I know him even better now, I knew him well enough then to recognize that when he answered, it was for my benefit, “Because of Algaia. They’re likely to say that I was jealous and attacked Gaius because of that, not anything else. Although,” he did glance down at Algaia, whose eyes had never left Gaius’ body, “they’d at least be partially right.”
All I could think to do at that moment was to heave a sigh, understanding now that Septimus was correct.
“We’ll leave at first light,” I said, but then I took another glance at the open window and saw the gray quality of the light that announced dawn was almost here, so I amended, “Actually, two parts of a watch after first light.”
“You may want to leave sooner,” Septimus suggested, but on this, I would not be moved, and I shook my head.
“No, we need to go back to the villa so everyone can say their proper goodbyes.”
“What about him?”
At Algaia’s question, which I saw surprised Septimus as much as it did me, he glanced down at his brother for a moment, then lifted his head to scan the room. Not finding anything, he left the room, returning to the larger one where Bellicanus and the third man’s bodies were lying, and it was the thought of them that got me thinking about the other bodies that were down in the taverna, including Aroborix. So many people, I thought, are dead, all because Gaius was mad with what I suppose he thought of as love for a Breuci girl who belonged to another man. For, that is ultimately what I believe was the true cause for the events of that extraordinary night; the control of the Pullus family money was certainly important, but I will cross the river with the belief that Gaius would have been content to try and settle that in the courts, if only because the law was on his side. Algaia, on the other hand, was worth enough to him to kill and to die for, and that was why we were standing there, waiting for Septimus to return with a cloak, which he draped over Gaius’ body with a tenderness that I could see affected even Algaia. She had more cause to hate Gaius than anyone, yet while she was clearly not affected as deeply as Septimus, she looked more sad than satisfied, or even angry, despite all she had been through at his hands. Nevertheless, I was unprepared when, as we began to leave the room, she suddenly dropped to her knees next to Gaius’ body, then bowed her head and murmured words that, even if I had heard, I am certain I would not have understood. I suppose it is possible she was whispering a curse, calling on her gods to torment the dead man in the afterlife, but I do not believe that was what she was doing. Alex did not look happy about it, but neither did he say anything, and quickly enough, she was up on her feet, and I followed them out of the small room. Septimus stopped only long enough to pick up the saddlebags that the dead gladiator had been finishing with, and I saw him struggle slightly, so I extended my hand. When he complied, I almost dropped it; not only had I underestimated how heavy it would be, I had based that on an underestimate of Septimus’ strength.
“I wonder how much is in here?” I asked without thinking, then immediately realized how that would sound, so I added quickly, “Not that it matters one way or another. I’m not worried about the money.”
Septimus smiled at that, albeit sadly, and I learned why when he said, “This is another time where you sound like your father. He was never worried about the money either. Until so much of it was gone.”
Before I could say anything to that, he descended the secret stairway down into the taverna, and we followed behind as I wondered if there was a hidden rebuke of my father there somewhere. Once more, we paused at the body of Aroborix, and while I had only known him for a matter of watches, I felt a surprisingly deep level of sadness, and even more regret that my family’s strife had led to the death of a man who had survived more than a hundred bouts in the arena.
“I’ll come back and make sure they’re all taken care of,” Septimus assured me, and we exited the taverna, waiting while Septimus locked it.
“Not that it will do much good, once the word gets out about Gaius,” he muttered. “The rats and vultures will be stripping this place clean by sundown.”
I did not know what to say about that, so I kept my mouth shut, and we did not run, but walked quickly back to the villa. Unfortunately, by this time, the streets were no longer deserted, although it was still only those merchants, like the bakers and tradesmen who relied on starting with the sunrise, but we drew our share of inquiring looks that, somehow, I was certain had nothing to do with my size this time. It was not until we got back to the villa that we learned the cause; being liberally spattered with blood is going to attract the attention of others, no matter the cause. The gate had been closed at least, but it was unlocked, and we entered through the postern door. Chickpea was gone, although not far; he had been laid out on the kitchen table, lying on the sheet that would become his shroud, where Birgit and Gisela were busy cleaning his body for burial. Naturally, they stopped when we entered, and there was a silence then, although it was more because we were each waiting for someone else to speak, but I think it was right that it was Septimus who announced that Gaius was dead. And, as I had witnessed with Algaia, both Birgit and Gisela burst into tears, showing a level of grief that, frankly, I found a bit odd considering how he had beaten Birgit. It was only later, during the long watches on horseback heading back to Ubiorum, that I had time to think about it, and it makes more sense to me now. According to everyone, Gaius was not always like that, and even Alex had fond memories of him back when they were children. Algaia, on the other hand, never mentioned Gaius’ name once on our return journey, and in my presence, she has never mentioned him since. Honestly, the worst moment was with Miriam, who, hearing our return, came rushing down the stairs, and I heard her footsteps as she entered the kitchen, then took a couple of steps into the room before coming to a dead stop. Nobody said a word, but she obviously saw the truth in Septimus’ face, because she dropped to her knees, buried her face in her hands, and began sobbing uncontrollably. Septimus crossed over to her, going to his knees as well, while she wrapped her arms around his neck a
nd buried her face in his chest, as the two siblings mourned the loss of their brother, and in that moment, I at least knew that the reason for his death did not matter. All of that, I was certain, would come later, and I stood there wondering whether there would be recriminations by Miriam against Septimus, which made me want to say something to her. Time, unfortunately, was against us. I was surprised when Birgit appeared at my elbow, offering a wet rag.
“You need to get cleaned up,” she said softly. “Alex just told me that you’re leaving shortly.”
Mumbling a thanks, for the first time, I actually took a look at myself, and I was not particularly happy at what I saw. My arms were streaked and spattered with blood from the elbows down, and my hands in particular were sticky, but I got cleaned up fairly quickly, then I headed upstairs to pack my belongings, and when I saw that the body of the man I had slain had been removed, I wondered who had done it, not that it mattered. Naturally, it did not take long for me to do so; of all the skills a man of the Legions learns during his time under the standard, the ability to pack quickly ranks near the top of the most important, aside from the ability to stay alive, of course. Without thinking about it, I called out for Chickpea, feeling a stab of guilt a heartbeat later, remembering that he was stretched out on the table downstairs. I grabbed my pack myself, taking one last look at the room that, as I had been told, had once been shared by my father and my uncle Sextus, and it was not the first time that I wished there was some magic whereby their conversations had been trapped by the walls of this room. Descending the stairs, I saw that Chickpea had been removed, and the smell of baking bread made my mouth water, making me wonder if this sign of normality, even after such a cataclysmic series of events, was emblematic of a family who had been tied to the Legions, where life grinds on, relentlessly and with only the barest pause when there is a loss. It was not surprising that the mood was subdued, although the tears had stopped flowing, and Gisela did give me a sad smile as I left the villa to carry my baggage out to the stables. The sky was pink, and Alex was already busy saddling their horses, their baggage ready to be loaded onto the pack animals. I dropped mine next to theirs, while Latobius thrust his head back out of his stall, blowing his greeting, making me remember that it had been no more than two-thirds of a watch earlier when he had done it, the difference being this time I had grabbed an apple from the bowl of them. It was a moment of normality as he stretched out his neck, snuffled once or twice, then picked the correct hand, snatching the fruit from my palm, and I stood there rubbing his nose as he munched his treat.
“Are you ready to go home, boy?” I asked him, but his only reply was a twitch of his ears. Alex had been working in silence, and I did feel a bit of uncertainty about what to say, so all I came up with was, “Are you all right?”
He chuckled, replying, “Oh, I’m fine. Just a normal day leaving my mother, sister, and Gallienus behind, and gods only know how long it will be before we see each other again.” This was obviously true, but I suppose my expression was such that he added, “None of this is your fault, Gnaeus. And,” he sighed, “this has been building for some time. I knew it as soon as your father got back to Ubiorum that there would be a reckoning with Gaius. I’m just sorry that it had to happen when we brought him home…”
Suddenly, his voice cracked, and he began to weep, which naturally started my own tears, and I suspect that it was for the same reason; we had both forgotten, albeit temporarily, why we had been given leave by Germanicus to come to Arelate. We managed to compose ourselves, then walked together back into the villa, where there were steaming bowls of porridge, chunks of bread, some cheese, and on one plate, a large hunk of meat. Indeed, if one knew nothing about the Pullus family other than the amount of food, I suspect that an observer would believe that there was a shortage of plates and bowls, and two members of the family had to share. Naturally, that was my portion, and I could not hide a grin at the sight, while Birgit, who was now cleaned up, smiled at me.
“It’s been a while since we’ve had such a big appetite here,” she said, then the smile faded, and while I knew her sadness was more about her son’s departure, I did not begrudge her.
The mood was understandably subdued, the talk desultory; the children were still asleep, and Miriam was too distraught to join us, leaving just the adults, and to my surprise, young Gaius, who sat next to Alex, on the opposite side from Algaia. He was still a couple years away from donning the toga virilis, and my one regret was that I had not gotten to know him better, but because of all that had taken place, I had not had much chance to talk to him. It did not help that he did not talk much, but I had discerned that it was not from shyness as much as he was quite self-possessed, preferring to observe all that was going on and keeping those observations to himself. He was not my size when I had been that age…not quite, but he had the more muscular build that I suspected would develop quickly once he put the work in. During one of our only conversations, I had asked my cousin if he had been trained on his forms, and he shook his head.
“Only a little,” he admitted. “My Avus had started teaching me, but he had to do it behind Mama’s back.”
I actually found this somewhat surprising, probably because my experience with my own mother had been so different, and I suppose I had just assumed that Birgit, being the wife of a Legionary, and part of this family, would have encouraged her son with my uncle Sextus to at least learn how to hold a gladius, but when I mentioned this, I got a glimpse of something more to the boy, because there was no mistaking the amusement in his glance.
“You just met my mother, Gnaeus,” he assured me. “Alex wanted to be under the standard at first too, but he’s not. And,” he had sighed, in a manner that I found informative, “I won’t be either. Mama wants me to go into a trade of some sort.”
I had been about to ask him about what he wanted, then Birgit had appeared, as if she had been summoned by some form of magic, since we had been alone in the room I was using, with the door almost shut. And, while I did not think much of it at the time, as I sat at the table now, just before our departure, I recalled that the look she had given me was none too friendly. None of that was in evidence now, and as I ate, I watched as she was engaged in a whispered conversation with Algaia, one that, despite it not being loud enough for me to hear, seemed to be some sort of disagreement, at least judging by the manner in which Algaia emphatically shook her head. Birgit did not seem angry, or even irritated, and she had one hand on the girl’s shoulder, while Alex was talking to Gaius.
Septimus was sitting at the far end of the table, while Gisela was across from me, picking moodily at her food, which prompted me to say, half-jokingly, “You know, Gisela, if you don’t hurry up and eat that, I’m going to end up taking it from you.”
Since I had spoken in a normal conversational tone, it was the loudest thing said to that point, and Alex turned away from Gaius to inform his sister, “He’s not joking, sister. Gnaeus is notorious for stealing other people’s food. He’s worse than Ajax was.”
This caused her to giggle, and me to ask, somewhat annoyed, “And who’s Ajax?”
“He was our dog,” Alex replied with a straight face, but the rest of the occupants burst into laughter, even me.
“I hope he was a big dog at least,” I grumbled, pretending to be annoyed, but just happy to be the cause for a bit of levity.
“Oh no,” Gisela said gaily, holding her hand just about a foot above the table. “He was only this high.”
“Then why did you name him Ajax?” I asked, trying to prolong this moment.
“For the same reason Alex named his horse Lightning,” she said, laughing.
“And their father named his horse Thunder,” Birgit put in, and everyone but me laughed, long and hard about this shared piece of family history that was clearly not only amusing but a treasured memory.
“Oh, go p…” I started, but then recalled where and with whom I was, and managed to stop myself as Birgit gave me a glare that I knew was onl
y in jest.
Instead, I reached across the table to take Gisela’s untouched bowl, for which I got a sharp rap on the knuckles, eliciting an equally sharp yelp of surprise from me.