Avenging Varus Part II

by R. W. Peake

  “You weren’t eating that!” I protested, but Gisela was unmoved by what I thought was a cogent argument.

  “Just because I hadn’t touched it yet, that doesn’t give you the right to touch it,” she sniffed. Then she smiled at me and offered me the bowl as she said sweetly, “Gnaeus, would you like my porridge?”

  I decided to play along, certain that I knew where this was headed, and I said meekly, “Yes, Domina, I would,” reaching out for it as I did.

  And, as I expected, she pulled it away, then scooped up a spoonful, saying, “Well, so would I.”

  Then she shoved the spoon into her mouth, causing more laughter. A few moments later, we had finished our meal, and there was no more delaying, and Miriam, who had finally appeared, left to go rouse the children so they could come say their farewells while we left the villa. I pretended not to notice Algaia and Alex stopping at Chickpea’s shroud-wrapped body, where they both went to their knees to offer their prayers for his passage to the underworld, while I wondered what gods he worshiped. His Latin was very good, but it still betrayed that it was not his native tongue, and when I had asked, Alex had only known he came from Gaul somewhere. I led Latobius out of the stall to saddle him, and he arched his back, his way of showing he was ready to go for a ride. By that time, the family, or what was left of it, was gathered in the yard, and I stood accepting and returning the hugs and kisses from the children, who had warmed up to me, especially given how I had broken the news of their uncle’s death. Gisela was next, and while she gave me a chaste kiss on the cheek, I was certain that her lips lingered there a moment longer than necessary, which seemed confirmed when Alex grabbed her by the arm and none too gently pulled her away, although Birgit seemed more amused, and she was next, kissing me on both cheeks in a manner that reminded me of my mother.

  “While I am sorry for the reason that brought you here, Gnaeus, and for what happened while you were here, I am so happy that I met you,” she said, looking up at me with shining eyes. She had started out fairly composed, but I saw her chin trembling, giving me an instant’s warning, “And you look so much like your father! I am happy that he got to know the truth before he died.”

  She was not the only one crying, but I blame Birgit for that, and all I could think to say was, “I hope I make him proud, Birgit. I…worry about that.”

  “He worried about that as well,” she agreed, “about his Avus. And, I will tell you the same thing I told him. You already have. I only knew your great-grandfather the last year of his life, but all he expected from your father was that he perform his duties to Rome, to treat his men well, and to do everything to the best of his ability. The gods, he said, would take care of the rest. And,” she patted my chest, “I know that’s exactly what your father would say to you if he could. Now,” she finished with a motherly warning, “you watch after both of my sons.”

  “It’s the other way around,” I told her, meaning it, “at least with Alex.”

  “He,” Birgit looked over to him, where he was hugging Manius and Atia, “is the son of Diocles, so I’m not surprised.”

  Then, our farewells were done, and we all mounted up, but there was still one surprise left, and it happened as we nudged our horses towards the gate.

  “Algaia,” Birgit called out, “remember what I told you. If you get tired, you make these two stop. You have a baby to think about now!”

  I was leading our party, and I whirled in the saddle; Alex looked as white as I had ever seen him, while Algaia had two bright red spots on her cheeks, but she was the one who kicked her horse and went to the trot, out of the gate, leaving me and a very confused Alex to scramble to catch up. That was our departure from Arelate.

  Once out of the town, I decided it would be a good idea for me to ride a short distance ahead of Alex and Algaia, thinking they had some things to talk about. It turned out to be a discussion that covered several miles before, rather than calling me back to join them, I heard a horse coming at the trot and turned to see Alex, who drew up alongside me. He did not look at me, at first anyway, choosing to look straight ahead, while I had no idea what to say, but finally, I could not take the silence any longer.

  “Well? Is it true? Or was your mother playing a joke?”

  “No.” Alex sighed. “It’s true. She’s with child.”

  “How far along?” I asked, and he shrugged, although he answered, “According to my mother, she’s at least two months along.”

  “That means Algaia knew before we left Ubiorum,” I felt the first stirring of anger, not happy at the thought that I had allowed a pregnant woman to come on an arduous journey, but Alex shook his head.

  “No,” he looked over at me then, “she had no idea. My mother told her not long after we got to Arelate.”

  I did not see how this was possible, but later, when I mentioned this to my mother, still suspicious, she assured me in no uncertain terms that, not only was it possible, it was likely that Algaia had no idea, given this was her first child.

  “I had no idea I was carrying you until Plotina told me,” she told me. “And I was farther along than Algaia.”

  There on the road, I did realize it did not really matter, and frankly, my concern was more about what it meant for our travel plans than Algaia’s comfort, although I did try to be diplomatic about it.

  “You know,” I began as casually as I could, “if we do have to go more slowly…”

  “You’ll have to leave us behind,” Alex cut me off, and I sensed that while he was mostly amused, there was some irritation there as well. “Yes, I’m aware of that, Gnaeus. But,” he asked, “are you aware that we only spent five days in Arelate?”

  “Gerrae!” This was my initial reaction, but then, after a couple of heartbeats of thinking about it, I realized he was right. “Pluto’s cock, it seemed a lot longer than that!”

  “Yes, it did,” he agreed, then said softly, “but a lot happened. Now,” he drew up Lightning, “we’re going to wait for my woman to catch up.”

  She approached us with a timid expression on her face, and I realized that she was worried that I would be upset for some reason, though I had no idea why; later, I realized that it was probably because she knew me well enough to understand I would be worried about her slowing us down.

  Regardless of my feelings, I smiled at her and offered her my congratulations, then said, mostly as a jest, “Of course you’re going to name him Gnaeus, after his uncle.”

  Honestly, I had not said it with any real motive to please her, but the sudden smile and flush of happiness made me feel quite good about myself. And, before another mile passed under us, I had firmly established in my own mind that this would be the familial connection. Now that I have had time to think about it, I understand how much of an impact my trip to Arelate has had on me, and how, now that I have a true family that consists of more than just me and my mother, how vitally important they have become to me.

  “Gnaeus is a bit…bland, don’t you think?” Alex spoke up, then drew himself up and held one arm out in the manner in which our statues are made as he declared, “I am named for the greatest general who ever lived. Surely that’s a better name than Gnaeus.”

  “You better hope the Prefect isn’t looking down on us right now,” I countered. “You just said that that Greek was a better general than Divus Julius. In fact,” I looked up suddenly as I made a show of veering away from the other two, “I fully expect a lightning bolt to be heading your way. Algaia,” I reached out and pretended to draw her towards me, “I don’t want you getting hurt in your delicate condition. A man has to protect the mother of his nephew, after all.”

  She immediately jumped into the game, but while she steered her horse so that now Alex was isolated on the road, giving us a glare that was as much in jest as we were, she said sweetly, “You know, Gnaeus, it could be a girl, and I don’t think Gnaeus is a good name for a girl.”

  “A girl?” I gave a mock shudder. “What on Gaia’s Earth would I have to teach a girl?
”

  “How to avoid men like you,” Algaia said tartly, which Alex thought was quite funny, and I reminded him that he was living on borrowed time, because that lightning bolt was coming any moment.

  It was not until we stopped that first night that I paused to reflect on how the prospect of a new life and all that came with it did more to take our minds off of all that had happened in Arelate than anything else we could have done or said. As much as Gaius Pullus’ death solved, not just for me personally, but for the rest of the family, none of us were in a celebratory mood, and that first night we were forced to share a room, where I heard Algaia weeping in the darkness, and while I certainly never brought it up, I do believe that it had something to do with the death of the man who loved her, however twisted it may have been, enough to die for her. I will also confess that women are an utter mystery to me.

  On our return journey, we essentially reversed our route, except that instead of using Germanicus’ orders to secure spot on a barge going upstream on the Rhodanus and Dubis, we rode that part of the journey, then embarking on a downstream barge at Cambete, high up the Rhenus. It was uneventful, for the most part, except that when we departed Vienna the fourth day, we exited the inn to rain; heavy, cold, rain, and if I was worried about Algaia, it was a shade compared to how Alex felt. Which, we quickly learned, amused Algaia to no end.

  “A Breuci woman can have her child in the evening, and she will be there the next morning, right beside her man, ready to work in the fields. This rain?” She scoffed. “Is nothing.”

  “It sounds to me like you’re not working her hard enough, Alex,” I told him, and he made a show of nodding his agreement.

  “When we get back home, things are going to change,” he announced. “I’m going to find suitable work for her now that I know she hasn’t been pulling her weight.”

  “And if you do,” Algaia countered, with a smile that seemed sweet enough, “the chances of you having another child with me will be gone.”

  I burst out laughing at this, saying, “I think she has you there.”

  “Go piss on your boots,” he shot back. “Whose side are you on? I thought us men were supposed to stick together.”

  “Not when it comes to sex.” I shook my head. “Then it’s every man for himself.”

  That, unfortunately, was the last lighthearted moment, and while she never complained, Algaia was clearly miserable, even after Alex wrapped her in his fur-lined sagum that my father had purchased for him more than a decade earlier. Even Latobius, who was normally impervious to bad weather, began showing signs of both fatigue and ill temper, but thankfully, the roads in Gaul are much, much better, even when they are provincial roads and not part of the Imperial system, like the Via Aurelia. Augustus was now dead eighteen months, but one thing this journey did was open my eyes to all that Divus Augustus had done for Rome and its provinces, and it made me realize that all of the time I had spent on the other side of the Rhenus, where even the roads we used frequently were not much more than wide tracks that, when it rained like this, became ribbons of mud, and how much that had colored my expectations about Gaul. Still, it quickly became impossible to even talk because of the rain pounding on the waterproof surface of our cloaks, and when one is plodding along at a walk, it quickly becomes apparent how dependent you are on conversations to help pass the time. As bad as this was, it was about to get worse; once we began climbing up into the foothills that rain turned to snow, so that it took us an extra day to reach Genava. We ended up spending two days there before the weather cleared enough to continue, and there was a stretch where we seriously discussed turning around and going to Lugdunum to take the slower but safer upstream barge. Fortunately, the sun came out, and it warmed considerably, so we continued on our original route. Even with the delay, I had several days’ cushion, and I am certain that it was with this in mind that Alex broached the subject, although I am equally sure that Algaia put him up to it.

  “You know, you can stop in Mogontiacum for a couple of days.”

  He said this casually, about midway through the day before we reached Cambete, but I was not fooled in the slightest.

  “How long have you been working up to this?” I asked him, and he flushed slightly, but I suppose he felt compelled to protest, “Working up to what? I just thought that it might be a good idea for you to stop in Mogontiacum and let your mother know that you did your duty and returned your father home.”

  “And killed a few men in the process?” I laughed, but then another thought occurred to me, and I was not smiling when I asked him, “Why do you think I should talk to my mother, Alex?”

  “To put her mind at ease about your…situation,” he answered. “That you’re now Septimus’ heir, at least until he has children of his own.”

  For that was what Septimus had told me, just before we departed, but I honestly had thrust it from my mind, because it seemed somehow unseemly for me to even consider it. Obviously, Alex had not, and he, as he usually does, saw matters clearly.

  “You’re the oldest child of the third generation of the Prefect, Gnaeus. And,” he hesitated then, which caused me to look over at him curiously, “there’s something I didn’t tell you. I wanted to talk to Septimus first before I did, but he agreed that you should know.”

  “Go on,” I heard my tone, and as I knew, he recognized it as well, because he did not prevaricate.

  “You recall that Tiberius Dolabella was executed, and that your father had had…dealings with him.”

  “Yes, I know that,” I agreed, but my voice was still flat.

  “Before he was killed, your father had given him some information about the man who gulled Gaius out of all that money.” I did recall my father mentioning as much, and I nodded at him to continue. “And, Dolabella managed to get a message to your father, and in that message was the name, the real name of the man who cheated your family. More importantly, he found out where he lives, in Alexandria.”

  I frowned, not out of confusion as much as the fact that I recalled hearing mention of Alexandria, and to Alex’s credit, he instantly understood what was going through my mind.

  “If you’re thinking of Aviola,” Alex continued, “then you’re on the right track.”

  “But he said his father was involved in…” I began, but then, when things fell into place, I stared at him incredulously. “Are you trying to say what I think you are, that this Aviola was somehow involved?”

  “Oh,” Alex assured me, “he’s definitely involved. The question is, to what degree. The connection is that Aviola’s father is the man who cheated Gaius. What Septimus wasn’t able to find out was whether Aviola knows what his father is, or if he doesn’t and him moving to Arelate is just a coincidence. He was trying to find out, but then…other things happened.”

  That, I thought, is one way to put it, but my mind was reeling, because I was still not clear on the deeper meaning of this, and why I should talk to my mother.

  When I asked, Alex answered quietly, “Because if Septimus is able to recoup enough of the money to do so, he’s going to give you the four hundred thousand sesterces so that you can buy your way back into the Equestrian Order. And,” he added, “now that you have Germanicus as a patron, he’ll sponsor your elevation.”

  I was suddenly assaulted by a wave of dizziness that was so palpable that I literally had to grab the front of my saddle to keep from falling off Latobius.

  “Why…why would he do that?” I managed to murmur.

  “Who? Septimus or Germanicus?”

  “Let’s start with Septimus,” I barely recognized my voice.

  “Because, Gnaeus, you’re a Pullus. You’re Titus’ son. And because, in his own way, Septimus is as much a Pullus as any of you who’ve been under the standard. Your family was done a terrible injustice, and now that Augustus is dead, there’s no reason for you to pay anymore.”

  “But why me?” I asked. “Couldn’t Septimus do that for himself?”

  “With who as his spon
sor?” Alex countered. “He’s never met Germanicus. He’s never served in the Legions.”

  This, I instantly realized, was true as far as it went, but I still was having trouble making sense of things, so I pointed out the first of what I saw were the two glaring flaws in this idea.

  “You’re assuming an awful lot about Germanicus.” I shook my head. “Yes, I know he thought highly of my father, but that doesn’t mean that he’s going to be willing to make the effort to sponsor my elevation.”

  “He will,” Alex answered immediately, and with an assurance that I found puzzling, but when I glanced at him, he did not say anything more and was looking straight ahead, so my glance turned into a stare. Finally, he sighed. “All right, I’ll tell you why I know he will. Because,” he turned to look me in the eye as he finished, “your father asked him to in the event that we managed to meet the requirements, and he agreed. It was in the letter I gave the Propraetor the night you got back to Ubiorum from the Segestes raid.”

  Now it was my turn to look away and stare straight ahead, but I have no idea what I was looking at. Although a part of me was still in disbelief, at the same time, I also knew Alex would never tell me something that he knew to be untrue, especially about this, but this was what made me bring up the second obstacle, one that I still struggle with, in more ways than I can count.

  “But I’m…not…I’m,” I just could not bring myself to say either the polite term, or the term that is used almost as a term of endearment among men of the Legions, so all I could manage was to finish, “…you know what I’m talking about.”

  “I do,” Alex’s tone was somber, but he did not hesitate to tell me the truth, “and I won’t lie, that’s a concern, Gnaeus. Your beating of that cunnus Petronius helped, but only with the rankers and officers. And like I told you, no Tribune is going to go poking around the Praetorium about you, let alone a Prefect, but once it gets out that you’re being elevated, and who your sponsor is, I’m afraid there will be some things about your mother said that you’re going to have to learn to ignore. That,” he finished, “is why you need to visit your mother when we get to Mogontiacum.”