Roman

by Kevin Ashman

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  Cassus sensed someone closing in from behind. The scent in the air changed slightly and the hair on his neck rose as he felt the body of Marianna, the cook’s daughter, press gently against his back. She opened the blanket she had wrapped around her, and folded it around the front of Cassus, enclosing them both in a cocoon of soft wool. Her naked skin was warm against his cold back. Marianna ducked her head under Cassus’s arm and he held her close to his side continuing his gaze towards the horizon.

  ‘It’s a beautiful dawn,’ she said quietly.

  ‘It is,’ he responded.

  ‘When will you see it next?’

  ‘Perhaps never.’

  ‘Don’t say that, Cassus,’ she said, ‘You can’t think like that. You have to return, I will be waiting for you.’

  Cassus smiled.

  ‘Twenty five years is a long time for a woman with your, shall we say, special needs. I can’t see you lasting that long. Can you?’

  ‘Stop it,’ she said, nudging him in his side. ‘You make me sound like an animal.’

  ‘You were certainly an animal last night, as I recall,’ he said, wincing at the scratches down his back.

  ‘That was the wine,’ she said defensively. ‘Anyway, I don’t hear you complaining.’

  Cassus felt her hand sliding slowly downward from his chest.

  ‘Come back to the fire,’ she whispered softly, looking up at him with nut-brown eyes, ’One more time, I promise I will be gentle.’ Marianna’s hands teased his tired body into the reaction she sought. He turned and pushed her long hair back over her shoulders before kissing her deeply.

  ‘Okay, Marianna,’ he said, ‘Once more but this time,’ He threw off the blanket and picked up her slim body in his muscular arms, ‘I’m in charge.’ He carried her back to the embers of the fire, their young, naked bodies warming in the rising Mediterranean sun.

  Chapter 3

  Cassus walked out onto the veranda with his father, Gaius Pelonius Maecilius. The labour of the estate gathered in front of the villa to see the two young men set off to meet their destiny. Two horses, each with side panniers packed with food and wine for the journey, were tied to a rail, waiting to transport them on their journey.

  Gaius Pelonius stepped forward and the crowd fell silent. Pelonius was getting old, and his voice was not as strong as it used to be, but despite this, he cleared his throat and spoke clearly.

  ‘As you are aware, this day my son goes forth to seek his fortune in the service of Rome. We weep no tears for the fate awaits him for if he falls, then it is in the service of our Emperor and no Roman can ask for more. No, this is a time for celebration, and in recognition of this momentous day, I wish to make a gift to someone very special. As you know, Prefect Karim has been with me for twenty years. Many years ago I gave him his freedom but he chose to stay on the farm. He is not only the prefect but also my confidante and close friend. He has made it clear that he will not leave this farm until such time as he has paid homage at my funeral or has died waiting. Well, friend,’ he looked over at the sombre faced man, ‘I am getting tired and I feel you will not have to wait much longer.’

  ‘You will live forever, Gaius Pelonius,’ answered Karim in his deep baritone voice.

  ‘We shall see,’ answered Pelonius, ‘But before I go to meet my gods, there is something I want to do for you. These past twenty years I have witnessed our sons grow up together in a friendship that has made fools of those impostors’ race and status. Even today they set forth on this adventure as one, yet society demands that this is where their mutual journey ends. As a freeman, Prydain cannot join Cassus in the legions of Claudius, and, though the auxiliaries are no less important, it breaks my heart to see these two seek different roads.’

  Karim’s eyes narrowed, realising where this was leading. Pelonius reached back and was given a scroll by his wife.

  ‘Karim, my friend,’ he announced, ‘I have in my hand a document that I hope will demonstrate my appreciation and respect for you and your family.’

  The crowd fell silent as he unfurled the scroll.

  ‘On the first day of the year, as required by the statute of Rome, I registered the occupants of this household in the magistrate’s offices in Asculum. On this register I recorded the names of all my family as is our due as Roman citizens. However, on this occasion, I also took the opportunity to include the name of Prydain Maecilius. As you know, under Roman law, anybody named in the census who are not already citizens, become so with immediate effect. This scroll, delivered only this morning, is confirmation that the registration has been accepted. Karim, today in front of my family and friends, in the name of the Emperor, I greet Prydain, your son, as a Roman citizen.’

  After a moment’s pause the gathering broke out in applause. It was not often that a slave became a citizen in Rome. Pelonius held up his arms to regain the silence.

  ‘Prydain,’ he continued, ‘As a Roman citizen, you are no longer limited to the auxiliaries. You can join Cassus in the legions of Claudius but of course, as a citizen of Rome, that choice is yours and yours alone.’

  Prydain looked dumbstruck. Though already a freedman, the status was still quite low in the eyes of most Romans. However, as a citizen, his whole world would take on a different perspective. He was free to walk the streets of Rome, to serve in her armies, or even marry a Roman woman. He could stand alongside any man in any street and talk to him as an equal, open a business in one of Rome’s many marketplaces, or even use the public baths around the city without fear of segregation.

  Karim looked pleased but not surprised. Privately Pelonius had already offered him and his son citizenship but Karim had always turned down the offer. The vast difference in the colour of his skin compared to his adopted son would invite too many questions and probably cause the application to fail. Realising this, Pelonius had taken the arbitrary step of applying in Prydain’s name only, knowing that the same doubts were not shared by the young man, and, though he was unsure how Karim would react, he needn’t have worried. The pride on Karim’s face spoke volumes.

  ‘I don’t know what to say, lord,’ stuttered Prydain, ‘It is truly a great gift.’

  ‘The gift is your father’s, the freedom is yours. Use it well, Prydain,’ he said and turned to face Karim.

  Their eyes locked together for a moment before Karim nodded. It wasn’t much but Pelonius knew it meant everything. He turned back to the crowd.

  ‘Enough!’ he shouted and turned to face Cassus. ‘Travel well, son,’ he said grasping Cassus’s arm. ‘Train hard for your Emperor, fight well for your fellow soldiers and if you should fall, then die well for your name.’

  Cassus knew that he would probably never see his father again. The private goodbyes had been said the night before and his father had given him a purse of coins for the journey as well as promissory notes for transport and supplies. This display was for the benefit of the staff.

  ‘My blade will send a legion of slaves to prepare for your afterlife,’ he said, and, though it was never good to display too much affection in front of others, Pelonius pulled his son to him, hugging him tightly.

  ‘Be careful,’ he whispered.

  ‘I will be fine, father,’ he answered.

  Prydain sat astride his horse, waiting patiently to start the great adventure. Cassus strode down to join him and vaulting onto his horses back, turned to face Prydain.

  ‘Don’t think that this makes you my equal,’ he said under his breath, ‘You were born a slave while I am a freeborn Roman. Never forget that. Anyway, my misguided father has wasted his gift for there is no need for citizenship in the auxiliaries.’

  ‘Auxiliaries?’ said Prydain, ‘You heard your father, I am now a citizen of Rome and can join her legions if I so wish.’ He paused and stared into Cassus’s eyes, ‘And that, Cassus, is exactly what I intend to do.’

  ‘Cassus,’ glared at him.

  ‘We shall see,’ he said and span his horse to face his father.
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  ‘Hail Gaius Pelonius,’ he shouted, ‘May the gods grant you immortality,’ and kicked his heels in to his horse’s flanks to send it galloping down the hillside.

  Prydain spun his own horse around and stopped beside the man who had looked after him all his life. Karim grabbed the horse’s reins.

  ‘I too have a gift,’ said Karim, ‘It is from your mother.’

  ‘My mother?’ queried Prydain, ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Just before she died she gave me something,’ said Karim, ‘I have kept it safe all these years but it belongs to you.’ He hung the leather thong and amulet around Prydain’s neck.

  ‘What does it mean?’ asked Prydain, struggling to control his horse as it fidgeted.

  ‘I don’t know, but it seemed very important to her. With the god’s will it will protect you. If nothing else, look at it often and think of home.’

  ‘I will, father,’ came the response and they grasped each other’s wrists in a final farewell. ‘You will be in my thoughts always.’

  ‘And you mine, son,’ said Karim.

  Prydain’s horse was straining to be gone and he turned one more time.

  ‘Hail, Gaius Pelonius,’ he shouted, ‘Provider of freedom, may you live forever.’

  Pelonius smiled and watched as the horse finally tore itself free from Karim’s grasp to gallop down the track in the wake of Cassus.

  The crowd finished their cheering at the departure and returned to their duties. Eventually only Pelonius was left on the veranda. Karim joined him.

  ‘Were we ever so impetuous, Karim?’ asked the old soldier.

  ‘Their veins are full of adventure and glory,’ said the Numidian. ‘Let them enjoy it while they can. They will return to the realms of reality soon enough.’

  ‘That they will,’ said Pelonius. ‘Will you drink to their future with me?’ He indicated a jug of wine on the table.

  ‘I will be honoured,’ answered the ex gladiator and both men sat on the veranda long into the evening, reliving old battles. In truth, there was just a little envy embroidered within the conversations.

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  Prydain and Cassus travelled westward for several days until they reached the Tiber river. They turned south and followed its banks to the outskirts the city and realised they were nearing Rome long before they could see any of her famous architecture. At first Prydain thought it was just clouds on the horizon but as they neared, it became obvious that it was smoke from the countless cooking fires, hanging in the air above the sprawling city.

  Prydain had never been anywhere near the eternal city and had only heard of her splendour through the gossip in the taverns of Asculum and the tales of the slaves on the farm. Strangely enough his father, who had spent many years within those great city walls, rarely spoke of his time there. The landscape before them both was far from what they had expected. On the outer limits of the city, extravagant villas dotted the hills, nestling within groves of fruit trees. Nobles spent most of their summers relaxing in their villas, avoiding the oppressive heat and dirt generated by the millions of commoners within the city walls. The villas were impressive but as they approached the city walls, the more squalid the habitation became.

  The two friends stopped outside the roadside inn that bore a name given to them by Pelonius and Cassus approached the half door, banging on the frame.

  ‘Ave’ he called, ‘I seek the one called Marcus.’

  A middle-aged man approached the doorway out of the inner gloom.

  ‘Who seeks him?’ he asked, eyeing the two strangers suspiciously.

  ‘My name is Cassus and I am the son of Gaius Pelonius Maecilius. I am looking for Marcus. I believe he served with him in the ninth.’

  ‘Can you prove who you are?’ asked the man, eying them suspiciously.

  ‘I can, but my words are for Marcus only.’

  The man hesitated and looked around.

  ‘OK,’ he said, ‘I may be Marcus, but depending on your business, I might not be.’

  Cassus smiled. His father had said he would be cagey.

  ‘If you are Marcus,’ he said, ‘You will know the meaning of this message. My father said to tell you, that the tale of you and the red haired Spaniard remains a secret, though he aches to tell the world.’

  The man blushed furiously and examined the area around his inn in great detail.

  ‘Quiet!’ he hissed, ‘What do you know of this thing?’

  ‘Nothing,’ laughed Cassus, ‘Though I would dearly love to know what secret causes you so much embarrassment.’

  ‘It is not for your ears or anyone else’s for that matter. Okay, so I am Marcus and I believe you are indeed Pelonius’s son. Only that old rogue knows my shame. What does he want? If it is the return of the piebald mare he loaned me, tell him it died soon after and I dispute his claim.’

  ‘Not the mare,’ said Cassus, enjoying this man’s obvious discomfort.

  ‘Is it the money?’ Marcus continued, ‘Because if it is, I know I am a few months late but…’

  ‘Marcus!’ interrupted Cassus, ‘Relax, I am not here to seek redress of any debt. We need a room for the night and my father said you would accommodate us.’

  The relief on the innkeepers face was evident.

  ‘Oh, ‘he said, ‘Why didn’t you say? Come in, I will get the boy to stable the horses.’ With a clap of his hand a boy of approximately eight years appeared from nowhere and took the reins, leading the horses around the back.

  ‘Come in,’ repeated Marcus and unbolted the lower half of the door, standing aside to allow them to enter. They walked into an auditorium leading back to the rear of the house with niches built into the walls for guests to sleep. The floor was decorated with an enormous mosaic of coloured stones and marble shards. With a bit of imagination, Cassus realised that it was a poor representation of a naked woman. Marcus saw Cassus’s gaze.

  ‘What do you think?’ he asked proudly, ‘I designed her myself. Cost me a fortune.’

  ‘Nice,’ lied Cassus and followed the old man to a nearby table where they all sat down.

  ‘Water?’ asked Marcus, pulling three wooden tankards and a pitcher from a nearby shelf.

  ‘Do you not have wine?’ asked Cassus.

  ‘I do, but that is expensive and I am a poor man. These are hard times you understand.’

  ‘Marcus,’ laughed Cassus, ‘My father has told me much about you. He warned that it would be easier to get blood from a stone than to expect you to part with anything for free. He also said that you were one of the richest men in the region,’ he looked around the auditorium, ‘Though by the state of this place I am beginning to doubt his words.’

  Marcus ignored the taunt and poured three mugs of tepid water.

  ‘How can I help,' he asked.’

  ‘We are on our way to join the army,’ said Prydain, ‘But we do not enlist for two days yet. We need someone to stable our horses until they can be picked up and we thought we could stay here tonight before travelling into the city tomorrow.’

  Marcus nodded slowly,

  ‘That can be arranged, ‘he said, ‘The alcoves are two asses a day or I have clean rooms available for a Denarii each’

  ‘A Denarii for a room?’ coughed Cassus, ‘No wonder you are so rich. Perhaps I should inform the authorities about your unpaid debts?’

  ‘Both you and I know that will not happen,’ said Marcus. ‘If I know Pelonius, his son would have been brought up better than that.’

  ‘You are right,’ admitted Cassus, ‘I will not betray you but it was worth a try. I tell you what, you give us a room and good food tonight and my father will call it quits on the Piebald.’

  Marcus did some quick calculations in his mind.

  ‘And you will sign something to prove this?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ sighed Cassus, ‘Whatever you want.’

  Marcus smiled. The horse had been worth ten times that amount.

  ‘Then you have a deal,’ he said quickly. ‘Fol
low me and I will take you to your room.’

  He left his seat and walked upstairs, showing the two young men to a clean room with two freshly made up beds. They unpacked their travel bags onto a table and Marcus returned with an amphora of wine and a further three mugs.

  ‘Well, how is the old rogue?’ he asked, sitting on the edge of one of the cots.

  ‘My father is fine,’ said Cassus, ‘Though he tires easily these days.’

  ‘It comes to us all,’ said Marcus. ‘All those years of toil in service catches up with you.’

  ‘Did you know him long?’ asked Cassus.

  ‘I spent ten years in the same cohort as him,’ said Marcus, ‘Until I got this.’ He uncovered the stump of a severed arm from beneath his clothing, the burn scars of the battlefield cauterisation still evident. ‘We saw some scrapes together I can tell you.’

  ‘I bet you can.’

  After a brief silence, Marcus continued.

  ‘So, who are you joining?’

  ‘The ninth,’ said Cassus, taking the offered mug of wine.

  ‘Recruiting again are they?’ asked Marcus, ‘Good choice and your father’s name might even help you out a bit.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘His name is well known in the Ninth. Even now, twenty years since he left, Centurion Maecilius is a name that is admired throughout the cohorts.’

  ‘Centurion?’ gasped Cassus, ‘My father was a Centurion?’

  ‘Not only was he a Centurion,’ he said, ‘But he was Primus Pilus. Didn’t you know?’

  ‘My father didn’t talk much about his time in the legions,’ said Cassus.

  ‘No, perhaps he didn’t,’ said Marcus. ‘By the end of our time I think we were all glad to see the back of it.’

  ‘What is Primus Pilus?’ asked Prydain from his own cot.

  ‘Only the most senior Centurion in the legion,’ sneered Marcus. He turned to Marcus, ‘He is a freedman,’ he explained ‘And doesn’t know about such things.’

  Marcus turned to Prydain.

  ‘The Primus Pilus was in charge of the first Century and overall commander of the entire cohort during any battle,’ he explained, ‘You don’t get that high without being something special. If he had stayed on after his twenty-five years he would have been given the position of Praefectus Castrorum, camp prefect. Third in command of the entire legion but like the rest of us, he just wanted to get his pension and go home. Anyway, enough about us oldies, what do you young bloods intend to do while you are in Rome?’