Casca 45: Emperor's Mercenary

by Tony Roberts

  “Knew I’d find you here,” Helga said softly, her features just visible under the hood. “Not having any luck, I see.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Thought some on what you said. Maybe you have a point. I can’t see myself lasting many more years there. This place is going nowhere; we’ve had too many changes in recent years and I’m making a break for it with you. Lecinius doesn’t yet know I’ve gone but once he does he’ll bust a gut. Thinks I’m his star attraction.”

  Casca grunted. “He’s not far wrong there. Alright, going out to sea is for shit; let’s go inland.”

  “So what about this tale of sailing the seas?”

  “Once I get a vessel that can take us yes, but its too soon. We need to get out of Arelate now. Sooner or later someone will come for either or both of us and we’ll be sunk. Come on, let’s go further down and grab a river boat.”

  She nodded. Now she had made her mind up to go, she had burned her bridges, so to speak. Whatever Casca was going to do now, she had to go along with him. He led her down the jetty to the smaller shallow-drafted boats. After a couple of rejections, one captain agreed to take the two on board upriver. Casca explained he was an out-of-work former soldier and Helga was his wife, a German tribeswoman he’d taken captive after a battle and married a few months later. It was not unknown for this kind of thing to happen, and the captain seemed to accept it.

  Casca and Helga were shown to a cramped space in the hold. “This isn’t a passenger ship, so there’s no privacy – at least to speak of, but I’ll have a curtain put up around you so you have some. Other than that I’ll ask you to help with the boat upriver until you get off. I don’t know how far its safe to sail but we’re due to go to Vienne, if we can get there. This blockade had really got us trapped and my wife will kill me when we return – we were due back a month ago and we were going to attend our son’s wedding. Pah, damned wars, they get right on my nerves.”

  Helga smiled. To be called a wife was something she liked; now she had left the tavern and her life as whore, all the pretence of accepting it was sloughing off, like an old snake’s skin. She hadn’t liked it in the slightest, but because she thought that was all her life was going to be, she had buried any hope of getting out. Now things were different and she badly wanted to have a ‘normal’ life.

  Casca sat with her after the curtain had been nailed up. The boat was empty; there were no goods to take up to Vienne. They had taken goods to Arelate and then were supposed to pick up some goods from Spain, but the war had put an end to that. Now they were going to get out as soon as the harbour authority let them. Pressure was already being mounted by the captains – the blockade had gone, so why be kept there anymore? Constantius had appointed a new official that morning and he was already being harangued from all directions.

  “What will we do now?” Helga asked, looked at him in hope.

  “Go upriver for a few days then look for a place for us to stay. I doubt this close to Arelate the tribes will be active. I don’t want to risk going too far as influence from Arelate will weaken the further north we go. No, just a day or two, then we get off. We’ll find somewhere to stay. A farm maybe, or some abandoned building.”

  “But what to eat? How will we survive? Casca, we need to plan better.”

  “I can hunt, trap, and I know plenty of food we can pick from the land. I’ve been around a fair bit, and I’m willing to bet the land had been left to rot in a lot of places. You know any field skills?”

  “I vaguely recall things my parents taught me while we were on the move, how to forage, how to skin an animal and make clothing.”

  “Then that’s what we’ll do. We’ll lie low for a month or two, then look to get a boat from Arelate out to sea. The sooner we go from here the better.”

  She nodded. It was better than being imprisoned in a tavern servicing dirty smelly ugly men who just wanted carnal satisfaction. “Just promise me one thing, please. Don’t treat me like a whore. I’ve turned my back on that life now, and I haven’t merely swapped one client for another.”

  Casca nodded. “You’ll be treated like a woman, not an object. We’ll help one another, stay together as long as we’re both happy with that, until the time comes for us to go our separate ways. Don’t get too attached to me, Helga, I’m not going to stay in any one place for very long. I have this – compulsion – to do that.” He very nearly said ‘curse’, but decided it was best not to.

  “I’ll bear that in mind,” she said. She tossed her head, sweeping her hair round to her left shoulder. “So how about showing me? I’ve longed to be given proper love, not sex for payment.”

  Casca looked at her for a moment, then stood up, unclipping his belt. “Helga, I think you and I are going to get along wonderfully.”

  She smiled, and watched as he divested himself, her eyes growing wider as the number of scars on his body were revealed. “Oh, you...” she sucked in her breath. “How are you still alive?”

  “I wonder myself sometimes, but I’ve a charmed life.” He sat down and took her in his arms, and began to kiss her, gently, lovingly.

  She murmured in appreciation and her arms came up. This was going to be different, she knew, and it was a little scary for her. But she had asked for it and now it was a matter of pride for her not to back out. Besides, she desperately wanted to know how good it was with both wanting it for no other reason than mutual pleasure.

  And it was very, very good.

  ____

  They were dropped off the following day on the left bank and waved farewell to the boat’s crew. They had been allowed out by the harassed harbour officials to prevent a riot, and everyone was relieved. Casca left behind a furious Constantius and inner circle of advisors and confidants. The map was one of the must-get conditions of him investing the city, the emperor had been most insistent. The treasures it had marked on it were invaluable.

  Constantius’ chief military aide had informed him that the men sent to deal with the two men hired to take the map had been killed in St. Pauls church. None were alive. Constantine on his surrender had been interviewed by Constantius and had assured him that the map had been in his bedroom, whereupon the news that someone had been there and stolen it after killing a few guards had convinced Constantius that Casca and Flavius had indeed done their assigned task, but then had double-crossed him and the emperor by turning on the squad sent to take the map from them. The fact Constantius was double-crossing the two men never occurred to him; they were lowly soldiers and therefore didn’t count. He issued a city-wide edict that the two were fugitives, traitors, pagans, devil-worshippers, murderers and every other kind of ‘sin’ he could think of. People found to be harboring them would be arrested and executed. Any information given would be rewarded by the new regime.

  So it was three days later that an apprehensive Lecinius was shown into the private rooms of Constantius. His chief advisor appraised the magister militum that this was an innkeeper who had a few prostitutes under his care and had information on the whereabouts of the traitor Rufio Longus.

  “Speak,” the advisor said to a trembling Lecinius.

  “Sire, I believe one man you are seeking was in my tavern a few days ago. The one with the scar. He left his armor under a bed in my establishment, then my best girl ran off with him!”

  “He took your best girl?” Constantius queried, leaning forward.

  “Yes, sire. A German girl called Helga. Long legs, blonde-haired. Always the one the clients asked for.”

  “What of the scarred man? Did you speak to him? What did he say?”

  Lecinius recalled the conversation on the stairs. “He came hammering on the door that evening and I let him in. He paid well. The next morning he went and shortly afterwards Helga left too and has not returned.”

  “So how do you know they went together?” the advisor snapped.

  “I asked around and eventually someone told me they had been seen on the river front asking for a boat upriver
. They left three days ago.”

  “By Jesus’ sweet blood!” Constantius shouted, getting to his feet. “Just the one man? Not two men?”

  “N-no, s-sire,” the innkeeper trembled, fearing for his life.

  “May the Lord damn them! They have separated. Get Hanabalus,” the new ruler of Arelate ordered. “I want a cohort ready to leave in an hour. As for him,” he pointed at Lecinius, “pay him off and send him on his way.”

  Lecinius took the money and fled, relieved to still have his head, while inside the governor’s residence Constantius raged and threatened, summoning his trusted general Hanabalus to his side. He made it clear that the fugitive known as Rufio Longus was to be taken alive and brought back to him. The girl was unimportant. What the cohort wanted to do with her was up to them.

  Hanabalus saluted and left, the urgency of the mission giving him an extra burst of speed. He would take four hundred men and sweep north. If it took them until the winter to find him, they would remain in the field that long.

  Casca and Helga meanwhile had found a farm, abandoned, some miles from the river. It was on the plains just short of a sharp rise of white stone cliffs, and Casca knew that they quarried the hills for the stone found to make buildings the region over. The farm itself was a modest one, being of four buildings. No animals or people were there, and the two spent the first few days searching and finding out what was where.

  A well was uncovered, overgrown, and the bucket repaired. Fresh, cool water came up and that was a start. It looked like there had been wheat grown in the fields and they found a grindstone in the courtyard, which also revealed a pig sty once the undergrowth had been wrenched away and burned.

  The house was in reasonable repair; a few loose tiles were straightened and a door restored. Soon enough it was beginning to look homely. Helga was overjoyed and spent a fair amount of time showing Casca how pleased she was, which he didn’t mind at all.

  Fencing was rotten and in poor condition, so the nearest ones to the buildings were repaired. Pens were put up and Casca suggested they try to find animals to put in them. Fortunately there were enough fruits and harvestable berries and vegetables for them to survive on. Plenty of old wood was discovered in one of the other buildings and this provided fuel for a fire. Pots, pans and plates were found in the kitchen, scrubbed and cleaned and in short time fit for use.

  They had been there a week and a day and lay together in the repaired bed, listening to the rain falling on the roof. Helga looked at her new lover. “You know, Casca, you’ve shown me a life I never thought was possible. I can’t thank you enough.”

  He pulled her against him and held her close. “You needed to know what kind of life you could have away from that place. If you want to go back to that kind of life, that’s up to you.”

  “No thank you. But I want to know what is going to become of us? I’ve only known you a few days yet I can’t think of a life without you.”

  He sighed. “Helga, I’ve told you I’m not the settling down type. I’m on the run from the empire, and they’ll come looking for me. I need to get away somewhere quiet and remote and let things blow over. Here, it’s too close to Arelate and the imperial reach.”

  “I’ll come with you. You make me feel wanted, loved. Don’t argue,” she prodded his chest. “You’ll learn I’m a forceful woman when I need to be.”

  “Not a bad thing,” Casca said. “I’ve warned you, but if you want to come with me, I won’t object. You’re great company, and I think you’re someone I’ve needed to be with for quite some time.” He thought back to the last woman he’d loved and been with, Anobia. That had been some time ago. Since then he’d been on the run from the Persians, hunted by the devout Christian imperial order, sent to the gladiatorial arenas, captured by Goths, set free and released in southern Gaul. No time to get down to any kind of serious relationship. This was the first time he’d had the time to gather his breath and strength since his arrest by Shapur, king of kings.

  “Good, I’m glad you realise that!”

  He squeezed her. There was something about Germanic women that appealed to him. Maybe it was their free spirit, or straightforward manner. Whatever, Helga reminded him a little of Lida. Another flash of Helsfjord crossed his mind. It was pulling him. Would it still be there? How long was it now since he’d been there? A hundred and sixty years? Would anyone remember him? He doubted it. Yet, it was there in his mind.

  “You thinking again,” Helga said. “You do that a lot.”

  “Mmm. Memories. Some good, some bad. Nothing to worry about, though. We will need to move on fairly soon, I feel it in my bones.” He was unsettled; the dying Roman world was partly responsible, but now he had the worry of being caught by Constantius’ men. He had something that the empire wanted and he wasn’t going to be allowed to surrender it. They wanted him and Flavius silenced for good.

  The trouble was that even though Rome was fading, it still had a long reach. He was the emperor’s mercenary and had been contracted to do a job and Honorius had reneged on it. No matter his paymaster wanted to kill him as payment, to Casca a contract was a contract. The emperor should have paid him and the map would have been handed over without trouble. Double-cross had led to the contract being null and void in his mind.

  That really riled him. So now he had to run and keep ahead of the hunt. He listened to the rain, and became aware of other sounds. He slid out of bed and peered through a slit in the wooden shutters. The night was very dark due to the rain, but he could see torchlight and men moving about. Armor was worn. Military men.

  Shit.

  “Get dressed. They’re here.” He pulled on his clothes, slipping the map underneath against his chest. His sword he held in his hand and eyed the exterior once more. A squad of men had turned up and were discussing the farm. There were no lights so it appeared deserted, but clearly the squad leader was of the mind everything had to be checked, as it should be.

  Helga was quickly ready. She hurriedly packed her belongings and slipped her pack over her back. “Where will we go?” she asked softly.

  “To the river. We’ll slip back down river. The search has got this far, so if we double back it may fool them long enough to give us a head start. Then we get a ship out.”

  Helga nodded. It was as good a plan as any. They made their way down, feeling their way, stepping carefully on the open ladder-style stairway, and moved towards the rear door that opened to the courtyard. Casca lifted the latch gently and opened the door a crack. Two soldiers were sweeping through, peering into every nook and cranny. He left the door slightly ajar and waved Helga to retreat deeper into the kitchen.

  The soldiers reached the door and saw it was slightly open. They relaxed. The place was abandoned. The rain pattered down, masking much of the noises, and so they didn’t hear Casca step to one side as the door swing open. The first soldier stopped in shock at the sight of the muscled man standing before him, sword already being drawn back.

  The steel plunged deep into the soldier’s gut. Casca was already pushing the man aside, thrusting his frame through the doorway at the second. His sword came up under the upraised edge of the soldier’s sword, raised in haste, and cut through the man’s throat. The man fell like a stone, his sword clanging on the stone surface of the courtyard.

  Grabbing Helga by the wrist, Casca made his way through the courtyard and towards the gap in between the barn and the sheds. Another soldier was here, holding a torch, and Casca released Helga and bore down on him from behind his left shoulder. The man suddenly got an inkling of danger and turned. Casca’s sword thrust took him through the stomach and exploded out of his back.

  One twist, a tug and the man was lying twitching on the mud track. Casca gestured to Helga to follow. East was where they had to go now, and that was beyond the dying soldier. There was a stone wall on the far side of the track and he scaled it. Helping Helga over, he led her across a field, overgrown and neglected. Weeds grew in profusion and clumps of vegetation meant they
had to swerve round them. They were soon swallowed up by the night, but the alarm went up soon enough and the survivors of the squad congregated in the courtyard, enraged at the deaths of three of their comrades.

  The squad leader had a task settling his men down, and they were concerned about being the next to be butchered. Eventually they went through the buildings and found them empty. The rain made things difficult and it wasn’t until daybreak that they could see properly, and then they made their way in one group to the century’s field tent and reported.

  By this time Casca and Helga were at the river, soaked, but free from pursuit. They turned down river and followed the Rhodanus towards Arelate, not knowing whether they were heading into a trap or avoiding one.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Constantius was furious. He now had a big problem. What to do in order to avoid Honorius’ displeasure and certain execution? He decided to pass the blame onto someone else’s shoulders in the time-honored manner.

  The scapegoat was of course Constantine. Even though an assurance had been given to the failed usurper that he would be granted his life and would be sent to Ravenna, Constantius had no choice but to use Court political intrigue.

  He had a final conversation with Constantine. The prisoner assured Constantius that the map had been in his possession and had been put together by his praefect. The praefect had been murdered to stop him from divulging the location of any of the treasures to anyone, and Constantine himself had only glanced at it, having been too busy trying to secure his position in southern Gaul. Britannia had been a place too far for him to consider at the time, and he would only return to the map once he had become legal emperor. Now that was over, he had no chance of going back.

  Satisfied Constantine knew no more, Constantius sent him on his way, with secret orders to his military commander to remove the man once he was clear of Arelate. With Constantine dead, Constantius would then send a letter to Honorius telling him the deposed rebel had destroyed the map and that the two mercenaries had been disposed of.