by R. W. Peake
"Go find Asinius and see what he wants you to do." I pointed over his shoulder, back in the direction of the far end of the town and the glowing sky. "That's not getting any better."
I turned to go, but he shook his head and said, "No. I'm going with you."
While I was willing to expose myself to what was likely to be an outcome that would end badly, I could not allow Lutatius to do the same, and I was adamant about it.
"You're not coming with me, and if you do, I'm going to punch you in the face," I told him, but while I did not say this with any pleasure, I was also serious.
Apparently, he believed me, because he grimaced, then shook his head.
"Suit yourself," he muttered. "Go throw your fucking life away."
Turning abruptly, he walked away and I felt a pang of regret, so I called to him.
"Thank you, Lutatius," I told him. "I appreciate it, but I don't want you to get in trouble because I'm…" I stopped, trying to think of the proper word.
"Stupid," he supplied for me, but while his back was to the major source of light, I managed to see a grin on his face.
"Stupid," I agreed, laughing, then turned around and went looking for Caecina.
It must have been at roughly the same time that, aided by the factors I have already mentioned, a force consisting of more than four thousand Varciani and, as we would learn, about seven hundred Colapiani were descending the slope above the western wall. Of course, the intimate familiarity with this area that enabled them to use every fold, thicket, and depression for cover did not hurt their chances either. Only later did we learn that, in fact, they had ascended the opposite side of the slope and crested the hill overlooking the town while it was still daylight. But in an act of discipline that, frankly, the tribes of Pannonia are not known for, instead of hurtling down the hill, screaming their war cries, and assaulting the walls and dying, they forced themselves to watch as we sacked the town. Even now as I write this, being at least older if not wiser, I find it hard to imagine how difficult it had to be for those Varciani warriors for whom this town was their home, where their families were being rounded up in front of their eyes, yet still not immediately act. But as we also learned, it was less about the discipline of the Varciani than the respect they held for a man who was with them yet was not their chief, nor even of their tribe. Nonetheless, such was the power of his character and force of his personality that when Draxo proposed waiting until nightfall before the Varciani made their attempt to rescue their families and drive us out of the town, they listened. It was not just their familiarity and stealth, although if the few prisoners who survived were to be believed, every man of the warband rose no higher than their hands and knees as they made their way down the hill; we helped their cause as well, albeit unwittingly. First, there was the smoke from the steadily growing fire; by the time enough men had been assembled and scrounged up the proper tools, the houses on both sides of that street were fully aflame, and, as I said, the smoke created by the flames seemed content to hover just a few feet above the rooftops, drifting slowly south. Since the fire started in the far northwest corner of the town, when the smoke drifted south, it blanketed the wall and the lower slope of the hill. Finally, while no ranker of the Tenth was charged, there was a persistent rumor that, along with only having half of the men standing watch, those men who were on the wall at that time had been slipped canteens full of more potent refreshment by sympathetic comrades. Nothing ever came of this, but neither did those whispers go away. Whatever the truth, the result was that the first indication of trouble was when, with a roar, the Varciani warband we had been warned about but were still unaware of its whereabouts suddenly materialized from the line of trees on the western slope. The amount of time our men on the wall had to prepare was the interval it took for warriors running downhill to cover the hundred paces of cleared space on the slope, the two hundred paces to the wall, and however long it took for them to throw the ladders they carried against the wall. In other words, just long enough for our men on the wall to shout the alarm, and the cornicen of the Tenth Cohort to sound the call to arms.
That call came at an inopportune moment for me. I had continued down the street Metellus had indicated, but at the end of the first block, like so many of the streets, it ended with a road running perpendicular to it, giving me two choices. Glancing to my right, I could see the darker wall looming above the line of buildings but since it was so close, I chose to go left, away from it. From there, I cannot honestly say what guided me, and I quickly lost track of how many turns I had made and in which direction. All I knew was that I was somewhere in the southwest quarter of the town, but what somewhat unsettled me was the number of men wandering, or staggering, the streets. Those I ran into were from the Sixth and Ninth Cohorts, but most were either too inebriated or too absorbed in arguing over some piece of loot to be of any help. That, unfortunately, was not the worst of it; on two occasions, I ran into men – first a group of four, followed by a pair who were essentially doing the same thing for which I was hunting Caecina. Dragging a kicking, screaming girl, the first group glared at me as they passed, viewing me as a threat to take their spoils, I supposed, but the only comfort I took was that in the brief glimpse I got of the girl; she was clearly older, probably fourteen or fifteen. Which, I understood, meant she was not necessarily a maiden and could easily have been some man's wife. The pair were holding the girl by both arms as she screamed and struggled. Accordingly, her legs were suspended off the ground, but they were still churning as if she was flying along the ground, which I understood was her most fervent wish. If this girl was older than the one I was trying to save, it was only by a year, or at most, two, yet I made no attempt to stop these men. At that moment, I convinced myself that since they were moving in the opposite direction, they were bringing their new captive to the common area to be put with the other prisoners. This might be true, although now I doubt it, and the fact is she looked nothing like Miriam.
Nevertheless, I pressed on, making one more turn as I continued my search, until finally, I was about to give up; in fact, I had given up and turned around, but had gone only a couple of steps when I heard a man laugh. Now, I must emphasize that, by this point in the night, enough wine and mead had been consumed to the point there was much gaiety and mirth throughout the town, meaning that hearing someone laugh was of no real significance. Except this laugh was distinctive, and one with which, much to my disgust, I was intimately familiar. To be fair, it was more of a snorting sound, closer to the sound a pig makes than a laugh, but the instant I heard it I knew only one man in the Legion laughed that way; Mela. Instantly I froze, listening, then heard it again, prompting me to move quickly in the direction from which it came. Even so, I almost missed them altogether; they had shut the door of the house they had chosen but it was ill fitting, allowing the light from the lamp they lit to shine in a thin line along the bottom of the door. The house was on a corner, and thankfully there were enough other men still out and about, talking loudly and shouting at one another, so I did not have to worry about being quiet when I stepped up to the door. Putting my ear against the wood, I heard a number of things simultaneously.
"Caecina, if looks could kill," Mela was saying, and he laughed again, while at the same instant, I heard a sound that sounded like a gasp and sob at the same time.
"She'll be singing a different song right quick," Caecina said, although if he said anything more I do not know, because I leaned back and kicked the door open, the wood around the flimsy lock splintering as it burst inward, but I was already moving into the room with my sword drawn.
That was the moment when the cornicen of the Tenth sounded the call, telling us we were under attack.
Because of my kicking in the door, all three men had spun about and were facing in my direction. Mela and Geta were closest to me, but since they had already shed their harnesses, both of their swords were lying at their feet. The pair bent down in a frantic attempt to retrieve them, except I had alread
y begun moving towards them and they had no chance. More accurately, I did not actually make the two steps towards them; the instant the cornu sounded, we all froze. Nevertheless, I still had the advantage because my sword was already out, although frankly, I forgot I was holding it. Burned into my mind even now is the scene before me; both Geta and Mela were still bent over, yet while their look of shocked surprise, along with a satisfying level of fear was still there, their eyes were focused not on me but in the general direction of where the call had come from outside the house. Meanwhile, Caecina was similarly like a statue, although he was in an even more ludicrous posture because he had shed his harness and his segmentata, while his bracae were down around his ankles, his hard prick jutting out from underneath his tunic, which he had pulled above his waist. He was staring in my direction as well, but along with the surprise, his rage was easy to read, even in the poor light of the single lamp on the table behind him. Honestly, I only noticed the three men in terms of whether they posed an immediate threat; once I saw they were not, only then did my eyes move to the pallet on the floor where the girl was lying. Her shift had been pulled up, exposing her lower body, but her legs were pressed tightly together and I saw no blood on the pallet or on her, sending a flood of relief through me. My first thought was wondering why she was not taking the opportunity to leap to her feet, but then I saw her hands tied above her head, the end of the thong lashed around one of the vertical pillars that supported the roof of the building. What made this odd scene even stranger was that, aside from the cornu call, the sounds made by the girl and our breathing, inside the room, it was completely silent for the first ten heartbeats or so.
"What," Caecina's voice finally broke the spell, "the fuck do you think you're doing here?"
"I'm getting my prisoner." I tried to sound matter of fact, but I felt the tremor in my voice, hoping it was just me who heard it.
I must give Caecina credit; he did try to assert his authority in a forceful manner, snarling, "When are you going to learn, Gregarius? I fucking outrank you and I'm giving you an order, right now, to get the fuck out of here and mind your own fucking business!"
His words actually had the opposite effect of what I knew he was intending because I had a secret ally in that moment.
"You're not in uniform, Sergeant." Personally, I thought using my sword to point at his rapidly softening member was a nice touch that sent its own message. "It's hard to take you seriously when you're waving your prick at me."
It did not take much light to see his face flush, but when he opened his mouth to say something, while I was actually interested in his rejoinder, before he could say anything, the cornu sounded the call again.
"And it sounds like we have other business to attend to," I reminded them.
Closing his good eye – I suppose this was the first time I noticed his bad eye did not actually close – he snarled a curse, although he was pulling up his bracae and dropping his tunic as he did so. Seeing that he was getting himself properly attired, I turned my attention to the other two men, but when Geta picked up his harness and tried to draw his sword in one motion, I was close enough that I all I had to do was extend my arm to put the tip of my sword under his chin. Naturally, this got his attention, but I did not speak, just shaking my head instead, which was enough. Seeing he had gotten the message, I returned my attention to other matters.
"We need to get moving," I commented.
"Agreed," Caecina said, and I heard the clanking sound of his segmentata being picked up off the floor. "We can finish this later."
"Oh, it's finished now," I replied, but as I instantly discovered, I was wrong.
I had made a mistake, perhaps understandable but no less an error. While my eyes remained on the pair of Geta and Mela, my ears told me Caecina was behaving as I expected by retrieving his armor. Unfortunately, my ears were deceived. Although I was still looking at the other two, I sensed Caecina moving in my direction, yet when I turned my head to look at him, my sword was still extended, just inches from Geta's face. However, confronting me was essentially the same view Geta had, as the point of Caecina's sword was hovering about the same distance from my own face. In my glance, I saw that while he had picked up his segmentata, he was still holding it in his left hand, apparently deciding he could don it in a moment, after he had neutralized me as a threat.
"Now," he said, "as much as I hate to say it, Pullus is right. We have to hurry. But," I believe the smile he gave was meant for me, because it contained a promise of cruelty, "once we're through with whatever's going on, we're coming back here. And," he paused, his smile vanishing and his good eye glittered with undisguised malice, "we're going to finish what we started."
Before he finished, I heard the hissing sound of another blade being drawn, telling me that I was outnumbered, and for the moment, outmaneuvered.
"Good thing she's tied up." Mela tried to sound cheerful, as if relating an interesting piece of news. "We wouldn't want her wandering off."
Now faced with two blades, the trio used them to back me out of the house, and although I kept my sword extended as well, I made no attempt to resist. While Mela and Geta herded me back out onto the street, Caecina disappeared back inside and I gasped at the thought he was actually going to go ahead and rape the girl. Thankfully, he just blew out the lamp, bathing the room in darkness, and with the girl's whimpers becoming shouts for help, at least so I supposed, he joined us outside.
"Now, let's go see what's what," Caecina said calmly, then without waiting for me to respond, he turned and began running in the direction of the common area with Geta and Mela on his heels.
Suddenly, I was given an opportunity, except I believe Caecina knew me better than I would have liked, because his actions demonstrated a confidence that I would not be willing to risk the extra delay it would take to go back in, fumble around in the darkness, and cut the girl loose. Especially, I thought bitterly, when I could be sure that if I was not with Caecina and the others, my Sergeant would take advantage of my tardiness, telling Asinius or Urso some story I knew I would not like. Cursing bitterly, I began running after them, thankful once more for my longer legs and stride that enabled me to catch up with them before they reached the end of the block. The streets we were running down had men from the other Cohorts also sprinting to the common area, where our shields, javelins, and packs were grounded in our normal formation so we would all know instantly where they were. Once we reached the southern edge of the common area, the scene before us was one of total chaos and confusion as men were scrambling from all over the town to reach their gear, while only about half of the standard-bearers were in their spots by this point. The darkness did not help, as men collided with each other or tripped on some unseen hazard. Making matters worse, the prisoners had come to their feet, for the first time showing something more than the apathy of the defeated and for whom a life of slavery was a certainty. Ironically enough, the first indication I got of what was happening was when I noticed the prisoners all looking in the same direction towards the western wall. Following their gaze, it took a moment for my eyes to pick up the movement, and a longer one to make sense of it, but when I finally did, I felt myself stagger a step backward. At three different locations, I could see men not wearing our uniform on the parapet, spreading in both directions from what I correctly assumed were the ladders they had brought with them. Even as I struggled to comprehend this, I saw one of my comrades in the Tenth turn to face the swarming Varciani in one direction, only to be cut down from behind. Without any wasted motion and before his body had toppled to the ground from the parapet, enemy warriors were dropping off it onto the muddy street that followed the wall, instantly disappearing from our sight behind the houses of the town.
"By the gods, where did they come from?" Lutatius gasped, having just run from where he had been helping combat the fire.
"First Century, First Cohort, on me! Rally to me!"
It was difficult, yet I managed to tear my eyes away from the w
all, but fortunately, my gaze did not travel far, and it was with a sense of relief that I saw that it was Urso, with Capulo and Varo next to him, standing at the southwestern edge of the common area. Just the sight of them standing there, as if for a morning formation, was extremely comforting, and no matter what my feelings for the man were, I realized there was no other Centurion I would rather have as my commander at a moment like what was happening then, and I did not hesitate as I ran at full speed, carrying my shield and javelins. Nor was I the only one; I sensed the rest of my comrades running alongside me as we more or less aligned ourselves while we were still hurrying to stand next to Urso.