“Which one is it” Marcus asked, the smell of animal urine starting to cause him to sniff.
“Big white one with the red bow on its left leg”.
Marcus edged slowly into the darkness. What little light there was from the moon outside crept in through the wooden slats of the stable block, but added little to his vision. He closed his eyes and counted to ten, a trick his father had taught him to help his eyes adjust. He moved forwards slowly until he saw what he was looking for, almost in the centre of the block. He knelt and scattered the grain at his feet as he approached, careful to keep the grain in a close-knit pile. He then leant forwards and opened the catch to a small cage in front of him.
As six plump chickens raced towards him from the cage clucking quietly, their waddling action just visible as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Marcus grabbed the chicken with the bow on its leg and held it away from the grain as the remaining chickens greedily took their fill.
“More” whispered Marcus and was relieved when Mella dropped another handful of grain on the floor for the chickens to eat.
“Are you sure you want to do this Marcus?” asked Mella looking over his shoulder as the horses in the stable next door noisily snorted and kicked the side wall in their sleep.
“Yes. I must do it Mella. You know I must” he said earnestly as he held the now more loudly clucking chicken away from the grain its fellows were consuming. “It’s nearly all gone” said Marcus, “we should leave.” As he stood Mella opened the door a crack to see if the way out was clear and looked back over his shoulder.
“Make sure the catch is closed firmly” added Mella in a whisper. “Double check it, you know they will test it when they bring the birds out”. At this Marcus took a small, final, amount of grain and placed it within the cage, again making sure that the pile stayed close together. The birds dutifully entered the cage and the final chicken was placed within when all the grain was gone. After double checking the catch Marcus turned and he and Mella snuck back out the door to the angry clucks of the one still hungry chicken.
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Two hours later as the first rays of sun were rising above the horizon Mella had awoken Marcus and helped him dress for the reading of the Augury for the days march. Marcus had slept little, his nerves on edge at what he was doing, and his thoughts whirling as he considered what would happen if his plan did not work. As the two men approached the temple Marcus was relieved to see the chicken cage and the one chicken with the red bow on its leg in pride of place on the temple steps. He hoped his planning would work and he looked to Mella with a smile, though Mella simply shook his head and continued to walk forwards with his usual leisurely gait. Marcus had planned to arrive early so that he could greet and chat to Antonicus, who would be reading the omen this morning as this was central to his plans. As he approached the temple the two legionary guards moved between him and the bird cage, their spear tips glistening with the early rays of the sun.
“Can’t go any closer, sir” one of the legionaries said, standing stiffly to attention “unless you are part of the ceremony?” he asked, unsure, as Marcus came to a halt in front of him.
“I came to offer my services to Antonicus as I know the ritual and can help set up the area, prepare the candles, the cloth and the snake” said Marcus confidently “is he here yet?” he asked looking over the shoulder of the legionary to the temple door in an effort to put the man at ease.
“Oh yes sir, he is inside with the local priests. Go ahead, I’m sure someone with your training from the temples of Rome will be able to help” he added as he sneaked a look at his fellow guard and turned back to whisper “bring us luck Camillus” and held out his wrist to show a small Rue sprig amulet bound in a thin leather bracelet. The Rue was a sacred plant used in a lot of rituals and said to keep away the evil eye and Marcus had seen many made of silver and gold in Rome showing the three symbols of the moon goddess Diana, but this was the first time he had seen this simple symbol used.
The legionary read his thoughts as he looked at the bracelet and said “Fortuna, sir, daughter and sister of Mater Matuta. She will bring us luck and keep us safe in the war to come” he said with certainty. Marcus was unsure how anyone could be the daughter and sister of a god, but decided not to question the legionary.
“Fortuna be with us all” he whispered conspiratorially glancing to Mella, who to Marcus’s surprise lifted his tunic from his wrist to show a similar symbol bound there and nodded to the legionary who winked back at him. Marcus gawped at him before Mella pushed him, respectfully, forwards grunting a “thank-you” to the legionary who stood aside grinning manically, nodding and nudging his fellow guard whilst showing him the wrist band.
“What was that all about? Marcus asked once they reached the door of the temple. “Just ignore it and focus on what you need to do” said Mella opening the temple door and standing to one side, “I will be here waiting for you”.
Marcus entered the temple and could smell the tang of blood in the air along with the unmistakable smell of tallow candles and incense. The rituals had started before first light as he had thought, and he smiled as he stepped forwards. The draining of blood from a goat and the burning of its intestines to appease Jupiter were the first elements of a complex series of rituals used as part of the preparations for war. He removed his outer cloak and threw it back to Mella as he stepped inside wearing the colourful garments of a Roman Camillus and bleached white outer cloak of the priest’s servant he was. He pulled his hood over his head and walked quietly to the centre of the temple. He noticed two candles were burning low and stooped quickly to replace them. As he did so Antonicus noticed him with a flick of his head, and smiling, nodded his thanks as he wiped thick lumps of gore from his hands into a wooden bowl filled with water. The local priests looked quickly at Marcus and assuming he was Antonicus’s assistant, turned up late, continued with their ritual chanting without taking any further notice of him. The first part of his plan was in place.
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Lucius and the chief staff officers stood beside the small shrine which had been erected close to the main military headquarters in the city square. The blood of the sacrificial bull flushed the central stone a deep crimson and Antonicus was burning the liver after declaring it clear and that good fortune would follow the Roman army. The burning of the liver was followed by a Libation of wine and fruit to Jupiter and Mars before the Augur started his long chants and prayers for victory. Situated around the shrine were the legionary standards and a number of small statues of the personal deities to which each of the commanding officers offered his personal tributes. The statues were placed equally around the sacrificial stone and garlanded with flowers, wine and food offerings as seen fit by each commander. The rituals of war were precise and any small change or problem could spell disaster to the campaign as everyone knew.
Antonicus and his retinue rounded the corner into the square exactly as the sun shone through above the trees of the surrounding forests and illuminated the tops of the buildings around them. Timing was everything thought Marcus and was impressed with Antonicus’s local knowledge which had led to the ritual being staged here at precisely the time the sun would rise above the trees and illuminate this square. Marcus had had only moments alone with Antonicus in the temple and had asked the question he thought would stir the thoughts of the Augur should his plan work as he hoped. All he could do now was pray to Fortuna that he was still in her favour and that the bird would react as he hoped.
The final ritual came some twenty minutes later, and not soon enough for Marcus. As Antonicus called the legionary with the chicken cage forwards Marcus could feel his heart begin to beat faster and he took deep, slow, breaths to calm his nerves. He looked to Mella who stood some way back in the crowd of soldiers who had gathered to watch the rituals and winked back at him with a smirk on his face. So far all the rituals had been good, but the sacred chickens were the portent of the soldier and would be held above all others by the legions.
As Antonicus placed the cage on the floor, he made a show of struggling to undo the catch to the door to show that the chickens had not been tampered with. Marcus knew this trick from his days in the temples, and he hoped what he planned would now work. He took a deep breath and put his final part of the plan into action, stepping imperceptibly forwards and kicking a little dust in the air to catch the chicken’s eyes as everyone watched Antonicus. Once the door was open the chickens ambled out, but one chicken, the one with the red bow on its foot was first out and was clucking loudly, its head bobbing up and down as it looked around the assembled men. Seeing Marcus and the glinting dust at his feet, it made towards him in an ambling, ungainly run, its clucking growing as it moved closer.
The bow on its leg marked the chicken as the leader of the group and all the assembled men would know that how it fed, how it stamped its feet and spread any grain on the floor as it ate would be an important part of the reading to follow. Marcus heard murmurs from the men in the square at the actions of the bird, started by Mella as he had requested, but he did not move, he did not look at the chicken or show any recognition as it clucked at his feet and seemed to look up at him expectantly. Antonicus, his long robes waving in the small breeze and his hood pulled over his head, was staring open-mouthed at the chicken and at Marcus and finally remembered to throw the sacred grain to the birds. As the movement caught the eye of the chicken with the red bow it clucked loudly and raced to the grain feeding madly as the remaining chickens simply wondered around, seemingly bored with the thousand men who stood watching them and the grain offered.
Marcus held his breath. It was now or never, he had to chance his arm before anyone else spoke. “What does it mean Augur” he said in a deep, strong tone, his question repeated by Mella in the crowd of soldiers, who also looked to each other, wide eyed as the question was asked throughout the crowd. As he hoped, all eyes turned to Antonicus who was watching the bird kicking the dirt and pecking at the grain.
“The reading is highly favourable” he said holding his long hand high as he stepped forwards and bent low to grasp the bird in a swift, sweeping movement. The bird clucked loudly at being removed from its food. A few muted cheers rang around the square but they were cut short as Antonicus held the chicken up and spoke again, this time turning directly to Lucius as he did.
“You saw the chicken.”
He turned to look at Marcus and then back to Lucius. “Only one ate the grain. The gods will only be happy if one extra person is added to the army. The sacred chicken has chosen that extra person” he said walking to Marcus and handing him the chicken.
Marcus, with wide eyes and as surprised an expression as he could manage looked to his brother whose face looked as confused as every other soldier in the square.
Chapter 13
The warmth of the floor was exquisite, the beautifully ornate tesserae depicting the Greek gods were resplendent in the warm water of the bath as Postumius lay back and let his head fall beneath the surface before sitting upright again, allowing the warm water to trickle from his head. He glanced at the marble statues and the hunting scenes painted on the walls, taking in their breathtaking quality, surely some great master had painted them. He would have to find out who it was, it had never interested him before, but he was glad to be home. For the past week, he had played host to every senator and friend of his family, telling them of his exploits in the recent fight with the Aequians and how he had fought three times his number before the son of the enemy had escaped by killing a number of his own guards. He had been careful to include Lucius where it was favourable to do so, but he couldn’t help but think how convenient it would be for Lucius not to return from Avaenti. His mind wondered as he lay back in the sumptuous warmth of the hot pool and closed his eyes, daydreaming of his future, how he would be richer and more famous than any of his ancestors.
His thoughts went to the scroll carrying the prophecy and he let it wash over him as he tried to fathom what it meant and how soon he would be saving Rome from barbarians and what the golden scales were. As he was imagining the death of the barbarian leader, at his feet crying for mercy, there was a loud knock at the door which startled him.
“Enter” he said looking back over his shoulder as a ripple set off across the still water. A great swirl of steam moved as the door opened creating a pocket of clarity in a bowl of grey mist. In the middle stood Fasculus and a naked slave girl. The slave was no more than twenty but by the way she walked to the pool and the look in her eyes she was no newcomer to her sport. As she slipped into the water and pressed her hard nipples to Postumuis’s face he smiled to Fasculus and asked “Are they are all coming?”
“Yes sir. Once I had given them a little more information about the prophecy they were falling over themselves to attend your little party” his smile widening as he watched the slave girl work her business.
“Excellent” Postumius said turning to the dark-haired beauty now straddling him in the steaming hot water. “Take the last letter to the Greek and meet me back here at sunset” he ordered without looking over his shoulder. Fasculus smiled and left, closing the door behind him, and nodding to the door slave with a knowing smile.
Chapter 14
“I’m still not happy about it” fumed Lucius as he watched his younger brother riding ahead of him in the convoy.
“Well there is no proof that he tampered with the chickens, so what can we do” said Magnus with a shrug “to send him back now would send every superstitious man in the legions into a spin”. He shook his head slowly as he watched his commander, whose face was set firm with tight, angry lips and creased brows. “You know what they’re like, they’d run at the first sight of the enemy claiming the gods were against them if you sent him back.”
“It’s not that bad” mused Lucius “they’d stand?” he looked to Magnus “don’t you think?” he added nervously as Magnus bared his teeth and sucked in a long breath with a shake of his head. Lucius’s horse snorted and flung its head forwards and down, yanking at his reins.
“Looks like your horse says no!” laughed Magnus. “Yes they’d stand, but they wouldn’t be happy about it. The lad has some guts if he did fashion a way to get himself on this campaign, and the soldiers love him for it. They still call him ‘lucky Camillus’ you know, and they think that with him in the campaign they have some divine spirit looking over them. Maybe it is for the best?” he questioned, looking straight ahead and adjusting his hands on the horses reins.
Lucius looked at his old friend. They had fought numerous campaigns together over the last ten years and he knew Magnus was one of the best soldiers he had ever seen. But this was the first time he had seen his friend so edgy, ready to jump at every symbol or sign that showed what the fates had in store for them. He still wondered if the chicken going to Marcus had been a trick, though Marcus had denied it flatly, stating that he had no way to control the mind of a chicken any more than he did that of his brother. He regretted his outburst at Marcus when they were alone after the ceremony and he had written a long scroll to his father telling him what had happened and that Marcus was staying by his side on the campaign to free Scipio from his siege. As he continued to mull over the events he suddenly heard the call of a horn from the rear of the column and looked to Magnus.
“I’ll go and see what it is” called Magnus as he instantly turned and galloped away followed by his Senior Centurion and Optio who were riding beside him. The column was halted and Lucius decided to trot forwards to speak to Marcus and make his peace. He was here now, and it would be best if they were on speaking terms again. The days ride had been hotter than expected and the combination of an early start, dust and heat had sapped his energy as he moved forwards, his mind trying to set out a few words which he would use as he trotted past saluting legionaires. The land was rising slightly as they moved through the open fields heading for the great forest which surrounded the low hills of Rome. Their path would take them through the forest and on to the highe
r ground where the three crossroads stood. The Romans had presumed the forests would be safe because they had been levelled to provide a wide road with fifty feet of clearing before the thick tree line on either side. Fulvius’s scouts had reported no sightings of enemy troops and the forward columns, under the leadership of Cossus, had progressed into the woods and were holding ground for a mile to their front.
As he approached Marcus, Lucius remembered the day his brother had arrived from Rome along with a great tale of how he had been involved in killing three men who had been trying to steal the Ancilia shield. The boy who had stood in front of him on that day reminded him of his father, but he himself had only met the boy on three occasions and it was a surprise to see such a tall, athletic figure stood in front of him. As his senior by nearly 17 years Lucius had left his family home long before Marcus was born and had spent many years working through law school and then into the army to gain his name. It had taken him until three years ago to become a consul and gain his Tribune rank and he wondered how he would have coped with all the things Marcus had seen before his sixteenth birthday. He had grown to like his brother and he had an overwhelming desire to look after him. As he trotted his horse alongside Marcus and his Optio Mella he saw that his brother was still wearing the stubborn look he had held when he stormed out of their meeting hours before.
“Brother” he said waving his hand to Mella to leave them alone. Once alone he said “You must understand that my words, whilst harsh, were meant with love for you and our family. I carry a great burden as leader of thousands of men and I could not live with myself if I made a wrong decision because I was trying to save you which meant that others were to die. Accept my apology for my words, but know that I would prefer you to return to Avaenti than to stay here and possibly die at the hands of the Aequii and that dog Comus”.
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