by Ben Kane
‘Yes, sir.’
‘This better be good, Crespo,’ warned Corax, his voice hard. ‘Explain everything – fast.’
At this stage, Quintus decided that wiping the sweat from his brow made no difference. That done, he related again how he and Urceus had saved Thersites’ daughter; how the innkeeper’s offer of free wine had been too much to ignore. Recounting how the sentries had let them out with barely a question, he thought that Corax’s lips twitched. This was the centurion’s only reaction until he had finished the entire tale, however. When he was done, Corax stretched out his hand. ‘Give it here.’
Quintus hurriedly obeyed. His stomach churned as Corax read it. If the centurion didn’t believe him, his entire contubernium was in for severe punishment. Even if he did, there would be a price to pay.
‘Do you believe this Thersites character?’
‘I do, sir.’
Corax ran a finger along his lips, thinking.
Quintus sweated some more.
After what seemed an eternity, Corax fixed him with his deep-set eyes. ‘One thing I’ve learned over the years, Crespo, is that an honest soldier isn’t necessarily the same as one who is good in battle. The reverse also applies. A good fighter isn’t guaranteed to be a decent, honest type. For a soldier to be both is a rare thing indeed. Now we both know that you joined the hastati under false pretences, which means that you’re a liar.’ He paused, waiting to see if Quintus would try to deny the accusation. Quintus bit his lip, and Corax continued, ‘So why should I believe this crazy, wine-fuelled story of yours? Can you imagine Pinarius’ reaction if I dragged you before him and this turned out to be a big, steaming pile of bullshit?’
‘He wouldn’t be happy, sir.’
‘Ha! Pinarius does not suffer fools gladly.’
Another silence, during which Quintus felt it important to keep his eyes locked with Corax’s.
‘What punishment do you think is merited for what you and your idiot tent mates have done?’
‘A whipping to start with, sir—’
Corax interrupted before he could continue. ‘How many lashes?’
‘Twenty at least, sir.’
‘Or thirty,’ added Corax coldly. ‘What else?’
Quintus tried not to think about the degree of pain from that many lashes. ‘Latrine duties, probably, sir. Extra sentry duties too. Rations of barley rather than wheat.’
Corax nodded in satisfaction. ‘That would be about right.’
Quintus locked his knees, trying to ignore the nausea that was washing up from his protesting stomach. His attempt had failed. He, Urceus and the rest would suffer Corax’s punishment, and it was down to the gods how many legionaries would die when the Carthaginians came stealing into the town some dark night in the near future.
‘You may be a liar, but you’re also no fool. And only a fool would come to me with such a madcap story when the consequences of revealing that he had disobeyed orders were so severe.’
‘Sir?’
‘I believe you, Crespo.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Quintus, feeling even more stupid.
‘You’re not going to escape punishment, but if the pieces of shit on Thersites’ list confirm what he told you, I will look at your case with a more lenient eye. Before we go to Pinarius, though, you’re taking me to Thersites. I want to assess him for myself.’ Corax pushed the table away and stood. ‘Breastplate,’ he said to the slave.
Quintus dived in before his instincts prevented him from doing so. ‘Your pardon, sir, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.’
Corax didn’t look pleased, but he waved his slave back. ‘Explain.’
‘Thersites said that everyone is watching everyone else. If a senior Roman officer goes to Thersites’ tavern for no apparent reason, suspicion might fall on him. By the time Pinarius acted, he could be dead.’
‘I wouldn’t shed too many tears at that,’ retorted Corax. ‘He’s not Roman.’
Quintus rallied his courage. ‘No, sir, but I promised to do what I could for him and his family. And his friends.’
‘So, you take it upon yourself to disobey orders, and you also bestow Roman citizenship on half of Enna,’ said Corax, his nostrils flaring.
Quintus didn’t dare to respond. I tried, he thought.
‘Put that back on its stand, damn it!’ Corax gestured at his slave, who retreated, breastplate still in hand. ‘Fetch my old cloak. The one with the hole in the back.’ To Quintus, he said archly, ‘Satisfied?’
Quintus studied the worn, hooded cloak that the slave had produced from a chest. ‘It looks perfect, sir.’
‘Good. I suggest that you take me to Thersites with all haste. There’s to be a public meeting later this morning. Pinarius has called the bluff of the town’s leaders and demanded that every adult male gather in the agora. A vote will be taken as to whether the keys to the town should be handed back to its people. It could be quite a volatile situation, clearly, so the entire garrison is to be present. Pinarius feels certain that those in favour of staying loyal to Rome will win, if only because the majority will be afraid to voice their opinion before our very eyes. Up to this point, I agreed with Pinarius, but what you’ve told me changes everything. They might riot. Even if the whoresons don’t, it matters little if they vote for Rome today while planning to open the gates to our enemies the next night.’
Quintus nodded, wishing even more fervently that he had not drunk so much. Despite his efforts, bloodshed of some kind was not just possible that day, but likely.
Chapter XVI
QUINTUS WAS STILL feeling like shit. He was in Pinarius’ quarters, with Corax. The good news was that Corax had believed the story that Thersites had told him; the bad that his centurion had dragged him along in case Pinarius wanted to question him. They had arrived in time for a meeting of all six centurions in the garrison. Leaving Quintus in the atrium of the large house that Pinarius had requisitioned, Corax had hurried into the courtyard where the other officers were already talking.
Quintus tried to distract himself from what Pinarius might do to him by wondering who owned the house. It had to have been built by a Roman, or someone who admired Roman building designs. It stood in contrast to most of the larger dwellings in Enna, which were styled in the Greek fashion – with a courtyard just inside the front porch, rather than the central position favoured by Romans. His efforts didn’t work for long. The headache that had been threatening all day erupted into a full-blown skull-splitter. And no matter where Quintus stood, the death masks of the owner’s ancestors seemed to glower at him from the walls to either side of the lararium. Unsettled by this and shaking from his severe hangover, he offered up a swift prayer to placate them.
‘Crespo.’
His wait was over at least. Quintus spun to see Corax framed in the doorway to the tablinum. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Pinarius wants to see you.’
‘Sir.’ Quintus moved to Corax’s side. ‘Did he believe you, sir?’
‘He did, I think, but he wants to hear it from you as well.’ He looked at Quintus and sighed. ‘Why did you have to get so pissed? You look fucking dreadful.’
‘I’m sorry, sir,’ said Quintus, flushing.
‘Don’t be sorry. Be convincing.’
At this stage, Quintus felt wary of asking Corax anything at all, but he had promised Thersites that he would do his best. ‘The innkeeper, sir? Will some soldiers be sent to guard him?’
‘I might have to send a few of you lot, but yes,’ came the gruff reply. ‘It will only be until the suspects have been arrested, mind.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ Let that be enough, prayed Quintus. He couldn’t be Thersites’ permanent protector.
In the courtyard, they found Pinarius and the others by a pattering fountain. Pinarius was a short, thin man with a perpetually severe expression. Quintus had never seen him this close, but he had a reputation for being a martinet. He knew Vitruvius, and Pera, but not Pera’s junior centurion or the centurion
who was second-in-command of Pinarius’ maniple. They all watched him as he and Corax approached. Vitruvius’ was the one face showing any friendliness, and Quintus’ stomach tied itself in new knots. His troubles weren’t over yet.
They came to a halt before Pinarius. Quintus saluted.
‘This is Crespo, the soldier who brought me the news.’
‘The dog looks as if he’s still pissed,’ drawled Pera.
There were a couple of chuckles, but Pinarius didn’t join in. ‘You certainly look the worse for wear, hastatus.’
‘Sir.’
‘I am told that you came to your centurion with this news in the full knowledge that you would be severely punished for disobeying his orders. Which were to stay in your quarters, and not to visit any establishments that sold wine.’
‘That’s right, sir,’ said Quintus, meeting Pinarius’ gaze.
‘Corax also says that a day or two before, you and a comrade prevented some other legionaries from raping the innkeeper’s daughter?’
‘Yes, sir.’
There was a short pause as Pinarius stared at him. ‘Very well. You’re either a good liar, or telling the truth. Corax is an officer of the finest quality, and if he vouches for you, that’s good enough. Dismissed.’
‘Sir.’ Quintus saluted again and turned to go.
‘Wait outside,’ ordered Corax.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Are you sure about this, Pinarius?’ cried Pera as Quintus walked out. He moved as slowly as he dared in order to catch what was being said.
Pinarius’ reaction was instant. ‘I am. Are you calling into question Corax’s word?’
‘Of course not,’ said Pera, sounding flustered.
‘Then I suggest you keep quiet.’
Hiding his delight at Pera’s embarrassment, Quintus made his way to the atrium. If things went to plan from this point, the men on Thersites’ list could be seized before the meeting went ahead. Not only would the Carthaginians be prevented from taking the town at night, but a vote by the townsmen in favour of remaining loyal to Rome was far more likely.
His mood dampened a little. Despite this success, he and his tent mates were still to be punished.
And his head felt like a well-beaten piece of iron on the smith’s anvil.
In the event, things did not go exactly as Pinarius would have wished. The Carthaginian sympathisers, Simmias and Zenodoros, were nowhere to be found. Ochos was not in his house; neither were most of the rest of the fifteen men on Thersites’ list. Urged on by their centurions, small parties of legionaries searched Enna from top to bottom, but their attempts were hampered by their lack of numbers – an attempt not to raise the suspicions of the populace. By the time that the meeting in the agora was due to start, only two suspects had been detained. Both were taken straight to Pinarius’ house. This news shot around the town as fast as legionaries could carry it.
Not long after, Corax’s maniple started deploying in the agora, which was already more than half full. Most of the glances thrown in their direction were unfriendly, but no one hurled any insults or, worse still, missiles. A continuous stream of men emerged from the little streets that opened on to the space, meaning that no one lingered beside the legionaries. The new arrivals were a cross section of the population. There were labourers and farmers in short, dusty chitons, potters with clay-encrusted hands, butchers in stained aprons, black-faced smiths and well-dressed merchants with supercilious expressions. Old men with sticks limped along, complaining about the pace of their peers. Small boys darted in and out of the crowd, playing catch and annoying their fathers, while their older brothers made derogatory comments.
The press was greatest around the steps up to the temple of Demeter, one of the most important goddesses on Sicily. This shrine, a grand affair with an six-columned frontage, took up the northern face of the agora. Corax’s hastati took up position along the southern side of the large, rectangular space, and Vitruvius’ soldiers covered more than half of the eastern. Pera’s maniple spread out along the western side. It wasn’t long before a messenger from Pinarius appeared to the rear of Corax’s maniple. He passed on a message quietly, and moved off in search of Pera.
Quintus and his comrades were close enough to hear Corax talking to Vitruvius after the messenger had gone. ‘There was only time for a short interrogation, because of this damn gathering. They pleaded ignorance at first, but once one of them had his toes in the kitchen stove, he sang his heart out. The innkeeper was speaking the truth.’
‘They were going to let the stinking guggas in at night?’
‘So it seems,’ replied Corax grimly. A rumble of anger erupted from the hastati, and he did nothing to quell it.
‘Where are the rest of the treacherous arse-lovers on the list?’
‘Here.’ Corax waved a hand at the agora. ‘We’ve got no hope of finding the fuckers.’
The sacred fountain at its centre was now all but obscured by the throng. Boys were clambering up on to statues to get a better view of what was going on. The colonnaded rows of shops and businesses that bordered its two longer sides were no longer visible. Even the steps to the minor temples which lay on the shorter faces, one of which was behind them, were lined with loudly talking men. Yet no one was standing close to the hastati. It was understandable, thought Quintus. Pinarius’ deployment was meant to intimidate.
‘They’ll show their ugly faces when Pinarius starts to speak, surely? We can snatch them that very moment,’ Vitruvius declared.
‘We’d start a riot. No, we have to play it softly, as Pinarius said. Otherwise, things could get out of hand,’ Corax muttered. ‘One suspect mentioned that some of their supporters have armed themselves. We’d sort them out if it came to it, but it could be nasty. There are an awful lot more of them than there are of us.’
‘What are we to do?’ asked Vitruvius.
‘Stay calm,’ replied Corax. ‘Keep our position. Any moment, Pinarius will get here. His soldiers will split up to cover the sections of the east and west sides closest to the temple of Demeter. He will address the townsmen on the issue of who should retain control of the keys to the gate, and then invite its leaders to speak. If they speak for Rome—’
‘That won’t happen,’ hissed Vitruvius.
‘True. If they speak against us, we’re to do nothing as long as their words are peaceable. We’ll let the assembly finish, and seal off all but two streets that lead away from the agora. Pinarius has the suspects with him. One will be placed at each exit point so that they can identify the bastards on the list. We can grab them one by one.’
‘And if they say that we are the enemy? If the crowd turns on us?’
Every hastatus within earshot craned forward to hear Corax’s response.
‘If that happens – or if any other treacherous move is made – Pinarius will clench his fist by his waist. In that case, we are to fall on every man present with drawn blade.’
‘Very well,’ said Vitruvius grimly. ‘If it comes to it, we shall do our duty.’
‘Hades, I hope it doesn’t come to that,’ muttered Quintus to Urceus.
‘So do I. But if it does, it does. They’re not Romans, are they?’
It was shocking but true. The hastati would follow orders – no matter what. So would he. Corax was his superior, and he had sworn to obey him, even if the order was to slay unarmed men. Gods above, let this go off without violence, Quintus prayed, wondering if it had been wise to take Thersites’ list to Corax. Yes, it had, he decided, harsh though that judgement was. If he hadn’t, countless legionaries, his friends among them, would have had their throats slit in their sleep.
The tramp of studded sandals on paving stones drew everyone’s attention. It was Pinarius, arriving at the head of his maniple. Sunlight flashed off his polished helmet and breastplate, and his crimson horsehair crest had been freshly dyed. He looked truly impressive. So did his men. In the midst of the soldiers, Quintus caught a glimpse of a pair of bruised, bloodied faces
– the suspects, surely – before their heads were covered with old sacks and they were whisked off to the designated exits. Pinarius spoke a few words to Corax and then, in a clear exercise of intimidation, he marched his legionaries straight across the middle of the agora. The silent crowd parted like a block of wood split by an axe. Pinarius stalked up the steps of Demeter’s temple with about twenty men. The rest of his maniple spread out until they met up with Vitruvius’ and Pera’s troops. All four sides of the agora were now manned by legionaries. The multitude of locals shifted about unhappily.
‘We’re prisoners in our own town,’ one man near Quintus shouted. ‘You can’t frighten us,’ cried another. ‘Go back to Rome!’
Quintus wasn’t the only one to tense. Corax paced up and down, glaring at the nearest locals. Thirty paces away, Pera snapped an order at his soldiers, who raised their scuta. When Corax saw, a vein bulged in his neck and he hurried over to Pera. There were angry gestures, and heated words, but Pera told his men to ground their shields. Corax returned, looking furious. ‘No one makes a move unless I say so. Clear?’ he barked.
‘Yes, sir,’ the hastati replied.
It took a moment before the calmer heads in the crowd quietened the unhappy ones. A troubled silence fell.
Corax and his men were positioned directly opposite where Pinarius was standing. They could see him, but it wasn’t yet clear if they’d be able to hear his words.
The blare of a single trumpet pierced the air. It drew all eyes to where Pinarius stood, at the top of the temple steps. ‘People of Enna!’ he shouted. ‘I thank you for answering your leaders’ call and coming to this assembly.’
There were plenty of angry mutters. The crowd moved to and fro a little. Men spat on the ground, but that was all. For the moment, thought Quintus uneasily.
‘The meeting today was called by the town’s leaders,’ said Pinarius in reasonable Greek. He raised a hand against the sun. ‘If we are to talk, they must be present, but I see none here. Where are they?’