Rome: Fury of the Legion (Sword of the Legion Series)

by R. Cameron Cooke

  "You were going to let that mule’s ass give me the fustuarium, you son of a whore,” Lucius, the victor, said between breaths. “Why, Vitalis? Why?”

  Vitalis’s face was covered with blood from his smashed nose and he looked in no condition to respond, periodically spitting out mud that he had inhaled.

  Normally, it meant death to strike a centurion, let alone come near to murdering him, but this had been a fight between men, not between officer and soldier. Lucius had been shocked when he was summoned before the legion to receive a decoration instead of a punishment, and he was glad of it, but in spite of that turn of his fortune, there was an account that needed settling. He sent a message to Vitalis carried by one of his tent mates, stating that Vitalis was to meet him at this place at this hour to settle the score between them, or the centurion was not a man. Lucius knew Vitalis would have to respond. Technically, he could have had Lucius stripped of his new medal and flogged for the challenge, but Vitalis also knew that every man in the century would label him as a coward that hid behind his rank. And so, here they had met, and here they had fought. And Lucius had won, and now he wanted answers.

  "Piso had designs on you, Lucius,” Vitalis said, once he had cleared his mouth of the muck and a loose tooth. “I warned you of that."

  “Yes. But you were a party to those designs!”

  Vitalis looked at him perplexedly. “I was following the orders of my tribune, Lucius. I saw no way around that. My duty is to the legion first.”

  "And what of the ambush Piso set for me in the Nervii village that day, with that ass Amelius waiting for me with sword drawn inside the chieftain’s hut?”

  “I know nothing of that.” Vitalis replied puzzled.

  “But you were the one who ordered me to report to him. You can't deny that."

  "I was told to summon you, and so I did. If Piso had designs on you that day, I was unaware of it."

  "And what of the two mule drivers waiting for me in the forest that night?"

  "I don’t know what you are talking about, Lucius."

  “You're going to sit there and deny it, that you concocted that story about your mother to send me outside the camp looking for that old woman's body, knowing full well that I was walking into a trap?"

  "Piso, that bastard.” Vitalis closed his eyes and then dipped his head, as if he suddenly understood. “I didn't know about that, Lucius. You must believe me. I was a fool to ever tell the tribune about my vision." After an uncertain look from Lucius, Vitalis explained further. "After you left me that night, I went to the tribune's tent asking permission to allow you to run an errand for me outside the camp. You were right, I should have just sent you without getting authorization, but you know well my nature, Lucius. When Piso pressed me for the reason, I told him the truth. I told him the same thing I told you. That I thought I had just killed my own mother, and I needed confirmation."

  "You mean to say that wasn't a lie?"

  Vitalis shook his head. "On my honor, it was not. But now I wish I had kept it all to myself. Piso upbraided me for having such ridiculous fantasies, and threatened to declare me unfit for my duties and see that I was removed from my command. But then he eased his tone with me and said he would allow you to go on this errand for me if only to prove that I was indeed mad. He put me off for some time, telling me he would have the pass drawn up and I should come back after an hour. As you know, it was several hours before I managed to get it. That mule's ass never was efficient at company business, so I thought little of it at the time. Now I know that he was only delaying me in order to arrange your murder." Vitalis looked at him intently. "I swear to you, I never would have sent you out there had I known Piso's plans. I wish you had confided these things to me, Lucius. It seems clear now that, when the tribune's previous attempts to do away with you failed, he tried to do it the legal way."

  It may have been clear to Vitalis, but Lucius was uncertain now that he fully understood the centurion’s involvement. "But surely you knew of Piso’s and Amelius’s plan on the day of the foray. Surely, you knew full well they intended to lure me into disobeying a direct order."

  Vitalis wiped a drop of blood from his lower lip. "I did. I won’t deny it. Piso often questioned me about you. He was very interested in your faults. I told him that you were my best soldier and that if there was any shortcoming in you, it was your refusal to harm women and children. I believe I warned you about that, did I not? That day, at the farm, Piso told me he wanted to test your ability to follow orders. He said that if I tried to interfere or warn you in any way he would expose my madness to the legate. He held that over me, and I allowed it to scare me into submission. It was a cowardly act, I know Lucius, and I'm ashamed for it. But nothing frightens me more than dishonor. You know that. I knew that no matter what I did, Piso would eventually get what he wanted."

  "So you consented?" Lucius said disgustedly. "Just like that. Six years as comrades meant so little to you?"

  "You were a marked man, Lucius. Anything I could have done would have only put off the inevitable." Vitalis paused and then looked into Lucius's eyes. "I know nothing of your past, Lucius. You say we've been comrades for six years, and I'll agree, I've never served with a better man. But I've also never served with a man so secretive about his life before the army. In all of my campaigns, in all of the units in which I have served, whenever I encounter tight-lipped legionaries, it is often discovered later that they are some fugitive from justice, or have some ill-deed lurking in their past. I have asked you many times about your past, but you have never told me. For all I know, you might have wronged Piso sometime before you joined the army, and he was merely seeking a just retribution. "

  Lucius stared into a muddy puddle rippling from the downpour, and then shot a quick glance at Vitalis’s eyes. “And what about Senator Valens? Are you in league with him?”

  Vitalis held his gaze without blinking. “I do not know this senator, and why would I? What does he have to do with all of this?”

  Lucius said nothing, but considered for a moment. It was all starting to add up. It was all starting to make sense. He believed Vitalis was telling the truth. The honorable centurion in Vitalis was good for something, at least. The centurion had no knowledge of the conspiracy and had merely been following orders to preserve the honor he held so dear. Piso and Amelius had been acting alone and at the direction of the senator, who had obviously employed them to tie up the senator’s loose ends and permanently bury his dark little secret.

  “Regardless,” Vitalis spoke again. “Piso is now dead. My secret, Lucius, and yours – whatever it is – died with him. I, for one, will never make mention of my mother’s ghost again, even if I find her standing in the ranks at morning muster.” He looked at Lucius and extended a muddy hand. “And you have my sworn word that I shall never mention anything about the charges Piso allayed against you.”

  “Really?” Lucius scoffed. “Is such conduct becoming of a proper centurion?”

  “I obeyed the officer appointed over me, while he was alive. That officer is dead now.”

  “No matter how corrupt he might have been?”

  “The right and the wrong is not for a centurion to decide, Lucius. Perhaps you will understand someday when you, too, carry the vine branch. I tell you truthfully that I was overjoyed when I heard that you were to be decorated, and not punished. I suppose that fool Amelius had enough honor to keep his mouth shut to his dying breath.”

  Not likely, Lucius thought. The suicides of Amelius and Piso were too coincidental, and had all the earmarks of Senator Valens’s handiwork.

  Lucius took Vitalis’s hand and the two helped each other up out of the mud, and then did their best to remove the blood from their faces that they would not be questioned by the centurion of the watch when they returned through the camp gate. The air was now clear between them, and Lucius felt that he could now stand in the battle line with Vitalis without worrying about getting a gladius driven through his side.

  There
was only one man he needed to concern himself with now, and that was Senator Valens. After the conversation he had had with Divitiacus, Lucius had concluded that Valens had come to the army all the way from Rome with the sole purpose of seeing him dead. With all that Lucius knew about the senator’s past, it really was no surprise. Lucius was certain Valens would not give up. The senator wanted Lucius silenced for good, and he would see it done. It was a kill or be killed struggle – and Lucius intended to strike first.

  XII

  “Why do you keep looking out there, legionary?” the Scythian said insipidly from the stark moonlight opposite Lucius.

  Drawing his gladius, Lucius ignored the merchant and ventured out into the darkness to investigate the sound. When he was finally satisfied that it could be nothing more than the scamper of some nocturnal rodent, he returned to the shallow defile in the forest where the plump merchant still lounged on a half-rotten log.

  “Why don’t you relax, legionary?” the merchant said amusingly, his voice thick with the accent of his native tongue. “It has all been arranged. He will not come until the moon is at its zenith. We have some time yet. As I told you before, this man is a professional. He will not arrive early.”

  “It is not your man that concerns me,” Lucius replied, though that was not entirely true. He was not certain he could trust this assassin. He was not sure he could trust the merchant, either, but Lucius had to go through with his plan if he wished to remain alive. Lucius was certain of that. The senator had a dozen agents to call on, and could strike at any moment and from any quarter, perhaps even enlisting men in Lucius’s own century. Lucius had no choice but to act first, and to do so he had to act swiftly.

  He had never hired anyone to commit murder before. The thought made him uneasy, and there was something tediously dishonorable about it, but it was the only option he could think of that might save him, short of desertion, and he would not do that.

  Lucius had approached the Scythian earlier in the day, while the contingent of mule drivers employed by the easterner prepared his small armada of wagons and carts to move with the army on the next day. Lucius was not the only legionary there. It had been advertised amongst the army that the Scythian was offering high prices in exchange for guaranteed purchases on future slave acquisitions, and many legionaries and officers were rushing to solidify eleventh hour deals. After feigning interest in such an arrangement, Lucius had asked the shifty-eyed Scythian for a private audience to discuss other, more lucrative matters. Probably more out of curiosity than anything else, the Scythian had showed a marginal interest and had invited Lucius to his private tent while he took his midday repose. This consisted of two strikingly attractive Germanic slave girls appearing from seemingly out of nowhere, methodically undressing the paunchy merchant, and then proceeding to attend to his every need. The Scythian then listened to Lucius’s proposition while one of the women hand-fed him pickled olives and the other performed carnal acts that appeared more ritual than sensual.

  “So, you need the services of an assassin, do you?” the merchant had said with some suspicion in his voice. “Yes, I have arranged such things before. I warn you, though, the risk is high, and so is the fee – perhaps too high for you, legionary, eh? Two hundred denarii, all in advance, you understand?”

  Lucius had shaken his head, trying hard not to be distracted by the woman straddling the repellant man’s hair-covered body. “Half now, and half when the job is done,” he said firmly.

  The Scythian chuckled. “But you are a common soldier, are you not? Can you afford such a price?”

  Lucius would have to give up every last coin he had plundered from the Belgic villager’s hidden stash, and even then he would need to borrow some. “I will pay it, but it must be half now, and half when the job is done.”

  “But that is no good for me, young man. You obviously do not understand how this works.” The Scythian had said it as a weary schoolmaster instructs a slow child. “You pay me. I find an assassin and arrange a meeting between the two of you. Then I pay him, and he performs whatever task you have given him. I am none the wiser for it, and have no knowledge of your intended victim. That is the key, you see. I will not take the risk of being implicated in any way.”

  “But suppose the bastard you hire doesn’t do what I’ve paid him for?”

  “Then you come to me, and I will deal with it quietly, you understand? But that will not be the case. I only hire reliable men. You have nothing to worry about, as long as you pay me. I have a reputation to uphold, you know.”

  They had bargained until finally the Scythian had reluctantly agreed to take half of the money, which Lucius had immediately produced, and then the other half when Lucius met with the assassin. Now, as Lucius and the Scythian waited at the agreed upon spot, a mile from the camp, Lucius was ever aware of the bulge of the purse full of coins tucked into his tunic and being pressed to his abdomen by his mail shirt. He could barely make out the Scythian’s plump form only a few paces away, but he could see the white teeth of the man’s smile, and it carried a sinister aspect in the moonlight.

  Again, there was a noise in the brush, and Lucius looked to see what it was, gripping the hilt of the gladius that was carefully hidden from the moonlight by his cloak. He half wished he had brought his helmet along, but he had left it in the camp for fear that its polished surface might have given away his position too easily.

  “There you go again,” the Scythian said, without attempting to keep his voice low. “I tell you, legionary, there is no one out here but us. My associate will arrive in good time. Perhaps while we are waiting, you might show me that you brought the remaining balance with you.”

  “I have it,” Lucius said, eyeing the man cautiously. “But you will not see it until your man arrives.”

  “Suit yourself,” the merchant replied casually. “You know, legionary, there are two sides to every story. Perhaps, the individual you are trying to kill also wants you dead. Am I right?”

  “I thought it was your rule never to know anything about the victim.”

  “In most cases, yes. But your situation intrigues me. It has made me most curious – yes, most curious indeed. I have to ask myself why a common soldier would give up a year’s pay to see a man dead. I also have to ask why you wouldn’t just do it yourself. You are a soldier, are you not?”

  “I think you should remember your own principle, and not ask.”

  “It is possible for me to find out such things, legionary. You are aware of this, no? There are many tribunes and centurions that owe me many favors. Perhaps I ask around. Perhaps I do some digging and find out this man you want dead is worth more than you are. Perhaps I inform him of our deal and he offers to pay me triple what you are paying if I simply betray you to him. Could you blame me for doing such a thing?”

  Lucius looked across the dark space at the grinning merchant, wondering where this line of questioning was leading, when he heard the sound in the brush again. This time it was clearly something larger than a rodent. It moved steadily closer, crunching through the leaves on the forest floor. Lucius listened for the distinct footfalls of a single man, but there were more than one set of footfalls approaching. His first thought was a bear, or perhaps one of the wild boars that roamed these woods, but then two cloaked men materialized out of the shadows several paces before him. Both men stopped when they saw him, but they said nothing and expressed no alarm, as if they had fully expected to encounter him here in the middle of the woods. Lucius gripped the gladius tighter as his mind ran through the possibilities. Perhaps this was the assassin and one of his retainers. Perhaps it was the roving watchmen. Should he greet them?

  Just then, he heard the Scythian moving behind him in a rustle of silk garments. It was a racing movement, and Lucius wheeled around just in time to see the bug-eyed man charging at him with a cudgel raised high above his head, the grin now replaced by a maniacal scowl. As Lucius’s mind registered the man’s betrayal, the iron ball on the end of the shaft s
wung and he ducked an instant too late, receiving a glancing blow to the side of his head. The blow stunned him, and might have been fatal had it been delivered with greater skill, but it had not dulled his instincts enough to stop his hand from driving his sword through the Scythian's protruding belly. The merchant shrieked, his eyes wide as he stared in terror at the few inches of steel that was not buried in his gut. Lucius jerked on the hilt several times, the Scythian whimpering with every blood-gushing movement of the blade, but Lucius could not muster the strength to tear it free. The blow to his head had left him in a daze, and he lost his grip on the sword as the dying merchant’s body fell away. Lucius instantly clawed for the dagger at his belt, but before he could reach it, the other two men were upon him, landing solid blows with wooden clubs of their own, blows that would have shattered the skulls of most men. Lucius reeled and fell to the ground. He felt the cold earth against his face, his eyes mere inches away from the twisted face of the dying Scythian. The man was in immense pain, and his screams were loud enough to make Lucius’s already throbbing head hurt even more. The bastard had betrayed him, probably selling him out to the senator, but Lucius clearly saw regret in the man’s eyes as he squirmed and suffered.

  One of the two cloaked men used his boot to unceremoniously roll the Scythian onto his back. Then, ignoring the merchant’s pleas, the man ripped the sword out of the merchant’s belly, producing a scream of pain and a rush of blood that mercifully killed the merchant a few heartbeats later.

  It was the last thing Lucius saw before his mind fell into the dark abyss.

  XIII

  The early hours of the dawn found the legions already on the move. Tents and palisades that had stood for weeks while the army assembled and reprovisioned, were now struck or burned. The cohorts formed up in order of march, shields slung on the backs of the soldiers, and packs loaded upon carrying poles. Before the sun broke over the trees, the first legion was entering the road, but even they were several hours behind the Treveri cavalry and a cohort of light auxiliaries which went ahead to flush out any Belgae observers or ambuscades. The gleaming golden eagle of the legion went ahead of the soldiers, followed by the lesser ensigns of the cohorts and centuries. A file of trumpeters and drummers kept the cadence as steady as was possible on the rough road, and the leading ranks of soldiers carried axes to cut a path through any trees the enemy might have felled along the way. The legionaries kept good order, marching six men abreast, and when they did not, they were sharply reprimanded by the primus pila – the chief centurion, or First Spear – who seemed to have the stamina of a race horse and somehow managed to be everywhere at once. The first legion was followed by its painfully slow train of baggage and engines. In single file, the wheeled vehicles filed onto the narrow road under the careful direction of the chief quartermaster. When the last cart belonging to the first legion had entered the road, the eagle of the next legion began to march. The great pall of dust hung in the air and grew ever thicker as one legion after another entered the road following the baggage of the one before it. It was well past noon by the time all eight legions and auxiliary cohorts were on the march, a column twelve miles long, stretching as far as the eye could see over and through the forested hills to the north.