Casca 37: Roman Mercenary

by Tony Roberts

  Gunthar sat down and leaned forward. “I would be pleased if he could deal with a group of people who are looking for me, some bandits led by a maniac called Ovidius. I crossed them a short while back and they – ah – have been on my trail ever since. They are here in Massilia and I find I’m not able to get to any of the gates without one of them watching for me.”

  “Bandits?”

  Gunthar nodded earnestly. “They have me caged in here like an animal! If you could guarantee they could be taken care of, I would join you. Are you looking to do your job away from Massilia?”

  “Far away,” Mattias said. “And for good pay.”

  Gunthar smiled, showing gaps in his tombstone teeth. “Even better! Then I can pick up my life once more. I shall stay with you until the task has been achieved, then I shall go as I have no intention of returning to this accursed place.”

  Casca shrugged. “You might not get the full amount for the job. I have a feeling our paymaster won’t pay us the full amount until we return here with the objective safe and sound.”

  “Bah!” Gunthar waved an irritated hand. “I shall have to speak to this paymaster in that case!”

  Casca shook his head. “You can argue for as much as you like; only on safe return will we get paid the balance. Once you hear what the objective is, you’ll understand. Are you in?”

  “Agh! It seems I have no choice. Very well, if it means I get those filthy brigands off my back!”

  With three men on the payroll, Casca could begin to see they had the start of something. But four men still wasn’t enough. He had three roughs; he needed something different. The serving wench smiled at him from the bar and Casca nodded towards her; he wasn’t sure if he ought to keep on coming back to the inn, but as long as he was here in Massilia he couldn’t think of anywhere better. Refugees were still coming in both from the sea and the countryside, all bringing tales of roving bands of lawless brigands or bands of barbarians, and the hard-pressed soldiers working for the rebel Constantine couldn’t cope. Grumblings were on the increase. It seemed the end of the empire was nigh. It depressed Casca.

  With the influx of people, room prices were rising at an insane rate, and landlords and house owners were making a killing. They were dealing in gold or gems as the coinage of Constantine wasn’t worth anything these days, and nobody knew whether he would be around in a few months or not. Either he’d endure, or they’d be ruled by someone else, probably the legal emperor Honorius or one of the new leaders of the invading Germanic tribes, whoever that may be.

  Casca led the three others up to Scarnio’s villa, and the three whistled as they caught sight of the place as they rounded the last corner, all breathing hard after the climb. “Sweet Jesus,” Flavius stated, “he’s well-heeled!”

  “Privilege of being high up in the favored regime,” Casca said. “You can almost smell it, can’t you?”

  “Smell what?” Mattias asked.

  “Money.”

  They were admitted into the reception room and relieved of their swords by two armed retainers. Casca hadn’t seen these men before and he guessed they were recent recruits. The four sat around on benches, looking at the painted walls, decorated with murals of fish, food and gods. There seemed to be some sort of message being portrayed by the murals but Casca couldn’t quite work out what it was. Probably some moralistic tale, he thought darkly.

  “Please follow me to the master,” a servant suddenly announced from the doorway.

  As one, the four rose up and walked down a long, cool corridor to the room Casca recognized from his previous visit. Scarnio was waiting for them, together with a tall, straight-backed man who had military written all over him. Couches were scattered around and the men were invited to make themselves comfortable.

  “Thank you for coming,” Scarnio smiled. “I see you’ve been busy recruiting, Longinus,” he said. “They look suitable for the job in hand. May I introduce Gerontius Licinus? He’s performed some admirable tasks for me in the recent past, and is an experienced soldier in Constantine’s legions. He has agreed to come along on the mission since he’s served in eastern Gaul in the recent past, and knows the geography well.”

  Gerontius nodded to the four. Flavius wondered if he’d served in the same doomed expedition that he had, but no doubt that would soon be known. Casca stood and offered his hand. He wasn’t bothered in being pleasant or making the man feel at ease, he just wanted to see what sort of grip he had. Gerontius took it and the two spent a few moments mashing each other’s fingers, then, satisfied they had met a fellow man, released the grip. Scarnio noted it with a twinkle in his eye.

  “Now I’ve introduced Licinus, perhaps I may be introduced to these three newcomers?” Scarnio looked at the new recruits.

  “Flavius Tibunnus, lately soldier in the legions under Constantine. Saw service in Italy. Licking my mental wounds since that debacle.”

  Scarnio nodded thoughtfully. “Yes; that could have been run better. I’m sorry it ended in failure. Good to have you on board.” He looked at the two Germans.

  “Mattias,” the younger of the two said, “of the Burgundii tribe, as you call them. Fell out with the current king’s regime and am an outcast, if you like.”

  “You speak good Latin,” Scarnio observed.

  “I was brought up a hostage in Mediolanum for my father’s good conduct – he was a noble in the Burgundian hierarchy, but fell foul of Gundahar and who knows where he is now? Probably in an unmarked grave. May God rot Gundahar’s balls.”

  “Quite,” Scarnio said. “And you?” he addressed Gunthar.

  “He’s an Alemanni and speaks no Latin,” Casca said, and translated to Gunthar. The big German rasped out a sentence.

  “What did he say?” Scarnio asked.

  “He said he’s happy to take Roman gold and kill whoever you want him to kill provided you get the people hunting him off his back.” He told Scarnio of the brigand problem plaguing Gunthar.

  Gerontius snorted. “I’ll sort those lice out. Tell him it’s a done deal. I know a couple of really nasty types who’ll be more than happy to take care of them.” Through Casca, Gunthar gave him the information as to where they may be and what they looked like.

  Scarnio pulled out a rolled up length of vellum from a shelf and spread it over the table. It was of Gaul. The men crowded round and looked down on it with interest. It showed the towns and cities and roads, and the borders of the province – most of which no longer existed following the barbarian invasions. Casca translated for Gunthar’s benefit.

  “You men are to travel to the Rhine frontier to rescue my daughter Flora, a sixteen year old girl, from the clutches of the tribesmen who now run the city of Argentoratum.” Casca glanced at Gunthar. The Alemanni held Argentoratum. Gunthar chuckled.

  Scarnio eyed the German before continuing. “The route to Argentoratum is difficult. The legions no longer control the countryside and you’ll have to make your own way from here northwards. The Alemanni and Burgundians are concentrated along the Rhine frontier in the Germania Superior and Belgica provinces; Argentoratum and Mogontiacum would appear to be their respective seats of power, but this is always subject to change. What is true this week may not be the case the next.”

  He waved a hand across the rest of Gaul. “Elsewhere the Alans, Suebes, Vandals and other barbarian tribes have plundered and ravaged their way south west and I believe have crossed the Pyrenees into Hispania, but again this may be not entirely accurate. However, you shouldn’t encounter these people. What you will find are local bands of brigands or soldiers who have set up their own local ruling communities, and many may try to extract a ‘toll’ for passage through their territory. Take whatever course of action you see fit. But I must impress upon you to avoid the same places on your return journey, for obvious reasons.” He looked at Casca who nodded. “Beyond Lugdunum,” he pointed at the city marked about halfway in between Massilia and Argentoratum, “you’re entering territory mostly controlled by the Alemanni,
so you’ll have to take on the appearance of a raiding warband. Your disguises will be waiting for you in Lugdunum at the house of a man called Marcus Caprinius. He is a long standing friend of mine and knows of the plan to bring my daughter back to me.”

  “Can he be trusted? What is the situation in Lugdunum?” Casca queried.

  “He can be trusted,” Scarnio held Casca’s gaze, and the Eternal Mercenary nodded in acceptance. “Lugdunum is, as you probably know, the administrative capital of the region, and will have some sort of organized structure in place. The tribes have not taken the city so I presume the old imperial order holds true there. Marcus is a senior member of the city, one of the top legal advisors to the governor. Whether the governor is the same as last I heard is another matter, as things are prone to change these days depending on whether one supports Constantine, Honorius or any one of a dozen prospective rulers.” Scarnio shrugged.

  “So beyond Lugdunum we’re on our own?” Casca asked, staring at the map. The land east of Lugdunum rose gradually to the Alps, but further north it progressed through rolling hills to the Rhine.

  “Until Argentoratum. My former home is there and I have a contact still in the city. It was they who informed me of my daughter’s situation. I shall give you, Longinus, a further written instruction just before you leave, giving the location and name of whom you are to seek. Best you memorize them and then destroy the instruction.”

  “Understood.” Casca thought it sensible. Also being the only one with that information meant he was unlikely to be surplus to requirements if one of the others suddenly had a change of heart and took Flora prisoner and ransomed her themselves. “I’d ideally like a couple of more to go on the mission; a warband of five is a little on the small side. Seven would be a better number, and it’d give us a bit more protection should we run into trouble.”

  “Anyone in mind?”

  “Not yet, but since we’re going to be in tribal held land for much of the time I think we ought to have Germanic mercenaries. I speak the language, as do Mattias and Gunthar here. We’ll need a couple more.”

  Scarnio nodded. “You have two days. Settle up your affairs here, if any of you have them, then meet Gerontius at the north gate at dusk. The guards will be instructed to let you out after curfew. Show your men Flora’s statue so they will recognize her too.” He faced the five men. “I can’t express enough my heartfelt wish for you to have the protection of God on your mission. My daughter is very precious to me and her safe return – unharmed in any way – to me will be all I wish for. You will be well rewarded on your return, provided Flora is unhurt and has not been violated.”

  “What if some filthy Alemanni has had their way with her, sir?” Mattias asked, his face belligerent.

  “Dispense some justice as is fit,” Scarnio said harshly. “But none of you are to – touch – her, you understand?”

  “Understood,” Casca said, then saluted Scarnio, Roman manner, before leading the four others out onto the covered walkway and led them over to the new statue of Flora. The men studied her, except Gerontius who had already seen it. The three whistled or puffed out their cheeks.

  Gerontius nudged Casca and leaned towards his ear. “Watch them; they might try something once they meet her.”

  “Is she as beautiful as this statue depicts?” Casca asked.

  “More so – I’ve met her. She’d make a bishop kick a hole through a stained glass window.”

  Casca rubbed a bristly chin. He would need a shave. He decided to return to the tavern and say his farewells; maybe he’d have a last session with the girl. It might be the last time he’d have a chance with a woman for a while – and he wanted some temporary respite from the heavy feeling of depression clouding his mind.

  He gave the four others – including Gerontius – their advance money and told them to meet him by the north gate in two days. If they weren’t there then they’d miss out on the reward money for bringing the girl back. Casca reckoned they had enough to get drunk, spend some more on a couple of classy girls and have enough left over for a decent meal, then that was it. A taster. Bait to make them want to come back for more.

  Casca was more concerned about getting a couple more recruits, so he asked Gerontius whether he knew of anyone. The Roman pointed him in the direction of one of the most notorious money lenders in the city; he had hired a few mean bastards recently and had been getting a bit heavy with his debtors. Nobody really liked the greedy slob but what with the current problems in raising troops to just keep what territory they had, nobody had the time or resources to deal with him.

  Casca beckoned Flavius and Mattias to come with him. Gunthar he left to his own devices; Gerontius had to get his pursuers off his back and until that happened, Gunthar was a liability. Casca wanted to keep Flavius close, as the soldier had too much of a liking for the grape. He didn’t want him to end up too drunk to turn up in two days’ time, and Mattias was a worthwhile addition to the plan Casca had in mind. Besides, he wanted to see the two in action.

  The money lender’s was along the street of coins, appropriately enough, in the merchants’ district. Two tough looking men stood on guard by the entryway, arms folded, scowls across their faces just to dissuade anyone from taking too much of an interest in what lay beyond. Casca didn’t care one bit about that. In fact he was very interested.

  “I’m told a couple of Germanic tribesmen have recently been hired by your paymaster,” he said to the first one he came up to, a bald-headed granite-faced individual with deep set eyes. “I’d like to hire them for a job.”

  “Uh?” the bouncer said, not really believing what he was hearing. “You simple-minded? Nobody takes people from the boss.”

  “I’m different,” Casca said offhandedly, peering through the open archway into the compound beyond. A few citizens were being escorted by tough looking guys through a door. They weren’t going that willingly.

  “Get lost,” the bouncer jerked a thumb in the direction of the street back the way Casca and his two companions had come. “Or I’ll mess up your face a little.”

  “Like to see you try,” Casca replied and slammed a fist into the man’s gut, doubling him up. He sent his other fist into the man’s exposed neck and he collapsed into the dust, sending a cloud billowing up. His companion came swinging in but Flavius blocked the first blow and sent an uppercut into his chin, sending him staggering back, then two hefty blows later made the man join his luckless companion in the dirt.

  The three stepped over the prostrate men and passed through the stone-flagged courtyard up to the door that was now shut. Casca wrenched it open and they passed into a corridor with doors on either side and a courtyard open at the rear. There was a fountain of some sort out there but Casca wasn’t interested in that. He shoved the first door open on the left and came face to face with a couple of elderly people being pinned to a table, a parchment in front of them, and a man demanding they sign some sort of document. The elderly man, his hair unkempt, was bleeding from his face, being pinned down by a second brute, while the woman, held by a third, was sobbing in pain and fear.

  “What are you jackals doing?” Casca demanded.

  “Get lost, filth!” the man with the parchment snarled. “This is nothing to do with you!”

  “Mattias, Flavius, rescue that couple,” Casca ordered, facing parchment-man.

  Mattias chuckled, cracking his knuckles. “Time for some carnage!” he boomed, moving in on the man who had been holding the woman, and now was pushing her aside and preparing for a fight. The woman staggered to the rear of the room and was joined in seconds by her husband who had been sent roughly there by the other enforcer.

  Mattias laughed as he waded in, fists swinging, knocking the enforcer’s arm out of the way and then smashing into his jaw, breaking some teeth. Flavius was a little more refined, allowing his opponent to attack and blocking the punch, then sending in a low blow that had his adversary sinking to the floor, groaning.

  Casca grabbed parchm
ent-man, pinned him to the wall and looked at the document. His mouth went down. “This is practically slavery,” he said, shaking the parchment. “You’re taking everything they own and forcing them to pay rent to you after you seize their home. Vultures.”

  “They defaulted on their repayments!” parchment-man protested, squirming in Casca’s grip.

  “What did they get you to pay for?” Casca asked the couple, who were holding each other in the corner.

  “Please, sir, they gave me some money to buy food and water for my wife, but then demanded I pay it back plus an equal amount the following week! I can’t afford that! Prices are so high these days.” The elderly man clutched his bleeding head and looked distraught.

  Casca growled in anger. He stared pitilessly at parchment-man. “You the evil scum who runs this establishment?”

  “Uh, I’m only trying to make a living!” he protested.

  “By sucking the lifeblood out of people who can’t defend themselves. Oh you brave man.” Casca held the man by the throat and slowly lifted him up against the wall. The money lender’s face contorted and turned red as he fought for air. Then Casca lowered him to the ground. “I can end your miserable life any time I wish,” Casca informed him. “You’re out of business as from today.” He turned to Mattias. “Get everyone out of here, then set about it with fire. Burn this damned place to the ground.”

  “But-but..” the moneylender protested. Casca whirled back to him. “Shut up! You’re staying with me, so I can be sure you’re going to behave.” He grabbed a length of rope lying on the table. It had clearly been used on the elderly man. “You take your wife out of here,” Casca said to him in a gentler tone. “Consider your debts paid.”

  The man was pathetically grateful. “Sir, you have done us a great favor. May God bless you!”

  “No doubt he’ll give me what’s due,” the Eternal Mercenary said dryly. “You two had best go before this vile hell-hole burns to the ground.”

  The couple walked shakily past the scene of devastation, smiling at the three who had rescued them. Mattias looked at Casca with a quizzical expression. “Now why has that made me feel good?”