by Bilinmeyen
“Grim’s not here,” I said, looking around. “And the redhead I wounded is—”
He interrupted me with a curt gesture. “Yes. He’s gone. That’s to be expected. Whisked away someplace he cannot do harm. He made a mess of things. No matter if it was just him and some other, or Kleitos, were involved. He is hiding or hidden, and so is the redhead.” He looked glum for a moment. “Now, I know you are a hardheaded one. Your mother, gods bless her in Helheim, could barely control you. You were told one thing, and you did another. You went to Armin to investigate, not to take Rochus to meet him. I’ll have a discussion with Rochus today. He is valuable, and far too valuable to have stand guard.”
“Prince of the Cherusci,” I agreed.
“He is that,” he said. “He’ll have other duties at some point, I think. For now, he is with you. But, I don’t like to be manipulated or lied to. I bet that’s part of the reason why your father trounced you.”
“I trounced him,” I said sullenly.
He laughed bitterly. “See, that’s what I mean. I say one thing, and you come back with another. We are playing dangerous games against dangerous enemies, who are out to kill our noble men and women. In the past, many such plots have succeeded. Palatine is full of ghosts of those who have been wronged. And now, we lay our trust on you. The raven appears, the wheels turn, the wind changes, and I can already feel the situation is slipping out of my grasp. Grim is just the tip of the spear.” He shook his head. ”Do not disobey me. Or Livia.”
“Tiberius, you mean?” I said. “And since you were to investigate Antius, how come you didn’t know the Guard had taken him?”
He glared at me with such fury, I nearly grabbed my spear. He said nothing as he got the reins of his mount, a white stallion. Awkwardly, I let the situation cool. He ignored me as everyone mounted their horses, and I could only wonder at the fabulous looking army. Tudrus sighed as he moved to the head of the turma, where Sextus was frowning, probably wondering why we were not forming up. We guided our horses behind Adalwulf clumsily. He was still avoiding my eyes.
Wandal was stroking his horse, and tried to lighten up the mood. “All these fabulous riches, and still so much deceit and death. Half of the people in the city are ill and starving, no? At least the ones who do manual labor.”
Brimwulf snorted. “The riches go to those who brave their enemies’ spears, and those who are intelligent enough to take risks in trade,” he said dryly. “Or those, whose fathers did all those things.”
Wandal laughed and pushed me. “Let us get rich then, and the others die.”
I nodded, but fear was fluttering in my heart at his words. I felt the Three Spinners had heard him, and had begun to braid together a weave that would put us all in risk very soon.
“Let it be so,” I agreed heavily. We prepared, and in half an hour, after a long wait in the brutal sun, we were all finally ready. Gold, white, silver, and red. Those were the colors of glory that morning.
Kleitos appeared in the courtyard.
He was gleaming in a silvery armor, his helmet a white halo of feathers. He strode forward unhappily, though he did cut a martial looking figure. His shield was round and metallic, and greaves on his feet decorated with tiny details of serpents. He looked around with appraising eyes, saw the columns of tall, grim Germani, and waved a hand at the Decurions. Then, he mounted his black, fabulous stallion. Maximus was waiting until the prefect was on his horse, and then he waved his hand, and men lifted their heads and spears. Adalwulf and the other Decurions growled orders, the unit standards dipped, and some two hundred of us rode for the gate.
Wandal leaned over to me, as we rode at the head of the turma, but Adalwulf pointed him back, his face furious. “This is not a tavern where you saunter around with your mead, Wandal, making an idiot of yourself. Take your fucking place, and keep your ass in the saddle. And mouth shut. I’ll be the only one to speak, and if I speak to you, then you can answer. Not before.”
Wandal grumbled something that resembled a squeak to the amusement of Brimwulf and Tudrus, who looked happy enough. The cavalcade was a rousing thing, a glorious troop, one which men fought hard to be part of.
I had fought hard, I reminded myself. I had risked all. Adalwulf’s tone made me unhappy.
I didn’t look behind, but kept my eyes on Kleitos’s standard, far off in the front. The gates opened with shudder, the troops rode over the bridge to the Campus Martius, and they entered the great field. We rode east, and gazed at the gigantic, hazy hills, full of houses, palaces, insulae, temples, blanketed by a slight haze of smoke from fires. The hills had been dead at night. Now, they were pulsing with life. You could hear the drone of voices all the way over the Tiber.
Not so the Campus Martius, which was oddly complacent, with birds singing, the grass muddy, marshy, dry, and then suddenly lush in some places.
The roads led left and right, and Adalwulf nodded me over. I rode up, and he leaned on me as we rode east. “I am not going to tell you again. You know what is expected. And I do not appreciate you telling me how to do my duty.”
I nodded. “I will do my duty.”
He sighed. “The duty that is expected of you, nothing more. Remember, you are a soldier now. You served in the legions. This is no different. Mutiny is punishable by death. Do not risk it. Let’s ride and forget the discussion. I prefer the roads by the Tiber. The wind keeps you cool. But, we’ll go by the Mausoleum of Augustus, then take Via Flaminia south, past the Capitolium Hill to the foot of Palatine, and there’s the forum.”
I nodded sullenly. Mutiny punishable by death? I cursed him under my breath. “I took that route yesterday,” I grumbled.
He grinned. “You will see much more now. See, there.” He indicated to massive stone and marble buildings near us. “Saepta Julia. Portico of Livia. And that of Pompey, the great enemy of Julius Caesar. There’s a theater as well in his name. I think that is where they killed Caesar, at the foot of his enemy’s statue.”
“Must have been embarrassing,” I mumbled.
“Justice,” Adalwulf answered. “They saw it as justice, and Octavianus executed them later with his allies. Anything can happen in Rome, if one is not careful. Allies can be enemies, and men you trust can stab you full of holes, if you grow careless.”
His warning was clear.
We reached Via Flaminia, and in the light of day, we saw the Roman insulae were different, from those of many other cities. They were packed tight and tall, many much taller than elsewhere. Multicolored drapes fluttered as people pushed to look at us from the top floors. The wealthier occupants pressed to balconies, and doorways were crowded under pillared walkways, where shopkeepers of all kinds stared at the mighty cavalcade pass by. The children were jumping up and down near the horses, whooping as dogs chased after our mounts. A girl was crying, sitting in mud, as a woman, wearing a gray tunica, picked her up.
I looked up at the tall buildings that seemed to stretch to eternity. I blanched at the alleyways reeking of piss, shit, and roasting meat. The roads ran left and right. The crowds were getting thicker. A dark man, like I had never seen before, was bartering with a fat man. Both were tall, the dark man with curly hair and handsome features, and dressed richly, threw his hands in the air and stalked away. Short merchants in colorful robes were rushing across the street, probably headed for a road that led to what I thought was the Saepta Julia, to conclude some important business.
“There’s a therma behind it, Agrippa’s,” said Adalwulf. “You’ll learn to use them religiously. Everyone else does.”
“I’m sure,” I murmured, riding before the silent fourth turma of the guard. Beyond the Saepta Julia, I could see a fabulous, circular roof of some other building.
Wandal was cursing behind, and Tudrus was hissing at him to remain quiet. I snapped my head forward, and noticed we were coming to the wall to the city. “Why do they not enclose the whole city with walls?” I asked, since Adalwulf had just spoken with me, and I was curious.
&nbs
p; Adalwulf sighed and shrugged. “They had. It has grown out of it. They should, really. But, the city keeps growing, and there is no need for walls. Hasn’t been one since Hannibal. Armies guard the city, not walls. And walls cost a lot of money. Now, shut your mouth, and go stay with Sextus. You may speak, softly.”
I fell back and shook my head in wonder at the tall walls, which had seemed like shadows during the night. They were snaking across the hillside of Capitolium. They were dotted with towers and crenellations, and the guards that leaned down to observe us looked tired. “Any legions in the city?”
Adalwulf didn’t hear the question, but Sextus, the hulking signifier, leaned towards me and shook his head. “Not now. Praetorians handle all sorts of duties, and they are at the walls today, and all around the place, in fact. It was forbidden to bring armies to Rome for a long time. Sulla broke the law. Augustus was the last one to do so. He has his vigiles to police the night, but no true legion is stationed in Rome. Here, guess what’s under us?”
“What?” I asked him. “A slumbering god?”
Sextus chuckled. He was an easygoing man, with quick smile. “Aqua Virgo. Agrippa built that as well. Brings water to the city from ways off. More than fifteen miles, I think. It’s running down there.” He gestured downward.
“They do like to build rivers,” I commented, remembering the mighty feat of Drusus far in the north.
“There,” Sextus said. “That is where the warriors congregate to worship death in battle. That is the heart of fields of Mars. Mars Ara.” He nodded to the right, where a street ran up to the west. A low, round building stood, where Mars, Roman God of War, was universally worshipped. Little could be seen, except the busy street. Another wider street ran nearly east to west, and a thickly packed jumble of alleys spread in all directions.
Sextus waved his hand at the housing. “Aemiliana, a land of poor people, tradesmen, and illegal businesses. It’s the reason they sent Grim with you.” He shook his head, muttering something.
I looked hard at him. He said nothing so I asked, “What do you know of Grim?”
He chuckled. “He and some others take orders from Ulrich, that big Ubii.” He nodded at Adalwulf. “They tried to kill you? I saw you come back yesterday.”
“Yes. Ulrich? That one big bastard,” I wondered. “Who does he take his orders from? And have they killed men before?”
“Yes, they have,” Sextus said stiffly. “Ulrich. Some others. We all hate him. A fat-head Ubii, who probably sucks Kleitos’s balls. That’s what you wanted to know, right? They have their Decurion and the other under officers, but they rarely have hard duty, and they have unusual amount of leave in the city. We all know it. So they tried to kill or just maim you?”
“There was an incident with spears and swords, so they tried to murder me,” I said. “They failed.”
“Shit,” he breathed. “I don’t know what’s going on with you lot, and this fucking tension in the air, but I’m surprised you survived him. Kleitos is an ass. Most of us would like to stab him in the gut and leave him in the shitter to die.”
Sextus, the tall man, had a foul mouth, easy manner, and he gave me comfort. He could be useful.
I didn’t like the Aemilina section of the city. I had not seen it well in the dark, and the place looked rundown. The street was muddy, rutty, and people looked, while curious, mostly dirty and sort of desperate. Many were manual laborers on their way to work, no matter if the best man of Rome was being buried that day. Calls echoed as merchants hawked their wares. Signs above doorways gave hints at what was being sold.
“It’s sort of desperate,” I said softly. “And still wonderful.” I looked up to the Capitolium, and Sextus agreed.
“It’s rotten to its core, filthy rich, wonderfully full of life, and it grows on you. And you are a citizen now. You have rights.” His eyes glinted. “We do envy you. But, the fourth is also proud you knew Drusus, and saved Antonia. We have guarded them in the past in Rome, and loved them well. Only the Decurion has never met them.” He nodded at Adalwulf and whispered, “Spends much of his time dealing with what Livia asks.”
I frowned and whispered. “He said he loved Drusus well.”
“Never met him,” the man answered. “But perhaps he did love Drusus. He serves Livia a lot.”
“He does, I bet,” I wondered. “Thank you for accepting us,” I told him.
He snorted. “Oh, that’s far still. But, if Ulrich’s your foe, then you are our friend. Most in their turma deserted a few years past. This Maroboodus led the lot off back home. Some stayed, unfortunately. It’s a stain and a shame you never hear anyone mention that. Wish they had taken the bastards with them.”
Maroboodus. Father. He had taken his men to serve Julia’s causes, and left those bastards behind. Kleitos had kept some for his own shady uses. Kleitos was guilty, and Adalwulf wasn’t telling me everything. He was pushing me to Julia’s lap, and knew it would be both perilous and useless. They were desperate enough to risk my neck.
I almost envied Gernot.
He would be able to carve a place for himself while I engaged in a treacherous and chancy endeavor. We rode on, up the street that was now skirting the lower hills of Capitolium. Up there, beyond the walls and high up on the hill, were magnificent, white buildings. There were a great number of fabulous statues surrounding them, and many stood even on the roofs, like people contemplating suicide. They were poised, posing, life-like giants of color and marble. There were carvings on the walls of the temples, the porticos, and I saw many pillars of gold and red.
Sextus nodded that way. “The city has changed in the recent years. Augustus has poured so much money to rebuild many parts of it. Marble for wood, that’s what he is doing. There.” He inclined his head. “Arx. There the temple of Iuno Moneta, and the ancient mint of Rome. There, too, the Rock of Tarpei, where they used to throw criminals to their deaths. See? That bit of drop. Flowers and vines all along it?”
“I see it,” I breathed.
“Beyond it, on top,” he went on, “that low, large building is the Tabularium, where your name also has been added to the list that names all the citizens of Rome. That long building overlooks the forum, where we go. But, first, we must pass the Porticus Aemilia. There’s a spring near it.”
“I passed it yesterday,” I remarked. “Tell me more about Kleitos.”
He hummed as Adalwulf was closer and we shut up. The cavalcade, chased by children out to alleviate boredom, passed through the gates, and into Rome proper. Again, the many storied insulae spread left and right, until to our left, the huge, open air, marble laden place opened up. Julia’s Forum looked different under Sunna. There were people under porticos, discussing business and traders, money lenders and merchants of all kinds. It was totally hemmed in by buildings, and it took me a moment to spot the brothel, Willing Mare.
I turned to Tudrus. “That’s where she works.”
He glowered at the doorway, where men exited and entered. “She said she’d retire soon.”
I snickered, and Sextus nodded at it. “Yes, that’s a famous brothel. No filthy ones there. This is the area of Forum Julia, and beyond it, Augustus built his own. Many brothels nearby for the business and the merchants they attract. But, no, we will not go there today. We ride past for the Forum.”
“I saw his body yesterday,” I said sullenly.
“He was a great man,” Sextus said loudly and frowned as Adalwulf gave us a baleful stare and rode further. Sextus frowned and leaned on me. “Now, shut up all. Perhaps we shouldn’t talk about Kleitos at all.”
“I’ll find someone who will,” I murmured.
We rode on, and before us, under the hills of Capitolium and Palatine, was the heart of Roman world. There was odd greenness to it. Flowers and trees swayed in a light, somewhat cool wind. The huge temples made of stone, marble and tuft, with amazing pillars and porticos reached high to the sky, and supported wondrous roofs, carved with the visages of the gods. They had been asleep at night, b
ut now, they were awake with people and colors.
I looked behind at my friends, all of whom were staring around with open-mouthed astonishment, and turned to hear Sextus whispering. “Saturn, Venus, many minor deities live in these temples. There, the Carcer, the terrible dank place where they hold prisoners until they are killed. Just a hole in the ground, really. I prefer the Temple of Saturn, that pillared monstrosity just under Capitolium, and that temple of Julia,” he said, and nodded at a gigantic square complex to the west. “Look, Miliarium Aureum, where all the roads begin. Augustus invented it.” Indeed, by Saturn’s fabulous temple, there was a red-hued stone, marking the center of the Roman world.
“Here,” Adalwulf said, and we turned left and right. The forum was packed with people, the hillsides and the buildings as well. We rode behind the tall arched platform and faced south. Thousands of people were packed in the wide area around Via Sacra. “There’s the Rostra, where they hold their speeches. They’ll exit from the Curia.” He nodded to left, as the riders spread behind the Rostra in a massive display of power.
The Curia Julia was a humble building, but that was where Augustus and his family emerged from as we deployed. The praetorians snapped to attention all around the area, some tall Germani guards followed the family, and I saw Livia look up at us. The fourth turma stopped behind the Rostra, and Adalwulf dismounted. We followed suit, and left our horses with the third turma. It took time, but in the end, the thirty men were marching to relieve the guards of the royal family. I saw Kleitos’s eyes follow us feverishly, and I knew he cursed the fact that I still breathed. Julia would be very surprised when I appeared to guard her, I thought gloomily.
We marched for the high family, and took positions near them, and the other Germani guards marched off. We shuffled awkwardly near the family, behind the throng of high men and women who were getting ready for the funeral. There were countless numbers of them. Many were relatives to Augustus and Livia, distant and close. Others were trusted men, and the ones who were favored for some famous deed. Others were simply rich enough to be there. Fine clothing adorned the men, modest for the women, who nearly all wore white palla over their head and shoulders. Many people in the crowds wore red, green, and yellow ones, but the high ones were modest that day.