Caledonia

by William Kelso

  "But why?" Vellocatus whined.

  There was anger in Agricola's eyes now. Suddenly he slammed his fist into the wooden table making everything jump. "You murdered one of my men," he roared. "You were seen cutting the throat of one of my wounded auxiliaries after the battle! Now get out of my sight before I have you charged with murder!"

  Vellocatus's eyes widened in horror. He swallowed and stared at Agricola, his face burning with shame and humiliation.

  "Get out!" Agricola roared.

  "You will regret this," Vellocatus hissed. Then he stormed out of the tent and into the darkness beyond. "You will regret this," he shouted once outside. A bucket of water stood on the ground and with a mighty kick he sent it flying into the camp. He didn't feel the pain in his foot. He was ruined. Agricola had just ruined him. "Fuck!" he screamed.

  Chapter Fifteen - Corbulo - Rome, April 84 AD

  The prostitute leaned over the table so that her tits were practically in Corbulo's face. Her long fake blond hair curled down to her shoulders and he caught a whiff of cheap perfume. The woman was old and ugly.

  "Honey," she purred, "This is all you are going to get. If you have no money you don't get any action."

  Corbulo was drunk. The bar, one of the many seedy drinking houses that littered the Subura neighbourhood of Rome was packed. The Subura was Rome's slum neighbourhood where the poor, the sick, runaway slaves, actors, the unemployed, prostitutes and criminal gangs lived and worked. In the far corner an old man was playing soulfully on a harp. From the ceiling an oil lamp was burning incense but it could still not hide the smell of sweat and unwashed bodies.

  "Well fuck off then," Corbulo snapped.

  The prostitute raised her hand to her mouth and pretended to be insulted. Then quick as lightning she slapped Corbulo hard across his face.

  "Your mother should have taught you some manners," she chided.

  The whore was an experienced woman for she leaned back just in time as Corbulo's clumsy fist swung at her. He missed.

  "See you can't even fight like a proper man," she yelled. The tavern erupted in laughter, cat calls and jeering. Corbulo glared at the woman but did not rise from his chair. That was what the woman wanted him to do. He was not so drunk that he had completely lost his senses. The moment he stood up and had another go at her the bouncers on the door would have him. The whore was taunting him. She was trying to get him thrown out again.

  "I served in the Legions woman," he growled. "Have some respect."

  The whore spat on the floor. "Sure you did," she said, "and I am the goddess Aphrodite."

  Corbulo shook his head in disgust and sank back into his chair. For a forty six year old he was still in relatively good health. Long years of hard physical training and work had toughened his body but recently his grey hair had begun to turn white in places and just the other day he had lost another tooth. He sat on his own in his favourite corner close to the toilet with his back against the wall. The position allowed him to see who came in through the bar door.

  He shouldn't be spending all his time in this shit hole he thought. But what else was there to do? What did a retired soldier do? He should have used his army pension to buy a plot of land, build a farm and watch his family grow and prosper. Wasn't that was he was supposed to do? Wasn't that the model life that men strived for? But he had no family. His wife had killed herself and his son had left him saying that he never wanted to see him again. His son's words and his departure had been worse than the many beatings and lashings he had endured during his twenty five years of service with the Twentieth in Britannia. Now he had no family, no job and his army pension was nearly all gone too. He ran his fingers down his face. He had blown his army pension, fifteen years full salary, in just eighteen months and he had nothing to show for it. He'd spent the money on wine, gambling and women. He started to laugh. Fifteen years worth of salary gone in eighteen months! That surely must be a record. Now he was nearly broke, a few more weeks and he would be begging for bread beside the newly opened Coliseum or worse, he blushed, becoming a rent boy.

  "Lucius, another pitcher," he bellowed at the barman.

  The man behind the bar folded his arms across his chest.

  "Don't you think that you have had enough," he replied.

  Corbulo grinned and shook his head.

  "Come on, just one more. For an old friend."

  The barman sighed and reached for another jug of wine. "This is the last one that you are getting," he said thumping the wine down on Corbulo's table.

  "Thank you old friend," Corbulo said clasping Lucius's arm. The barman's nose wrinkled in disgust and he pulled his arm from Corbulo's grasp.

  "You are no longer with the Legions," he snapped. "You are not a soldier anymore and I am not your friend."

  "What am I then?" Corbulo said.

  The barman shook his head in disgust. "You have lost your way Corbulo. One of these days you are going to end up in alley with your throat cut."

  Corbulo grinned and reached to pour himself another drink. "They won't catch me," he cried as the barman returned to his bar. He took a long drink and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and burped.

  He had been eighteen when he signed up with the Twentieth Legion, the Valeria Victrix. He had been sent to Britannia, first to the Legionary base at Camulodnum where he had met his wife, a local girl. Then onwards to Deva where he had been based for most of his twenty five years service. He'd been involved in the river assault on the druids stronghold of Mona Insulis. He had fought in the decisive battle that had ended the destructive career of the Barbarian queen. He had helped conquer and pacify the Ordovices and the Brigantes. He had taken part in two retaliatory raids on the coast of Hibernia. He had remained loyal during the year of the four Emperors even when most of the men in the Twentieth had not. He had been wounded three times in battle. He had been both promoted and demoted by the Legate Agricola within the same day. He had earned the respect of his comrades, his officers and his enemies but now it looked as if he was going to end his days begging for bread on the streets of Rome.

  Corbulo shook his head. It was not right. His wife was dead and his son wanted nothing more to do with him. After his retirement he had intended to take his family back to his ancestral village of Falacrinae, close to the Roman colony of Narnia, some seventy five north east of Rome. But his wife had killed herself days before they were supposed to leave. She wasn't legally his wife of course because soldiers were not allowed to get married whilst in service and his son, his only child had therefore been illegitimate and ineligible to join the Legions. So alone, he had gone back to the village where he had been born, but the village had been full of new unfamiliar faces and the few people who did still remember him had only been interested in getting their hands on his army pension. He had been gone for too long and the old roots were dead. He had drifted to Rome and had ended up living a riotous life in the Subura, drinking, gambling and whoring. Corbulo lowered his eyes and stared at the jug of wine.

  "What a fucking disgrace you have become," he muttered.

  Corbulo sighed and slouched in his chair.

  "Lucius any chance you have a job for me?" he cried slurring his words.

  The barman pretended not to have heard but when Corbulo repeated himself a little louder he turned. "Not a chance, " Lucius snapped, "You will only drink everything that I have got."

  "Well fuck off then," Corbulo grunted.

  Through the open doorway he could see that it was still light outside. How long had he been sitting here? He couldn't remember. He burped again, louder this time. He could either stay here for a while or return to the crumbling rat infested apartment block in which he lived. He weighed up the choice. Maybe the whore would forgive him? He looked round searching for her and saw her sitting on a man's lap a few tables away. The man was holding her by her wrist and his two companions around the table were mocking her. The prostitute was beginning to look uncomfortable. Corbulo took a long slurp of wine an
d rose to his feet. The earth swayed under his feet. The whore saw him coming and her face paled. She shook her head but Corbulo had already tapped the man who was holding her on the shoulder. The man turned to look up at Corbulo.

  "Are you going to let her go or not?" Corbulo said with a crazy grin.

  The man's face darkened. "Fuck off granddad," he sneered. He was a big powerful man in his prime.

  Corbulo's fist smashed into the man's face. With a hoarse cry he flung himself at his opponent. The whore screamed and went tumbling backwards into the table behind her as the two men wrestled on the ground sending tables, chairs, jugs, cups and people flying in all directions. Corbulo had caught hold of the man's throat and was trying to throttle him. His opponent was squealing like a pig. The man was lashing out with his hands and feet but Corbulo's grip was solid. Someone hit Corbulo in his ribs but he didn't feel the pain. Then a chair came smashing down on his head and four strong hands yanked Corbulo upwards. His opponent was still on the floor, his face red and his mouth gasping for air. Corbulo's face was oozing blood from where the chair had struck him. There was a wild, crazy look in his eyes. Then the hands that gripped him were dragging him straight through the bar. He landed painfully on the stone cobbles as he was thrown out onto the street. Lucius, the bar man appeared in the doorway flanked by two of his bouncers.

  "Don't come back!" he yelled.

  Chapter Sixteen - Mercy

  Corbulo stumbled through the alley. His head hurt and he was still bleeding from a cut to his eye. The alley stank of stale piss and rotting garbage. He passed a beggar with no legs. The man sat slumped against a wall holding out his hand. No one had left the man anything. On either side of him the tall four and five storey tenement buildings of the Subura crowded out the sky. The buildings had been erected without any planning permission or control and looked in a bad condition. Inside whole families would be living crammed into a single room with no running water and little chance of escape if a fire broke out which was frequent in Rome. This was how the poor lived in Rome. For the ignorant, violent and needy mob of unemployed who made up most of Rome's population, life was generally hard, brutal and short. The poor lived in an utterly different world to the rich houses around the forum and on the Palatine hill. The poverty and violence that he had seen had even managed to shock a battle hardened veteran like Corbulo. Here in the Subura you rarely saw your enemy. He would come up behind you and stick a knife in your back or he would poison your food or slip a venomous snake into your room whilst you were sleeping. In order to survive in this hell hole Corbulo had learned that it was vital to make friends in the right places.

  He entered a wider street where little shops spilled out into the road. Traders cried out advertising their wares in loud voices, competing with each other to create a furious wall of noise. Groups of children, some barely five years old and nearly all of them without shoes, mixed with the throng of people, running errands or looking for easy takings from those unwary enough to keep their purses on display. Corbulo noticed a couple of big men with shaved heads lounging on a street corner. They would be members of the dozen or so gangs that controlled and ran the Subura and many of the streets in the surrounding neighbourhoods. No one touched those men unless they wanted to get involved in a vicious, bloody street war. Corbulo lowered his eyes and hurried on his way. As he thrust his way down the street he passed a well to do man wearing a toga and accompanied by a slave. The man was followed by a swarm of begging children whom the slave was unsuccessfully trying to drive away with a stick.

  Alongside the traders stalls were the small workshops of the craftsmen. Their owners sat in the front room working away at their products in plain view of passersby whilst in the back room their wives and families fed babies, did the washing and cooked the evening meal. The smell of Garum, rotting fish soup came wafting down the street and Corbulo suddenly felt hungry. There would be a free handout of bread at the gladiatorial games in the newly completed coliseum if he could get in. But the games would only start tomorrow and the prostitute was busy making her living. Until then or until she returned he would have to remain hungry. The thought of another night being spent hungry did nothing to improve his mood. What a fucking awful day it had been.

  He turned wearily into the alley along which he lived and stopped in his tracks.

  "Oh fuck," he muttered with growing alarm.

  Lounging outside the door to his apartment block were four young thugs. They were dressed in short grey tunics and each had a wooden club in his hand. One of them suddenly pointed a finger at Corbulo.

  "There he is. Get him!" the young man cried.

  "Oh fuck," Corbulo muttered louder this time. He had forgotten about the gambling debt that he had failed to settle. The young men had come to collect the debt on behalf of their boss. The thugs were running towards him. Corbulo turned and fled. Behind him he heard shouts and the pounding of sandals on the cobble stones. He shot back into the busy shopping street and struggled his way through the protesting crowd. Behind him he heard a scream and some foul mouthed cursing. He dashed into a narrow alley and sprinted along it hoping they had not seen him. The alley was barely wider than his body. He snatched a quick glimpse over his shoulder and saw that his pursuers had followed him. Damn, damn, damn. He rounded a corner and crashed straight into a woman sending her bouncing into the wall. Then he was past her and her outraged squeal. The alley led him onwards, then it changed into another alley. He felt a stitch developing. Bloody wine. He cursed. If only he had been a few years younger he would be able to out run these pricks but now he was not so sure. They were young men, strong and well fed. With those clubs they could easily batter him to death. He heard their running footsteps behind him and knew that they were gaining. He skidded around another corner and stormed towards the wider street he could see up ahead. He may have owed a gambling debt but the man he had gambled with had cheated. He was not going to pay a cheat. He tore into the wider street and suddenly realised where he was. He was on the Argiletum, the book sellers street. He felt the stitch in his side intensify. He was not going to last much longer. With his strength rapidly fading he burst into out onto the Sacred Way and the sunlight that bathed the forum. Behind him he heard laboured breathing. They were very close now. A few paces up the Sacred Way coming towards him was a closed litter being carried by four slaves, two at the front and two at the back. An imperious looking man was clearing the crowd ahead of the litter with his staff. Corbulo staggered forwards, grasped one of the wooden beams with a hand and knelt down on one knee lowering his head to the ground.

  "Mercy, lady, mercy," he panted.

  Behind him he sensed that his pursuers had halted a few paces away. The imperious official turned angrily towards Corbulo.

  "Get your hands off that litter at once," he cried raising his staff to strike at Corbulo's exposed back.

  "Mercy lady," Corbulo begged keeping his eyes to the ground.

  "Stop," a female voice suddenly commanded from within the closed litter. A thin curtain shielded the lady from public view but all knew who she was. The vestal virgins were well known in Rome. They were the priestesses of Vesta, sworn to celibacy and service to the goddess of the hearth and held in high esteem and respect by the whole population of Rome. It was through their purity of body and mind that the purity of Rome was guaranteed. Behind him Corbulo heard his pursuers muttering but none of them dared touch him, not now that he had claimed the protection of a vestal.

  "We will get you later," one of the thugs hissed. Then he heard them stomp off into the crowd. Corbulo kept his eyes on the ground as he struggled to recover his breath.

  "What is your name?" the lady commanded from behind her veil.

  Corbulo remained on his knee. "Corbulo, lady, former watch commander of the 1st Cohort of the Twentieth Legion, " he replied.

  "A soldier," there was surprise in the ladies voice, "Why were you running away from those men, watch commander?"

  "A gambling debt lady, I fail
ed to pay but the man whom I owe the debt too cheated. He does not deserve the money."

  "Ah," there was a long silence behind the veil. "Do you love your wife, do you treat her with the respect she deserves?" the Vestal said at last.

  Corbulo felt the sweat trickling down his back. He swallowed nervously.

  "I did, lady, but I did not treat her with the respect she deserved. She is dead because of me."

  There was another long pause from within the litter. Then at last the Vestal spoke.

  "Tomorrow go to Tiber Island and visit the temple of Aesculapius. You shall find solace with the god of healing. Your wounds are not those of the body but of the mind. Go and heal your mind, watch commander, and start acting like the soldier of Rome that you once were."

  "Bless you lady," Corbulo muttered as he let go of the litter and the slaves started off down the Sacred Way towards the Senate House.

  Chapter Seventeen - The Games

  Dawn has just broken when he woke in the doorway where he'd spent the night. He couldn't risk going back to his apartment, the thugs would surely be watching the place. He rubbed his eyes wearily. It didn't matter. He had not left anything of value behind. He glanced about him. A fish monger was preparing his fish for the days customers. Corbulo licked his lips hungrily. Further along, two women were studying an advert that had been written onto a wall. Today was a public holiday. Corbulo got to his feet. He would have to hurry if he wanted to get in. Everyone would be going to the games. He joined the throng of people moving in the direction of the Coliseum. There was an excited, expectant buzz about the spectators. The crowd provided a measure of safety. Corbulo however kept a watchful eye out in case the thugs were waiting for him. Yesterday's incident was still fresh in his mind. He could have got himself killed. For what, a stupid gambling debt. For hours that night he had not been able to sleep. Stupid, stupid, how foolish he had become. To still his empty stomach he drank his fill from a public fountain. The water refreshed him but he still felt weak. He needed to eat and soon.