‘Drop your training swords,’ an instructor yelled. ‘The engagement will be fought with standard issue equipment.’
Obediently Fergus and the others threw their heavy, wooden, training-swords down onto the sand and stood waiting for the instructor to come up to them and hand them the legionary’s short stabbing sword, the Gladius. As he took his sword, Fergus stared at the leather disc that covered the sharp point and which was meant to prevent any serious injuries during the mock battle.
‘We’re going to beat the shit out of you,’ Fronto cried out glaring at Fergus with a contemptuous look.
Fergus did not reply as he crouched and brought his wicker shield up in front of him. Then he glanced at his comrades. The men seemed ready.
‘Attack,’ the instructor shouted.
With a wild yell Fronto’s squad surged forwards. Fergus braced himself as the man opposite him came crashing into his shield, the weight of his charge pushing Fergus backwards. The legionary was thrusting with his sword, trying to find an opening around Fergus’s shield. Grimly Fergus parried the man’s thrusts and blows and then seeing his chance he swiftly struck a low blow, slicing at the man’s exposed leg. His opponent screamed in pain and staggered backwards as a red line of blood instantly welled up across his leg. Fergus cried out to Tiber, the new recruit beside him and quickly stepped into the gap that had opened up in Fronto’s squad line. Along the line, the legionaries of each squad were pushing and jabbing at each other in a furious, snarling fight. Fergus had barely made it into Fronto’s line when a figure launched himself at him with terrifying strength and speed. The impact knocked Fergus’s shield from his hand and as he crashed onto his back in the sand he lost his sword as well. In horror Fergus saw Fronto lying on top of him. His rival too had lost his shield and sword but his hands were groping for Fergus’s throat. Fronto was snarling and whining like a starving, wild animal. With a startled cry, Fergus rammed his elbow into Fronto’s face, eliciting a howl of pain. But the man did not loosen his grip. A moment later Fergus groaned as Fronto punched him in the face. His rival was terrifyingly strong and for an instant Fergus was back in the Lucky Legionary Tavern at Deva on the night that Fronto, in a drunken fit, had tried to murder him. With a howl Fergus shifted his weight and rolled over, flinging Fronto onto his back and, as he felt the blood streaming from his nose, he launched a flurry of punches at his rival. But Fronto seemed to be made of stone and for every blow that Fergus landed, he received one in return. Then with blood pouring from a multiple of cuts to his face and impeding his eyesight, strong hands were suddenly dragging the two of them apart.
‘Enough, enough,’ Titus roared in a furious voice. ‘This is supposed to be a training exercise. Not an excuse to settle personal rivalries. You are a disgrace, both of you! This is not what I expect from my NCO’s.’
Bleary eyed and with a heaving chest, Fergus sat in the sand and glared bitterly at Fronto as he wiped the blood from his nose. His rival’s face was as bruised and bloodied as his own but the raw, vicious, hatred on Fronto’s face was unmistakable. Around them, the two squads had stopped fighting and were silently and sheepishly staring at their battered leaders sitting in the sand.
‘Fergus,’ the Centurion shouted. ‘Get yourself cleaned up and report to my quarters. The rest of you get back to attacking those posts. And if this happens again, I will have all of you on half pay. Move, move, move!’
***
Fergus stood waiting in the hall to Titus’s quarters. He’d washed himself and stopped the bleeding but his face was still a mess of cuts and angry bruises. One of the Centurion’s slaves stood motionless by the door staring into space. It wasn’t really Titus’s quarters Fergus thought sullenly. The Centurion, like the rest of them had been billeted in the barracks that was normally the home to the auxiliary cohorts attached to the First Legion Minervia. They were just here temporarily. The rumour going around the camp was that a battlegroup consisting of the bulk of the First Legion and the thousand man vexillatio of the Twentieth would soon be marching south towards the seat of the Dacian war on the Danube. Wearily Fergus looked down at his army boots as he waited. Crossing the sea from Britannia to Gaul had been an experience that not all had enjoyed, with most of the men being terrified of the open sea and sea sick to boot. The sailors had laughed at them. And as he and his comrades had finally come ashore, Fergus had realised that he’d never before been outside of the province of Britannia. In northern Gaul he’d been able to understand the local Gaul’s who had come to the side of the Roman road to sell their goods to the marching column. But here, in lower Germania, right up against the Rhine, the locals were different; fiercer, taller and more primitive and he and his comrades hadn’t understood a word of their harsh guttural Germanic language. But inside the army camp he and his men had instantly felt at home, for the layout and routine of the stone fortress was the same as their home base at Deva Victrix.
The slave beside the door was still staring into space. Fergus cleared his throat. Kyna, his mother and the rest of his family on Vectis had been overjoyed to see him but he’d not been able to do anything for them in the short leave allotted to him. And now he worried about them for his family were in trouble. Their ownership of the farm was in doubt, but stuck here on the Rhine there was nothing he could do about that now except pray to the gods for help, which he’d done every night since he’d left the farm. And there had still been no news from his father. It was likely that Marcus was not going to return from his ocean voyage. It was likely, he, Fergus had become the head of his family without realising it. Tensely and nervously, Fergus fiddled with the small circular Celtic amulet around his neck, that Galena, his wife had given him. Maybe he should be at home with his wife preparing for the birth of his child. Maybe he should be on the farm on Vectis defending his property. Maybe he shouldn’t be here on this distant frontier. Irritably Fergus muttered something under his breath. Stop being such a woman he told himself. This was the life he’d chosen to lead. This was Corbulo’s life and this was what he had dreamed about doing when he was still a boy. His whole family, four generations, had been soldiers and he would be no different. It was an honest, honourable way of life, even though sometimes he wished he was somewhere else.
Behind him the door to the barrack’s block opened and Furius, acting Optio and second in command of the company, strode into the hall. The young officer was clad in a short-sleeved, white tunic similar to that worn by Fergus. He raised his eyebrows and sighed as he caught sight of Fergus.
‘Ah it’s you,’ Furius said lightly with a hint of a smile. ‘In trouble again? As I recall you and your squad are always getting into trouble.’ Furius paused to stare at Fergus and for a moment it seemed as if he was trying not to burst out laughing. ‘Now let’s see,’ Furius continued, ‘when I was still your Decanus there was that incident with the Brigantian prisoner who you killed. Then in Deva last year you were chased down the street by Fronto, which resulted in Aledus having the shit kicked out of him and spending weeks in hospital recovering and then there was that brawl in the Lucky Legionary Tavern. Titus must be getting sick of you.’
‘You know full well why Aledus and I were chased across Deva that day,’ Fergus said quietly, as he kept his eyes on the floor.
‘I do,’ Furius replied cheerfully. ‘It was one of the best days of my life. And when Lucullus our Optio was wounded, that was another.’
‘What about the incident between me and Fronto on the march across Gaul,’ Fergus said raising his chin with a hint of defiance. ‘You forgot to mention that fight. But it was not my fault, just like today was not my fault. He struck me. He was the first to take a swing at me. I didn’t provoke him.’
‘Fronto is a prick,’ Furius said with a nod. ‘Everyone knows that. But your problem Fergus is that you allow him to bait you. He is doing it on purpose and you always bite and every time you do so, you piss Titus off. My advice,’ Furius said slapping Fergus cheerfully on his shoulder, ‘is to ignore him even if he
shits on your food.’
‘That’s easy for you to say,’ Fergus muttered under his breath as Furius disappeared down the narrow corridor.
Then the door to the Centurion’s quarters suddenly opened and Titus was bellowing for Fergus to enter. Quickly Fergus strode into the middle of the room, saluted smartly and stood stiffly to attention as the Centurion’s second slave, swiftly and silently exited the room closing the door behind him. Titus was sitting in a chair behind a desk, frowning as he read something written down on a wooden tablet. He didn’t look up as Fergus entered. Standing in a corner Fergus suddenly became aware of a second man, clad in a fine, white toga. The man was tall, elegant and in his thirties and he had his hands clasped behind his back. He was studying Fergus with a curious, interested look on his handsome face. Whoever the stranger was, Fergus thought, he was a senior ranking officer, of that he was sure. No one else could look that cool and confident in Titus’s presence.
‘Sir,’ Fergus said clearing his throat. ‘You wished to see me.’
‘Yes,’ Titus growled laying the wooden tablet on the desk and fixing Fergus with a resigned, weary look. ‘We have only just arrived here on the Rhine and already it seems that you are causing quite a stir, Fergus.’
‘Yes Sir,’ Fergus said staring straight ahead into space.
Awkwardly Titus placed the tips of his fingers together and then glanced quickly at the stranger and, for the minutest moment, Fergus thought he saw resentment in the Centurion’s gaze.
‘This is not about your disgraceful conduct on the training field today,’ Titus said sharply turning to Fergus. ‘This is something else. Something that I have only just been made aware of this morning and I must admit it comes as a bit of a surprise.’
Fergus said nothing as he stared straight ahead.
Titus sighed and rubbed his forehead as he looked down at the desk.
‘An allegation has been made against you Fergus,’ he said at last. ‘An allegation from an anonymous source within the company. The allegation is that you are not actually a Roman citizen, that you had someone pretend to be your father and write a letter of recommendation to us upon your enlistment and that you are therefore not legally entitled to be a member of the Twentieth Legion.’
Fergus cheeks flushed but he did not move an inch.
‘This man over there,’ Titus said gesturing at the tall handsome stranger, ‘is a lawyer attached to the First Legion, our hosts. He is here to investigate the allegation and see if it contains any merit.’ Titus sighed. ‘You understand Fergus, these sorts of allegations are extremely serious and I have a duty to report them to my superiors. The army must conduct a full investigation. It’s the law. And I must warn you, that if you are found guilty, you could be kicked out of the Legion and given a dishonourable discharge. Do you understand how serious this is?’
‘It is not true Sir,’ Fergus said in a tight voice. ‘I am a citizen.’
‘That’s not what your accuser claims,’ the lawyer suddenly interrupted as he took a step towards Fergus. ‘He says that your father was an auxiliary cavalryman in one of the Batavian cohorts and, that when you enlisted your father was not a Roman citizen, meaning that you aren’t either. He says you got one of your grandfather’s comrades, a veteran named Quintus to claim that he was your father and write your letter of recommendation.’
Fergus shook his head. ‘I am a citizen,’ he muttered and as he spoke he was suddenly aware of Titus watching him closely. This was Fronto’s work, Fergus thought angrily. These allegations had his name written all over it, but how had his rival managed to come by this information? Only a few men had seen Quintus’s letter of recommendation and even fewer knew the truth and those men, his three closest friends and Galena would not have said a word to anyone, of that he was sure. So how had Fronto stumbled upon the truth?
For a moment, the room fell silent. Then the Centurion stirred and glanced at the lawyer. ‘Fergus is one of my best NCO’s,’ he exclaimed. ‘I understand that you must investigate these allegations but as you can see we are a vexillatio of the Twentieth Legion and all our administrative records are at our home base at Deva, several hundred miles away. It will be impossible to check the records especially as we are to march south to Dacia within the coming days. I need this man in my company, I need him with me when we go. It would be absurd to leave him behind pending the investigation into these allegations.’
‘And yet I must investigate,’ the lawyer said with a shrug. ‘As you said, it is the law.’
Titus growled in frustration.
‘So what do you recommend we do,’ he snapped glaring at the lawyer. ‘My man here has denied the charges.’
The lawyer glanced at Fergus and thought for a moment.
‘Well the allegations cannot be ignored,’ the lawyer said smoothly. ’But if your man can produce witnesses, independent and unaffiliated to him, who are happy to testify that he is indeed a citizen, then this will help his cause. And there is something else,’ the lawyer said carefully. ‘But for me to explain that to your man, I do need to be alone with him.’
Titus grunted and looked down at his desk. Then with a weary sigh, he rose to his feet and strode towards the door, closing it behind him. Slowly Fergus turned to look at the tall lawyer as the man approached. There was something not quite right about the way the man was looking at him. The lawyer came to a halt close to Fergus, too close for Fergus’s comfort.
‘Do you want to know the name of your accuser?’ the lawyer said in a smooth silky voice.
‘Maybe,’ Fergus muttered coolly standing his ground but inside his thoughts were in turmoil. What was going on? Had the lawyer just offered to name his anonymous source? And why was he standing so close.
‘If you do, I will want a favour in return,’ the lawyer replied.
Fergus suddenly felt uncomfortable. The conversation was getting weird.
‘Some men like women, but I don’t,’ the lawyer suddenly hissed. ‘So here is the deal, I give you a name and I drop the charges against you in return for favours, sexual favours, I think you know what I mean.’
Fergus stared stonily ahead, trying to control himself. Striking a superior officer was a major offence and would land him in very serious trouble. But at that very moment he wanted to do nothing more than smack this pervert straight in the face.
‘I think I will pass,’ Fergus growled instead. Then in a louder voice. ‘Will that be all Sir?’
‘Suit yourself,’ the lawyer hissed turning away abruptly. ‘But this matter is not closed. And good luck in finding those independent witnesses,’ the officer snapped. ‘Your accuser is confident that no one in your company is going to come forwards to support you. The allegations will stay on your record until the matter is closed.’
***
It was getting dark when Fergus approached the sober stone barracks block in which he and his squad were billeted. As he was about to enter the small, two room quarters he was met at the doorway by Aledus and Vittius. His mess mates were looking worried and agitated and their expressions instantly alarmed Fergus.
‘What’s going on? What’s happened?’ Fergus blurted out.
‘Trouble,’ Aledus said in a tense voice. ‘One of the new recruits, Tiber. He has vanished. He should have been here for his evening meal but we haven’t seen him. He has been gone for hours.’
‘What,” Fergus growled.
‘We think he may have deserted,’ Vittius muttered. ‘He’s taken all his personal belongings and he left us note.’
‘A note,’ Fergus exclaimed in disbelief.
‘He says he is sorry, that’s all,’ Aledus said shaking his head.
Fergus was staring at his two friends in horror. Then he turned to look away into the gathering darkness.
‘Shit,’ Fergus muttered.
Chapter Seventeen – The Deserter
‘So what are we going to do?’ Aledus muttered looking at Fergus.
Fergus and the rest of his squad stood around
the doorway to their barrack’s block. It was growing dark and in the sky, the first twinkling stars had already appeared. Upon the walls of the legionary fortress the guard was being changed and the cries of the watch commanders rang out across the vast camp. Slowly Fergus tore up Tiber’s note, written on a scrap of papyrus, and let the fragments drift to the ground. Then he shook his head in dismay.
‘Why would Tiber desert?’ he snapped. ‘He knows the penalty for that. He didn’t seem unhappy. It doesn’t make sense.’
‘None of us saw this coming Fergus,’ Catinius replied. ‘And who knows what his reasons are, but he’s gone and that’s all that matters.’
‘He hasn’t been gone for long,” Vittius growled, grinding his boot into the sand. A few hours at the most I reckon, and he can’t have much money. Our salaries are held by the standard bearer and I know for a fact that Tiber, because he is a brand new recruit, has never been paid. He didn’t have any savings either. He’s not a wealthy man. So, if Tiber is planning on heading home to Britannia, he won’t get very far, not without much money. He will have to beg for food and transport. The stupid fool. What was he thinking?’
Fergus nodded and glanced thoughtfully at Vittius.
‘Titus will have him executed if he’s found,’ Fergus said quietly. ‘You know the punishment and you know the Centurion’s attitude. Titus will show no clemency for deserters. He will have no pity. Tiber’s fate is sealed, if he’s not present at tomorrow morning’s roll call.’ Fergus’s face darkened. ‘And boys, Titus may well decide to punish all of us if he suspects that we knew something and did not report it, or try to stop it from happening. We’re all going to get shit for this.’ Grimly Fergus turned to look around at the anxious faces of his men. ‘So there is just one thing for it, we need to find Tiber and bring him back before anyone notices that he is missing.’
‘Decimation?’ Catinius exclaimed in horror. ‘Titus wouldn’t do that, surely? How could we have stopped Tiber from deserting if we didn’t know about his plans?’
Germania (Veteran of Rome Book 5) Page 15