Germania (Veteran of Rome Book 5)

by William Kelso

  As they slipped away into the forest, Fergus silently notched an arrow to his hunting bow. Titula had not spoken a word to him on the fourteen-mile walk, back from the city to their base in the forest. After trying to engage her, Fergus had given up, and the two of them had completed the walk in sullen, annoyed silence. On the walk back he’d come to the conclusion that the sheer horror of the events the girl had been through in recent days, must have made her mute. But despite her condition, the girl had made no attempt to escape. At the auxiliary camp, it had been Titus’s young wife, Lydia who had come to his rescue, when he’d shown up at her door with Titula in tow. It had been Lydia who had told Titus that she would be happy to accept another slave, into her quarters. After a brief inspection of the girl, Lydia had announced that she would do and Titula had been immediately set to work cleaning and helping the cooks. That had been yesterday.

  ‘So Fergus, it seems that the gods want us to work together,” Furius said, with a faint smile as the two of them made their way deeper into the forest. ‘Can’t say I am unhappy with that. After all we both seem to have done rather well out of our last cooperation, back in Deva.’

  ‘My thoughts exactly,’ Fergus replied as he followed Furius through the forest. ‘That jug of wine was a well-timed gift. Titus made the right decision, even if it meant poor Aledus ended up in hospital with his face kicked in.’

  ‘Shit happens,’ Furius shrugged.

  ‘And I am glad that Fronto was transferred,’ Fergus growled. ‘Titus made another good decision there. If he hadn’t done that I would have killed Fronto, that bastard.’

  “Yeah right,” Furius said pausing and turning to look at Fergus in disbelief. ‘That’s tough talk but I doubt you would really have done it. You are a pussy Fergus. You may think you are tough but you are still a pussy.’

  ‘Think what you like,’ Fergus growled as Furius resumed walking. ‘But that bastard deserved a knife in his ribs.’

  ‘That he did,’ Furius said quietly. ‘Arsehole once tried to stab me as well. It was before you joined us. Did you know that?’

  ‘No,’ Fergus replied in a surprised voice.

  ‘Yes, well, best forgotten now,’ Furius said sullenly. ‘But Fronto is my enemy as much as he is yours Fergus and one day he is going to get what he deserves.’

  ‘Does that make you a pussy as well,’ Fergus said as a little smile appeared on his lips.

  ‘Shut up,’ Furius snapped.

  ***

  The small fire, enclosed by a ring of stones and piled high with dry twigs and branches, crackled and spat and the wood-smoke rose through the trees. Fergus and Furius sat on opposite sides of the fire, staring at the roasting carcass of a young deer, which they had managed to stalk and kill in the woods. The animal had been skewered onto a long, metal-spike, which Furius had placed over the fire, held up by two metal supports that he’d driven into the ground. Fat was dripping down into the flames, causing the fire to hiss and explode. As Fergus sat staring at the meat, Furius slowly rose to his feet and reached out to turn the roast over.

  ‘Here, have some of this,’ Furius said tossing across a drinking pouch. Fergus caught it, undid the pouch and sniffed. Then, with a grunt he held the pouch to his mouth and emptied some of the wine into his mouth. Tossing the pouch back to Furius, the Optio did the same, burped and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  ‘You know,’ Furius said with a sigh as he stared into the flames. ‘I am only the acting Optio. When Lucullus returns to health he will get his old job back.’

  Fergus frowned. He hadn’t thought about that. Warily he picked at the hole and tear in the cloth of his cloak.

  ‘But I am the Tesserarius now,’ Fergus muttered at last. ‘So what will they do with you when Lucullus returns to claim his old position?’

  ‘Transfer within the Legion most likely,’ Furius said gloomily. ‘They will post me to another company, just like we did with Fronto.’

  “Maybe they will promote you to Centurion?”

  ‘Nah,’ Furius said with a little amused smile, ‘promotion up to the rank of Optio can be rapid but there is a huge gap between an Optio and a Centurion. Most men must wait ten or fifteen years before they are promoted to Centurion. As you can imagine it is a sought-after position and not too many come free each year. And you need to be in with the senior officers if you know what I mean. No, they will probably make me an Optio in some other fucking company.’

  Fergus nodded and looked down at the ground. Now was the right time to ask Furius if he would lend him, eight silver coins. But asking Furius would be a humiliating experience and as, he struggled to ask the question, the moment passed and Fergus remained silent.

  Furius was about to say something else, when Fergus heard a twig crack in the forest. Jumping to his feet he drew his sword and turned to peer into the forest in the direction from which the sound had come.

  ‘Who goes there?’ Furius cried. He too had leapt to his feet and had drawn his sword. The cold steel glinted in the firelight.

  A few moments later a face appeared from behind the trees. It was Lydia, Titus’s young wife. She smiled as she came towards the camp-fire, clutching a wicker basket under her arm. And to Fergus’s surprise she was followed by Titula, clutching a similar-shaped basket. The girl gave Fergus a stoic look.

  ‘We were gathering mushrooms in the forest when I saw the smoke from your fire,’ Lydia said as she gave both Furius and Fergus a broad smile. ‘Looks like your hunt was successful.’

  ‘It was,’ Furius said, sheathing his sword, “You are welcome to join us. There is plenty of meat. Enough to feed the whole company.’

  But Lydia shook her head as she glanced at the roast. ‘No I should be getting back,’ she said quickly. ‘And I think so should you Furius. Just before we left a messenger on horseback arrived. My husband has received new orders and he doesn’t seem to be very happy about them. I think you had better come back with me. Titus will want to speak with you right away. Sorry to break up your day like this but I know my husband. He is properly pissed off.’

  Then, before either Furius or Fergus could reply, Lydia turned to look at Fergus and gave him a friendly wink.

  ‘Your slave doesn’t say much,’ Lydia exclaimed. ‘But she does what she is told and she is a hard worker. I will leave her with you. Maybe you will loosen her tongue.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Fergus muttered inclining his head respectfully.

  ‘Alright,’ Furius said turning to glance at Fergus. ‘I will leave it to you two to bring that roast back to the camp. I am not going to miss out on eating it. You have your orders, Fergus. See to it.’

  ***

  When Lydia and Furius had disappeared into the forest, Fergus turned to look at his slave girl. Titula was standing at the edge of the fire, staring at the fat dripping down into the flames. She seemed to be waiting for him to speak. Her long, black hair had been tied up and fixed with a small bone fibula and she looked a little awkward wearing her new, Roman style clothes. Lydia must have given her those, Fergus thought. The girl was only a few years younger than himself. Slowly he sat down and gestured for her to do the same and, after a moment’s hesitation, she did.

  ‘Are you hungry?’ Fergus said glancing at her. ‘If you want to eat then take some of the meat,’ he added gesturing at the roast.

  But the slave girl did not move, nor did she say anything.

  Wearily Fergus looked away. It was the same old story all over again. The girl would not or could not speak. It was pointless trying to communicate with her. And yet this time, part of him was not ready to give up.

  ‘I hope that Lydia and the other slaves are treating you well,’ Fergus exclaimed. ‘I hear some masters abuse their slaves, but I want you to know that I am not like that. You will find me an honest, honourable man.’ Fergus paused and glanced at Titula. ‘All I require from you is that you serve me well, and don’t run away. In return I shall feed you, cloth you and treat you well and see to it that no harm
comes to you, and then,’ Fergus sighed, ‘in time you shall earn your freedom and I shall let you go home, but not yet, you understand, not yet.’

  Across from him, where she was crouching on the ground, the girl picked at her finger-nails and said nothing.

  Fergus sighed again and then laughed. This was ridiculous. Was the girl trying to make him look like a fool?

  “What am I going to do with you,’ he said wearily. ‘Gods tell me what I am going to do with this slave girl?’

  Suddenly the girl rose to her feet, fumbled for something in her pocket and silently came and sat down beside Fergus. Startled he did not move. Carefully Titula reached out and poked her finger through the hole and tear in his cloak and, as Fergus looked on she held up a fine, bone needle and a patch of cloth and began to repair the hole. When she was finished, she patted the patch and looked up at him.

  ‘Thank you Titula,’ Fergus muttered looking away in sudden embarrassment.

  For a moment, she stared at him with her pale, blue eyes, as if she was examining him for the first time. Then slowly she rose to her feet and gestured at his hunting knife that was stuffed into his belt. Frowning Fergus pulled the knife from his belt and held it up in the air.

  ‘What are you going to do with this?’ Fergus said guardedly.

  Titula said nothing as she patiently undid his fingers around the knife before slipping it out of his grip completely. Turning towards the roast, she expertly sliced off a couple of pieces of meat and skin and handed them over to Fergus, together with the knife. Fergus looked down at the meat in silence. Then with a grunt he handed one piece to Titula whilst, he stuffed the other into his mouth. At his side, the slave girl did the same, devouring the meat as if she had been starving.

  ‘Thank you,’ Fergus muttered again, when he had swallowed the last of the meat. ‘Now at least I know that you like meat.’

  The girl was crouching on the ground watching him carefully. Then slowly and silently she lay back, hitched up her tunica and spread her legs, exposing herself to Fergus. Beside the fire Fergus quickly rose to his feet.

  ‘No, no, no,’ he exclaimed hastily. ‘I already have a woman. Her name is Galena. She is my wife. There is no need to do that. I do not require you to do that.’

  Hurriedly he gestured for her to cover herself up. For a moment Titula looked confused. Then slowly she pulled down her tunica and sat up looking at the ground, in sudden embarrassment.

  Fergus turned to look away and exhaled sharply. Corbulo, his grandfather would not have hesitated. Quintus had made that clear. Fergus turned to look at Titula. The girl was a pretty and fairly-attractive woman and he wouldn’t normally have hesitated either, before having a go. But he’d made a solemn vow to Galena. He could not betray her. No, he had promised to stay true to her, and however hard that had proved so far, he had managed.

  Sitting down beside Titula, he held out the iron amulet Galena had given him.

  ‘My wife gave me this,’ Fergus exclaimed. ‘Her name is Galena. She is carrying my child. So, I already have a woman. Do you understand? One day I will go back to Britannia and see them both.’

  Titula remained silent but as he showed her the amulet she reached out to touch it, examining the fine metal work curiously. Then abruptly she got up and moved away around the fire and, as she did, Fergus thought he saw a sudden look of sadness appear in her eyes.

  Fergus rubbed his forehead and turned to look at the roasting meat.

  ‘We should head back,’ he said rising to his feet. ‘I will need your help carrying this carcass back to the camp.’

  ***

  As Fergus and Titula, with the young deer slung on the metal pole in between them, came striding up towards the Centurion’s quarters, Titus accompanied by Furius suddenly appeared in the doorway to their barracks. Titus looked unhappy.

  ‘Fergus,’ he barked, ‘get your butt over here. I want to have a word with you.’

  Obediently Fergus gestured for Titula to lower the roast to the ground. Then hastily he came towards the Centurion and saluted smartly.

  ‘You may not believe this,’ Titus growled fixing his eyes on Fergus, ‘but this morning I received a messenger from the Legate Hadrian himself. Yes, that’s right. Hadrian has sent me a message. He has ordered our company to report for special duties at his HQ in Carnuntum in seven days’ time. It has already been approved by the Cohort commander. Apparently, we have been chosen for some special mission beyond the Danube.’

  ‘I understand Sir,’ Fergus said frowning, ‘but what has this got to do with me, Sir?’

  ‘Only this,’ Titus snapped glaring at him. ‘The messenger who came to me this morning was a German officer on the Legate’s staff. He gave his name as Adalwolf. He said that he knew you personally and that based on his acquaintance with you, he had personally recommended to Hadrian that the Legate choose our company for this mission. He said we were the best and that he had complete confidence in us. He had nothing but praise, for you in particular.’

  A little colour shot into Fergus’s cheeks as he stared at Titus.

  ‘That doesn’t sound too bad Sir,’ Fergus stammered.

  Grimly Titus took a step towards Fergus, so that the Centurion’s face was right up against Fergus’s. The Centurion looked furious. ‘He also said that our expedition was likely to take us hundreds of miles beyond the Imperial frontiers and that we would be gone for at least two months,’ Titus bellowed.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven – Roman Diplomacy

  The company stood drawn up in its square parade-ground formation facing Titus. At the Centurion’s side, the signifer, clad in his wolf’s-head skin cloak, was clutching the company banner. Six days had passed since they had been ordered to report to the naval harbour at Carnuntum and Titus was still in a foul mood. Now, wearing his splendid uniform, armour, plumed helmet and red cloak, he stood glaring at his men, tapping his vine-staff moodily against his thigh, as if he was a volcano that was about to explode in rage. Not a man moved and not a man made a sound. Fergus, staring into space, stood in front of the foremost ranks, facing Titus, whilst Furius stood behind the rearmost ranks, clutching his long, wooden staff. Titus had kept the company standing like this for nearly an hour. What was he waiting for? What was he trying to prove? Behind the high walls of the harbour of Carnuntum there was no one to see them. Sourly, Fergus continued to stare into space. Titus had barely said a word to him since he’d told him about the company’s new orders. He still blames me, Fergus thought. Well it wasn’t fair. How could he have known that Adalwolf would choose his unit for this special mission? In the dull November morning sky, dark thunder-clouds were gathering in the east and it was cold.

  From the corner of his eye, Fergus suddenly noticed movement. Four men were coming towards the company. They looked like senior officers.

  ‘Company,’ Titus’s voice boomed out across the small parade ground, ‘Company will stand to attention.’

  In front of their Centurion, the seventy-five legionaries stiffened and straightened up in a smooth collective movement. Clutching their shields and spears, each man stared straight ahead with an expressionless look. As the four officers came up to Titus, the Centurion turned to the newcomers and saluted. A few yards away, Fergus silently swore to himself. Leading the small group was the Legate Hadrian and, at his side was Adalwolf. Hadrian had a beard. Their twenty-nine-year-old commander was of average height and he was a handsome man. Dressed in the uniform of a legionary legate, with muscle cuirass armour covering his chest and a fine red cloak draped over his shoulders, Hadrian looked every inch the dashing young aristocratic general. Fergus stared at him with growing curiosity. The Legate had been with the whole battle-group, all the way from Bonna on the Rhine to their new winter quarters, but this was the first time that Fergus had actually seen him close up. The men had discussed their commander on the long march. Some had called him a clown, an Imperial appointee lacking any military experience but others had said that he was a tough and accomplished sol
dier with a strong respect for the men under his command. Quickly Fergus averted his gaze as Hadrian idly turned to glance at the company. Then with a little nod to Titus, the Legate turned to address the men.

  ‘Legionaries,’ Hadrian cried out in a voice that seemed used to command. ‘For those of you who do not know me, my name is Hadrian, Legate in command of the First Legion.’ Hadrian paused to peer around at the soldiers. ‘Now, I am sure that you will be asking yourself, what am I doing here on this cold day? No doubt you would prefer to be warming your hands over an open fire and filling your bellies with piping hot stew or perhaps hunting in the forest. But Adalwolf here,’ Hadrian said gesturing at the German amber merchant, ‘he has told me that you are the best company in one of Rome’s finest Legion’s. And if that is so, then I am going to need you. Tonight, under the cover of darkness we will be crossing the river and heading north. Our destination lies hundreds of miles beyond the Imperial frontier, a sacred grove in the land of the Vandals. Now the reason why we are going there is to conduct diplomacy on behalf of the Emperor and the People of Rome. The Vandals are Rome’s allies and we need them to remain our friends. We are going to need their friendship when spring comes again and the war in Dacia resumes.’ Hadrian grinned as he gazed at the company. ‘But leave the diplomacy to me. Your job is to get me to this sacred grove alive and in one piece and then back again. Now because of the secrecy, which we need to maintain, none of you today will be allowed to go beyond these walls. None of you will be allowed to tell anyone about where we are going. So, I hope all of you have already said goodbye to your loved ones. Our mission will last at least two months,’ Hadrian cried. ‘You will be issued with winter clothing and whilst you are away your pay will be doubled. Now get some rest. We have a long and difficult journey ahead of us. Long live Emperor Trajan and the People of Rome.’