by George Green
‘D’you think perhaps they should use the training swords?’ Serpicus asked tentatively, stepping aside as a soldier swung his arm through a half-circle, cutting the air a hand’s breadth above his ducking opponent’s skull. Serpicus was starting to worry that Severus’ methods might lose half of the men before they’d even made a decision as to which ones were suitable.
The centurion looked at Serpicus and read his thoughts. ‘You think I’m too direct?’ He was a short man, but the words rumbled all the way up from his feet.
‘Not exactly, but…’
‘Your instructions were clear,’ he said, the irony bubbling through his voice. ‘I understood that we were in a hurry.’
‘We are, but…’
‘I’d rather have ten good men than thirty useless ones, wouldn’t you?’
‘Of course, but…’
‘The last ten men still standing will be our core force. We can add a few more who have performed well if we need extra.’
‘I see.’ Serpicus had given up using sentences over two words long with him, they weren’t getting him anywhere. Severus watched the perspiring men battering at each other. For a moment he seemed to relent.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said quietly to Serpicus. ‘I’ll get you enough soldiers for what you need.’ He looked back at the men and frowned. His voice rose. ‘And if any of these useless donkeys aren’t up to scratch then there will be time on the voyage to lick them into shape, as well as providing us with the cleanest latrines you’ve ever seen.’
At that, the two nearest men redoubled their efforts, glancing at Severus as they fought, like boys showing off some new skill to their teacher. They fought in the training manual fashion, one advancing a few steps while the other retreated, then swapping. Severus watched them for a few moments then raised a hand and walked towards them. They stopped fighting and took a step back from him. The old man stood with a scarred fist on each hip.
‘Want to come with us, do you?’
They both nodded eagerly. Severus held out his hands for their swords. They both reversed their weapons in the approved military manner and handed them to him. He looked carefully along the edges of each weapon, and then dropped his arms to his sides.
‘Piece of advice,’ he said. His tone was confiding. They leant in to hear him.
‘When you are fighting,’ he said quietly, ‘even if it is only poncing about for show like we’re doing here, don’t just pat each other.’ He dropped his voice and leant slightly forward. The two soldiers bent forward to hear him. ‘If you want to be part of my army,’ Severus said, ‘you’ll need a bit of this.’
As he said the last word, both his arms came up like pistons, fast and hard, and the hand guards on the pommels of the two swords smashed into their owners’ faces. Serpicus heard the crunch of broken bone. The two men reeled away backwards and fell to their knees.
Severus waited for them to recover. It took a little time. Eventually both men stood up. They swayed with tiredness and pain, blood streamed down their faces and they looked at him murderously. Severus nodded contentedly.
‘Like that,’ he said mildly. ‘All right?’ They both growled at him and he tossed them their swords. He stood there, with his arms behind his back, not stepping away, watching them with a benign and slightly expectant expression on his face.
Serpicus tensed, ready to jump forward. Their fingers opened and closed on the handles of the swords. Severus stood there, as if waiting for children to do a trick to earn a treat.
Serpicus felt the air stop moving around him.
Then the moment passed, and the two soldiers hurled themselves at each other with a new vigour.
Severus looked around. Every man on the training ground was now belabouring his opponent for all he was worth. The reek of fresh sweat mixing with stale surrounded them. Severus gave Serpicus a small look of satisfaction.
Serpicus gestured to the men he had hit. ‘I suppose those two won’t be coming?’ he said.
Severus shook his head. ‘First on my list,’ he said proudly. ‘Both with broken noses and just look at them going at each other now.’
He let the men fight on with the heavy swords until their arms were too tired to lift and their nerveless fingers couldn’t hold onto them any longer. Then he formed them up into ranks and invited anyone who wanted to leave to do so. Ten men picked up their gear and walked away. Then he got the remainder wrestling in pairs until they lay on the ground gasping for air. He gave them a too-short moment to catch their breath and then they were on parade once more. Again he offered them a chance to leave. Two more men staggered away, and Severus told another who had fallen awkwardly and broken his right arm to step out to the side.
‘You can’t fight, you can’t row, you can’t carry. Sorry, son. You’re no good to us.’
The soldier held the useless arm across his chest and looked hard at Severus. They moved away from the men and stood near Serpicus.
‘I am Soldi,’ he said quietly. ‘You were my centurion when I was stationed in Germany. It was my first year as a soldier. When the Marcomanni came over the wall, hundreds of them, screaming like devils, I was about to jump back off the rampart to run and save myself. Then I saw you leap forward and strike down the leading barbarian. I was ashamed of myself, and I stayed and fought beside you with every other man in the garrison. We beat them off. You saved us all that day, and you saved my honour. If you are on this expedition I want to be on it as well.’ He looked at his useless arm and shrugged. ‘Besides, I’m left-handed.’
Severus looked at the man carefully, then paused for a moment. He looked at the man’s arm as one might look at the teeth of a horse one was thinking seriously of buying. ‘Tell you what,’ he said gruffly. ‘We’ll let the doctor do his worst with that arm. If you don’t make a sound while he’s mauling you, and if he says the break isn’t too bad, then maybe we’ll find something for you to do while it’s mending. No promises, mind.’
Soldi nodded his thanks and stepped back into the ranks. Severus stood beside Serpicus.
‘Didn’t look too bad,’ Serpicus said. The centurion rocked slowly on his heels and said nothing. ‘Probably just a dislocation. It’ll be mended by the time we need him to use a sword.’
‘That’s what I thought,’ said Severus gruffly, as if he was thinking about something else more serious.
‘And he’s been to Germany before. He might be of help with the terrain, even the language.’
‘Useful,’ said Severus, pursing his lips and nodding.
‘We need someone to keep count of supplies, that sort of thing,’ Serpicus said. ‘We could keep him busy doing that.’
‘Good idea,’ Severus said.
‘After all, someone’s got to do it.’
Severus nodded abruptly, as if it was of little consequence. ‘Might as well be him then, eh?’
‘Might as well.’
Serpicus smiled to himself and said nothing more, lest he should think that he was suggesting for even a moment that the old man was anything less than Severus the bastard, the hardest bastard centurion in the whole bastard Roman army.
Chapter Thirteen
To Aelius Sejanus, from his Servant:
I have placed myself in a position to join the expedition without arousing suspicion. I have every confidence that I will be included in their number and will thus be able to carry out your instructions. It may be necessary to be out of communication for short periods, but I will endeavour to report regularly.
Brutus and Serpicus had gone to the docks at Ostia, ten miles from Rome, to look for the ship. Their ship.
It was moored exactly where Blaesus said it would be. A large pile of provisions was on the dockside. One man was standing beside it, with an attitude of relaxed contemplation. As they approached he picked up a small bundle and walked slowly towards the ship. Some other men were playing dice nearby. They looked comfortable. If they had been loading supplies onto the ship, it was plainly some time since they started t
heir break.
The man who looked most like a ship’s captain stood on the bow, eating a ripe fig with slow enjoyment. He was tall, deeply tanned and appeared sober. He looked at them suspiciously as they approached. Serpicus called up to him.
‘You must be Cinna.’
The look of suspicion deepened. ‘Who’s asking?’
‘Serpicus and Brutus. From the Senator.’
‘From the Senator?’
‘Yes.’
‘Ah, I see,’ said Cinna, pausing to pick at a seed in his teeth with a fingernail. ‘Which one?’
‘We don’t have time for this sort of bollocks,’ said Brutus, loud enough to be heard on the ship.
Serpicus agreed and ignored the captain’s question. ‘We need to look around the ship.’
‘Ah. You need to look around my ship,’ Cinna repeated, only more slowly. His tone suggested that, while he was a tolerant and experienced man, he found it difficult to believe that they knew what a ship was, or that, in the unlikely event of them successfully identifying one, they could look around it without hurting themselves or falling overboard and drowning. He leant back against a rigging rope in a way that managed to imply that if they were lucky enough to survive climbing the gangplank then they’d probably get lost trying to find the mast. Serpicus heard a growl from Brutus just behind him.
‘Yes, the ship,’ Serpicus said, in what he hoped sounded like an authoritative tone. ‘There are things we need to know.’ He waited. The captain didn’t move. ‘But don’t you trouble yourself to show us around, we’ll just find our own way.’
‘Good,’ Cinna said. ‘I’m busy.’ He gestured to the man on the dockside. ‘Hey! Carry that more carefully or I’ll throw you into the bay!’
The man looked back at him and grinned cheerfully. ‘Up your arse, my Captain.’
‘My kind of discipline,’ muttered Brutus, shaking his head in disbelief.
They walked carefully up the steep gangplank. The ship rolled gently as they stepped onto the deck. Brutus put a hand on the mast. He looked uneasy. Serpicus wondered if he was ill.
‘Did I mention that I hate boats?’ Brutus said.
‘You’ll be all right,’ Serpicus said. ‘You can swim better than I can.’
Brutus shook his head and glowered at the mast. ‘I said I hate boats, not the sea. The sea and I have no quarrel at all. I’ll swim all day quite happily in the sea, spend all day looking at it with a smile on my face. The sea is fine. I just don’t like boats, and as of this morning I don’t like the sort of men who sail in them much either.’
Serpicus glanced back at Cinna, who was yelling at another sailor perched high in the rigging. ‘He’s a charmer, all right.’
‘They’re all like that,’ growled Brutus. ‘Never met a civil sailor in my life.’
‘Come on. We need to check what Blaesus has lumbered us with.’
* * *
That evening they went for a drink, to plan the expedition. Serpicus was still feeling fragile from the previous evening and had promised he’d be home early, and so swore he would only have one drink. Galba promptly announced that he was buying, partly to take advantage of Serpicus’ temperance, partly because he had won a bet with several of Severus’ soldiers. He had bet them that he could get a straw out of a man’s outstretched hand with a racing whip without hitting the man. Galba didn’t look much like a chariot racer, and no one told them any different. When he managed it once they said it was a fluke and bet him again, and lost. Then they doubled the bet when he claimed he could do it lefthanded. They stopped betting after that, but by then Galba’s party trick had earned him a pocket full of silver. Now he was in the mood to spend it.
The place was almost empty. The landlord was named Ox, a Parthian, well known to all the animal trappers. He was called Ox because he was big. Very big, in every sense. He was an unusual man in ways other than his size. Most Parthian businessmen in Serpicus’ experience owned one flea-ridden hovel which charged the earth for half a cup of rancid vinegar and a lump of gristle on a dirty plate, and then wanted a month’s salary to go with a surly slave girl who had to be beaten between customers in order to stop her catching lice from her clothes and flicking them into the face of anyone who came anywhere near her. Ox’s establishment was a pleasant exception. He had three well-run wine shops, which charged fair prices for good food and drink; in them he kept a string of good-looking women, and while he kept them busy, he paid well and allowed them to make their own choices about who they went with. Serpicus had been a regular customer until he got married, but he’d hardly seen Ox since then.
The big man turned round as they walked in. His face split into a smile below his heroic moustache and he roared his delight at the sight of them.
‘Germans, in my house!’ He clapped his hands and jugs of wine appeared on the table faster than seemed possible. Brutus and Serpicus sat on one side, Galba and Decius on the other. Severus sat at the head. They had wine in one hand and were working on persuading some of the women into the other. Ox smiled generously and put a hand on Brutus’ shoulder. ‘Life is good, no?’
Brutus raised his cup in salute. ‘In your house, life is indeed good.’
Ox beamed his pleasure and stroked his moustache. The wine-roses in his cheeks were more livid, but apart from that he’d hardly changed since the last time Serpicus had seen him. ‘It does my old heart good to see healthy smiling German boys in my house, fondling my women and handing over their money to me.’ He fussed over them for a few moments and then went to attend to something in the kitchens.
They had been there perhaps an hour and were well on the way to thinking themselves very fine fellows when Serpicus became aware of half a dozen men who had come in not long after them and were sat in the far corner of the wine shop. He couldn’t quite work out why he was suspicious, but something was wrong. He leant over towards Brutus, who had persuaded a pretty Egyptian woman onto his lap and was investigating the fastenings on her robe, which were plainly wholly inadequate for the function they might have been expected to perform. Brutus was telling outrageous lies about the sexual prowess of German men, something to do with druidical potions. Serpicus doubted that she believed a word, but she seemed to be enjoying him telling her about it. Serpicus tapped him on the arm. Brutus turned and smiled, and then put an arm around his shoulder.
‘What’s up, my friend?’ he asked. His voice was slurred. Serpicus hoped he wasn’t as drunk as he sounded. Brutus kept smiling and looking at the girl as Serpicus spoke.
‘The men at the table in the corner, who you aren’t going to look at just yet. Have a glance in a minute, tell me what you see.’
Brutus smiled broadly at him and then grabbed the woman, pulling her off balance. She shrieked as he caught her before she hit the floor, and the two of them turned sideways as he wrestled with her before returning to their original position.
‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘They aren’t interested in us. Didn’t even look at me.’
Serpicus looked straight at him and kept the smile in place. ‘Exactly,’ he said. ‘I’ve been watching them and they haven’t looked at us once, not even the ones facing, us. Why is that, do you think?’
Brutus was having trouble concentrating, as his new friend was sliding her hand down the front of his tunic. Serpicus looked at him intensely, willing him to pay attention. Brutus sighed deeply and held the girl’s wrist firmly. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘What’s your point?’
Serpicus kept his voice down and spoke quickly. ‘We’ve been making a spectacle of ourselves ever since they came in.’ He indicated a group of men at a nearby table. ‘That lot think we’re funny and keep trying to join us and share the joke.’ Brutus nodded and looked around the room without moving his head. ‘They are here for a drink and a laugh, and they are enjoying our company. Everyone else is here just for a quiet drink, and they wish we’d shut up and go away. They become tense and look up resentfully so that we can see how irritating we are to them, especially when
you start singing.’ Serpicus looked at Brutus steadily and indicated the remaining table with the merest flicker of his eyes. ‘Everywhere you look, no one is ignoring us except them. Even if they were indifferent to what you call singing – and like it or not, they’d be in a minority of themselves if they could ignore it – most of your very attractive friend’s very attractive chest is plainly visible. Now, given all that, don’t you think it’s slightly odd they are so assiduously not catching our eye?’
Brutus threw his head back in song. Several other tables joined in, laughing at the cacophony, and the rest hunched their backs and growled to each other over their cups. After a couple of verses Brutus stopped, took a mouthful of wine and leant across to Serpicus, putting a hand on his shoulder in a drunkenly over-friendly way. His face was almost comically inebriated, but his voice was unslurred.
‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘The bastards are ignoring us, and that’s something I won’t tolerate.’ He lifted the cup to his lips but Serpicus saw he didn’t drink. ‘Ever seen any of them before?’ Serpicus shook his head.
The Egyptian woman on Brutus’ lap tapped with a fingernail on his chest. She spoke casually towards her hand, without looking up.
‘I have,’ she said. ‘Two of them were in here yesterday. They asked about legionaries. They talked to Ox for a while, seemed very interested to know where he came from. The dark one sitting at the back asked if there were many other Germans in the legions posted here.’
‘Did he now?’ asked Brutus casually. He slapped the woman on the backside and lifted her off him as he stood. She protested, more at his leaving than at the slap, but he pointed at the privy and held up one finger, then used it to point upstairs. She smiled and let him go. There was a broken stool nearby. Serpicus reached out as casually as he could and pulled it towards him. He gathered his legs under his seat, shifting his weight onto the balls of his feet.