Amid consternation and hand wringing from those who would instead be going to the Babylon slave markets, the new legion assembled with men rushing to their centuries and conturbernia. It was then that General Saikan surprised by providing tunics, sent up from Babylon, to be distributed among the rank and file. Shortly after, Rufinius accompanied the Xiongnu general on an inspection of the legion.
“Though I can see military bearing, they still look like slaves,” Saikan remarked as he took in row after row of contubernia, the legionaries in each standing at attention, their eyes rigidly and uniformly forward.
“Put swords in their hands,” Rufinius replied, “and show them your enemies.”
*
The column finally marched from Slave Master Farnavindah’s encampment in the early hours of morning.
With the river behind them, Tribune Rufinius was provided with one of the fat, short-legged Xiongnu horses, so that he could more easily review the progress of the march. General Saikan, along with an overseer from Syria who spoke Latin and Aramaic, and Translator Bataar, rode with him.
“You must hurry to learn our mother tongue, Alexandricus, if you are to fight alongside us,” said Saikan. “And your lessons start now. Faithful servant Bataar, the man who speaks my words to you now, will accompany you often until you and I can converse freely.”
Rufinius and Saikan watched on as the column of legionaries marched. The men saluted the tribune and the general in the Roman style, their spirits having lifted with the end of incarceration.
“The men admire their leader,” Saikan observed.
Rufinius replied, “I have done nothing to earn it.”
“You are one of them who has climbed higher. That in itself is admirable.”
Though they were unarmed and carried no baggage poles, the men appeared to Rufinius not as slaves but as Roman legionaries and a feeling of pride filled his chest and tightened his throat.
Over 500 Parthian mounted archers rode either side of the column, keeping a watchful eye, but there was nothing for them to see other than the ever-present clouds of dust. The thin line of greenery edging the Euphrates was now gone behind pools of shimmering desert quicksilver.
“What can you tell me of King Zhizhi?” Rufinius asked.
“What would you like to know?”
“Whatever you care to tell me.”
“The Chanyu understands the world he is born into. The Xiongnu Empire and the Han Empire have been engaged in hostilities for more than sixty years.”
“Over what do you fight?”
Saikan snorted. “Everything! Influence over lesser kingdoms, control of the routes that take silk and pearls to the west, survival.”
“You are losing the fight.”
“How do you know?”
“You buy sword arms in the hope of swaying the balance. Desperate times require desperate measures. You have already said the Han Empire is vast, which tells me it is larger than your own. With vastness comes more men, more swords, more wealth, more influence.”
“King Zhizhi is much beloved,” said Saikan.
“Why?”
“Because he is a true Xiongnu.”
“That sounds hollow, a statement dreamed up with no meaning.”
“You march at the head of an army, Alexandrian, but there is a slave torc around your neck. Forget it not.”
“Will you remind me of this every time I utter something you care not to hear?”
Saikan’s eyes crinkled with mirth. “Probably.” He breathed deep and then exhaled. “Chanyu Zhizhi has a plan, but it is complex and fraught with danger. You are right – the Han are powerful and their power grows as ours dims. They are now facing outwards where for hundreds of years they were content within their own lands. We fight to survive.”
“What is the plan?” asked Rufinius.
“For all its might, the Empire of the Han is slow. Every decision is discussed and picked over like a distasteful meal that must be eaten. And often the mandarins who manage the Empire on behalf of the Emperor residing in the Everlasting Joy Palace decide that the best decision is no decision at all. The Dragon King’s plan is simply to keep the Emperor guessing – an alliance forged here, another broken there, a new marriage … We Xiongnu are nomads. Movement – it suits our way.”
“What is … mandarin?”
“A mandarin is a member of any one of the nine ranks of public officials.”
Rufinius leaned forward in the saddle to bring fresh blood to his legs. He had not spent time on a horse’s back for a long while. The world he was entering was both strange, and yet also familiar. As in Rome, here in these new lands there were men who wanted to possess everything. Without this restlessness would there be no need for armies?
A number of legionaries cheered him as he passed. The interruption cut the bond to Rufinius’s private thoughts and they fled from his mind. He saluted the men and they returned it. For legionaries beginning a journey into the unknown, they were indeed in high spirits.
“The march is not enough activity for the men,” said Rufinius. “They will soon grow bored and restless.”
“What do you suggest?” asked Saikan.
“Let them build a camp with trench and rampart at the end of the day.”
Saikan considered the request. “The time taken from the day to make your fortifications would be better spent marching. The sooner we get to Xiongnu, the sooner my Chanyu’s investment can be put to good use. And we are on friendly ground. The answer is no.”
Rufinius was disappointed but he moved on. “The men also need weapons training. Like the blades they wield, legionaries must be kept sharp.”
“Our Parthian hosts will not allow the distribution of weapons while on their land.”
“Then allow us to make rudes – practice swords. At first opportunity, purchase lumber and keep your king’s investment sound.”
Saikan examined Rufinius’s face and finally nodded. “I will see to it. But these … rudes … will be removed after each evening’s exercise until we better know the minds of your men. In skilled hands, a wood sword is still a weapon.”
Rufinius nodded. “Agreed.” He then turned his attention to the column. The men marched in the way of Roman legions, numbered in their centuries and contuberniums, mostly as his father would have wanted it. In total, there were 5,281 fighting men answering the roll calls – 5,281 men split between the correct number of sixty centuries and the cohort of reserves and various specialists. However, there were no drummers or pipers in the ranks, so aside from occasional cheering such as the burst directed at Rufinius, the army marched in eerie silence, with only the sound of sandals shuffling through sand and the breathing and snorting of horses.
After forty centuries had passed by, the baggage train and replacement cohort came into view, along with the escort of Parthian archers. These men kept to themselves, choosing not to fraternize with the Romans, whom they considered defeated and therefore not worthy of any association, or the Xiongnu, who they thought of as barbarians.
Though the legionaries carried nothing on their backs, the baggage train was still far larger than would have been considered customary for a single legion.
“What commerce is this?” Rufinius asked Saikan when he saw wagons carting lions, leopards, and a large black cat the size of a small lioness.
“We bring to Parthia a fine Han material called silk that is as smooth as warm cream against the skin. It is a material prized above all by women who rank it alongside pearls, and it is used to make dresses that leave nothing to the imagination. This is silk bartered for gold, which in turn is used to purchase exotic animals, perfumes, and spices. These items are then transported east and will ultimately find their way into the most exclusive markets in the Han cities. This is the route of which I have spoken already, and the value of the trade that we ply is worth an empire. You and your men may well find yourselves defending this route, or attacking it, depending on which nation holds sway over this stretch or that
, Han or Xiongnu.”
General Saikan’s words hardly penetrated Rufinius’s awareness, for he had seen Nonus riding a horse among the baggage wagons. He was directing a large squadron of overseers to their duties as if he were their master. And yet it was not this that had captured Rufinius’s attention so completely, nor the sight of Mena, his former slave riding in a cart as a person of importance might, but the three wagons Nonus accompanied, surrounded by Parthian archers. Each of these wagons was brightly painted in the Roman style and adorned with images of erotica – one featuring a redheaded woman, the other a black woman, and the third a woman of golden color. In each brightly colored wagon was imprisoned a handsome specimen captured from Crassus’s baggage train, pleasure whores that had previously belonged to Roman officers of high rank. One of these imprisoned women Rufinius knew well already – Lucia, her golden hair and skin impossible to miss though the covered wagon’s side opening was heavily barred.
“They are beauties, are they not?” said Saikan through Translator Bataar. “I see one in particular has caught your eye. She is spectacular. Her hair, though short, is like spun gold and her eyes burn a fierce cold blue. They are not unlike your own, though they are lit with a different fire.”
“Where are they bound, those wagons?” Rufinius asked, doing his best to keep his true interest hidden, for with the duties of running the army, he had not had time to claim Lucia as his servant. “For the markets of Han? If so, I would purchase – ”
“No. These treasures I have bought personally. They are destined for the amusement of Chanyu Zhizhi, a man of famed vigor. It is said he keeps more than a hundred concubines sore.” Saikan winked at Rufinius. “The King will be surprised and delighted by such exotica, I am sure.”
The news of Lucia’s fate brought a sharp pain to Rufinius’s chest as the dust pall cleared momentarily, allowing for a better view of the wagons. The object of his fascination turned in his direction, saw him and held up her hand on the barred opening – a disguised salutation. The sight of Lucia caused a tumble of emotions within Rufinius. He was thrilled that she was near, but also angered by the future procured for her, a product of his own failure to act.
“You know this woman already, I see,” ventured Saikan.
“We met once.”
“I am told she belonged to an important Roman officer, but Zhizhi will believe he is her first. The old women of the palace will see to the deception.”
“My Lord Saikan! It is a fine morning, is it not?” said Nonus as he rode up with several overseers, their hoods long dispensed with. “And look. It is none other than Rufinius Alexandricus, the tribune, out reviewing his troops.”
“Why are you here?” Rufinius asked, his desire to hack the man to pieces kept barely in check. He glared at Nonus. Then to Saikan he said, “I do not want this cunnus anywhere near the legionaries.”
“That is not a command you can give, Tribune,” Saikan cautioned. “This overseer came to us with a warning that Roman soldiers are deceptive. True or not, it confirmed what King Orodes had heard and so I have acquired him as my advisor.”
“When it comes to distrust, you will find this man peerless,” said Rufinius.
“Come Alexandricus, there is no need for such anxiety,” Nonus scoffed.
“Stay out of my way. You are here only because you see more opportunity with us than being sold in a slave market.”
“Of course that is true, primor. I won’t deny it. Perhaps I can be of service to you, also.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“Are you sure you are capable of whipping the horse when it needs to be thrashed?”
“Explain your meaning,” Rufinius demanded.
“It might be helpful to turn your back when onerous duty is called for. You have the men’s love. Give their fear to me.”
Rufinius glanced at General Saikan, who returned the look with nothing to offer.
“Stay beyond the reach of my sword arm, Nonus. You know I mean it.” Rufinius dug his heels into the mare to get her moving. He soon caught up with the wagon on which Lucia was chained, only to have his passage blocked by several Parthian archers and a wall of horseflesh. Rufinius wheeled his mare about and rode in a different direction. And though he could feel Lucia’s eyes on him, the tribune kept his own averted, for fear she would be alerted to his distress.
XXV
Rufinius cantered along the length of the column. Lost in his own thoughts, the tribune saw not the scowl presented to him by Optio Fabianus when he passed the man marching at the back of the century. Continuing on, he arrived eventually at the tip of the spear, where Petronius could be found when the primipilus was not elsewhere inspecting the column and making himself seen by the rank and file.
Petronius and his bodyguard were marching this morning, their horses being led by groomsmen off to one side of the column and ahead of the dust being raised.
Shadowing the primipilus was a squadron of Parthian horsemen, keeping an eye on him and his retinue for reasons beyond the understanding of Rufinius. Did the Parthians believe Petronius and his men would take off into the desert? Or perhaps lead the column astray? The tribune had long since stopped wondering on the actions of his captors for they were too often a mystery.
“Hail, Tribune!” said Petronius, saluting Rufinius, the sun catching his black skin where sweat had run rivers through the dust. “’Tis a fine morning to be leading the flower of Syria to a better dawn! Today, more than any other, I smell plunder in the breeze. Every step brings us closer.”
Rufinius attempted to put dark considerations of Lucia and Nonus from his mind and returned the salute with a grin. “The gods and I dearly hope that your nose can be relied on, Petro.”
The tribune dismounted as the primipilus waved to him and a groomsman appeared and took the reins of his horse. Rufinius stood and waited for the ranks of the leading century to approach, and when the legionaries drew abreast, he joined the first line. Beside him marched Dentianus, with Appias at his shoulder, and then Libo and Carbo. The final two places in the contubernium were occupied by two cousins from Antioch who kept to themselves.
“What troubles Alexandricus?” Dentianus inquired on seeing the darkness in Rufinius’s face that the tribune had not altogether managed to chase away. “If it’s a person, I am concerned for his health.”
Try though he might, Rufinius could not remove the picture of Lucia from his mind, trapped and caged in the manner of an animal.
“It seems my own position in the ranks is balanced by Nonus, who has the ear of our Xiongnu masters,” Rufinius finally managed to say.
“Nonus, the purveyor of shade?” Dentianus asked.
“The same.”
“What is his role?” Appias wanted to know.
“Head trouble maker,” Rufinius said.
“There may be another standing in line before him,” said Carbo. “Fabianus. His fear of leaving the gods behind hasn’t gone away. There are others who believe as he does. There’s much disquiet among them.”
“I can do no more about it than I have already done,” Rufinius told him. “Inaction is the enemy. Marching is not enough and ramparts and trenches are considered unnecessary activity while we’re on friendly ground. General Saikan has given permission for rudes to be fashioned. Once swords are placed in our hands, even wooden ones, the optio’s mood will change.”
“Fabianus has taken to grumbling anew,” said Dentianus. “You know of his worriment.”
“Are we gossiping old women now?”
“I’m just telling you what I am hearing.”
Carbo agreed. “Maybe he thinks he should have been the one to receive the feather-plumed gold galea?”
“No matter what galea is on my head, this says I’m a slave,” said Rufinius curling a finger around the iron torc on his neck and giving it a tug. “No better and no worse than any man in the rank and file.”
“But you do get a horse, primor,” suggested Carbo, “Even if it is a short fat
cunnus with fur that looks ravaged by moths.”
Rufinius grinned though he was in no mind to.
“The other big concern is Appias here,” said Libo.
“Me?” said Appias.
Libo ignored the historian and spoke instead to Rufinius. “He marches in a contubernium as a legionary but, of course, he is a pretender in our ranks. I guarantee you that he will wield a sword like a four-year-old. First skirmish and our historian’s a dead man.”
“Who said anything about being a legionary?” said Appias. “I fight with a stylus, not steel.”
“You’ll learn how to fight with a gladius, Appias, or you will travel in the baggage train with the women,” Rufinius said. “The man fighting beside you depends on your sword arm, as you depend on his. There will soon be rudes passed around and then, at the end of every day’s march, Libo will teach you one end of a sword from the other.”
*
Thirteen days after leaving the slave camp, the mighty Tigris was forded. Many Parthian villagers came to see the sight of thousands of western soldiers bent under the yoke of King Orodes being loaded into a flotilla of barges. Along with the Romans, the Xiongnu horsemen and their Parthian escort were soon all brought safely across.
General Saikan saw to the purchase of hard lumber for the manufacture of rudes – practice swords. And soon the last rays of the sun were met with the clatter of wooden swords, thousands of legionaries engaged in thrust, parry, and stab.
*
Nonus waited in the shadows for the guards to pass around the wineskin. He waited some more for the wine and the poppy milk mixed with it to take effect and soon the men were asleep on the sand, stretched out as if felled in battle. The night was half over and the sun would soon be climbing into the sky, chasing away darkness. Time was short. Nearby, a lion caught his scent and gave a low grunt.
Field of Mars (The Complete Novel) Page 25