“The Gulf is a fine thing, though,” I said, and we eyed the blue, strange stretch of water supposedly reaching south for a gigantic sea that reached far across Midgard. “Few Germani have seen such.”
“Father was right,” Sejanus agreed. “There is a vast world out here, and riches can be made by knowing it best.”
I snorted. He had made all sorts of plans for investing into traders of the local markets. He gazed at his Praetorians who stood around a huge tent with a silver pennant, set amid the camp that was busily being built. “The cohorts are eager to start the battle. They are terrified the enemy might take off. I hope Gaius makes up his mind soon.”
As if by magic, Gaius stepped out of the tent inside the castra. We couldn’t make out the face, but it was him, for our men surrounded him, taller than the rest.
He was armed and armored in a golden studded pteruges skirt, the leather strips reaching down to his knees, and he wore bronze and gold armor. He gleamed as he spied us on the hillside, and hiked to us. It took time, passing from the camp, but he, the Guards, and a host of Praetorians moved around him, and I assumed Lollius and the others were still with the King of Nabataea in the tent.
Gaius finally got to us and looked south, puffing with the effort. He looked slightly ill, supremely tired, but was in a good mood. He appraised the Nabataean host below, and then frowned at the tents of the enemy. “Women?”
I nodded. “Yes, women. Women follow most armies to war.”
“Whores?” he wondered.
“Some, but most are families of the warriors. Some are captives. Others are just people hoping for new life,” I said. “Who are they, by the way?”
“Just people,” he muttered. “Children too.”
“Women follow men, children follow women,” I told him. “Yes, they are there.”
“Children are prized slaves,” Sejanus confirmed. “Most will be spared.”
Gaius gave him an evil eye, and then nodded at the enemy. “We’ll make a short work of the enemy as soon as we have found someone to talk to. Aretas claimed they want no discussions, but with our arrival they are changing their minds. There is a trade village very near and some of the enemy know it. That’s where we will speak. I sent men to ask them to send someone.”
“And if they won’t heed you? When will we attack?” I asked him.
He smiled grimly. “If they will not surrender, immediately. The men are building a castrum, but it is just a show. We shall go in like lions if things go sour.”
Sejanus lifted his eyebrow. The legion camp was being made ready, but it was clear the army was readying weapons, and the centurions were rushing around the busy men, speaking and clapping the occasional back with a vine stick, or an encouraging hand.
“The enemy won’t expect it,” I agreed. “A legion needs no rest, and they will expect it to sleep before slaughter.”
He grinned, and had likely come up with that plan that very morning, or his legatus had. “Indeed. We will go to Petra soon, and then back to Antioch, though I do love the wondrous sights,” he said dreamily. “I do wonder about them.”
I smiled. “No trip to Egypt, then?” He had toyed with the idea.
“None,” Gaius said tiredly. “I am no Alexander. Not sure Augustus would approve. It’s not my province, is it? And I need to deal with Armenia, after all. We shall crush the enemy here, have the Parthians watch, and then we shall have to get back fast to make sure they understand I mean business. They might not have a hand in this affair, but they are watching, and knew about it, and are taking an advantage.” He clapped my back. “The Nabataean king has invited us to visit the great Malichi, but we shall move on soon after.” He frowned as he stared at the thousands strong enemy army and their families. “When Tiberius took me to the North, I didn’t see any battles. Only prisoners and slaves.”
“The legatus will deal with the battle,” Sejanus suggested. “You just have to watch. You have given us victory already by making all the hard decisions. Just be brutal, lord.”
He gave Sejanus a rueful smile, and nodded gratefully. “That’s what Hraban said. Back via Jerusalem, then, after the brutality.”
“Truly a long way from home, isn’t it?” answered Sejanus. “And yet, we must go through Jerusalem. Some say there is again trouble.”
Gaius nodded. “We shall be seen, but we shall also be discreet. Not flaunt our power more than necessary. Varus’s lessons are still in fresh memory over there; I am sure of it. They won’t dare to raise their heads, but we won’t offer prayers there, and let the Jews keep their face.”
“Eminently wise,” said Sejanus. He turned and we saw a man riding for us, with a servant who had horses in tow. “Here is Lollius.”
“Good Lollius,” Gaius said dryly. “Always there to help. He looks like he is in a hurry.” In the camp, there was also a flurry of activity, as Aretas could be seen, as well as many of the closest men of Gaius. “Something is happening.”
Gaius wasn’t happy to see Lollius. Ever since he had made the decision to go South, Lollius’s moderating influence had been heavy on Gaius. There were bitter men trying to hurt Marcus to gain favor. Only perhaps King Juba II was above such schemes. There had been rumors of Lollius offering to fetch the head of Tiberius after our trouble in Samos, and that had made Gaius writhe with anger. While most assuredly not true, he didn’t want to be tied to such lies, and the name of Lollius had made him sour for days after.
Marcus got there, and smiled politely. “The enemy has sent envoys.”
“Already?” Gaius asked.
“They will meet us in the town.” He nodded to the west. There, nestled on a river’s bend was a trade town, a large one. “The White Village they call it.” The town was dotted with tents and brown and white buildings, and Gaius wasted no time. He climbed onto a horse.
“What are they called? These people,” Gaius asked Lollius, as Publius also joined us, riding clumsily.
“People of many tribes, under one rulership,” Marcus said, pronouncing it like locals. “Himrayites, Sabaeans, but mainly Carneites. The latter lead, and are likely some faction of the tribe that has been pushed out by the rest. Some rogue prince or another lead them. There were twenty thousand of them, but thousands have passed to the northeast in smaller groups. Only this party of ten thousand with their families remain. They have a bitter grudge against Nabataea.”
It was a major threat, I decided.
The land south of the Arabian Peninsula, the land that Romans called Arabia Felix, was a mighty land full of riches, old kingdoms, and ancient people, and the Roman ally of Nabataea had become a favorite target for the various raiders from the South. Lollius was right. The South hated Nabataea and Rome as well.
Gaius shrugged, and cast a final look at the enemy. Children were rushing between tents. He hesitated, and turned the horse. “No wonder, since the Nabataeans guided an army of Augustus from Egypt against the nation of Saba years past. Such insults linger forever. Gallus, was it?”
They had, and it did.
“It was Gallus, yes,” Lollius said.
We rode off, as Lollius was giving his hushed advice to Gaius, who was nodding softly, keeping an eye out on locals who were calling out to him and making signs that we took to be kind, grateful greetings. In all fairness, they might have been cursing us for dogs and rats. Sejanus and fifty Praetorians surrounded us, and then when we entered The White Village, we, the Guards rode as close to Gaius as an infant to a tit. We pushed into the streets, eyes sharp, spears ever at ready. No togae could be seen in these lands, chainmail and helmets clanked, and the Tall Ones made an impressive show of force to the locals.
We rode past a mighty market, and headed towards an area lined with blue and white tents, and what were clearly better quality buildings with pillars and even gold on the doors. There, we found a house with a portico and tall walls, and went inside. There hunting dogs ran to greet us. The King of Nabataea was standing by a doorway to a large room, looking exasperated.
“Your highness,” the Nabataean droned. “They insist they should keep the land they took from us this past month.”
Gaius hesitated. “They—”
Lollius intercepted him. “Shall have to deal with the legion if they do not withdraw.”
Publius smiled and spoke to Lollius. “If only you were as adamant with the Parthians as you are with these cow-herding peasants.”
“The cow herding peasants,” Lollius said dryly, “do not have thirty thousand horse archers. The Parthians do.”
The two didn’t get along. Publius had taken a protective, but also laid back, role with Gaius, where Lollius was still, perhaps in his mind, dealing with a young boy. Lollius controlled all the scribes of Gaius, all his officia, so he, an old man, must have been also tired.
Gaius smiled gratefully. “Enough. Show us in.” Aretas saw Gaius coming, and bowed, and nodded towards the interior. We followed him there and found a vast hall with light filtering in from a hole in the roof. The room reeked of smoke, and most of us coughed. Gaius walked to a seat in the middle of the long wall, on which was painted a mind-boggling scene of undersea beauty, complete with schools of fish, sharks, and tentacled creatures I had never imagined could exist.
The Nabataean warriors, four of them, one a local chief with a brutal scar on his arm and three missing fingers, was scowling at what I took to be the Southerners, enemies of Rome, enemies of Nabataea. They were wearing dirty robes, tunics, and no weapons, but silver and gold glittered on their fingers. One, a young man with a stubble of beard and black eyes stood straight and took some steps for Gaius until I put my hand on my sword. He gave me a brutal scowl, and held his head high. He was likely the prince of the enemy, judging by his nobility and bravery. He was a head taller than the rest.
“This matter,” a Nabataean spoke with heavy Latin, “is a serious one. “It involves—”
A translator was pulled forward by the tall enemy, who grunted angrily and snapped his fingers to shut the Nabataean up.
“The moon-god Almaquah,” said the tall prince with golden bands on his wrists and ears, shaking with emotion, his eyes pure ebon anger, “tells us we have not lost a war.” The translator spoke for the man, near simultaneously. “That we are negotiating, is enough of a humiliation to our god, but he respects Rome. And yet, I do not know why Rome is here. I have no idea. The last time a legion from Egypt tried to take Ma’rib, they left their bones across the coast. We have not come here to ask Rome to go away, while we fight the Nabataean dogs. We know that is not possible. But we would and we shall keep what we have taken, in exchange for ending the war. We have fulfilled our oaths.”
“Oaths?” Gaius asked. “To whom?”
The man said nothing.
“I am no Gallus,” Gaius said evenly, mentioning the name of the Roman who had failed in the bizarre war he waged in the South. “And you are right. I shall not stand down.” He sounded confident, but I saw he was also trembling, and his voice was unsteady. He shook his head as if to chase the fear off. “I am here to make sure no enemy disturbs our southern flank, while we gear for war with Parthia.” I saw the Parthian in the room, and his eyes widened, before he left silently. Gaius went on. "I extend a little finger alone this way, Lord of the South, but that is heavy enough to squash your pitiful few thousand troops. You know this full well. You shall not keep your stolen lands and goods.”
“Well said,” the King of Nabataea chuckled. “I insist the land be returned and coin paid—”
“No coin, though the land must be returned,” said Lollius, and silence grew in the tent. Gaius looked down, then at his hands.
Lollius’s habit of helping Gaius bordered often on embarrassing him.
“Coin is to be paid,” Gaius said softly, making Lollius twitch. “And you shall depart with your troops and families in peace, making no other threats or war. I will let my advisor Marcus Lollius discover the proper compensation to be paid, but one will be had, nonetheless.”
“I have a figure in my mind,” the King of the Nabataeans said smugly.
The tall Carneite stiffened. “We have no home to go to. My people are exiles. So, we shall keep the land.”
“No,” said Gaius. “Your troubles in the South are no affair of mine, and I care not.”
The Carneites looked livid. Their faces twitched with anger, and the thought of abandoning their months long war for no profits and indeed losses without so much as lifting a sword to test Roman blood in battle, irked them greatly.
Lollius took a step closer to him. “They have to take something home,” Lollius was mouthing to Gaius. “If they must pay for peace with their kings back home, they need something.”
Gaius shook his head. Lollius retreated. The silence was heavy enough to deafen a man.
Finally, the prince shook his head, face pale with emotion. “No coin, and no land will be given. We shall find war instead.”
Gaius’s eyes flashed. “War? Indeed. Sejanus!”
“Lord?”
“Send a man to give the order to the legatus, and make sure the Nabataeans are ready,” he said. “And Corvus?”
“Lord?” I asked.
I watched him, and knew he was thinking of my words.
Be brutal.
“Kill this man;” he said. He nodded to the translator, and spoke, his voice nervous. “No need to translate that.”
The translator stammered, and stepped away. The prince frowned, and asked him frantic questions.
I stared at Gaius. There was a feverish look in his eyes. He did what he thought Augustus would do. “Gaius?” Lollius whispered. “What—”
Gaius smiled, but it was the smile of a shocked man, almost as if he was the one who had been stabbed. He was pale as a cloud. And yet, he gave the order again. “Kill these men.”
I grasped my spear. Behind me, the Germani bodyguards followed suit and rushed forward, charging the prince and his men. His mouth hung open, and hardening my heart, I thrust the spear at the man. It sunk to his gut, he mewled with a pained surprise, clawing at the shaft, and then shrieked like an animal as I twisted the weapon. He fell in a helpless heap. The Germani charged the other men, slaying them efficiently. One had a spear in his back, and stumbled his way out of the room, only to die, his legs thrumming on marble, a sword in his back, crudely being twisted back and forth by Wandal.
Outside, screams echoed.
We all turned to look at Gaius. Even the Nabataean king was shocked. Gaius was shaking, and Lollius moved to him, whispering. I pulled the spear from the dying man’s belly, and kneeled as I pulled Nightbright. I pushed it to the man’s chest, and felt dim anger at the death. The other Germani, all tall, wide men were doing the same effortlessly, but all were disturbed by the sudden, uncharacteristic order of Gaius.
Augustus had done far worse. Gaius was learning. He didn’t want their leader rallying the enemy.
“Lollius,” he whispered, eying the dead men. “Have them buried, and then join me on the hill where you found me.”
“Yes, lord,” Lollius said, looking nervous. “I shall make sure there are plenty of guards on the perimeters as well. We cannot trust these men don’t have allies here. They will know they died.”
“Yes, yes. And Lollius?” Gaius said as he placed a hand over his. “Do not cut in again when I am speaking. I love you like I do my father, but I will not be cut off again. If I must rule as Augustus, I must be allowed to speak.” He pointed outside. “Make sure the Parthian sees the corpses. And then make sure he joins me on the hillside to see what happens.”
Lollius bowed, gave me a long look, and left.
Gaius got up, and nodded to me to follow him outside. I did.
“Gods, help me, but I am never going to sleep again,” he whispered.
“You will, one day,” I said. “The Parthians won’t forget this. They know what you can do.”
“Can I do this?”
I nodded. “Come, and see war as it is.”
***
> The legion marched for the surprised army. The cohorts spread as they stomped over the hill, and marched down. There was no hesitation in their splendid movements as they spread into a triplex acies, marching indomitably for the enemy below the hill. The Aquila was high above the first cohort, and the legatus was amid his men, as the expert centurions and the optio behind each unit kept the men moving. Their tribunes and other officers each had their duty.
Killing, for them, was just business.
For Gaius, it was a necessity that haunted him terribly. You could see it in his face.
Gaius sat with us on his horse, on the highest point of the hill. The two alae of Syrians had left, and were riding far around the enemy to make sure none escaped. With us was a young soldier with the personal standard of Gaius, the twenty Guards were around us and the Praetorians stood just below us in ranks, looking at the backs of the legion’s last lines. There were many around the hill as well.
It was late afternoon, and in an hour or two, it would all be over. I was sure of it.
All of it.
Wandal eyed me and shook his head at the swarms of Nabataean riders and infantry who rushed to the sides of the legions, a thousand each, gleaming with chain, silver, and gold. “Splendid looking, but rabble, eh?” he said softly.
I nodded. They would do. The enemy was sleepy. The fact that their leaders had not returned, and that they didn’t expect an attack was evident. Hundreds, and perhaps even thousands of men were watching the Roman army spreading into battle formation, but some seemed not too concerned, going about their business like usual. Perhaps they thought the negotiations had succeeded, and their enemy was going to do them homage. Some, the smarter ones, were running, calling out, but many more were staring at the hand of death with impassive, shocked looks on their faces. Herds of cattle and hundreds of slaves were tethered in the open. Shepherds and dogs were moving nervously.
Then, finally, a horn rang brazenly in the camp.
It was followed by chaos.
Hundreds of the enemy warriors ran about screaming warnings. Horses were rushing back and forward in corrals, like waves, many breaking free. Hundreds, then thousands of people appeared from tents, having likely been in the midst of a frugal meal. The gleam of spears points and swords glittered like a wave kissed by Sunna, as the enemy tribes and leaders tried to make sense of what was happening
The Bane of Gods: A Novel of Germania and Rome (Hraban Chronicles Book 5) Page 25