Eagles of Dacia

by S. J. A. Turney

  ‘Not really,’ she said rather blandly. Rufinus had been silently urging her to downplay his position and now that she had, he felt oddly hurt that he had been so easily dismissed.

  ‘Long way from your home,’ Rufinus noted, cursing himself for his total lack of ability with small talk.

  ‘Good posting, though,’ the one called Marcus said. ‘Better than Apulum or Micia.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘Got every amenity, this place.’

  Rufinus was about to ask what those amenities might possibly be when they door opened behind them, and a voice called his name.

  ‘Rufinus? You here?’

  He turned to see Cassius standing in the doorway. ‘I’d not thought to speak to you again.’

  ‘I had trouble finding you, but someone saw your dog.’

  ‘Lucky it was Acheron, then. I gather he’s far from the only one of his breed at Germisara. We thought it best to stay out of the way.’

  ‘A long way out of the way,’ Cassius nodded. ‘Get your horse and meet me at the far side of the fort in a quarter of an hour.’

  And with that he was gone. Rufinus stared at the door, which quickly rattled closed.

  ‘Friends in high places, eh?’ murmured one of the men. ‘Legionary centurions, eh?’

  ‘A friend,’ replied Rufinus, and to Senova: ‘you’d best come on.’

  She turned with a frown. ‘He never mentioned me. Just you and a horse.’

  ‘I can’t leave you alone.’

  The men at the bar laughed. ‘We’ll look after her.’

  That’s half what I’m afraid of, thought Rufinus, but Senova was nodding. ‘I’ve not heard my home tongue in years, Gnaeus, and I’m going to be here chatting for a while. You toddle off and play with your centurion friend. Luca will look after me.’

  Rufinus bit down on a reply that held scathing comments about the ability of slave boys to save headstrong women from a gang of hairy soldiers. Somehow, he knew that this was one of those arguments he simply was not going to win.

  ‘Alright. I’ll be back… I don’t know. I’ll be back when I’m back.’

  ‘If I’m asleep, don’t wake me.’

  And with that he was dismissed. He stood for a moment feeling horribly out of place – a Hispanic-born Roman, listening to Britons in Dacia. However did he get into these messes? He bade a weak farewell to the three men, then to Senova and finally to Luca, feeling rather foolish showing such regard for a slave he didn’t even own, then he strode from the room. He held the door for a long moment, looking meaningfully at Acheron, who dithered, undecided, but then followed him out into the late afternoon.

  Around the back of the mansio he found the stables and retrieved Atalanta from a slave who was busily feeding her. He thanked the slave, then cursed himself for doing so, thanks to Senova’s ongoing influence, mounted and rode her out and through the small settlement in the opposite direction to the legionary camp. It was still very pleasantly warm, and with the wide valley the sun was still well in evidence. Warily, watching for anyone who might be observing him suspiciously, he rode around the village and up the slope, around the corner of the fort. He finally spotted Cassius waiting for him by a small stand of trees and, urging Atalanta on and with Acheron close by, he trotted over to the centurion.

  ‘What’s all this about?’

  ‘Hush. Ride with me.’

  The centurion put his heels to the horse’s flank, and started off down a narrow road heading off north along a smaller side valley. A good road led this way, well-trodden, so wherever they were bound, it was somewhere oft-visited. Rufinus followed, fascinated and worried in equal measure. Slowly the fort receded into the distance.

  ‘Where are we going?’ he asked finally, breaking the silence.

  ‘I’ve a pass from the tribune to use the thermal complex nearby. It’s about four miles away. Three now,’ he corrected, looking back at the fort. ‘I wanted to talk to you. Without prying ears around.’

  Rufinus looked around in the late afternoon light. The sun was now sinking into the western hills, but it would be light for more than an hour yet. Maybe even two. Still, it would be dark when they returned, he presumed, so it must be important. At least out here, a mile from Germisara and in a wide, open, apparently uninhabited valley with not a soul to be seen, there was no chance of such ‘prying ears’.

  ‘What is it, Cassius?’

  The centurion, riding alongside him, looked suddenly extremely doubtful. ‘You were in the legions?’ he said quietly.

  ‘Yes. Tenth Gemina. You know that.’

  ‘So you know all about oaths and loyalty. The sacramentum we all take. I am extremely uncomfortably spreading dangerous words about my commander.’

  Albinus. Rufinus felt his nerves tighten. He urged the man to go on.

  ‘This is not gossiping in the forum, Cassius. This is you and me. Just you and me.’

  ‘And Cleander. I’ve never met the man, but everything they say about him is terrible. I don’t like potentially selling out my commander to a man such as he, even if there is good reason.’

  Good reason. Rufinus felt achievement thrilling through him at last. But he had to keep this going…

  ‘Cassius, I was sent here by Cleander, but I’m a praetorian. I serve the interests of the emperor, and the emperor alone. It is because of potential threats to the divine Commodus I am here. And the only information I am interested in is just that. I don’t care what Clodius Albinus thinks of Cleander. Frankly, he can’t have a much lower opinion of him than I do. Cleander is a bag of shit. This is all about the emperor, and it is to him you took your oath. To him, Rome and the eagle, not to the governor.’

  Cassius nodded slowly. He still looked unconvinced, but as Rufinus opened his mouth to speak again, the centurion held up a hand to stop him.

  ‘I think it’s about the gold, Rufinus.’

  The gold. He felt his heart flutter again. He would have something. Something good to take back, which he might be able to barter for Publius’ freedom. He waited. Pushing Cassius might just make him clam up.

  ‘There were discrepancies,’ the centurion said finally. ‘In gold production at Alburnus Maior. I mean big ones. It’s normal for a governor to rake off a little of the profits for his own gain, and I know that the administration overlooks it. That’s one of the perks of being the governor. It’s pretty much the only reason why nobles from Rome come out to Dacia in the first place. It’s one of the most lucrative positions in the empire. But the discrepancies at Alburnus Maior went far beyond a little rake off.’

  Rufinus felt his pulse quicken. Clodius Albinus was stealing from the treasury? In large quantities? That might just be enough, if he had some evidence.

  ‘How do you know?’ he asked. ‘I mean, you’re not in the administration, after all.’

  Cassius looked a little embarrassed suddenly. ‘I have a friend on the procurator’s staff. He’s ex-Thirteenth. One of my men who took a leg wound. Couldn’t go on in active service, but he makes a damn good clerk, so he moved into the procurator’s office but he’s still on the legion payroll. The procurator had become aware of the mine discrepancies, you see, and word filtered down to me. Put me in a bit of an awkward position. The two most powerful men in Apulum. And I knew something I wasn’t supposed to.’

  ‘So how would I get access to the records?’ asked Rufinus eagerly, earning a glance of warning from the centurion.

  ‘You don’t. That’s the thing. The procurator set things in motion to open an investigation into the matter. He was all ready to move in, but then suddenly he fell very, very ill. Died the next morning. There’s supposedly another procurator on his way to Dacia to take up the post, but I’d wager that any record of the proposed investigation has long gone from the office. And suddenly the governor was very interested in the soldiers working in the procurator’s office. I’ve spent months now watching my back, waiting for the accusation. Somehow it seems my friend has been overlooked, maybe becau
se he’s still on legion lists and not the administrative staff, and my name has not come up, but I’m expecting it any time. And if you go and stir the pot up, not only will you probably wake up dead the next morning, but you might land me in the shit too.’

  Rufinus shook his head. ‘I can keep you out of it. Especially if you tell me who it is in the procurator’s office that connects you. Then I can’t even cause trouble accidentally.’

  ‘No. The procurator’s office is out of bounds for you, Rufinus. You’ll have to find another way, but I’m not having you accidentally unearth something that gets me killed or dishonourably discharged. This time next year Albinus will be gone to another posting and I’ll probably have a good, honourable commander again. I just have to bide my time and stay safe. However, if you can find a way that doesn’t involve the procurator’s office, and stay well out if it but still get evidence for your master, then that is a victory for everyone, I would say.’

  A thought occurred to Rufinus. ‘Tribune Celer is in on it, isn’t he?’

  Cassius shrugged, but his face answered the question in the positive regardless.

  ‘I thought so,’ Rufinus said. ‘He was all very polite with me and listening to my advice and so on until Sarmizegetusa. Then Daizus overheard us talking.’

  Cassius went pale instantly.

  ‘Not you,’ Rufinus added quickly. ‘You didn’t say anything. Nothing incriminating, anyway. And as far as I can see you’re still trusted, so you’re fine. But Daizus knows about me and why I’m here. About Cleander and Albinus and Niger. He ran straight to the tribune. They were together at Ulpia Traiana – Senova saw them. And then suddenly Daizus steps up his campaign against me from just pissing in my bed to knifing me in the back, and though there’s plenty of doubt over the whole thing, the tribune demotes me and promises me hard justice from Albinus. It all fits. Shit!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Something else just occurred to me as well. Back in Viminacium, I met the governor of Upper Moesia. What was his name? Something-or-other Capella…’

  ‘Quintus Naevius Capella,’ Cassius offered.

  ‘That’s the one. Like a walking cadaver. Face like a half-starved vulture. I wondered at why he would let the governor of another province recruit his manpower and take them away. Capella told me that he and Albinus had an arrangement. Could he be paying the Moesian governor for manpower?’

  Cassius shook his head. ‘I don’t see why. To be honest, I thought that the ban on recruitment among Dacians following the troubles was a bit much. Most of them are perfectly loyal, as you’ve seen. That might be part of this, but I suspect something bigger.’

  Rufinus nodded. It did sound a little small for a man stealing large amounts of gold from the imperial treasury. Another thought occurred to him.

  ‘Where did you say the discrepancies were found?’

  ‘Alburnus Maior. It’s the biggest site for mines in the province. Churns out gold like horses churn out shit. I’ve been there a few times. It’s unbelievable, the work there.’

  Rufinus nodded. ‘Is it easy to get to?’

  Cassius’ brow rose. ‘Easy enough. Follow the valley west from Apulum up through Ampelum where the gold route splits and there’s a small garrison. Then keep going as the route turns north and into the mountains. It’s about fifty miles in total, I reckon. And the roads are good, since they’re well-maintained for the gold shipments. But you can’t go there at the moment.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Cassius tapped his temple with his forefinger. Think back to what you heard when you first arrived in Dacia, Rufinus. We were left behind in Drobeta to mop up the remnants because the governor had had word of a local rising near the gold mines. I don’t know what’s happened since then, but either the mines are in lands swarming with rebels or the Thirteenth has moved in and dealt with them. Either way, they’re going to be surrounded by either angry Dacians or men loyal to the governor. I wouldn’t give a coin for your chances.’

  Rufinus fretted. ‘But that’s something else that fits into this mess too. Suspicious that with all this you say about the mines and the governor, suddenly there’s an extra rebellion near the mines and Albinus rushes to deal with it. I think I need to get into Alburnus Maior, unless you’re willing to change your mind about the procurator’s office.’

  Cassius shook his head. ‘That’s far too dangerous for us all.’

  There was a long, uncomfortable silence, and finally Rufinus sighed. ‘Thank you, Cassius. Thank you for telling me. You’re a good man, and I’ll make sure that whatever happens does not reflect on you.’

  Cassius nodded. ‘There are times when duty becomes a burden hard to bear, young Rufinus. Pray you don’t reach that point.’

  Rufinus gestured to Cassius with his left hand, displaying the marked and scarred fingers, missing all five nails. ‘I discovered that long ago, my friend.’

  They rode on for some time in silence, though a more pleasant one as the sun finally dipped behind the hills, and as they reached a marker pointing the way to a place called Thermae Dodonae Rufinus cleared his throat ‘Isn’t it going to be a little late for bathing? They shut the baths in Rome at dusk.’

  ‘This place is a little different,’ Cassius smiled as they climbed the side road toward the collection of buildings on the hill. Rufinus noted three things in quick succession as his friend fell silent: that the smoke from chimneys and flues was thick and billowing above the complex, suggesting many, many heated rooms, that the whole place was aglow like a giant oil lamp, meaning that everywhere was occupied and open, and that the sound of a dozen harmonious melodies played on a dozen different instruments wafted out across the valley.

  ‘What is this place?’ Rufinus murmured in wonder.

  ‘One of the best secrets of Dacia, and why Germisara is such a popular posting,’ grinned Cassius.

  Rufinus opened the door to the room in the mansio at Germisara and staggered slightly, falling against the door frame and giggling like an idiot.

  ‘Where in Hurod have you been,’ whispered an angry, concerned voice from the darkness.

  What was a Hurod? He had to stop Senova talking to barbarians if he ever hoped to understand her.

  ‘Spa. Baths. North. Place called… Therm… Therm… Threm something.’

  ‘You’re drunk.’

  ‘Atalanta noticed that when I rode her into a tree.’

  ‘Stupid. And dangerous, given your history. I need you to take a few days off now.’

  ‘I pissy ee. Dunno. Not problem.’ He chuckled as he tried to remove his sock and fell onto the other bed. For a moment, he contemplated trying to climb into hers, but then decided against it. He was almost certainly going to be sick shortly, and women, he was led to believe, did not like being vomited on a lot.

  ‘So Cassius took you out to get drunk?’

  ‘S’bit more than that. But Thermae… Thermae-whatever is a really good place. Best baths ’ve been to out. Side Rome,’ he added, then hiccupped. ‘Bet… even than Aquae Calidae back home.

  ‘Good wine, clearly.’

  ‘Liss… listen,’ he said, swallowing noisily as he sat on the edge of the bed. ‘Cassius told me…’ he made a noise that sounded like bluerk and swallowed again. ‘Told me everything. S’about gold.’

  ‘Gold?’

  ‘Mines at Alburn… at some place north.’

  ‘Alburnus Maior,’ Senova said quietly. ‘Gnaeus, I think there might be trouble brewing.’

  Fnarf, was all he could say, then made a lip-flapping deflating noise as he lay face down on his bed.

  ‘Gnaeus, I heard things from the locals. They say the troubles up around the mines aren’t rebellious Dacians. They reckon they’re Sarmatians.’

  ‘Know… know how to kick Sarmatian bastards now. Easy.’ He giggled. Finally, he began to remove his tunic. ‘Liss…. Listen. I know we not married. An s’odd. I know. But…’ He made a hopeful noise.

  From the other side of him a young voice said ‘Mistr
ess said no rumpy if you were drunk, sir.’

  Rufinus’ heart nearly punched through his chest. He’d forgotten Luca was there.

  With a deflated sigh, he passed out.

  XII – The white general

  It was hot and blue with not a cloud in the sky as the cohort arrived at Apulum. Rufinus would have appreciated the place a lot more had he not been astoundingly hungover at the time. Senova had been neither kind, nor understanding. How the hangover had quite happened was beyond Rufinus. He had intended to have only one cup of wine in the remarkable bath complex of Thermae Dodonae, and Cassius had pressed him as to the reason. Still somewhat embarrassed to reveal such personal weakness, Rufinus had been reticent, with the result that the veteran had plied him with more wine and pressed further. Much of the following evening was a blur, though the place would most certainly go down in Rufinus’ books as the best spa he had ever visited. He was not entirely sure whether he had, in the end, opened up and told Cassius about his past and the addictions to which he’d been prey, and he was now in the odd situation of not being able to ask without opening up further anyway. Fortunately he was saved such weird conversations as Cassius returned to duty on the march and Rufinus returned to his exile in Senova’s carriage.

  Twenty miles northeast they rumbled in the searing sun, along the Marisus valley to the capital of the province.

  Apulum stood on a low rise that dominated a wide plain, the fortress of the Thirteenth Gemina as powerful as any legionary fortress Rufinus had seen – and these days that included quite a number. But Apulum was different from the others. It shone. The walls were of a stone white enough that they flashed in the sun’s rays. The civilian town clustered around the base of the place was pretty impressive, too, well-appointed and thriving. Oddly for a Roman town’s organisation, the great river Marisus ran past a mile distant from the centre, a small port there connected with the town by a busy road.

  The cohort crunched and rumbled into the town, along the main street and toward the impressive white gate of the fortress on the hill. Rufinus frowned as he squinted from the carriage window in the bright sunshine. Those walls were blinding. Either the builders here had found the whitest stone he had ever seen, or they were regularly whitewashed to increase the effect. One thing was certain, Apulum stood out.