by Ken Farmer
"Aye," replied the Praetor. "No army can survive being slashed from both sides, and certainly not a rabble of slaves..."
The night coming on, the two nobles eventually excused themselves and collected their two men, walking in the coolness of the evening back to the ship. "The man is a fool," said Julius. "He knows nothing of his opponents, but assumes that their leader is a dullard good only for the gladiator pit." He paused, then said, "I insist that you take your rest on the ship this night, rather than the comfort of an inn. There are only pallets, but the lessened comfort comes with little chance of your throat being opened in the night. We will pole out and anchor away from the wharf."
Chapter 37
Caius had prepared a goodly meal, as the sun was touching the far horizon to the west, and both nobles were sitting in chairs on the forepeak. Julius had sent word for the men to return from their pleasures before the last light, and now all were onboard, making their own relaxation, either below or in the waist. The Petrel had been pushed away from the wharf, a distance of about fifty strides, and the anchor stone heaved overboard to hold their position.
"Your sense of misgiving is palpable, even to myself, Capitaneus," commented the noble from Rome. He gestured along the deck. "And your crew also has some feeling of it. Or, mayhap your men always take their leisure with their arms at the ready?"
"We have kept our beings on this side of the Styx by never allowing our guard to fall while in a strange port."
"Nay. It is more than that. It was with some bitterness that you spoke of the assumptions by the Legate, as to the competency of the slave leader on the mountain."
Julius just sat for a while, giving thought to his next words, then, "Might I speak of a matter in confidence - one that is of some disquiet to my family?"
Caesar looked at his host for a long moment, then reached down to pick up the jug, filling his cup again. "You risked your ship and life to take me from the pirates, when few others could be found to venture the effort. I give oath that what you say will be held in my being - at least until the lord of Hades requires me to speak before his throne."
"Do you remember the large Thracian that was in my crew on the voyage to Syrna?"
"Aye. Indeed, I was in wonder at his absence..." The man stopped his words, apparently because of the stunning thought that suddenly appeared. Julius just watched for the moment as disbelief fought with realization. Then, "Nay! By the fetid backside of Jupiter!" He stopped his flow of words, realizing that even a man on the wharves would hear. Softly, but with intensity, he said, "It cannot be..."
"Aye. Such was my thoughts when first told, but it is true. I will speak for my friend, and say that the matter was the evil deed of another..." The sun was long departed before Julius had ended the story. "...Melglos is no fool, and has a distaste for Rome, if not for Romans. As you saw, he is a fighter that few men could give halt to." He lifted the cup to give nourishment to his throat, now becoming raspy from the hours of talk, the realized that it was empty. "The wonder for the moment, is of his ability to command men. Of such, I cannot say."
Caesar was almost invisible in the darkness, but seemed to have little desire for sleep. "Slaves would seem to be a poor levy with which to make a Legion, but..." He stopped, then asked, "How many Gladiators escaped the school?"
"About seventy. Mayhap a few more."
"That would be a hard kernel around which to form units, but seventy men, even if veterans, cannot fight the three thousand of Clodius."
Julius shook his head uselessly in the dark. "You would be correct, but the band on the mountain has far more than the escaped Gladiators. They have been raiding farms and small villages, freeing any who wished to put off their bonds. How many joined, and the number that gained the opportunity and just fled their masters, is unknown as yet."
There was a period of silence, with each man conversing with his own thoughts, then Caesar said, "Still, they are trapped on the mountain, and without water. Their time is short, whether to surrender or force battle." There was another long pause in which Julius did not answer the supposition. "Methinks you have other ideas."
"Aye. Melglos was a friend - he still is, to myself - but I know little of his inner being. He only came to my ship some short seasons ago, but... I know well that he is canny, and no doddering fool. If he went to the mountain, then it was for the reason that he thought it would be useful."
With that, both rose to take their mats for the night, Julius first walking to the afterdeck to give converse and orders to the man on watch - Judoc for this hour, then he descended into his cabin.
The following day was as the previous. The Petrel was poled back to the wharf, and the men left to enjoy the break of their fast in a food kiosk, then to their usual pleasures. Julius gave strict warning for all to stay in the vicinity of the ship, and to give watch frequently that the recall banner was not flying.
Julius and Gaius walked the small city, firstly to the magistracy offices to determine if any news from afar had arrived, then to a prosperous inn to gain their morning meal. With the visit came some startlement when the family of the Caupo, and the man himself, gave service at the table. To their question, he said, "... my slaves have absconded to the call of the despicable rebel roaming the countryside." To another surprised question, he gave, "...aye, and even my Cocua and his 'prentice. And they were not bondmen, but citizens of the city." His rotund mate came with a platter in each hand, hearing the words and said, herself, "Some of the ancillulae have taken flight, leaving the rooms without maids." She gave an evil sneer, then said, "The young asinae will soon find the fate of fell puellae at the hands of men without principles."
Caesar watched both walk away, then said, "The man gains not only slaves but men who have no need to flee a bondmaster. He has some attraction to the subservient, and no mistake."
To that Julius just raised his eyebrows with a single shake of the head.
Their walk that day took them to one of the encampments of the soldiers, Caesar pursing his lips at the sight of men less concerned with their mission than dicing and imbibing. "Even in my tyro knowledge of commanding men, I have learned from seasoned officers that men in idleness are mere grain-stalks to be trampled. Even with no enemy on the horizon, they should be kept in drill and training. These men will have sinews so slack as to falter in assaulting a brothel."
The enjoyment of watching a mass of men in no particular duties soon wore off, with both nobles wandering back along the slope of the mountain toward the encampment of the officers. Julius pointed to a man, standing with both kit and helmet of a Legionary. "There is the Centurion spoken with on the yesterday."
This time the man stood to attention and saluted as the pair approached. "Greetings, Centurion," said Caesar with a nod to the salute. "What news of the day?"
"Little, as before, Sos." He pointed. "There seems to be lessened activity on the high slope - few of the rebels can be seen from our vantage."
Now Julius asked, "Tell me, Centurion. Why were you sent here, and without a unit of real soldiers?"
The man spread his hands in gesture of... futility, mayhap. "My orders were from Servius Livius, the Dux of the Exercitii maniples. Since most of the men were sent here, the training fields are emptied and it was thought that my... veteranus skills might be of use to the Praetor."
"And yet you stand as if a bystander on festival day."
"Aye, Sos. It would appear that the Praetor has no... need for my knowledge."
In front of the huge and gaudy tent, the Praetor and his staff, if such it could be called, were taking their lounge, cups in hand and servants coming and going with their duties. It could have been a fête at any noble household in a city.
Suddenly, Caesar slapped his companion on the arm with the back of a hand. Julius looked at the grim expression, then followed the pointing finger. On the far side of the compound, about a half stadium away from the furtherest tent were a line of seven crucis, each with a naked man hanging by the upper cro
ss member of the 'T.'
"Greetings, Commander and noble Clavius," came the call from Clodius, sitting at the head of the long table. Turning, he ordered, "Cups for our guests."
"Nay, Praetor," replied Caesar. "We have just come from our morning meal, and giving a look at the situation before our return to the city." He pointed. "What story of those wretches?"
The Commander gave a laugh, then said, "Some of the slaves of our entourage made interest in joining their cohorts on the mountain. Alas, they were uninformed of the absolute need to use the single path in assent, and that attempting to climb the flanks would exhaust even Atlas were he to try to scale yon slopes of loose shingle." He looked over his shoulder at the unfortunates, then continued, "Our patrol merely had to wait for them to slide down the with the rubble, too blown to even stand, far less to run. But, they have saved themselves the need of waiting with their comrades on high for their ending." He looked around the table, then, "I venture that they are now giving themselves extolment for gaining their reward early, without having to fret for days about their inevitable demise." The men at the table laughed at the jape of their Commander, of course, but Julius saw little humor in anything he had seen since they had stood into Herculaneum.
"What have your sentries observed this new day, Praetor?" asked Caesar.
The man waved his cup toward the mountain, then replied, "Little else than the bulk of the figures to be seen at the summit are now absent. I am told that at the peak of the mountain there is a large depression almost four stadia across and mayhap half a stadium in depth. Without doubt the slaves have moved within to absent themselves from our eyes."
"A shepherd gives that there is a small basin of water at the bottom, but that it is foul and cannot be taken as nourishment." This was from another at the table.
"Mayhap they furnished their retreat with stores before they took residence," said Julius. He had no interest in the statement, making it only to see what further swash the Praetor would give.
"Nay. What man could carry a jug to such an assention? Were it wine or water, either - or foodstuffs - he would consume it in the journey."
A man appeared at the far end of the table. An officer of sorts, but garbed as a functionary soldier - his armor was of white leather, rather than red, and the brush on his silvered helmet was white also. This had to be one of the special Custos - units that were constituted for security of officials when away from their city. Bringing his baton to salute, he said, "The Illushion cohortis are ready for inspection, Legate."
The Praetor gave a mock sigh of dismay, then got to his feet, as did all at the table. "Duty requires my examination of our troops on each day. Will you accompany us, Commander?"
Caesar shook his head. "Nay, Sos. We must be back to the ship, in expectation of returning to Capua."
Both walked back to the ship, then as they stood on board, Julius called to Maccalus, the man on the duty of anchor watch. "Find our men. Tell them we are standing out immediately."
As the man nodded, then crossed the wharf at a run, Caesar said, "You have reached the cusp of... something."
"Aye. Mayhap a fool's mission, but it is worth a try. I am sending the Petrel back for cause, but it cannot return before the morrow, at the earliest. You may stay or go with it as your choice." He pause, then said, "The night of any on shore may be unpleasant should yon refugees decide to come off the mountain. Now, I must needs pen a missive for the voyage."
The three men stood on the wharf for a while and watched the Petrel make full sail out of the harbor, then turned to find themselves a respectable inn - one where both the Plebeians could take a meal with the two nobles. There, they sat on an open-air terrace and had their midday meal and taking their ease in the lack of any need of action. "...one would think that you have more knowledge than given by yourself," said Caesar, during the meal. "You seem assured that yon slaves will descend the mountain and best the soldiers in wait."
Julius shook his head. "I have no more than you for the facts of the matter, but a man of the sea must look beyond the set of the sails and the trim of the hull. Unless you are the unfortunate master of a rotten trudge and hoping not to see stove-in hull planks, any evil will come from the far horizon - whether storm or reavers. I have long learned that a watchful eye costs nothing, but may give great boon." He pointed vaguely back toward the mountain. "For the Praetor, should he ask, I would give the advice of not giving limits to a man who is in full realization that he is bound for death on a crux." He rose, then said, "I will let you arrange our rooms for the night. I must transact some business in the town."
He walked to the magisterial offices, still finding few in presence, but gave his questions to a scribe at a table. From there, he walked to the far edge of the city, beyond the wharfs and almost around the edge of the huge bay. There were only two merchants to choose from, unlike the slave houses in Capua, and Rome, which were many and of varied size and custom. With lack of any steerage, picked the first on the road. At the entrance, he was met by a fawning slave, giving the usual feigned words of welcome, who then stepped aside as the merchant himself hurried up to the patron. "Greetings, Sos. And welcome to the servitium of Urbicus, long in the service of Herculaneum for many generations. Master is in need of a famulus or a calator? Or mayhap a puella for the long nights? I have many..."
Julius raised his hand, saying, "Hold. My needs are a young man - of goodly stature and limb." He was abrupt, the necessity of giving custom to the despicable trade a vexation on his being.
"Ah. A few, although my stock is diminished with the need of replacing those who ran with the despicable homicidae on the mountain. Many tradesmen have come to gain new slaves this half month." He stepped aside, bowing and waving his patron to precede.
The man had not been giving false words - the cages in the back of the... warehouse, he assumed it would be called, were mostly empty. Immediately he could see that he was on a fools errand. There were only a double handful of men and most were elderly, and the two or three of any youth were ruffians, without doubt, probably in their situation because of the actions of the magisterial courts. He shook his head. "Nay, I see none that I could trust to return from the well with a jug of water, far less for any work of importance."
"Nay, Sos. They can be trained to the lash, and with ease. I can see that you are indeed a man without need of such assistance, but if your day is too full to give any needed castigation, then my Cruciator can instill such discipline, and such as to not be forgotten. And without impairment of your property."
Julius, with the sudden desire to leave this... establishment and enter the clear air of the outside, shook his head and turned to leave.
"Your pardon, Sos." The merchant moved to partially block the exit of a patron not yet having opened his purse. "If it is a man on the youngling side of life you are in need of, then allow me to offer just such. I have taken one into my service, but he can be vended as any other." Turning, he barked an order to his greeting-slave, and quickly another was brought to stand before the two men.
The newcomer was a man, but barely beyond his full growth. Slight of build, he would not be a fierce beadsman, but his body was whole and apparently firm. "Who are you?" asked Julius.
"He is a 'prentice..."
The interjection of Julius was sharp. "Nay. I wish to hear from the man, himself."
A pause, the merchant barked, "Then speak, boy."
"I am called Nada, Sos." The voice was soft and with goody diction. Julius made sudden wager with himself that he had been a scribe-learner or merchant assistant before... "Preniced to old Titus, the carpenter. In Pompeii." His estimate had been close. "The goodly wood-man was taken by the red-demons from a rising pussula on a leg, and his mate could not give goodly wares in his stead. The Mensarius took the wood-yard for their debts and the Juditium assigned all to be sold. As was myself."
Julius looked at the boy... man for a while, trying to ascertain... He was a good judge of men for employ on the Petrel -
or any of the vessels in the flotilla of the family, but as to deciding if a man taken in slavery might be... "What is the cost?"
The man smiled and spread his hands, "For the Sos, four hundred denarii." Anticipating a reaction of rejection, he added, "Such a man would bring six hundred or more in Rome."