by Ken Farmer
Julius watched, somewhat puzzled as the lesser Centurions hurried here and there, calling others from the rear to bring armloads of... weapons. The penalty of decimation, where one man in ten of a unit had been called out for execution had been used before - indeed, for the entirety of the history of Rome, as he remembered from his lessons, but such had always been for mutiny, or massive desertion, and even then not for generations past.
Now the condemned were separated into groups, two by two and each given a gladius. Was this to be a... He looked at the officer on either side in his rank, they returning the glance and with the same puzzlement, until the Senior Centurion mounted the wooden block to bellow, "You will fight each other to the death, just as if you were the putrid gladiators that gave you fright as if children running from the dark. Any man not wishing to die a soldier's death will be crucified." He put the silver strido to his lips and blew with a force that mayhap have been heard all the way to Capua.
From behind came a fierce, if very low, exclamation. "This is not legal. Even a Dux cannot use soldiers as if punishment day in the Circus."
A reply came, softly and also out of the vision of Julius, "There is Crassus, standing in watch. Walk over and give him your strictures on legality." There was no humor in the sudden retort.
Another said, "From the practical aspect, if he wins this war, then none in Rome will care if he had the men spitted over a fire for use by the cooks, and served for our meals. If we lose, then what punishment to his bones?" A pause, then, "Or ours?"
The spectacle was not pleasant to Julius. With Rome grasping for young men as soldiers, this was foolish. Punishment, aye, might be needed, but not a wastage of entire Centuries of men. It did not last long - men engaged with only a single blade and no armor and shield did not make for a long skirmish. Whichever man landed the first goodly blow was the winner, then those were paired off with the others that had survived the first round, then again. Finally, there were ten men left. These were stripped of all but their tunics, even to their sandals, then driven from the encampment with the whips of the quartermaster drovers.
The order to stand down did not come with the usual chatter of soldiers looking to their meals and rest and games of bones. Quiet settled over the field, even as the wagons of the quartermasters were filled with the bodies and driven into the woods. Julius did not join in the quiet conversation of his fellow on the short walk, preferring to remember his earlier years and wish that he was back on the deck of the Petrel - and not for the last time. However, his brooding had just begun when Valens came at a run, holding a scroll.
Chapter 48
"I have to say, Sos, that yon city is a sight most appealing, after our stint with the army." Both Julius and Valens were trotting along the road from the east, in company with a Pterophoros - a mounted messenger assigned to him - just now rising over the slight hill that gave sight to Capua.
Julius looked at his Cacula with some expression of irony. Then he gave a wry smile and replied, "Aye, and such goes for myself and with some intensity. But, be happy that we are not actual soldiers. Our pining for home, and only after the part of a month in the field, would be snorted at with contempt by any veteran. Sometimes the Legions are gone for years, even half the lifetime of the soldiers in the ranks."
"Then may I give offer to the gods that I might not be found to be a good soldier?"
Julius laughed. "Aye, and give a goodly oblation for myself, also, and for the same wish."
They stopped at a comfortable inn, where Julius arranged a room and meals for the messenger, then at the household, they were welcomed by all and with more than slight alleviation of worry by the mothers of the two. Naturally, they were required to eat more than a man can properly fit around, after the familiar exclamations of thinness in their bodies. The table-talk was about the Legions, of course, and Julius gave the usual tales, watered for a woman's ears. His tales over the meal was that the campaign had not been entirely successful, but was still proceeding against the rebels in the land. Afterward, he and Aulius adjourned to his office, followed by Camelia and Pontika - the latter being the reason for his leaving the army in the field.
On the day of the horrible punishment of the dishonored cohorts, a missive arrived with a horseman as he and Valens were walking back to their tent in silence. Julius was expecting a scroll or tablet on occasion, as the Petrel and the speculatoriae moved up and down the coast between cities collecting information on the position and movement of Melglos, but this one was not a mere tabulation of news learned - it was a stunning surprise. In his tent, Julius read it, then again, finally saying to Valens, "I cannot give this to the Dux. It is from Pontika and tells far too much that would be fatal in other ears." He pointed to the small writing chest. "Strip off an elbow-length of papyrus then scribe for me."
Quickly he rephrased the message in the just-arrived scroll, changing certain details to vague references. It needed to give a sense of urgency and the hint of advantage should it be acted on. Reading it twice, then thinking on his words at delivery, he then strode to the tent of the Dux. Giving his need to the guard at the entrance, he waited only a moment for his admittance, then met Crassus at the table, in the usual position of standing over the big map with his senior officers in conference. Seeing the small spindle in the hand of the young Tribune, the Dux said, "Ah. A missive with some use, I would hope."
"Aye, Sos." He held it up, then said, "It is somewhat obscure - my agent in Rhegium is Greek, and his scripting can be... dense."
"Then tell us."
"My agent has contacted a man in the camp of the rebels - a scribe that pens orders and such for the different leaders under Spartacus. He is willing to pass on information if he is guaranteed a berth back to his land of Numidae."
"By the stinking breath of Lucifer," muttered on of the officers. "I have been there and would rather be a slave in Latium than a free man in that wretched land."
Crassus waved the man to silence. "How would such be done?"
Julius shook his head. "At this distance, I have no idea. My thought is to take our fastest ship to Rheginum and conduct the matter myself. We cannot leave an opportunity such as this to a Greek employee."
"Then you are relieved this instant, Tribune. Make haste and proceed." He pointed to an officer. "Antonius! Station a mounted runner at the place of the Tribune's choosing in Capua, to wait for any important communications, then instantly bringing to myself."
When Pontika had left the encampment of Melglos, they had made arrangements to both send and receive messages if desired, leaving the scrolls at an inn of either city, Rheginum or Paestum - both far down the western coast of Latium. Now in the office of Aulius, they discussed the startling message that had been sent to Pontika from Melglos.
Now, in the small office spaces of the household, Julius had examined the scroll delivered to the girl two days past, then said, "He wishes to give converse to myself as soon as possible. Mayhap he wishes to take my offer of placement at a far domain for himself and his escaped friends."
There was a hesitation, then his brother said, "I know that he is a friend, and a goodly crewman of the Petrel once, but... The family cannot be seen giving berth and escape to thousands of slaves."
Julius smiled grimly. "Aye. That I know and well. Indeed, if it should become known that Melglos is... was a waged man of mine, and that I have given meeting with him after the escape from the Lanista, then it is myself that will be needing a far destination. Nay, my only offer was for himself and the seventy or so that escaped the clutches of Batiatus." He sat back and thought for the moment, then said, "But, I doubt that such is his intent." He stood, then said, "It is too late to start now, but I will send a missive to Neápolis to make ready the Petrel if she is at wharf. Or whatever hull is available."
At the break of day, he and Valens were back on their mounts, in trot to the seaport. Now that Julius was effectively detached from his short military service, his man was no longer a batman, but just a compa
nion. The youngster was a pleasant associate, with a goodly sense to his being and quite resourceful in his assistance to the Tribune... now, Capitaneus again. To the request of the young man to give accompany, Julius gave quick acknowledgement.
In the afternoon, they left the mounts at the family stable and walked to the port. As he had assumed, his ship was not in harbor, but the speculatoria of Decimus was pulled onto the sands of the shipyard. With some surprise, the missive boat Master turned at a sudden nudge from a crewman, giving greeting. "Salve, Capitaneus. I was given that you were far inland with the Legions."
"The tale is too long for the moment. Is your vessel in repair for some need?"
"Nay, Sos. Just cleaning the hull of the green growths."
"Then I need passage to Rheginum with all haste."
Decimus made no question, but turned and began barking orders to both his crewmen and those of the shipyard. Tools were downed and all gathered to the sand to push the small craft into the water. Two were sent to the victualry to hurriedly gain supplies and jugs for the journey, then the speculatoria heeled to the wind and hove out of the harbor, pointing the bow to the south.
The small vessel had no hold of any sort, but only a very small covered bin to hold the supplies, now used by Julius to sit as he gave the Capitaneus the tale of the battle - and the aftermath. Finally, Decimus shook his head once, saying, "I can only give offering to Neptune that I was made a seaman, and not a soldier."
"Aye. The thought has entered my mind on occasion. And recently, quite often."
The voyage was uneventful, and swift as was usual for the little boats, and they stood into the port of Rheginum on the third day. At the inn, designated as the place to leave messages, Julius did not find a waiting scroll, but three men - not work slaves these, but men who had some confidence with the swords they had a belt. He and Valens had only just entered, stopping to allow their eyes to adjust to the gloom of the attached taburna, when the men strode up, one saying as a question, "Capitaneus Clavius?"
"Aye."
"We are your guides. The camp is the walk of a day in distance."
"Need we to gain supplies?"
The man, bearded almost as a Greek, shook his head. "Nay. There will be cookeries on the road." He looked at the young man waiting behind Julius, then asked, "Need you rest or food before we depart?"
"Nay. We have been sitting in rest for three days. Let us begin our journey."
Before they reached the gate to the east, Julius realized that the city was under the control of the rebels, although without any apparent discord. Certainly, the citizens did not seem to be in fear, nor were the shops and merchantries in the disarray of having been pillaged. But, men were all about the streets, armed with a motley assortment of weapons and with only tattered tunics and bare feet as garb. Slaves, they had to be - now free by their own efforts, although he had some doubt as to the length of their newly found liberty.
The Popitian Via was the major coastal road in this narrow projection of the peninsula, all of it in the region of Bruttium. Julius now realized that the slave army had control of all lands of the south of Capua, or at least were in presence there. Of course, with no military presence by Rome in the entire land of Latium, other than that of Consul Crassus - at east two thousand stadia to the north even now - taking such dominance of the land was just a matter of occupying it with a few men. The men of their guides were certainly not apprehensive in their trodding along the road. It was obvious that they expected no peril on the walk.
Night fell but they marched on, the moon giving goodly light for an empty road. Finally, the leader called a stop to order one of his men to ignite a torch then they continued their walk. Shortly, they came to a group on the side of the road, a fire giving both light and probably flame for the evening meal. A call to the encamped men was answered by a returned word and the five men continued to crest a low hill, below which was the encampment of the rebels.
Of that there was no doubt - the fires spread across the plain were as numerous as the stars above. Julius had no surprise at the sight, knowing of the numbers in the follow of Melglos, but his young companion failed to suppress a sudden exclamation. "Aye," said his Master. "This is the sight that the leading men of Capua refused to believe."
Down the slope, they continued, into the middle of the multitude of individual quarters - again, tents, stick huts, leantos, and such as could be made from the materials available in the wilderness. But, at a large tent, they stopped, the leader of the party giving notice of arrival to a guard, then waited.
But only for a few heartbeats. In the light of the fire just outside the flap-opening of the tent, he saw the huge form of the Thracian emerge, then stride to greet his guests. "My Capitaneus, it is. And come with even greater haste than I had given hope for." Both men took wrists in the Roman manner, without notice that one had been born far from Latium. "You are well, I see."
"Aye," said Julius. "And it appears that your luxurious living has not begun to give portly look to your frame." He turned and gestured with a hand. "This is Valens, the son of our Steward, Virnius, as you may remember. Come to gain some excitement, as is the want of all young men."
"Aye. He is welcome too." Melglos clapped the Roman on the back, then said, "Come into my canvas palace. Have you eaten on the road?" At the shake of the head, he barked, "Bring a meal for two - and hot. And the good wine." Inside, the 'palace' was bare, with only ragged mats on the ground to sleep and sit. The Thracian pointed, then said, "Rest your feet from your long walk. We will talk of my needs in the morning, but now, How is the lovely Camelia? And my little Koritsa?"
Both traded talk of the women, and old times on the Petrel, but not of the current happenings. When Julius asked a question of such, Melglos put him off until the morrow. "My ideas need a clear head for understanding, and your feet and legs are probably taking the attention of your body from the long journey..."
When both woke in first light, Melglos was gone - the woman bringing their morning meal giving the message that he would return within the hour. For now, Julius and Valens just stood outside the tent and looked across the plain of the encampment. As before, the men were moving to an area in the distance, and without doubt for more training. The comparison between the routed milita units sent to quell the uprising and these men - all with nothing to lose other than to win or die - was striking. These wretches apparently spent their days in trying to learn a skill to survive another day, and to the knowledge of Julius, the soldiers of the Praetors Clodius and Varinius had spent their training days in the local taburnae.
Quietly, Valens said, "I would give that there are more people here than inside the walls of Rome."
"Aye," replied Julius. "But only about half are men of age to stand in battle, and by my guess only a third part of those are with any skill." Still, that made a very large force, indeed.
Now the young man pointed, "Here comes... your friend."
Melglos strode up to the tent with two of his officers, then turned to give orders and gestures into the distance. Both men nodded and walked their different ways as the Thracian gave Julius a wave, then said, "One assumes your limbs have forgotten the long walk on the yesterday." He pointed into the tent. "Sit you down and allow me to give my thoughts."
The three reclined on the mats, Julius and Valens in the Roman fashion, and with Melglos cross-legged against the center pole. "You will assign me as having my being taken by Sirens on the rocks of the straits - but allow me to give my reasoning before you give judgment." He smiled. "This will bring back memories of a certain tiny island and a noble Roman carted there by sea-brigands."
"Caesar?"
"Aye. And my needs are for a delivery of just such wealth as the Petrel made to the island of... Syrna, was it not?" Julius nodded, but in mystification at the idea. "My plan is to move my people to the city of Brundisinum..." Julius knew that was on the eastern coast, far down at the southeastern end of the land. "...and from there by ship across the na
rrows, mayhap to the port of Apollonia. Or Epidamnus." He smiled again at the look on the face of his noble guest. "Aye, few of the people you can see outside have the skill of Pontika in the water. I am not expecting my men and their families to swim a distance of twenty leagues. I have made bargain for ships."