Insurgent of Rome

by Ken Farmer

  The Dux stared in wonder for the moment but asked nothing about the magical appearance of a ship just as needed. Rather, he said, "I will have scrolls made by the morrow, and you may depart with them after the assembly. I assume you would wish to watch your man receive his just rewards."

  And so it was. Before the assembled Legions, men were honored, promoted and acclaimed for their actions on the yesterday. And, one was a young man, now given the award of the Golden Torc, a thickly woven band of gold to be worn around the neck, signifying to all that saw it that this was a man who made a major contribution in some battle, somewhere. Of course, a Roman army in the field did not include such baubles in their kit, but Valens was given the scroll of attainder that would allow him to apply for the actual award when he returned to his home. And, as promised, he was given the new rank of Immunis in Perpetuity - a symbolic promotion, as the army career of the young man would end as he returned to the Petrel with Julius, but as the Dux had said, it would stand well with both citizens of his city and any woman that might strike his fancy in some future day.

  As they walked toward the shore, carrying a rag taken from an unfortunate still laying in wait for the scavengers, Valens said, "I had heard that the goddess, Felicitas, was fickle in her gifts, Sos, but I never expected to be the beneficiary of her blessings."

  Julius just smiled. "Aye, some would give her to be so, but I would say that a man makes his own path more than some nebulous goddess gives steer. Your fortune would be to have your future battles become no more fierce than avoiding some over-cupped patron in a taburna. But for now..." He pointed to the two ships, only half a stadia out to sea. "Wave that rag and let us leave this landscape of blood for the cleanliness of the open waters."

  The slope of the sea-bottom was far too gradual to allow even the shallow-drafted speculatoria to ground, but even as Valens waved the rag in signal across the waters, the skiff was lowered and propelled with haste to the shore. Shortly, both men were lifted to the deck of the Petrel to the fervid greetings of the crew. After acknowledgement by all, Densus asked the question most desired by every man. Julius gave them the overview of what he knew. "...is not over, but the back of the rebellion is broken. I suspect that there are a myriad of slaves and miscreants in hiding, or attempting to flee the land, but I give gratitude to the gods that the task will fall to someone other than us." He pointed to the small boat riding the waves only the cast of a stone away. "Call Decimus to come onboard. I have missives for him."

  Pontika was still on the vessel, of course, and barely noticeable as female. The wind from the north was cold and the intermittent rain required all to garb with warmness and with water-repellent leathers. He knew full well what her desire would be for news and had considered his words even before sleep had come the night before. As the Captain of the little boat boarded, he announced to all, "Our friend and crewman, Melglos, is passed to the realm of the ferryman, or morelike, to the Elysian Fields of the Greeks. He fell in the fight, with a sword in each hand, as bravely as any man has ever done." Now, turning to Pontika, he took her by both shoulders, then said in a voice that all could hear, "To the citizens of Latium, he was a terror, an escaped slave that cared only for looting and pillage. We know the error of that belief, that he was a man, honorable and true, cast into his fate by the despicable and wretched acts of a craven Roman noble. He made his choice, not to die for the pleasure of a shrieking crowd in the Circus, but to make his tormentors buy his death in like coin."

  The femina was holding her face rigid, refusing to break into feminine tears in front of her mates. Julius now spoke more quietly. "Melglos could not be recognized among the many dead, thus his body cannot be despoiled in vengeance. I myself made search for that reason and can say that it is true." He paused, then said, "You are young, indeed just starting your life in full. In years ahead you will experience the loss of both men and women who mean much to you. That is just the measure of life of a man - and a woman - and the losses must not be forgotten, but honored and remembered, but... your life must continue without the dragging anchor of continual sorrow."

  She nodded, sober-faced, then turned to go below. Julius glanced at Ngozi with a slight nod, the black man immediately turning to follow the femina to the forward cabin. The pair were unlikely friends, and had been since their early adventures that had brought them together with their now slain comrade. Julius hoped that the man from the far southern lands could help temper the sorrow of the young woman.

  Now he said to Decimus. "Make all haste to Rome with your missives, but stand into Neápolis to leave word of the returning of the Petrel." As the man was boated back to his craft, he turned to Densus and said, "And you, my friend, turn our bows to follow and with as much canvas as can be shown to this wind."

  The wind directly behind, the journey south to make the turn around the land, then to point west was swift, and the southwest course to the straits of Messina little slower. But, in only a pair of days, as they reached the narrow waters where the need was to point to the north, the course was directly into the eye of the wind. Rather than attempt the multitude of tacks and come-abouts that would be required to traverse the narrow waters and rocky shores between Latium and the island of Sicilia, Julius ordered the Petrel to stand into the port of Rheginum.

  They approached carefully, seeing only a handful of hulls in the harbor. Julius had no idea if the collapse of the slave rebellion was known here, and had no desire to dock in a port of desperate men in need of transport - and willing to purchase berths with iron. He ordered the Petrel anchored away from the shore and the skiff launched to take himself ashore, but just as the little boat was about to be lowered, he called, "Nay. Secure the skiff. It will not be needed. Densus. Pull us to the wharf... there."

  "What are your thoughts, Sos? That the city is subjugated by soldiers?"

  Julius shook his head, pointing across the water. "There may well be an entire Legion of veterans in Rheginum, but that is not why I have little worry."

  Now Densus noticed the ship, hidden behind another until now. "The festival barge of the Lanista!" he exclaimed.

  "Aye. And if it is wharfed, then we know with certainty that there is little peril ashore. And that much profit is to be gained by its putrid owner." Calling forward, he queried Flavius, standing on the bow with rope in hand. "Any sign of Capitaneus Decimus?"

  "Nay. He is not tied to any wood in the bend of the harbor." That was to be expected. A speculatoria was as nimble as a young taburna maid moving between tables, deftly avoiding the grasping hands of the drunken patrons. The light hull could move back and forth between tacks without loss of pace or even much effort by the crew, and once through the straits could skip across the waves only three hands from the eye of the wind. The narrow passage that would be a bone-wearying task for the Petrel and any larger merchant ship would barely be noticed by the crew of the little missive boat.

  As they nudged the sand, then let the wind push them against the wharf, Julius ordered all to gain their arms. He doubted trouble would occur, but again, a modicum of care... Then, "Ngozi, Maccalus. With me, and eyes open."

  The three men walked the almost empty street toward the taburna that had served as a missive drop in the past. The fat Caupo and his mate were still in residence, but with no patrons at this time of day. Julius made query of any messages that might have been left - there were none - then asked of the happenings in the last few days. He knew that the town had not been looted by the rebels on the direct orders of Melglos in his desire to use it for their mass departure - a plan that had been contracted and paid for, but came to naught from the treachery of the pirates that did not fulfill their end of the bargain. Other than that... "Nay, Sos. My cellars are empty of both wine and viands. No ships have made port here since the troubles began..." More questions brought little information of use, then, "...but there is an important noble from Rome, come to make issue in the city, although what he is in desire of is beyond my knowledge. Most of the slaves have left
and even many of the common laborers, to join the ranks of this Spartimus leader." "Aye, he is usually to be found in the magisterial offices, even though they are empty of magistrates. Most fled on the ships when the band of slaves made their approach."

  The man was obviously speaking of Gnaeus Batiatus, the putrid bastardus for whom the entirety of fault lay for the tens of thousand of bones now littering the land. Julius had no interest - indeed, much desire in avoidance - of the Lanista, unless he could somehow spirit the man away from his protectors to then carve him as a fish on the filleting boards. Nay, the crew of the Petrel would wait out the winds on board. There were supplies for a month at least - they would not starve or thirst. And even should the time run on longer, the island of Sicilia and the huge port of Syracusae were just across the waters - there, they could feast and wait in grandly style.

  The spitting rain beginning again, he led the two men back to the ship, descending to the middle hold to join his crew in their gab and games, relaxing against the curve of the hull as the ship's boy, Caius, handed him a cup and a small cake. Valens was giving what he knew of the battles since the time they had parted from the ship in Paestum, answering questions that he knew and making guesses for those of which he was ignorant. Finally, Julius broke in to give the crew some of the tale... "...you are now speaking to an Immunis Perpetuus, given by the hand of the Dux himself, when our fair crewman cut down a gladiator attempting to carve his way through the officers of his staff."

  With surprise, all looked at the usually mild-manner crewman for a few moments, then Flavius gave a wide grin and a slap to the back of the youngster. "Now that is a better tale, indeed. Do not make us wait to hear the saga from the street bards. What was the happening..."

  Julius relaxed as the stories were bandied about, almost dozing against the hull, then came the call from Judoc, on the watch above. "Man asking to board, Capitaneus. The noble from the over-gaudy flatboat."

  Densus looked up through the open scuttle. "Batiatus?"

  "Aye."

  Densus looked at Julius with a shrug. With an expression of distaste, the Roman rose to his feet, pulling the leather kirtle over his head, then quickly ascended the ladder, Judoc holding the hatch open for his need.

  Indeed, it was the fat Lanista, on the wharf, standing under a canopy held by servants and flanked by his two toughs. "Greetings, Master Julius," boomed the man. "Your ship has the fleetness of a vessel sent by Mercury himself. My request for passage was only sent to Neápolis three days ago."

  Realizing what the man must mean, Julius replied, "Nay. This is only a coincidental meeting. We come from the far side of Latium, where the Dux, Crassus, has crushed the rebels."

  It was obvious that the Petrel had outpaced even the runners with the news. With dropping jaw and a stare for the moment, Batiatus sudden started, then said, "Then come to my ship for good wine and a meal. I would hear of this wondrous news."

  Chapter 56

  With the servants holding the square of canvas above, that the two nobles might not be smitten by the cold rain, Julius followed the Lanista around the bend of the harbor to the over-decorated... barge, was the only term for it. He wondered at the wisdom of the noble to take the ship, usually reserved for the calm waters of a harbor - and a fête with associates - along the coast of the open sea. He himself would hate to be in command of the bulky vessel should some fierce storm present a lee shore to the lumbering hull. Shrugging to himself, he assumed that the man was ignorant of the risk. Indeed, Julius would give praise to the gods if they pushed this evil bastardus to his doom on the rocks.

  Rather than sit on the deck, under the canvas that would discard the rain but not the cold wind, Batiatus led him to a hold - a room, below. Small it was, but opulent. There, he was made to give the tale of battle in full, and even to questions that Julius could not possible answer, such as the bearing of the two Generals newly come and their plans. Finally, he came to the reason for his need of the Petrel. "...as I said, months before, I need traverse to Neápolis with the loot that the putrid slaves have ripped from the hands of the honest citizenry. I was given word that Spartacus had departed the region of Bruttium for good, leaving his treasure for a future foray. My travel here was to make sure that his men did not loot their own ill-gotten gains in his absence. But, if he is dead and his men scattered, then now is the time to begin."

  "And you know of where he has gathered this... loot?"

  "Aye. Or rather, where it had been stashed. I took it upon myself to move it to a safer place, just for my stated reasons. As the revolt of the slaves collapses, as it was destined to do, such a treasure would draw thieves as dung summons flies."

  Julius thought for a moment, wishing he could give his opinion of miscreants in truth, but finally asked, "How is it that you, rather than the men of his band, knew where his gains had been stashed?"

  Now the Lanista grinned, holding out his cup for a filling. "As I said before, young Clavius, you have your secrets and I have mine. The only difference is their matter." Now he leaned over to pat the knee of his guest. "But, if I may be allowed a bit of self-praise, had I been alive far back in the time of Troy, no wooden horse would have been needed to breach the defenses of that city. There is no gate that I cannot have opened, nor any door that cannot be left ajar, if I can get a single golden aureus into a palm on the far side." He took a long drink, then continued. "Again, to bluster about my own... adeptness, I can say that my count of the ill-gotten gains of Spartacus were more accurate than his own and that the count of men guarding the chests and in my pay was greater than his."

  Julius just shook his head, hiding his expression. Even with the contempt he had for the Lanista - and it was great indeed - he had to give admittance that the skills of the man, despicable though they might be, were great indeed. To penetrate a chaotic band of escaped slaves and men of like ilk, even during their rise to temporary power, was indeed impressive. And to replace loyal men, if such existed in the uprising, with his own gave notice of a man expert in the art of... he could not think of the vocation that would describe the skills, but he knew it was there.

  Now the Lanista continued. "Your opportune arrival, and with news of great fortune, gives that now is the time to begin the transfer of the pillage to your ship. But in small carriage - I do not wish for a steady stream of men carrying chests from a city that has been stripped of anything movable to be seen. It might give question in the minds of the skulkers that are now in hiding from the wrath of the coming Legions."

  Julius put down his cup, then asked, "What is the weight, if you know? We may have to shift ballast if the load becomes heavy."

  "I would give that it is about ninety talents, mayhap a bit more." There was a moment of silence, and one that continued as if not to stop. Julius was sitting frozen in place at the sudden estimation. The Petrel was still carrying the undelivered treasure meant for the pirates before their deceitful breakage of the bargain from Melglos. As ballast, it had replaced most of the usually carried in the bilge for the proper weighting of the ship. To add the amount of weight as the Lanista had said would bring them close to the carrying capacity of the Petrel, and indeed, would almost be a full load for one of the larger merchant ships of the family. Batiatus smiled, knowing of the reason for the sudden consternation of his guest. "Aye. It is the wealth of the lower part of Latium, pilfered for two years almost, by the scum that was recruited by the putrid Spartacus."

  The talk continued for a while, arrangement were agreed upon, then Julius walked back to his ship to begin the preparations. Calling his crew together, he gave what he had learned, it also giving staggering surprise to the crew. Most had not realized that such wealth existed in the entirety of the world, and now the Petrel would gather it on board...

  One member of the crew was unimpressed by the prospect of seeing the wealth of the land, even if only to give transport. Pontika was suddenly in rage, and lost the entire aspect of her assumed noble femininity. "Julius! You are going to assist
this bástardos... this kakó myrodiá! After he has caused the death of Melglos and given rapine to the land..."

  Her wrath was of such heat that she was falling back into her milk language without notice. Even Ngozi was watching with widened eyes. Julius held up his hands in mock defense, in actuality glad that the little femina was not armed with a long stick. "Hold, my little friend. Let me give explanation." Assuring himself that she was not about to produce her little dagger and lunge at any man who proposed to befriend her mortal enemy, he continued. "This wealth belongs to the citizens of the land, not to Batiatus. I am sure that his plans are to procure a goodly part for his unselfish work in its return, but I will make sure that the magistrates of Rome are told of the retrieval, and the amounts that we transporting. Unfortunately, many of the owners of the wealth have departed for the far shores of the Styx, but still - many are alive and will welcome the chance to rebuild their lives with the return of their property." He waited for her to assimilate his words, then, "If it is just left... wherever it is, then it will disappear into the winds, as gold dropped from a purse in the Forum." Finally, he said, "He is an evil man, and I will not say other, but the purpose of our assistance is goodly."