by R. W. Peake
“Thanks, boys,” Pullus called to them, although his eyes never left Furnius, “but I don’t think Volusenus and I will need your help.” He risked a quick glance over at Volusenus, and the pair exchanged a grin, then Pullus bellowed, “Let’s have some fun!”
“Forty.” Clink. “Fifty.” Clink. “Sixty.” Clink.
Volusenus watched as Pullus dropped the coins into the outstretched hand of Turbo, unconsciously rubbing his jaw, although he was bothered more by his left eye that was rapidly closing. When his glance flickered up from Turbo’s upturned palm to the man’s face, without thinking about it, he grinned, which reopened the split lip and caused him to groan softly but audibly enough for Pullus to momentarily stop paying the taverna keeper, glance over, and shake his head with a grin of his own on his face.
“What are you smiling at?” Volusenus demanded, mostly good-naturedly. “You don’t look any better than I do!”
“And neither of you look as bad as my place!” Turbo wailed, shaking his only hand in an obvious demand for more coin.
That, Volusenus had to admit as he glanced around, was not an exaggeration. More than a dozen tables had been overturned, but some of the remaining patrons were helping put them back in their proper spots except for the one that had been smashed; the chairs were in even more disarray, and that was not counting those which were now splintered from one cause or another. Adding to the debris, the wooden floor had several puddles, and while most of them were from shattered winecups and jugs, not all of it was, the blood being slightly darker. The only thing that was missing were the half-dozen men of the 15th; the two men who could still move under their own power were reduced to begging for help removing their four inert comrades, including Furnius, who ironically enough had been the first to be knocked out of the fight, by Pullus, and with a single, well-aimed blow. The sight of all this destruction actually made Volusenus smile even more broadly, but he said nothing as Pullus finished counting out what was about six months’ pay for a Gregarius. However, when Pullus then added another ten coins, he was about to protest that his Pilus Prior was overpaying, but Pullus cut him off with a look.
“The extra is for the troubles we caused you, Aulus,” Pullus explained. “We don’t want you to make The Dancing Faun off-limits to our boys.” At this, he turned to look directly at Volusenus. “Do, we Centurion?”
“No, Pilus Prior,” Volusenus answered, understanding now why Pullus had done as he had done.
“Well,” Turbo grumbled, “I’ll have to think about it.” Then a grin spread across his face as he admitted, “But I’ll tell you, Pullus. I haven’t enjoyed seeing my place destroyed as much as I did tonight. Those cunni,” his battered face mirrored his indignation, “coming in here like that, thinking they fucking owned the place! They should have known better than to do that! But,” Turbo nudged Pullus, grinning up at him, “you set them straight! I don’t think any bastard from the 15th will come wandering in here for a year at least!”
“If they do,” Pullus replied, “you need to let me know.”
Turbo’s grin faded, recognizing that not only was Pullus being serious, he had reason to be; it was far from unknown that the men of a defeated Legion in a brawl like this took out their anger on the spot where their defeat had taken place.
The taverna keeper gave a grim nod, promising, “I’ll send my boy the instant they show their face, Pilus Prior.”
“Good.” Pullus patted him on the shoulder, then turned away to walk over to where the remaining Centurion and two Optios were standing, with Volusenus following behind.
Structus grinned at the pair. “That was something to see! I’ll be telling my children about this one, by the gods!”
Gillo and Fabricius were the pair of Optios, and they hurried out in front of their Centurions, opening the door out into the street, with one of them looking to the left, the other to the right, searching for any sign of men looking for retribution. Signaling to Structus, who was standing just inside the doorway, the party made their way out of the taverna, which was now the site of a victory that would become famous throughout both Legions, of the type that did not make it into the Legion diary but was savored almost as much by the victors as one that did, and would sting the losers for some time to come.
Volusenus noticed that Pullus was hobbling slightly, and he asked with some concern, “What happened? Why are you limping?”
Pullus laughed, but he sounded rueful. “I think I pulled a muscle when I was throwing that bastard into that other bastard.”
Volusenus laughed as well, recalling the moment vividly, and he allowed, “Well, he was halfway across the room. So maybe it’s not just because you’re old.” Puffing his chest out slightly, he added, “Even I might have pulled a muscle like that.”
“You put paid to that Princeps Posterior,” Pullus commented, giving his son a playful nudge as he added, “Although I got him softened up for you.”
“Those cunni will never live this down,” Structus crowed. “Two of you and six of them? You handled them like they were fucking tiros!” Pullus’ former Optio shook his head in mock sadness. “I suppose the 15th just doesn’t have as high a standard as we do.”
They entered the camp, and for a moment, it appeared as if there might be more trouble when it turned out that it was a Cohort of the 15th who was standing watch, and it quickly became obvious that they were aware of what had taken place out in the town. The Centurion at the gate seemed to be considering making an issue of it as, when he saw Pullus and Volusenus and clearly having been made aware of the unusual size of the combatants, called a section of men to stand behind him, blocking the street that led from Ubiorum to the main gate.
“Juno’s cunnus,” Structus muttered under his breath, but when he moved to place himself in front of Pullus, the Pilus Prior put a hand on his shoulder and stopped him.
“Let’s see what this is about,” he said softly.
While Structus did not argue, both Gillo and Fabricius moved from their position, which had been just behind Pullus and Volusenus, to place themselves abreast of the three Centurions, and when Pullus stopped a few paces away from the waiting Centurion, they followed suit.
“Salve, Centurion,” Pullus’ tone was, if not friendly, was certainly not antagonistic, but the same could not be said for the watch Centurion.
“Fortuna,” he said flatly, his mouth turned down into an angry scowl.
Pullus sighed, but he provided the watchword to the challenge that had been issued for the day readily enough.
“Jupiter.”
This should have been enough for the Centurion to step aside and command his men to do so, yet he made no move to do so, and Volusenus immediately sensed Pullus stiffen, although he still sounded calm when he asked, “Is there a problem, Centurion? I gave you the correct watchword, didn’t I?”
Rather than respond the question, the Centurion lifted his vitus and pointed at Volusenus’ face, which was illuminated by the torches that were placed in sconces attached to the gate.
“What happened to your face, Centurion? Have you been in some sort of fight out in town?”
There was no mistaking the hostility in the Centurion’s tone, and now Volusenus felt the sudden surge of anger that he was certain Pullus was experiencing, but when he began to take a step forward, Pullus grabbed him none too gently.
Still, the Pilus Prior sounded calm when he answered the Centurion with a question of his own, “Why do you ask, Centurion?”
The Centurion raised one eyebrow, obviously affecting a tone of surprise as he replied, “Why? Because brawling in the town is against regulations. And,” now he gave the party a grin, but it held nothing pleasant in it, “as duty Centurion, I’m obliged to make a report of it to the Praetorium.” Before Pullus could reply, he added with a shake of the head that was as exaggerated, “I suppose you boys in the 1st don’t know the regulations very well.”
“The 1st?” Pullus pounced, and Volusenus had to smother a grin as the Pilu
s Prior adopted the same tone as his challenger. “Now how do you know we’re from the 1st? There’s four Legions here in camp right now, and we all were given liberty of the town.” Cutting the Centurion off, his mouth just opening to say something, Pullus continued, “I suppose you’d know your own, but there are two hundred-forty Centurions and as many Optios out and about. So,” his voice suddenly hardened, and he pointed his own vitus at the Centurion, “either you’re blessed by Fortuna, or someone warned you we’d be coming, and who we belong to. Now, that makes me wonder why?” Again, Pullus did not allow the Centurion to reply, and Volusenus was happy to see that the man suddenly did not seem so sure of himself as his Pilus Prior finished, “And if you’re going to accuse us of brawling, Centurion, you must know that we’re going to demand that whoever accuses us of doing it provide witnesses to substantiate the charge. Although,” for the first time, Pullus smiled at the Centurion, but his tone became even more scornful, “I doubt they’re very eager to testify, it being so hard for them to talk right now.”
He stopped then, and Volusenus watched the duty Centurion, who was clearly fuming but just as obviously knew that as unpalatable as it may have been, the huge Centurion facing him was speaking the truth.
Suddenly, his shoulders slumped, and he stepped aside, ordering his men to do the same with a jerk of his head, sullenly muttering, “You may pass.”
Volusenus was about to say something as they walked past, but Pullus caught his eye and gave him a shake of his head, which he correctly interpreted, and their party entered the camp. It was not until they were several paces away before, without a word being said, they all burst into laughter.
When Pullus and Volusenus entered the Legion office, the fact that they were wearing freshly laundered tunics, their balteae were newly varnished, and they had given each other a minute inspection was the most visible indication that this was not a routine visit. The summons from Sacrovir had come shortly after the morning formation, but both men had at least gotten a subtle but unmistakable warning that this lay in their future by the glare from their Primus Pilus as they stood in the forum to receive their orders of the day. The pair had briefly discussed it on their way back to their Cohort area, and both had immediately alerted their clerks to make the necessary preparations. Alex had actually anticipated this, having heard from Pullus the night before about the events of that evening, so for him, it was just a matter of laying out the tunic and the spare baltea that Pullus used for inspections, but Krateros was forced to scramble to make sure his Centurion was properly attired. When they arrived at the Legion office, the fact that the chief clerk ushered them into the Primus Pilus’ office immediately did not put Volusenus at ease, and he saw that Pullus was no less discomfited. They strode to the desk, behind which Sacrovir was seated, although he was perusing a scroll, which actually made Volusenus feel slightly better since this was the part of the little game Centurions liked to play with anyone of a subordinate rank, and it was a tactic Volusenus had learned almost within his first week as a paid man.
Snapping to intente, Volusenus used his peripheral vision to time his salute with his Pilus Prior, pleased with himself at the precision of the movement. Which, of course, did not appear to impress Sacrovir in the slightest, although he did return it perfunctorily before returning his attention to the scroll. At least, Volusenus thought, this one has writing on it, aware that using a blank scroll or tablet was also fairly common, although it had never happened to him, but he ascribed that to the fact that, because of his height, it was practically impossible for someone seated to use that with him. What could happen, and did in this case, was what Sacrovir was doing now, ignoring the two Centurions as he continued to study the contents of the scroll, but again using his peripheral vision, this time the bottom of it, Volusenus could see that Sacrovir was not unrolling the scroll as he read. Oddly enough, it made him feel slightly better to know that the Primus Pilus was only pretending to read whatever was contained in this seemingly important missive. Finally, Sacrovir tossed the scroll on his desk, then leaned back in his chair to eye the two men, while both of them stared at an imaginary spot on the wall behind him.
“It appears,” Sacrovir broke the silence, his tone bland, almost bored, “that you two must have had a bit of excitement last night.”
On their way to the Praetorium, Pullus had informed Volusenus that he was to do all the talking, which suited Volusenus perfectly, but he was unprepared for Pullus to ask innocently, “Excitement, Primus Pilus?” Volusenus saw him shake his head as he said, “Not that I can recall. Although,” his voice altered slightly, telling Volusenus that Pullus was grinning now, “that might be because of how much I drank. Everything is…fuzzy.”
Sacrovir snorted, but Volusenus did not risk a glance to read the Primus Pilus’ expression to see how he was receiving Pullus’ attempt to disarm the potentially serious situation, although he answered immediately, “Ah, I see. So,” for the first time, Volusenus got an idea that the scroll had not just been a prop, because he saw Sacrovir indicate it, “the Primus Pilus of the 15th Legion is full of cac, is he? That the two of you didn’t beat his Sextus Pilus Prior half to death, along with…” For this, he actually picked up the scroll and consulted it before he continued, “…the Sextus Pilus Posterior, the Sextus Hastatus Prior, and their three Optios? According to this,” he waved the scroll in their direction, “these men are going to be out of commission for quite some time. And,” now his voice changed, and Volusenus felt a sense of deep unease as he thought, If Sacrovir is faking this, he is doing a good job of it, “depending on how long we stay in Ubiorum before we march again, they may not be able to go back out against Arminius?”
Volusenus was close enough to Pullus to hear his low groan, but he was equally annoyed with himself as he realized this had not occurred to him either.
Sacrovir had stopped speaking and was glaring at the pair, his eyes moving from one to the other, but finally, he lost patience, snapping, “Well? Do either of you have any fucking excuse for this?”
Feeling that Sacrovir would not take it amiss, Volusenus broke from his intente to glance over at Pullus, but while he did not say anything, he could see Pullus understood his silent plea, because he gave a slight nod.
“This is what happened, Primus Pilus,” Pullus began, then talked for the next several moments.
As his Pilus Prior spoke, Volusenus gave up any pretense of staring over Sacrovir’s head, instead watching the Primus Pilus carefully, searching for some clue that would give him an indication how Sacrovir was taking Pullus’ account. Which, as far as Volusenus was concerned, was not only accurate, it was also uncomfortably forthcoming, because Pullus related the cause of what had taken place at The Dancing Faun. And, for the first time, Volusenus felt a stab of hope because he was certain he saw Sacrovir’s mouth twitch, as if he was fighting a smile, as Pullus offered not just the bare bones of what took place when the Fourth had entered the camp after their malodorous duty, but some of the gossip it engendered, including the story that Volusenus had flung the ranker, whose name they had never learned, over his tent and into the next street. Pullus finished immediately after that, making Volusenus wonder if this was calculated on his part.
Sacrovir was silent for a few heartbeats before he said, “Actually, I did hear about that…from the Primus Pilus of the 15th, the next day when we met in the praetorium.” His lined face suddenly broke into a grin, and Volusenus realized with some surprise that the last time he had been close enough to Sacrovir to see his teeth, there had been one more than there were now. Chuckling as he spoke, Sacrovir went on, “Yes, Mancinas went on about that for some time, I’ll tell you that.” Looking at the pair, he said, “Gods know that both of you are strong as bulls, but throwing a full-grown man ten feet in the air and fifty feet away?” He shook his head, his tone bemused as he continued, “I get that rankers will think all sorts of nonsense, but Mancinas is a Primus Pilus! He should know better.” Stopping then, he remained silent for
a couple of heartbeats before he looked at each of them as he asked, “Is that all you have to say? Anything else to add?”
“No, sir,” Pullus answered immediately, and Volusenus promptly echoed him.
Nodding, Sacrovir said, “Very well. Now, I’m going to tell you what I told Primus Pilus Mancinas. Regardless of what did or didn’t happen between Hastatus Posterior Volusenus and a ranker from the Second of the Sixth of the 15th, no official report was made, either to me or to Primus Pilus Mancinas the day it happened, which he admitted to me. Therefore,” he paused for just a heartbeat, “the fact that neither Sextus Pilus Prior Furnius nor his Pilus Posterior made an official complaint means that when they went to The Dancing Faun, they did so in violation of a long-standing agreement that’s been in place for men under the standard long before any of us were ever born.” He began smiling, but it was one that exhibited a ferocity and savage delight as he finished, “And I told Mancinas that he needed to make an offering to blessed Fortuna that the two of you didn’t beat every one of his fucking men to death.”
Volusenus immediately glanced over at Pullus, but he saw that the Pilus Prior was no less surprised than he was, although he did not seem to feel nearly as relieved as Volusenus.
He understood why when Pullus asked cautiously, “We certainly appreciate your support, Primus Pilus, but what happens if Mancinas makes a stink about this and goes to Germanicus?”
Sacrovir did not answer directly, instead countering, “And what will he say exactly? No matter how he tries to dress it up, the facts are that three of his Centurions and three of his Optios walked into a taverna that is well known to belong to your Cohort. And Germanicus will know that if he starts asking questions, we’ll be able to provide about a hundred witnesses, including the owner, that Furnius and his men came in hunting trouble.” As Sacrovir spoke, Volusenus became more relaxed, but then Sacrovir looked at Pullus as he finished, “Besides, if that happens, you can always go to Germanicus and take care of it. You and he have a special relationship, don’t you?”