“Greetings lady, I am Otto, the sworn companion of your grandson, Tribune Lucius Taurius Longius called Boxer.”
Aelia smiled and raised him to his feet. She craned her neck to look up at him.
“I am well aware of my grandson’s name and rank, Otto but I have never heard him called “Boxer” before….”
“That is the name given him as a mark of honour in the legion, lady,” Otto explained.
She raised one eyebrow.
“Is it indeed? Well, we shall get used to it no doubt.” She placed one hand on Sabina’s shoulder. “My daughter-in-law thinks you are going to murder us all. Are you going to murder us?”
“No lady; why would I do that?” said Otto, looking puzzled.
“Because, unless I am very much mistaken, you are German and everyone knows Germans kill and destroy for the pleasure of it.”
Otto looked into her unafraid, smiling face and burst into laughter.
“Oh lady, I did not know you were joking at first.”
Sabina did not appear to be much reassured and glared at her mother who ignored her.
“In any case,” the old lady said, “both of you smell of horses and sweaty bodies so go bathe and be sure to put on clean clothes before we eat.
Chapter 16
Janus the porter was also the family bathhouse attendant and had lit the fire to heat water as soon as he could after the young master and his friend had arrived. Now Otto and Lucius sprawled on the stone benches in the small steam room letting the heat melt the aches and strains out of their muscles. They both sighed with pleasure as they relaxed.
In the main house, the atmosphere was tense.
“I will not have that savage in my home, Vitius. Do something.” Sabina demanded of her husband.
“What do you suggest?” he asked.
“Throw him out, or have the slaves throw him out. I don’t care as long as he goes from under my roof before he cuts our throats.”
Vitius held up one hand for calm.
“I’m sure Lucius would not….”
“Lucius? Lucius?” Sabina spat. “What does he know?”
Vitius raised his voice.
“He is a grown man and a soldier. Publius Quadratus would not have given him his own military responsibilities if he did not respect his judgement…”
“Well then that German animal can go and stay with Quadratus but I refuse to let him spend one night under my roof.”
Vitius frowned but said no more. He turned on his heel and left the room.
Fresh out of their baths and wearing clean tunics, Lucius and Otto were ushered into the dining room by Pinerus, the family major domo, who also acted as secretary to Aelia and Vitius. He had been with them all his life and although now freed, did not choose to leave “his family”. The room was decorated with views of a garden full of flowers and birds shown through false window frames painted onto the walls to deceive the eye. Otto ran his fingers over one of the scenes and smiled. Three couches and two low chairs were laid out around the table. They took their places with Otto on a chair next to the couch on which Lucius lay back and directly opposite Sabina and Poppaea who shared their couch. Sabina reclined with Poppaea sitting upright at the foot. Vitius had the last couch and Aelia took an ornate chair of her own. Pinerus poured the wine, clapped his hands and dinner was brought in. There were sliced loaves of bread, a baked mullet, roasted fowls, a platter of spiced sausages and dishes of olives, pine nuts and vegetables. There were several smaller bowls of fermented anchovy sauce.
Pinerus supervised the two slave women serving the food, poured the wine, bowed and left. Everyone except Otto took some bread dipped in the fish sauce. Following the others, he tried it, pulled a face and gagged. Vitius and Lucius laughed a little.
“It is what we call garum; an acquired taste,” Vitius told him.
The family began to talk across the table. Most of it was too quick for Otto to catch. He could manage quite well one-to-one, but the crossflow of several people speaking at once still confused him.
It was unfortunate that the sausages had been placed in front of Otto. He took one and bit into it. He licked his lips and took another, then another and kept eating until they were all gone. Poppaea watched, smirking but fascinated. Sabina’s fear had turned to resentment and she glowered across the table at him but Otto was too busy putting away sausage and bread between gulps of wine to notice. Vitius rang a small bell by his hand. Pinerus came in.
“Yes master?” he intoned in his mellow voice.
“Ask the cook if there is any more sausage,” Vitius asked.
“Yes,” Sabina spat. “It appears that our so-called guest has eaten the whole plateful. If there are none left in the kitchen, perhaps you might bring in a bullock for him or a couple of whole pigs.”
“Please,” Vitius began, “he was not to know that the dishes are shared….”
“Naturally he wasn’t,” his wife broke in. “How could he know how civilised people behave at table? He is a low barbarian and I am surprised at you, Lucius, for showing your lack of respect for me and your family by bringing something like him under our roof. There, I’ve said it,” she finished and glared around the room defying anyone to contradict her.
In the shocked silence following her words, comprehension broke in on Otto; all the sausages had not been meant for him. He blushed deeply.
“I am sorry. The plate was put in front of me….” he began but Sabina cut in once more.
“Oh, don’t apologize, next time we’ll have a trough filled up and put outside on the step for you.”
Otto flushed even deeper red. Lucius put one hand on his shoulder to reassure him.
“Pinerus, please have two mattresses and some blankets placed in the summerhouse,” he said and rose to his feet. “Otto, take some bread and those roast fowls.” Lucius picked up the wine jug and two cups. He looked directly at his mother. “You have insulted my sworn companion and you cannot do that without equally insulting me. I shall not sleep under this roof and the protection of our household gods until you invite both of us back,” he said and walked out with an unhappy Otto following.
“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic,” she called after him. “There’s no heating in the summerhouse, you’ll freeze.”
“I doubt it will be as cold as on the German border, dear,” Aelia told her daughter-in-law in a quiet voice.
Vitius glared at Sabina, his face white with anger but he mastered himself and said nothing in front of the rest of the family and servants. They would speak later, in private.
Some wooden garden benches had been brought into the summer house for storage. By the time they were dragged into position, Pinerus arrived with a slave carrying their mattresses and blankets. Two beds were made up. The benches were too short for Otto whose feet would dangle over the end of his but both he and Lucius had slept under far worse conditions. There was still some light in the sky and it was too early for sleep so they sat companionably eating and drinking.
“I am sorry to have eaten all the sausage,” Otto said and looked at Lucius with such a sad expression on his face that Lucius burst into laughter. After a moment’s pause Otto joined him.
When Vitius opened the door and stepped in he saw the two of them wiping their streaming eyes between guffaws.
“You did get through a hell of a lot of sausages,” Lucius managed to gasp out.
“But they were so good,” Otto responded after two attempts.
Vitius sat down beside his son who filled his wine cup and handed it to him.
“Sorry, father, you’ll have to share with me.”
Vitius drank a little then looked over at Otto.
“I apologise. I am humiliated that a guest has been made unwelcome in my home,” he said.
Otto waved the chicken wing he held in his right hand magnanimously.
“The lady is right. I do not have good Roman manners. And she thinks I will do harm to all of you, the grandmother warned me.”
&nb
sp; “I must say you are taking it very well…”
“It is not of great importance, sir. Boxer and I are comfortable here and I must not take offence at the words of his mother.”
“You all have to understand that Otto is sworn to me for life, father. He will fight alongside me to the end if necessary, neither would he ever do anything to wound me or my family. That is why he let mother’s harsh words wash over him; for my sake. If any man had spoken to him the way she did, he would be dead by now. If Otto did not kill him, I would,” Lucius said in a matter of fact manner.
Vitius looked at the muscular, hard-faced young man beside him striving and failing to recognise in him the cheerful boy his son had been not so long ago. Otto noticed the strong facial resemblance between them, except for their noses. He thought of his own father who he would never see again in this world. A pang of sorrow went through him but he shook it off, wondering why the will of the gods was so cruel at times.
“Lucius, neither I nor the rest of us have seen you for nearly two years. You’ve changed but I suppose we still think of you as the boy who left us. Please make peace with your mother.”
“Not unless she accepts she has wronged Otto.”
Vitius sighed. “Well you can’t stay in the summerhouse for your entire leave…”
“I shall go over to the city garrison barracks in the morning and arrange billets for us there.”
“I don’t think you can just do that…”
“But I can, father. I am a tribune of The Second Lucan; the most senior serving military officer in the city.”
Vitius sighed as that truth sunk in. He rose to his feet.
“Very well; but take breakfast with us before you go...both of you, sleep well.”
In the night, Otto heard a shutter rattle and snuffling at the door.
“What’s that, Boxer?”
“Nothing; it’s Ursus the guard dog. Janus sets him loose overnight, get your head down… early start.”
They prodded the stable boy awake at cockcrow and sent him to fetch two buckets of water from the well. They washed, spluttering at the sharp cold of the water in the chill dawn and unpacked their armour and weapons from the pack saddles which had been left in the stable overnight. The boy watched entranced as they transformed themselves into glittering warriors while he polished their hob-nailed soldier’s boots.
“Saddle our horses for after breakfast,” Lucius ordered and they strode together around the side of the house.
They clattered into the dining room carrying their helmets under their left arms. The family was once more assembled. Otto seemed even huger in his mail shirt and Lucius looked older and more authoritative in his cuirass. They put their helmets on the floor beside them, shifted their scabbarded swords out of the way and sat.
“Why the display of military pomp?” Aelia asked.
“I have to introduce myself to the magistrate and hand him a letter from Legate Publius Quadratus,” Lucius told her.
“Whatever for?”
“Some legionaries are due to arrive on leave. He will have to consult me before sentencing any of them that get into trouble with the law.”
“The magistrate has to consult you, brother?” asked the incredulous Poppaea.
“Our Lucius is the highest-ranking army officer in Luca,” her father told her.
She giggled.
Sabina stood up and walked around the table to Otto. Her face was strained and her lips pursed into a thin line.
“My husband and my mother in law have pointed out to me that I have broken the sacred rules of hospitality towards you and I….”
Before she could say any more, Otto came to his feet and took her hands in his own. Her eyes widened in momentary panic. He was so tall that her head did not come up to his shoulder and her hands had vanished completely in his broad fists, although he grasped them gently.
“Lady, you are right to say I know nothing of your ways. But as many times as I tell you I will do your family no harm you will always fear me. If you and Boxer will agree, I will sleep in the little house. Then I shall be nearby in case of danger but make no problems, yes?”
He released her hands. She flushed and went back to her seat without replying.
“Well said, indeed, Otto,” Aelia told him and all the family smiled with relief.
The table was set with jugs of milk, fruit juice and water, bread, butter, cheese, olives and cold meats. Otto winked at Poppaea and passed a platter of bread across the table to her mother.
The stable boy trotted beside them as they rode down into the city. He would hold their mounts while they were with the magistrate. The clerk sitting at his desk in the waiting room smiled politely at them as they marched in.
“If you would take a seat, gentlemen, his honour will see you in your turn”
Lucius looked around the spacious high-roofed hall. A dozen or more people were arrayed around the walls on marble benches, some clutching papers which they hoped would prove their case, some staring morosely at the floor, others twitching with impatience. An ornate door at the far end of the room opened. Everyone sat up watching an elderly man bowing himself out. He closed the door behind him, turned, and walked out into the square with a satisfied expression on his face.
Lucius nodded to Otto who marched over to the door, banged on it three times with his fist, flung it open and stepped into the office. Lucius followed to a muted chorus of disapproval from those who had been waiting for much longer than they had, just to be pushed aside. Soldiers were always so arrogant; it was a disgrace!
The portly occupant of the inner office sat open-mouthed at the abrupt entry of the blond giant. He winced as hob-nailed boots crashed down on his ornamental floor. Otto closed the door behind Lucius and stood rigidly to one side. Lucius marched up to the magistrate’s desk, came to attention, saluted and handed over the scroll he had been charged to deliver.
“A letter from the noble Legate Publius Quadratus to the Chief Magistrate of Luca, sir,” he barked.
His honour opened the leather scroll case with hands that shook a little, read quickly then looked up.
“Says here you’re Tribune Longius; are you the son of Vitius?”
“I am, sir.”
“Also says I have to liaise…”
“Not “have to”, but that you are requested to consult me if any of my soldiers misbehave while on leave in the city.”
“Well, there we are then. I shall, of course comply. Are you staying at your family home?”
“I am; you can contact me there. I thank you on behalf of my legate for your cooperation, sir.”
Lucius threw another salute, crashed his boots down on the mosaic head of a nymph, turned and marched out followed by Otto who closed the doors behind them with an echoing bang. Everyone glowered at the two of them but felt it wiser to say nothing.
“Goodbye, and thank you citizen,” Lucius told the clerk politely as they walked out into the pale sunshine.
The stable boy led their horses behind them as they strolled over to the main gate and the military guard quarters. The centurion in command lacked one eye, which explained his posting to a garrison command.
“A courtesy visit, I am Tribune Lucius Longius.” Lucius told him. “I simply wanted to let you know that I am here and that a number of men on leave from the Second will be arriving shortly. You will be given the list by the transport officer in charge of the party.”
“Centurion Decimus Massus. Understood, sir and thank you; another few weeks of wrestling drunken legionaries into the cells,” he replied half rueful, half smiling.
“Surely the city-watch is responsible for policing?” Lucius enquired.
“Technically yes, but in practice one of your lads can sort out half a dozen watchmen so we get roped in to assist. Might I ask how things are going on the Rhine, sir?”
“Difficult as ever, Centurion Massus; did you serve there?”
He put one hand up to his empty eye-socket barely covered with a b
lack patch.
“No, I never did; got this in Africa. Your bodyguard, he would be a German then?”
“He is; one of the Suevi people.”
“Gods above and below but he’s bloody big. Are they all that size?”
“Tell the centurion how old you are Otto,” Lucius said with a laugh.
“I am now seventeen,” he replied with a salute to the one-eyed officer.
The centurion made the sign to deflect bad luck.
“Let’s hope you reach eighteen safely but what size will you be if you reach twenty-five?” he asked.
The interview finished on that note. Otto and Lucius walked across to where their horses were being held.
“Why did the officer make that sign with his fingers?” Otto asked.
“To keep bad spirits away; a lot of people believe seventeen is an ill-omened number. You can rearrange it to read “VIXI” which means “I lived”. If you have lived, you must be dead; bit stupid really,”
Otto raised his eyebrows and shook his head. Was there no end to the complications these people made of daily life?
“Boxer, I want to buy something before we go back.”
“Well, you aren’t short of money. What do you want?”
“I want boots with no nails so they will not break your mother’s floor pictures,” he said, pointing at his feet.
“Now that is a good idea,” Lucius replied.
The ill-tempered cobbler told them he had nothing remotely big enough to go around Otto’s feet and in any case why did they want new boots? The ones they were wearing were perfectly good. When it became obvious there were not going to leave empty-handed, he reluctantly got up from his bench and rummaged around in the back of his shop.
“Try these,” he said when he came back throwing a pair of red, soft leather boots to Otto.
They were his exact size.
“Made them last year for another freak of nature but he never collected them. Now you, soldier, let’s look at your feet,” he told Lucius.
Once fitted, they discussed how much; the cobbler named his price. Lucius laughed and made a counterproposal. The tradesman walked to his open door and spat into the street.
Knight of Rome Part I Page 17