by Karrie Roman
“I said I will see to it, Paulus.” Varus’s voice raised over all others. Whoever Paulus was, Varus was clearly not pleased with him.
“They ask too much coin for safe passage.”
Drusus could see the man, Paulus, talking to Varus now. He looked to be a merchant, and given his words, Drusus had no doubt he’d been charged too much for safe passage by soldiers in one of Varus’s outlying forts.
“Yes. Yes, they do. Aelius has taken note of your complaint. I must attend to this meeting with my officers now, but I will ensure your matter is resolved.” With that, Paulus was dismissed, and he knew it, taking his leave immediately.
Aelius, Varus’s tribune, hurriedly bundled the parchments he’d been writing on and added them to the pile of letters already on the legate’s desk. He reached for another parchment to take notes on the coming discussions.
“Settle,” Varus commanded the assembled men who had been mumbling quietly amongst themselves. “I call you here to tell you all of talk of mounting unrest some distance away and a possible uprising. I merely intend to make you aware of the report before we depart camp. I expect no problem, and in fact, I give the news very little gravitas, but it is my duty to share the report with my officers.”
There was continued silence in the room. Despite being called to these meetings under the pretext of giving their opinion, all of Varus’s centurions knew he wasn’t especially interested in them, and giving a differing opinion to Varus often led to his displeasure and some form of subtle punishment.
The centurions stood around the wall of the room with Varus, his tribune and other officers clustered around the large desk with a map of the region splayed out upon it along with the teetering pile of letters. The map was held down in the corners by clay weights and candle holders. A bust of Augustus sat on one corner of the table surrounded by statuettes of various gods and goddesses—none bigger than Augustus. Elaborate oil burners were scattered about, lending light for Varus to work in. The opulence of the governor’s office was always mesmerizing to Drusus.
Drusus allowed his gaze to wander to the faces of those present. He did not like the look of concern on Segestes’s face nor the smugness on Arminius’s. Suspicion whispered in his ear.
Perhaps another time Drusus would have held his tongue, but now more than ever, with his brother to be mindful of, Drusus did not want to be pulled into any foolish or unnecessary battles.
“Legatus Varus,” he called, fully aware of the surprised gazes now upon him. “Perhaps a cohort of men should be sent to ascertain the legitimacy of these rumours? It may be nothing, and then the entire legions will not be pulled away a great distance for no cause. Or it may be part of a trap—”
“Gratitude, Centurion. I will think on what you have said,” Varus replied. Drusus heard the disdain in his tone, endured the coldness of his gaze, and knew his words had been wasted. His legate bent to whisper in the ear of the man who stood beside him. They both glanced at Drusus before the other nodded to Varus and quickly moved away.
At least Drusus would know, regardless of what happened, he had tried to advise caution to his commander. He only prayed his gut was wrong and talk of an uprising was nothing more than a harmless rumour.
The meeting finished soon after when no other man offered a differing opinion to Varus. Drusus had wanted to spur others to words when he spoke up, but the men under Varus knew him too well. Segestes remained unhappy, and Drusus hoped he might speak up privately to Varus. After all, Segestes had proven his loyalty both to Varus and Roma, so with any luck, words of caution from him would hold more weight with Varus than his had.
Drusus returned to his barrack and found his men had mostly retired for the night, no doubt in anticipation of a long day of freedom and amusements tomorrow. He went to his room and hurriedly undressed before taking to his bed. The night was yet warm, and his coarse blankets irritated his skin more than usual. Drusus was tense and worried, his nerves on end. He tossed and turned into the early morning hours before falling into a fitful sleep.
AFTER SUCH A restless night, he awoke later than usual. With no duties today, he had closed his eyes against the sunlight when it had first woken him. It was later in the morning than was acceptable for a soldier in the legions to rise when he finally left his room and headed toward the bathhouse. The barrack was unnaturally quiet, so most of his men must have already left for whatever attractions drew them on their days off. The bathhouse would be mostly empty as the other soldiers of the legion would be at their morning training.
Drusus walked toward the bathhouse, admiring as he did so often the permanency of their camp. The stone barracks would last many more years and house thousands more legionaries over that time. More buildings would be added and eventually the village outside would have its shacks demolished to be replaced with permanent dwellings. One day, Vetera would no longer be the frontier of the Roman Empire, but rather a small city much like any within the borders of the empire. When he thought of such things, Drusus experienced a strange sense of being part of something far bigger and more important than his own insignificant life. He felt the true power of the Roman Empire.
He stepped into the bathhouse and was delighted to find he had been correct, and the rooms were entirely empty of all except a handful of slaves. Drusus hung his towel and tunic on a peg in the anteroom. The heat from the bath waters, warmed from the smith’s forge nearby, was already dampening his skin.
As he stepped into warm and refreshing waters, the small aches and pains his body carried constantly eased immediately. The life of a legionary was physically hard as well as mentally brutal.
He eased back on the ledge he sat on and rested his head on the stone lip of the bath. The braziers glowed in the corners providing the only light in the windowless room other than the small strip of sunlight coming from the anteroom. Drusus let out the breath he’d been holding and finally relaxed.
Sometime later, the water around him was displaced, and he cracked an eyelid to see who was nearby. Only a few paces from him, Caius stood in the waters. Drusus swallowed a gasp at his naked perfection. Caius’s legs were long and well formed. His arms were corded with muscle. His back was powerful and broad but tapered down to a narrow waist and the most exquisitely tight arse Drusus had ever seen.
By the gods, Drusus couldn’t drag his eyes away from his beauty. He’d been with many finely formed men, but none had made him crave in quite the way he did for Caius. While his gaze was resting on Caius’s arse, the man suddenly turned, but Drusus wasn’t quick enough to look away. Caius’s cock was thick and long—and mouth-watering. Drusus yearned for a taste, desperately wanting to feel the heft of it on his tongue.
“May I join you, Drusus?” Caius murmured.
Finally coming to his senses at the sound of Caius’s voice and filled with horror because he’d been caught staring, Drusus looked away from the perfect body before him and into Caius’s soft eyes. Eyes which were full of the same wanting that gnawed at him.
“You may,” he managed to gasp out. “You did not join the others in the village, then?” he asked, trying to remain calm and unaffected by the man now lounging in the waters beside him.
“No. It is not for me. I prefer solitude and a quiet bath for a change.” Caius was leaning back as Drusus had been moments ago with his eyes closed. Drusus looked at him. Even in profile he was lovely.
Drusus signalled to the slave standing along the wall. He swiftly brought over a mug of wine for each man. “Leave us,” Drusus commanded. The slave walked through to the dressing room where he would wait until needed. Drusus wasn’t used to slaves. As a centurion, he was entitled to one but had not seen the need. He jealously guarded what little privacy he managed.
“How do you like to spend your free time?” Drusus asked. He kept watching as Caius drank from his cup and considered his question. He briefly turned his beautiful brown eyes to Drusus before letting them fall shut again.
“Do you not remember how little
free time there is on a farm? The beasts call for attention as soon as the sun rises, and there is always work to be done, repairs to be made. By the time I am able to rest my head at night, my body is ready for sleep.” Caius tipped his head farther back, exposing the long column of his throat. Drusus ached to nibble at it and press his lips against the taut skin. His cock swelled at the very thought.
Drusus sat quietly, willing his unruly body back under control. A quick glance around told him he and Caius were quite alone in the baths. The temptation to reach out and touch Caius itched in his fingers as he scrunched them closed and open again in an effort to restrain them.
“Whenever I did get a small amount of time to myself, I would spend it teaching the little ones to read.” Caius’s voice was soft, wistful, as he continued, seemingly oblivious to the predicament Drusus was in. “They are always such fun to be around, but you must be able to shrug off their words. There is nothing more honest than a child.”
“Oh,” Drusus replied hoping to focus on Caius’s words, so his body would finally calm down. “And what did they have to say about you, Caius?”
Caius laughed and then opened his eyes to look once more at Drusus. “The smallest of them told me I must be a giant so old that I had seen at least a hundred summers. And when I made garum for them, some would spit it out, and one even told me it tasted worse than his feet.” Caius laughed again and this time Drusus joined in.
“Did you ask how he knew what his feet tasted of?” Drusus choked out between laughter.
“No. I thought it wiser not to know.”
“You will miss children here in the legions,” Drusus stated. There were children about, sons and daughters of soldiers in the village and the children of slaves, but it wouldn’t be the same for Caius.
“I will.”
“Many of the men find women in the village and have families—”
“No.” Caius stated firmly before turning his body to face Drusus. “I will not be a father, Drusus. That is not the…right life for me.”
Caius had told him he had no real interest in women, but even men who felt the same way married and had children for Roma. It was unusual for a man, even one who preferred the company of other men, to avoid marriage and children altogether. It seemed in this he and Caius were alike
“You mean you will never…be with a woman?” Drusus lowered his voice so they would not be overheard, even though they were alone. If a man wanted to be with another man, no one was especially bothered by it, though some thought it must be left behind as a man aged. But Augustus was trying to bring back the moral code of early Roma, so every man was expected to marry and father Roman children. The emperor had brought in bonuses for those who had three or more children, as well as penalties for those who had none. Caius’s apparent refusal to father children could find him in trouble, not his desire for men.
Caius lifted a hand and gently ran the backs of his fingers down Drusus’s cheek, his hand trembling as he went. His courage, despite his nerves, only endeared him more to Drusus.
“Cai,” Drusus whispered as he leaned into the touch. Oh, gods, the way Caius made him feel. Drusus didn’t know what to do with himself.
“Fortuna has not made me for a woman,” Caius murmured, his lips so close to Drusus that his breath ghosted against his skin. “You are so beautiful, Drusus. Please—”
Drusus surged forward, pressing his lips to Caius’s before he talked himself out of it. Caius’s lips were soft and pliant as Drusus kissed him thoroughly. Drusus sighed into the kiss, and then gasped as Caius’s tongue snuck inside. Not many men he’d been with were interested in kissing and even fewer with using their tongue. He quickly added his own so their tongues danced together while their kiss went on and on.
It was perfect—Caius was perfect—the movement of his lips, his breathy moans, and the way his body squirmed in Drusus’s arms as though he was trying to get even closer. Drusus’s cock was painfully hard beneath the water, and a quick movement with his hand proved to him Caius was similarly aroused.
As Drusus was considering whether to relieve Caius with his mouth or hand he heard many loud voices approaching. And just like that, Drusus pulled away from Caius as though he’d been scalded in the fire.
A group of men entered, filthy from digging trenches, from the looks of them. They paid little attention to Caius and Drusus, but the spell was broken. Drusus had taken back firm control of his body. Caius’s beauty and charms had wrested control from him briefly, but Drusus was in no position to cave to the demands of his body and lusty thoughts.
As soon as his cock finally calmed as much as the rest of him, Drusus stood and stepped out of the water. He hastily dried his body and slipped his tunic on before fleeing the bathhouse. He berated himself for not even offering Caius a goodbye, but he needed to put distance between them.
“Drusus.”
Drusus stopped walking and closed his eyes when he heard Caius call his name. He took a deep, calming breath before turning to face him. He fully expected to find anger in Caius’s features but instead found only hurt.
“Did I anger you, Centurion?” Caius whispered when he approached him.
“No. Caius, forgive me. I should not have kissed you.”
“You do not find me pleasing?” Caius’s confusion was clear, so Drusus had to make him understand.
“You know I do, Cai. But—”
“No. No buts, Dru.” Caius wrapped his hand around the back of his neck. How easy to lean in and capture his lips again, even here out in the open of the camp.
“Caius. There must be a but. I am your centurion. I cannot take advantage of my position.”
“It is not advantage if it is freely given, Drusus. Do you not see how much I want you?”
Drusus looked at Caius’s face. His eyes were wide and hopeful; his lips were full and moist from where his tongue licked them nervously. Drusus didn’t think Caius had any idea how appealing—and very tempting—he was. Drusus was employing every bit of will he had to stop from reaching for the younger man.
“I cannot. How can I fight a war if I have you to worry about? My mind already wanders to you and Cal at the first sign of trouble. If we… I cannot get any closer, Cai. Apologies.”
Drusus leaned closer, his hands moving toward Caius. He was losing the battle to control his body from taking Caius into his arms, despite the words he was speaking. He needed distance. He felt a bastard but could do nothing but turn and run from the man who was making him feel too much. He didn’t dare think of what sadness he might see in Caius as he turned and walked away from him.
Chapter Five
“CENTURION,” VARUS BARKED.
“Yes, Governor,” Drusus replied, spinning to face his commander. He’d recognised the man’s voice instantly.
Varus had been the Roman general and governor of Germania for close to three years now, and Drusus was even now fighting to trust the man. He may be a competent diplomat well suited to mediating trials between and within tribes, but Drusus found him wanting as a military commander. Drusus also found men who were unwilling to listen to the opinions of others foolish and full of their own importance. He prayed to the gods for the tribes to remain quiet and free from war while Varus was in command.
“Take a handful of your men to Haltern and inform the prefect of the Nineteenth we leave in a week to meet up with them. He should make ready for our arrival.”
“Yes, Legate.” Drusus understood this was not an honour he had been given but rather a punishment. The men at Haltern were already aware of the date of Varus’s arrival.
Haltern was their forward base east of the Rhine on the Lippe River. It was only a day’s march, but a small group of Romans would be an irresistible target for any tribe members who wanted to show their brothers Roma was not undefeatable.
Drusus would take twenty men—good, experienced men. He would also take Calpurnius. It would be a dangerous trip but no more dangerous than leaving his acknowledged brother behind to be
the focus of Varus’s anger with him. Drusus had known the moment he spoke against Varus at the council two nights ago he had placed a target upon his own back. Varus was a petty man who would have his revenge against Drusus. He only hoped this would satisfy him.
“Marcus,” he called to his optio.
“Yes, Centurion?”
“I need twenty men. The best twenty of the century. I am to take them to Haltern.”
“Alone?” Marcus asked, clearly shocked. Messengers went back and forth between the camps often but they were on horseback. Their movements were swift, giving them advantage over tribesmen on foot. Besides, felling a lone messenger would not cover the Germanic barbarians in glory.
“Yes… And, Marcus, include Calpurnius,” he whispered. Varus had ears amongst the camp, and Drusus would not have him hear that Calpurnius would be travelling with him until it was too late.
Marcus nodded and gave him a knowing look. Marcus would want to come with him—whether Cal had been right about his feelings for him or not. But the century needed a leader, and Marcus would do in his stead.
He and his men would leave at first light, so Drusus retired to his room to pack his gear. It had been a long time since he’d carried his own pack. One of the perks of being a centurion was, unlike the legionaries, most of his equipment was carried on the wagons. Hard work had never frightened him, so he looked forward to lugging it himself. Even though they should easily make Haltern tomorrow, Drusus would insist upon bedrolls and other equipment for more than a day’s journey. Better to be prepared than caught unawares.
Soon, men began trickling into his room, having been given their orders by Marcus. Drusus waited until all twenty were present before he addressed them. As he looked around at the faces, he was pleased with Marcus’s choices until his gaze fell upon Caius. He hadn’t seen the man since the previous day after the kiss at the bathhouse when Drusus had fled not only the man but the tension between them. He’d never had to fight so hard to keep his hands to himself.