‘Gods in the heavens,’ Barbinus groaned, as soon as Lucius and Marcellus were out of earshot. ‘That was a trial.’
His overseer, Nicos, was a man who was allowed certain liberties, so he replied with an ironic grin and in a sonorous tone of voice. ‘The most noble Lucius Falerius Nerva is famed for his probity, master.’
‘He’s Nerva all right, but he’s also a prick, man, and a damned greedy one at that. Do you know how much the tough old bastard charged me for that Sicilian dustbowl of his?’
‘I fear too much,’ Nicos said.
‘I’ve a good mind to turn the whole price into copper asses and drop it on his head.’
‘Would that kill him, master?’
‘It might.’
‘Can I advance the opinion that might is not good enough.’
‘You’re probably right, Nicos. He’s the power in the land and I, who own dozens of farms, must bow the knee to him. The gall! I had to practically force a gift down his throat.’
‘To think, with those big cats it could have been the reverse.’
‘You paid the sutler off?’
Nicos nodded. ‘Half the agreed fee, master.’
‘That much?’
‘He threatened to go to a praetor and make a case. I reasoned that it was easier to settle for half than suffer the bother.’
‘You’re probably right. Anyway I decided to gift him Sosia to replace them.’
‘Ah!’ Nicos replied, looking away.
‘That’s not a problem?’
‘No, master.’
Barbinus dug him in the ribs. ‘Lining up to take her were you?’
Nicos looked shocked. ‘Would I?’
‘If my back was turned, yes,’ Barbinus insisted. ‘You will steal any of my rights as a slave owner that you can and you know it. If you weren’t so good with money and ranch running I’d have strung you up by the thumbs years ago.’
‘A gift of a virgin is very complimentary, master. A noble sacrifice indeed.’
‘I think she’s safe with old Lucius. He’s so hung up on being snooty I doubt he knows he’s got balls between his legs but the youngster had his eye on her when she was serving, so perhaps he might be the one to do the deflowering.’
‘Two virgins,’ said Nicos.
‘Messy,’ Barbinus replied, his eyes rolling in the fat that surrounded them. ‘Perhaps she should be prepared.’
‘May I humbly offer my services, master,’ Nicos said.
‘Offer away, man, but I do think that I should do the deed. After all, she’s going to be patrician meat, so we should start her out as we mean to finish. Fetch her to the spare guest chamber. I’ll go there as soon as I’m sure old Lucius is asleep.’
‘As you wish, master,’ Nicos replied, turning away, the curse on his lips hidden from Barbinus.
‘By the way, how long have we had that young fellow who tends the sheep?’
‘What young fellow?’
‘The one I saw today. Nearly got in the way of the leopards, funny coloured hair, what I could see of it. Odd, I don’t remember buying him.’
‘We do breed our own occasionally,’ Nicos replied, wondering who in the name of Jupiter his master was talking about. The man who tended the sheep was an addle-brained Celt. Not that he was about to say so; it would never do to show ignorance to someone like Barbinus.
Aquila had penned the sheep and returned after dark, something he had done before when the senator had been entertaining and Sosia had been kept back to serve. He waited, with Minca, sitting with his back to the part of the wicker fence that served as their meeting place, looking up at the star-filled sky and wondering that the heavens could contain so many gods. He was also wondering what it took to call them down to his aid. He would like to have done that today, perhaps a thunderbolt from Vulcan to strike down that scented prick who let loose those leopards, but as the thought came so did the conclusion; the boy was rich and he was not. Master Marcellus, Barbinus had called him. If he wanted the gods to intercede for him, no doubt they would queue up to do so.
Aquila shivered and stood up, realising by the position of the moon that it was much later than he had thought. Looking at the house he could see that the whole place was in darkness, barring the few oil lamps left burning for the watchmen to do their rounds. He leapt over the fence, followed by the dog and scurried over to the back of the slave quarters, to tap gently on Sosia’s shutter. The lack of response made him tap harder, to no avail. Perhaps Barbinus was still up, and if he was then she might be too. He decided to investigate, and he edged round the slave quarters building and moved slowly towards the main villa, looking for the light of oil lamps that would tell him there was still activity, but there was no sign of that or Sosia, so Aquila, reluctantly, resigned himself to the idea that she was not coming and turned to make his way back to the fence.
The single scream that rent the air made him freeze, right out in the open, where anyone looking out onto the moon and starlit courtyard would easily see him. Was it animal or human, and what direction had it come from, the house or the nearby forest? Minca growled, one paw went up and his snout quivered. Aquila waited, his ears straining for another unusual sound, but there were no others, save those that belonged to a forest. The hoot of an owl, the swish of an autumn wind blowing through packed branches. He decided it was a fox in pain that had screamed, no doubt the victim of some larger predator. Aquila pulled at the dog’s ears to make him follow, and headed for the fence and home.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Thanks to work already done by Aulus, the first units of the 10th legion could move out within the week. He gave up any pretence of working through Vegetius, and at the council of war no one was left in any doubt who had assumed command. He carefully questioned everyone present regarding recent intelligence, making full use of the map on the table before him. Finally Aulus made his dispositions and laid out both the routes, as well as the order of march for the main body.
‘We have to go looking for our rebels but whatever happens our troops must not be caught in extended order in broken country. If our forward elements find an enemy force, they are to retire fast on the main body to give us time to be ready for battle. Our aim is to draw the rebels onto a position of our choice, preferably a spacious piece of flat ground with a single secure flank, where our superior discipline and mobility will give us an advantage.’
‘We have a numerical advantage anyway,’ said Vegetius loudly, seeking to assert himself.
In order to appear martial at this conference he had abandoned his toga and donned his armour, breastplate, greaves, his horsehair-topped helmet under one arm. Given his flabby body and weak countenance it made him look faintly absurd rather than military.
‘Are you privy to some information that has escaped me?’ asked Aulus, his voice as hard as the look in his eyes. A good head taller than Vegetius, even in a plain smock he looked every inch the Roman general set against a leather-enclosed tub of lard.
‘Not that I know of,’ Vegetius stammered in reply.
‘So you don’t actually know the strength of the forces opposing us?’
‘A ragtag army of rebels and malcontents,’ the senator protested, looking for support in the faces of the others present. None came as he added, ‘What am I saying “army” for. I shouldn’t dignify them with the name.’
Aulus gave a thin smile. ‘I will treat them with respect until I’m sure that I can do otherwise. I suggest, Vegetius, that you do the same.’ He looked around the room, full of the assembled officers of the 10th legion. ‘Gentlemen, I have, as you are aware, a successful record as a soldier. If that sounds immodest, I apologise. Lest
