“Centurion Pullus,” Ivomagus began,stepping out of the way so we were facing each other, “this is mybrother Cogidubnus, King of the Parisii.” Turning to his brother,he rattled off some gibberish, of which I only understood my rankand name as he indicated me with a hand.
I instantly understood that, as awkward asit felt a moment earlier, it was even more so now. I certainly wasnot going to salute him, so I was actually about to extend my handwhen, before I could do so, Cogidubnus said something to hisbrother, but keeping his eyes fastened on me, so I made sure toreturn the stare. Once the king was finished, I could tell thatthis was about to get worse, as Ivomagus hesitated, doing so longenough to the point where the king snapped something that causedhis brother to stiffen.
It became apparent why he did so whenhe turned, and said with obvious reluctance, “My brother,the King,” I knew hisemphasis was no accident, “says that it is customary for anystranger who appears in our lands and meets the King to bow as ashow of respect.”
“That’s not happening.” The words cameout before I even thought about it, and now Ivomagus looked as if Ihad just slapped him, but I was not finished. “I am a Centurion ofRome, and I am a representative of our Imperator, Tiberius CaesarAugustus, and neither the Imperator nor Rome bows to any king. Iwill not bow.”
Now that I was done, Ivomagus appeared as ifhe was seriously considering leaping off the dock, swimming back tothe ship and taking his place on the bench, and there was nomissing the pleading tone in his voice.
“Please reconsider, Centurion,” hebegged. “This is a point of pride with my brother, and…”
“And it’s a point of pride with me,” Icut him off, but I had an idea. “Your brother is an accomplishedwarrior, is he not?”
“He is the greatest warrior of theParisii,” he replied immediately.
“Then tell him that while I amforbidden to bow to him, I will offer him the salute that we Romansuse when we meet a great warrior like your brother.”
It was thin; oh, it was very thin, butthankfully, Ivomagus did not hesitate or argue with me, insteadturning back to Cogidubnus, whose eyes had never left me, and spokerapidly. When he finished, the king said nothing; only then did Irealize how deathly quiet it had become, as hundreds of peoplewatched on, wondering what was about to happen. This time, I amcertain that at least ten heartbeats of time passed before, with abarely perceptible nod, Cogidubnus agreed.
What was this “warrior’s salute,” you mayask? And, if whoever of my descendants read this who may haveserved or are serving under the standard when they read this havethe thought, “I’ve never heard of such a thing” …you would becorrect. I made it up.
I stiffened to intente, then offered the kind of salute allRomans make to a superior officer, thumping my chest withconsiderable force before I thrust my arm out rigidly, and if Imade an extra effort to flex the muscles of my arm to make themstand out, it should be understandable why I did so. For his part,for the first time, Cogidubnus’ expression altered, and I saw whatI took to be a bit of surprise, pleasure…then confusion. This wasconfirmed when, again without taking his eyes off me, he askedIvomagus something.
“My brother wants to know if it isrequired that he return this salute, Centurion.”
“No,” I lied. “This is the way a Romanrecognizes a great warrior. We do not expect him to return it inkind; just an acknowledgement is fine.”
“Acknowledgment?”
Gritting my teeth to hide my impatience, Isaid, “A nod will suffice.”
Then it was over; Cogidubnus inclined hishead in what I suppose one could call a regal fashion, and Idropped my arm. The collective sigh of what I suppose was relieffrom every onlooker made it sound like a gentle breeze, and itcaused the king to offer a slight smile that lifted one corner ofhis mustache. With this out of the way, I had hoped we would beable to proceed to negotiate the terms of our exchange of slaveswith resupply and repair. I quickly learned differently when, aftera brief exchange, Ivomagus turned back to me.
“My brother says that you must be veryhungry and thirsty. I,” he added somewhat apologetically, “told himof our, I mean your…” he cocked his head, then said, “…I cannotrecall the word.”
“Predicament,” I offered, and henodded.
“Yes, your predicament, so he isoffering his hospitality to you. He has ordered that a meal beprepared, and we can discuss matters over that.”
“What about my men?” I askedimmediately. “I’m not going to go off and stuff my face while mymen are on that fucking ship starving.”
I realized after it happened that I had useda vulgarity that is so common under the standard, but it appearedas if Ivomagus did not understand what “fucking” meant, at least inthat context, because he turned and spoke to Cogidubnus, who lookedirritated.
Impulsively, I spoke up, “Tell your brotherthat as a great king and warrior, he knows the importance of takingcare of his men before his own needs are seen to.”
He listened, and for the first time, I sawan amused glint in his eye as he glanced over at me, but he alsonodded.
“He says that we will bring baskets ofbread that can be rowed to the ship while we talk in a more…privatesetting.”
Once again, I felt some sympathy forIvomagus, but while this was not exactly what I had in mind, I alsorealized that refusing to bend would only make matters worse.
“That is very gracious of him,” Ianswered. Turning slightly, I indicated the ship. “Just give me amoment return to the ship to tell my officers what is happening,then I will be happy to go sit with your brother and talk aboutwhat we need.”
Once translated, the king nodded hispermission, and I wasted no time, striding to the boat with Motius,who I had completely forgotten was there, joining me.
Indeed, as we pushed away from the dock, hegrumbled, “I do not see why you had me come along, Centurion.”
I pretended to be surprised.
“Why?
