“Fuck me,” I groaned. “That has to beIvomagus.”
Which it was, and before I had time togather my wits, he was clattering onto the dock, then dismountingfrom his horse to come striding up to us, and I doubt I would haveneeded the torches to see how angry he was. Fortunately for both ofus, he did not make any kind of overtly aggressive move, but it wasnot lost on me that immediately behind him, the black-beardedwarrior and about a dozen other men were following behind him, andthey were most certainly looking for a fight.
Stopping a few paces away, Ivomagus’ tonewas cold, and for the first time, I heard a hint of the same kindof iron that his brother Cogidubnus possessed in abundance.“Centurion, I hope that you have an acceptable explanation for youractions today.”
There was, I reflected, only one way to findout, and that was to tell him everything.
“Before we talk, I would like to seeto my men, and to have this,” I pointed up to my head, which had atleast stopped bleeding, “attended to. Can we talk in ourcamp?”
“No,” he said flatly. “While I willallow you to attend to the things you mentioned, you will come toLord Segovax’s hall immediately after you are finished. And youwill come alone. I will have men waiting to escort you.”
He did not wait for me to respond one way oranother, turning to stride away, but it was the black-beardedwarrior who, not following Ivomagus immediately, walked very slowlypast me, glaring at me as he did so.
Then, to our shock, he growled in barelyunderstandable Latin, “I will kill you one day, Roman.”
Honestly, I was too surprised, and perhapsstill too dazed, to reply, so he took the honors in this exchange,leaving me to wonder: How many of these bastards actuallyunderstand what we’re saying?
Chapter Five
As Gemellus had predicted, the gash onmy head did require being stitched up, and since ourmedici were not with us, it was Alexwho performed the task, completely unmoved by my yelps of pain andgrowls of promised retribution.
“Stop acting like a woman,” he finallysnapped at me. “I’ve helped amputate a man’s arm who’s whined lessthan you have.”
That settled me down, but our squabbling wasnot done when he attempted to swathe my head with a thick bandagethat would have made putting my helmet on impossible. However, thiswas one time I won.
“I have to meet Ivomagus at the lord’shall, and I’m not going there without wearing my armorand my helmet.”
His expression told me that I had made mypoint, so he wound a single layer around my head, although hewarned me, “It’s going to hurt without much padding.”
“It’s going to hurt more if I get myhead bashed in because I’m not wearing a helmet,” Icountered.
“What are you going to tell him,Gnaeus?”
I considered Alex’s question, then saidsimply, “I’m going to tell him the truth.”
He helped me into my armor then, which hehad carried back to the camp, but when he handed me my harness, hedid so by picking up the scabbard, and he frowned.
“It’s wet,” he said. I immediatelyrecalled this would be the case and explained why, but when Ifinished, he did not say anything, instead trying to draw mygladius, the Gallic blade that isnow more than fifty years old and yet is still the best weapon Ihave ever used, but it took him two tries.
“Pluto’s balls, of course!” Iexclaimed, and I was quite chagrined that I had not thought aboutit. “The wood of the scabbard soaked up the water and made itswell.”
He went to the chest that had beenaboard the Brizo and took outthe spare scabbard now holding the gladius I had Decimus Scrofa make in Ubiorum,which was quite battered and had been the scabbard that had heldthe gladius I carried when Iwas Gnaeus Volusenus, a paid man from the Equestrian Order whothought his cac did notstink. While he did this, I grabbed a rag and carefully wiped themoisture from the blade I still think of as my father’s, wishingthat we had some olive oil, but we had run out daysearlier.
“Thank you,” I told Alex as he handedme the old scabbard, which I attached to my harness. “If you hadn’tnoticed that, I might have been fucked.”
I saw that he was pleased, but all he saidwas, “Hopefully, you won’t need to draw it.”
Nodding to him, I left the tent,walking to the PortaPraetoria, and I cannot say I was surprised to seethat, just as Ivomagus had promised, there were a half-dozenParisii warriors, but there were seven horses. Without being told,I walked over and leapt onto the horse’s back; if this impressedthem because I was fully armored, I was not complaining. None ofthem said anything, but when they kicked their mounts and beganheading towards the hall, I followed along. I was not fooled by howthree of them chose to ride ahead, and three behind, but I feltreasonably confident that I was safe enough, for the moment. Wecould see the hall from a good distance; the outside was lit bytorches, and we trotted up to the entrance, the doors being closedthis time, and I swung down without looking anywhere but straightahead, mainly because that black-bearded bastard was standing withsome other warriors, and I felt his glare on me as I walked past.Honestly, I did not trust myself enough to look in his direction; Iwould liken it to two fighting dogs who are separated only by someiron bars, both of them wanting to tear into each other. In fact, Iexperienced what I would describe as an itch in mygladius hand whenever I was aroundsomeone I really, really want to kill, and at that moment, he wasat the top of the list and my hand was itching. One of the doorsswung open, and I entered to see that Ivomagus was seated at thesame table where we had held our
