It was not—he was certainly rightabout that—but after a brief discussion with the seamen, none of uscould come up with an alternative that did not threaten to makematters more difficult. We did talk about the idea of marching themto the camp and keeping them there, but the prospect of thosetownspeople who had been waiting for their loved ones to bereleased seeing them being herded down that muddy street out oftown was not appealing, because I was certain, as were the others,that the Parisii townspeople would try and free the slaves.Consequently, there was something of a celebration as we allowedthe last of the Parisii who had been enslaved to row theBrizo to reunite with their familiesand friends. I did not notice it myself; it was actually Alex whopointed out that the other slaves who the Parisii crew had been soadamant to see freed were barely noticed and were left to roamaround completely ignored. Under other circumstances, it would havebeen something I would be concerned about, but this was a matterfor Cogidubnus from my viewpoint, and I ignored them just like theParisii. By the end of the first daylight watch, the ship wassitting essentially upright as if it was in the water, with stouttimbers on both sides bracing it so that it was in this posture,while Motius, Cador, and two of the other crewmen were hard atwork. Because it was out of the water, Motius had requested severalmen to perform a task that he said was part of a yearlymaintenance, scraping the hull free of what he said were small seacreatures with hard exterior shells that, for some reason, couldslow the ship down. I did not see how, nor did I argue the point;besides, it held the prospect of unpleasant duty, and even in theshort period of time we had been here in Britannia, Mus andSaloninus had put the names of several men on the punishment list.That was why they found themselves using their pugiones to pry the creatures off of the hull,then scraping the wood clean, while trying not to gag because,apparently, these things smell foul. With the ship braced, a ladderhad been set against the side, where Cador was busy supervisingsome of my men as they removed the splintered remains of the oldmast, which like almost everything with this endeavor, was notnearly as straightforward as it would seem. Meanwhile, I stoodthere with Cogidubnus and Ivomagus as the two Parisii watched, andI will confess I had an uneasy feeling because of their obvious andavid interest in how we worked.
More than once, Cogidubnus would saysomething that Ivomagus translated, and it was invariably along thelines of, “You Romans are the most organized and efficient peoplewe have ever encountered. It is easy to see why you have conqueredso many people.” However, I am almost positive that it was comingfrom Ivomagus when he added, “It is a fault of our people. We arepassionate, and we are fearsome warriors, but those passions coolquickly, and it is next to impossible to get the tribes tocooperate with each other for more than a single campaign season.Which,” he finished ruefully, “Vercingetorix of the Arvernidiscovered with your Julius Caesar as you know.”
I looked at him in astonishment, and beforeI could think about it, I blurted out, “You know about Caesar’scampaign in Gaul?”
The look he gave me seemed to be equal partsamusement and, if I am being honest, a bit of disdain.
“I know that you do not think much ofthe Parisii or the other tribes of Britannia, Centurion,” hereplied acidly, “but we are not the ignorant and backwardbarbarians that you would make us out to be.”
Honestly, I felt somewhat ashamed, but Itried to hide that by asking, “How did you learn about Caesar’scampaign?”
“Why,” he answered with a smile, “Iread his account, of course!”
I stared at him, not sure whether to believehim or not, but I saw nothing in his gaze that indicated he waslying, and without thinking, I burst out laughing, which clearlysurprised him, although after a heartbeat, he joined in.
“Of course you read about it.” Ichuckled, then thought of something. “Is that how you learned howto speak our tongue?”
“Partially,” he replied. “My fatherhad two sons, and one he wanted to be a warrior, but the other hewanted to be educated in your ways. And,” he said with what soundedlike bitterness, “I was the one who was the student, while mybrother became a warrior.”
Perhaps this was what prompted me to say,“You know, I have read Caesar’s account also. But,” I could notkeep the pride from sounding, “I also have read another accountabout it as well.”
This got his attention, and he regarded mewith interest.
“There is another account? I havenever heard of it,” he said, and I heard the doubt there, althoughI could not blame him.
“That’s because,” I said quietly, “itwas written by my great-grandfather. His name was Titus Pullus, andhe served Rome for forty-two years, and he was with Caesar’s10th Legion.”
“The10th!” Ivomagus’ eyes wideneda bit. “The 10th Legion wasvery famous, and I remember reading about them in Caesar’saccount.”
“You mean,” I grinned, “about the menof the 10th who rode with himto meet the German Ariovistus?”
“Yes, that’s it.” He nodded, and if Ihad been wavering before, I made my decision then.
“My great-grandfather was one of thosemen,” I told him. “He was just a Gregarius…a common soldier, butbecause he was my size and he had already been decorated by Caesarfor bravery during the 10th’sfirst campaign in Hispania, Caesar chose him to be one ofthem.”
“He was your size?” Ivomagus asked,and I nodded. “How do you know? Did you know him?”
“No,” I answered. “But my father did,and my father was my size as well.”
“He was your size?” Ivomagus, as I had learned, didnot miss anything.
“He died,” I said, regretting that Ihad opened my mouth, but I felt compelled to tell him the truth. Oras much of the truth as I was willing to divulge. “Last year,during our first campaign against Arminius. He fell inbattle.”
“I am sorry, Centurion,” Ivomagussaid. I know he meant no harm, but then he said, “You did not haveto see
