The Carpathian Interlude

Immortui-3

"Third century!" Julius suddenly called, and then they were marching forward to the dais.

Gaius watched with Julius as many of their men, including Vitellius and Antonius, went up onto the dais to be decorated with various armillae and coronae. Gaius could remember the instances that merited the honours; a line being held despite enemy cavalry, the rescue of a fallen comrade etcetera, etcetera. So many deeds.

"Gaius Justus Vitalis!" their tribune called. Gaius mounted the steps to a roar from his men. "Optio," the tribune began. "I present you with this armillae and this torc as symbols of your courage in battle, your leadership and discipline." Gaius felt the weight of the ornaments about his neck and wrist. How they gleamed!

"And I, Optio," the commander began, "present you with this corona muralis for being the first to reach the top of the palisade in one of our major victories. Well done, Optio!"

"Thank you, Commander. Tribune." Gaius saluted them and turned to his century to see his men cheering and Julius grinning broadly like a proud father. Before leaving the dais, Gaius, on seeing the mass of a legion before him, wondered at the power given to a man who commanded so many skilled warriors. He felt, at that moment, that a legion could indeed conquer the world.

Back among his men, Gaius watched, also with pride, as Julius was awarded two armillae, and two coronae by the Commander, making him the most decorated centurion in the legion, more than the Primus Pilus of the first cohort. Julius beamed, a rare occurrence, and even smiled as he raised his vinerod to his men, and to the sun in the sky. He then pointed it at Gaius in loving salute and at that moment the optio never felt more affection for his gruff mentor.

By the time Gaius, Julius and the rest of the century were making their way back to barracks, the men had been standing for hours, the price to pay for so decorated a legion. Now, all looked forward to a feast on extra rations of beef and pork, fresh bread and amphorae of wine for each century.

The two friends were grateful that their century had not drawn the night watch this time.

"Now the lads can drink and dice until they pass out and not worry about it." Julius mused.

"That is until you crack their skulls at first light for drills."

"Aye. Of course. And they won't be easy drills either. Misenus said the commander ordered the drills to be tougher than ever now so as to avoid the men getting fat and lazy on success. We'll have tough days ahead, Gaius."

"Tomorrow will be the worst of it."

"Sirs!" a voice came from behind them as they stepped onto the via Decumana.

"Medicus." Julius nodded to Stefanos as he approached, wiping bloody hands on his surgical apron.

"Centurion. Optio. I've come to tell you the boy has awoken," he said, already walking away. "You'd better come!" he called back.

"Well?" Julius arched the bushy eyebrow that had a scar running through it.

"I'll go," Gaius said.

"I'll join you." Julius followed. "I want to see if this boy has anything useful to say."

The hospital was busy, full of medical staff tending to those troops who had returned from the front with varying degrees of injury and infection. Gaius looked away as they passed a door where one man was having a gangrenous leg amputated. It seemed as though it was taking six men to hold the trooper down. Gaius held his breath as the smell of the rotten limb clawed into the corridor. Stefanos finally stopped at the end of the corridor where he began to unbolt the wooden door.

"You locked him up?" Gaius asked, shocked. "Was that really necessary?"

The medicus rubbed his beard with a blood-stained hand. "He's had a terrible fright. I thought it prudent to prevent him from running away." He paused before opening. "Speak slowly, Optio. Go easy and give him time. He may speak, he may never. He just needs time, and to feel that he is safe."

When the door opened, the room was dark but for a little light through a square of glass at the top of the wall. Gaius and Julius removed their crested helms and stepped in. The boy was propped up against two pillows on the straw mattress of a bed set in the corner. A plate of bread and cheese lay untouched on the table beside him. Gaius took in the pale white skin accentuated by the black hair which had been combed back. But it was the eyes, fearful, darting this way and that, which poked Gaius with pity. He was thankful Julius hung back, unused as he was to children.

"Hi there, little one," Gaius began, kneeling down to eye level with the child. No response. He switched from Latin to Greek. "Hello. Do you remember me? I found you by the river." The eyes came to rest on Gaius, still. A slight nod. The boy began to shake and Gaius took a wool blanket from the foot of the bed and covered him with it slowly. "Do you have a name?"

"Ask him what happened," Julius said in a deep voice from behind.

"Not yet. He's unable to speak, I think."

"Ask anyway. We need to know." Gaius relented, knew an order when he heard one.

"What happened to you? Do you remember?" The boy began to whimper and his eyes began roaming again as he clutched the blanket to himself, tried to sink farther into the corner. "I think we should leave for now, sir." Gaius turned to Julius.

"Yes. Let's. You can check on him later." Julius strode out into the corridor and Gaius turned back to the boy.

"Do not be afraid. You are safe here and I will come back later to check on you. All right?" Gaius left the room, the boy's eyes watching him all the while as he closed the door and slid the bolt home.

"I hope he speaks up soon," Julius said as they made their way to the barracks.

"Me too. Something's scared that poor boy to Hades."

That evening, while Julius feasted with the other centurions, tribunes and commanders in the Praetorium, Gaius joined the men of the century in their own raucous celebration. Wine flowed and platters of roasted meat, fresh bread, cheeses and olives hovered up and down the length of the barracks block. The hot food was good and rich, the wine better. Gaius had been sure to note on his wax tablet that each of his men had received their bonus after the required deposit in their legionary accounts. There was plenty left over after that, and so, following several helpings of food, the men settled down to the serious business of gambling with their new-found wealth. Many others opted to head outside the walls to the civilian vicus where the brothels were no doubt doing a booming business.

"How is the boy doing, sir?" Antonius asked Gaius as they passed a wine jug back and forth. The younger man was red in the face from too much food and drink, swayed where he sat. Gaius laughed a little at his tenacity in trying to maintain a level of decorum despite being far gone.

"He won't speak yet, if he is even able. Medicus says it'll take some time." Gaius took a swig. "He's seen something awful though. I've never seen anyone look so afraid. Not even on the battlefield."

"He must have family or someone…" Antonius mused, even as he tipped backward into the wall.

"Must have…" Gaius answered absently. He slapped the unconscious man on the leg and rose shakily on his own feet. "Sleep well, Antonius." He turned to some of the others dicing nearby. "If he doesn't wake up, put him in his bunk, will you?"

"Yes, sir," the men mumbled.

Gaius grabbed a fresh jug and a last hunk of bread before stepping out into the street to go down the block to his room. As an optio, he was given his own room, unlike the troops who bunked eight to a room, or Julius who had his own suite of centurion's rooms.

He drank more as he dodged drunken men in the street, some singing bawdy songs, some gambling on the cobbles, some puking.

"Gonna be rough tomorrow, lads!" he said to no one in particular. "Go easy!" he laughed, knowing he would feel it too. When he arrived at his quarters, he stepped inside, lit the oil lamps a little clumsily, and bolted the wooden door. He removed his cingulum from about his waist and set it and the attached wax tablet on his desk. It slipped off the edge onto the floor but Gaius left it. His mood was melancholic. He reached for the small wood-painted portrait of Fulvia and his girls. On the wall opposite his bed, the image of Mithras slaying the bull wavered in the lamplight. He took a long draft of the wine and leaned back. His eyes travelled between the images of his god and his family.

"What are you doing just now…" he whispered to his wife, her eyes, her hair, her smile, "I miss you…"

His gladius felt as if it were made of stone, for as he ran, Gaius strained with every fibre of his musculature to keep his pace. The grassy earth was uneven, pocked with rodent holes, and scattered moss-covered boulders. He tripped and fell into the face of a large rock. He gasped for breath, lungs burning with effort, his winded body aching with exhaustion. He looked back at the woods climbing up the mountains, toothy, jagged.

Sleep, just sleep… he thought and then the still air was rent by howls of pain, of rage, and he cried out, ripping himself from off the rock to run toward the distant sun. Behind him, the air grew darker, more roilsome, chaotic. Gaius looked down as the earth grew softer with his every step. From the mossy earth flowed blood from beneath grass, root and rock. His boots sank and he strained more and more with each stride.

Run to the Sun! he told himself. Run to the Sun! Sun Runner!

Hot breath came at him, raising hackles on his neck and seeing no way out, the Roman leaped atop a fallen log and turned, his sword raised as a wave of blood and bodies slammed into him, drowning out the sun, drowning him.

"Optio! Optio!"

It was not so much the voice of his men that woke him, but rather the thud and flex of steel as his pugio embedded itself in the beams where he had unknowingly thrown it.

"Optio, sir!" came the voice again.

Gaius sat on the edge of the bed, cursed at the spilled wine jug where it had pooled on the floor. He stood and went to the door, retrieved his dagger and opened.

"Yes, yes. What is it?" he said, wondering if he had overslept. "Don't tell me I'm late for drills." He knew Julius would have his hide for it.

"No, sir. We're just into the first hour of daylight."

"Good. So? Why do you wake me?" Gaius was not usually so curt with his men, but his head pounded and his tongue felt like he had cleaned the latrines with it.

"Sir. Another civilian from across the river, sir."

"Another?"

"In hysterics, sir. He had blood all over himself."

"So? Why wake me? Sixth cohort was on guard duty."

"I was told to come get you, sir, because the man we found recognized the boy you saved. Seems they may be from the same village."

"All right. I’m coming. Wait outside."

"Yes, sir."

Gaius turned into his room after closing the door. Feeling his stomach lurch he moved to an empty basin and puked.