The Forgotten Legion

  'Nobody will find us, will they?' he whispered to Brennus.

  Smiling, the Gaul threw a massive arm round his shoulders. 'We 're in the legions now. As long as we can fight, no one gives a damn.'

  Romulus glanced across at their new commander who was talking to a fellow centurion and the captain of Achilles. He had taken an instant liking to Bassius, whose composed manner was rubbing off on the new recruits. Few seemed to be warriors, but they appeared happy enough sitting on the gently moving deck. It was not surprising that the old officer had picked both him and Brennus for his unit. The two centuries on the trireme, one hundred and sixty men, were mostly Gaulish farmers, dressed in worn tunics and trousers and armed with an assortment of longswords, spears and daggers. The rest of Bassius' cohort he had seen embarking at the port were similar in appearance. The centurion's relaxed attitude to their status was more clear now. Apart from the sailors, the gladiators were almost the only warlike ones on board.

  Crassus' need for thousands of mercenary soldiers had meant practically every able-bodied man who presented himself for service had been enlisted. Plenty of landless peasants were in search of employment, victims of Caesar's campaign in Gaul. Whole tribes had been displaced from their lands. News of the campaign must have reached a long way for these farmers to have journeyed to Brundisium.

  It was warmer below and many men had chosen to sleep there rather than on the deck where the breeze off the sea blew strong and chill. Romulus and Brennus secured a sheltered spot in the stern and made themselves comfortable. They sat wrapped in woollen blankets, chewing on bread and cheese bought earlier in the bustling market near the harbour.

  'Enjoy it.' Brennus shoved a piece into his mouth. 'Could be our last fresh food for a while. It'll be bucellatum and acetum from now on.'

  'What?'

  'Hard-tack biscuit – dry, miserable stuff, and sour wine.'

  'We should be able to scavenge for supplies in Lydia, don't you think?'

  Standing over them was a slightly built man with a thin face and long hair bleached blond by the sun. Gold winked from an earring in his right ear and a small crooked staff hung from one hand.

  'Do you mind if I sit?' The stranger carried himself easily.

  Brennus sized him up. 'Suit yourself,' he said, shifting over.

  Romulus had not noticed the man before, who was of indeterminate age, somewhere between twenty-five and forty. His chest was protected by an unusual hide cuirass covered in linked bronze rings and he wore a short leather-bordered skirt similar to those worn by centurions. A viciouslooking double-headed battleaxe hung from his back by a short strap. Dangling from a narrow belt was a little pouch and on the deck by his feet sat a well used leather pack.

  'Have you just joined?'

  'What's it to you?' Romulus did not yet feel safe.

  The stranger unslung his axe and sat down with a sigh. Reaching into the bag, he pulled out a large piece of dried pork and cut off a few slices with a sharp dagger. 'Care for some?'

  The Gaul's eyes lit up. 'Thanks. Don't mind if I do. I'm Brennus and this is Romulus.'

  'Tarquinius is my name.'

  Romulus proffered a piece of cheese and the newcomer accepted it with a nod.

  Brennus pointed at the iron blades of Tarquinius' axe. 'Mean looking weapon.'

  'It has its uses,' he replied, rubbing his hand along the wooden shaft with a smile. 'And I'll wager you can handle yourself in a tight spot.'

  'I can if I have to!' Brennus slapped the longsword he had taken from the ludus and all three laughed.

  There was silence as they ate. The sun had set, leaving a thin red line along the horizon to mark its passage. Soon it would be completely dark and overhead the sky was filling with stars.

  'There will be terrible storms on the voyage,' said Tarquinius suddenly. 'Twelve ships will be lost, but this one will be safe.'

  They both stared at him with shock.

  'How can you tell?' asked Romulus nervously.

  'It is written in the stars.' His voice was deep and sonorous, almost musical.

  He talks like Ultan, thought Brennus.

  The breeze strengthened for a moment and Romulus shivered. 'You are a soothsayer?'

  'Something like that.' He paused. 'But I can fight too.'

  Romulus didn't doubt that. 'Where are you from?'

  'Etruria.' There was a faraway look in Tarquinius' eyes. 'North of Rome.'

  'A citizen?' Brennus said quickly. 'Why aren't you in a regular legion?'

  Tarquinius gazed into his eyes and smiled. 'What are two runaway slaves doing in the army as mercenaries?'

  'Keep your voice down!' hissed the big gladiator.

  The Etruscan raised an eyebrow.

  'We 're no slaves,' Brennus muttered.

  'Then why has the young man got such a fresh wound on his upper arm?' Tarquinius responded. 'Just where a brand should be.'

  Romulus guiltily pulled down his sleeve, but it was too late. Lying down had let the rough fabric of his jerkin ride up his arm, revealing the telltale stitching. 'We got waylaid on our journey,' he muttered. 'The roads are dangerous, especially at night.'

  Fortunately no one else seemed to be paying attention. Other soldiers were busy settling down for the night.

  Tarquinius raised an eyebrow. 'And I thought you were gladiators.'

  Their shocked faces told him everything.

  'I am . . . was . . . the best fighter in Rome! Bought our freedom with my winnings,' blustered Brennus.

  'If you say so.' Tarquinius fingered the gold ring that hung from a chain round his neck. It was decorated with a scarab beetle. 'Nothing to do with the death of a noble, then?' Olenus has been avenged, he thought with satisfaction.

  They both stiffened.

  How can he know about that? thought Romulus with alarm. He wasn't there.

  There was silence as the Gaul laid a hand on his sword. 'No,' he said stonily.

  Tarquinius did not react to the obvious lie. 'I myself have no wish to be known as an Etruscan. I joined the cohort as a Greek.'

  'What are you running from?'

  'We all have something to hide.' He smiled. 'Let's say that, like you, I had to leave Italy in a hurry.'

  They relaxed slightly.

  'You speak Greek?' asked Romulus.

  'And many other languages.'

  'Why are you telling us all this?' Romulus self-consciously rubbed his wound, which would have to remain hidden until it had fully healed.

  'Simple. You both look like fighters. More than I can say for those sorrylooking bastards.' Tarquinius jerked his head dismissively behind him. The Gauls were definitely farmers rather than warriors.

  Brennus gave them an appraising glance. 'Bassius will knock them into shape. I've seen worse specimens turned into good soldiers.'

  'Perhaps. You are the warrior.' Tarquinius reached into the satchel again and produced a small amphora. Pulling the cork with his teeth, he offered it to Brennus.

  The Gaul did not accept.

  'Don't trust me?' Tarquinius barked with amusement and took a deep swallow before offering it again. 'We have a long journey and many battles lie ahead. Why would I offer you poison?'

  'I apologise. I've spent too many years in the ludus,' said Brennus, taking the wine. 'You have shared food and drink and I have only been rude in response.' He held out his right hand.

  The Etruscan gripped it with a smile and the slight tension that had been present since he introduced himself disappeared.

  'And you, Romulus?' The soothsayer's eyes danced. 'Would you be friends also?'

  Romulus chose what he said with care. 'I will be your friend if you will be mine.'

  'Wise words from one so young!' Tarquinius threw back his head and laughed again, drawing the attention of the nearest Gauls.

  They clasped forearms.

  For some time, the three sat enjoying Tarquinius' wine, talking about what they might find in Asia Minor. As the air cooled, the other recruits curled up and s
lept in wool blankets. To Romulus' delight, the Etruscan was full of knowledge about their destination.

  'Very hot, I can tell you.'

  'Worse than Rome in the summer?'

  'Like a baker's oven during Saturnalia. And nothing but sand and rocks as far as you can see.'

  'Still better than a crucifix on the Campus Martius,' interjected Brennus.

  'True,' replied Tarquinius. 'But Mesopotamia will be like Hades itself.'

  'I thought we were going to Jerusalem.'

  Tarquinius lowered his voice. 'Not many know it yet, but our general is set on invading the Parthian empire.'

  Romulus and Brennus looked at him blankly.

  'The Parthians live in the Mesopotamian desert east of Judaea,' explained Tarquinius. 'Beyond the River Euphrates.' Quickly he outlined the geography of the region to them.

  Intrigued, Romulus soaked up the information.

  'Go on.' Brennus was also interested.

  'Rome has been at peace with Parthia for some years, but Crassus intends to change that.'

  'How can you know this?' asked the Gaul.

  'Before enlisting, I sacrificed a lamb to Tinia. The Romans call him Jupiter,' replied the Etruscan. 'And the liver clearly showed a campaign into Parthia.'

  Brennus became less scornful. Ultan had been able to read the future from animals' organs and had accurately predicted many things – including his own tribe 's annihilation. He shivered, remembering the druid's last words to him. 'Why, though?' he asked.

  'Simple! Seleucia, the Parthian capital, is wealthy beyond compare.'

  'But Crassus is already the richest man in Rome,' said Romulus. He had seen the evidence with his own eyes.

  'Money is not the only thing driving Crassus. He's tired of Pompey and Caesar's successes. A successful military campaign is the only way to reclaim some glory.' The Etruscan chuckled in the darkness. 'Popularity with the people. Power over the Senate and equestrian class. That is all that matters in Rome.'

  Up till then Romulus had been vaguely aware of the politics and intense rivalry between the members of the ruling classes, but as a slave it had affected him little. Life had been a constant battle for survival, affording him no time to ponder deeper meanings and who controlled what. But Tarquinius' words made perfect sense – the nobility were in control of the campaign, just like the gladiator contests they had left behind.

  It did not feel right. He had thought they were free.

  'So this is just another Roman invasion.' There was palpable anger in Brennus' voice. 'Will they never be satisfied?'

  'Only when they have conquered the world,' Tarquinius replied.

  The big man stared up at the stars, brooding.

  'Nearly four centuries have passed since my people were vanquished. Yet I still grieve,' Tarquinius whispered. 'Just as you must about the passing of your tribe.'

  Brennus' face filled with anger.

  The Etruscan raised both hands, palms extended. 'I was passing through Transalpine Gaul a while back. Heard about the Allobroges' final battle. They said that thousands of Romans had been killed.'

  Pride flared in Brennus' eyes. 'What makes you think I'm an Allobroge?'

  Tarquinius smiled. 'Not much. The pigtails you had till very recently. The longsword. The way you talk.'

  The Gaul laughed and Romulus relaxed.

  The ship's timbers creaked gently as it moved through the water.

  Romulus had rarely considered how the Romans were responsible for the suffering of other peoples. Now, seeing the emotion on Brennus' face, the truth hit him hard. The dozen races of fighters in the ludus had been there only because of the Republic's belligerent tendencies. Like Tarquinius and Brennus, their tribes had been massacred for their wealth and land. Rome was a state based on war and slavery. Romulus suddenly felt ashamed of his blood.

  'Some races are destined to be greater than others and they will stop at nothing to achieve it. Such are the Romans,' said Tarquinius, reading his mind. 'That doesn't make you personally responsible for their actions.'

  Romulus sighed, remembering Gemellus' rants about the founding principles of the Republic having long been subverted. All that seemed to matter now was for nobles such as Pompey, Caesar and Crassus to retain power, using the blood of ordinary men and slaves to make them rich. It was a chilling realisation. Romulus swore silently that once the campaign was over, he would never again submit to the Roman system.

  'What happens is pre-ordained. When it was time, Etruria fell. Now Rome's influence is growing.'

  'Nothing happens by chance?' asked Romulus.

  'Nothing,' answered Tarquinius confidently. 'Not even you and your sister being sold. Not this journey. Or your future.'

  The hairs on Romulus' neck rose. 'How can you know about Fabiola?'

  But the Etruscan was in full flow. 'And all the while, the world keeps turning. We are just swept along with it.'

  'Every fool knows that the world is flat!' interjected Brennus.

  'No. You know much, but the world is round, not flat. That is how we can travel around it without falling off.'

  The Gaul was taken aback. 'Where does this knowledge come from?'

  'I spent years of my childhood under a great master, Olenus Aesar.' Tarquinius bowed his head.

  Satisfied, Brennus nodded respectfully. The secrets of druidic lore had also been taught to Ultan by his predecessor. Perhaps Tarquinius would be able to shed some light on the old man's prophecy?

  'I want to learn things like that,' said Romulus eagerly.

  'It will all be revealed.' The Etruscan lay down, stretching out his legs on the deck. 'Can you read and write?'

  Romulus hesitated. 'No,' he admitted.

  'I will teach you.'

  He burned to ask more questions, but Tarquinius had turned away to gaze at the night sky. Romulus lay back on his blanket, enjoying the movement of cool air across his skin. Their new friend's revelations had been incredible. Nobody on Achilles had met either of them before today, yet Tarquinius had known about both Fabiola and the Gaul's tribe. And what had happened outside the brothel. Clearly full of mystical ability, the Etruscan could also read and write. These were rare talents.

  Being taught to use a stylus would be Romulus' first step towards real freedom. His doubts about leaving Italy began to dissipate. With two friends like Brennus and Tarquinius, there could be little to worry about.

  The Gaul was snoring loudly in the darkness, oblivious. The noise kept Romulus awake for some time.

  'Tarquinius?' he whispered, still eager to talk.

  'What is it?'

  'You know where Brennus and I came from. Our backgrounds.' How I killed Caelius, he thought with a shiver.

  'Much of it.'

  'So tell me what you are hiding.' Though it was dark Romulus could feel the Etruscan's gaze.