which left them free to walk, but made it impossible for them to make any attempt to gain their freedom.
At night we camped, the yokes held by ropes fastened to stakes hammered into the ground, and Mucius talked.
‘This seems a fine country, Atilus. I’ve half a mind to settle here when I’m released. I could open a wine shop in London or Colchester and take things easy. A wife to take care of things, a slave, maybe, to do all the hard work, what man could wish for more?’
He belched over his bowl of wine.
‘Take Germany, now. That’s where I did most of my service. Forests so dark you could walk in them for months, and a barbarian behind every tree. We’ve settled the Rhine and things aren’t too bad there now, but the winters are hard. I remember one time when I went to relieve a man on guard, we found him frozen as stiff as a board. You couldn’t stand still a minute if you didn’t want to stick to the ground. I’ve seen men who had to cut boots from their feet before they could move. Do you get winters like that?’
‘Not often,’ I admitted. ‘But it gets damp.’
‘That’s bad.’ He helped himself to more wine from a skin he’d managed to sneak into the supplies. ‘Damp can hurt the bones and make a man creak when he tries to stand. I’m too old for that. Just give me a little comfort and I’ll be happy. Spain, now, the sun is hot there like it is in Capua. That’s where I was born,’ he explained. ‘A decent city and a fine arena.’ He fell silent, brooding, staring into his bowl. ‘Damned woman,’ he muttered. ‘She was a real hell-cat.’
‘Your wife?’
‘My mother, stepmother, that is. My father was a fool. He could have fixed himself up with a nice young slave girl, but he had to get ambitious. She had a little property of her own, a widow with a snot of a son, and he thought it would be smart to combine what they had and go into business. He had as much idea of trade as I have of flying, and they skinned him. She never let him forget it, nagging all the time and making life hell. Finally he wound up taking care of the beasts at the arena. A nursemaid to a bunch of animals. I can smell them yet.’ He stiffened. ‘What’s that?’
‘A wolf.’ I listened to the distant howling. ‘It’s calling for a mate.’
‘Have you ever hunted them?’ He answered his own question. ‘No, of course you haven’t, you’re too young. We had some at the arena once. They broke out of their cage and attacked some bears, then turned on the keepers. A couple had their throats torn out and another lost a hand. For a while it was as good as an actual event at the games, blood everywhere; then they called in the archers to take care of them. My father was blamed and had to pay for some of the damage. I thought my stepmother would go mad. That’s when I left home and joined up.’
‘Because she quarrelled?’
‘Not exactly. I fetched her a crack with an empty amphora of wine and thought it best not to hang around.’ Mucius threw the dregs of his wine into the fire. ‘Well, I’d better go the rounds. You still hungry?’
‘Yes.’
‘Boys are always hungry.’ He handed me a lump of cold porridge. ‘Don’t forget the water for the morning.’
I’d offered to bathe his eyes; he woke with them crusted and it was an effort to part the lids, but water warmed at the fire dissolved the dried pus and cleared the lashes. In a way it was serving Rome, but I liked the man and I needed the food he could give me. A weakness perhaps, but a small boy, alone, could not be blamed.
My mother did not blame me. That night she came even closer and I could hear her voice.
‘Atilus, my son, live. Live to grow into a man. A boy can do little against Rome, but a man—live, my son. Live!’
A message sent with the aid of the gods who now watched over her. One I would do my best to obey.
We reached the coast where we were to take ship for Boulogne. Winter was coming and, with it, storms, yet the port was busy. More troops, officers coming to take over their command, couriers and with them a host of civilians and slaves; men to take care of accounts, others to win what they could from the new province.
Mucius reported to a tribune and was told to load us on a ship due to leave within the hour. It was a round-ship used to shift cargo, fitted with oars and a big, square sail. The oars were used when entering and leaving harbour, the sail when on the open sea. The master was annoyed at the extra cargo.
‘The wind’s wrong,’ he complained. ‘If it shifts we’ll be in trouble. And I’m overloaded as it is.’
‘If you want to complain, don’t do it to me.’ Mucius was curt. He had expected to pass us over and return to his legion; now he had to take us on to Boulogne. ‘I’ve got my orders.’
‘Mine come from Neptune.’
‘And mine from Aulus Plautius via his tribune. And he gets his from the Emperor. If you want to argue with him, I don’t. Now, do we get moving or stand here all day?’
The voyage was a nightmare. Even though Mucius kept me with him, I was sick most of the time, and it must have been terrible for those locked in the hold. At Boulogne we were taken to an empty shed and given a meal of beans boiled with turnips and fragments of meat, some bread, and a measure of vinegary wine. The man doling out the food hesitated when he saw me, but Mucius snapped, ‘Give him the same as the rest.’
‘A boy?’
‘A war-captive of the Emperor, and don’t you forget it.’ He had suffered during the voyage and his temper was short. ‘Now get on with it and let’s have less of your mouth!’
I didn’t drink the wine, but gave it instead to a man who had bruised his face when he had fallen in the hold. He took it without thanks and sat, brooding, for the rest of the night.
In the morning we were fed again, told to wash, and then assembled for the inspection of the buyers. They thronged into the shed, some simply curious, others intent on purchase. Among them was a Greek with curled and scented hair, a burly man with scarred hands, and a fussy little person with a cap which had flaps that could be lowered over the ears.
The Greek called out to him as he passed down the line.
‘Don’t take them all, Capaneus. Others have to make a living, and we haven’t all got the backing of the Statilius family.’
‘I’ll take what I need.’
‘But why be so particular? Anything’s good enough to provide a show.’
‘That’s why you’re falling out of favour, Thalidies,’ said the burly man with a laugh. ‘More than one Master of the Games had told me that unless you provide better wares, they’ll not waste their time dealing with you.’
‘Perhaps.’ The Greek shrugged. He had full lips and his fingers looked like worms. ‘They’ll change their minds when the crowd roars and contenders run short. Anyway, Brachus, a tip for your ear. I’m not going to Lyons this time. I’ll leave the market open to you. Just remember the favour when I ask you to accommodate me some other time.’
‘What favour?’ Brachus scowled. ‘The time you do anything to help me is the time I watch for a dagger in the back. Greeks, who can trust them? Hurry now, Capaneus.’
The agent made no comment. He stared at the man to whom I’d given the wine.
‘What were you, chariot or sword?’
The man stared, not understanding the Latin. The agent frowned, suspecting insolence, lifting his hand to signal a guard who stood to one side. He held a whip with lumps of lead knotted into the thong.
I said, quickly, ‘He doesn’t understand you.’
He looked at me in surprise then said, ‘But you do? Good. Ask him the question. What did he use in battle, chariot or sword.’
‘Sword,’ I said immediately.