Amulet I Read online

  Chapter VII

  “A friend is long sought, hardly found, and with difficulty kept.” - St. Jerome.

  ‘You did very well there lad’ Asinnius said as we walked back to the camp. It was still raining and the soft mud splashed on my grieves as we walked. He slapped me on the back.

  ‘Is that all you can say? I almost won!’ I said feeling somewhat carried away with my first success.

  ‘Second isn’t first. There's only one winner and that was Meridius. You did well though; I never thought you would get past the second round. Maybe Fortuna smiled on you and you were lucky!’ Asinnius smiled, pleased with his teasing, ‘You will get a prize, you know.’

  ‘A prize? What kind of prize?’

  ‘You get to come with us to Pontus.’

  ‘Pontus?’

  ‘We've been ordered to Pontus to serve under Lucullus. He's going to annihilate that Mithradates fellow. That Pontic King been a thorn in our flesh for years and the Senate are sending us with another legion as reinforcements, to root him out. He’s been the Pontic King for years and his daughter is married to the Armenian King. We’ve defeated him before but he always gets away and hides, then comes back with another army. "Unkillable" they call him. "The Great King" is another title.’

  ‘I thought you said I got a prize.’

  ‘That is the prize! You get to go on a trip to foreign places. You don’t even have to plan where your food is coming from. Uncle Asinnius will see to that!’

  ‘Very bloody funny! I went through all that, so you could win money betting and all I get is nothing.’

  ‘Yes, yes, poor Aulus. Now run along back to camp and get cleaned up. You have to be back here when the Champion gets his prize. I’m told it’s a silver statue of a man wielding his sword. If they give you a statue it'll be one of a man lying on his back, with blood running down his arm!’

  I made my way back through the mud to the field for the prize giving ceremony.

  I was used to the teasing and barracking I received in the army. I was one of the youngest in my century and although the other soldiers teased me, they were fond of me. That was the main reason why, when it came to battle as it had in Crete, I had difficulty getting anywhere near the fighting. My comrades tried to keep me safe in the back of the century, to my intense frustration.

  My closest friend in the army however was Junius, a country boy from Aretium. Junius had grown up on a farm near Aretium and we had met when I was on manoeuvres in the north of Etruria. We first became acquainted outside a bakery in the main street. It was crowded with soldiers who were on leave in the town, much to the disgust of the locals. Junius was delivering a sack of flour and as he jumped from the cart had landed on my foot.

  'Jupiter's Balls! My foot!' I said hopping.

  'Sorry, it was an accident.'

  'An accident my foot!'

  'Yes,' the tall fair country boy said, smiling.

  We looked at each other and I smiled then laughed.

  'Really, I'm sorry,' he said.

  'I'll accept your apology if you buy me a cup of wine.'

  'Let me just deliver this flour and I'll be pleased to buy a round. My name is Junius Sinna.'

  'Aulus Veridius Scapula, at your service,' I said and saluted with pride.

  I helped him carry the sack into the bakery and we walked a few yards down the road to a tavern.

  'This one will do. The wine here is pretty good.'

  We sat outside in the sunshine and began swapping stories. He was a farm worker and although one could not describe him as streetwise, he knew all the local politics and gossip.

  'So you've lived in Rome all your life?'

  'Yes.'

  'Wish I had,' Junius said, 'this place has no future for a man, it’s dull as the mud it's built on. All I ever do is use a pitchfork and sweep out the stables with a broom. Wish I could train to use a sword like you.'

  'It's not so hard. The worst bit is the drill. We have to march in lots of formations and learn to move as one man on command. Weapons drill is just as tiring, but it's going to make me a warrior for Rome. Here,' I said, passing him my gladius.

  'It's beautiful,' he said. He swung it from side to side.

  'Not like that,' I said, 'It's meant for stabbing. It's too short to use in that way. We form up with shields together and use the short sword to stab over the shields and between them. In a press of battle when the enemy is crushed up against our shields, the barbarians have no chance to swing their swords. Well I don't know from experience yet, but my centurion, Asinnius told me about it.'

  'Will they teach me to use a gladius if I join up?'

  'Of course, you wouldn't be much use wielding a broom. Mind you, we're learning to dig ditches and put up palisades too. We're the greatest engineers in the world!'

  'I don't know how I'll stand being a farmer. It's the most boring work in the world.'

  'Why don't you join up? The pay is good and the work is tiring but worth it. More wine?'

  'Thanks. Maybe I should join up. Even my father was a legionary once. He fought in the army of Marius. I only know country life though. I don't know anything about fighting and I've never been to Rome either.'

  We swapped stories of our daily life. I told him of life in the Subura. I told him how I had stolen and got caught in the greatest city in the world. Junius talked of life on the farm and the local country affairs, politics and gossip, which held me spellbound. We had nothing in common; but we shared our sense of humour and this made the whole afternoon a pleasure for us both. It was an island of time, which allowed us to escape the present.

  We laughed most of that afternoon, sitting outside in the torpid sunshine at the tavern. As a basis for friendship, it was not very meaningful but it was the most fun either of us had experienced for weeks. Most of the soldiers in my century were much older than I was and to meet and chat with someone my own age was a pleasure. I secretly hoped Junius would join.

  The afternoon flew past. When we parted, I was sure he would take the plunge. He did join up and I was always amazed that he failed to blame me for the hardships we endured. At times, he seemed almost grateful. To my mind, it showed the strongest facet of his character; he was loyal.

  Those first months of training, as raw recruits in the Ninth Legion were most remarkable because of the relief we felt when they were over. Junius and I had drilled repeatedly for weeks; triple lines, double lines, wheel to the right, wheel to the left, open order, close order. It had driven us both to distraction, but as the army toughened us up, our friendship grew. It had helped us get through the hardships and there had been good times too.

  I often remembered with embarrassment, a girl we had shared in Crete. Now that was a woman! Junius had needed to push me into her arms before anything happened, but we had shared her services in our drunken haze, going halves on her fee. It forged a further bond between us.

  When I walked back from the camp, I could hear the assembled voices of the men of my legion. A huge sound, seven thousand men talking, laughing, shouting and scuffling as bets were collected or reneged upon. I felt good. I felt as if I was becoming someone at last. Men would know my name and I was proud. I had to push my way through the inebriate mass of men to get to the centre where the Legate, Quintus Tullius Cicero was ready to present the prize to the winner of the contest.

  Cicero was a man of medium height, with short curly black hair and a frowning serious face that seldom cracked into a smile. His men held him in high respect for he was a man made to lead men. He had fought in North Africa, Crete and Spain and had been awarded almost every honour that the army could offer. His best qualification in our eyes was that he fought in the front line when needed. He was a swordsman, an equestrian and above all a fair leader.

  Cicero stood on a small but sturdy podium, erected in haste for the contest. Typical of Roman soldiering it was substantial and were it not on the Campus Martius it could have stood for fifty years. He looked out at the sea of faces and fo
r once, he smiled.

  'Hispania! We have seen a wonderful display of swordsmanship to-day. We stand now beneath the eagle and the bull standard of our legion to award the prize of championship to my friend and colleague. He has won it in blood, but happily not his own!'

  There was scattered laughter, even though it was a barely humorous remark. Cicero turned to his orderly who handed him a silver statue. He held the trophy high above his head and shouted so that the men could hear him above the roar of the legionary's voices.

  'Meridio allectus est,' Chosen Man, was what he called Meridius. It was a title labelling him the sole victorious champion of the entire legion. As I found myself cheering with the rest, I began to realise how close I had come to receiving that title myself. The thought was a humbling one. Perhaps next time or the time after that. I still had sixteen years to serve so there was plenty of time.

  'Now for the second prize,' Cicero said with a slight involuntary shudder as rainwater ran down the back of his neck.

  I remained standing quite still for long moments before I realised that the Legate meant me. Eager hands pushed me forwards and I stumbled slightly as I approached the podium. Meridius, descending the stairs smiled and tapped me on the shoulder as he passed by on the steps...

  'Well done youngster, you were very quick, there's real promise in that right hand,' he said.

  I climbed the steps and there was loud applause from the legion. Cicero turned to face me and presented me with a gladius. It was a beautiful weapon; silver wire encircled the ox-bone handle. The blade had letters carved and tempered in an intricate design. 'LEGIO IX HISPANIA'.

  The memory of the last time I had seen that inscription pricked my conscience. It was an aberrant thought, but I wished I could show it to the old prefect, for I now understood what being in the legion was all about. It was for Rome but also for my own pride, and my honour.

  I raised the gladius over my head briefly and there was more applause from my fellow legionaries. My heart soared at that moment. It was the crowning moment of my life so far and I had achieved it myself. It gave me a sudden realisation that this was what I wanted. To be seen by all as a champion and a swordsman. That moment remains within me still, and I look back on it with real pride.

  I bowed to the Legate and grinning, turned to go to the steps.

  'Not so fast young man,' Cicero said, 'How old are you?'

  'Nearly nineteen, sir,' I lied. I was not used to speaking to any officers, let alone the Legate of the entire legion and my nervousness showed.

  'For your age, you have a truly remarkable skill with the sword. I will ask Meridius to help you gain some further skill for I think that one day you will be in his sandals. He is a man of great honour and generosity and I am sure he will be happy to train you.'

  'I am honoured sir,' I said, not knowing what else to say. I bowed again and descended the podium steps to much backslapping and applause.

  'Men,' shouted Cicero, 'There is just one more announcement. You sail in a week for Pontus. You are to join Lucullus and crush the Pontic King, Mithradates. You will bring fire and sword to Pontus. Ready yourselves!'

  His men roared their anticipation and the assembly broke up.

  Junius approached me and slapped me on the back.

  'Aulus, you really did that well, you nearly won.'

  'No there was no chance, Meridius is incredible.'

  'Let's discuss it in the tavern. I have just the place in mind. A little place off the Forum Boarium, where the serving girl has big prospects,' he indicated the front of his chest, 'she's been encouraging me all week. Maybe she has a friend for you. She is too pretty to share.'

  I blushed as we walked across the crowded Campus Martius, I still remembered the girl in Crete with embarrassment.

  We walked to the tavern and I began to wonder about Meridius. Would he become my tutor? Would he be, like Gennadius, someone to let me down? It prodded me with a feeling of insecurity. I did not want to invest the emotion of being a pupil, dependant but learning, only to feel threatened and let down once more.

  I had guilt too and grief for I realised that Gennadius had been kind. He had been so necessary to me and had given me so much that discarding him, because of his sexual needs, pricked me with guilt as well as the anger that had led me to survive on the streets of the Subura.

 

  BOOK II: PONTUS