The Golden Dice - A Tale of Ancient Rome (33 page)

Drusus stood to attention and rattled out his answer. “I was only twenty, sir. I now see her for what she is. I vow to do all I can to see her punished.”

The general studied the tall, lean soldier for long moments. Pinna thought Drusus would buckle under such scrutiny, but he managed to remain straight-backed and unflinching. Finally, Camillus turned to Marcus. “And you? Would you swear such an oath?”

Pinna wondered why the general was so persistent in testing Marcus’ loyalty to Rome. The Aemilian had already declared that he put the state’s purpose above all else, but pledging to see his cousin executed required ultimate allegiance. Marcus also stood to attention. “Yes, sir. She has dishonored my family. I swear to seek retribution.”

His lack of hesitation was impressive, yet Pinna knew Marcus to be adept at lying. Hadn’t he shown similar certitude before when assuring the general that Drusus didn’t seek personal revenge? And his ability to repress his true feelings for his friend showed him to be a master at deception.

Camillus also examined Marcus as though weighing whether his sentences were a bluff. “Strong words,” he finally said when the officer did not waver from meeting his gaze. Then he put his hand to his neck, stretching it from side to side, bored with continuing his inquisition. “Keep rubbing,” he said to Pinna. “My headache has not shifted.”

Marcus stood to attention. “Will that be all, sir?”

“
Yes, you’re both dismissed.”

The officers saluted, but as they turned to leave, Camillus summoned Marcus once again. “I hope you would have no objection to Pinna visiting me while you’re absent.”

Surprised, the girl stopped her task, her hands remaining on the general as she waited for the answer. Yet what could Marcus do other than agree? He was hardly going to deny his commander relief from pain. He saluted again. “Of course not, sir. No objection at all.”

Camillus bent his elbow and patted Pinna’s hand as it lay on his shoulder. His action was so unexpected it startled her. The contact was brief, though. She longed for a repetition.

“
Because, you know she’s the only one who is able to ease my pain.”

Pinna nodded to Marcus in gratitude for consenting. He ignored her. Then she caught sight of Drusus. The grim line of his mouth and the harshness in his eyes proclaimed that it was not just Vel Mastarna whom he wanted dead.

Glossary

Cast

His decurions gone, Camillus groaned and pressed his fingers against his temples.

“
A poultice will help you, my lord,” Pinna said. “The heat loosens the muscles. Go inside and lie down while I prepare one.”

“
I don’t have time to rest.”

“
It is because you sleep so little that you suffer. Come, none of your men would begrudge you some respite. And no man would ever accuse you of weakness.”

Camillus rose and entered the tent. Pinna liked the subtle power she exerted over him. It reminded her of how Fusca could coax her father.

Breaking the hard puls bread into pieces, Pinna placed it in a cook pot and moistened it with water. When it had turned to porridge she ladled some of the mixture into a bowl, adding mustard and vinegar. The afternoon was hot and the fire only added to the temperature. Sunset would not be for hours.

Carrying her basket and the bowl inside, she found Camillus lying on his cot, eyes closed.

The interior was roomy enough for his officers to gather and consult with him. It was furnished austerely with only a pallet, chair and wooden table. An unfurled map was held down at the corners with paperweights, and scrolls and correspondence were stacked in a pile together with his stylus. His panoply was positioned against one wall, the boss on his shield and the bronze pectorals on his corselet molded with a wolf’s head, teeth bared, threatening and terrifying. A wolf’s pelt, not a sheepskin, covered his bed.

When she knelt beside him he opened one eye to view the bowl and bandages, then closed it again. “I suppose you’re going to slap mustard on me.”

She stirred the porridge. “You know the vinegar lessens the burn. Besides, a general should hardly fear a little heat.”

He smiled and shifted his shoulders to make himself more comfortable on the bed.

Pinna was no longer worried about being bold. The first time she’d teased him she expected him to bark at her. Instead he indulged her joking. In fact she thought he rather liked it when everyone else about him was careful of what they said. She also suspected he liked flirting, although there was a boundary set between them. He never made advances nor did she encourage them.

Sometimes he would talk to her. Like Genucius, he would tell her his worries in the quiet times when the pain eased. Their conversations were different to the plebeian’s, though. Whereas Genucius expected her to keep her opinions to herself, Camillus let her speak. She knew she was not the only one to whom he listened. He made it his business to know all that happened in his camp. He visited the sick and injured, and inspected the healthy too. Here was no patrician officer aloof from his soldiers. He recalled the names of all he commanded. He knew the veterans’ histories too: how they had gained their wounds, how often they had volunteered to fight for Rome. She saw how they would grin when he hailed them, appreciating being the center of his attention, even if just for one brief moment.

She was no different. He flattered her when he sought to learn her story. She only told him part of it: that she was a daughter of a soldier; that her father had been forced into bondage; that she was orphaned. He thought she was an impoverished citizen. The other part was fanciful. She was a little ashamed she found it so easy to lie, telling him that she’d found work in the House of Aemilius and then caught the eye of its young master.

She dreaded he would discover her secret. For there was another type of woman in the camp besides army wives. Whores escaping from Faliscan townships. Pinna kept clear of them, fearing that they would sense her old profession. Considering them disruptive, Camillus did not approve of their presence, but tolerated them for his men’s sake.

“
Please sit up for a moment, my lord. I need to apply the poultice.”

Camillus complied without comment, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward, his hands cradling his head.

His decision to raze Faliscan crops weighed on Pinna’s mind. Rome needed that corn. And the camp would suffer also when supplies were low. Camillus was both courageous and cruel to allow Rome to suffer so that he could defeat a foe.

She pushed down the edge of his tunic at the neckline so she could smear the moist mixture onto his skin. “My lord, won’t you find it hard to let our people suffer when they cry out for succor?”

He turned his head and frowned. “Do you think me heartless, Pinna?”

“
Of course not, my lord.” Her heartbeat doubled, worried she was displeasing him, and yet the memory of experiencing drought and famine drove her to continue. “It’s just that I know what it’s like to be desperate for food. To scrounge in the dirt for husks to eat. To watch the misery of withered cattle dying in dried-up river courses, their carcasses picked clean by crows.”

He straightened his back and studied her. To avoid his gaze she began bandaging his neck so that the mess was held in place against his skin. He placed his hand on hers to hinder her. Her heartbeat trebled at his touch.

“
What a hard life you’ve had, Pinna. I feel for the plight of your family. I am sorry your father was enslaved due to Rome’s failure to reward him with booty and land. And yet you should remember that before his bondage he answered the call for the levy every year. He wanted to fight. He understood that failing to do so only threatened our city’s safety. Don’t you think he would be prepared to experience short-term privation for long-term gain?”

Pinna sat back on her heels and reluctantly withdrew her hand from under his. He talked of his sympathy for the common soldier and yet wagonloads of loot were stored in the enclosure ready for Marcus and Drusus to transport to the treasury. The sight of Faliscan armor, coins and jewelery piled high next to water, food and forage rankled. Camillus had the chance to lessen his men’s debts and yet he never granted them part of the spoils. If not for their loyalty to the general, discontent could easily descend into mutiny. “What gains would that be, my lord? When all the plunder is sent back to Rome.”

She waited for him to order her to leave. To her surprise he sighed. “Little citizen, you must understand that the more booty paid into state coffers the less war tax need be levied. If I rewarded my own troops with some, less would be available to benefit all.” Once again he pressed his fingers against his temples. “Rain must come soon, Pinna. And then Rome will be able to reap its own crops. And if I am successful, Romans will plant seeds on the land of our enemies as well. Warriors like your father will finally receive their share.”

Seeing the yellow of the mustard was bleeding through the bandage, Pinna busied herself wrapping another layer of cloth around his throat. His words reminded her of his conversation in Marcus’ house last autumn. She took a deep breath before she spoke. “Even though you said to Senator Aemilius that promises cost nothing when it comes to giving land to the plebeians?”

She was confused when he smiled, the creases around his eyes deepening. “Ah, I forgot that you listen, not only hear. But the matter is complicated.” He lay down upon the bed and closed his eyes. “And until Rome unifies, then conquers its enemies, all of this is merely talk.”

Sensing he wished to be alone, Pinna rose, knocking over the oil flask. Thinking it a bad omen because she had challenged a general, she scanned the tent for the amphora of wine and then ladled some onto the floor without permission. When she looked up Camillus was watching her.

“
What are you doing?”

“
To spill oil is ill luck, my lord. Pouring a little wine afterwards is a protection.”

“
That’s just superstition.”

She pointed to his golden ring. “And yet you tap that often enough. Is that not a way to ward off the evil eye?”

He swiveled the ring around his finger. “I took this from the Volscian who speared me in the thigh. I did not realize I tap it.”

“
Maybe you are more superstitious than you think, my lord.”

His voice hardened. “No, I just like to remind myself what can be taken from you in defeat. Only women or weaklings who believe in dark forces need superstitions to protect them.”

She bowed her head. “I am sorry, my lord. My mother taught me to believe in magic. I did not mean to offend you.”

He settled his head on the pillow again, his tone less sharp. “Do not mind me. I am quick to temper today.”

The afternoon sun was still strong as it beat upon the leather walls of the tent. It had grown stuffy, the lack of air causing Pinna to perspire. She saw that he was sweating, too. She checked the poultice. “It’s not burning, is it?”

He rolled his neck from side to side. “No, but the warmth is spreading.”

“
Then rest, my lord, rest.”

“
You treat me like a child.”

She smiled, packing away the bowl and flasks in her basket.

“
But I do not want you to be my nursemaid.”

Blushing, she swung around, not sure what to say. Was he merely flirting? He turned on his side to study her. “It’s such a pity you belong to another.”

Her heart raced again. She wanted to blurt out the truth that she was Marcus’ concubine but he was not her man. Or was she just imagining that Camillus desired her? Her hands trembled as she gripped the handle. “Marcus Aemilius is a good man, my lord.”

He lay back on the cot and closed his eyes. “Yes, and honorable. As am I.”

She lifted the tent flap and murmured. “My lord, I do not want to be your nursemaid either.” She did not know if he heard her. His eyes remained closed. He did not move.

Glossary

Cast

Preoccupied with her conversation with Camillus, Pinna’s footsteps were slow but her spirits light as she walked through the encampment.