The Forgotten Legion - Kane Ben (читать книги онлайн полностью без сокращений txt) 📗

They nodded.

The officer tapped the parchment with a gnarled forefinger. 'Put your marks here.'

The pair exchanged a long glance. Once they joined, there was no going back. With a shrug, Brennus picked up the stylus in his huge hand and marked the document. Romulus followed suit.

'Good!' The centurion smiled briefly. 'I'm putting you both under my direct command. Names?'

'Brennus, sir. This is Romulus.'

'Romulus?' he said with interest. 'A good Italian name. Who was your father?'

'Roman legionary, sir.' Romulus couldn't think of anything else to say. 'Mother wanted to honour his memory.'

'There is a Roman look to you. Should have a warrior's mettle too.' He seemed pleased. 'Call me Senior Centurion Bassius. Wait over there with the rest of the cohort.'

'When do we set sail, Senior Centurion?'

'Tonight. The general's keen to start the campaign immediately.'

Romulus stared at Brundisium, now barely visible through the orangeyellow haze. It was nearly sunset, and the sea had changed from bright blue to a deep navy. A gentle breeze was propelling the Roman fleet away from shore. Other triremes could be made out in the failing light, companions to the one they had embarked on. Dozens of long wooden oars made a smooth sound as they moved in unison to cut the water's surface.

The Achilles was a typical low-slung Roman ship with a single cloth sail, three banks of oars and a bronze ram at the prow. The decks were bare except for the captain's cabin at the stern and catapults for attacking enemy ships.

'Good riddance!' Brennus spat over the timbers of the side. 'The bastards won't find us now.'

'When can we return to Italy?'

'A few years. Murder of a noble takes a while to be forgotten.'

Romulus scowled at that prospect. Thoughts of his family, Caelius and Julia had filled his mind on their march south, but he would have to put all such thoughts to one side. It would serve little purpose to spend his time worrying about situations that were now so completely out of his control.

'We should have stayed in the ludus that night.'

'Maybe we should.' Brennus looked east, his eyes distant. 'But the gods meant this to happen. I feel it in my bones.'

Romulus followed his gaze. The horizon was formed by the darkening sky's junction with the black sea, making it impossible to see where they met. Beyond lay the unknown, a world Romulus had thought he would never see. But anything seemed possible now.

He came back to the present with a shiver. 'What will happen to Astoria?'

The Gaul's face grew sad. 'Sextus has promised to protect her and if the gods are merciful, we will meet again. But I cannot avoid my destiny. We had no choice but to run and Astoria knows that.' Their farewell had been all too brief and when Brennus had tried to stay longer, the Nubian had kissed him softly and pushed him out the door. Astoria knew how much Ultan's words meant to her lover. Follow your destiny, she had whispered.

Brennus sighed heavily.

Romulus knew how he felt.

The consequences of the fight had been devastating for both. Brennus' life as a champion gladiator was over, his woman lost. Romulus was wanted for murder and both were fugitives from justice. Unless Astoria managed to get his message through, Julia would have presumed the worst of him for not showing up. Romulus' plans for a slave rebellion were dust, and although he was free it seemed even more unlikely that he would ever see his family again, let alone rescue them. Instead he was sailing into the east, a soldier in Crassus' army.

That meant Gemellus would go unpunished.

He scowled at the chance train of events that had led them to be sitting on Achilles' deck. If only they had not left the ludus. If only they had not stopped outside the Lupanar. If only he had not killed a noble.

But he had.

Romulus took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Like Brennus, he would have to place his trust in the gods. In Jupiter, Greatest and Best. He alone could alter the situation now.

'Reef the sail!' The second in command, an experienced optio, bellowed at the nearest crew. Roman ships never used sails at night, relying instead on the power of the oars.

The sailors obeyed rapidly, pulling on halyards that gathered the heavy cloth against the crossbar of the mast. When it had been furled to his satisfaction, the optio paced Achilles' sun-bleached deck, ensuring the catapults had been lashed down and all loose pieces of equipment tidied away.

Low thudding from the drum reached them through the timbers underfoot. Its speed determined how fast the oarsmen had to row. Driven by curiosity, Romulus had already explored the cramped soldiers' quarters on the armoury deck and the claustrophobic space below that where slaves sat chained to benches. He shuddered at the thought of permanent confinement in the hot, stale air breathed by two hundred others. Men on the oars were fed far more than the soldiers would receive daily, but that was little compensation. Most were criminals or prisoners of war who would serve below until they died. And it was not unheard of for ordinary slaves to be sent to the galleys as punishment.

The freedom Romulus had begun to enjoy suddenly felt quite fragile.

'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.