The real working business of the camp — the fatigues, patrols and working parties, the duties and the password of the day — had already been decided at the centurion’s meeting earlier, but all troops ‘fit for duty’ were now drawn up on parade. Their officer harangued them and assigned them to their tasks, and led them in the oath of loyalty. Then he stepped back and Marcus’s inspection began.
A chilly morning followed. We walked up and down the columns — Marcus imperious in his purple-bordered robes, flanked by the optio and Regulus; I trailing obediently in his wake. A rostrum was produced and Marcus, looking suitably severe, addressed the men. He was always a good speaker and they roared applause. I hoped that this would be the end of it, but our horses had presumably still not arrived, because a display of weapons training was announced, and I stood and froze while soldiers threw heavy wooden javelins, or thrust at wooden stakes with wooden swords.
Marcus had done service with the legions once and was genuinely enthralled, but it was of no real interest to me until I was offered one of their wicker practice shields to try, and found it was very difficult to lift.
That made our centurion laugh aloud. ‘The training shields are twice the weight of regulation ones. Makes you strong,’ he said, and lifted it to shoulder height.
The optio was not to be outdone. ‘I’ll show him what’s involved. I used to be the champion at this.’ Stepping forward, he raised the shield one-handedly and whirled it effortlessly about his head in a series of complex feints and blocking moves which earned him a smattering of surprised applause.
Only Regulus was not impressed. ‘Trust him to take an opportunity for showing off,’ he grumbled. ‘Thank heaven the supply party has returned, or he’d want to prove before His Excellence that he was best at everything.’ He nodded towards the tented camp, where indeed a group of men had just galloped in, leading a string of other animals.
The inspection was brought to a hasty close and we returned to find that the men had brought us not only proper horses from the military inn, but also my clean tunic, which had come back from the fuller’s by this time. People at the mansio were awaiting our return. The kitchen in particular had been forewarned and was preparing stuffed sow’s udder for His Excellence, to make up for the porridge yesterday.
Marcus was suddenly anxious to be gone, and the optio — encouraged by the response to his parade-ground feats — leapt into noisy action once again, ordering his men to get things organised. We did not really need a full escort for the journey back along the open road, but it was provided just the same, and no sooner had I changed my clothes than we were on our way.
Even so, our troubles were not over yet. It was not far to Venta but the biting wind had settled into pouring heavy rain, which made the journey seem far longer than it was. No sooner had we streamed into the mansio, wet, travel-stained and dispirited, than the junior officer who’d been left in temporary command came hurrying from the guard-room area to see the optio.
‘Your pardon, sir, but there are people here to see that gentleman.’ He kept his voice low, but I heard the words, and saw to my surprise that he was indicating me. ‘One of them is a wealthy townsman of some influence. He came here yesterday as well. I told him you were on the way to Isca and I didn’t know when you were coming back, but he refused to leave. His family has been humiliated in the courts, he says. Something about a young man being forced to witness on behalf of somebody he didn’t know, and without his paterfamilias being told.’
The optio looked impatient, but the soldier pressed the point. ‘I think it should be dealt with quickly, sir — the complainant in question is a wealthy individual and serves the civitas in several ways — although he’s not actually a citizen. You know what these Silurians are like. If he sees this as a personal affront and we don’t sort it out he’ll get his friends to back him, and before you can say “Mars Lenis” there’ll be riots in the street.’
I looked at Marcus and he looked at me, with a scowl that told me that this was all my fault.
‘It must be Laxus,’ I said stupidly. ‘He is the only one who spoke in my defence.’ I was surprised. I knew that he’d been carrying an illegal knife, and he knew that I knew. I would not have expected him to raise complaints. He had too much to lose by counterclaims.
‘It’s not the youth himself,’ the soldier said. ‘More like his father, by the looks of it.’ Of course! It had been idiotic of me to think otherwise. ‘Says he has always supported Roman power, but he’d been passed over for appointments several times, and was this all the thanks he’s going to get,’ the soldier amplified. ‘I didn’t like to put him off, so I told him he could wait and speak to the senior officer when he got back — I hadn’t been expecting to see the pavement-maker and His Excellence again.’
‘I wasn’t expecting to be here,’ Marcus said, ‘but since I am, I think I’d better deal with this myself. It was my court, after all. But, Libertus, you can come as well. The wretched boy was called in as a witness on your account. You, optio, can have some towels sent in to us and some refreshments too.’ He turned back to our informant. ‘Where is the fellow now?’
‘I’ve left him in the commander’s anteroom.’ The junior officer looked sideways at his optio, but he could not well avoid addressing his answer to Marcus all the same. ‘I did take the liberty, Excellence, of offering the man a little something while he waits. I hope I’ve done the proper thing.’
Marcus beamed at him approvingly, although it is not the custom at a mansio, where those not on official business have to pay their keep, to deal with civilian callers as though they were visitors to a private house. ‘In the circumstances, I’m sure you did.’
The optio looked less convinced. Presumably this largesse would be at his expense, while his subordinate got all the praise for it. He managed a tight smile. ‘I, personally, will have something sent to you at once,’ he said, stressing the ‘personally’ to show that he had now resumed command. Then, in an obvious effort to ingratiate himself, he added, ‘And I’ll send a slave in with a towel. Perhaps you’d care to have him to wash your feet as well?’
‘No need to delay ourselves with that for now.’ Marcus was brisk. ‘The sooner we have dealt with this, the sooner we can dry ourselves and dine.’ He turned to the junior officer again. ‘Lead on, then. Let’s see what this angry father wants. He’s been a supporter of the Empire, you say. I’ll treat him carefully. From what I’ve experienced of this area, Rome needs to look after all the friends she has. Ah! A towel!’ He took the linen napkin from the slave who had run to fetch it and rubbed his head with it. Then he ran a ringed hand through his curly hair, adjusted his spattered toga, squared his shoulders and composed his face into a mask of dignity. ‘Come, Libertus!’ I trailed damply after him.
As we entered the optio’s waiting room, the visitor was already rising to his feet. He was a florid man of middle age, slack-faced and corpulent, but the similarity to Laxus was quite striking all the same. He was dressed in a Grecian-style robe of such a startling white that it made Marcus, in his damp toga, look quite dingy in comparison. An elaborate torc-necklace was round his throat, and on his arms and fingers there were silver bands of beautifully intricate design. His face was flushed with sullen discontent, and he was clearly ready to protest at once.
Marcus walked towards him with both hands outstretched, and a smile of diplomatic welcome on his lips. ‘My dear citizen, please accept our most sincere regrets. We had no notion that you were awaiting us. I am Marcus Aurelius Septimus, representative of the outgoing governor. Whom do I have the honour of addressing?’ The Latin was punctiliously courteous and correct, and he’d addressed the man as ‘citizen’. As a forestalling manoeuvre, it was consummate.