“I apologize for my anger, Centurion,” he spoke in heavily accented Latin, “but the only reason we have not covered her up was because we wanted you to see the scene exactly as it was found.”
I was mollified by this response; it made sense, so not wanting to make things worse, I adopted a civil tone as well. “Very well. I have seen her, so please cover her up.”
My command was obeyed immediately, one of the men taking a blanket lying on the floor and covering her whole body. The other two bodies I was not concerned with; they were men and while wearing their nightclothes, were decently covered. They lay in a small heap, one on top of the other, and a quick examination told me that they were killed by what was clearly a Roman blade, both with thrusts to the chest. Satisfied, I turned to where Atilius was sitting, seemingly oblivious to the world around him, his knees drawn up with his arms wrapped around them, mumbling something unintelligible. Stepping towards him, I saw the sword sitting on the floor next to his hand, covered in blood, as was he, although a quick examination told me that none of it was his. Well, I thought to myself, he always could fight. That was never his problem. Moving closer, once my feet came within his view, his head slowly rose as he focused and recognized the Roman boots on my feet. Almost comically slow, his gaze traveled up my body, as if he was trying to take in exactly what was standing before him, but the moment his eyes got to my face he broke into a smile. Despite my anger and disgust I felt my heart twinge, watching as he pulled himself unsteadily to intente, and I could smell the wine emanating from every pore of his body, my nose again wrinkling from the sour smell.
“Pul….I mean, Pilus Prior Pullus, sir. It’s good to see you sir! There’s been some sort of misunderstanding, but now that you’re here, I know it'll be taken care of, and we can go home, right sir?”
I kept my face hard, except I did not want to put him on his guard, so I asked him in the same tone I would as if we were sitting around the fire. “First we have to find out what happened here, Atilius. Once we get that straightened out, then we’ll see what happens next.”
I knew I had to be careful not to give the Gallic men the impression that we were just going to escort Atilius back to camp then free him, and I felt their hard eyes on me as I talked to Atilius, measuring my intent.
“Sir, I didn’t do anything wrong,” protested Atilius, prompting growls of rage from the Gauls, along with gasps of disbelief from Atilius’ comrades.
Before I could say anything, Vibius burst out, “You didn’t do anything wrong? Atilius, look around you. This place looks like a butcher’s shop.”
“I was just defending myself,” Atilius exclaimed, his eyes never leaving my face, knowing that ultimately it was what I believed that would determine his fate. “Me and the young lady were having a nice quiet time, when those two,” for the first time, he looked away from me, indicating the two corpses with a contemptuous nod, “came busting in, waving their blades about and roaring their gibberish at me. I tried to explain, but then she started screaming like a numen with her ass on fire, and started clawing at me. See,” he pointed to his face, and indeed he did have scratches along his cheeks, not particularly deep but clear for all of us to see. I had to shake my head; he actually thought that pointing out the scratches that the girl inflicted on him was going to help him corroborate his story, not condemn him further.
“Atilius,” I tried to be patient with him, though it was difficult, “those scratches don’t help back up your story that you and the girl were having ‘a nice time’ as you put it. In fact, it does just the opposite.”
A glimmer of dawning crossed his face, but he was not going to cut his losses and keep his mouth shut. “You know how women are sir, especially these noble-born cunni,” the use of that word caused one of the men to howl in outrage and he took a step forward, the only way he was stopped was by the point of the sword Vellusius held to his chest. The Gaul glared at Atilius, then spat on the floor, muttering something about Roman dogs under his breath. This situation was growing worse by the moment and I knew I had to draw matters to a conclusion as quickly as I could.
Atilius, however, was oblivious as he continued. “They want to have a roll with us low-born trash because they’re just like all women, they love warriors, neh? But the moment those two kicked in the door, she had to pretend that I was doing something she didn’t want, but that ain’t true sir. She wanted me sir, that’s all there is to it. We’ve been seeing each other almost every day, and today in the market, she let me know she wanted some of ol’ Atilius and she couldn’t wait for it.”
That was the first glimmer of hope that Atilius might have a chance to escape with his life, and I pounced on it. “Atilius, this is very important. Did anyone else see you two together talking in the market?”
For a moment, Atilius looked puzzled at my question, then just as quickly my hopes, and his, were dashed. “Talking sir? I wouldn’t say that we were talking. We didn’t exactly have a conversation, sir. She just let me know by…….you know how women are sir. It’s not what they say, it’s the way they look at you.”
There was a chorus of groans from his comrades; they knew then that Atilius was doomed, except he still seemed to be oblivious to his rapidly approaching demise. He responded to the reaction of his friends by protesting, “You boys know I’m right, you just don’t want to say so in front of the Pilus Prior. A woman doesn’t have to tell you she wants you for you to get the message, you boys know that.”
“Atilius, if what you say is true, why are her clothes ripped off?”
I watched him closely as I asked the question; seeing the flicker of guilt flash across his face, my heart hardened towards Atilius in that instant. If I were convinced that he honestly thought that he was invited into the girl’s room, no matter what transpired, while it might not have changed his fate, it would at the very least make me more sympathetic and more inclined to seek some sort of alternative to what would probably be his punishment. But in that moment I saw that Atilius knew that what he was doing was wrong, if not morally then at the least against the law, and my sympathy for him vanished like a drop of water thrown into a sizzling pan. Regardless, Atilius was stubborn, although I imagine that by this point he realized he was fighting for his life and was not about to give up without putting up some sort of defense.
“Sir, you know that some women like it……rough. They like to play at being afraid, and like to put up a struggle. It just spices things up a bit. That’s all that happened here, there wasn’t no harm meant. We were just having fun.”
“It doesn’t look to me like she would agree, Atilius, I replied coldly. “So I guess you have a good reason why her throat’s cut?”
Atilius at least possessed enough humanity at this point to look ashamed. “That was a mistake sir. The two men came busting through, and she began fighting me….”
“Wait,” I interrupted, “I thought you just said she was already fighting you. Playing around, as you say, but still putting up a struggle.”
He reluctantly nodded. “That’s true sir, but she really started putting on a show when those two came in. Before, she was bucking around and trying to throw me off of her, but that was just playing around, like I said. But the instant they came in, she had to make it look real, sir.”
I was beginning to put this together, and I was struck by another thought. “Atilius, when exactly did she scratch you?”
If he knew where I was going, he was either too frightened or too resigned to try to lie. “After I put paid to those two bastards sir.” He brightened for a moment. “It was a neat piece of work, if I do say so myself sir. You'd have been proud. I didn’t even get off her; I held her down with one hand, and I ran those bastards through with the other, neat as you please.”