Calgaich the Swordsman (49 page)

“I am a senator, an honored servant of the Empire.” “That’s not an answer.”

“Don’t talk that way to me!” Rufus snapped.

“You can retire from the Senate, with honor, as you did from the legion.”

Rufus nodded with reluctance. “At any time.”

“Then why not do so?”

“Your questions wound me like the point of that sword of yours.”

“You haven’t answered them honestly.”

Rufus turned to look into the scarred face of his only living relative. “You have your grandmother’s way of seeing through a person, Calgaich.”

“I think you, too, must have that same quality.”

Rufus nodded. “And it has gained me many enemies in Rome. The politicians here are corrupt and deceitful. They know no loyalty to anyone or anything.”

“Perhaps you should have stayed in the legion, Grandfather.”

“The long years change the perspective of a man, Calgaich. There are times when we are living at our best and utmost and yet we are too blind to see it.” He placed his wine cup on the parapet and rested his hands on either side of it while he looked down the long dark slopes of the hill below the garden. It was as if he were trying to look into the past, perhaps to the time when he had been a highly honored soldier of Rome stationed in Britannia, with a beautiful young barbarian for a wife and a little daughter who had been an almost exact copy of her mother. He had asked little of life and less from Rome, other than to serve her and her emperor. He had not married until his later years, convinced that he first had to be fully dedicated to the Empire and none other.

For a few brief years he had been happier than ever before, almost placing Rome second in 'his affection for his wife and daughter. But he lost both of them, his wife to an early death, his daughter to Lellan, chief of the wild Novantae. After that he had tried to forget by rededicating his life to the Empire. It had never been the same.

“Rome is doomed,” Rufus murmured, almost as though talking to himself. “The legions form a thin crust of defense on the far-flung frontiers, to protect the inner core of the Empire that is rotten with softness and corruption. Those people in the Flavian Amphitheatre are never satisfied with the rivers of blood in that unholy place. More! More! More! they cry. Half of the city lives on free bread and wine. If an effort is made to cut them off they will rise against the government. The politicians make sure the mob is fed and their interest is diverted to the arena and the chariot races so that their political connivery and corruption can go unheeded.

“Today the legions are composed almost exclusively of barbarians who have never seen Rome. Someday those legions might have to be recalled here, to defend Rome against the hundreds of thousands of wild barbarians battering always at the frontiers.”

“All Rome is a fortress, Grandfather,” Calgaich added quietly. “Prisoner of her own ambition, Rome. She conquered the known world and in so doing wove a tight net of barbarians about herself. It is only a matter of time before that net will close in on her and strangle her to death.”

Rufus looked quickly at Calgaich. “Are those your own words?”

“They were spoken to me by a woman who had heard them spoken many times in her childhood.”

There was a strange look on Rufus's gaunt, seamed face. “Who was she?” he demanded.

“My mother, your own daughter, Lydia.”

Rufus nodded slowly. “She, too, understood.”

“She often told me that she would not live to see the Romans driven from Britannia. But she said the time would surely come. It was inevitable.”

“Is that all she said?"

Calgaich shook his head. “She also said that Evicatos, my paternal grandfather, had tried to drive the Romans from Britannia and had failed. My own father, Lellan, a great warrior, also tried and failed. She prophesied that my time, too, would come when I would lead the war spears south to Londinium as my grandfather and father had done before me."

“She was said to have the ‘second sight.’ Did she say you would succeed?"

Calgaich shook his head. “She did not know. But she did say that if by chance
I
did not succeed, my son might."

“But you have no son, Calgaich. You are a prisoner in Rome. The odds are that you will never have a son. So you see, Calgaich, your mother, the gods rest her soul, was quite wrong."

“Only the gods know that, Grandfather."

Rufus nodded. “One likes to think so," he said dryly.

Lutorius and Guidd brought food and more wine to the summer house. Lutorius caught Calgaich’s eye. Later Calgaich waited for Lutorius in the shelter of the boxwood trees.

“Marcus told me that Nepos, an Iberian fisherman, is the newest slave in the house," Lutorius said.

“You think it might be he?"

Lutorius shook his head.

“Who else then?"

Lutorius glanced toward the house. “Marcus was too quick to point out the Iberian."

“You mean?"

“There is a cook, perhaps a little fat and somewhat greasy, but kind to me in her own way, you understand. I think she loves me. So I gave her a promise. She hinted that it was Marcus himself who is doing the poisoning."

“But the man has been with my grandfather for many years!"

“All the more reason he would go unsuspected."

“Do you think he has been bribed by Valens?"

"More likely by Morar.”

“The cook will warn us if anything further happens?”

“Yes.”

They walked toward the 'summer house.

Calgaich looked sideways at the
calo.
“What was the promise you gave the cook, eh, Bottle Emptier?”

Lutorius grinned. “I would marry her when I got my parole.”

They were still laughing when they reached the summer house.

Rufus pushed back his plate. He looked down at the great wolfhound. “Where is a loyalty such as his to be found in all Rome? The assassin's dagger, or the cup of the poisoner, are never far removed from the few men such as myself who stand up against the foul corruption that thrives like maggots in a latrine here in Rome. Is there no one I can trust?”

Calgaich nodded. “You have Lutorius, Guidd, Bron and myself here with you now.”

Rufus smiled a little. “A drunken ex-legionnaire, a one-eyed barbarian huntsman, a savage wolfhound and a wild barbarian of a grandson.”

“We four barbarians may be all you have. You can depend upon us, Grandfather, even though we are considered to be barbarians, and enemies of Rome,” Calgaich vowed.

An owl hooted softly from the deep shadows of the trees.

It was the week-long festival of Midsummer Day, the summer Saturnalia, in honor of Saturn, god of the sown and sprouting seed. The schools were on holiday and all public business was halted. The law courts were closed and all offenses, short of the gravest, went unpunished. Plebeians and slaves were allowed liberties and license with their superiors and masters. The streets, squares and houses of Rome were filled day and night with revelers.

The flames of torches and bonfires could be seen in the streets at dusk from the Pincian hilltop mansion of Rufus Arrius Niger. The sounds of music and singing filled the streets and the houses of Rome, but the house of the senator was quiet and dimly-lighted. His servants and slaves had been given leave to join the merrymakers on the last night of the Saturnalia. Only Marcus, the steward, and Nepos, the Iberian slave, were still within the mansion.

There was to be no revelry that night in Rufus's house, for he was slowly dying.

Calgaich and Lutorius sat with Rufus in the dim, lamplit atrium of his garden pavilion. Rufus lay on a couch. The old man had been drifting in and out of a coma for two days.

Lutorius got up and walked to the rear* of the pavilion to overlook the Gardens of Sallust far below.

Calgaich came to stand beside him. “What is it,
calo?”

“Listen to them down there. All Rome is drunk tonight."

“And you wish you were down there with them, eh?"

Lutorius shook his head. “Not with Old Give Me Another dying." His eyes glistened with tears.

Calgaich rested a hand on the shoulder of the
calo
. “We learned too late of the treachery, that will bring about his death. There's nothing we can do for him now."

“Not for
him
. But for those who plotted and executed his poisoning.
That
, we can do something about!”

“The time is at hand. The whole city is drunk. I have heard that Valens and Morar are having a great festival at their mansion on the Viminal Hill. Lucius Sextillius is said to be one of the guests. If we can slip into the gardens, perhaps disguised as revelers, we've got a good chance of killing all three of them.”

Lutorius nodded. “When do we leave?”

“Not until the old man dies.”

“That might take hours!”

“We will wait!” .

Rufus stirred. “Calgaich!” he called.

Calgaich and Lutorius hurried to the side of the old man. “Are you feeling better?” Calgaich asked. It was a senseless question, he knew.

“I have only a little time left. I am no longer concerned about myself. My time has come. It is you I’m thinking about now.”

“With my death you will be hounded down by Valens. The power struggle here in Rome has passed into the hands of Valens, the woman Morar and that pig Sextillius. Of the three, I consider the woman the most dangerous. After she has used Valens shell get rid of him, one way or another. If Valens becomes emperor shell control him like a puppet on a string.

“Everything I have is to be left to you. You will never be able to use that wealth here in Rome. You are not a Roman citizen and you can never become one. Should you survive the plotting of Valens and that Morar, they will see to it that your wealth is stripped from you. Most of my wealth can't be liquidated without long legal involvements. Therefore, cash money to take with you is the best wealth I can give you.”

Rufus smiled faintly. “I know that you've had it ever in your mind to escape from Rome with your barbarian comrades. Somehow your gods saw to it that Cunori, the Gaulish seaman, was recommended to me by Aulus, the sailing master of the trireme
Neptunus,
to command my small vessel, the
Lydia.

“I have sent six bags of
sesterces
down to Ostia in the

care of one of my most trusted servants. He entrusted it in turn to Cunori, my sailing master.

"Your grandfather, Evicatos, led a great invasion into Britannia and almost reached Londinium. Your father Lellan tried, too. They both failed. It is likely to be your destiny to lead the next invasion of Britannia. But you will also fail, if you repeat the errors made by your grandfather and father.

"There are four steps that must be taken in order for you to succeed,” Rufus continued. "You will need many allies to achieve your objective—the Novantae, the border tribes, certainly many Picts, and perhaps even the Saxons. You must organize and unify your invading force. You will be facing the best trained and most victorious soldiers in the world—the Roman legions. You can't defeat them leading a rabble, a mob of wild-eyed barbarians, where each man fights as though the whole battle is a personal matter, wherein he seeks great honor only for himself. You must have a leader,
one man
, whose decisions are final and who can achieve the first two steps. Perhaps that is yourself, Calgaich, but only the gods know that now." His voice seemed to fade.

Calgaich and Lutorius bent over the old man. His breathing was harsh and irregular. After a time he opened his eyes. He smiled faintly.

"I'm not done yet, Grandson," Rufus murmured. "The key to all such endeavors—
financing
..."

"The money you sent down to the
Lydia?"

Rufus nodded.

"I don't understand. You, one of the most honored soldiers and senators in the history of Rome, are giving me the funds with which to finance an invasion of Britannia." Calgaich shook his head in mingled wonder and puzzlement. "Why, Grandfather?"

"This is not the Empire for which I fought for so many years. I told you some time ago that the Rome I have known all my life is doomed. I would prefer that you barbarians regain that which is rightfully yours."

Lutorius filled a wine cup with strong Corsican wine and held it to the lips of the old man. Rufus lay back against some pillows and closed his eyes.

"Who took the money down to Ostia, sir?” Lutorius asked.

"Marcus, my steward.”

Lutorius looked at Calgaich over the head of Rufus. He raised his eyebrows.

Rufus opened his eyes. "Grandson, give me your knife.”

Calgaich shook his head.

"A man has the right to open his veins rather than to die an unclean or dishonorable death. That is an unwritten Roman law. This I have chosen to do. Further, you must make your escape attempt this night. Once my death is made public, your chance will be gone forever.”

Calgaich nodded. It would have been his choice had he been in the same situation as Rufus. He withdrew the short Roman
sica
from within his tunic. He placed it in Rufus's hands.

Rufus drained his wine cup. He looked about the lovely shadowed garden. "I shall miss this place.”

Guidd One-Eye appeared from the side gate. "Calgaich!” he called. There was urgency in his voice.

“Lydia,”
Rufus murmured. It was the last thing he would ever say. Calgaich turned away.

They did not look back as they ran toward the gate.

Fomoire stood within the gate with his back against the garden wall. His head was bent and his right hand was enveloped in a bloody bandage. There was a bandage covering his left eye.

"What happened?” Calgaich demanded.

Fomoire slowly raised his head. "The vengeance of Lucius Sextillius,” he whispered. He sagged sideways and was caught by Guidd and Lutorius. "I might have been followed here.”

"Get him into the house,” Calgaich ordered.

He opened the gate and looked up and down the narrow, shadowed street. It was empty of life. He closed and barred the gate and hurried into the house.

Fomoire was lying on a bed in the small room shared by Lutorius and Guidd. He was sipping greedily at a wine cup held to his lips by Guidd. Calgaich could see that Fomoire's right hand was fingerless.