Venator, page 23
‘Doesn’t he have a nurse?’
‘I-I can’t afford one. Begging the lady’s pardon.’
‘No matter.’ Lady Drusilla’s scowl deepened in distaste. ‘Let’s get this over with. But leave the ruffian out here.’
The majordomo opened the nearest chamber door and allowed the lady to disappear inside. The seamstress bent down, turning her son to face her.
‘I have to work now. I want you to be a good boy and stay within the courtyard until I’m finished. I’ll call for you as soon as I’m done. Okay?’
He nodded.
‘I love you.’ She kissed his tiny brow.
‘Mama!’ He scowled, scrubbing his arm across his face.
She laughed softly and released his hand. As he scuttled away down the corridor, she straightened and ducked inside the lady’s room.
Cassia wandered along in the direction he’d disappeared, keeping to the hedges lining the perimeter of the garden. She skirted around the statue of Priapus looking over the courtyard and came to the end of the walk. The boy had vanished from the corridor, and she surely would have passed him in the yard. She frowned and slowly strolled over to the colonnaded breezeway. To her surprise, the gate exiting out the peristylium onto the grounds of The Senator’s estate stood ajar. Cassia slipped out, searching for the boy.
She found him just outside The Senator’s villa, crawling around in a muddy patch of ground. She smirked, linking her hands behind her back. ‘You’re not supposed to be out here.’
He staggered to his feet, looking up at her in surprise. A frog suddenly leapt from his grasp and flew towards Cassia. She shrieked, hurriedly catching the slippery brown creature.
‘Give it back!’ He scrambled towards her, nearly faceplanting in the mud.
Cassia darted away, screaming all the while.
She sprinted back through the gate and into the garden, making for the fountain of Apollo that stood at its centre. She could feel the boy hot on her heels and doubled her efforts. The frog, seeing the pool of water, wriggled anxiously in her fingers. Cassia thrust her arms high, holding it aloft.
With a mighty effort, the boy suddenly tackled her from behind. She watched the frog leap from her hands just as the children came crashing down into the pool’s shallow water.
Cassia swept her sopping blonde locks over her shoulder and slowly clambered to a seat. She glanced over at the boy, also sitting up in the water. Some of his mud had sloughed away and his damp brown curls lay plastered to his head. He looked over at her just as the frog croaked behind them. An impish, mischievous grin stole across his face.
The pair burst out laughing. Cassia threw her head back and slapped the surface of the water. A slave trimming one of the nearby hedges shot them a confused look.
‘I’m Decimus,’ the boy said when he’d finally regained his breath. He smiled at her. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Cassia,’ she giggled shyly. She lowered her gaze, tucking her head against her chin. Decimus, she decided, was a rather good-looking boy.
‘Do you live here?’
She nodded. ‘Mama works in the kitchen.’
‘The kitchen?’ Decimus thought for a minute, his eyes narrowing cheekily. ‘Do you want to help me do something fun?’
Cassia nodded. She excitedly took his muddy hand and pulled him towards the kitchen. A trail of dripping water followed in their wake.
An hour later, the garden slave with the hedge shears wandered under the shade of a lone olive tree The Senator kept within the garden, seeking respite from the Mediterranean sun. Suddenly, a wallop on the head sent him staggering.
He caught sight of an apple rolling on the ground beside him and reached up to rub the emerging bump on his head.
Directly above the slave, Decimus and Cassia clung to the topmost tree branch, a basket of apples between them. They laughed raucously, shaking with delight. Cassia leant back a little too far and started to slip. Decimus grabbed her arm and quickly hauled her back up. They stared at each other for a moment before dissolving into titters, the near fall only doubling their companionable laughter.
Amphitheatre of Statilius Taurus, Campus Martius, Rome, AD 18
Cassia winced, trying not to look away from the contest in the central arena down below. The secutor was battling mightily in close combat with the retiarius, but he was clearly outmatched. He struggled to keep his feet, raising his shield to ward off the trident man’s net. It was only a matter of time until he went down before his opponent.
She fidgeted uncomfortably on her elbows before glancing beside her at Decimus. He was likewise stretched out on his stomach beneath the bench she lay under. The seat had been set up in the corridor opening onto a high tier of the stone stadium seats, typically reserved for women and slaves. Decimus was staring straight across the arena, a small smile gracing his angular face.
‘I don’t know how you can stand to watch this.’ She wrinkled her freckled nose at the fight. ‘It’s just awful.’
‘Hmm?’ He glanced at her absently. ‘You mean the gladiators? Yeah, it’s not much of a fight, is it? The swordsman can hardly wield his weapon properly, he’s way overmatched.’ He lifted a finger and pointed at the imperial box on the opposite side of the stadium. ‘I’m more interested in him.’
Cassia frowned at the comely, unassuming man crowned with laurel Decimus had indicated. He was clad in a scarlet uniform, his white cuirass adorned with a medal harness full of phalerae. His straight brown hair, cut short in the military fashion, failed to shield or soften a pair of hard dark eyes. His impassive bronze face watched the games below, only occasionally turning to a woman wrapped in blue who smiled beside him. ‘Who’s that?’
‘General Germanicus Caesar. Emperor Tiberius’s nephew, son of General Nero Claudius Drusus. He’s the finest soldier that ever lived.’ Decimus shook his head in awe, reaching up to brush his brown ringlets out of his eyes. ‘Mama and I witnessed his triumph through the city yesterday. He recovered the eagle lost with my father’s legion under General Varus. We went and made a sacrifice to Mars after the standard was placed in the temple. I’ve never seen Mama weep like she did there.’ He softly shook his head. ‘Germanicus has restored my father’s pride and avenged Rome against those bloody Germans.’ Decimus sighed. His face shone reverently. ‘I can only dream of following him.’
‘What, in the army?’ Cassia glanced at him, stiffening.
Decimus nodded. ‘I’m going to be a soldier someday. Just like my father and Germanicus. A defender of the glorious empire.’ He squared his shoulders proudly. ‘I was talking to one of Germanicus’s centurions in the street after the parade. He was drumming up recruitment at the corner round our place in the Subura. Mama said it’s the best chance I’ll get, whatever that means, and I could go just as soon as she says she can afford to lose me.’
‘But you’re just a child! They wouldn’t take you!’ A note of fear crept into Cassia’s voice. The thought of losing her playmate distressed her.
‘I know! It’ll be years yet.’ He shot her a disgruntled look. ‘But it’s never too early to start preparing.’
‘Hey! How did you lot sneak in here?’
‘Uh oh!’ Decimus and Cassia shot each other anxious smiles before leaping to their feet and dashing deeper into the corridor.
‘Come back here, you little scamps!’ A guardsman chased after them, pursuing their path until he somehow lost it again.
Private Stables of the Urban Prefect, Via Viminalis, outside Rome, AD 21
Cassia wandered along the stable block, her long skirts floating behind her. She carried a basket on her arm and a small purse under her belt. She looked about inquisitively, seeking her young companion. Distant clatters and male grunts gradually drew her towards the open dirt riding arena.
There, she finally came upon Decimus. The gangly adolescent bore a wooden sword and shield in his hands, a leather helmet strapped securely to his head. He was in the middle of an intense struggle against his identically armed opponent, a grizzled old Greek wearing an imperial decurion’s helmet. Cassia placed her basket on the ground and rested against the railed perimeter of the arena to watch the contest.
Decimus caught his tutor’s thrust with his shield and wrenched his arm aloft. He leant forward and jabbed with his sword. ‘Take that, Amyntas!’
‘Good!’ The decurion grunted, glancing the blow with his own shield. He pushed against the boy, sending him backwards a few steps. He parried Decimus’s energetic thrusts, looking for his next opportunity.
Decimus danced on his broad feet, following the arc of Amyntas’s sword with his shield. He kept his eye on the horse master’s shield, taking advantage of every slim opportunity to strike.
‘Easy, son, easy!’ The decurion gritted his teeth. ‘Think! Think!’
When Amyntas feinted towards the boy’s knees, Decimus immediately lowered his shield to block it. As soon as he did so, the Greek quickly straightened and brought a killing blow down across his shoulder. Decimus groaned and staggered back, his enthusiasm checked.
Cassia winced. She hated to see her friend in distress. ‘Decimus, be careful!’
He alertly turned his head in the direction of her voice, a confused look on his face. ‘Cassia?’
The decurion struck at the boy’s helmet with his sword, sending Decimus crumpling to the ground. Cassia screamed, lifting a hand to her mouth.
Once his head had stopped spinning and his vision refocused, Decimus found himself staring up at the tip of his tutor’s wooden weapon.
‘That was a very silly mistake, lad.’ Amyntas stepped away, drawing the sword back to his side.
‘It wasn’t fair!’ Decimus frowned and leapt back onto his feet. He paused, letting a dizzy moment pass, before stomping after the decurion. ‘I demand we do it again! That wasn’t a fair fight!’
‘Warfare rarely is, young Decimus,’ Amyntas sighed. He began gathering up the weapons to stow them away, refusing to turn towards his charge.
‘You’re afraid to fight me!’ Cassia saw the boy’s cheeks inflaming with rage. She knew the shame of his loss stung far more than the blows.
Decimus frowned, balling his fists at his sides. ‘You’re afraid to take me on in a fair contest because you know I’d win!’
‘You stupid child!’ The decurion whirled to face him, his anger finally roused. ‘You know nothing! You didn’t watch my feet to see if I’d shifted my weight, otherwise you would have caught that feint! And there are far greater distractions on a battlefield than some little girl!’ He waved a dismissive hand at Cassia, looming large over Decimus. ‘Fighting is not mindless! Yes, you are plenty brave, but bravery alone does not a soldier make! Every barbaric warrior you meet will have courage to spare; they’ll have the will to fight. They’ll thirst for your blood. And they will kill you fast if you meet them just as recklessly as they do!’
He lowered his head, stooping to meet the boy’s gaze. ‘Do you know why the Roman army is the best in the world?! Do you?! I’ll tell you, it’s not because they’re spoiling for a fight!’ He flicked his gnarled brown fingers against Decimus’s helmet. ‘Brains! A Roman soldier’s got brains! They understand tactics, they keep their heads! They’re ready to follow their commander’s orders, even in the thick of a contest, and they keep their tempers in check.’
He shook his head, stepping away. ‘Discipline, Decimus! You desperately lack discipline! And you’ll never make the centurionate without it, no matter how brave you are!’
Decimus breathed in a long gulp and lowered his gaze. ‘Yes, sir. I’ll learn it, I swear.’ He unclenched his hands and stood quite still, struggling to quench the fire that burned within his breast.
Amyntas clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Good lad.’ He turned back to store up the weapons. ‘Go take a drink and clear your head before we start in with the horse lessons.’
Decimus slowly stumbled over to the trough, untying his helmet as he went. He pulled it off and shook out his sweaty ringlets before plunging his entire head under the water.
‘Are you hurt?’
Decimus looked up out of the trough at Cassia. ‘A little. Thanks for that.’
Cassia recoiled, jutting out her lower lip. ‘It could have been worse. At least you were only playing with toys.’
‘They’re not toys, Cassia.’ Decimus strolled over to where she stood against the railing, his helmet tucked under his arm. ‘Using a wooden gladius allows you to fight as though it were real. You learn how to strike to kill instead of pulling back at the last second.’ He reached up and tenderly felt along the shoulder Amyntas had struck; it would certainly be black and blue for the next few days.
As he rubbed his tingling skin, he noticed the basket sitting at her feet. He lifted his head and nodded at her. ‘What are you doing all the way out here, anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be working in The Senator’s kitchen?’
‘I was sent out to pick up a few ingredients for tonight’s meal.’ Cassia scooped up her basket and dangled it demonstratively. ‘I thought I’d try to steal away for a moment and see you while I was out.’
‘You’d better leave, then. You’re a long way from the market and I don’t want you getting into trouble on my account.’ Decimus set his jaw, his bright pale eyes flashing coldly. ‘I might be learning how to fight, but I’m not skilled enough to take on your bully of a master yet.’
‘Don’t do it, Decimus. Not now, not ever.’ She laid a hand on his arm. ‘Trust me, I’ll find my own way out.’
‘All right, Decimus!’ Amyntas called out, leading a fully tacked horse into the arena. ‘Break time is over, let’s go!’
The boy shot her a parting smile and walked away, fastening his leather helmet back on his head. He grabbed the pommels and pulled himself into the saddle. ‘Oh, no.’ He groaned and slumped his shoulders when he saw that his tutor had set up a series of hurdles around the arena.
‘Sit up!’ Amyntas barked. He held up a rope and gestured to Decimus. ‘Hands behind your back!’
‘Not again,’ the boy protested. He reluctantly offered his wrists and allowed the decurion to bind them together.
‘You don’t ride with your hands, son! You can’t be relying on them to get you home safe if you find yourself having to defend your life on horseback. It’s all in the seat. You’ve got to ride with your seat, and your legs, and your back. Not your arms!’ Amyntas checked his knots and stepped back. ‘All right, let’s ride the course again.’
‘I’m just going to fall off,’ Decimus moaned, prodding the horse into a trot towards the first obstacle.
‘And I’ll put you back on again, and again, until you complete the course without falling off! And remember you’ve still got six more stalls to muck after we finish in here! Let’s go!’
Cassia turned and began making her way back up the Viminal Way. Behind her, the decurion’s harsh criticisms of Decimus’s posture echoed across the arena.
The Esquiline, Rome, AD 25
‘Decimus!’
The teen turned and held up his beaker to Cassia. He took a few steps away from the gathering towards the edge of The Senator’s garden and flashed her a warm smile. ‘Hello.’
Cassia smoothed her plain white tunic and grinned back. Her friend was looking especially handsome tonight at the Lady Drusilla’s birthday celebration. His mother had somehow managed to acquire fabric of a deep, rich blue that she’d fashioned into a tunic for her son, tailoring it to fit his gangling frame. His toga slipped from his bony shoulders and he tugged more of the fabric up under his armpits to keep it in place. In the dim torchlight, Cassia could only just make out the toned lines beginning to accentuate his dark arms and legs; his years of work in Amyntas’s stables were clearly paying dividends. His brown hair had been trimmed back out of his eyes and carefully curled all around his crown. His prominent nose still looked a little too large for his sharp, narrow face and his ears also appeared quite long in relation to his chin. But he had reached the awkward, growing phase of his adolescence, so that was to be expected. His complexion was at least a nice, clear tan and not riddled with spots like that of her younger brother, Cato. His enchanting eyes shifted colours whenever he moved his head. One of his dark, severe brows twitched distractedly.
‘I gave Cato the pitcher so I could steal a few moments for myself.’ Cassia swished her skirts shyly. ‘Are you enjoying the party so far?’
‘Not really, no.’ Decimus frowned.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing. Everything. I don’t know!’ He shook his head in frustration. ‘I mean, I have nothing to complain about, but things are just getting…under my skin.’ He huffed. ‘Like my mother sticking all her pins into me trying to make this tunic fit. And keeping this stupid toga on when it wants to fall off whenever I move. And Amyntas getting on my case about my pilum form. And the barber touching me neck when he was cutting my hair. And all these boring old men talking to me as if I were some…child, while I’m stood here drinking The Senator’s Falernian!’ He took another gulp of the wine and scowled. ‘He understands what it’s like!’ Decimus nodded at the statue of Priapus nearby.
Cassia glanced at the marble sculpture with its large, erect penis and bit her lip. ‘Decimus…have you ever lain with someone before?’
He furrowed his brows. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Come.’ She eagerly took his hand and led him towards the kitchen. Her stomach rapidly began to turn somersaults. ‘I think I know what your problem is.’
The pair snuck their way into The Senator’s scullery. Decimus chuckled with Cassia, catching her infectious laughter. He looked around, feeling sheepish for some reason, as Cassia led him behind a stacked pile of Aegyptian grain.
Cassia sat down on the floor. She turned and pulled Decimus down beside her, her blue eyes alight. With a smile, she unclipped the fasteners at her sleeves and pulled her undertunic over her head.
