Nobody Loves a Centurion(41)
“Caesar, Vinius was a prodigious wretch. There are six thousand suspects within these walls.”
He waved it aside with a gesture. “Men do not achieve the centurionate by being mild. Nobody loves a centurion. But they are seldom murdered. You must find the murderers for me, Decius. If you do not, I will be compelled to execute Burrus and the others, guilty or not. This war is about to commence and there will be no time for niceties.” A Gaul led up his horse and boosted him into the saddle.
“A moment, Caius Julius,” I said.
“Yes?”
“Why did you give me that woman?”
He sat there for a moment, savoring his peculiar jest. “First of all, you deserve something for the misery you are going to endure. Then again, the man who has her will have the jealous resentment of the others and all my other officers are more valuable than you. I would as soon their efficiency not be impaired. But most of all, Decius, someday you may be very valuable to me and I will be able to hold this over your head.”
I knew exactly what he meant. I was betrothed to his niece, Julia, and she would never forgive me for having owned this woman.
“Caius Julius,” I said bitterly, “you are an Etruscan punishment-demon in human form!”
Caesar rode off laughing.
7
I FACED, QUITE PROBABLY, THE most demanding task of a decidedly checkered career. In Rome I would have known where to begin, but here I was in all but alien territory. Not only was I not in Rome, I was in a legionary camp, and that camp was in Gaul, and Gaul was in a state of war. All of these were distracting circumstances. Before I could even begin, I had to regain my equanimity. I needed to speak with the only sane, sensible people in the camp. I decided to call upon my Gauls.
Before I could do that, though, I had to make some domestic arrangements. I went to the heap of Vinius’s belongings. Molon wore a nervous grin and Freda studied me as if I were some sort of odd new bug.
“You both understand that you belong to me now?”
Molon nodded vigorously. “Yes! I am very glad to be your property, sir!”
“How about you?” I asked Freda.
She shrugged. “One Roman is much like another.”
I did not appreciate being likened to Titus Vinius, but I let it pass. “You,” I said to Molon, “are to lay out your former master’s belongings over there by the desk. I want to make a complete inventory this afternoon. You,” I said to Freda, “are to go to my tent and busy yourself there; clean up or whatever it was you did for Titus Vinius when he was away. My boy Hermes is there now. If he tries to lay hands on you, you may beat him.”
She stepped down from her perch and walked past me without a glance or another word. I could not restrain myself from following her with my eyes. What a view she presented.
“Did she act this way toward Titus Vinius?” I asked Molon. “He struck me as a man who had a short way with insolent menials.”
“She’s not your typical menial, sir,” Molon said. “And she has, if you’ll forgive me, an unerring eye for men’s weaknesses. I think she’s already sized you up.”
“Thinks I am a man who will put up with anything, eh? Well, she shall learn otherwise.” I pulled the tunic away from Molon’s hunched shoulder. It was almost black with bruises. “I am not a centurion, so I do not carry a vinestock. I beat slaves only for the most serious infractions, but then I am merciless. Let us establish our relationship in this manner: See to it that you please me, or I shall sell you to a less easygoing master, and almost anyone in the world is less easygoing than I am.”
“Oh, believe me, sir, I want to remain with you! But then,” that crafty gleam came into his eye, “are you sure you can sell me? A relative of Titus Vinius might show up sometime and claim me.”
“Molon, anyone with the brains of a snail would knock you on the head and leave you in a ditch rather than feed you all the way back to Italy. I may have some use for you as an interpreter. I will be in Gaul for no more than a year. Keep me happy and when I leave, I’ll sell you to some genial merchant who needs your skills. You’ll be out of the legion camps and living easy.”
He nodded, rubbing his hands together. “That would be most acceptable.”
“See to it, then. If anyone wants me, I will be with the praetorian cavalry for a while. Have everything ready for me when I get back.”
“Just leave it all to me, master.”
I have always found that slaves respond better to kindness than to severity, although they are quick to take advantage of perceived weakness. Molon knew what a soft position he now had and I was confident he would exert himself to please me. Freda was apt to be another question entirely.