Marcus Procopius Elafius Aquila
Marcus woke up to the feeling of someone prodding him. He groaned into the arm that was draped over his eyes. He hadn't got enough sleep. He was an old man and the cold was no good for him. Why couldn't fate or the Fates be kind to him just once? Memories of the night came to mind. Had Flavia returned to him, perhaps? Opening his eyes eagerly, Marcus's hopes were dashed - as he knew they would be - by what he saw, and he was glad he didn't give in to his initial temptation and voice Flavia's name.
It was not his wonderful daughter who looked down at him, prodding him to rise, but rather the old, weathered face of his trusty Mago. "Domine, please, you must rise, Sir."
"Damn your eyes, Mago," Marcus spoke without any particular rancor, "why must you..." It was then that he noticed the sky outside the window was already light. He had overslept. Who knew how long Mago had dithered over waking his master, before deciding that his duty - both of theirs - had overcome his well-earned sleep, and here he was cursing him!
"Thank you, Mago," Marcus said wearily, rising from bed, unselfconscious about his nudity in front of his lifelong slave. "You don't need to worry, I'm up. Now, please make sure Amfitre has something for me to eat before I head out."
Marcus hurriedly dressed himself in his field uniform, giving himself a cursory washing. Most days he would usually go to the baths anyways, but today, that would not be an option if he were to get his assigned work done after lazing about in bed for an extra hour. He was not the type to delegate work and a schedule to others that he himself could not or would not keep. He dreaded as it was facing his officers while being tardy. Shame was a more potent motivator to him than bodily harm, especially when he held his men to such high standards. But what could he do? He was getting older. His time on this earth was growing shorter every day.
He shouldn't have stayed up with Flavia. He knew that from an intellectual standpoint. It wasn't that he was ashamed of it - it had gone far beyond that by this point. It was that he was too old, too busy, the coupling too risky. It was illegal, their incestual and unmarried fornication, not to mention immoral, and it left him drained and exhausted come his already-early mornings. Marcus had never had a problem putting duty above his personal life. Intellectually, he knew he should end it immediately. But in the next thought, he knew he wouldn't. Flavia was the shining star of his life. He could not say no to her, hurt her feelings. That alone would have been enough for him not to stop. But Marcus was not too proud to know that he wouldn't stop mainly because he did not want to. He had given so much already, for his family, for the Empire, for the army. Perhaps, just perhaps, he could let this one tiny slipup occur, and tell himself he had earned the right.
Marcus wolfed down a speedy meal of warmed honeyed bread and mulled wine, before telling Amfitre to tell her mistress once she awoke that he would speak with her and Fredegund later. Mago in tow, he then left their house - still ringed by the 'honor guard' that would trail Fredegund wherever she went - towards the army's command tent.
"Sir," Scudilio said, rising to his feet from the campaign chair as soon as Marcus entered. "We were worried about you, you didn't send word you would be detained..." The legate was too loyal to suggest that Marcus had been lazy or missed the meeting on purpose, something that touched Scudilio.
"Nothing so interesting, I am afraid," he answered, the thought of using the proffered excuse not entering his mind. "I overslept, plain and simple. Dock it from my pay," he said over Scudilio's objections, moving over to the table, looking over the parchments there. "Where are the others?"
"I, ah..." Scudilio cleared his throat. "We did not know when you would arrive, Sir, and I did not want to detain some of the officers on border patrol or having just left duty, so I handled the morning briefing. I had all the assignments and notes you gave me last night, Sir, and it was all routine. The reports are all there, Sir, nothing of major interest. I hope I acted within my authority, Sir."
Marcus paused what he was doing, turning over to smile at the legate, the Romano-German's blue eyes showing relief. "You did wonderful, Scudilio. Good work." He turned his attention back to the papers.
"Thank you, Dux," he said, pride and relief obvious in his voice. He stood there for a moment, before stepping forward. "There is one other thing, Sir. Something...delicate. Several of the border guards, they reported your son taking a contingent of his forces beyond the encampment yesterday. They couldn't follow them far, but it seemed more than just a training exercise. And this morning, several representatives had registered complaints of us failing to protect their lands - citizens and federates both - from border raiders. We kept this just among the senior tribunes and Cornelius," he added, reassuringly.
"Did any of them -" Marcus began.
"No one could make any identification between the raiders and your son's army. And believe me, Sir, we tried," Scudilio added darkly, before almost timidly adding, "If you want to...take care of him, Sir, we all agreed-"
"No," Marcus replied sharply, before letting himself lose his sudden tension. "No," he added softer, as if trying to reassure himself. "No, there is no evidence, and he is high in favor, a legal representative and citizen. No, this will wait. I thank you, Scudlio, for your quick thinking today. I'm glad to have you as my second." The man's blush was as unsoldierly as it was heartwarming, and the two men, both embarrassed, turned back to their work.
It was several hours of the usual dull drilling and recordkeeping, thankfully free of Secundus or his men, until Legate Rufus hurried into the tent, two soldiers at his back, a startled looking civilian - a trader by the looks of him - between them.
"Dux, Scudilio, hope I'm not disrupting anything," Rufus said, out of breath as if he'd hurried across the camp. "But I think you should hear what this citizen has to say. Go on, Crixus."
The man glanced around, before fixing his eyes on Marcus. "Excellency, this may sound fantastic, but I swear to the...to Christ that it's true. The name's Crixus, Lord, Lucius Crixus. Purveyor of fine wares out of Treverorum. I go across the frontier to trade with the barbarians, have since the treaty was signed with them. They need food, we need money, it soaks up our own tribute right back. It's all legal, my Lord, I got the affidavits from the Curator and the Prefect..."
Marcus waved him off as he started looking through his pockets. "Continue, Citizen. What is it?"
"Well, General, it's like this, see. I've been a trader most of my life, it runs in the family, I've been across the river more times than likely anyone else. Family lived there before the province was lost. Been there even before the invasion a few years back. You get to know the land there, Lord, you do. The people. They're not all the same, Your Excellency, they're not, and I know which ones we have alliances with, I do. Keep an eye on the bulletins. Probably one of the last to do so. I know the Franks are our friends, the Quadi and Charudes and just about all else aren't. Well..." Crixus licked his lips.
"Well, Sir, a day ago, Sir, I was passing through Dispargum. Business with a thane there, Sir, you understand. And...well...The Quadi and the others, Sir, their men were there. Warriors and thanes and what might have been a chieftain or two. I saw that, Sir, kept calm, needed to make my way back here. Knew the Emperor's General needed to know."
Marcus was quiet for a second, then two. Finally, he nodded, more to himself than anyone else, rising. "I see. Thank you, Crixus. You've done a good service to the Empire. I will ask that you keep your silence about this, even to your friends. Rufus, see that he is paid appropriately for his troubles and escort him from here." Crixus's smile grew even wider and more genuine at that, as he was taken from the tent spouting words of thanks. Marcus stood there, frozen, and then left, ignoring Scudilio's words.
Perhaps it was just a coincidence. Something else. A random moot. There was nothing in the treaty that said that Clodio couldn't meet with the other chieftains, who, after all, were technically and legally at peace with each other and with Rome. But Marcus was aware of no reason why they would need to meet. Secundus's report had not mentioned any possible reason or plan, and something like that should have been reported by Clodio to his friends and patrons.
But then, that was not the only irregularity of this matter. Secundus had also, on his own accord, interfered in the Imperial bribes to these same Franks. And had now led his forces on secret raids on Imperial territory. No matter what the evidence said or didn't say, Marcus knew the truth.
The wind shifted, bringing in a bitter cold from the East. From barbarian territory.
It would soon be time for snow. And with it, ice.
Marcus saw Crixus being led back to his wagons, and, inspiration suddenly striking, hurried after him. In a few moments, he had purchased a small necklace made of the glimmering shells of creatures from Our Sea, the ocean that Marcus had never seen but that he knew Flavia had grown used to. Crixus had all but forced it on Marcus for free, after the payment he had been given. Then, with another farewell, Crixus and his fellow traders were off west, back towards Treverorum and what remained of civilization.
Marcus returned to his house. He wouldn't get any more work done today, not with brooding over these frightening new developments, and Scudilio had already proven he could handle things for a day. As he arrived at the home, the guards for Fredegund were gone, the house slaves telling him that they had gone to the baths. Good, at least they were together. Marcus had wanted to speak to Flavia, about anything really; he suddenly felt crushed by events, that he needed reassurance. And he wanted to giver her her present. But Fredegund...now that he thought of if, he could talk to her, as well. He couldn't trust her, not yet and perhaps not ever, but if there was ever a chance of him getting into Clodio's mind...Well, he certainly wouldn't get it through Secundus's reports, he realized that now.
He caught up to them just as they were leaving the baths. "Ah, Flavia, Fredegund, I'm glad I found you," he said, with a smile. "I was hoping to talk with both of you. Perhaps we could have a late midday meal together, if you haven't eaten? Or early dinner? And before I forget..."
He pulled out the necklace, showing it to Flavia. "A trader was in camp today. I got it for you." He tried hard not to show how flushed he felt, the present too much like a courting gift for comfort, especially in front of the German princess. Whom he suddenly realized might be offended that he had not gotten anything for, no matter her status.
Marcus woke up to the feeling of someone prodding him. He groaned into the arm that was draped over his eyes. He hadn't got enough sleep. He was an old man and the cold was no good for him. Why couldn't fate or the Fates be kind to him just once? Memories of the night came to mind. Had Flavia returned to him, perhaps? Opening his eyes eagerly, Marcus's hopes were dashed - as he knew they would be - by what he saw, and he was glad he didn't give in to his initial temptation and voice Flavia's name.
It was not his wonderful daughter who looked down at him, prodding him to rise, but rather the old, weathered face of his trusty Mago. "Domine, please, you must rise, Sir."
"Damn your eyes, Mago," Marcus spoke without any particular rancor, "why must you..." It was then that he noticed the sky outside the window was already light. He had overslept. Who knew how long Mago had dithered over waking his master, before deciding that his duty - both of theirs - had overcome his well-earned sleep, and here he was cursing him!
"Thank you, Mago," Marcus said wearily, rising from bed, unselfconscious about his nudity in front of his lifelong slave. "You don't need to worry, I'm up. Now, please make sure Amfitre has something for me to eat before I head out."
Marcus hurriedly dressed himself in his field uniform, giving himself a cursory washing. Most days he would usually go to the baths anyways, but today, that would not be an option if he were to get his assigned work done after lazing about in bed for an extra hour. He was not the type to delegate work and a schedule to others that he himself could not or would not keep. He dreaded as it was facing his officers while being tardy. Shame was a more potent motivator to him than bodily harm, especially when he held his men to such high standards. But what could he do? He was getting older. His time on this earth was growing shorter every day.
He shouldn't have stayed up with Flavia. He knew that from an intellectual standpoint. It wasn't that he was ashamed of it - it had gone far beyond that by this point. It was that he was too old, too busy, the coupling too risky. It was illegal, their incestual and unmarried fornication, not to mention immoral, and it left him drained and exhausted come his already-early mornings. Marcus had never had a problem putting duty above his personal life. Intellectually, he knew he should end it immediately. But in the next thought, he knew he wouldn't. Flavia was the shining star of his life. He could not say no to her, hurt her feelings. That alone would have been enough for him not to stop. But Marcus was not too proud to know that he wouldn't stop mainly because he did not want to. He had given so much already, for his family, for the Empire, for the army. Perhaps, just perhaps, he could let this one tiny slipup occur, and tell himself he had earned the right.
Marcus wolfed down a speedy meal of warmed honeyed bread and mulled wine, before telling Amfitre to tell her mistress once she awoke that he would speak with her and Fredegund later. Mago in tow, he then left their house - still ringed by the 'honor guard' that would trail Fredegund wherever she went - towards the army's command tent.
"Sir," Scudilio said, rising to his feet from the campaign chair as soon as Marcus entered. "We were worried about you, you didn't send word you would be detained..." The legate was too loyal to suggest that Marcus had been lazy or missed the meeting on purpose, something that touched Scudilio.
"Nothing so interesting, I am afraid," he answered, the thought of using the proffered excuse not entering his mind. "I overslept, plain and simple. Dock it from my pay," he said over Scudilio's objections, moving over to the table, looking over the parchments there. "Where are the others?"
"I, ah..." Scudilio cleared his throat. "We did not know when you would arrive, Sir, and I did not want to detain some of the officers on border patrol or having just left duty, so I handled the morning briefing. I had all the assignments and notes you gave me last night, Sir, and it was all routine. The reports are all there, Sir, nothing of major interest. I hope I acted within my authority, Sir."
Marcus paused what he was doing, turning over to smile at the legate, the Romano-German's blue eyes showing relief. "You did wonderful, Scudilio. Good work." He turned his attention back to the papers.
"Thank you, Dux," he said, pride and relief obvious in his voice. He stood there for a moment, before stepping forward. "There is one other thing, Sir. Something...delicate. Several of the border guards, they reported your son taking a contingent of his forces beyond the encampment yesterday. They couldn't follow them far, but it seemed more than just a training exercise. And this morning, several representatives had registered complaints of us failing to protect their lands - citizens and federates both - from border raiders. We kept this just among the senior tribunes and Cornelius," he added, reassuringly.
"Did any of them -" Marcus began.
"No one could make any identification between the raiders and your son's army. And believe me, Sir, we tried," Scudilio added darkly, before almost timidly adding, "If you want to...take care of him, Sir, we all agreed-"
"No," Marcus replied sharply, before letting himself lose his sudden tension. "No," he added softer, as if trying to reassure himself. "No, there is no evidence, and he is high in favor, a legal representative and citizen. No, this will wait. I thank you, Scudlio, for your quick thinking today. I'm glad to have you as my second." The man's blush was as unsoldierly as it was heartwarming, and the two men, both embarrassed, turned back to their work.
It was several hours of the usual dull drilling and recordkeeping, thankfully free of Secundus or his men, until Legate Rufus hurried into the tent, two soldiers at his back, a startled looking civilian - a trader by the looks of him - between them.
"Dux, Scudilio, hope I'm not disrupting anything," Rufus said, out of breath as if he'd hurried across the camp. "But I think you should hear what this citizen has to say. Go on, Crixus."
The man glanced around, before fixing his eyes on Marcus. "Excellency, this may sound fantastic, but I swear to the...to Christ that it's true. The name's Crixus, Lord, Lucius Crixus. Purveyor of fine wares out of Treverorum. I go across the frontier to trade with the barbarians, have since the treaty was signed with them. They need food, we need money, it soaks up our own tribute right back. It's all legal, my Lord, I got the affidavits from the Curator and the Prefect..."
Marcus waved him off as he started looking through his pockets. "Continue, Citizen. What is it?"
"Well, General, it's like this, see. I've been a trader most of my life, it runs in the family, I've been across the river more times than likely anyone else. Family lived there before the province was lost. Been there even before the invasion a few years back. You get to know the land there, Lord, you do. The people. They're not all the same, Your Excellency, they're not, and I know which ones we have alliances with, I do. Keep an eye on the bulletins. Probably one of the last to do so. I know the Franks are our friends, the Quadi and Charudes and just about all else aren't. Well..." Crixus licked his lips.
"Well, Sir, a day ago, Sir, I was passing through Dispargum. Business with a thane there, Sir, you understand. And...well...The Quadi and the others, Sir, their men were there. Warriors and thanes and what might have been a chieftain or two. I saw that, Sir, kept calm, needed to make my way back here. Knew the Emperor's General needed to know."
Marcus was quiet for a second, then two. Finally, he nodded, more to himself than anyone else, rising. "I see. Thank you, Crixus. You've done a good service to the Empire. I will ask that you keep your silence about this, even to your friends. Rufus, see that he is paid appropriately for his troubles and escort him from here." Crixus's smile grew even wider and more genuine at that, as he was taken from the tent spouting words of thanks. Marcus stood there, frozen, and then left, ignoring Scudilio's words.
Perhaps it was just a coincidence. Something else. A random moot. There was nothing in the treaty that said that Clodio couldn't meet with the other chieftains, who, after all, were technically and legally at peace with each other and with Rome. But Marcus was aware of no reason why they would need to meet. Secundus's report had not mentioned any possible reason or plan, and something like that should have been reported by Clodio to his friends and patrons.
But then, that was not the only irregularity of this matter. Secundus had also, on his own accord, interfered in the Imperial bribes to these same Franks. And had now led his forces on secret raids on Imperial territory. No matter what the evidence said or didn't say, Marcus knew the truth.
The wind shifted, bringing in a bitter cold from the East. From barbarian territory.
It would soon be time for snow. And with it, ice.
Marcus saw Crixus being led back to his wagons, and, inspiration suddenly striking, hurried after him. In a few moments, he had purchased a small necklace made of the glimmering shells of creatures from Our Sea, the ocean that Marcus had never seen but that he knew Flavia had grown used to. Crixus had all but forced it on Marcus for free, after the payment he had been given. Then, with another farewell, Crixus and his fellow traders were off west, back towards Treverorum and what remained of civilization.
Marcus returned to his house. He wouldn't get any more work done today, not with brooding over these frightening new developments, and Scudilio had already proven he could handle things for a day. As he arrived at the home, the guards for Fredegund were gone, the house slaves telling him that they had gone to the baths. Good, at least they were together. Marcus had wanted to speak to Flavia, about anything really; he suddenly felt crushed by events, that he needed reassurance. And he wanted to giver her her present. But Fredegund...now that he thought of if, he could talk to her, as well. He couldn't trust her, not yet and perhaps not ever, but if there was ever a chance of him getting into Clodio's mind...Well, he certainly wouldn't get it through Secundus's reports, he realized that now.
He caught up to them just as they were leaving the baths. "Ah, Flavia, Fredegund, I'm glad I found you," he said, with a smile. "I was hoping to talk with both of you. Perhaps we could have a late midday meal together, if you haven't eaten? Or early dinner? And before I forget..."
He pulled out the necklace, showing it to Flavia. "A trader was in camp today. I got it for you." He tried hard not to show how flushed he felt, the present too much like a courting gift for comfort, especially in front of the German princess. Whom he suddenly realized might be offended that he had not gotten anything for, no matter her status.
