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It was a triumphant return to Castra Vetera. The empty woods made it easy to the troops to ferry across to the Roman banks on the decks of the Rhenus fleet. The captives went easily as well, into the waiting cages of the slavers already onsite and expectantly counting the new meat. The cavalry was a bit more difficult, as they had to stable their horses on the barges, but even that went off without a hitch.
Rutilius crossed last, spending one last, long minute at that damned forest. Then he spit symbolically on the soil one last time before spurring his horse to the waiting flagship. He had had enough of Germania Magna to last a lifetime. If he never had to cross this river again, it would be too soon. He sighed, though, as his horse mounted the plank onto the barge. He had made a lot of memories on this side of the Rhenus- and not all of them were bad. Still, he wanted no more of conflict and battle for a while. He wanted to raise his sons in peace.
Unfortunately, Lady Fortuna thought otherwise. No sooner had he stepped off the pier than he heard the sounds of battle. He rushed to the fray, his Batavians closing in about him in a combat wedge. But they were not needed- yet. The clash of steel and wood were a gang of Suevi beating their shields. These armed men attempted to free a large group of their chained and bound comrades as the armed guards of the slavers- and backed by four cohorts of auxilia- closed in about them.
“Roman honor!” spat one of the leaders. Rutilius recognized him as Aethwyck. “This is Roman honor, as worthless as dirt.”
“Stand down!” ordered Rutilius as he arrived. He directed his command to both groups. The auxilia complied, but both the Suevi and the slavers maintained their weapons at the ready- the one defending their freedom, the other intent on taking it away.
Rutilius repeated the order, directing it at the slaver captain. “Stand down. Immediately!”
The slaver captain backed a bit away, but maintained his ground otherwise. “These men were lawfully given over to my master, the honorable Sextus Petrius Rufus, for sale by the governor, Quintus Julius Cordinus Caius Rutilius Gallicus. They are our property, and we may do as we like with chattels.”
“These are free men, hired by myself to guard the castrum while we were away,” Rutilius replied. “They are not prisoners, nor captives. They are free men, and good ones at that.”
“No matter what you say, magistrate,” the captain replied stupidly to the man who was hero of the hour, “the governor gave these men to us, and we are going to take them- alive or dead.”
“So you believe in the enslavement of free men?” Rutilius asked.
The captain nodded. “When so commanded by the governor.”
“So be it,” Rutilius said, to the immediate disgust of Aethwyck and the Suevi. Then he turned to Dieter, “How much do you think this one will fetch in the markets?” His gaze fell upon the captain.
“He’s strong, but stupid,” Dieter replied. “Five denarii, maybe.”
“What?” cried the captain.
“Sold,” declared Rutilius. “IV
Nervorum, take this man and any other bearing arms to the slave pens. He believes in enslaving free men against our laws? I declare his sentence to be to suffer the same.”
He lifted his gaze to the other cohorts. “Auxiliaries! Any guard who does not immediately release the Suevi is to be sold in the markets to Greek mine owners himself. The guards have to the count of twenty to comply.”
“Aye!” echoed the centurions. The guards got the message. The cutting of rope and opening of locked chains began immediately, freeing those Suevi who had not been as quick as the others at donning their battle gear against those they saw as comrades..
Cordinus was drawn by the battle as was his quaestor. He saw the superb Suevi specimens being freed, and at least four of the slaver guards being disarmed and chained themselves, while the auxiliaries actively aided the slaves.
“What is going on?” he demanded.
“I am settling accounts, lord,” Rutilius replied easily. “Some idiot decided that the mercenaries I hired to guard this castrum were better paid by being sold into slavery. That same idiot used your name to lend weight to his foolish notion of enslaving free men.”
“But these are Suevi warriors,” Cordinus wailed. “Prisoners! How can you release them to again make war upon Rome?”
“Catch up on your post, sir,” Rutilius advised. “Start with the Battle of Bedriacum five years ago, the second one, actually. You will find that Italicus and Sido, two Suevi kings, fought for Vespasian there. And more recently, the Suevi homeland in the Agri Decumates has fallen to your colleague Cornelius Clemens. The Suevi there submitted- they are now peregrini- free residents within the Empire. The law forbids the enslavement of free men, and honor forbids the enslavement of men honorably serving Rome.”
“But... they are worth a thousand denarii apiece!” Cordinus wailed.
“My honor is worth far more,” Rutilius replied icily. “What is yours worth?”
“What do you mean?”
“Remember when you chastised me for leaving the province unguarded, and I replied I had not?” Rutilius reminded him. “I had defeated the Marsi who had attacked this fortress and crushed them, but the Suevi were a harder knot. I negotiated a peace with their prince- one that ended the fighting with honor. I then gave him a job- on his honor, protect our castra from all who come. In return, he gave me the cloaks and his own helm, which allowed us to get so close to where you were trapped without raising suspicion. Thus he guarded the province, while we were away. He was no prisoner, nor were his men. They are employed by Rome, and some IDIOT tried to enslave them for it.”
“I see,” Cordinus said. He felt like a horse just kicked him in the stomach. He nodded to the tribunes to continue freeing the Suevi. “I shall have this matter cleared up.”
“It is already cleared up, lord,” Rutilius said bluntly. “These men were never prisoners, thus are free men. Their lands are within the Empire, making them peregrini. I negotiated a peace with them, making them equals. The law clearly forbids the enslavement of free men. Matter solved.”
Cordinus caught the hidden message. “Ah, I see. Very well. Carry on, Marcus.” And with that, he disappeared back toward the fortress.
“Aethwyck!” Rutilius called. He lifted his winged helmet high. “Where can I find Segestes?”
The Suevi pointed toward the castrum and the disappearing Cordinus. “They took him somewhere in there.”
Rutilius thanked him and turned to Dieter. “Cut the guard captain and his hold-outs loose in a few hours, unless they give you any trouble. I am going to see Segestes and return his helm, and try to make up for this awful mess.”
Dieter shook his head. “I don’t see how. This is a hard blow from which to recover. Wotan’s One Eye, what a fustercluck.”
Rutilius smiled. “I think I know a way.”
He headed for the fortress, streaming his guards out and tasking a few of them to do errands as they approached the gate. A few quick inquiries led him to the brig, where he gazed in awe at the near-naked body of a raging Suevi prince.
“Marek!” Segestes roared. His muscles rippled and tensed against the chains binding him to the floor. “I had expected better of your word. I trusted you, damn you, and the payment for my service is this?”
Rutilius opened the bars. “This was not my doing, Segestes,” he replied, using the man’s tongue. “Consider it a temporary inconvenience.”
“Temporary inconvenience!” the Suevi shouted. “I am chained, to be sold as a gladiator for your damned arenas, while my men are being carted away to work Roman farms and mines in the earth.”
“No, to both,” Rutilius replied. His guards hustled in, bearing new clothing and boots. He took the garments from the one and placed them on the floor, then unchained the prisoner. Another guard came in bearing a Germanic warsword. This too was laid by the freed prisoner. “Your men are waiting outside, guarded from the slavers by my men and their own arms.”
Another Batavian came in, bearing a golden armband. He handed it to Rutilius, who held it out to the Suevi. “This was a misunderstanding, but I accept the blame and fixed it. As a token of my apology, I would give you this and ask that our friendship be restored.”
“What is this?” The Suevi’s tone was less harsh now that he had a sword belted on. He glared at the armband.
“This is the armband of Bructeri kings,” Rutilius replied. “It was part of my spoils taken when I killed Udo. I wish for you to have it, and all that goes with it.”
Segestes took a step back. “You offer me... kingship over the Bructeri?”
Rutilius nodded. “They are all but extinct, but I have exacted a promise from the Chauci that they shall not expand into the vacuum left by their neighbor’s demise. I do not want another hostile tribe moving in, which means I have to reconstitute my former foes and provide them with a firm ruler, one which would help me keep the peace on the border. I could think of none better suited than yourself.”
“The Bructeri had two kings. You slew only one.”
“The other is outlawed by the tribes,” Rutilius informed him. “The Bructeri are kingless. A bold adventurer, with the backing of two thousand veteran warriors, would be welcomed by the tribe which has less than five thousand farmhand warriors.” Then he grinned as he added, “but more than thirty thousand women.”
Segestes grinned as well. “It would be hard, rebuilding a tribe from almost nothing.”
“Ricgard of the Chauci pledged his aid, securing your east. Feyke of the East Frisii wishes naught but peace, securing your north. The Marsi are almost as bad off, so your south is also safe. And if you keep the peace with Rome, you will have a safe border along Father Rhein, and whatever aid I can give.”
Segestes thought it over. “And if the Bructeri do not accept me?”
“Their women will kill those who oppose your leadership,” Rutilius laughed. “Or oppose the two thousand potential husbands you bring.”
The Suevi laughed. He knew that part to be probably more true than joke. The tribe was more than decimated, and many women escaped to the north and east while the men fought. Those women would be seeking mates, and there were none to be had, unless he infused them with some good Suevi blood.
“I want a king there who I can trust to keep the peace,” Rutilius continued. “I will do what I can to support you- including supplying your people with grains, animals, and tools, whatever I can spare. And if they are so stupid as to reject this... I will raise my own forces and help you pound it into their skulls until they accept.”
Segestes eyed the Roman quaestor in a new light. He had no doubt that Marek would do exactly as he said, even if it went against the will of Caesar himself. A peaceful border served Rome far better than a tumultuous one, even if the Eagle King did not know it himself.
“I accept, Marek,” Segestes said. “And forgive, though you did not do what needs to be forgiven.”
Marcus led him out of the dungeon. Once outside, he had a guard bring over the winged helmet he dropped off before entering the jail. “Thanks for letting me borrow this.”
Segestes drank in the warm sunlight with a sigh. The helmet he tied to his belt, then turned to his friend.
“I think you are going to have one boring border to defend, my friend,” he said, affixing the armband to his right humerus. “So tonight, you must liven it up with tales of what went on over there in my future kingdom. Tell me all; omit nothing. And the beer is on you.”
Rutilius laughed. “Tonight a feast, to celebrate friends and victory.”
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Titus Caesar was preparing once again to march cohorts of praetorians up the road to Mediolanium. This time he would be taking five cohorts- half a legion. His goal was to prevent any Germani readying to assault Germania Superior from slipping about and plundering a defenseless Italia. His plan was still in its initial stages when a rider burst in to the praetorian headquarters.
Titus immediately feared the worst. The news of the death of Helvidius had been met with shock and horror- but no actions worth mentioning. Now he knew why. Helvidius had sacrificed himself to prove his point. The shouting outside the castrum confirmed these fears. Men were gathering, and yelling. Vengeance was afoot. He grabbed his sword and made his way through the praetorium toward the gates, with his guards closing in about him- also with swords drawn.
A breathless runner stood on the parade ground, hands on his knees and bent over trying to catch his breath. The noise outside was reaching a fever pitch- an attack was imminent.
“Clear out, soldier,” he ordered the runner. Already the other praetorians were taking up positions along the walls and in the towers. “You are safe now.”
The runner waved away the concern and drew in a deep breath. “Your father, prefect,” he gasped. “Great news from the north! Victory on all fronts!”
“What?” Titus exclaimed.
The runner finally caught his breath. “Victory in the north, sir! The Suevi surrendered! Cornelius Clemens has completed his conquest of the Agri Decumates, removing that spearhead from Italia’s gut. The people are celebrating his victory- as you can well hear!”
Titus put away his sword. It was true. The noise surrounding the castrum was one of joy, not anger. He smiled broadly. “So Clemens did it. My father’s plan worked. Too bad it cost us four legions.”
The runner shook his head. “Victory on all fronts, lord! A message came today just after the dispatch from Cornelius was announced. It was from Cordinus Gallicus. He and his legions are back in their castra, safe and sound. Better still, he has with him the two lost Eagles your father sent him to retrieve.”
Titus almost sagged with relief. The Rhenus border was once again safe. “Verginius, assemble an escort. It appears I must go to the palace. Congratulations are in order, it seems.”
Titus arrived as his father was making ready to address the Senate. At his father’s side were Eprius Marcellus, his crony, and his brother in law, Cerealis, newly returned from Britannia. Both men were helping him drape his toga to best effect.
“A formal sitting?” Titus asked, noting the men’s dress. His own attire was his praetorian armor- unfitting for a formal session.
“I feel it is appropriate,” Vespasian replied. “We have joyous news to discuss, and much other, less-interesting things to put forth.”
“I heard Cordinus Gallicus and his legions were home safe. A miracle of arms, based on the last situation we heard.”
Vespasian grimaced. “Yes, it seems our poisoner scraped together an army of rabble, and backed by eight cohorts sent by Quintus here, managed to distract the Germans long enough for Cordinus Gallicus to break out and destroy the enemy. But that news, like the news that the army was trapped in the first place, shall remain between us few.”
“Marcus Rutilius is no poisoner,” Cerealis grumbled.
Titus Junior agreed. “He was framed, and later freely acquitted by the very man who wrote the original accusation.”
Vespasian shrugged. “Whatever. This action remains closed. We are going to announce the victory of Cornelius Clemens in conquering the Agri Decumates, the personal heroism of our cousin Titus Flavius Sabinus- he won the corona civica when his Adiutrix that fought through a blocking force and fell upon the force attacking Clemens to destroy it. That forced the surrender of the Suevi. Of less exciting news, we must discuss the recent treason resulting in the death of Helvidius Priscus, and appoint the consuls for the rest of the year.”
“I have been consul three times now, father, and you five,” Titus said with a sigh. “Let someone else have the titles and honors for a change.”
“We will both be consuls in the new year,” Vespasian said sternly. “Although we can appoint suffect consuls for the rest of the year if you so desire. For today, though, I am going to retire Tiberius Plautius Silvanus Aelianus for his miserable handling of our defense, and replace both him and Lucius Junius Vibius Crispus, who died in office, with these two noblemen.”
Cerealis and Eprius both dropped the toga in amazement.
“Us?” mumbled Cerealis.
“You, Quintus, had sent the eight cohorts to Germania which saved four of our legions. For that I would reward you with being honored as our senior consul. And you, Titus Clodius, uncovered a viper in our own circle, one which made the actions of Quintus so necessary and desperate. You I shall reward with the honors of junior consul. I feel being appointed consul for the remainder of the year a fitting reward to the two men who saved our empire years of trials and tribulations.”
“As do I,” Titus Caesar agreed.
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Here ends Part VII.
Part VIII will most likely begin in August. Too many long breaks in between to post regularly, and lots of other things going on. I have a few articles to write, a Sepia Joust entry to work on, and several weeks here and there offline and in the boondocks in between.
2011 is going to be one busy year.
On the bright side, I am currently working on Part X, which may grow to Part XI as well. Interesting twists there, but the thrill of working it all out is fading. I shall try not to disappoint, though.[This message has been edited by Terikel Grayhair (edited 06-02-2011 @ 07:44 AM).]