Robert Fabbri - False God of Rome

‘We just watched Corvinus and the lads being sold to the Marmaridae yesterday; I call that fucking dangerous.’

‘And this little shit is going to get them back for us, aren’t you?’ Vespasian glared at Ahmose who nodded unhappily. ‘Good; we’d better get going then.’

‘But first I have to get what’s needed to buy your men back.’

‘You’ll need far more money than they bought them for.’

‘I won’t be buying them with money; it’ll be a straight swap.’

‘Marmaridae, sir, master, there,’ Ziri said pointing through the palms.

‘How many of them are there?’ Vespasian asked Magnus as they peered through the fading light at the Marmaridae’s camp set by a large pool at the southwestern corner of the oasis.

‘I counted at least a hundred yesterday but there seem to be more now.’

Thirty to forty four-man tents, supported by single, central poles, six feet tall, were clustered in two concentric rings around the pool. Fires were lit and camels were being led down to the water’s edge to drink. It would have been a peaceful sight had it not been for the closely guarded corral, on the southern edge of the camp, in which at least two hundred men, women and children sat, miserably bound to posts hammered into the ground.

Vespasian looked back to Ahmose at the head of the thirty or so men he had brought from his town to escort the miserable lives that were to be the currency in this deal. ‘Well, priest, off you go. We’ll be watching from here.’

‘I won’t be long, this will be straightforward; Amun will watch over me as I’m doing his work.’

‘I do loathe a religious fanatic,’ Magnus commented as the priest led his party towards the Marmaridae’s camp.

Vespasian nodded in agreement. ‘I think that I despise anyone who makes his living by being a professional priest, selling religion to the fearful poor and then enjoying the comfort and the power that their money buys him. We do it much better at home where priesthoods are rewards for service to Rome and not a means to an easy life.’

‘You’ve got a point there, sir; but in general those who have priesthoods conferred upon them are already rich, although I’ve never known that to be a reason for not wanting more.’

Vespasian smiled. ‘Quite the opposite, normally.’

‘Indeed,’ Magnus agreed as they watched the Marmaridae gather around Ahmose and his men.

A brief conversation ensued after which Ahmose was led to a tent larger than the rest.

Vespasian, Magnus and Ziri waited in the twilight. Torches lit around the camp washed it with an orange glow. The temperature started to drop.

Eventually Ahmose reappeared from the tent with a grey-bearded man and gestured for his men to bring forward the goods to be bartered. Grey-beard inspected each one, checking teeth and feeling muscles in arms and legs as if he were looking at chariot horses that he was contemplating buying. Once each man had been checked Grey-beard turned back to Ahmose; it was clear by his demeanour that he was not happy.

‘Looks like we may have to fight our way in somehow to get the lads,’ Magnus observed as hand gestures became more frenetic.

The raised voices of the argument floated over the pool to where they lay hidden.

‘It’s not looking good,’ Vespasian agreed.

Suddenly the Marmaridae drew their swords and surrounded Ahmose’s men, disarming them. Five were then separated from the rest and were dragged struggling to Grey-beard for inspection; seemingly satisfied, he shouted an order and a party of Marmaridae headed off towards the slave corral.

‘Looks like the price just went up,’ Vespasian commented. ‘That’s not going to endear Ahmose to his men.’

Night had now fallen and torches burned all through the camp; in their flickering light Vespasian could see a group of men being led away from the corral. ‘That’s our lads, I can see Corvinus.’

Magnus squinted. ‘I can’t see anyone who could be Capella.’

‘We’ll have to come back for him; at least we now have the men to do that.’

The auxiliaries were brought to Grey-beard and Ahmose who both counted them off; once satisfied they nodded to each other and Ahmose led his men and the auxiliaries away from the camp while their unfortunate replacements were taken off to the corral.

‘Where’s Capella?’ Vespasian asked Ahmose upon his return.

‘They wouldn’t exchange him.’

‘Wouldn’t or was the price too high?’

‘I had to give him an extra five of my own men just to get back the ones I sold him yesterday,’ the priest barked. ‘I can’t afford any more.’

‘An extra five of your own men? You mean to say that none of those men you bartered were slaves?’

‘We don’t have slaves, it’s pointless, the Marmaridae steal them. I had to give them free men from the town. They drew lots and those who lost were willing to go with the blessing of Amun upon their heads.’

Vespasian stared at the priest in disbelief. ‘You sold your own people into slavery?’

‘It was Amun’s will; you heard the priests say so at the Oracle.’

‘But why didn’t you try and buy my men back with the silver that the Marmaridae paid for them?’

Ahmose frowned as if he could not understand the question. ‘That silver is Amun’s.’

‘And Amun would put more value on it than the lives of those men?’

The priest shrugged.

‘Of course he wouldn’t, but you would; living in comfort while all those around you have to toil in the heat; you disgust me, priest. We’ll go back to your town where you’ll lend me all of your fighting men, because I’m not leaving here without Capella and freeing those poor bastards who you sacrificed to your greed.’

‘You can’t do that; the will of Amun must be obeyed.’

‘His will or yours, priest?’

‘Vespasian, you Sabine country bastard, you left me to the slavers,’ Corvinus shouted storming up to him, ‘I’ll not forget that.’

‘I had no choice, you were dead drunk and slowing us down. And I would remind you, prefect, that I came back for you and your men and you are now free because of me, which wouldn’t have happened if we were all imprisoned in that corral together; so don’t forget that part of it either.’

‘And learn to hold your drink,’ Magnus advised him, ‘then perhaps you won’t find yourself taken prisoner so easily.’

Corvinus lashed out with his right fist at Magnus, who ducked under it and delivered a solid punch into his belly.

‘You picked the wrong man to box with,’ Magnus said as Corvinus crumpled to the floor, ‘I used to do it professionally.’

Vespasian came between them. ‘That’s enough! Get to your feet, Corvinus, and next time we rescue you I suggest that you say thank you rather than picking a fight and insulting me.’

The prefect looked up at Vespasian with hatred in his eyes. ‘You’ll regret this one day, quaestor, I promise you that.’

‘We’ll see; in the meantime we’ve got a citizen to rescue who’s about to suffer the same fate that you’ve just been saved from. Now go and see if any of your lads speak the local language.’

Two hours later they arrived back at the town’s agora. It was deserted; a few lamps burned behind shuttered windows.

‘Rouse your people, Ahmose,’ Vespasian ordered, ‘you and I are going to address them.’

‘Now?’

‘Yes, now! And you will translate for me. And have my men’s swords retrieved from wherever you’ve hidden them.’

The priest issued a command to his men and they fanned out through the town banging on doors and ordering the people to the agora.

Soon the square, now lit by flickering torches, was full of chattering people curious to know what was occurring. Vespasian, followed by Magnus and Ziri, mounted the temple steps with Ahmose and the auxiliary who Corvinus had found who spoke the local Siwi language.