Адриан Голдсуорти - The Encircling Sea

‘You do not need to do this, sir.’ The corona civica was one of the oldest awards, given for saving the life of a fellow citizen.

‘Oh, I do. Traditions are important, don’t you think? They are what makes us Romans.’ The tradition was that the saved man make a wreath and give it to his rescuer, although it was a rare custom these days. Claudius Super took the old ways seriously, perhaps because he was so desperately proud of his family name and worried by their lack of great wealth.

‘If the noble Crispinus had not come out through the gap in the barricade then I am not sure any of us would have made it. Grateful though I am for you acclaim, is it not fitter that you give this to him? I am sure the legate would acknowledge his claim to the award. He is a brave young man in his first post.’ Ferox did not bother to add that this meant he was likely to rise high, that the corona civica would do his career no end of good, and that such a man was likely to prove a more useful friend in the future than a mere centurion. He could see the other man coming to the same conclusion, a little slowly, for his was not a quick mind.

‘I still believe you should have this.’ To his credit, Claudius Super was reluctant to give up his first idea.

‘Many years ago, another citizen presented me with a crown. He was killed sixth months later. I would rather not wish such ill fortune on you.’

‘Would you not?’ Claudius Super grinned. ‘I have scarcely been a friend to you in the last few years. If it is any consolation, I apologise for my behaviour. You are a fine officer and a good Roman, and I should probably have listened to your advice more often in the past.’

‘Then take it now. Give the wreath to the tribune. It will mean so much to him and he is a brave man, worthy of honour.’

‘Very well.’ Claudius Super offered his hand and Ferox shook it. ‘At least you have taken that from me. Good fortune as you help the tribune with these Hibernian rascals. Dare say they want gold and weapons from us and will only give us a couple of glass beads. That queen looks a bit of an amazon, though. Did you see her sword? Pretty enough, but not sure I’d fancy meeting her on a dark night. Oh, I don’t know, though.’ He leered at Ferox.

‘Good luck, sir,’ Ferox called as Claudius Super rode off, still thinking that he had rarely met a bigger fool.

THE HOUSE WAS large and L-shaped, the smaller wing containing a bath. A line of rowan trees grew beyond it on the side facing the sea, and in years to come they might become tall and thick and help to take the bite out of the strong westerly winds, but for the moment they were young and small. The house itself was new, the red-brown tiles still clean with scarcely any patches of moss and dirt to dull the brightness of the baked clay. Its rendered walls gleamed in the sunlight, finished only at the end of the previous summer. One day, it seemed that additional wings would be built to form a square, and a garden was already taking shape in what would become the middle. It had a pond in the centre, although the fountain did not yet work. A short distance away was a barn and stable, as well as a couple of squat, plainer buildings to house the slaves and freedmen who worked here. Two others, a workshop and a big storeroom, remained half-finished, but work on them was suspended in deference to the visitors.

Ferox got the impression that the Hibernians would have preferred something more familiar, preferably thatched and round, but the distinguished guests accepted rooms in the main house. A few of their servants and warriors stayed with them, while the rest went to the slaves’ quarters. Crispinus was full of praise for the house, which their host modestly declined, saying that the tribune was too generous. It was all a charade and both men knew it, but played their part as civilised men. Compared to many of the villas in southern Britannia, let alone those in Gaul, this was a modest establishment, the inside still heavy with the scent of limewash and new wood. By the standards of the estates in Italy and Spain it was tiny and crude, and it was one of three owned by Probus, the only one up in the north. The other two he had bought rather than built, and his hints implied that they were a good deal grander.

Probus was a man of medium height who seemed a lot taller until you stood beside him. Both the king and queen of the Darinoi topped him by several inches, but it seemed that they had met him before and he greeted them warmly. As Crispinus had said, Probus still had the air of a soldier, his movements neat and controlled, his long tunic hitched up high by a decorated belt, and his hair kept short. There was an old scar above his right eye, and others on his shins and arms. He spoke clear and precise Latin, the sort learned from a tutor, with only the odd word hinting at a Rhineland accent. His face was round, his frame big, like a lot of men with some Germanic blood. For all his careful manners and courtesy, it was when he had come in from the estate, smelling of damp wool and sweat, that he seemed most natural and, even when still, there was a sense of restless energy and sheer force about him.

Ferox did not trust him, and was not sure why. Genialis was with his father, urged into a lifeless speech of thanks to the centurion for saving him. It was enough to content the father, but the youth was always on the edge of things, looking sullen and resentful, except when he saw the queen, when his expression changed to one of blatant desire. On the second day, Ferox went to the stables to check on Bran and the horses. As he was coming through the door, he heard a shriek of pain. In one of the boxes, Genialis lay on the ground, with the Novantian boy on top of him, bending one of his arms back so that the youth shrieked again. Bran noticed him, twisted the arm once more, and then sprang up. Genialis, who was almost twice his size, pushed himself up, darted a look of hatred and then ran away, not saying a word. Bran nodded, leaned over to pick up a brush, and went back to cleaning Frost.

That afternoon, Ferox took the boy and his two horses over to the fort. It lay on the rise above the beach, an old temporary camp that had over time been kept in use, even though it was laid out for a mixed force a little smaller than a cohort. Detachments from various cohorts spent a year or six months here, and sometimes even legionaries came to the base, but a few months ago all of them had been posted back to their parent units to take part in the legate’s planned manoeuvres. Apart from a small number of clerks and men to perform essential fatigues, the fort had lain empty until a week ago, when Aelius Brocchus brought five turmae of his ala Petriana to act as escort to the Hibernians. There were also twenty Batavian horsemen to accompany Cerialis, and the two prefects had declined Probus’ hospitality. Instead, they and their families occupied the praetorium. It was a good deal smaller than the one at Vindolanda, and when a slave led him out into the central garden it was filled with excited noise.

Young Aelius was eight, thin and gangling, and seemed to be the leader, although Flavius was just a few months younger and did his best to keep up. The boy had flame-red hair, far more vivid in colour than his father, but otherwise the face was a smaller version of the prefect. Both boys were crouching over the central pond, using nets to fish out the leaves floating in the water, and because of this Ferox might not have noticed the slight crook in Flavius’ back unless he had been looking for it. Two smaller children, a girl and another boy, kept trying to push their way through and help, but were resisted with much splashing and merriment. The younger boy had a squeal that echoed around the courtyard. Two nurses were doing their best to stop the children from getting soaked. One of them bounded forward, when she thought the little boy was too close to the edge, but her foot slipped on the stones edging the sunken pond and she fell headlong into it with a great slash. The two oldest boys laughed so much that they had to lie down.