Legionary by Gordon Doherty Read Free Book Online Page B

shimmering waters of the
Pontus Euxinus
. The silhouetted bulk of the town of Durostorum hugged the banks of the river; the squat stone bulwark of the XI Claudia fort lay dead centre of the plain between the crossroads and the town, a rocky island in the sea of cornfields about twelve stadia ahead of them. He traced his eyes over the train of merchant carts along the road to the fort; a constant flow in both directions — headed in with wine and food and back out laden with legionary wages.
    When you fall at the end of a sword, then my hands are clean.
He shivered at Tarquitius’ words.
    They walked, they bantered then they ate some more when Sura pulled a chunk of bread from his satchel — dry but welcome, and washed down with a skin of chill water. Then as the shadow of the fort loomed closer, both fell quiet. The fort, weatherworn and half-clad in spidering green moss, dominated the landscape for him. He cast an envious glance at Sura by his side; the Thracian’s face didn’t betray any hint of the fear Pavo felt gnawing at his insides again. The legions were sold as a glorious career path, but the truth of military life was brutally summarised by the sight of young men mutilating themselves on the city streets to avoid conscription. It was hard to believe the texts he had read telling of a time when the army was the most sought after vocation in the empire. Sure he was free, but survival was a transient concept in the legions.
    ‘Watch out!’ Sura yelled, shoving him to the roadside. A trade cart hurtled between them, its rider standing tall — taller than any Roman, with his blonde topknot billowing in his own slipstream. A spray of grit and dust whipped up and over their faces.
    ‘Bloody Goths!’ Sura spat. ‘Seems they can’t make up their mind whether to trade with us or make war. Those big buggers are exactly the types we’ll be up against after we’ve signed up. They’re everywhere, I hear.’ Sura turned to Pavo with a manic sparkle in his eyes. ‘You scared?’
    ‘No!’ Pavo started.
    Sura grew a wry smile and nodded slowly. ‘I’ll make you a deal,’ he said, looking Pavo up and down, then nodding towards the legionary fort. ‘Let’s face it, neither of us is built like a legionary…you’re more like a baby deer with those legs,’ he prodded a finger at Pavo’s slender knock-knees, scuffed and bruised. ‘So if we’re going to get through life in the legions, we can’t let the veterans mess with us. You watch my back, and I’ll watch yours, eh? Deal?’
    Pavo noticed an unfamiliar feeling in the pit of his stomach — this was the first time someone had spoken to him as a friend for over a year. Back at the slave quarters under Tarquitius’ villa, Kyros the Cretan, maybe ten years Pavo’s senior, had played dice with him at night and shared food. Together they had suppressed the bitterness of slavery and kept each other’s spirits up for many seasons. Then Tarquitius had bludgeoned him for stealing stale bread from the pantry until blood haemorrhaged from his eyes and ears.
    He bit back the cold memory, accepting Sura’s outstretched hand. ‘They aren’t too complimentary about the legions from where I come from. They say the soldiers are either local farmer boys, too young even to shave, or scum scraped from the city gutters; beggars, brigands and cutthroats — the scummier, the better.’
    ‘Didn’t put you off though, eh?’ Sura chirped, slapping Pavo on the back.
    ‘Look, I didn’t choose this…’
    ‘Aye, aye. And as I said; I’m King of Adrianople,’ Sura mocked.
    ‘Adrianople? I heard that lot couldn’t hold a torch to the street gangs of the capital,’ Pavo sighed dismissively, hitching up his pack. ‘The Blues and the Greens; vicious buggers — and I had to deal with them on a daily basis.’
    ‘Course you did,’ Sura picked up a piece of slate and hurled it. He was already in flight by the time it skated off the back of Pavo’s head.
    ‘You dirty