Nobody Loves a Centurion by John Maddox Roberts Read Free Book Online

Then it noticed the massive fighting bull that had been matched with it. Like a streak of golden light it was across the arena and had the much larger animal down so swiftly that it looked like magic. The tiger was a sensation and fought there for many years. To me, it was feral deadliness personified.
    When I saw those Germans, I thought about that tiger. These were not the semi-Gallicized Germans who dwelled along the river. They were the real thing; savages from the deep forests far beyond the Rhine.
    The dinner was somewhat less austere than that of the evening before, but it was not exactly a banquet. A few delicacies had been purchased from the merchants and a huntingparty had brought in a wild boar, but the envoys had no taste for olives and seemed to be repelled by our fermented fish sauce. Well, there is no accounting for tastes. I noticed that the Druids ate no animal food, not even eggs.
    When the dinner was over, Caesar held audience. First to speak was the head of the Helvetian delegation. He wore a voluminous cloak woven in a dazzling pattern of checks and lines that intersected and overlapped bewilderingly. He had it wrapped about him against the chill of the evening. It was fastened at his shoulder by a golden brooch at least eight inches in diameter. His speech was translated by a respected Roman merchant who had lived in Gaul all his life, but I kept Lovernius close by me to make sure that the translation was accurate.
    I will not try to reproduce here the many and extravagant images, figures of speech, and circumlocutions employed by the envoy, for the Gallic love of rhetoric exceeds even the Roman fondness for that art. Instead, I shall convey the gist of his words, which shortens his speech tremendously.
    “Honored Proconsul of Rome, I, Nammeius, chieftain of the Helvetii, speak to you here on behalf of the glorious, the powerful, the ever victorious nation of Helvetia; ever just in her dealings with other nations, vigilant in peace and fierce in war, fair of face and form, sonorous of voice, generous, noble, and proud.” From this you may imagine how tedious it would be if I wrote down everything he actually said.
    “Rome listens.” Caesar’s vividly contrasting acknowledgment was in that spare, laconic style with which we were all to become so familiar. Nammeius was nonplussed. He had expected something more fulsome.
    “Noble Caesar, for a final time, I protest that your interference with our migration is unjust and uncalled for. We area nation of true men, and only persons lacking in manliness and spirit dwell in a single place forever, wearing out the land and fighting only the same neighbors. In the honored tradition of our ancestors we intend to burn our towns and farms behind us and pass through the land of the Allobroges and through your province into the territory beyond, where Rome and her allies have no interests.
    “We promise to undertake this migration peacefully, and to cause no damage to the lands through which we must pass. No one will be killed or enslaved, no property will be stolen or harmed in any way. We have no need of plunder, for our movable goods will be on our wagons. We need not forage for provisions, for we will carry with us all the grain we need for the march. You must permit this, Caesar. Already, the smoke of our towns, our oppida , and our farmsteads rises to the heavens. Already the wagons are loaded and the folk have massed along the river. The season draws nigh when we must begin our migration, or it will be too late when we arrive at our destination.
    “Caesar, when last we spoke, you asked for time to consider our request. This seemed reasonable to us and we granted you this interval. Now we find that you have employed this time in building a great rampart, the sort of thing for which you Romans are famous throughout the world. I must urge upon you the futility of this thing, for we are not Greeks to be terrified by a wall. When the Helvetii move upon their