Carbo and the Thief

  Carbo and the Thief

  And Other Tales of Ancient Rome

  By Alex Gough

  © Alex Gough 2014

  Alex Gough has asserted his rights under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

  To Abigail

  Also by Alex Gough

  Watchmen of Rome

  Gaius Valerius Carbo has returned to the heart of the Empire after 25 years serving in the legions. He just wants to retire in peace. But his friends are gone, his family are dead, and his home now belongs to someone else.

  When local thugs attack the tavern where he is resting, he finds himself caught up in the fight, and inadvertently becomes the new owner of the building - and the enemies that come with it.

  His world is turned upside down when he is confronted with a face from his past. He had sworn to protect and look after his childhood friend Rufa after her father died alongside him in battle.

  But now she has been sold into slavery, and is on the run from her mistress, Elissa. Elissa is a powerful priestess who is organising a cult to try and destroy Rome from within.

  Can Carbo protect Rufa - and Rome - from Elissa’s evil plan?

  Or will her following be too strong for the Watchmen of Rome?

  Watchmen of Rome is available in paperback or kindle formats here

  Praise for Watchmen of Rome

  “An action adventure plot at its best, with a pace that doesn't let up throughout...the book is one of the better reads in the genre and I would urge anyone to take a chance and give it a read. If you love Rome, action, adventure, intrigue and comedy even, you'll enjoy it.” SJA Turney, author of the bestselling Marius’ Mules series.

  From reviews on amazon.co.uk

  “I honestly thought it was superb. It had everything to make me want to keep reading it and I thought it was well written, well researched and highly entertaining.”

  “Bought this in the first instance for hubby. He absolutely loved it and devoured it within 48 hours. Outstanding. Highly recommended.”

  “Excellent book - couldn't put it down! The genuine historical content is interesting but doesn’t take away from excellent characters and plot. Looking forward to his next book.”

  “Loved it.”

  CONTENTS

  Carbo and the Thief

  Carbo and the Gladiator

  Elissa the Priestess

  Vespillo and the Thracian Revolt

  The Battlefield

  The Wall

  Carbo and the Thief

  The legionary looked dead, Felix thought. In reality he was dead drunk, he knew. He had been watching him all evening, following him through the alleyways of Divodorum Mediomatricorum. The streets were full, legionaries on leave blowing their donatives, veterans spending their pensions, and local bartenders, hawkers and prostitutes willingly accepting their cash. Felix had eyes only for this one though.

  It was only a few hours earlier, as the sun was descending, that Felix had been sitting beneath the aqueduct, hands outstretched, pleading for alms. There were so many beggars, some much more deserving than he. Amputee veterans, skinny mothers with emaciated babies, the elderly, the blind, the infirm. He knew many by name, many more by sight, liked a handful, hated more. When it came down to it though, each had to look after their own. Felix had a younger sister, Tullia, who was his sole responsibility. He wasn't quite sure how old she was, but he thought he had seen around ten summers, and Tullia a couple less. She was certainly too young to survive without him.

  So Felix's daily existence was hand to mouth, subsistence achieved by begging, petty theft and the occasional coin from running an errand for a shopkeeper or porter. Surplus was rare, and was stored against the common situation where a day of toil left him empty-handed. Today was a day of surplus, two copper coins burning a hole in a hidden pocket inside his tunic. A rich young man, probably an equestrian, had given him a note to take to a certain house, with express instructions that it should be handed to the mistress of the house, and no one else.

  It had taken some persuasion to get the porter to summon her, and when the pretty matron had arrived, she had looked down at him with contempt. She had taken the rolled note from him with reluctance and a wrinkled nose, but her face lit up when she saw the seal. She tore the note open and beamed with delight as she read. Then she had bade the porter to tip him two asses and had wandered away distractedly into the house. The porter had passed over the two coppers coins, and sent him on his way, with the admonishment to tell no one about the message.

  Felix was young, but he wasn't stupid. Life on the streets gave no shelter from exposure to suffering, violence or adult pleasures. Many was the time that Felix had sheltered with Tullia in a tomb, disused warehouse or temple portico, crammed in with strangers who shared every aspect of their lives. So he figured out that the married matron who resided in the sumptuous domus he had just visited was carrying out some illicit activity with the young nobleman he had acted as courier for. He filed it away in his mind for possible future use, although what use that could be, he wasn't sure. No one was likely to believe a street urchin with any allegations of wrong doing, and if the miscreants feared even doubt being sown, then they would have no problem in hiring someone to do away with him and dump his body in the Tiber. All in all, trouble like that was best avoided, and he would just enjoy the fortune that the two copper coins represented to him.

  He had planned to spend the evening with Tullia, relieving Servilia, the old blind lady who kindly cared for her, from her baby sitting duties. They had sat beneath the aqueduct with palms out, three among a crowd of many, unsuccessfully importuning the passers by as the sun sank in the sky. When the alms for the old lady were low, Felix often contributed some of his own supplies to her, food or a coin. She was the exception to his rule of everyone looking after their own. He told himself it was not sentimentality, but the vital role she played in providing childcare for Tullia.

  Then Felix met the legionary.

  The soldier, tall and skinny with a scar on one cheek, had looked their way when Felix called out for pity. He had leaned over, laughed, and spat on Tullia. Tullia took the insult with equanimity, nothing new for her. The blind lady put a protective arm around the little girl. Felix bridled at the insult, though was powerless to attempt redress. But then he became transfixed by the bulla dangling on a chain from the soldier's neck.

  The bulla was a common enough charm. Worn by male children to ward them against evil spirits, this soldier seemed to be attached enough to his to wear it as an adult. Many legionaries were understandably superstitious, so maybe this one felt it brought him luck, despite the obvious teasing wearing the childish symbol would bring him.

  The bulla was in the shape of a winged penis with a bulbous tip, and looked like it was made of solid silver. So maybe it was more than just luck for which it was worn - it had value too. One of the wings was broken halfway down, and there was a notch in the shaft of the disproportionate phallus.

  The legionary saw Felix staring at the charm, and put a hand to it protectively. He signed a curse towards them, and wandered away, a slight stagger in his stride suggesting that he had started the night's drinking early. Felix averted his eyes until the legionary was some distance away, then stared at the retreating back, mind whirling. He placed a hand on the blind lady's arm.

  “Servilia, will you mind Tullia, for a bit longer for me, please?”

  “Of course, dear,” said Servilia.

  “Where are you going, Felix?” asked Tullia, petulantly.

  “I have ... something to do.”

  So Felix had followed the legionary from tavern to tavern, watching him get drunker and drunker as his purse got lighter and lighter
. There was a short stay in a brothel, remarkably short, Felix had thought, having a rough idea of what was supposed to happen in there, and then the legionary in fouler temper had emerged and headed for another tavern and another drink.

  By the time the moon had risen into the starred sky, the legionary was barely capable of standing. Felix watched from a distance, still unobtrusive, as the legionary slumped against a wall and then slid down it.

  Now he watched the gentle rise and fall of the legionary's chest, indicating that the man was asleep, or had drunk himself unconscious, or some combination of the two. The time had come for Felix to act, but he hesitated. This wasn't an apple or loaf from the market, deserving of a striping from one of the vigiles. This was something of value, and if he was caught, he could expect to be punished with a long trip to the salt mines. Or a short one, if what he had heard about the life expectancy there was true.

  He looked around him. The street was momentarily deserted. The soldier snored. It was now or never. He tiptoed up to the recumbent figure, and gently picked up the bulla. It was attached by a copper chain, but he couldn't immediately see the fastener. He probed around the back of the legionary's neck, and he smiled as his fingers touched a hook.

  The legionary's eyes opened, and he gripped Felix's wrist. Felix jumped backward with a cry, keeping his grasp on the bulla. The light chain broke and the charm came away in his hand, unbalancing him so he stumbled onto his backside. The legionary staggered to his feet, and Felix sat for a moment, frozen with terror. Then the soldier let out an enraged roar, and Felix jumped up and bolted down the street.

  Unsteadily, the soldier gave chase. Felix was young and fast, but the soldier was a grown man, used to marching for hours every day with a heavy pack on his back. So despite his impaired state, and the head-start that Felix had, the legionary was soon gaining on the young thief.

  Felix ducked down a narrow side alley, hurdling sleeping dogs and beggars, weaving around citizens and soldiers. The cry of “Stop thief!” rang out behind him, too close. He turned another corner, and risked a glance back. As he did so, a large figure emerged from a tavern, and he ran headlong into a solid chest. He found himself dumped onto his backside for the second time in as many minutes, and stared up at a tall muscular figure, with charcoal hair and a military bearing, but wearing a civilian tunic.

  “Watch where you are going, boy,” growled the man.

  Felix mumbled an apology as he rose, then heard the footsteps of the legionary. With no time to think, he pressed the bulla into the hand of the large man.

  “I didn't steal it,” he said, then fled.

  The legionary arrived just in time to see the exchange. He watched the boy flee for a moment, then obviously decided it was more important to regain the charm. He stopped in front of the large man, putting his hands onto his knees and leaning forward while he regained his breath.

  “Thank you,” he gasped, holding out a hand. “Damn thief. If you would be so kind...”

  The large man didn't move, and when the legionary had regained his wind, he straightened himself as best he could and looked the newcomer in the eye. The legionary was tall, so he was able to do this, but he saw now the extent of the man's bulk, muscular chest stretching his tunic, rough scarred skin covering meaty arms. The legionary's expression hardened.

  “Hand it over,” he said, trying not to slur. “Then we can both be about our business.”

  The large man was turning the bulla over in his hand thoughtfully. “The boy said he didn't steal it.”

  The legionary regarded him with surprise. “Well of course. Did you expect him to confess his crime?”

  “I didn't expect him to discuss it at all. And certainly not to give it to me.”

  “It was his best chance of escape, to drop the thing he had stolen.”

  “To drop it, yes,” said the man. “To give it to a stranger though...” He trailed off thoughtfully.

  The legionary looked exasperated now.”Look, friend. The hour is late, and there are taverns and brothels in this blighted town that I still haven't visited.”

  “Don't let me detain you,” said the man. “I think I will hang on to this trinket for the time being, though.”

  “That trinket belongs to me!” blurted the legionary.

  “So you say,” said the man. “But there appears to be more than one theory regarding its ownership.”

  At this, the legionary finally lost his barely restrained temper. He drew his gladius and brandished it at the man holding his charm.

  “I don't know who you are, but give me back my property now, or this will end badly for you.”

  The man stepped inside the drunken legionary's reach so swiftly the soldier hardly saw him move. A twist at the wrist, and he was painfully disarmed. A punch to the bridge of the nose of unbelievable power, and the soldier was on his knees, clutching his face, blood spurting between his fingers.

  The man looked down on him.

  “I'm Gaius Valerius Carbo. Pilus prior of the 2nd cohort of the XIIIth Gemina.” He turned and walked off, then remembered something and turned back. “Retired,” he added.

  Carbo woke with a piece of straw sticking in his ear. The mattress was torn, its stuffing spilling out onto the floor. He took a moment to orient himself, to remember he wasn't in his lodgings in the legion camp, but in a tavern several days journey south of legionary headquarters. He rolled his legs out of bed and sat up, stretched, wincing as the poorly healed wound on his leg complained. There was a bowl of water on the table and he splashed some on his face, rubbing away the sleep. He blinked a few times, and his gaze came to rest on the winged penis charm that sat next to the bowl, where he had left it before retiring the previous night.

  A hammering came at the door. He picked up the bulla and dropped it into the purse that contained his most valued treasures - his coins and gems, painstakingly gathered over twenty five years of service. He glanced around the room, making sure his gladius was in easy reach, then opened the door.

  Two grim-faced legionaries stood there, in full dress uniform. The older, a short, stout fellow who looked near to retirement, hung back, letting the younger one, who seemed to be the century's optio, do the talking.

  “Gaius Valerius Carbo?”

  Carbo nodded.

  “You are to come with us.”

  Carbo gave a half smile. “I'm retired. I am no longer at the whim of your commander.”

  “This isn't about orders, Carbo. Not yours anyway. You have been accused of theft. You are to come and see our centurion, Balbus, who will decide on whether there is a case to answer.”

  “Theft? That doesn't concern the legions.”

  “It does when it was a legionary that was the victim.”

  Carbo sighed. Just a few days into his retirement, looking forward to peace and calm. His own fault, he supposed, for getting involved. But something about that boy had reminded Carbo of his young self, getting into trouble on the streets of Rome. Besides, there was something curious about the situation.

  “I think I need to make some enquiries. Can you tell your centurion I will attend him before sundown?”

  The two legionaries exchanged glances, and loosened their gladii pointedly.

  “I don't think you understand. Our orders are to take you to see our centurion, now.”

  Carbo stepped forward, so his face was up close to the optio, and barked, “No, soldier. You don't understand. I am Gaius Valerius Carbo, recently pilus prior of the XIIIth Gemina [check] and I am telling you I have things to do. Now unless you want to things to get messy, I suggest you do as you are told, and take my message to your centurion.”

  The tone of command in Carbo's voice almost had the desired effect in the optio, yet his sense of duty obviously held him back from instant obedience.

  “But, sir, my orders...”

  The older legionary was tugging at the optio's tunic.

  “Sir,” he said quietly. “There was a Carbo. I think in the XIIIth. The one who
survived the Varian disaster.”

  The optio looked at his comrade, then back to Carbo, shock and admiration on his face.

  “You're that Carbo?”

  Carbo's face was impassive. The young optio flushed.

  “Well, ahem, in that case, in the circumstances, all things considered, um, attending the centurion's summons by sundown will, I'm sure be quite acceptable.”

  Carbo inclined his head, then waited. The optio shuffled his feet for a moment, then gave an uncertain salute, and turned, the older legionary in his wake. Carbo smiled, closed the door after them, then turned and fished the bulla out of his purse. He regarded it for a while. The piece was obviously old, with a multitude of nicks and scars over its surface, as well as the broken wing and the gouge in the shaft. Looking past that, though, it was clear even to the untrained eye that the workmanship was good, and the metal seemed to be unadulterated silver. Still, was it really just about the monetary value? For the legionary, it likely had worth for luck in battle, or elsewhere in life, but for the boy? If it was just about the money, why give it away so readily? And why proclaim he wasn't a thief, when superficially the evidence was all to the contrary.

  Carbo slid the bulla back into his purse, and headed for the door. There was only one person who could answer these questions. But how easy would he be to find?

  As Carbo wandered through the poorest and roughest parts of the town, he re-examined his motives. If he was completely honest with himself, the main reason he found himself searching the dregs of the town's populace, looking for a beggar and probable thief, was obstinacy. He didn't like demands being made on him, even by his superiors in the army. It was an instinct he had had to curb to rise to the position he had achieved, but orders still had a tendency to grate with him. When they were given to him by a mere legionary, and a drunken disrespectful one at that, there was no chance he was going to acquiesce.