The Golden Dice - A Tale of Ancient Rome (32 page)

He chuckled. “True enough. Set up outside then. But remember, you’re to address me as ‘my lord’ in front of the others.”

Pinna liked to hear his laughter. Proximity over the months had led to a friendship of sorts. The pretense of convincing others she was his concubine had been a strain at first. He was irritated that he had conceded to her blackmail. Over time, though, his awkward greetings and stilted commands had relaxed into conversation as he realized she could survive without complaining. To her surprise she found he liked women even though he did not desire them. And although there was no chatter or gossip between them, knowing his secret led to understanding his fears and failings, dreams and ambitions.

As she bustled about, one of the general’s servants appeared. “General Camillus is calling for you, sir.”

Marcus nodded and immediately straightened his belt and tunic. The commander expected his officers to be well groomed.

“
The general is asking for Pinna, too, sir.”

Her heartbeat quickened.

Marcus frowned. “Does he have one of his headaches again?”

“
Yes, sir.”

Pinna collected some puls bread and stashed it into her basket together with various flasks. “Is his headache very bad?”

The man grimaced. “Bad enough to need you. Bad enough to be ill-tempered, too.”

The white flag marking the command tent’s position hung limp in the hot windless day. Pinna and the manservant struggled to keep up with Marcus as he strode through the main avenue towards it.

Camillus sat outside on his curved chair. Orderlies dithered around him as he barked directions. The grooves on either side of his mouth were deep, his forehead furrowed.

Drusus sat on a stool beside him, tall even when seated, his corselet with the boar’s-head crest emblazoned on its bronze pectorals emphasizing his frame. Disgust registered on his face when he saw her. Pinna’s sense of excitement and importance at being summoned drained away. She braced herself for the familiar wave of dread and revulsion that always swept through her at the sight of him. Terror that he might harm her again. Self-loathing for how he’d made her feel unclean. And fear that he could reveal she’d been a night moth.

Then the surge subsided. She reminded herself he had reason to be afraid of her. She had power, too. They had reached an impasse, and she could tell that it infuriated him that he was frustrated by her ability to threaten him in turn.

Pinna steadied herself and met his gaze. He looked away.

“
Ah good,” said Camillus, noticing her. “I need you to rid me of this pain.”

“
I will try, my lord.”

Her skill with curing aches and injuries was well known. Marcus always boasted how he recovered faster than others. Word spread. Soon she was tending to his fellow soldiers, and then the general. Over the past three seasons she’d done this many times.

Her care was rudimentary, her supplies simple: bandages, bone needles and the three cure-alls of mustard seed, castor leaves and knitbone. Her mortar and pestle had become her dearest possessions. The rhythm of pounding and grinding such plants granted her satisfaction that she could do good; that she was no longer needed for her body. The poultices she brewed calmed contusions and drew pus from boils. Congestion was cleared, coughs soothed and inflammations lessened.

Yet she was renowned for more than just her remedies. Her greatest talent was to heal by touch. Despite her slightness her arms and hands were strong. She had been a farmer’s daughter who’d labored at ten years of age, and with hard work her strength had returned. She used her hands to rub away pain and tension, and to help men exercise, which hastened the mending of muscle and bone.

“
Shall I prepare a poultice for you?”

Camillus motioned to Marcus to sit down beside Drusus. “No. Just massage my neck while I talk.”

Rubbing some oil onto her hands Pinna stood behind him. She brushed his hair away before encircling his neck with her fingers and pressing her thumbs into the base of his skull. He gave a small moan then bent his head forward, exposing more of his neck.

The first time Marcus had recommended her she was amazed to find Camillus remembered her name. She had flushed with pleasure then shook with nerves at the prospect of touching him, aware that her hands were red and roughened from washing and other chores.

Soon he was asking for her whenever he suffered headaches. While it distressed her to see him grappling with pain so severe his vision sometimes blurred, it also pleased her that she was the only one who could provide him with relief.

He was a man of moods. His smile was warm, his laughter infectious, but she saw the dark side of him also. The frustration of his ambitions enraged him even as it spurred him to strive harder.

As the two soldiers waited for Camillus to speak, Pinna massaged the general in silence. Drusus scrutinized her every movement. She avoided looking over to him, but even so she could feel his contempt.

Marcus observed her without expression, but she sensed his unease at the familiarity between his commander and his concubine. Neither he nor Drusus could afford her to whisper secrets into their leader’s ear.

Camillus kept his head bowed, taking a deep breath whenever she probed any sore spots. Pinna concentrated on loosening the knots of muscle. She liked the way the sinews were strong, leading into the ridge of his shoulders. She spread her fingers along them, then across the base of his throat. There was a lump in his clavicle where the bone had not knitted properly after being broken in some past conflict.

Marcus ventured a question as the general relaxed under Pinna’s touch. “Do you have orders for us, sir?”

Camillus lifted his head. His eyes were bloodshot. “Yes, I need both of you to escort the plunder back to Rome. And take the badly wounded with you so they may be tended in their homes.”

Disappointment crossed both men’s faces. Marcus’ look was fleeting, wary of offending his commander. Drusus was less able to hide his emotions.

“
Do you have some complaint, Claudius Drusus?”

Drusus was quick to shake his head, but the tense way he held his body signaled he was far from happy. “No, sir, it’s just I think I might be better able to serve by fighting a battle than guarding a wagon train.”

“
Is that so?” Camillus lowered his head again to give Pinna greater purchase. “Well, there’ll be no battles while you’re absent. Only more raiding parties.”

The two officers glanced at each other. The news was far from heartening. There was no need for valor nor any great danger posed from sacking villages. No chance for glory either.

Pinna had often wondered why the general didn’t attempt to storm Falerii’s citadel. Three seasons had passed with no siege lines dug or war engines constructed. Didn’t he think the Faliscans should be punished for helping the Veientanes trounce Sergius? Marcus often complained in private about the lack of action. He longed to ride into battle with spear leveled while the heavy infantry clashed phalanx against phalanx. Instead forts were manned on crossroads to blockade trade, and Roman supply bases were established. There had been constant skirmishes, though. So far the enemy had failed to defeat Camillus when his troops remained mobile: attacking, pillaging and retreating with lightning speed.

Every time Pinna served fruit, eggs and vegetables or cooked fresh meat she tried to forget that they were seized from poor farmers. She could imagine only too well the desperation left in the wake of the attacks. It was harder to ignore her knowledge of the killings, rapes and torture. She told herself they were the enemy. That if General Camillus did not act it would be Roman farmers and their families who would suffer such treatment.

When the decurions said nothing, the commander raised his head and growled. “I gather you expected me to have taken Falerii by now. But how exactly do you propose that be done? It is surrounded by ravines. Access to it is only from one side and that is protected by high walls, mound and ditch. And it is no use meeting in battle outside the city. A phalanx formation collapses over broken terrain.”

A slight stammer crept into Drusus’ speech. “But Veii’s defenses are the same, sir. Are you telling us we won’t be able to take that city, too?”

Camillus straightened his shoulders causing Pinna to stop her treatment. His movement was minor but ominous. “No, but I think Rome needs other tactics. Squeeze our enemies of supplies. Truly starve them. Neither Veii nor Falerii can afford to lose fertile farmlands. I intend to burn Faliscan crops and raze their towns instead of stealing grain. With their harvest destroyed their worst fears will come true. And then, instead of breaching Falerii’s gates, we will force its people to open them from hunger and disease. We will finally make them pass beneath the yoke.”

Marcus stared at him. “Burn their crops, sir? Surely we should send the produce back to Rome? What of the drought in our city? And the famine?”

“
Do you question my strategy?”

Marcus swallowed. “No, sir. I just don’t fully understand it.”

The general rubbed his brow and sighed, but when he spoke his usual determination overcame weariness. “Rome has endured hardship before and will survive it now. As I’ve said before, sometimes there has to be suffering to gain benefit. We must stand strong in adversity. In time, rain will come.”

Pinna was glad she was no longer massaging him. She was sure her dismay would be conveyed through her touch. This man was harsh. Was he right to let Rome starve while trying to inflict the same fate upon its foe?

Marcus nodded. “It will take bravery, then. From all citizens.”

Camillus tapped his gold ring. “Yes, one that Calvus must understand.” He gestured for Pinna to resume. She pressed her fingers into muscles that had once again tightened.

The general focused on the Aemilian. “Marcus, you must also persuade your father of the value of my plan. No doubt the commoners and nobles continue to bicker, thinking not of strategies but plots, not of tactics but conspiracies. That is another reason why I wish you to return. I need to know the politics in my absence. Speak to Aemilius and convince him of my reasons for not besieging Falerii. He most of all understands the difficulties of direct assault on such a city. He has been the only general so far who has come close to touching Veii’s walls. I want him to direct his energies to supporting, not undermining me.”

The soldier saluted. “I will talk to him, sir. I will make him understand.” His demeanor had changed from frustration to fervor. And Pinna knew that, despite his love and respect for his father, it was Camillus alone whom he would follow to the brink.

Drusus stood also. “And my orders, sir? Would you like me to canvass support as well?”

Camillus waved his hand dismissively. “Of course, of course. Do what you can with those of your friends who might listen.”

Drusus’ face fell. He and Marcus were already the commander’s acolytes. At every opportunity they vied with other officers for the general’s attention. Both lived to be praised; were despondent if ignored or criticized. Yet Pinna felt no sympathy that Drusus had been reduced to merely being an escort for a caravan.

The general had not finished with his decurions. “As for armed conflict, neither of you must despair. Vel Mastarna has not been successful at the Etruscan League, but his troops are shoring up the Faliscan army. I can’t afford for him to thwart our blockades or come to the aid of townships we’ve already taken. We may yet have to engage him in pitched battle on the plain.”

The red-haired officer clenched his fists by his sides. His stutter had disappeared. “I would do more than make Mastarna submit to our control, sir.”

Camillus leaned his weight onto the armrest. “Oh, and what would that be, soldier?”

“
Exact vengeance for Rome—torture the smooth-skinned bastard before he is slain. Then raze Veii to the ground.”

Goose bumps rose on Pinna’s arms, remembering the words carved into the lead defixio. Drusus now had a better chance to make real his curse.

“
And Aemilia Caeciliana? What revenge would you mete upon her?”

Drusus was careful to avoid Pinna’s gaze. “Execute her.”

Pinna gasped. Given the love spell on the other defixio, it surprised her that Drusus would voice such false hatred. Her noise caused the general to glance around at her. She bowed her head and concentrated on her task.

Camillus knew the Claudian’s history, though. “Such hatred coming from a man who shouted to the delegations of both cities that you wished to marry her. You smeared the blood from your wounded calf onto the spear used to declare war. Are you telling me you are no longer infatuated with Caecilia?”