Atilus, you’ll know what to expect if you join the army. Stripes are common.’
‘I can’t join the army. No slave can be a legionary.’
‘Would you become one if you could?’ Macer’s eyes held a peculiar expression as if he held secret knowledge. ‘Would you?’
‘I might.’
‘I want to know, Atilus.’
I couldn’t understand his insistence, but it was easier to agree than to argue. ‘Yes, but—’
‘You can’t be accepted until you are free,’ he interrupted. ‘I know that.’
He leaned back on the couch, sweating in the heat. With a strigil I scraped the dirt and oil from his pores, wiping the curved, bronze blade on a scrap of linen. An attendant slave scowled at me as he passed, taking me for a normal client robbing him of a tip.
‘I’ll have to do military service anyway if I hope to gain public office,’ mused Macer. ‘Father wants me to stand for election, but I think I’ll stay with the army. When I’m the legate of a legion, I’ll show these armchair warriors just how to achieve victories. Earn a triumph too, maybe. Did you know that Aulus Plautius could claim a triumph if he wanted? He’s killed more than five thousand of the British; that’s more than the Emperor Claudius did and he was granted a triumph. You know, Atilus, the real power of Rome lies not in the Senate but with the legions. You’ll see.’
I said nothing, finishing my scraping, then following him into the cold plunge where we sported for a while before he decided that he wanted his massage.
I used scented oils and my fingers dug deep.
‘Careful, Atilus!’
‘Sorry.’
After the massage we sat in the cooling room and listened to the gossip. Today it was of Messalina, the Emperor’s wife. Claudius had finally discovered her flagrantly wanton behaviour and, after giving her a chance to commit suicide, had sent an officer to run her through with his sword.
The symbolism amused those present.
‘I’ll bet that’s the first time she’d had something long and hard shoved into her and didn’t like it,’ said a fat, red-faced man.
Another laughed.
‘Maybe she wouldn’t have complained had he put it somewhere else.’
‘Did you ever see her?’ A lean man with a badly scarred leg hunched forward on his chair. ‘She was a real beauty. I saw her once when I visited Rome; she was at the arena, you know, the one built by Titus Statilius.’
‘The Taurus? Is that still standing?’
‘Yes.’
‘A good show?’
‘Fair. I dropped in during the afternoon hoping to see some real action, but there was nothing special. They had a fairly good secutor, and some of the bestiarii weren’t too bad, but you can see as good at Lyons anyday. That wasn’t what I was going to tell you. Messalina was there with a few sychophants, among them a young lute player. Well, he was afraid of her, everyone could see that, and she kept threatening to throw him into the arena unless he did exactly what she wanted. I had a good seat and she didn’t trouble to lower her voice, so I could hear every word. The poor devil was sweating and he looked ready to throw a fit. She had a big gladiator with her and when she gave the signal, he picked up the lute player by his feet and held him head downwards over the sand. He had long hair and it hung down like a woman’s. A lion took a swipe at it and almost scalped him—he screamed as if he’d been gutted.’
‘And?’
‘He begged her to forgive him. When the gladiator set him down he dropped to his knees and kissed her feet. We could all tell what he had to do once they were alone.’
‘I bet he regrets it now,’ said the fat man. ‘From what I hear heads are falling all over Rome. The woman must have operated like a brothel.’
Macer said, ‘Why did she have to threaten anyone to make them go with her? If she was a beauty, surely any man would have been willing.’
The lean man grunted. ‘You’re young, friend, but think about it. Would you commit adultery with the wife of the Emperor? A word, and you’d find yourself tied in a sack with a boar. Or hanging on a cross. Or watching as they frizzled your genitals on a fire. No woman’s worth it.’
‘But how did she get away with it for so long?’
‘The husband’s the last to know,’ said the fat man. ‘Remember that when you’re married.’
‘But the Emperor! Surely someone would have told him?’
‘Would you have done?’ The lean man shook his head. ‘It’s taking a risk to tell any man his wife’s acting the harlot; carry a tale like that to a man like Claudius and he’d accuse you of treason. He doted on her. You know what they say, no fool like an old fool, and he was old enough to be her father. He even gave orders to people that they should do exactly what she told them. Naturally he didn’t know what her instructions would be—she certainly had him blinkered. Anyway, it’s over now. Say, did you hear about that senator in Ravenna?’
The talk went on, and it was late when we left the baths. Macer chose to take the long way back home, and he headed to where the legion camp stood on a flat stretch of ground beneath a low hill. It was a training camp for new recruits and we could see a detachment returning from a route march. The setting sun threw gleaming reflections from their shields and armour, and they made a fine sight as they passed. A tribune rode with them and he came trotting over to join us.
Tullius Voculus was just past twenty and already considered himself a veteran. He saluted Macer in the Roman manner.
‘Come to look us over?’
‘Just passing the time. Did you hear about Messalina?’
‘Probably long before you did.’ Voculus’s gesture hinted that it was stale news and no longer of interest to an officer of the legion like himself. ‘How is your father?’
‘Well. We haven’t seen you lately.’
‘I’ve been too busy breaking in this batch.’ The plume on the tribune’s helmet nodded as he jerked his head towards the marching men. ‘But I’ll be around soon. I enjoy dining with your family and I’ve got some family news from Rome.’
Voculus was a distant relative of Severus and liked to keep in contact. In the army, influence could always help an ambitious man to rise, and the tribune was ambitious.
Looking at the marching column, Macer said, ‘How are they shaping?’
‘Well enough, but they won’t be true legionaries until they’ve faced the enemy. That’ll weed out the failures and stiffen the rest. Come to think of it, I’ve a punishment scheduled. I don’t believe in keeping these things waiting; a quick show of discipline sets an example. It would do you good to watch. Teach you how men should be handled.’
Macer hesitated. ‘It’s late and I promised I would be home
