“Oh, now that is something!” Piso said excitedly.
“I knew you would be pleased.” Amelius smiled delightedly, apparently pleased with himself.
“She will do nicely,” Piso said, practically salivating.
So, that’s what all the waiting was about? Lucius thought. This was not a scavenging foray at all, but merely the tribune and his companion seeking carnal pleasures in the middle of the day. Evidently, the schoolboys had not had enough rape and murder in the village. The two nobles whispered to each other and giggled as they concocted deranged designs of what they were going to do to her. Glancing once at Vitalis, Lucius saw that the centurion’s face was set in a disapproving grimace beneath his rain spattered helmet.
Feeling remorseful for the woman as he watched her, Lucius came close to shouting out a warning to her, but he knew it would do no good. She could not get away. Little did she know what horrors awaited her. She looked to be in her late teenage years, and might be the farmer’s widow or daughter or wife. Judging from her attire, she had little to show for it, but she was attractive. Unfortunate for her, that blessing would turn into a curse today.
An outburst of barking sounded from one of the pens. Even from this distance, Lucius could see the flash of white fangs and the black, pointed ears of the large grey-coated dogs. There were two of them, penned together inside a sturdy wooden cage. Lucius had encountered the same breed in battle with the Germans, and knew them to be vicious when riled. The disturbance had interrupted the young woman’s singing, and she ordered the boy to stop work while she scanned the tree line around the farm. The hounds must have barked habitually whenever they caught the scent of any creature, man or beast, because, after a few moments of looking, the maiden dismissed their nervousness and was soon lost in her work again. Again, she began to sing, and not even the noise of the beasts could spoil the transcendence of her song. She sang a Celtic tune of which Lucius could not understand a word, but the haunting melody seemed to carry the voice of the very hills and trees around them.
“A tasty little thing,” Amelius said to the tribune. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes, you are just what I am looking for.” Piso said in a devilish whisper, as if talking to the distant woman directly. “I will have you, my pretty. Now, be a good girl, and go back inside for me.”
The impatient tribune had to wait a little longer than he desired, but eventually, the buckets were empty, and the woman and the boy went back inside the hut, her muffled singing still audible.
Piso then whipped around and gestured to Vitalis to follow with the two squads.
“Sir!” Vitalis interjected in a harsh whisper. “I advise against this. Something is not right here.”
Call it the instinct of a veteran of the Gallic wars, but Lucius fully understood Vitalis’s meaning. Aside from the dogs, the forest was too quiet to be natural. It was something that could only be felt, not conveyed, and the hardened veterans felt it now.
But the inexperienced and reckless Piso was oblivious to it. Ignoring the centurion’s warning, he and Amelius broke from cover and began sprinting toward the hut with swords drawn. Vitalis had no choice but to order the two squads forward.
“Stay together!” he commanded, glancing at Lucius for the first time since they had left the column. It was a guilty look and it did not last long. “Proper interval, now! Two ranks! Line abreast! March!”
Lightning flashed again, reflecting off of the legionaries’ bronze helmets. The soldiers crossed the field at a brisk pace, the light sprinkle of rain beading on the links in their mail armor and soaking through to their tunics. The tribune and his companion had crossed the field far ahead of the legionaries, and were both leaping over the waist-high rock wall before the soldiers were half-way there. The two reached the hut and took up positions on both sides of the door, waiting for the woman to re-emerge. She still sang, despite the fact that the two dogs in the cage now worked themselves into a frenzy, clawing and gnawing at the bolted door.
As Lucius’s boots crunched on the sprouts of wheat, he began to wonder why this farm had been spared the devastation that had been inflicted on all of the other farms for miles around. No doubt, it was yet another factor that contributed to Vitalis’s nervousness. Perhaps the farm belonged to a Nervii chieftain. Still, something was not right about the place.
The woman finally emerged from the hut, just as the two squads of legionaries reached the rock wall. She took one look at them and her face went blank. She dropped the buckets to run back inside the hut, but she had not seen Piso and Amelius behind her. In an instant, they had her firmly in their clutches. The two men taunted her and laughed as she struggled to get away.
“Oh, she’s a feisty one!” Piso said avoiding the woman’s attempts to bite him and spit in his face. “She’ll do very well, I think.”
“There goes the lad!” shouted one of the soldiers, pointing to the back of the hut, where the boy had emerged from another door and was bolting for the forest.
“Let him go!” shouted Piso, evidently not wanting to be bothered by the boy. “Centurion, post your men as we have discussed!”
“Yes, sir,” Vitalis replied, half-heartedly and then motioned for the century to fan out. “First squad, stand watch behind the hut. Second squad, over by the mill. Move!”
Before Lucius could move out with his squad, Vitalis extended his branch to stop him. “Not you, Lucius. You remain here.”
Lucius noticed Jovinus cast a curious glance over his shoulder as Jovinus and the rest of the squad started to move out, but a glare from Vitalis sent the nosy soldier quickly on his way.
Soon all of the others were out of earshot, leaving only Lucius behind with the tow officers and the squirming woman. The three officers made no attempt to hide their intentions now, and Lucius had suddenly become the center of their attention. Vitalis was looking at him, his face a mix of internal strife and determination. Piso and Amelius were looking at him, too, their faces brandishing poisonous grins. Even the woman, struggling between the two nobles, was looking at him, her eyes filled with fear and confusion.
“I think this son of a miner is going to piss himself!” Piso said mockingly.
“He looks simply frightened!” Amelius jeered, followed by a high-pitched laugh.
Lucius was nothing of the kind, but he held his tongue. He knew exactly what this was. They were trying to make him angry, trying to coax him into doing something insubordinate, so that military justice could do their dirty work for them. It all made sense now. The scant number of soldiers meant fewer witnesses, and now that the others were out of earshot, it would be his word against the officers’. There was no escape. It was not an unknown trick in the legions. He had seen it done to others before, by other corrupt officers who fit the mold of Piso and Amelius, but he had never expected it from the likes of Vitalis.
He was certainly angry. He was enraged. He cared little about the bloody tribune and his pretty-boy pet, but the betrayal of Vitalis left him fuming. He half thought of driving his pilum through the centurion’s neck, if he could manage it. Vitalis was quicker than he.
“I see his lip quivering,” Piso said tauntingly. “Too bad he has no mother to run home to. What do you think, Vitalis?”