‘Soldier, are you? That explains the muscles. Well now, Soldier, since you’ll probably lose your load in seconds, I’ll do you for two sestertii. Which you can get by reclaiming what you overspent on that tunic …’ She jerked her head at the tunic vendor who was looking up at them with an expression of unease bordering on naked fear. ‘He usually only charges two.’
As the late-afternoon sun dipped towards the roofs of the transit barracks, a bored-looking boy dressed in a tunic cut in the military pattern wandered out of the main gate. He was wearing a belt that ensured the garment’s hem hung above his scabbed and somewhat grubby knees but which also, far more to the interest of the five children sitting around and playing knucklebones on the other side of the road, carried the weight of a half-sized sword. Dressed in an assortment of clothing that appeared to be either too big or worn threadbare, they watched the child with expressions of calculation as he walked slowly towards them. After a swift discussion, the biggest of them stood up and approached him with a hard grin, but the boy’s calm stare and firm grip of the sword’s hilt swiftly dissuaded him from his initial idea of simply stealing the weapon.
‘Who are you? We ain’t seen you before.’
The child looked up and down the road before answering.
‘I’m Lupus. I live with the soldiers in there.’
‘Lupus? What kind of stupid fucking name is th-’
The boy was quicker than his inquisitor expected, drawing the sword and taking guard in a way that put the blade’s edge within an inch or so of the urchin’s neck.
‘My name. Have you got one, or did your mother not bother?’
His inquisitor danced back with a look of alarm.
‘I’m Julius! And there’s no need for the sword!’
Lupus grinned at him, slotting the blade back into its scabbard.
‘Maybe not, Julius, but now we all know where we stand. Arminius always says that-’
‘Who’s Arminius?’
‘My fighting teacher. He’s German.’
The children, who had gathered round him with looks of bemusement, stared at each other in further disbelief, and another of them, a boy with a long scar across his cheek, piped up in a disbelieving note.
‘You ain’t got no fighting teacher! You’re making it up!’
Lupus simply grinned, waving a hand back at the barracks behind him.
‘Want to see me training with him?’
Julius shook his head.
‘We’ll never get in here. That’s army ground. If we even try to get in we’ll just get a good hiding and then be kicked out.’
Lupus shrugged.
‘I can get you inside, if you’re not too scared to come with me.’
They stared at him in collective uncertainty for a moment, and then one of the smaller children stepped forward, pushing Julius aside. It was obvious that they were brothers, although where the older child had the look of a bruiser in the making, the younger had more of a sly look about him.
‘Why?’
Lupus frowned at the question.
‘Why what?’
‘Why would you want to get us inside?’
‘Because I’m bored! The only other children in our cohort are babies, and they’ve gone into the city. I’ve got no one to play with.’
‘Pla-’
The scar-faced child’s incredulous guffaw was cut off by a hard elbow in the ribs from the younger boy, something which to judge from the unmoving faces of the other children was nothing out of the ordinary.
‘Yeah, we’ll play with you. We love to play … But how do we get in there?’ He shot a meaningful glance at the gate guards. ‘It ain’t like those bastards are going to let us just stroll in, is it?’
Lupus nodded, leaning forward to whisper quietly.
‘Follow me. I know another way in.’
He walked away confidently, ignoring the risk that the children would mob him once they were safely away from the guards at the barrack’s gate, and their ringleader shook his head at his companions to deter just such an attempt, muttering a quiet command to them.
‘Not now. Later.’
On the south side of the barrack’s encircling wall he led them to a small doorway inside an arch set in the stonework.
‘I found this while I was exploring. It was bolted inside, but there’s no lock …’
Lupus swung the door open and went in through the gate, leaving the street children standing outside looking at each other. The small child pushed Julius towards the door.
‘Go on. If it’s safe we’ll follow you inside.’
The boy sidled up to the gateway and peered through it at the barracks buildings on the other side, taking a nervous step forward to the threshold, peering in to either side.
‘I can’t see anything.’
His brother stepped forward and swiftly thrust him through the gate.
‘Ah, you bastard Gaius!’
His outburst was met with a stony-faced stare, as his younger brother pointed a finger at the barracks behind him.
‘Stop fucking about and have a proper look!’
The child walked slowly forward three paces, staring about him wildly as he regained his equilibrium. Nothing moved, other than Lupus who raised an arm to point at the barracks.
‘Half of them are empty! We could play hide and seek …’
Gaius walked through the gate, looking around as if he could hardly believe what he was seeing, and the remaining children followed him into the enclosed space.
‘We could play hide and seek, but I’d rather play at looking round this place. There must be plenty of stuff we could sell back in the city, and-’
The gate slammed shut behind him, and the children whirled to find a huge bearded centurion standing behind them with his back against the wooden door.
‘Get them!’
A dozen men sprang from the cover of the barracks to either side, their arms outstretched to prevent any of the children from escaping into the maze of buildings, but rather than looking to escape, Gaius shrugged his shoulders and waited meekly for the soldier to take him by the arm.
‘Not going to run, little man?’
The child shook his head, grimacing up at the soldier.
‘Nah. If you wanted to hurt us you’d have your knives or your cocks out by now, so I figure you want something from us. So let’s talk, eh?’
‘There’s no demand for it I’m afraid. We get the odd German asking for it, but I can’t make a living selling that foul muck and it doesn’t keep for long either, not like wine. What’s wrong with a good honest cup of Iberian, that’s what I want to know?’
Marcus nodded his agreement, putting down enough coin for a flask of the good falernian that the tavern owner kept under the counter, and ushered a still-fuming Dubnus to the table to which Qadir had already laid claim. The establishment’s working women, whose instincts for silver were clearly well honed, had swiftly surrounded the Tungrians on their arrival, but then equally quickly worked out that the three centurions weren’t looking for the particular services they were offering. Dubnus poured three cups of wine, raising his own in a weary salute before sipping at it in a disconsolate manner.
‘Bloody wine. It’s all very well for you lot that grew up with the stuff, but it gives me a foul headache. Where can a man get a beer in this city, that’s what I want to know?’
‘You had a beer the other night, and spat it out onto the floor. Remember?’
The big man nodded, pulling a disgusted face.
‘Do I? I could never have imagined that it was possible to ferment a brew that I wouldn’t enjoy, but this place just keeps on coming up with new ways to piss me off. What was it called?’
‘Cerevisia. It’s a Gaulish recipe, I believe.’
Dubnus shuddered.
‘Well it was just wrong. I won’t get a decent drink until we’re back in Britannia, that’s obvious.’