'The great general is leading an army to Jerusalem. I'm told the booty will be good.'
'So all the new recruits say.' The centurion scratched short grey stubble, looking Brennus up and down shrewdly. 'You're not escaped slaves?'
'No, sir.' The Gaul kept a blank face, Romulus copying him. Aping the Roman military cut, both men had cut their hair short that morning.
'Slaves are forbidden to join the military under any circumstances. It is a crime punishable by death. Understand?'
'We are free men, sir.'
The officer grunted, considering the tally on the calfskin parchment before him. 'And the lad?'
'Fights better than most grown men, sir.'
'Does he, by Jupiter?'
'Taught him myself, sir.'
'A bit young, but I suppose he's as big as most.' The centurion pushed forward a stylus. 'You enlist for three years minimum. Stay with the army for twenty and you'll be granted Roman citizenship. The pay is a hundred denarii per year in equal instalments every four months. Depending on the situation.'
'Situation, sir?' Romulus spoke for the first time, affecting Brennus' thick accent as best he could.
'If we're in the middle of a damn war, you don't get paid!'
'A hundred denarii?' Romulus turned to his friend with disbelief. The purse from Pompey alone had contained five times that amount.
Brennus frowned.
The centurion laughed, misinterpreting the remark. 'A lot of money,' he said. 'Crassus' son Publius is a generous man. He wants the finest infantry to fight beside his cavalry.'
Romulus grinned vacuously as if he had only just understood. After all, they weren't joining Crassus' army for the wages.
'You provide your own clothes and weapons. Costs for equipment, food and the burial club get deducted from pay. And when I tell you to do something, do it fast! Otherwise you'll feel this across your backs.' He slapped a vine cane on the sacks of flour. 'I command the cohort, but I'm also your centurion! Clear?'
They nodded.
The officer tapped the parchment with a gnarled forefinger. 'Put your marks here.'
The pair exchanged a long glance. Once they joined, there was no going back. With a shrug, Brennus picked up the stylus in his huge hand and marked the document. Romulus followed suit.
'Good!' The centurion smiled briefly. 'I'm putting you both under my direct command. Names?'
'Brennus, sir. This is Romulus.'
'Romulus?' he said with interest. 'A good Italian name. Who was your father?'
'Roman legionary, sir.' Romulus couldn't think of anything else to say. 'Mother wanted to honour his memory.'
'There is a Roman look to you. Should have a warrior's mettle too.' He seemed pleased. 'Call me Senior Centurion Bassius. Wait over there with the rest of the cohort.'
'When do we set sail, Senior Centurion?'
'Tonight. The general's keen to start the campaign immediately.'
Romulus stared at Brundisium, now barely visible through the orangeyellow haze. It was nearly sunset, and the sea had changed from bright blue to a deep navy. A gentle breeze was propelling the Roman fleet away from shore. Other triremes could be made out in the failing light, companions to the one they had embarked on. Dozens of long wooden oars made a smooth sound as they moved in unison to cut the water's surface.
The Achilles was a typical low-slung Roman ship with a single cloth sail, three banks of oars and a bronze ram at the prow. The decks were bare except for the captain's cabin at the stern and catapults for attacking enemy ships.
'Good riddance!' Brennus spat over the timbers of the side. 'The bastards won't find us now.'
'When can we return to Italy?'
'A few years. Murder of a noble takes a while to be forgotten.'
Romulus scowled at that prospect. Thoughts of his family, Caelius and Julia had filled his mind on their march south, but he would have to put all such thoughts to one side. It would serve little purpose to spend his time worrying about situations that were now so completely out of his control.
'We should have stayed in the ludus that night.'
'Maybe we should.' Brennus looked east, his eyes distant. 'But the gods meant this to happen. I feel it in my bones.'
Romulus followed his gaze. The horizon was formed by the darkening sky's junction with the black sea, making it impossible to see where they met. Beyond lay the unknown, a world Romulus had thought he would never see. But anything seemed possible now.
He came back to the present with a shiver. 'What will happen to Astoria?'
The Gaul's face grew sad. 'Sextus has promised to protect her and if the gods are merciful, we will meet again. But I cannot avoid my destiny. We had no choice but to run and Astoria knows that.' Their farewell had been all too brief and when Brennus had tried to stay longer, the Nubian had kissed him softly and pushed him out the door. Astoria knew how much Ultan's words meant to her lover. Follow your destiny, she had whispered.
Brennus sighed heavily.
Romulus knew how he felt.
The consequences of the fight had been devastating for both. Brennus' life as a champion gladiator was over, his woman lost. Romulus was wanted for murder and both were fugitives from justice. Unless Astoria managed to get his message through, Julia would have presumed the worst of him for not showing up. Romulus' plans for a slave rebellion were dust, and although he was free it seemed even more unlikely that he would ever see his family again, let alone rescue them. Instead he was sailing into the east, a soldier in Crassus' army.
That meant Gemellus would go unpunished.
He scowled at the chance train of events that had led them to be sitting on Achilles' deck. If only they had not left the ludus. If only they had not stopped outside the Lupanar. If only he had not killed a noble.
But he had.
Romulus took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Like Brennus, he would have to place his trust in the gods. In Jupiter, Greatest and Best. He alone could alter the situation now.
'Reef the sail!' The second in command, an experienced optio, bellowed at the nearest crew. Roman ships never used sails at night, relying instead on the power of the oars.
The sailors obeyed rapidly, pulling on halyards that gathered the heavy cloth against the crossbar of the mast. When it had been furled to his satisfaction, the optio paced Achilles' sun-bleached deck, ensuring the catapults had been lashed down and all loose pieces of equipment tidied away.
Low thudding from the drum reached them through the timbers underfoot. Its speed determined how fast the oarsmen had to row. Driven by curiosity, Romulus had already explored the cramped soldiers' quarters on the armoury deck and the claustrophobic space below that where slaves sat chained to benches. He shuddered at the thought of permanent confinement in the hot, stale air breathed by two hundred others. Men on the oars were fed far more than the soldiers would receive daily, but that was little compensation. Most were criminals or prisoners of war who would serve below until they died. And it was not unheard of for ordinary slaves to be sent to the galleys as punishment.
The freedom Romulus had begun to enjoy suddenly felt quite fragile.
'Nobody will find us, will they?' he whispered to Brennus.
Smiling, the Gaul threw a massive arm round his shoulders. 'We 're in the legions now. As long as we can fight, no one gives a damn.'
Romulus glanced across at their new commander who was talking to a fellow centurion and the captain of Achilles. He had taken an instant liking to Bassius, whose composed manner was rubbing off on the new recruits. Few seemed to be warriors, but they appeared happy enough sitting on the gently moving deck. It was not surprising that the old officer had picked both him and Brennus for his unit. The two centuries on the trireme, one hundred and sixty men, were mostly Gaulish farmers, dressed in worn tunics and trousers and armed with an assortment of longswords, spears and daggers. The rest of Bassius' cohort he had seen embarking at the port were similar in appearance. The centurion's relaxed attitude to their status was more clear now. Apart from the sailors, the gladiators were almost the only warlike ones on board.