The Leopard Vanguard (Leopard King Saga Book 1) Page 3

  Senator Remus reluctantly raised his head from his breakfast while Eliana was still chatting with Sylvia. In the background their mother was still tending to her arboretum while two slaves now assisted her. “Tell our guest that I am still eating and he can wait in the entrance hall,” Remus said.

  The slave said: “I’m terribly sorry Senator, but I’m afraid he insists on meeting with you at once.”

  Senator Remus swallowed a thick black olive and stood up. Eliana turned away from Sylvia and said: “Don’t worry father, we’ll make sure your food is still fresh and waiting for you when you return.”

  “That’s quite alright my beauty; I seem to have lost my appetite.” Remus wiped his mouth on a napkin before ambling out of the dining room to greet his visitor.

  Norbanus despised waiting on others, even if the man he waited on was the esteemed Senator Remus. Since he was an only child he was accustomed to getting what he wanted quickly. Perhaps that was why patience was not one of his finer traits. No matter. The message he carried was one of vital importance and couldn’t wait. And if the Senator’s breakfast was cut short, so be it. While he waited in the entrance hall a slave offered him wine but he declined. Finally, the Senator arrived.

  “I told you never to come to my house unless I summoned you,” Senator Remus said. Norbanus despised the Senator’s patronizing tone but said nothing. Instead he clenched his fists tightly. The things I must endure to clear my family name, Norbanus thought. “My apologies Senator, but I’d thought you’d like to know Camus Scorpio spotted the old man.”

  Remus suddenly appeared interested in what Norbanus’ words. “After all these years? Where?”

  “Near the marketplace stalls in the Forum; the old man was purchasing supplies. He was alone.”

  “Interesting. Did Scorpio have him followed?” Remus asked. They sauntered out of the entrance hall and moved into the Senator’s study.

  “No, but one of Scorpio’s men spoke to the merchant the old man did business with. It appears that once a week he returns to the marketplace to purchase supplies. I say we have Scorpio capture and torture him next time so we can find out where he hid the gold. Because of that old fool my good family name has been tainted for over twenty years.”

  Remus stroked his chin with his ring-laden fingers. “Decrius was my childhood friend, and I too wish to see his name cleared.”

  Norbanus sniggered. “Or could it be my dear Senator, you wish to present our Emperor with the gold and its secret contents?”

  Remus’ eyes glared at Norbanus. “You would do well to remember your manners in my estate, Tribune. But, we must be patient and tread carefully, if it is discovered that we are in league with Scorpio all could be lost.”

  Three days later the banquet took place at Senator Remus’s villa. Guests from all walks of Roman society were in attendance: Senators, prominent merchants and a vast array of notable patricians made their way past the entranceway which was decorated with orchids that smelled as sweet as honey. Tullus duly arrived alongside Norbanus and Decimus. He felt out of place here and hoped to steal a moment later with Norbanus to make up an excuse to leave the party–unfinished business back at the barracks, or some other fabrication. His fellow guardsman, Decimus, looked pleased to have been invited to such an extravagant event—no doubt because of the plentiful supply of wine that was on offer. Tullus couldn’t make out Norbanus’ demeanor–few men could. The Tribune appeared glacial as always. Despite owing his current post to Norbanus, Tullus was always on guard around the Tribune. Was it lack of trust? Perhaps. But in the year that Tullus had known Norbanus one thing he knew about the Tribune was that seldom did he partake in something unless he stood to gain something from it.

  Across from where Tullus stood a young blonde woman with braided hair lay on an ornate couch with a curved headboard, feeding grapes to a corpulent white-haired man with a grey beard, while in front of them, on a large table, sat large silver platters of oysters, prawns, mussels and roasted eels. Next to the seafood platter a slave tended to a spit of roasted crane and offered samples to guests. The smell of the food caressed Tullus’ nostrils and stirred his appetite.

  “You seem troubled, Centurion,” Norbanus said. The three men were greeted by slaves carrying wine flagons and goblets. Decimus eagerly passed the goblets over to Tullus and Norbanus before the slaves poured them wine.

  “The Centurion needs a little wine in him, Tribune, that’s all,” Decimus said before draining his goblet.

  “Yes that’s it,” Tullus said. He sipped his wine. Having worked in his father’s wine fields when he was a boy he easily recognized the vintage, Falernum, from the slopes of Mount Falernus, the preferred wine of the patrician class.

  Norbanus smiled. “Perhaps a woman would ease your troubles Tullus. Many fine ladies are in attendance here. Now if you’d excuse me, I must greet our host, Senator Remus.”Norbanus moved off into the crowd leaving Tullus and Decimus with the wine slave who was busy refilling Decimus’ goblet.

  “Better than the fermented piss we drank back in Syria, ehh Tullus?”

  “Be careful not to drink too much, old friend. You wouldn’t want to make a bad showing wearing a Praetorian Guard tunic, would you?”

  “Right you are Centurion.” Decimus handed his goblet to Tullus and took the wine flagon from the surprised slave. “I have my drinking reputation to defend amongst these fine patricians.” Taking another mouthful of wine, Decimus followed Norbanus’ lead, disappearing into the crowd, leaving Tullus alone with his thoughts.

  Perhaps it was better that he was alone, knowing how bawdy Decimus could be after ingesting too much alcohol. He handed over the wine goblets to the slave before making his rounds around the room, nodding politely to the other guests he made eye contact with. The walls of Senator Remus’s villa were decorated with rich tapestries brought from the farthest reaches of the Empire. He stopped to admire them.

  “Much work went into the weaving of those tapestries,” said a woman’s voice.

  Tullus turned around and was greeted by a young woman in a crimson gown. Her proud eyes sparkled as they eyed Tullus. Around her arm she wore an expensive gold armlet fashioned in the shape of a stag which radiated under the fierce lights of the oil lamps.

  Tullus’ heart leaped in his chest under the watchful eyes of the young beauty. “It would appear so, dear lady,” he said.

  “Welcome to my home, and please, call me Eliana.”

  Tullus bowed his head respectfully at Eliana and she giggled appreciatively.

  “I am Tullus Acilius Ulixes, a Centurion of the Praetorian Guard.”

  “I am Eliana Clodia.”

  Tullus nodded. “Yes, the Senator’s daughter.”

  “His younger daughter, yes, as I am often reminded of it.”

  “Youth is nothing to scoff at,” Tullus said, “I often wish I was your age again.”

  Eliana laughed. “You make it sound as if you are an old man Tullus.”

  “I’m thirty-five,” Tullus began, “and sometimes I feel like an old man. I’ve seen way too much death and destruction in my life, perhaps the life of a soldier has worn thin on my soul. I sometimes dream of a home where I can live without the troubles of a Roman Centurion.”

  “And where is home?” Eliana asked.

  “For the past few years it was Syria; I was stationed there in the 3rd Legion. But as a boy I was raised northwest of Rome along the eastern frontier, bordering Gaul. My father was a winemaker there.”

  After strolling through the atrium they reached an indoor colonnaded garden situated inside the villa. Eliana explained to Tullus her mother’s passion for flowers while he marveled at the impressive collection of orchids, roses, and crocus’s. Their red, yellow and violet colors produced a translucent image under the golden lights of the oil lamps affixed to the colonnades.

  After returning to the banquet they found a marble bench in the corner of the room. It was quiet there, away from the noise of the other guests. Tullus enjoyed El
iana’s company and felt comfortable around her; she appeared wise beyond her years, no doubt the result of having been schooled by the finest tutors in Rome. He often wondered what his life would be like if his parents hadn’t been killed by Gauls, if Decimus hadn’t found him: a frightened boy cowering in the dark corner of his parents ransacked winery. After his rescue, Decimus had continued his education by teaching him how to read and write: resulting in Tullus’ rapid advancement through the legionary ranks.

  “Where are your parents now?” Eliana asked.

  “Dead.” The faces of his parents, butchered by the Gauls appeared before Tullus’ eyes. Their lifeless bodies mangled, and caked with blood. To make matters worse his younger brother had also disappeared that day. It was all my fault. Tullus buried the painful thought. “My family since then has been the legions…and Decimus. He taught me everything I know; I owe a great debt to him.”

  Eliana looked disconcerted. “I’m sorry about your family.”

  “So am I,” Tullus said. “But, that is in the past; I must make a new life for myself in Rome.”

  A flutter of laughter erupted from the atrium and Tullus noticed a large group of guests congregating toward the source of the excitement.

  “Come Tullus, it must be the start of the entertainment.” Eliana took Tullus’ hand and led him through the crowd. They eased their way through the crowd until they found themselves closer to the performance. There, a performer wearing an ivory mask was entertaining guests.

  “What is this?” Tullus asked Eliana.

  “Its pantomime. You mean you haven’t heard of it?”

  “Well of course I’ve heard of it,” Tullus said, “but in the Legions we don’t get to see such performances.”

  “Look!” Eliana said. “The pantomime is telling the story of Rome’s founding by Romulus and Remus.”

  Tullus knew the mythical story of course, every Roman did. Decimus had explained it to him years ago, when he was a boy. In it the twin brothers Romulus and Remus couldn’t decide where to build the city of Rome. Romulus wanted to build the city on the Palantine hill while Remus preferred the Aventine. In the disputes that followed Romulus murdered Remus and named the new city Rome before creating the Roman Legions and Senate.

  Looking at Eliana, Tullus noticed the intrigue in her eyes as she observed the pantomime mimicking the murder of Remus. In the corner of his eye Tullus spotted Tribune Norbanus next to Senator Remus Clodius. He nodded at Norbanus who returned the gesture. That strange feeling pervaded Tullus’ senses again, the feeling of distrust for Norbanus. But why? The man had done him a great honor by appointing him to the Praetorian Guard, yet something still didn’t feel right. And something about Norbanus in the presence of the Senator strengthened his suspicion. Tullus shrugged off his discontent; perhaps a little wine would calm his nerves. Norbanus and Senator Remus Clodius strolled away from the performance and Tullus turned his attention back to the pantomime.

  “Having a splendid time Centurion?” Tullus turned around to see Decimus standing behind him. He was still grasping a wine flagon and nearly stumbled on his way over toward Tullus. Decimus dropped the flagon and saluted Tullus. “Decimus Axius, Praetorian Guardsman of the first cohort reporting for duty sir.”

  Tullus grabbed his friend by the arm and ushered him away from the performance. Eliana cast him a worried glance before Tullus found a bench for Decimus to sit on.

  “I see you’ve been busy.”

  “Why yes, I do believe the vintage here is to my liking Centurion,” Decimus replied. His breath reeked of wine and onions. Decimus blinked sleepily before turning around and vomiting behind the bench. The vomit’s stench soured Tullus’ stomach before Eliana conveniently appeared with two slaves, who trailed her like faithful hounds.

  “Can I be of assistance?”

  “Why yes,” Tullus said. He remained placid despite his embarrassment at Decimus’ condition. “Eliana, allow me to introduce my dear friend Decimus.”

  Decimus nodded and extended his hand to Eliana which she shook. “A pleasure my lady.”

  One of the slaves, noticing the vomit, rushed off to fetch a bucket of water. Soon the vomit was cleansed from the marble floors and the stench abated.

  “I believe we must be leaving, Eliana,” Tullus said. He lifted Decimus from the bench and gripped his friend by the shoulder while grasping Decimus’ arm and placing it over his own shoulder to offer support.

  “So soon? The deserts haven’t even been brought out yet.”

  “It appears my friend is in no condition to ingest anything.”

  “He can rest in one of our guestrooms.”

  “That’s a generous offer but our commanding officer is here,” Tullus said. “I would rather leave before he notices my friend in this condition. Decimus was half conscious as they left the party surreptitiously through the rear entrance of the villa which Eliana had led them through. Immerging outside the villa, Tullus felt relieved as he breathed in the cool night air.

  “I enjoyed our talk Eliana.” Tullus gripped Decimus by the waist to keep him upright while his friend’s arm remained draped over his shoulder. “I bid you goodnight.”

  Eliana nodded. “Perhaps we shall have another opportunity to talk again sometime?”

  “Of course, provided I get Decimus home without receiving a reprimand.” Under the moonlight, Tullus slowly made his way back toward the Praetorian barracks while Eliana watched them disappear into the night.

  {III}

  The next morning Tullus awoke to the sound of a crow cawing. He realized, much to his dismay that it was well past sunrise. Cursing himself, he figured if he was expedient enough he might grab a smidgen of breakfast from the pantry. A fierce knocking rattled his door while he hastily donned his Guardsman tunic. “Enter,” Tullus grumbled as he fumbled with his military belt.

  The door creaked open and Tribune Norbanus strutted in wearing the beige toga of a Praetorian Tribune. His cleanly shaven face highlighted his handsome features, while his oily

  black hair glimmered under the sunshine trickling through Tullus’ window shutters. Tullus wasn’t expecting Norbanus and wondered what had brought him here since it was not like the Tribune to make a personal visit. Usually his aide was sent to relay information. Tullus straightened himself and saluted Norbanus.

  “As you were, Centurion.”

  Tullus finished dressing. “How may I serve, Tribune?”

  “Let us sit down, shall we?” Norbanus said. They both took seats at a wooden table.

  “Can I offer you a drink of mulsum?”

  Norbanus nodded while Tullus poured him the wine mixed with honey. Tullus poured himself a cup before lifting it in a toast. “To the Praetorian Guard.”

  Norbanus grinned and swallowed his mulsum. “I didn’t see you at breakfast this morning Centurion, is there a problem?”

  “Apologies, I feel I overate last night.”

  “Yes, Senator Remus’s banquets are often lavish with exquisite dishes. No matter, your absence this morning is understandable.” Norbanus paused a moment before continuing. “You are probably wondering why I am here.”

  “That thought did cross my mind.”

  Norbanus drained his cup and thrust it forward; Tullus poured the Tribune another cup.

  “It is regarding a mission of utmost importance; one which requires my best men. Naturally you were at the top of my list…you did, after all, save my life during the Parthian campaign.”

  Tullus stared into the cunning eyes of his superior. What does he want? “Yes, of course, it was an honor.”

  “Centurion, March is upon us and there is a growing contingent who feel change is necessary,” Norbanus said before swallowing a mouthful of mulsum.

  Us? “I’m not sure I understand Tribune.”

  “Our Emperor, Tiberius,” Norbanus began, “is old, and a few of us in the Empire feel we need new leadership to steer us in a new direction. Our beloved Prefect, Macro, feels the same.”

  Naevi
us Sutorius Macro. The name caused Tullus to bristle. Macro was the ruthless Praetorian Prefect and one of the most powerful men in the Roman Empire. If he was involved in Norbanus’ plans then surely something dangerous was afoot.

  “I see,” Tullus said. He felt Norbanus’ stern gaze upon him.

  “We are going to Misenum, Centurion. You, me, Prefect Macro and an assortment of trusted Guardsman…plus, Tiberius’ oldest heir.”

  “Caligula?”

  “Yes, I see you are familiar with the Prince’s nickname.”

  Tullus knew of Caligula. Every soldier did. Caligula meant “Little Boots.” The Prince had obtained the nickname because of the miniature sandals and legionary kit he wore as a child while accompanying his legendary father, Germanicus, on military campaigns.

  “When do we leave for Misenum?” Tullus asked. Norbanus stood up from his chair.

  “In three days. But before we embark, I have arranged for you to meet the Prince so he can gauge your character. I told him that I handpicked you for this assignment and that you are the finest Centurion to ever serve in the 3rd Legion.”

  “You honor me Tribune.”

  “Yes, well, as you have never met his majesty, I might as well tell you now…the Prince is a little…different.”

  Tullus nodded, although he knew not what Norbanus meant.

  “I’m sure you are a bit overwhelmed by all that we’ve discussed, Tullus. Be assured that everything will work out for the best and that brighter days are on the horizon for us all. Ohh, and one last thing, share this information with no one. I will have my aid summon you to meet the Prince before the end of the day.”

  After Norbanus left, Tullus sat down on his bed, his head swarming with questions.

  {IV}

  Tullus was making his rounds through the imperial palace when he ran into Decimus. “Tullus, I didn’t see you at breakfast this morning…is everything alright?”

  “You will address me as Centurion,” bickered Tullus, “or have you forgotten my rank?”