War Raven: Barbarian of Rome Chronicles Volume One (19 page)

“What are your women like?” Chayna eagerly asked.

“They are tall and strong, and their word is valued in counsel. Some have a special gift for seeing the future and are respected for it. To falsely shame one of our women is to suffer death.”

“Have you known many women?” she enquired, smiling coyly.

“As the son of a war-chief it wasn’t unusual for women to seek my company,” he replied casually. “Our women give their affections freely, and I’ve never been with a woman who wasn’t more than willing.”

“And what about marriage?”

“German women bond with one partner for the whole of their lives and infidelity is punished harshly.”

Encouraged by his openness, Chayna ventured, “Can I ask you a question about the
ludus
?”

“If you wish.”

“Is it true that the schools regularly supply slave women for their men to use as they wish?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “For some women it is a thirst that they eagerly quench, and do not complain. Others come because they have no choice, and a few are not treated...” He frowned, moving on. “There are noblewomen too, who come to satisfy their desire for gladiator flesh.”

“Truly?” Chayna queried, shocked. “The wives of our noble masters lie with gladiators?”

“Truly, yes,” Guntram began, and then after with a sneer. “They keep them like apes on a chain – for entertainment. And when they tire of them, or when their husbands suspect there is some truth in the whispers – a gladiator muted with a hot iron fights just as well.”

Chayna raised her clenched fists to her mouth.

“To sleep with women against their will or with those rich enough to pay has never been to my taste,” said Guntram, “and never will.”

“I am glad,” Chayna responded, unable to keep the relief out of her voice.

Guntram smiled briefly in return, before enquiring. “You say your father was a Judean. What became of him?”

Her voice was sad when she answered. “One day he was returning from the Great Temple in Jerusalem, and was caught up in trouble involving the Zealots and the soldiers of our Roman rulers.”

“Zealots?” queried Guntram.

“Rebels who’ve sworn to free our land at any price. They are fighters.”

“I like the sound of these Zealots.” Guntram grunted his approval. “Go on...”

“Years later, when I was old enough to understand, my mother told me that my father was struck on the head by a soldier and arrested. That night my mother received news that he’d died of his injuries in the Roman prison.” Tears welled to her eyes, the retelling painful. “Friends brought my father’s body home for burial, and he’d been tortured badly. My mother cried, remembering...the only time I ever saw her cry.” She swallowed hard. “The soldiers arrested her shortly afterwards, saying that she was the wife of a rebel against Rome, and found guilty, she was transported here and sold at auction. She never saw our home again...and the rest you know.”

“No wonder you were sickened when you discovered what I did...when you
saw...”
proffered Guntram.

“I didn’t know you then. Never knew that you took no pleasure from it...that you only pretended for the crowd.”

“It seems we share a hatred of Rome,” Guntram stated, his mouth tightly set.

“I don’t hate Rome, Guntram,” Chayna’s denial poured out, “because it would only wither me inside. I place my trust in Jehovah and he gives me the strength to go on.”

“Who is Jehovah?” Guntram asked.

“He is my God...the living, true God.”

“Is he strong?”

“Yes, he’s strong, and his love for us is strong too,” Chayna replied, her face alight. “We are his chosen people and he will never forsake us. A day will come when he will send us a Messiah, a saviour who’ll free us from the yoke of Rome. This is what my people believe...What I believe.”

She saw that Guntram was frowning again. “What do you believe in?” she asked.

“Freedom and just revenge,” he spat out the words. “Freedom for myself and my people, and revenge against the Roman dog who ordered the death of my family and village.”

“And how will you get your revenge?”

There was a strained pause.

Guntram’s face was like stone.
So much bitterness
, she thought,
and in one so young
.

“When I win my freedom, I will find this Roman who wronged me, and I will make him tell me what he knows about the whereabouts of my brother and friend who were taken from my village. If they are slaves I will buy them back. Or free them. Then return with them to my home and join with my brothers who remain free.” His eyes were pitiless, his words cold, like dead fish when he vowed, “Rome will pay in blood for the lives it has taken.”

“Guntram, blood cannot cleanse blood.” Chayna placed her hand on his. “Please don’t let this thing eat you away. On such a path, how will you know when to stop? How much blood will be enough?”

“My family was raped and butchered, and then burnt like cattle.” She felt his fist clench under her fingers. “The memory of what Rome did never leaves me. I see the bright blood, hear the screams and smell the sweet stench of roasting flesh like swine on the spit. I picture the face of the Roman who ordered it, and I know what I must do. Chayna, these things are carved into my soul and cannot be put aside like old clothes. Peace for me will only come when this man is dead and Germania is free of all that is Roman.”

Chayna flinched as she listened.
Can’t you understand
, she thought,
that revenge cannot be eaten like bread to ease hunger. That it’s like the small fish that play in the shallows – the harder you try to catch them the further they swim away.

“Still, you’ve talked about other fine hopes for the future,” she reminded him.

“Those things are important to me,” he confirmed, some of the anger leaving his face. “I also dream that one day my people will be united in a single, strong nation – no longer splintered and weak. Dreaming of this alone won’t make it happen, and I intend to play my part. Afterwards, there will be a time for family, for rebuilding and the discovery of new things in a free land.”

“And what of your brother?”

“I think about him often, and pray that no harm has come to him. But, he is only a boy, and far away. And I am still a slave.”

Plucking up her courage, Chayna asked what she suspected, “Is the other you seek a woman?”

“Yes.”

“I see.” Meeting his look, she forced out the words. “Do you love her very much?”

He spoke into the hush. “I’ll not deceive you. This woman was special to me, and I’ve sworn to try to find her. Yet, I’m not the man I was a year ago.” He thumbed his eye- brow, looking uncomfortable. “My path has shaped me into something different, and my feelings for this woman are different too, and it’s something that I’m beleaguered by. I know that here, with you, feels good...feels right for me.” He gave a great sigh. “There is nothing more I can say.”

“I want you to know, too, that I’ve never felt as happy as I do now,” Chayna said, blushing. Seeing the frown lift from his brow, she added, “And I pray that one day you’ll find those you seek.”

“It will not be an easy task,” he said, “as so much time has passed and the Empire is vast.”

“There is hope, Guntram, always hope.”

“Yes, there is,” Guntram agreed, and then taking a deep breath. “But, to find them...I must first be free.”

A thoughtful silence settled on them. Chayna then managed to divert their talk to less serious matters; such as gossip about local magistrates and other trifling topics associated with the daily running of the city.

The afternoon passed quickly, too quickly. Guntram eventually hinted that they should return to the city. although Chayna sensed that he was reluctant to leave. His whole bearing hinted that he wished to speak about something, but felt uncomfortable to do so.

“You look troubled Guntram. Haven’t you enjoyed today?” she asked, prompting him to speak. “Because I have, more than I can remember.”

“Would you see me again, Chayna?”

“Yes, I’d like that very much,” Chayna replied. “But what about Fagus?”

“There’ll be no problem with him,” Guntram replied with a dry smile.

* * *

Chapter XXII

FLAME

“Bear patiently, heart – for

you have suffered heavy things.”

Homer

Brushing the wood chips from the table, Guntram took a sip from his wine cup. He turned back to the small carving. The heavy dagger he’d used was not ideal for such a task, and he’d promised himself to one day purchase a more suitable blade. The carving always helped him relax, and the Falerian helped too.

Pursing his lips he made a final few cuts. He held up the carving, examining his handiwork.
Not bad
, he thought.

Looking past the carving he saw someone rise from a nearby table, also set in the shade of the forum’s portico, and then head towards him.

It was a young boy, finely dressed. A sturdy looking

individual shadowed the boy, a few steps behind. A slight

bulge under the man’s light cloak hinted at a concealed knife or short sword, and he had a watchful look about him. Guntram guessed he was the boy’s bodyguard.

“Good day,” said the boy.

Guntram tipped his head in response.

“Could I enquire what you are carving?” the boy asked.

Something about the boy’s polite tone and disarming smile stirred Guntram. Despite the different colouring, his age, the wide mouth and trusting eyes were the same. His stomach clutched tight, realizing that he reminded him of Strom.

“Is it a bird” the boy asked, pointing at the carving.

“It’s a Raven,” Guntram told him.

“I thought it might be an eagle,” the boy ventured, “the emblem of the legions.”

“Not an eagle,” Guntram answered tightly. He saw the boy flinch at his tone. He continued less sternly. “It’s a War Raven, the emblem of Woden, the king of my Gods. It stands for strength and good fortune in Germania.”

“Then you are Caetes the champion!” the boy exclaimed, his smile returning. “See!” excited, the boy turned to his bodyguard. “I told you it was him, Titus.”

A smile crept to Guntram’s mouth.

“What’s your name lad?”

“Clodian. And my father is Gaius Caecilius, the magistrate,” he replied proudly.

“How old are you Clodian?”

“Eleven.”

“You’re tall for your age.”

“Thank you.” Clodian’s face beamed. “My father tells me that you defeated the Capuan champion, and that he was very dangerous.” A small frown appeared. “Were you afraid?”

“A little, always a little,” said Guntram. “It keeps me alive.”

“Really?” said the boy, surprised. “My father says that one day you will be a great champion, like Carpophorus the
venator
.”

“And you believe him?”

“Yes. I trust my father, and he wouldn’t lie to me.”

“Then who am I to disagree?”

Serious, the boy asked, “Are you making fun of me?”

“Just a bit lad,” Guntram reached out and placed his hand gently on the boy’s shoulder and his smile returned. He saw the bodyguard step closer, wary. “It’s good that you trust your father, because he is your blood. Always remember that there’s nothing stronger or more important than the bond of blood.”

“I will.” Clodian tilted his head to the side, as though puzzled. “You stare at me, as if you know me.”

“You remind me of someone. Very much.”

“Your son?”

“My brother.”

“Is he a great warrior like you Caetes?”

“His talents are very different,” Guntram answered, suddenly sad. “He is special in his own way. He’s clever, and enjoys talking with people. Like you.”

Encouraged, the boy asked, “What’s his name?”

“Strom.”

“I’ve never heard this name, but I like its sound.”

“It’s German, meaning ‘gentle water’”

“I see,” said the boy, looking thoughtful. “Perhaps I’ll meet him some day?”

“I doubt that lad, because,” Guntram struggled with the answer, before stating, “he’s far way.”

“I like you Caetes, and wish you good luck in your next fight. But, it’s sad that I won’t meet Strom. We could have been friends.”

The likeness hurting, Guntram knew it was time to leave. He stood up from his table, towering over the boy. Taking Clodian’s hand, he placed the small carving in the palm. The boy’s face arched wide, surprised.

Tousling the young Roman’s hair, Guntram stepped past him and away.

*

Chayna flitted from corner to corner, her face glowing like a child as she voiced aloud what changes could be made to the small room: a drape for the window, a pot of sun flowers for the small table, the list went on. Guntram smiled at her from the doorway, looking amused.

After their first day together outside the city there had been regular meetings and even another day on the mountain. Chayna had enjoyed every minute they had spent together. When she’d been preparing to leave the inn to meet Guntram, Fagus had given her sour looks but had said not a word. She was not surprised. Today was the first time Guntram had brought her to his lodgings despite her constant nagging to see it.

“It’s small, but clean, and no bugs, no lice,” Guntram said, when Chayna finally settled on the edge of the bed.

“It’s lovely.” Chayna’s voice was almost a whisper.

Guntram walked slowly towards her. He placed his hands gently on her shoulders and coaxed her to her feet. His mouth touched her hair and she felt herself tremble.

“Chayna...” His voice was hoarse with feeling. “I’ve –”

“I know,” Chayna said, her hand lifting to his cheek.

He kissed her mouth, then her neck, his hands gliding to the sides of her hips.

Chayna crossed her arms and then slowly drew her tunic over her head. She stood naked before him. He drank in the firm mounds of her breasts, tipped with dark nipples, before his gaze dropped to her thighs and the black thatch of her mound. His arousal was obvious beneath his tunic, but she sensed that he was hesitant to touch her. Chayna snaked her hand beneath his loincloth to grip his swollen manhood. Guntram gasped.