Venator, p.1
Venator, page 1
VENATOR
roman equestrian i
a.m.swink
HISTORIUM PRESS
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FIRST EDITION
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Hardcover ISBN 978-1-962465-51-9
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A HISTORIUM PRESS NOVEL
https://www.thehistoricalfictioncompany.com/
Cover by White Rabbit Arts at
The Historical Fiction Company
For my Mother,
who has always believed in me
table of contents
Maps
Dramatis Personae
Pronunciation Guide
Part One Samos
I
II
III
IV
V
VI
VII
VIII
IX
X
XI
XII
XIII
XIV
XV
XVI
XVII
XVIII
XIX
XX
XXI
XXII
XXIII
XXIV
XXV
XXVI
Part Two Fogamur
XXVII
XXVIII
XXIX
XXX
XXXI
XXXII
XXXIII
XXXIV
XXXV
XXXVI
XXXVII
XXXVIII
XXXIX
XL
XLI
XLII
XLIII
XLIV
XLV
XLVI
XLVII
XLVIII
XLIX
L
LI
LII
Glossary
Historical Notes
Acknowledgments
About The Author
Maps
BRITANNIA
mid-1st century
virconium ca. Ad 57-85
Dramatis Personae
Romans
Leucus Decimus Maximus:
Primus Pilus, Legio XIIII Gemina
Publius Tullius Servius:
Optio to Centurion Decimus
Marcus Afranius Regulus:
Legate, Legio XIIII Gemina
Paulus Junius Fortunatus:
Second Spear, Legio XIIII Gemina
Gaius Octavius Corvus:
Camp Prefect, Legio XIIII Gemina
Publius Julianus Titianus:
Tribunus Laticlavius, Legio XIIII Gemina
Tiberius Claudius Tirintius:
Decurion, 1st Thracian Cavalry
Titus Flaminius:
Aquilifer, Legio XIIII Gemina
Bellius Plancus:
Signifer, 1st Cohort, Legio XIIII Gemina
Appius Rufinius Persius:
Centurion, 5th century, 1st
Cohort, Legio XIIII Gemina
Albus:
Centurion, 3rd Century, 1st
Cohort, Legio XIIII Gemina
Sextus:
Centurion, 4th Century, 1st
Cohort, Legio XIIII Gemina
Isidorus:
Tesserarius, 1st Century, 1st
Cohort, Legio XIIII Gemina
Gaius Suetonius Paulinus:
Imperial Governor of Britannia
Vulso, Valerius, Ponticus, Valentinus, Unimanus, Falto:
Legionaries, 1st Century, 1st
Cohort, Legio XIIII Gemina
Catullus:
Legionary Aide to Legate Regulus
Sextus Cincinnatus:
Pompous palace boy; favourite of Emperor Nero
Cato:
Personal slave of Centurion Decimus; a Gaul
Livius:
Personal slave of Tribune Titianus
Nicomedes:
Personal slave of Optio Servius; a Greek
Gaius Nerfinius:
A Latin tutor with dubious tastes
Aquila:
Personal mount of Centurion Decimus
Nero:
Personal mount of Optio Servius
Rhesus:
Personal mount of Decurion Tirintius
Britons
Luciana/Luigsech:
Princess of the Cornovii tribe
Timoteo/Tiernan:
Prince of the Cornovii tribe
Gruffydd:
Chieftain of the Cornovii tribe
Gwenfrewi:
Queen of the Cornovii tribe
Arthmael:
Chieftain of the Silure tribe
Morcant:
Son of Arthmael; prince of the Silure tribe
Catraoine:
Cornovii woman; friend of Gwenfrewi
Brocknus:
A skilled hunter; member of the Regni tribe
Belena:
Close friend and personal mount of Luciana
Carr and Tor:
Trained wolfhounds; property of Brocknus
In the Vicus
Cassia:
Prostitute; Decimus’s oldest friend; a Gaul
Charis:
Madam of Cassia’s brothel; a Greek
Bakari:
Proprietor of a wine shop; an Aegyptian
Cook:
Charis’s property; sees and hears everything
An Ex-Legionary:
Proprietor of The Aurochs
His Daughter:
A girl who finds herself in a troubling situation
Pronunciation Guide
Amyntas
AH-meen-tas
Aquila
ah-KEE-lah
Arthmael
ARTH-MAIL
Atrebates
ah-trey-bah-tez
Bakari
buh-kah-ree
Belena
buh-leh-nuh
Belgae
BEL-gih
Beltaine
buhl-TAYN
Brida
BREE-duh
Brigantes
bre-GAN-tez
Camulodunum
KAH-moo-lawd-oo-num
Caratacus
kah-RAT-uh-kuz
Cartimandua
kar-tih-man-DOO-ah
Carvetii
car-vet-ee
Catraoine
cuh-trow-in
Cernunnos
kair-NUH-nohs
Charis
KAER-his
Cornovii
kor-noh-wee
Danu
DA-noo
Deceangli
deck-anh-lee
Demetae
deh-MEE-tay
Dumnonii
duh-nom-nee
Durotriges
dur-OH-trih-guz
Epona
uh-POH-nuh
Fogamur
FOH-ah-mahr
Gaesatae
guh-say-ree
Gemina
GEH-mih-nuh
Gesoriacum
guh-so-REE-ah-coom
Gruffydd
GRIF-IDH
Gwenfrewi
GWEHNVReh-Wiy
Iceni
ai-SEE-nai
Isca
ISS-kah
Llewyn
LOO-when
Lugh
LOO
Luigsech
LEE-sak
Manduessedum
MAHN-doo-ess-eh-dum
Morcant
MOR-CAHNT
Nicomedes
NEE-koh-meh-dez
Ordovices
or-doh-veh-suz
Prasutagus
prah-SOO-tah-gus
Regni
reg-NEE
Samhain
SAW-when
Samos
SAW-mohs
Silures
SEE-lurh-ez
Sophonisba
sah-fon-EEZ-bah
Taranis
TERR-ah-nis
Teutoberg
TOO-toh-burg
Tiernan
TEER-nan
Tirintius
TYE-ren-tee-us
Titianus
tee-SEE-ai-noos
Venutius
whe-NOO-tee-us
Viricio
weer-EE-kee-oh
Viricos
where-ih-kos
Viroconium
wee-roh-cohn-ee-um
Xenophon
ZEH-nuh-fin
part one
samos
I
Viroconium, British Frontier, AD 59
‘
Centurion, to what do I owe this pleasure?’
Decimus Maximus slung his helmet, resplendent with its brilliant red transverse crest, to the floor. He lifted a hand in protest at the woman who moved towards him. ‘Sit down, Cassia. It’s not that sort of call.’
Cassia pouted and flung herself back against the ornate silken pillows and Persian carpets that adorned her room. She unpinned her shoulder-length, silky blonde hair and patted the billowing folds of her rather exotically coloured and provocatively cut gown. ‘You might have humoured me for a little while. It’s a rare day when I ever draw any business. I’m not getting any younger, you know.’
‘Nonsense.’ The ghost of a smile flashed across the grizzled centurion’s face. ‘You look as young as you did the day you landed in this forsaken country.’
Cassia laughed, eyeing him in approbation as he sat down beside her. He bore little resemblance to the curly-headed youth who’d used to chase her around the teeming streets of Rome, or even the junior centurion who’d first planted his feet in Britannia sixteen years before. Lines had begun to crack his sharp, campaign-weathered face; his dark, close-cropped hair that peaked just over his forehead in ringlets had become streaked with grey; the full, trim beard he’d sprouted over the years was likewise almost as white as it was brown. Cassia lifted a hand and tenderly fingered the leather shoulder straps of his cuirass. Despite their effect, the intervening years had done little to weaken her affection for the young lad in Rome who’d stolen her heart. ‘Oh, Decimus. You’re too kind.’
He gently took her wrist and lowered it back to her lap. ‘I told you, I have no need of your services. I’m not getting any younger, either; I don’t feel those kinds of urges anymore.’
Her bright blue eyes clouded over as she curled back. ‘Homesick again?’ She asked flatly, already knowing the answer.
Decimus reclined stiffly against her plump cushions, feeling his studded jerkin catch and chafe against the delicately embroidered designs. ‘You know me all too well.’ He smiled and flicked a finger over an ornamental tassel. ‘I was just happening to think about that night when The Senator was entertaining, and we climbed over the pasture fence to play around his vineyards in the moonlight.’
Cassia giggled. ‘The Senator’s parties were such a bore!’
‘Yes, but we made our own fun.’ Decimus cast his eyes through her shuttered window, reeling back the years in his mind.
Cassia sighed, remembering their wild dashes up and down the orderly hedges in an enthusiastic game of chase. ‘I’ll never forget the whipping I got for the hole you put through that trellis you tried to scale!’
He shook his head, his jaw tightening. One hand lifted from his lap, where it had been idly fingering his baltea, and hardened into a fist. He could still picture The Senator’s bland, impassive face watching on from the comfort of his triclinium as the houseboy flayed Cassia’s backside. ‘I ought to have beaten him for that.’
Cassia shuddered. She couldn’t help but draw back, repelled, as the man fell away and the soldier assumed his place. The steel in his gaze chilled her spine. ‘You were a child,’ she whispered, eyes wide. ‘You couldn’t.’
To her relief, he softened and shot her a rueful smile. ‘Right. Still, you were my best mate.’
‘Don’t worry.’ She crawled into his lap and curled her heavily scented arms around his stout, grimy neck. ‘You’ll make it up to me when you retire from the army.’
‘Mmm,’ he grunted absently. Cassia frowned as he looked away. I won’t let you forget about that promise, Centurion. She massaged his shoulders, digging to pinch the skin hidden beneath layered chain mail, leather, and linen. She’d worked hard enough to earn a retirement of ease far away from the muddy shores of the Sabrina.
She began to run her fingers through his sweaty, helmet-plastered locks. A deep sigh issued from within his chest. She tried to meet his gaze, but the glassy, distant look had returned to his eyes. Cassia frowned. She didn’t know what dark paths his mind sometimes traced, but she was tired of losing her friend to those shadows. ‘Oh, just forget about the past, already, Decimus! Rome won’t remain a distant memory for long.’
He sighed happily. The joy creasing his stern, angular features had nothing to do with Cassia’s gentle ministrations. ‘Two more campaigns. Just two more campaigns and I can finally return to Rome. Rome! Where the sun always shines and the water’s as blue as the sky.’ He beamed a longing smile at the plain thatched ceiling of Cassia’s room, seeing nothing but the beautiful city he yearned to return to.
‘Yes,’ Cassia breathed, contenting herself once again to pretending to be the source of his happiness as she pressed her cheek to his ear. ‘Two more campaigns in this shithole and the three of us will be back in Rome with a decent living: you, me, and Cato.’
Decimus’s face fell, his daydream broken by the mention of his attendant. ‘I haven’t seen that blighted brother of yours since this morning. Just where has he gotten off to, do you think?’
Cato sat on the grassy bank outside the fortifications, idly polishing one of his master’s bridles. The neat, orderly rows of the legion’s barracks sat behind the tall wooden walls at his back. To his right, a straight, clay-lined channel ferreted water from the northern brook, diverting a stream gently downhill into the cistern located just inside the fort. Beyond the bend in the brook, he could make out the scattered stones comprising the fort’s cemetery. Members of the legion, their slaves, and other members of the vicus had committed their ashes to those mossy green banks.
He sighed. Even the freedom granted those slaves in death was better than no freedom at all.
Cato paused to wipe his grimy hand on his pale blue tunic before running it through his wavy, wheat-coloured hair. His pert, snub little nose with its light smattering of freckles and his full, expressive lips scrunched into a scowl. He twisted in the grass and watched the legionary patrolman walking the fort’s palisade pass back and forth. Aside from a couple of stray looks, the soldier largely ignored him. Grunting, he turned away in disgust.
