This week we go back in time to Roman Britain.
The year is AD 261, and a young Sextus Terentius Varro, later known as Terens, has been given his first military assignment.
The scene takes place at the Varro villa outside the Roman legionary city of Eboracum (York) in the north of Britannia, two years before the tragic event that changed his life forever.
The scene takes place at the Varro villa outside the Roman legionary city of Eboracum (York) in the north of Britannia, two years before the tragic event that changed his life forever.
Sextus Terentius Varro
adjusted his sword belt and glanced at his reflection in the bronze mirror.
It’d been a while since he’d worn anything else but his equite toga, and it
took getting used to seeing himself in uniform again, this time as tribune - tribunus
equitus.
He should be grateful.
His father had paid a
lot of money, and favours too probably, to purchase his commission into the XX
Victrix. It had been his old legion, as he never tired of reminding his
son.
Sextus rolled his eyes.
If they were expecting him to be anything like his father, they were in for a
surprise. He was nothing like his pater. Which is why he wasn’t surprised to
learn the unit he was assigned to was sending a detachment of troops to some
god-forsaken outpost on the Wall.
He was sure his father
had had a hand in that.
Yeah, he should be
grateful.
‘I don’t want you to
go!’ His little sister Tia, latched onto his waist, one hand dangling her
favourite doll. At eight years of age, she was still too innocent in the ways
of the world to know why he was being sent away.
He crouched down to peer
into her eyes, large dark brown ones like their mother’s. They’d begun to fill
with tears. ‘Hey, you won’t miss me. You’ve got Julia here,’ he indicated her
doll, ‘and Tadius and Saena,’ children of the household slaves, ‘to play with.’
Tia sniffed and wiped
her nose with her sleeve. ‘I ‘spose. But you tell jokes and make me laugh when
Papa is so serious.’
Yeah, and didn’t he know
it.
If not for their mother
telling him otherwise, he would’ve sworn Father had been born wearing a frown.
It had etched permanent lines onto his brow. He couldn’t remember the last time
he’d seen him smile.
‘Tell you what. What if
I promise to send you a joke every week?’ At least her laughter would cheer up
the dreary place.
‘Promise?’ Her sweet
face lit up as if he’d just given her an armful of Saturnalia presents.
‘Make sure they’re clean
ones.’ His mother, Cornelia, stood outside his room, the morning sunshine
creating a halo around her dark curls. Her smile alone could lighten any dark
mood.
He’d often wondered if
she wasn’t a demigod, for how else could she have put up with the dour, austere
man she’d been wed to.
‘Mother.’ He raised her
hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips.
She smoothed his hair
from off his forehead. ‘Oh Sextus! I’ll miss you, but your father’s right. This
commission will do you a world of good.’
‘Nothing like fighting
barbarians to make a man of me, right?’
She sighed, and beckoned
to one of the slaves hovering nearby. ‘Take Tia to her lessons.’
Tia blinked away more
tears and crushed her face to her brother’s, giving him a long, wet kiss on his
cheek before running from the room, the slave traipsing after her.
He remained crouched a
little longer, his gaze following her out. It would be at least a year before
he’d see his little sister again.
‘Your father means well
for you, Sextus.’ Cornelia seated herself on the edge of his bed and smoothed
her long, light woollen robe over her knees. ‘This last year, you’ve been
idling, with no sense of purpose in your life, drinking too much … and saying
things best kept to yourself.’
He threw his head back
and glared at the red-coloured ceiling. Okay, so he’d said some stupid things
but it’d been enough to get a reprimand from the chief magistrate of the city.
‘I was drunk.’
‘That’s no excuse. If
you had been anyone less than Gnaeus Terentius Varro’s son, you could have been
executed!’ She closed her eyes and covered her hand with her mouth as a shudder
racked her body.
Sextus’s heart lurched.
He threw himself onto his knees at his mother’s feet and grasped her hand in
his. ‘Mother, please …’
‘Your father loves you.
Don’t ever doubt that. He called in a lot of favours to protect you and get you
out of the city. And whether you like it or not, Postumus is emperor of Britain
and Gaul. Gnaeus has sworn his allegiance. Do not endanger us, Sextus, I beg
you.’ Her voice shook.
That broke him. Sextus
hung his head as a pang of guilt gripped his heart.
Her eyes glistened as
she lifted his chin to meet her gaze. ‘You always were an impetuous child;
acting before thinking. Isn’t it time that changed?’
He hated to admit to it,
but this time his abandoned carousing and loose tongue had endangered those he
loved most in the world, and no damn emperor was worth that.
May the gods curse them
all!
He kissed her cheek then
stood and reached for his helmet on the table by his bed.
‘Let me do that.’
Cornelia placed the helmet on his head and fastened the strap beneath his chin,
her hand lingering there as if reluctant to let go.
‘I’ll do you proud. I
promise.’ And unless any of the fickle gods decided to have sport with him,
Sextus Terentius had no intention of breaking his word.
