A Mixture of Madness, Book II of The Bow - By Levkoff, Andrew Page 0,54

the borrowed cloak. “Do you think you men could continue this riveting conversation after we’ve had a chance to change into some dry clothes?” I looked up; it did appear as if it might rain again.

Culhwch did less than ignore the young mistress; he went on speaking to me as if she was not even present. “I’ll teach you some of our tongue while we’re here. You’ll probably choke to death on the first sentence.”

“If the stench of your journey does not kill me first.” I know. How impolitic of me. How spontaneous. How convenient that Crassus' warrior son stood so close. Livia gave a short laugh, underscoring the magnitude of my impertinence; the sound was mirthful and mischievous. Diplomacy aside, I could not let the Celt’s callousness and disrespect stand. It rankled. Even in Rome, especially in Rome, a few of the rules of civilization must be upheld, or if not, what is left to uphold civilization?

In any case, you cannot let these barbarians get the verbal upper hand. It encourages unmerited arrogance.

Culhwch was far from insulted. He let out a great belch of a laugh and made to slap his son on the back, checked himself and instead kicked one of Herclides’ men. “He’s a sharp-tongue,” he cried, making the balls on his helmet swing as he nodded. He took to the game like a hunting dog to the fallen prey. “Men like you are revered story tellers in my tribe,” he said, continuing to nod, “as long as they are entertaining.” He leaned forward on his horse and his eyes grew wide. “If we become bored by their wit, we cut them up and feed the pieces to the dogs. That always gets a laugh from the little ones.” Well. I’ll concede the first round, then.

“That’s enough,” Publius commanded. “You heard lady Cornelia.” Culhwch looked disappointed.

“Do we kill these ones?” he asked.

“Who among you are citizens?” Publius asked, reining his mount to face the captives. Only Herclides and Palaemon raised their hands. “Put those two under separate guard, and I’ll sell the rest.” A centurion, without being told, took sixteen men and herded the future slaves toward the forum markets. Strange that not a single protest was throated among them. Why waste your breath debating the inevitable?

“These two deserve execution,” Malchus said, pointing his gladius toward Herclides and Palaemon.

“What, and lose two votes in the coming election? In case there was any doubt,” the general said to the men who had caused us no end of grief, “you’ll be supporting my father and Pompeius when the time comes. And between now and then, you’ll be campaigning for our noble senators. Clear?”

“Yes, general,” Herclides said, his head bowed so you could not see his eyes. Palaemon nodded.

“Good. Tribune!” Another officer, the trailing main of the blond horsehair on his helmet as combed and cared for as his beard, rode up beside Publius. “See that these two find a place in camp where we can keep an eye on them.”

“We’ll squeeze them in, sir, nice and tight.”

“What about him?” said Livia, pointing to the retiarius. “He tried to kill Drusus.”

“I wondered what you were doing holding a trident,” Publius said to me. “Hand it over. It makes you look silly. You—out here.” The gladiator moved from the middle of the captives to stand before Crassus' youngest son. “Are you a citizen?” Publius asked, inspecting the six-foot trident as if he had never seen one up close before. The bigger man, his left arm-shield his only protection was hanging at his side. He shook his head; his jaw was set, his eyes fixed on the young commander. As Publius said, “Too bad,” he thrust the weapon into the gladiator’s bare chest, yanked it out and dropped the trident on the ground. Legionaries on either side of the fighter had caught the man before he fell and were dragging him off while he expired. The son of Crassus, it seemed, was a child no longer.

“I killed that man,” Livia whispered.

“You saved him,” I countered, “from having to think about the time and place of his execution.” A weak argument, but what else could I say?

“Post men about the city as we’ve discussed,” Publius was saying. “We are here to keep the peace until elections are held. I intend this campaign to be a success like any other. Culhwch, don’t have your men wash off the woad. The word’s already about that I’ve crossed the pomerium with armed soldiers. Let’s make sure