The Girl and the Emperor

or, The Seventh Move of the Civil War

Caesar Crossing the Rubicon by Adolphe Yvon

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The Sixth Move | The Civil War Index | The Eighth Move

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An icy wind howled from the north. Maedicius’s breath plumed from his lips and the fur on his cape dangled with icicles. The road was beginning to freeze. For three days the wind had blown from the north and for three days the men had shivered. A dozen of the most severely wounded had perished in the night. The water had frozen in the barrels and there wasn’t enough fur cloaks or gloves to go around. The colony of Ovilava was at least two days away.

‘An unusual wind for the season, Most Venerable,’ Tribune Sejanus pulled his cloak tighter about him.

‘When we stop for camp have the diviners make offerings of sheep and ox. I would know what the gods have in store for us, and not just the weather but in Ovilava. Livicus is no fool, he will have laid a trap.’ The Emperor sat upright in his saddle, cape billowing, defiant.

‘Most Venerable there is still opportunity to head east to Belum, then south—‘ Sejanus was cut short with a glare.

‘Castor Fidenus is Livicus’s man. The moment he hears of our approach he will close the gates and move to destroy us. This wind tells of thick snows in the winter. We need an ally to see it though.’

‘Opiter Regillensis is not our man.’

‘He’s not Livicus’s either, like his father he is a man of principle. Frustratingly contrarian keeping to what he deems to be proper and lawful, how such a man is descended from an ancient king I’ll never understand. Some jest by the gods I suspect.’

‘You’re betting on him agreeing with your interpretation of the law?’

‘No, I’m betting he won’t have made a decision. Livicus will send missives but I can talk to him night and day, he will not refuse me. The least we need is a camp inside the city and access to his granaries for the winter. He has many works going on, our men can assist in building what he wants. I will make him indebted to us and us to him, such mutual investment will force him to side with us. His morals will demand it,’ with a swish of his gloved hand all obstacles perished.

‘As you say, Most Venerable,’ Sejanus looked puzzled. ‘Opiter always struck me more like his mother than his father. She acts all disinterested in the machinations of state but I know she has pulled more strings and donated to more causes than most senators. She keeps it quiet and Aurus allows it.’

‘Perhaps, but what is Opiter to do so far away from Elysia? Alone.’

‘Tribune!’ Centurion Cassius sprinted up the length of the column, his breath steaming behind him.

‘What is it, Centurion? An ambush?’ Sejanus wheeled his horse around.

‘No. No,’ Cassius panted. ‘It’s the girl. She escaped.’

There were sniggers from the nearest cohort of marching soldiers. ‘Thusnelda? Why is a girl of thirteen causing issue? Chain her up. Whip her for the crime,’ Sejanus’s cheeks turned ruddy with rage.

‘The Warini are furious as it is. If we whip her I fear they’ll attempt escape or worse,’ Cassius jogged to keep up with the Emperor and Tribune.

Sejanus shivered with fury but as the words frothed in his throat Maedicius cut him short, ‘Centurion, show me where the girl is.’ He clicked his tongue and guided his steed towards the rear of the column, the freezing wind slashed his face.

Thusnelda had captured a food cart and defended it as her own personal fort, swinging a spatha about her head and throwing handfuls of frozen wheat and hard millet at all who approached. The legionaries who surrounded her looked afraid, not of her or the spatha, but of harming her. Maedicius chuckled to himself. Legionaries cowed by a barbarian girl all because she is a symbol of uneasy peace, he stopped his horse five yards from her fiefdom. ‘Do you speak the civilised tongue?’ Maedicius’s voice was gravel rolling down a mountainside.

Thusnelda wheeled around sword high, a fist full of wheat, and fury in her eyes. An aspect of Aphaia the Huntress. Green eyes pierced Maedicius, ‘A little.’ Kernels slipped through her fingers and tapped against the floor of the cart. A nest of auburn hair curled about her eyes and ears. Layers of furs and skins made her seem rotund but her svelte neck told otherwise.

‘What do you aim to achieve?’ He rested his hands on the pommel and calmed the soldiers with a sweeping glance, they lowered their pila. Thusnelda shifted, her eyes dancing through her potential targets. The Emperor allowed the silence to stretch into uneasiness.

‘I… I don’t know,’ she stepped back and forth, the handful of wheat shifting targets but never being loosed. Her sword arm drooped with uncertainty.

‘Then why are you waving a sword around and throwing food like a child,’ Maedicius leaned back to stretch his arms with the help of the saddle. His elbows clicked with relief. The wind buffeted them all, a thin mist had settled along the road and in the surrounding sparse wood.

‘I’m angry and…’ she swallowed hard. ‘And…’ a tear formed in the corner of her eye but as quick as it ran down her cheek she found her fire. The sword was raised high and a fresh fistful of wheat was in her hand. ‘It’s all your fault!’ She launched the wheat at Maedicius. ‘And yours!’ the next barrage spattered upon Cassius’s lamellar armour. ‘And yours!’

Maedicius laughed. A booming, hearty laugh, as he picked kernels from his fur shawl. ‘You miss your father and sisters. Do you know anyone amongst your kind here?’

Thusnelda shook with rage as she wheeled and threw handful after handful of wheat. She halted at her return to the Emperor, her wind bitten cheeks stained with tears, and gave a slight shake of the head, her auburn hair quivered, the ends iced over.

He nodded, ‘You’re Hermunduri, correct? And most of those men are Warini? Where you not allied?’

‘Yes but only against you. We fought, when I was younger. They slew my brother, not that I remember him. They look upon me as a man looks upon a spitted hog, a prize for a respectable deed. A notch on the sword hilt.’

She speaks more than a little Elysian, he filed it away for later. ‘My men think they are ready to fight to protect you, that you inspire them to action.’

‘Only because they think they can win my hand by rescuing me or by killing you. Those men are not farmers, they’re warriors, highborn at that. Feats of bravery and honour are rewarded with women and gold. A good life. I have no doubt they would care well for me, when I become a woman.’

‘Your future husband will have life of drama with you, I pity him already.’

Thusnelda laughed through her tears. She smeared her blubbering across her chin with the back of her hand and dropped the fistful of wheat.

‘Your father will live as long as he keeps his word. Your sisters will survive as well. I will not lie to you, it will be many years before you see them again.’

‘And what happens in the mean time? Am I to be married off, stuck in some hole in the ground, passed around the warriors? I know what happens to the women of defeated tribes.’

‘The actions of barbarians and desperate men. Necessity can be cruel, it is true, but none of that will happen to you. Like the men you will be dispersed amongst the patrician families either as wards or servants, depending on age, and taught our ways. Our laws and language, our customs and traditions.’

‘We will become “of the City”,’ she spat the last three words.

Maedicius nodded, ‘Yes, you will become Elysian. As will all your peoples, in time.’

Thusnelda rolled her response from cheek to cheek, chewing on the anger and sorrow of defeat, ‘And if I refuse?’

Maedicius chuckled. He clicked his tongue and guided his horse forward. ‘There is always a pit in the ground or a temple looking for virgins. Would you prefer that? The goddess Aphaia would suit you well.’

The barbarian girl glowered without blinking. Half a minute passed before she broke of her stare, ‘No. I would not prefer that.’

‘Good,’ he turned to Cassius. ‘Centurion find her a horse.’ The Emperor peered back at Thusnelda, ‘I trust you know how to ride.’ She nodded. ‘You will be my ward, I can’t have you causing disquiet amongst my soldiers or ambition in the prisoners. But if you disobey me, cause me trouble, I will not hesitate to clap you in irons, understand?’

Thusnelda gulped and nodded quickly.

‘Spatha,’ Maedicius held his hand out for the weapon.

She hesitated, glancing from iron to flesh and flesh to iron. Her eyes flashed with calculation and she flicked the blade in her hand landing the hilt in the Emperor’s palm. Cassius brought a white mare for the girl and she hopped from the cart to the saddle without any loss of balance.

‘Thank you, Centurion. Back to your duties, men,’ he ordered the scattered soldiers. Each saluted as Maedicius cantered off toward the head of the column, Thusnelda following.

The Warini prisoners glared up at him and Thusnelda as they passed, curses passed their lips. Even the youngest, no more than eight summers, stared with lust at the girl. Lust not for her flesh but for her standing. The daughter of a tribe chief was a mighty prize amongst these people. Maedicius made note. Once a good distance ahead he glanced back and saw more walked hunched over staring at the road, fewer chattered, the change in situation had cooled their humours.

Sejanus looked ready to burst with rage on the Emperor’s return with Thusnelda in tow. His mouth morphed with complaint and agitation but all that came out was, ‘Most Venerable?’

‘All is under control, inform Legate Aegidius to separate the hostages. No more than ten to a group. Spread them throughout the column and, later, the camp.’

‘It will be done, Most Venerable,’ the tribune saluted and guided his horse from the head of the column. The clack of hooves grew distant.

‘Tell me, how did you learn the civilised tongue?’

The girl clung to her furs and leather, hiding her hands deep within her top layers with the reins. ‘An emissary of Elysia lived in my father’s house for near a year, when the Warini wanted war and we had more enemies. My father and mother thought it would be useful if we knew the language of the neighbouring tribes, yours is the largest so it was first.’

‘I’m surprised by Maroboduus’s openness.’

‘Many elders disagreed, saying to learn your language was to poison our minds with your false ideas. They were right.’

He ignored the slight for the elder’s were wise, ’Do you remember this emissary’s name?’

‘No, all your names are so similar and then you give us all similar names too. Hard to keep them all in their place.’

Maedicius snorted a laugh, ‘How about horse riding? There aren’t many horses in the northern forests.’

‘A tribe of nomads, honey skinned and flat nosed, came by a few winters ago and taught us in exchange for food and arrows. They were starving and had impressive bows that could loose an arrow twice as far as ours but no arrows or fletching tools. Not sure why, but again my father saw an opportunity and took it.’

‘How many nomads? All mounted?’

Thusnelda laughed and shrugged. ‘I was a child. The eldest of their number taught me to ride. After a season they left eastward and never returned. Ask my father if you want to know more.’

A rider appeared from the mist on the horizon, galloping at full pelt, the Emperor’s vexillum rippling high from his spear. The wind bit into Maedicius, carving through his fur cloak. ‘Most Venerable!’ The scout called. Pulling hard on the reins his mount skidded to a halt on the road, the animal braying with unease. Steam plumed from the nostril’s of rider and mount both. ‘A legion. On the road ahead. At least three thousand men. They’ve positioned for battle.’

‘What standard?’

‘The Governor of Ovilava,’ blood trickled from an arrow wound in his thigh, the shaft missing the feathered half, two more arrows were wedged in the leather of his saddle.

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The Sixth Move | The Civil War Index | The Eighth Move

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