The legion was wintering ahead. One legion, wintering alone in Cisalpine Gaul. There should have been more legions, but politics saw to that. I smiled. When those who saw themselves as kings bickered, the common people suffered. Hopefully Sulla would take care of that when he got back, but I doubted it. Unless he was willing to kill all of the problematic nobles, he’d come short of solving the problem, and Sulla himself was too entrenched in politics to pull that off. As much as I hated to admit it sometimes, he was one of those fools who saw themselves as a king. He was just the best one of them for the country. Shaking my head, I approached the camp slowly, from the brush. Coming upon a nice, tall tree on a hillock nearby, I clambered halfway up, for a better look at the defences. I stayed low enough to keep cover of a lot of branches, but high enough to get a real good view of the camp’s fortifications.
I saw two layers to the infiltration portion of this job. Once inside the camp itself, no one would notice or care about my presence. I was roughly the right age, size, and fitness to belong in the camp. The entrances into the camp would be somewhat problematic. I’d get spotted instantly if I tried to sneak right in through the walled portions. The ditches and walls were watched, though infrequently, more frequently than even I could get past them. That left coming in through the small community of hangers-on. The slaves, the merchants, the whores, the smiths, and all the other people vital to the wintering of an army. That led to the problems I’d have. Getting into the camp town was one thing. It was lightly guarded, but I would seem out of place anytime soldiers weren’t there as well. Sneaking in from outside, it wasn’t the soldiers to be worried about, but everyone. They’d think me a deserter of some kind and turn me in with some expectation of reward. Once in, I’d be good until the gates, where the guards might recognize that I did not exit. Once I’d gotten through there, once again, I’d be fine. Then I could complete my job.
First, getting in. I’d need to wait until daybreak, when the troops would begin to go to and from town. I began to map out mentally a path through the tents and temporary buildings that would take me from the brush to anywhere near the center of town, without putting myself anywhere easily noticed. As the second watch came to a close, I had five. All five, however, had the minor issue of travelling through tents. That meant, for each path, I’d need to check the tents. Adding two to five minutes to my infiltration. Thinking of the basic layout of such towns, which while not quite as regular as military encampments, were still extremely regular, I tried to find the best way into the encampment itself. Unfortunately, there were few enough gates into the fortifications that each would be guarded. They wouldn’t be particularly alert guards, for certain, but they would be present enough to notice him. Which meant he’d have to sneak in the old-fashioned way.
Thinking of his own service, both for and against Roma, he tried to work out the rotations of the guards. If he caught them after a change, they wouldn’t even care. Especially after a lunchtime switch. He’d have to spend four hours in the town before he’d have his opportunity. Shaking his head, he lay back against the tree trunk, and let himself doze off. The sun would awaken him when it rose. One watch of sleep was better than none.
The sun rose, and with it, so did I. Still perfectly balanced upon the tree branch, I couldn’t help but smile thinly. I’d have to inform Sulla that my years of avoiding farm work had indeed paid off, even if only slightly. I waited, watching the one gate from encampment into town that I could see. I wasn’t going to move until I saw someone pass through. Preferably, more than one, but at least one. After the sun travelled just over a finger’s-width above the valleys in the distance, I saw three men heading out into town, and I knew it was time to move. Hopping down from the branch in a single, elegant motion, I slid into the bushes. They would provide me cover up until a single pace from the furthest tent.
As I arrived at the end of the brush, l closed my eyes for a quick prayer to Janus and Mars, unsure whether the rear of a tent counted as a threshold or boundary, hoping that this particular one would be unattended. Then, taking a breath and checking for wandering eyes, I made a break for it, a simple dive from the bushes under the tent flap and into what appeared to be a kitchen. Thankfully, no one was inside that precise room at the moment. Unfortunately, there was a pot of water boiling, meaning whoever was supposed to be there would undoubtedly be back soon enough. Rather than risk them being in the next room, I slipped into a storage chest nearby, full of recently laundered clothes. The urine smell was distinct, but it was better then getting caught. I waited as I heard two people enter the room. Both voices were effeminate, though one was distinctly younger than the other. A child and her mother. Listening more carefully to their discussions of cooking, I could hear the accents as well. They were from Campania. South of the bay, if I had to guess, but I got southern accents confused easily. What they were doing this far north, I had no idea. Nor did I particularly care. After a spot of time waiting in that bin, the room outside went silent. After several minutes of quiet, I slipped out of the bin to continue my journey.
A stunned girl, no older than eight, looked rather stunned at my sudden appearance. “Who’re you?” she asked, in a normal voice.
I put a finger to my lip and told her, “A man with a job to do. Who are you?”
The girl was more curious than afraid. “What’s the job you’re doing?”
I shook my head. The girl pressed. “I could scream, you know?” she said, “Sneaking around camp like this, you’d probably be killed.”
I shrugged. “Probably. But you won’t.”
“Why’s that?” she asked.
“Because you haven’t yet.” It was a simple truth. If people are going to holler bloody murder at someone, they do it immediately. IF they don’t, they generally want something too much to care. “So, girl, what do you want?”
“Tell me what you’re here to do,” she said, “And I’ll tell you what I want.”
“You haven’t told me who you are yet, though. Hardly seems fair.”
“Life isn’t fair. My father taught me that,” she scolded, as though she was my elder.
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Very well child. There’s someone living in the fort who will not be by nightfall.”
“You’re kidnapping him?” she asked.
“No.” If the girl was as smart as she thought she was, she’d understand. And if she wasn’t, she didn’t need to know.
She understood and nodded curtly. “I see. Is it my father?”
“Who is your father?”
“The legate,” she was frowning as she said that, “My mother’s here trying to convince him I’m his.”
“Are you?” I asked.
“Don’t know,” she replied, “But my mom seems certain of it.”
I nodded. “It is,” I said, a blank stare boring into the child’s soul, “How does that make you feel?”
“Relieved,” the kid said.
I smiled and nodded, then stated, “Well, I best continue on my way. Would hate to be caught sneaking about, after all.”
She nodded. “Come with me, uncle,” she said with a fake smile, “I’d love to show you into town.”
“Uncle?” I asked.
She looked up at me. “You are my mother’s dead sister’s husband, are you not?” she said. The girl was clever indeed. She also was desperate to help me succeed. If it wasn’t a good plan, I would be worried about her intentions.
“Very well, niece of mine,” I said, formally, “But what of your mother?”
She shook her head. “My mother works in the big building during the day, you won’t have to worry.”
The large building in the center of town was a whorehouse, but the girl didn’t need to know that. “What do I call you, niece?” I asked.
“Crispa,” she said, “And you?”
“You can call me uncle,” I said, and then when I saw her disappointed look, I added, “But my name is Sextus.”
She smiled widely. “Come, uncle Sextus,” she said, nearly jumping out of her seat, “I’ll show you around.”
For the next few hours, I followed my ‘niece’ around the camp. She showed me the craftsmen and the merchants, the best places to acquire just about anything I’d need. It was unfortunate that I would be leaving this place. I hadn’t needed to instruct her to keep me away from places with too many soldiers. She was a particularly clever girl. That would be the death of her, undoubtedly, but not for some years to come. As the hour of the change in postings was nearing, I tapped her on the shoulder as though to say, ‘Time for me to go.’ She looked up at me, and mouthed the words, ‘Kill him good.’ Always a pleasant experience, meeting a child that enthusiastic about a brutal murder. I simply smiled as I wandered away from her, nodding but not interacting with the people in the camp.
As I approached the far gate, I saw the guards leaving their post and being replaced by a new pair. I nodded to those taking their leave as I passed, and they nodded back. After all, everyone else on the street had treated me as though I belonged. I strolled right past the new guards, with nothing more than a look and a simple, “Salve.”
Though I simply walked past, they did not stop me, and replied, “Ave.” After all, they’d seen the shift prior greet me as I’d passed them in the street, so clearly, I belonged.
Time was on my side now. No one would question a physically fit man walking around a military encampment. Everyone would assume I was from another tent, another century. After all, no one in any legion knew all six thousand or so soldiers of their legion. Even in an understaffed legion like this one, no one would question a soldier wandering around camp that they didn’t recognize. After all, if they didn’t belong, how did they get into camp? And so, I could have even walked right into the command tent of the legate through the front flap. However, there were undoubtedly people within, who would catch me when I killed him. That wouldn’t do. So instead, I walked the path behind the command tent, and when no one was watching, I slipped into the private chamber of the legate. The Roman army’s encampments were standard, down to the luxuries that legates often stocked in their chambers. The bed was ridiculously expensive, as was most of furniture. The prostitute on that bed, even more so. She was fast asleep, so I needed to make sure she wasn’t blamed for this. Carefully, as I waited for the legate to return for a bath, I wrote in script on the topographic map atop the nearby table, ‘Aliquis fide atque insidia aderat Umbrianus’. That would be enough, hopefully, to make people turn attention from the whore. It was known some Umbrian was wandering and murdering people throughout Italia, seemingly in preparation for Sulla’s return. It was also well known that this particular legate was a strong Cinnan supporter, which would pose a problem for Sulla. Fear of dying would keep more in line, at least that was the idea. Commanders had died in the field, and Politicians in country homes, but for a Legate to die within his own fortifications, inside his very tent, that was a terrifying idea. That meant no protection would be enough. Hopefully, that also meant no one would openly oppose Sulla any longer, but that was far-fetched at best.
I waited behind his fancy cabinet, awaiting the legate’s return. Soon enough, he did, and climbed into the gilded bathtub, stripping off his armor as he went. He called out loudly, “Whore, come over here!” I stepped out from hiding as the girl sat up. Placing a finger over my lips, I walked up behind the man. The prostitute, terrified for her life, remained silent and paralyzed. The legate saw my shadow looming over him and mistook it for the woman. “Took you long enough,” he said, and began to speak more.
My knife slit his throat at the voice box before he could. Choking on his own blood, he looked up into my eyes, fear welling in his own. “Sulla sends his regards, friend,” I whispered in his ear before nodding to the whore sitting up in the bed and sliding out the back of the tent. I’d gotten thirty paces before she screamed. It was a loud scream of terror, mixed with just a hint of disgust. I had hoped I would have made it all the way to the gates, first, but the confusion would help. I walked through the crowds, mock confusion and horror on my face, until I made it to the gates. The guards who should have been there were rushing back to the legate. I continued to walk through the gate which didn’t lead to town, calmly out into the night. Job well done.