Antonillus jerked awake in the predawn darkness as a bugle sounded a watch change. Someone had banked the cook fire. He scrambled to his feet, rolled his bedding, and stored it beneath his father's cot. Artos still had not returned. As Antonillus left their tent, he could see several fires still burning in the ruined hillfort. He poked up the cook fire and added more wood as orderlies dropped off kindling, water, and rations.
Coel appeared and he joined Antonillus in slicing cheese and bread for breakfast. In a Roman camp, orderlies woke first. Sometimes enslaved, or maybe partially disabled veterans, their job was to prepare supplies and have food, water, and posca available. Younger tribunes roused soon after, to distribute orders, passwords, and other information. Senior officers awakened as the camp came to life. Plautius made his way over with Blaesus and Poplicola. They helped themselves to the food as Plautius held an officers call.
"I'm having more supplies sent your way, Young Man," the Camp Prefect said. "I'm spoiled now. I can't abide anyone else's cooking, including my own."
"I'll do my best to oblige, Sir," Antonillus said.
He set pots of water on to boil and put dried peas and beans to soak.
"I'm bringing mutton chops later," an orderly said.
"I wish I had the herbs my mother uses," Antonillus said.
"Mothers' cooking is special just because," the orderly said.
As the senior officers conversed, a younger staff tribune approached the princes. He was an Italian, recently arrived from Rome.
"Which one of you lives here?" he asked in Latin.
Coel rose.
"I am Coel of the Catuvellauni," he said in Latin.
"Oh!" the Tribune said, his voice rising as though addressing a small child or a pet. "Can-you-speak-Latin? How-about-Greek?"
"I can speak both," Coel said in Latin and switched to Greek. "Which do you prefer?"
The Tribune brushed the question off and continued in Latin.
"Come with me."
"Where?" Coel asked.
"We need some identifications of casualties," the Tribune said.
"I'll come with you," Antonillus said. "Abonos, Imantios, cover me here."
Abonus picked up the bread knife as he and Imantios took over making breakfast. Antonillus walked with Coel as they followed the Tribune to an area inside the burned out interior wall. Several partially charred bodies lay uncovered in a row. Some were starting to stiffen. Coel shuddered. Celtic tradition was explicit about bodies and the close proximity of death in any form. These men died with no preparation and they lay here with no blessing or appeasement. Their tortured souls were close by, and anyone coming near them risked haunting.
"I'll go no further," Coel said.
"We need you to identify them," the Tribune snapped.
"Allow me," Antonillus said.
He had a canteen of water and poured some of it on the ground, invoking Lugh, God of Light, the Great Mother, Sucellos, as well as Vercingetorix and Generals Marcus and Gaius Antonius.
"We are protected," he said to Coel.
"Yes, yes, shall we get on with it?" the Tribune snapped.
He pointed to the first body. Coel peered at the face.
"This is my uncle, Togodubnus," he said.
"How do you know?" the Tribune asked.
"I grew up around him," Coel said. "The tattoo on his left arm represents Adsaduna, the goddess of death. I shot him, if you must know."
YOU ARE READING
Domina Triumphans
Historical FictionThe saga of the Antony family continues as the next generations take up where their forebearers left off.
