Amazon - Slave of Rome

Chapter 5 - The Hunt

            “Enough!” Mhea shouted, ”This has gone on long enough. We are a day’s ride from Brocavum and still you will not speak to me about Albinus.”

“Now’s not the time.” Titus growled pulling on his kit “I can at least keep up the pretence of commanding this Ala. The men must be roused.” Pushing the goatskin tent flap open with a resounding thwack Titus made to leave.

            “I will not be left speaking to the air”  Mhea cursed as Titus bent to exit the tent. Grabbing the corner of the Decurian’s cloak Mhea pulled Titus back into the tent.  Sighing with resignation Titus remained but kept his back to Mhea. Gently she placed her hands on his shoulders. Submitting to the pressure Titus turned to face her. Clasping Titus’ scarf Mhea brought his face close to hers. Stroking his cheek with the back of her hand she spoke softly but firmly, “Tonight you and I will hunt for boar. The sport will mark our arrival at Brocavum a celebration rather than a punishment” Titus started to object but was silenced by Mhea placing her index finger to his lips “this will please the men. It will also please me when I beat you to the fattest tastiest hog in Britannia.”

            “You should be so lucky”

            “Fighting talk eh Roman?” Mhea laughed relieved to hear something of the old Titus.

            “Finished? Can I go?” Titus exaggeratedly gestured towards the opening.

            “Dismissed!” Titus smiled and bent to leave as Mhea reminded him “See you at dusk”.

The wagons carrying provisions and equipment for the Ala lumbered along the road. Toward the rear of the convoy came the women and children following their men on yet another posting. Their numbers had swelled since the stop at Bremetennacum. Disappointed to find their men were not to stay at the renowned Sarmatian veterans’ camp but to carry on north the women and children joined the baggage train determined not to lose their albeit illegal husbands to the women of the northern tribes. Huddled in her Kurta and aloof from the familial flotsam Tulla tried to avoid the jeers and looks of the men of her unit who sporadically came to make her miserable existence even more excruciating.

Once Tulla would have thrilled to be on the move with the Ala but now thanks to the German boy she was no better than the camp followers that trailed after the men.  Just as Tulla was beginning to wallow in her misery a large gobbet of mud and filth churned up by the broad wheels of the train hit her square in the face.  Stunned Tulla was halted in her tracks as the filthy slime slid the full length of her face to fall to the ground with an unnecessarily loud plop.

            “Suits you. You should consider full camouflage all the time” was that wretched lad going to be there at every seeringly embarrassing moment of her life? Tulla wiped the muck carefully from each eye before looking squarely at the fair-haired youth. His pony pranced beneath him and the sun seemed to form a halo of light around him.

‘Much too clean for a soldier’ Tulla thought as she playfully gathered up a ball of the thick, malodorous ooze. “You could do with a bit of dirt yourself. Pretty boy.” Tulla cried as she hurled the dripping orb in the cavalryman’s direction. Marcus quickly turned his horse to let the mud fly past and land harmlessly with a splat behind him.

Unfortunately for Tulla the effort of flinging the weighty mud-ball left her slithering in the mire and slipping she ended up sitting in the dirt. Before Marcus could come up with a suitably cutting remark Tulla surprised him by being struck with the ridiculousness of the moment - Marcus beautiful and radiant while she must have looked like a creature of the underworld - and a fit of laughter overcame her.