Under The Eagle

'Thank you, sir. You heard the legate, lads.'

The papers were eagerly shuffled into order, ink pots stopped up and pens wiped clean before the clerks rose to leave the room.

'Wait!' Vespasian called out and they turned towards him anxiously. He fumbled in the purse hanging from his belt and tossed a gold piece to the senior clerk. 'For you and your men – have a few drinks on me. You've done a good job these last few days.'

The clerks mumbled their thanks and hurried away, voices loud with excitement, leaving Vespasian gazing wistfully after them. It seemed a lifetime ago that he had enjoyed a night out with the lads as a newly appointed tribune. Dusty memories of wild nights and hideously painful hangovers amidst the fleshpots of Syria filtered into his mind and Vespasian felt a pang for the sweetness of youth that seemed over almost before it had begun. Now he was forever separated from these men by age and, more fundamentally, by rank.

Vespasian slowly made his way towards the gate of the headquarters building, pausing only to nod as he passed by the door to Vitellius's office where the tribune was still toiling over some paperwork by lamplight. Vitellius had been spending a great deal of time in headquarters of late – more than was required by his duties and more than enough to make Vespasian curious. But he could not ask him outright the reason for his new-found diligence; tribunes were supposed to be diligent and any questioning of the man might look like paranoia, or worse. If Vitellius was indeed up to something, any undue attention would alert him to the legate's suspicion. More curious still was the fact that the tribune had taken on a bodyguard. It was a right due to his rank, but one rarely claimed these days. But there he was – shadowing his master about the base – a stocky thick-set man with the ma

– =OO=OOO=OO-=

Since Lavinia had been taken into Vespasian's household, Cato had had no chance even to speak to her and was only able to catch fleeting glances from time to time as he loitered outside the legate's house after he had finished with his duties for the day. He contrived to visit Flavia a few times in the hope that Lavinia might be present while they reminisced about life in the palace. But she remained out of sight and Cato was loath to reveal the true purpose of his visits, to the barely concealed amusement of the legate's wife. Finally, one day, Flavia could not help laughing.

'Really, Cato! You should be more inventive.'

'What do you mean, my lady?'

'I mean these excuses you have for coming to see me,' she smiled, 'or should I say coming to try and see Lavinia.'

Cato flushed and stammered out a garbled protestation that only provoked further laughter. He frowned.

'Please don't get cross! I'm not making fun of you. Really I'm not. If you wanted to see the girl then you should have said and I'd have arranged something for the two of you. Would you like to see her now?'

Cato nodded.

'All right then. But in a moment. We need to talk first.'

'What about, my lady?'

'I take it you know very little about Lavinia?'

'I only met her the same day you bought her,' admitted Cato.

'So she said.'

'The merchant who sold her said that she used to be owned by one of the tribunes.'

'Yes,' Flavia nodded. 'Plinius. Nice man, very intelligent – a quality that is totally wasted on the army.'

'Why did he sell her? Why did he leave her nothing more than those rags?'

'The answer to that depends on who you listen to.'

'What do you mean, my lady?'

'Plinius let it be known that he had sold her because Lavinia was useless as a house-servant. He said she was lazy, dishonest and incapable of learning her duties. The last straw, so he tells the tale, is that she stole one of his silk nightshirts.' Flavia leaned forward and continued, quietly. 'But the story being touted around the officers' wives is far more interesting. They say that Lavinia was something more than a house-servant. With her looks, anything else would be a sheer waste. Anyway, word has it that Plinius bought her from a sex-slave trader and was trying to groom her to while away the long winter evenings.'

'A concubine!'

'Not quite. Our Plinius wanted someone more sophisticated than that. Someone he could converse with afterwards. So, for the last few months he's kept Lavinia hidden away in his quarters teaching her how to read and write so he could introduce her to some literature. Bit of an uphill struggle apparently.'

'Hardly any reason to throw her out like that.'

'Quite.'

'So what happened, my lady?'

'What always happens. While looking up from her studies her head was turned by another tribune, somewhat more handsome and personable than Plinius. And definitely more cu

Cato thought for a moment. 'Vitellius?'

'Who else? He had to have Lavinia as soon as he slapped eyes on her. Being rather new to the game Lavinia hadn't quite cracked playing hard to get and caved in with distasteful celerity – she must have been quite taken by Vitellius. In any event, she was taken, quite a few times if rumours are to be believed. Until one day Vitellius over-extended his tryst and in walked Plinius, fresh from a hard day's work and just itching to get stuck into some elementary grammar tuition. Well, you can imagine the scene and the consequences you already know about. He almost gave her away to that merchant.'

'Poor Lavinia.'

'Poor Lavinia?' Flavia's eyebrows arched. 'My dear boy, that's what she was raised for. You must have come across her type at the palace in all those years? They were virtually a fixture under the last two Emperors.'

'That's true enough,' admitted Cato. 'But my father did his best to keep me away from them. He told me to save myself for something better.'

'He did? And you think Lavinia's something better?'

'I don't know what she is, all I know is how I feel about her. Am I making any sense, my lady?'

'Oh yes. It's your first experience of infatuation. Sounds like you've got it bad – but don't worry, it'll soon pass. It always does.'

Cato glared at her and said with bitterness, 'Do all older people think like that?'

'Not all. But young people do. That's their charm and their curse.' Flavia smiled. 'I understand your feelings, really I do. You'll see that what I say is true in a few years' time. You won't thank me for it now, or then. But let's try another perspective. What do you think Lavinia thinks about you?'

'I don't know,' Cato admitted. 'She hasn't got to know me yet.'

Flavia smiled gently and kept quiet for a moment.

'All right, my lady – I haven't got to know her either.'

'Good boy, you're begi

'Yes.'

Flavia smiled. 'Just as I thought.'

'You're disappointed with me, my lady.'

'On the contrary. A man who has a passion that overrides logic can be trusted in his principles. Only a fool values logic above feeling; sophists can reason themselves to accept any and all principles and therefore ca