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"from what?" Macer demanded. "Primitive heathen who eat insects and reptiles?"
"Gather the slaves and seal off the tunnel quickly. And make a good job of it. The barbarians must not be able to dig through after we leave."
"Little fear of that. from what I've seen, no one around this cursed land has mastered the art of metalworking." Macer paused and pointed to the massive heap of excavated takings poised above the entrance to the shaft, precariously held in place by a giant crib of logs. "Once that falls, you can stop worrying about your precious antiquities. No barbarian will ever get to them. Not by scr
atching with his bare hands."
Reassured, Venator dismissed the overseer and strode angrily toward the tent of Domitius Severus. He passed the personal emblem of the military detachment, a silver symbol of Taurus the bull atop a lance, and brushed aside the sentry who attempted to block his passage.
He found the centurion seated in a camp chair, contemplating a naked, unwashed barbarian woman, who sat on her haunches, uttering a chorus of strange vowel sounds. She was young, no more than fourteen. Severus was wearing a brief red tunic clasp over his left shoulder. His bare arms were ornamented with two bronze bands fastened around his biceps.
They were the muscled arms of a soldier, trained for the sword and shield. Severus did not bother to look up at Venator's sudden appearance.
"This is how you pass your time, Domitius?" snapped Venator, his voice coldly sarcastic. "Scorning God's will by raping a heathen child?"
Severus slowly turned his hard gray eyes to Venator. "The day is too warm to listen to your Christian tripe. My god is more tolerant than your god."
"True, but you worship a pagan."
"Purely a matter of preference. Neither of us has met our gods face to face. Who is to say who is right?"
"Christ was the son of the true God!"
Severus gave Venator a look of exasperation. "You have invaded my privacy. State your case and leave."
"So you can ravage this poor heathen?"
Severus did not answer. He rose, grabbed the chanting girl by the arm and threw her roughly on his camp cot.
"Would you care to join me, Junius? You may go first,"
Venator stared at the centurion. A chill of fear ran through him. The Roman centurion who led an infantry unit was expected to be a hard master. This man was merciless, a savage.
"Our mission here is finished," said Venator. "Macer and the slaves are preparing to seal off the storage cave. We can strike camp and return to the ships."
"Eleven months tomorrow since we left Egypt. One more day to enjoy the local pleasures will not matter."
"Our mission was not to pillage. The barbarians will seek revenge. We are few, they are many,"
"I'll match my legionaries against any horde the barbarians can throw against us."
"Your men have grown soft as mercenaries."
"They haven't forgotten how to fight," Severus said with a confident smile.
"But will they die for the honor of Rome?"
"Why should they? Why should any of us? The great years of the Empire have come and gone. Our once glorious city on the Tiber has turned into a slum. Little Roman blood runs in our veins. Most of my men are natives of the provinces. I am a Spaniard and you are Greek, Junius, In these chaotic days who can feel an ounce of loyalty toward an emperor who rules far to the east in a city none of us have ever seen?
No, Junius, my soldiers will fight because they are professionals and because they are paid to fight."
"It may be the barbarians will give them no choice."
"We'll deal with that scum when the time comes."
"Better to avoid conflict. I say we leave before dark-"
Venator was interrupted by a loud rumble that shook the ground. He rushed from the tent and stared at the cliff wall. The slaves had pulled the supports from under the crib, releasing a thundering avalanche that plunged over the cave opening, burying it beneath tons of massive boulders. A great dust cloud erupted and spilled into the ravine. The echoing rumble was followed by cheers from the slaves and legionnaires.
