Princes 15 Scipio's Spy
Marcus Scipio and the Mycenian Campaign, 1740 AD
Part 1
The cannon rolled down the cobbled street, making a dreadful racket as they passed; their heavy wooden wheels clattered on the irregular cobblestones, and the ungreased axles groaned and squealed as the wheels turned. Lieutenant Marcus Scipio watched the cannon roll by and couldnt help wincing.
You overindulged last night, didnt you, sir?
Scipio turned and glared up at the man whod spoken to him. Sergeant Necalli, Cal to his friends, was grinning cheerfully, apparently enjoying his commanding officers discomfort. The tall, dark-featured Aztec was standing at attention, his dark blue Riflemans uniform doing little to hide his powerful frame. Scipio himself was a tall man, and strong, but Necalli was a giant. Not for the first time, Scipio was thankful that the Sergeant was on his side in this war. But he wasnt thankful enough not to be annoyed by his Sergeants chipper attitude.
We all bloody overindulged, Scipio grumbled. Including you. So how is it that youre so damned cheerful?
Water, the Aztec responded. Scipio continued to glare at him, but quizzically. Dehydration causes the hangover, sir, he explained with an impudent grin.
Scipio now vaguely remembered how the big Aztec had come across a rain barrel during the previous evenings revelry and had dunked his head in it, a sight which the other men had found extremely comical. Hed then proceeded to drink nearly a quarter of the rain barrels contents.
And here we thought you were just stocking up for a pissing contest, Scipio muttered. He regretted speaking even as he did so. His head felt incredibly tender, his ears oversensitive to any noise, and his tongue felt fat and dry in his mouth. He could feel that his sandy hair was plastered to his head by sweat beneath his shako, despite the coolness of the day.
But if a hangover was the price he had to pay, hed pay it. Yes, hed overindulged the night before, along with most of the Roman army, but no one could hold it against them. Theyd fought the first battle of the Mongolian campaign and had taken the city of Mycenian after a protracted fight. Afterwards, the soldiers had celebrated their victory. They had also celebrated simply surviving, not being one of the many Roman casualties, nor the more numerous Mongolian dead. And of course, none of them knew if theyd still be alive to celebrate anything in a day, a week, a month, let alone a year or longer. So theyd gotten drunk, practically the entire Roman army, and Scipio along with them. Hed enjoyed it and had no regrets. Today, however, they all paid the price. The General was seeing to that.
Lieutenant Scipio stole a glance across Mycenians town square at his General. Gaius Rutullus Lepidus just sat there on his horse, staring balefully at his men, his dark blue uniform with its gold epaulets immaculate, his high cocked hat perfectly positioned atop his patrician head, concealing most of the close-cropped auburn curls that adorned his head. He was too canny, the General was, to punish the men outright for drunkenness; there would have been too many men to punish and too few to mete out the punishment. Instead, hed ordered them out onto parade first thing in the morning and made the hungover troops watch
and listen
as the groaning, squealing cannon rolled by. As punishments went, Scipio had to acknowledge ruefully, it was excruciating, and brilliant. He swore that the only thing that rivaled the cannon in volume that morning was the gnashing of hundreds of Riflemens teeth.
The last cannon rolled by and left the square, and the men breathed an audible sigh of relief. Then they noticed the General watching them severely and braced themselves for whatever punishment he had in mind for them next.
Well, I sincerely hope you miserable bastards enjoyed that, General Lepidus said, speaking loudly and clearly from atop his chestnut brown stallion.
Several of the men around the square smiled ruefully. He was a hard man, they knew, but hed led them well yesterday--led them to victory. That forgave a lot of sins, or in this case, fiendishly ingenious discipline.
Just remember this, the General continued. From now on, you only get drunk when I give you permission to do so. Next time Ill do much worse than simply aggravating your hangovers, he growled. Dismissed.
The assembled soldiers perceptibly relaxed now that the ordeal was over. After receiving a nod from his Captain, Lieutenant Scipio turned to his own unit and quietly braced himself.
Company
dismissed! he called out, doing his best not wince as the sound of his own voice made his head throb painfully.
Should we go find some of the hair of the dog that bit you, sir? Sergeant Necalli asked.
Scipio glared at him. The tall, broad-shouldered Aztec was still irritatingly pleased with himself.
Ill settle for a bite to eat, Scipio responded, provided I can keep it down.
Scipio and Necalli had first met on board the transport ship
Minerva that had brought them from Rome to Mongolia. The passage had been rough and long, the quarters cramped, the food terrible. Many of the Riflemen, unaccustomed to sea voyages, had become seasick. Many more had threatened to mutiny. Scipio and Necalli had caught wind of the impending mutiny and, with a few other soldiers, had taken it upon themselves to suppress it.
Their actions hadnt been an act of duty or patriotism on their parts as much as enlightened self-interest. Every man on board a ship that had suffered a mutiny was likely to be punished with a flogging at the very least, regardless of their level of involvement. Nevertheless, the two Riflemen had been promoted for their actions before even seeing their first battle. The experience had also led to the two men forming, if not quite a friendship, at least a partnershipa mutually beneficial relationship between an officer and his sergeant.
The two men turned and strolled out of the citys central square, heading down a side street. They kept their wits about them, eying each window and door for trouble. Theyd won the battle and taken the city yesterday, but the locals, of course, would not welcome these conquerors from a distant continent. There would be unrest and resistance, so they remained watchful.
You in the mood for army rations, Necalli asked, or some of the local fare?
Scipio gave a brief, derisive laugh. You think the Mongos will actually serve us? He asked in a skeptical tone. Mongo was, of course, the soldiers somewhat pejorative term for the Mongolians. Considering the much coarser terms used yesterday to refer to the enemy during the battle, Mongo seemed almost polite in comparison.
Necalli shrugged. Theres always a few practical-minded businessmen ready to take anyones coin, he said. Businesswomen, too, he added, stopping as something in a nearby alley caught his attention.
Scipio turned and looked to where his Sergeant was staring. There, in the darkness of the alley, he could just make out the silhouette of a woman. She stepped out hesitantly into the light, and Scipios breath caught. She was Mongolian, and she was quite beautiful.
The woman was a head shorter than Scipio. Her hair was long and dark; her almond-shaped eyes matched her hair colour. Her skin was golden. She wore a white buttoned shirt and a dark green skirt which was just short enough to reveal a few inches of her well-shaped calves; her pert breasts pressed against the fabric of the shirt and immediately caught Scipios eye, especially since the top buttons of her shirt were undone, revealing an enticing hint of cleavage.
She favoured Scipio with a come-hither glance and an inviting smile. How long had it been since hed been with a woman, he wondered? Too damn long. Not since that skirt in the Subura, the tavern-keepers wife, the reason Scipio had found it necessary to join the army and get out of Rome until the whole ugly business blew over. He watched the young Mongolian woman approach him and felt the old, familiar hunger starting to catch fire in his body.
I think I just found the cure for my hangover, he muttered to Necalli with a grin. He slid his rifle off of his shoulder and handed it to the Sergeant.
Ask her if she has a friend, the Aztec replied as he took the weapon.
Hello, love, Scipio said to her, his smile broadening. He had a good smile, he knew; he had all his teeth and they were straight and clean.
Hello, Rome soldier-man, the Mongolian woman responded. She placed one of her hands upon a white-washed wall and placed the other upon her shapely hip, which she thrust out in a provocative pose. You want good time?
Do I ever, Scipio said, his tone low and intense.
Even as he approached her, he instinctively evaluated her as a threat. She carried no weapons that he could discern; her clothing was too tight-fitting, pleasantly so in his opinion, to conceal anything. No, she seemed like the genuine article. This pleased Scipio all the more. Hed managed to hang on to some of his coins last night, not spending them all on drink, and would be more than happy to leave a few with this delightful creature.
I dont suppose you have a friend around? Scipio asked, generously remembering Necalli, who was leaning back against the wall on the opposite side of the alley, watching the encounter with a bemused expression on his face.
The woman eyed the big Aztec for a moment, her brows raising in appreciation as she took in the mans size and masculinity. Then she shrugged.
I do you, then I do him. Okay? she said.
Scipio turned to glance at Necalli and grinned. Rank has its privileges, he quipped. Necalli just rolled his eyes.
I have place. In here, she said, indicating a doorway behind her with a brief nod of her head. Two Rome coin each, okay?
Sounds fair to me, love, Scipio said agreeably. She took his hand to lead him down the alley.
See you in a minute, sir, Necalli called after him. Scipio turned around briefly and held up his index and middle fingers, the back of his hand towards his Sergeant. The Aztec smirked and chuckled lowly at the rude gesture.
The woman led Scipio a few paces down the alley. He followed her into a doorway and found himself in the empty storeroom of what appeared to be a disused general goods store. He glanced around for a mattress but saw none.
Standing up then? he said with a smirk. Fine by me, love
Suddenly the smile disappeared from Scipios face. Even in the dim light of the abandoned shop, he could see the change that had come over the woman, and it startled him. Gone was the enticing, come-hither stare. She was staring at him levelly in a manner that reminded him of a cat eying prey. He knew that look that had suddenly appeared upon her face. Hed seen it enough times in the Subura back home. This was no mere prostitute; she was a predator. Instinctively, his right hand moved to his belt, to the knife he carried there.
The woman made a derisive sound as she watched him.
Relax, lieutenant, she said in clear, unaccented Latin. Youre not in any danger. Unless you try to rape me, in which case Ill take that knife and relieve you of your manhood before you make another move.
What the hell
? Scipio said, his pale blue eyes opening wide as he stared at the woman.
I dont have much time, she said. I have a message for the General.
Lepidus? Scipio said, his mind still reeling.
Is there another Roman General in Mongolia? the woman asked him with more than just a little sarcasm in her voice.
Scipio still struggled to clear away his confusion. Ive never even spoken to
he began to say.
Im going to tell you something, the woman went on as though he hadnt spoken. A set of phrases. It will mean nothing to you. But you must memorize it and relay it, word for word, to General Lepidus himself. Understand?
Scipio nodded; his mind was finally catching up to the situation. Even so, he felt completely out of his depth.
Im no spy
he began to say.
Im well aware of that, the woman muttered impatiently. But youll have to do.
There was a noise out in the street in front of the shop. The womans body jerked suddenly in alarm and she turned to look through a doorway to the stores grimy front windows that were partially boarded up. She briefly saw a child run by. Her slender shoulders slumped as she breathed a sigh of relief.
Youre in danger, Scipio observed.
My, youre a quick one, arent you? the Mongolian woman said in a cutting tone.
Maybe you should come with me and my Sergeant and deliver this message in person, Scipio suggested.
The woman blinked twice, expressing her surprise. Then an amused half-smile appeared upon her lips.
Very gallant, she said. But completely impractical. Now listen closely. Hercules has cleaned the stables, and is rounding up the mares. The lion is slain. The cattle remain free. She made him repeat the statement several times to prove to her that he had memorized it.
Theres a problem, though, Scipio told her. Im just a lieutenant. The General wont give me the time of day.
Just tell them the message is from Larentia, she said, and made him repeat the name several times as well. I have to go, she said suddenly.
With that, she turned away from him and cautiously made her way through the darkened store towards its front door. Scipios mind was still whirling; he stood and watched her go. She opened the stores creaking front door and stepped into the street.
Just then, Scipio heard a mans voice shout and saw Larentia tense. She turned to her right, away from the voice, and took a step as if she was about to break into a run, but then stopped. She turned around and grasped the handle of the stores door, but she never got a chance to open it. In a heartbeat, over a half dozen Mongolian men swarmed around her. Scipio watched as she quickly struck and felled two of them with skill and grace, but their numbers overwhelmed her. They grabbed her arms and held them tightly and painfully behind her back. One man, a tall, burly fellow who was apparently the ringleader, stepped forward and slapped her face, hard. She shook her head, then glared at the man and spat into his face. He slapped her again, and this time her head slumped forward.
Scipio felt his gorge rising. His teeth gnashed and his hands clenched into fists. He was about to run out of the darkened shop to her aid when suddenly she looked up and her dark eyes gazed directly into his. She gave a brief, barely susceptible shake of her head. Then the men holding her pulled her upright and dragged her away.
The leader of the gang remained standing out in front of the store. He turned and looked through its grimy windows. Scipio took a step back into the darkness deep in the abandoned store, but his eyes remained riveted on the face peering in towards him. The man was tall for a Mongolian, as tall as Scipio himself; he had a broad face and two long, thin mustaches that dropped down on either side of his mouth towards his chin. His eyes were narrow and hard, his mouth equally so. Scipio memorized every feature, hoping in his heart to see that face again when he had the advantage. Then the man grunted and walked away.
I was right, Necalli said with a grin a moment later when Scipio reappeared in the alley. That didnt take you
his voice trailed off as he noticed the grim look on the officers face.
Come on, Cal, Scipio muttered as he retrieved his rifle from the big sergeant, lets go.
Where? What the hell is going on? Scipio turned to glare at him, so Necalli quickly added, Sir.
I have to go recite a bit of nonsense to the General, Scipio replied. A woman may have just given her life for it, so it damn well better mean something to somebody.
Sorry for the delay. I got pwned by a non-Civ story idea that wouldn't let me go until I'd written it out.
The recent "story that wouldn't let go" is the new Star Wars tale. 
everyone,.... and merry 
as well!!
