The Roman Gambit Pt. 01

He shrieked like a little bitch and almost collapsed into my arms. I turned him around and shoved him toward the men's room saying, "Go beat off with the other hand. That one will still work".

Nobody noticed anything but his shriek and my shove. My mother was looking at Mel with both amusement and respect.

*****

Mel could not get over the fact that she was in a club in the French city of Honfleur. It was another one of those magic rabbits that Hilley kept producing. The music was classic blues-jazz fusion and the black guy playing the saxophone was a genius.

Mel would probably have been labeled a total dweeb except she was clearly the most stunning looking girl in the East End. So, men were not a problem for her. On the other hand, she would have been another example of a hard-working Cockney girl if it had not been for the accident of her being assigned to a study group with Hilley Larson.

They hit it off right away. Both of them were intelligent and serious students. But both of them also liked to have fun. Mel knew Hilley from the tabloids. She was the girlfriend of a guy who played center-back for the Spurs, which was Mel's favorite team being a Cockney and all.

Mel had expected Hilley to be the typical girlfriend of a star athlete, constantly bragging about him and all the people she knew. But Hilley never even mentioned that she knew the guy.

Hilley also never seemed to have any time to play during the week. Mel assumed that was because she worked the same kind of long hours that Mel did in her Dad's fish and chips shop.

Mel and her friend Prudence were regulars at the Ministry of Sound since it was just off the Southbank campus and they would see Hilley there with Gavin. But Hilley never seemed happy.

Mel being the intuitive soul that she was could see that Hilley had some things to talk about and so one day after a particularly long and arduous study session she asked her if she wanted to grab a pint at the Elephant and Castle.

Knowing Hilley now, Mel realized how gauche her choice of pubs was. But at the time it was at the top of her list of cool places.

Mel knew practically nothing about Hilley Larson. She knew that Hilley was considered to be the most beautiful woman on the Southbank campus and that none of Mel's many boyfriends could even get to first base with her.

So, Mel did what Mel does best. She commiserated and that empathy quickly got Hilley Larson to open up. It seemed that Hilley Larson was very lonely. She had no real friends, at least ones who were her equal. And all of the men in her life were self-centered little boys who she couldn't relate to.

Since Mel's interest in men did not involve anything more than how much they would spend on her and how many times they could make her come, the concept of being able to relate to a man was something that Mel had to think about.

Nevertheless, she got Hilley's point. Hilley just needed another human being to talk to. So, Mel concentrated all of her powers of compassion, warmth and understanding on communicating that Melissa Brown was her friend. Mel asked for nothing and gave Hilley everything and Hilley began to see that somebody in her life who plain-and-simple cared her.

Of course, Melissa had no idea whatsoever that Hilley Larson was rich and soon to graduate from Imperial College with an advanced degree in computer engineering ALONG WITH the Law diploma they both got from Southbank. At least that explained why Hilley never seemed to have any time.

Now Mel was sitting in a club in France. She thought to herself, "It has been an exciting three years". Then the good-looking guy asked her to dance. Mel liked the feel of the male body and so when she danced with anybody, she tried to enhance the sensation as much as she could.

The music was intoxicating, and she wrapped her arms around the guys neck, jammed her boobs into his chest, laid her head on his shoulder and sighed with contentment. She could feel more than contentment poking her in the stomach which also pleased her.

Mel was not a slut she was a huntress. She liked bagging men in the same way that a fisherman comes home with a basket full of fish or a duck hunter with a string of ducks. It made her feel sexy and desirable. So, it was natural for her to go through her usual routine of tricks.

She moved her body around on his. She sighed and even moaned a little. She rubbed her huge mobile tits on his chest, and she grabbed his leg between her thighs, moving her mound around on him as they danced. The whole thing was making her very wet, but she had no intention of fucking the guy, she just wanted to turn up his temperature. That was reward enough for him.

When the last song ended, she headed back toward their table with a look of satisfaction on her face. But as she sat down, she saw the guy coming angrily toward her. She knew that sometimes happened. Men could get the totally incorrect idea that they were in control.

She could have probably dealt with him herself except Hilley, who could easily pass as a warrior princess with her superb body and her incredible strength, got to him first.

The guy said something about taking Mel someplace where he could have a little fun with her. Hilley tweaked the top of his hand, just above his wrist. The guy shrieked like Hilley had stabbed him and literally sagged into her.

Hilley turned him around and shoved him toward the men's room telling him to go beat himself off with the other hand.

The incident was over with. But the three women decided to go back to the protection of the boat anyhow, just in case the guy had friends. Hilley's mother was walking beside Mel all the way back. Mel was afraid that Hilley's mom would be mad at her, or even worse think that she was a slut for winding the guy up like she had.

Instead she said approvingly, "That was a masterpiece." It was one huntress talking to another. Mel suddenly understood where Hilley got all of her fire and passion. It also explained all of the noise she had heard coming from her parent's cabin last night.

*****

The call we had been waiting for came very early the next day. Sir Alex was his usual hail-fellow-well-met self, which was a little hard to take at 7:00 in the morning. He said, "GOOD MORNING Miss Larson. Could you and Miss Brown meet me at the Club in an hour?"

I said, "We're in Honfleur and it will take me that long to line up an air-taxi, but we can be there by noon."

He said, "That would be excellent, we can do lunch."

My next call was the air-taxi service. It was expensive but I didn't want the hassle of driving over to Calais to hop the Eurostar. I dressed in jeans and a sweater and went next door to wake up Mel. She was sleeping wrapped around a pillow like she was cuddling a man.

I shook her lightly and said, "Wake up sleepy head." She muttered something about it being, too early.

I shook her a little harder and said, "We have to meet Sir Alex."

Mel shot straight up with a startled look on her face and said, "Where am I?" Then she saw me and smiled sweetly.

I said, "You are in Honfleur, remember? You had your way with one of the tourists last night."

She smiled again and said "Yesss that was nice."

I said, "You have to get dressed and packed. I have an air-taxi picking us up in 45 minutes."

She looked confused. I said, "We are flying back over to London in a helicopter. We need to meet it in 45 minutes. If you are not ready you are going to have to sail back to England with my parents"

THAT threat got her going. Mother and daddy were already out on the covered part of the quarterdeck having their morning coffee. I said, "The call just came in, I am meeting the air-taxi in the parking lot next to La Morelle in 35 minutes."

They both looked a little disappointed, and proud of me at the same time. I kissed both of them on the cheek and said, "I'll be back. I never want to get far from either of you." They both looked fond.

The Bell 407 is fast, and it made it from Honfleur to the Battersea helipad in a couple of hours. Mel had never been in a helicopter and so she had her moments getting into and out of it; especially with the rotor wash. Those whirling rotors can be scary.

The cab ride over to the Oxford-Cambridge club was uneventful. We were both in business suits that we had put on before we left the boat. Mine was bespoke and tailored for my figure. Mel's was off the rack at Harrods but with a body like hers almost anything she wears is eye catching.

It was clear that the geezers at the club noticed Mel's round, nubile little body and the guy at reception, who knows me by now, even had the faint hint of an emotion flash fleetingly across his face. He said, "Sir Alex is in the coffee room, you may go through."

Mel kept running into me gawking at the décor. So far today I had added helicopters and snotty men's clubs to her list of new experiences. Sir Alex rose to meet us. He is always an English gentleman. Mel looked like she wanted to sink into the floor.

I understood that my little friend was totally intimidated by her surroundings and I said, "Sir Alex, meet Melissa Brown."

She extended her hand and he took it in both of his and said kindly, "Welcome Miss Brown, we have heard excellent things about you."

Mel, who is beautifully dark complected, turned a brilliant shade of red and actually did a shy little curtsey. I suppressed a grin. The look that came into Sir Alex's eyes was fond, like he had found a long-lost daughter.

I said, "Sit down dear" and pulled out a chair for her.

She sat looking overwhelmed. I knew I had to kick off the ball, so I said, "I hope you have something interesting for us Sir Alex."

The waiter arrived at that point and I had to show Mel how to fill out the little slips of paper with her order on it. I had her sign her name on the slip, which is a unique feature of THAT club. Then we got down to business.

Sir Alex leaned back in his chair and looked at me appraisingly. He said, "How much do you know about the Varus massacre?"

*****

Marcus Caelius trudged along with the men of the 18th. He was feeling uneasy. They had left their summer camp on the Weser River four days earlier. The first day was ideal but the next two had brought the sort of cold soaking wetness that only happened in Germany.

He was miserable. And it was so cloudy that it was almost like dusk rather than high noon. He was Primus Pilus of Century I Legio XVIII and thus the Centurion in charge of the affairs of the first and most elite Century of the XVIIIth.

Caelius knew that the legion's route was supposed to take them south and west to their winter camp at Colonia Claudia Ara Agrippinensium. But the legions had immediately turned northwest and headed toward the lands of the Chauci.

When the march had started Legio XVIII was the advance guard of a line of people that extended back behind them for over 20 miles. It comprised two other legions, the 17th and the 19th and all of the associated auxiliaries, archers, slingers and cavalry. It also included nearly 10,000 servants, wives, children and other typical camp followers. Those people, their carts, horses and donkeys, were straggling along among the marching men.

Caelius hated Quinctilius Varus. And this breakdown of discipline was further proof of the man's total incompetence. Worse, the chill from the rainy and damp climate was beginning to seep underneath his armor and cloak and get into his very bones.

Like most legionaries Caelius was used to difficult weather. But this German rain was diabolical, and the damned forest was even worse. He wanted to get to the warm fires of their winter camp on the Rhine, still 150 miles away. Not slog off in the other direction.

On the fourth day, the column was proceeding on a narrow track through endless woods. Like most of the time when they were marching into new territory, the pioneers were filling in the road as they went along. But progress was slow because the trail that they were on was so uncivilized.

It was getting eerie underneath those interminable trees. So Caelius rode forward to check on the archers and German guides who were up front serving as the eyes and ears of the entire 30,000-man Roman column.

When he got to the very head of the column, he found his archers spread out in battle formation and engaged with an unseen enemy. Arrows were zipping into the trees and javelins were zipping out.

Archers are light infantry, not well armored and so occasionally one of them would make a gargling sound and fall to the ground as a javelin found its mark.

Caelius signaled the Cornicen who always rode with him; and that man started the trumpeting that would bring the men of the forward hastati of Cohors I on the run. Those men would sweep the trees on both sides of the Roman column and encourage the natives in them to be more "hospitable" to Rome's soldiers in the future.

He could hear the men of that cohort moving slowly and methodically 100 meters to each side of the column. There was the occasional scream and then Caelius heard the sounds of a general engagement off to the left.

Caelius rode quickly to the spot and found the 120 men of the first two maniples of Cohors I in a testudo formation.

They were fighting off 300 or so shrieking Germans. He considered that fair odds for Roman legionnaires, and it was obvious that the Germans agreed with that assessment, as they shortly disappeared into the forest as if they had never been there.

Caelius noted with some regret that he had lost three of his archers. He cared nothing about the loss of three Syrians, but he needed all of the forward scouting power he could get, and those men would be hard to replace.

The Sagitarii's Cohorte's Praefectus rode up looking disturbed. Caelius said, "What trouble's you brother?" The Praefectus said, "All of our German scouts just disappeared. It happened during the attack. I think some of them might have even joined the people attacking us."

Caelius felt a rush of anger. He would crucify those deserters. Then he felt a bolt of fear. He said, "Who will show us the way?" The Praefectus just shrugged. Caelius knew this was important. He had to report it to Varus himself.

So, he rode down the straggling ranks of soaked men toward where he knew Varus would be. He found the fat fucker right behind the 18th, riding in a carriage with his wife and concubines. The carriage was surrounded by a cavalry and infantry bodyguard.

Looking back down the column Caelius could just see the eagle at the head of the 17th glowing golden in the damp fog and gloom, perhaps a half mile distant. In between were maybe 50 teams of oxen. They were pulling heavily laden carts with the SPQR of Rome stamped on the chests in them.

Varus had been in Greater Germania for an entire tax season and this was the haul. It represented an impossible fortune in gold, silver, precious stones, and metalwork, even luxurious fur pelts. That degree of wealth would be tempting to anybody and Caelius knew that Varus had intentionally altered the Order of March to make certain that his two best legions guarded it.

Caelius rode right up to the carriage and saluted. Varus looked mildly annoyed. Caelius said, "The German guides have deserted us Sir and some seem to have even gone over to the enemy."

Varus seemed to digest that information without reacting. He was bleary eyed, and his mouth was moving like a fish out of water. Caelius thought to himself, "The man is drunk!"

At that point Varus's Legate Publius Longinus rode up looking quizzical. Caelius thought to himself, "He's covering for the pig!" He repeated the message to Longinus. Longinus looked puzzled and signaled to his cavalry galloper. He said, "Bring me Arminius!"

Arminius appeared almost immediately. Caelius didn't like that German by a half. But it was for a different reason. He didn't trust him. Granted Arminius was an impressive sight. With his horned helmet, Arminius towered over every Roman. He was perhaps a foot taller and easily 100 pounds heavier than Caelius.

Caelius repeated his message. Arminius seemed to ponder it, his handsome face a mask of thought. He said, "I will look into it?" His perfect Latin underscored his equestrian status.

Caelius remembered that the traitorous bastard was a hostage in Rome for so long that they had given him a purple stripe. Arminius and his Cherusci attendants then rode off in the direction of the front of the line.

Caelius turned to Longinus and said, "What shall we do." Longinus looked carefully around him and said, "A hill is on our right and a bog is on our left so we will continue marching forward on this path. It is really the only option we have."

The XVIIIth had marched into the long afternoon. If anything, the rain had gotten worse. Caelius was wrapped in his long red cloak but it had soaked through quite a while ago. So, the only thing it did now was protect him from the rising wind.

Legio XVIII had mostly moved around the hill on its right and was making its way almost due north when the sounds of a major battle erupted behind it. Caelius told the Cornicen to blow "halt" and rode off with the legion's cavalry to investigate.

In order to get to the place where all of the noise was coming from, he had to ride past 5,000 men and perhaps twice as many camp followers, all of whom were plodding along in the mud.

He and the 240 Legio XVIII cavalry who were riding with him crested a little rise in the trail. As he did, he could immediately see what the Germans were trying to do. They had hit the flanks and front of the XVIIth with everything they had.

The legionaries were at a huge disadvantage strung out as they were and with the camp followers, who were interspersed among them, screaming and disrupting everything. Caelius could see individual maniples forming into disciplined defensive lines.

But because the entire Roman column was an incoherent mess of panicked people there was no real organized defense going on. And since there was no unified front the Germans could concentrate on the individual maniples. So, there were thousands of Germans attacking each of the shield walls of the intact maniples.

The camp followers and the legionnaires who had not been able to form a proper defensive front were being mercilessly slaughtered by the Germans. Then Caelius saw something that made his blood run cold.

A huge German in a horned helmet rode up to the place where the aquilifer who was holding the eagle of the XVIIth had fallen. The man must have been killed in the first volley of javelins, but he had stuck his eagle standard into the mud before he had died. The German snatched the eagle, staff and all, and tossed it to one of his followers. He then charged into the nearest testudo swinging one of those huge German long swords.

That man was Arminius!! Caelius thought, "So it was a trap all along".

The effect of the attack on the head of the 17th was that the 18th and Varus's baggage train were starting to separate from the rest of the Roman army, just like a horse decoupled from its carriage would pull away. Caelius could see that in order to prevent total disintegration of the Roman line he was going to have to turn the marching column around. Then he could deal with Arminius.

There was total chaos for several hours and it was a near run thing. The XVIIIth was halted and turned. Then it executed a proper Roman flanking attack on the Germans who were still pounding the head of the XVIIth's column. The weight of two legions eventually drove the 15,000 or so Germans back into the trees. Caelius had been in the middle of it with the first Century forming the spearhead of an overwhelming wave that rolled up the German line along the length of the XVIIth's front.