Read Online The Inquest by Stephen Dando-Collins - Free Book Online Page B

Fulvus’ jutting penis was slowly lowering, like a flag coming down a flagpole. “Outside!” Martius barked. The tribune dragged the soldier to the door then out into the night.
    Crispus hurried to follow. “Please, Martius, don’t hurt him!” he wailed. “I beg of you, don’t hurt him!”
    Outside, Martius hauled the stark naked trooper toward the questor’s pavilion.
    Crispus hastened in their wake. “Martius! Tribune! Please!” he cried.
    “Give me a knife!” Martius yelled with unbridled anger. “A knife, someone!”
    “Please, Martius!” Crispus continued to plead.
    “There has been a crime committed,” Martius called, deliberately elevating his voice so that it would carry. “A crime committed in the camp. Give me a knife!”
    As the pair came up, the four legionaries on duty outside Varro’s tent looked at the tribune and the naked cavalryman in astonishment. Nearby, the heads of legionaries poked from the doorways of tents, attracted by the shouting. Seeing what was going on, men began to tumble out into the night and run toward the questor’s tent.
    Martius looked at the nearest sentinel. “Your dagger, soldier,” he commanded.
    The legionary immediately reached to the sheath belted on his left hip and drew his pugio , the standard legion dagger. He held it out to the tribune, vertically, so that the officer could grasp it by the handle. Martius took the weapon from him. “On your knees!” he snarled to Fulvus, using his hold on the young man’s ear to force him down. And then Martius waited, for an audience.
    Julius Varro now emerged from his tent, with his servant Hostilis just a pace behind. “Marcus, what is going on?” the questor demanded. His eyes flashed from Martius to the naked cavalryman to the distressed Crispus.
    “The poet was having his penis sucked by one of his acolytes, questor.”
    Varro looked at Crispus. “Quintus, you idiot!” he said, more in disappointment than in anger. “Not in my camp.”
    “Please, please, forgive me, questor, I did not think…” Crispus began. His voice trailed away. He could not defend the indefensible.
    Varro looked around them. Scores of off-duty soldiers had quickly formed in a semi circle around the entrance to the questor’s tent. “What do you propose to do, Marcus?” Varro asked his deputy.
    “These men all know military regulations, questor,” Martius returned. “Or they should!” He raised his voice a little more. “In case any of you have forgotten, as this wretch obviously had, I will remind you. It is a capital offense for a Roman soldier to steal in camp. It is a capital offense to give false evidence to a tribune. It is a capital offense to strike an officer. It is a capital offense to be convicted of the same lesser offense three times. And…” he stressed each word that followed. “It is a capital offense, punishable by death, if a Roman soldier, auxiliary or citizen, who, in full manhood, commits a homosexual act!” He looked down at the trooper. “How old are you?”
    “I am twenty-eight years of age, tribune,” Fulvus replied with a shaking voice, looking up atMartius with pleading eyes. It was the first time he had spoken. He knew his crime would only be exacerbated if he were to speak without permission.
    “Then, you are in your full manhood, are you not?”
    “Yes, Tribune.”
    “You are an auxiliary soldier, a non citizen, and you were caught in the act of an homosexual offense in this camp?”
    “Yes, Tribune.”
    “Then, you are condemned by your own words.” With that, Martius brought the dagger up, and, without hesitating, pushed it several inches into the left side of Fulvus’ throat. Fulvus’ eyes bulged with horror. Many of the men watching gasped with surprise.
    “No!” Crispus exclaimed.
    Martius dragged the blade across the breadth of the Vettonian’s throat, left to right, severing his windpipe. He let go of his ear. With blood spurting from the incision, coating his perfect