Buying Trouble
A Soldier's Tale - by Terri Hamill
My name doesn't really matter, you know. I am a soldier. A soldier of Rome, like my father before me and his father before him. I serve Rome and She tells me where to go, what to do, how to live and how to die.
I am a soldier.
As I sit here, in this dank prison cell, contemplating the events that led me here, I can console myself with the knowledge that I have always done what Rome wanted of me. She can be a harsh mistress at times She can, but I have always known my place with Her. Always had my orders.
When I was young, my mother told me I would be a soldier, like my father. When I received my shield, she told me she would expect me to come home with it ... or on it. I have never let her down. I have never lost my shield.
But I lost my heart, and that's much, much worse.
I became a soldier on my sixteenth summer. My legion has been sent to all sorts of places. I have seen Ægypt, and Cimmeria, and even marched by the Pillars of Hercules. I saw the ruined feet of the Colossus as I sailed into the harbor of Rhoades. I fought the barbarian hordes who carry great axes and dress in the skins of animals in the far northern lands. And I was sent to Caledonia too, a year ago, to help put down the rebellion.
It was there that I met my doom, in the lush green forests and barren green heaths of Caledonia. The people there are fierce warriors, worthy opponents. The women and children fight as fiercely as their grizzled menfolk do, and we have learned to be cautious.
When Temacus and Uvon dragged a prisoner into camp that day, we thought it was another one of the terrorists who had been plaguing us at night. They had ringed out camp and pelted us with stones and hard nuts, all night long for many nights, so it was difficult to sleep. So when the two of them came dragging a naked, spitting, red-haired demon into camp, we were certain we had found at least one of the culprits, and that the night problems would fade finally.
It turned out to be just a boy who cursed us in his strange language and bit everything that came into reach. A boy he may have been, but he was just another barbarian, and good-looking to boot. I lined up with my fellows to take my turn ... it had been long since I had been with a woman or a man so I was hard and ready.
Uvon held him down with his knee on the back of the boy's neck, since Uvon had already had his fun. Tucking his cock back into his cup he grinned at me over the squirming, screaming boy. "He's good and tight for ye," Uvon had said with his strange western accent, avoiding a swipe of the boy's hands. Temacus laughed and held the boy's arms back while I freed my member.
"Go on then," Temacus had said. "You'll not get any tongue-work out of this one."
I remember laughing, and agreeing that I'd be as soon to lose my manhood as have fun, then I pushed into him.
Ahhh. I remember it so well. He was tight, and slick with blood and semen, and he screamed as I entered him, writhing. I nearly went off right then from the feel of it, but I managed to hold it for a while, plowing his hole and loving the feeling. Sweet Venus but he was good.
When the fire poured out of me I blessed the Goddess of Love in a loud voice, gasping my pleasure. Before I could move I was tapped by the next centurion in line, who was already fisting his cock in anticipation. That boy went through many of us that day.
Uvon kept him chained in the tent next to the privy holes. He said it was so that we could go and relieve ourselves two different ways. I think I was the most ready customer ... the feel of that tight hole was like paradise to me.
Of course he loosened up a bit as we used him. But the blood stopped, and that was good; we didn't want to kill him, after all, since he was so useful. Some of the centurions were harder on him than others; often when I went in to see him he'd have new whip marks on him or a large lump on his head.
Once, when I woke hard and aching to be relieved, I stumbled into the tent to find him curled up, asleep and whimpering. I knew Uvon had been at him late the night before, as he had new marks on him. Uvon liked to have it rough, and always laughed when the boy fought him.
He looked so ... little. So hurt, lying there. If I hadn't been so hard ... I reached out to brush his hair out of his eyes. He suddenly snapped awake, yelled and bit my hand. It hurt, too, and it ended up getting infected. I confess that the madness of Mars overtook me then and I hit him, hard, then held him down while I took my pleasure, hard and fast. He screamed hoarsely and cursed in his strange language while he struggled. When I pulled out after my ecstasy, he tried to bite me again and I cuffed him away.
But I felt bad, then. He was, after all, just a boy.
And so it went. Our legion was finally recalled and we formed up to march home. Uvon and Temacus tied the boy up to the end of the supply wagon and dragged him along with us, even though some of us – me included – objected, and said he should stay in Caledonia. Uvon laughed at me when I said that. He wasn't Roman-bred, that Uvon, and I never did care for him.
"Ye like buggering him more than all of us combined!" he chortled. "He's become quite your little catamite. I thought I could sell him to ye when we get our bonus."
I frowned at him then; I did not like the idea of slaves and he knew it. And anyway, the boy was quite mad by then. I had tried to give him food and water before taking him the night before and he just snarled and spit at me, then tried to bite me again. I got away from him fast enough ... the ribbing I took about that 'love bite' was enough to keep me on my toes around him, so to speak.
But I did enjoy him. His writhing always made me hotter. He was always so tight, even after having done half the legion. And so pretty ... even after he had lost all that weight.
Then, just before we reached Rome, he disappeared. Uvon shrugged when I asked and said he had sold the boy to a slave dealer. I was heartsick ... maybe, deep down, I thought I could indeed buy the boy and return him ... or keep him ... or something.
So it went. Our legion was on rotation on Pompeii after that, so we stayed near Rome. Then one day, Uvon and I were walking with another centurion on leave. We were to pick up some new leathers in the market and were walking towards the leather-dealer when Uvon nudged me. "Isn't that my pretty barbarian?"
A boy, red-headed, dressed in a cream tunic edged in green. A very pretty boy indeed, and I frowned. "Surely not."
"It's the same one, I tell ye. The one we brought back."
"It can't be. That thing was all ... Well, it didn't look like this."
The other centurion turned and looked as well, then grinned. "I'd know those legs anywhere. Must be he."
We moved as a unit, which was the only reason I moved at all. The three of us surrounded him, cornered him, and his face went from surprise to shock to feral fear and he snarled at us. Uvon laughed.
"It's the same one! See, look at the thing on the arm –" Uvon reached out to touch it and the boy lunged at him.
"See if he'll bite ye, then we'll know for sure!"
"Yeah, see if –" the other centurion laughed, shoving me roughly. I reached out to grab the boy's arm to get a better look at the tattoo.
Suddenly big hands grabbed my shoulders and I was turned, roughly.
"Excuse me, but that boy is not yours."
A tall man, older but well built and strong-looking, was behind us, looking like one of Jupiter's thunderclouds. Uvon and the other centurion had already begun walking off ... as usual.
"We're just kidding around. Having fun. It didn't mean anything." I didn't think this man would try to hurt me, a centurion of Rome, but I felt bad enough already about the boy.
"You will keep your hands, and your eyes, off what is mine, or you will be very sorry," he growled. I backed away, muttering a vague apology.
"Sorry ... I'm sorry. Didn't know." I moved off, and watched as the big man took the trembling boy into his arms and held him tightly.
"Shhh, you're safe now," I heard him say in a much gentler voice. "They're gone."
Yes, we were gone. But I lingered. I saw the tenderness on the face of the big man as he held the boy, and the wonder and delight on the face of the beautiful boy as he looked up at the man. I wish I could have made him look at me like that. I wish I knew his name.
So now, I sit here, waiting on the aegis of the Praetor. He found out, somehow, about the boy and how we captured him in Caledonia and used him. I could protest my treatment I suppose; I could say that I just went along with the others, that I had not done the actual capturing, and probably get a lighter sentence. As it is, I probably face a flogging and the mines in Alexandria, if not worse. I don't care.
What we did was wrong I suppose, but we've all done it before and soldiers will continue to do it again, I'm sure. The boy looked recovered to me – better than he had when Uvon and Temacus captured him, actually. I'm glad. I hope that big man takes good care of him. I hope he's happy now.
I wish I'd known his name.
THE END
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