Lilybaeum

Chapter 9

The city would have been on full alert as the fleet left the harbour, no one was walking around the usually heaving market area, town watch patrolled the streets, but as the fleet re-entered the harbour the all clear was sounded and people tentatively open their doors before getting on with their usual days. As usual the city erupted with life as soon the streets were packed with people, messengers darted around dodging in between people and carts much to the cart drivers’ anger, and of course the cart drivers started swearing at each other yet again as they always did. The Invicta became fastened to the dock and the gangplank was thrown down as the legionaries disembarked for the barracks near the centre of the city, Amellius followed down the walkway after all the thickset legionaries had left, their stomping feet clattered down the street, breaking the crowds and parting them like a knife. Several wounded men were carried of the ship by stretcher bearers the men groaned as the stretches twisted as they were taken down the gangplank. Yet some remained silent as they faced mortal injuries that could leave them crippled and out of work for the rest of their lives. It was a solemn sight to see but when each man joined the army they had to accept that there was a chance of injury or death, but it came part and parcel with joining the army in the first place.

 Centurion stared at the Praetor, the man was an animal when behind the hilt of a sword and beneath the facade of his administrative work the Praetor was a born soldier and unlike most of the members of the Senate this man would not shy away from a fight. The Praetor had also shown a cruel and dark hatred for the Carthaginians and had shown no remorse or mercy where other commanders would have done so. Yet Amellius' thinning hair completely contrasted with his well-muscled and strong arms as if he used the head of a thinker and the body of a fighter, what a strange mix thought Saturnius he had always thought it impossible to combine the two. Yet here before him was the living example, he hoped he would end up like the Praetor when he retired from his military career but somehow he couldn't see it he was far too hot headed to ever be of use on the political or administrative front, and most of all a job like that would bore him. He would leave it to better men to lead Rome he was happy being one of the men they used to do it, hopefully at the end of his service he could retire to a nice plot of land hopefully in the south of Italy or even potentially Greece.

They both moved through the crowds, it was busier than usual as it seemed everyone had come out at once rather that the slower flow that was spread out across the day which usually happened. People pushed past rushing towards that market stalls, obviously everyone was panic buying, he had seen this in all the places he had been posted to and it seemed whenever there was the remote chance or danger people spent all their coins in one go in the hope that it would help them if anything happened, it was entirely stupid in his opinion, what difference will a stick of bread make if the Carthaginians knock down your door, he chuckled. He had just had his first victory on the seas and he felt elated, little did the people appreciate what they had done, they did very little when they won and when they lost they had riots, they just couldn't win. The only way the people would appreciate the navy was if they had an astounding victory over the Carthaginians, hopefully that would happen.

Once back at the villa Amellius removed his breast plate, but as he did so he noticed a jagged tear etched into the shoulder cover, a lucky miss he thought it must have happened off a rebound. He then slipped off his chain mail undercoat, the links clinked and jangled as he placed it on it's stand. His scarlet tunic covered in dark patches where blood had spattered from the wounds he had inflicted on the Carthaginian sailors. Most of the blood had gone from his legs because of the spray that was thrown up as the Quinquereme had broken through the waves. But in places it still clung and even in some places it had clumped his leg hair like the tar covered knots that were used on the warships. Amellius quickly hurried to the bath house, he looked down at the glassy surface of the pool, grime stuck in the shape not covered by the cheek guards on his helmet, he swept it through the warm water and quickly cleaned his face. The water dripped away, now brown in colour from the dirt and smoke from the battle, it dripped into the clean water and dissipated until it was no longer visible. He removed the red tunic and let it fall and land in folds on the floor, casting shadows like hills on the mosaic floor. Man and all manner of creatures were portrayed on the smooth complex patterns on the floor, the ceiling also depicted the gods staring down on the men and creatures below and of course the person in the pool. Amellius had only just noticed this since he arrived and wondered why he hadn't looked up before, he nimbly climbed onto the pool and stared into the face of Jupiter, the features captivating. The king of the gods was shown with an immensely thick grey beard, the god had startling green eyes that showed great wisdom, his body was powerfully built and in one arm he carried a lightning bolt ready to cast down at those who displeased him. Jupiter was feared by all the other gods and his almighty power made everyone humble to him, but Amellius' favourite god was Honos the god of honour and chivalry as it was this god who portrayed the qualities all Roman citizens should possess accept in the face of the enemy where there was no room for mercy and remorse.

The heat in the pool began to build as the fire that heated the water was continually stoked throughout the day to keep a good level of warmth. Amellius had been in the pool for the rest if the afternoon he had occupied himself by watching the godly figures above. His skin had turned wrinkled by the water long ago and his fingers were completely covered in ridges, loose skin had broken off in the water leaving him smooth seemingly brand new hands but as soon as he dried it would go back to the callouses that had built up during his military career and the hours of training had had done when he was out of service. His rough hands allowed him to grasp the grip with immense strength het still leave it loose enough to balance and wield easily in his hand, that was the common downfall with many young soldiers. If they held the sword too tightly it will restrict their movements where holding it in a supple grip allows you to move to your full capacity. Yet the legionary style of fighting did not always requires complex routines and movements it was the basic block, thrust, twist and reverse pattern that worked so effectively at close quarters but it was useless in single combat.

 He had used to spar with his father, the man had been a true swordsman and had been nimble on his feet yet powerful in his upper body movements, and his balance had also been perfect. The only time he had managed to beat his father was when his was well into his old age and the skills of a lifetime gave way to the weaknesses of his twilight years. His own swordsmanship had kept him alive so far, and the nimble footwork he had learnt over the years had also won him a bit of money in tournaments when he was younger. Amellius yawned from the busy day the warm steam filling his mouth before he inhaled again, the warm air relaxing all his muscles. The darkness had built up outside and the braziers cast long shadows around the room.

 He climbed out of the pool and shrugged on a robe, the thin fabric clinging to his wet frame. Amellius nimbly crossed the courtyard his slipped on sandals slapping the ground sending echoes across the silent air. He quickly slipped off his sandals, letting his feet caress the smooth marble floor, he headed into his bed chamber and collapsed down on his bed, almost instantly he was asleep after his completely gruelling day and his unwinding time in the pool.