“We’d rather see your filthy shield and your sword spotted with British blood.”

“Is it true,” one of them asked, “that Romans bathe in hot water and lose their manhood that way?”

“It’s true,” answered another. “That’s why the women in Rome sleep with their slaves. Their Emperor had to kill his own wife for whoring in that way.”

There was sufficient truth in their insults for me to be angry.

“I can take jokes from my friends,” I said, “when they are full of beer and stolen meat, but I can’t have you speaking disrespectfully of the Emperor of Rome.”

They glanced maliciously at each other.

“Let’s wrestle with him,” they suggested. “Then we’ll see if he’s lost his eggs in hot water like other Romans.”

I saw that they were deliberately seeking a quarrel, but it was difficult for me to withdraw after they had insulted Emperor Claudius. When they had egged each other on for a while, the boldest of them rushed at me as if to wrestle with me, but in fact to hit me as hard as he could with his fists. Wresding is part of the legion exercises. So it was not difficult to make a stand, especially as he was much more drunk than I. I threw him onto his back and put my foot on his neck when he struggled instead of admitting defeat. Then they all fell on me to a man and pinned me to the ground with a firm grip on my arms and legs.

“What shall we do with the Roman?” they asked each other. “Perhaps we should slit open his stomach and see what his intestines foretell?”

“Let’s geld him to stop him running after our girls like an old hare,” suggested one.

“Best to throw him on the fire,” said another, “then we’ll see how much heat a Roman can bear.”

I was uncertain whether they were serious or just wished to frighten me in a drunken way. Anyhow, they beat me in no joking manner, but my pride prevented me from crying for help. They spurred each other on into a rage until I seriously began to fear for my life.

Suddenly they fell silent and stood back. I saw Lugunda coming toward me. She stopped and put her head on one side.

“I like seeing a Roman lying humiliated and helpless on the ground,” she said mockingly. “I’d like to tickle your skin with the point of a knife if I weren’t forbidden to besmirch myself with human blood.”

 

 

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She struck her tongue out at me and then turned to the youths, whom she knew by name, “Don’t kill him though,” she said. “That only leads to revenge. Cut me a birch switch instead and turn him over on his stomach and hold on to him properly. I’ll show you how to handle Romans.”

The youths were glad not to have to decide what to do with me. They quickly fetched switches and tore off my clothes. Lugunda stepped up close and gave me a rap on the back with the switch, at first carefully as if testing it out, and then mercilessly with all her strength. I clenched my teeth and uttered not a sound. This egged her on to beat me in a fury, so that my body jerked and trembled on the ground and tears forced their way into my eyes.

Finally her arm tired and she threw away the switch. “There, Minutus the Roman,” she cried. “Now we’re quits.”

The youths holding me let go and backed away cautiously with their fists up, for fear I should attack them. My head was throbbing, my nose bleeding and my back on fire, but I stood silently licking the blood from my lips. There must have been something about me that frightened them, for they stopped mocking me and let me pass. I picked up my torn clothes and walked away, but not toward the house. I walked aimlessly in the moonlit forest and thought dimly that it was fortunate for all of us that no one had witnessed my ignominy. I could not walk far. I soon began to stumble and I sank to the ground on a narrow mossy hillock. Shortly afterwards the youths kicked out their fire and I heard them whistling for their chariots and driving away so that the ground thundered beneath their wheels.

The moonlight was frighteningly clear and the shadows in the forest horribly black. I wiped the blood off my face with a handful of moss and called on my lion.

“Lion, are you there?” I cried. “If so, roar and go after them. Otherwise I’ll never believe in you again.”

But I did not even see the shadow of my lion. Instead I was totally alone, until Lugunda came creeping cautiously, pushing aside the branches as she looked for me. Her face was white in the moonlight. When she saw me, she came up to me with her hands behind her back.

“How do you feel?” she asked. “Did it hurt? You deserved it.”

I was seized with a wild desire to take hold of her slim neck, throw her to the ground and lacerate her as I had been lacerated. But I controlled myself, knowing that nothing would be gained that way. But I could not help asking if she had arranged it all.

 

 

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