Marius sat in the tavern with a selection of other lower ranking officers and listened to the usual gripes and moans familiar across the Empire. He sat back and enjoyed being with men of his own rank and social class. As the men around him became drunker and more loose-lipped, he answered their questions about Junius, Parthia and Syria. He drank quite a lot of the strong, vinegar-flavoured wine, but in comparison to his new friends, he was holding back in order to gather as much information as he could.
At first they were reluctant to talk about Salinae, but eventually with the wine flowing, they began to open up to Marius. Though none had been there, they were wary and reluctant to be assigned to the fort.
“They only patrol at night now,” a centurion told him. “The mushrooms close up then, you see. So it’s safe. The men sleep during the day and only a skeleton staff man the garrison in the daylight hours.”
The rest nodded.
“Crazy, but it’s what the commander of the auxiliary unit ordered. They’re Thracians, hard bunch, cross you as soon as look at you. But they know their stuff.”
Another man, a double pay officer, leant forward. “At least the Roxlani have gone for the moment, they’re tough as well. If they’re scared, then you’d better be.”
The men nodded sagely in agreement.
“I spoke to one of the men who went up with that tribune. He said it was quiet, like it was abandoned. Then at night they all woke up and did their duties and training in the darkness, with only a few torches to help them see.”
Another one butted in. “And the vicus was more active as well, didn’t he say?”
Marius listened to them as the words and comments came spilling out now the wine had loosened their tongues. “Has anyone seen the fungus?” he asked.
None of them had, but an older man with only a few more years left to serve spoke up.
“This mushroom, the one causing all the problems. It’s around here as well.” He glanced at the others who murmured their agreement and someone poured more wine. “There are people here with the illness. Most of them just disappear, go mad and run off into the woods. A few recover, but it takes a while.”
Marius was curious. “What happens to the rest?” The men were silent, not looking at him.
Finally one answered. “Like the first lot who were infected, they kill themselves by running off. You can’t stop them, they’re raving and strong like mad things. Pale and sickly, it’s almost a kindness.”
“That’s right,” the old centurion said. “It’s better they die when they get like that.”
Marius was about to ask another question when a new soldier wandered in and seeing the group of men shouted over and burst into song. The men with Marius forgot all about their conversation and joined in. But Marius had heard enough; he now had a horrible feeling that he knew what they were dealing with and he didn’t like it.