by C K Ruppelt
Cornelia sternly looked at her husband, folding her arms over her slightly swollen stomach.
“That means you will miss the birth of our second child. I have a feeling you only did this because you don’t want to be here when there’s no sleep to be found at night, with a new baby crying.” When Caesar cringed, his lovely Cornelia grinned from ear to ear before squeezing his shoulder.
“I am teasing, Gaius. You waited long enough for your election as quaestor. I know how much that means to you, and to our future. If I would have thought the timing through beforehand, I would have kept you out of our bedroom for a few months.” Caesar laughed, leaning over for a kiss. Cornelia moved in to hug him tightly instead.
“Do you think there will be war in Hispania? Is it peaceful there right now? It’s only been two years since the traitor senator Sertorius was killed,” Cornelia inquired, her tone very serious again.
“As far as I know, the province is quiet, and as quaestor, my focus is on the finances and the assessment of local taxes. Meaning my traveling around the province will be limited to inspections. Otherwise, I’ll sit in an office at headquarters, tallying numbers. I doubt Vetus will let me do anything else; he wants to know the numbers as soon as possible to see how much he can squeeze out of the locals for himself.”
Cornelia relaxed. “No war, that helps. I don’t want to have to deal with a new baby and worry about you fighting or being in danger again all the time,” she replied.
His mind drifted back to the present. He looked at the scroll on his desk, which contained the message. It was the second letter his mother had sent him to Hispania. The first had told him of the passing of his aunt Julia, widow of Gaius Marius. But now this. He had a hard time seeing the writing clearly, his eyes betraying him.
Childbirth had not gone well for Cornelia. His mother had explained the details, but he had stopped reading beyond the fact that both his beloved wife and their second child had died.
My whole world ended while I sat here every day, far away from you, drafting ledgers, sorting accounts and auditing these damn taxation lists.
He sat for a while in silence, not able to process the variety of emotions raging through him. Finally overcome by his inner turmoil, he wiped everything off the table. He stood up, voicing his anger at the world in a deafening, visceral scream. He grabbed his chair and threw it against the wall, picking up and throwing the bigger pieces one more time. Next, he overturned the big desk, which landed with a deep thump. He kicked one of the table legs until it broke, screaming throughout.
The door flew open and several guards rushed in, looking for the expected attackers killing their quaestor. With nobody else in the room they looked at Caesar for guidance. He held his breath. Unable to utter a word, he successfully waved them back out the door with balled fists. Alone again, he slid down the wall. The rage left as quickly as it had come, and he started to sob, laying his face into his hands and surrendering to his grief.
688 AUC (66 BC), summer
Bailenua, Free Gallia, Eastern part of the Aedui Nation
Drestan stood on the roof of the gatehouse of the town’s wall to take in the sight of the many houses illuminated in the morning’s light. Overcast, the sun had still enough power to turn the dampness of the thatched roofs into steam curling up into the sky. He was so very proud of everything they had achieved here, despite the initial challenge that had seemed rather daunting. He thought back to the endless wagon trail of five hundred families and their belongings that had made the trek east ten years ago. His first decision upon arrival had been to abandon the remains of the burned old farming town, built for convenience close to the fertile fields. A new, much more defensible location was soon found atop a gentle rise. The new fortified town had risen quickly that first year, with sixteen-foot-tall walls of timber set on earthen ramparts adding another few feet. The wall’s single gate house provided a clear view of many miles in all directions. Vesontio, a northern bastion of the Sequani nation located only twenty miles south, was the biggest threat and most likely to send raiders their way.
Ganna climbed up the ladder to the gate house’s top platform and walked over.
“Ah, my love. Glad you could join me,” Drestan greeted her. “How do you feel this morning?”
She gave him a quick kiss, stopping right next to him to look across their town. “Better, but I still feel a tingling in my side.” She put her hand over her heart to illustrate. “I am light headed just from climbing up.”
He gazed at his wife, still as beautiful as ever, and put his left arm around her lower back. He couldn’t help but worry about her. She had complained about chest pains for the best part of a week now. He decided to change the subject. “I was just reminiscing about the first years here. Remember how we were lauded as saviors when we came? And how that changed when the first summer ended abruptly in a cold spell, leaving people hungry and on short rations through the winter?”
“I thought the demands and complaints would never end,” Ganna answered with a knowing smile. “But we made it through. Purchasing extra food from traders with your own money helped everybody, and our people love you for it.”
The community and surrounding lands were now thriving. The population had skyrocketed to several thousand, with many new families joining their clan from neighboring lands to share in the town’s good fortune.
“They want me to lead more raids, now north to the Lingones. As if repercussions from raiding wasn’t what started the problems of this area in the first place.” He sighed. “I guess the new generation of our warriors does not remember the bad things the same way our older folks do.”
“Don’t forget the younger ones grew up seeing the many enemy heads you and your men brought back over the years. Or how many enslaved Aedui you freed, to the joy of the local families,” Ganna added.
“I understand that,” Drestan said, “but I have a feeling we need to keep our strength for things to come. I am uneasy about the reports the traders bring us from the lands of the Sequani.”
“You mean that the Sequani brought Germanic people from across the Rhenus? I think those must be just rumors. I can’t believe they would do such a thing,” Ganna replied.
“I don’t know. They’ve been jealous of our nation for a long time. I wouldn’t put it past them.” The Aedui held the status of Gallia’s most populous and powerful nation, with exclusive control of all trade flowing through and around their lands.
“I feel weak.” Ganna said unexpectedly. “Help me sit down, please.”
All other thoughts vanished for Drestan. He gently let her down to the rough floor of the timbered platform and sat down next to her. “Can I do something to help you?” he inquired.
But instead of answering, Ganna closed her eyes, and leaned into him. “Just hold me,” she whispered.
He sat holding her until long after he knew she had departed. Love of my life, my best friend, why did you leave me? Oh gods, why are you so cruel to us. It wasn’t time, not yet.
He continued rocking her body back and forth, looking out over the land without being able to see anything. He vaguely noticed a voice behind him. “Go get their sons and daughter,” it said.
688 AUC (66 BC), late summer
Small village thirty miles west of Tbessa, Kingdom of Numidia
There were few neighbors left now. Most of the mud houses in the village were empty and had fallen into disrepair. Everybody still living here struggled for survival; the despair was palpable.
Oz sat down on the old bench on their porch and stared at the graves twenty feet away in a wave of melancholy. The simple mounds of dirt had no means of identifying who was buried under which. But Adhe and Oz would never forget.
His mind drifted back to some of the happy days from long ago. Just six years earlier, his family had built a new well three hundred feet to the east of their house. It seemed like a lifetime ago, yet he could still feel his beloved Niptaso running up from behind to squeeze him like she so ofte
n had. The whole family had worked together for several days to dig that well, desperately needed when their old one had dried up. Niptaso and himself, his sister Salpo, her husband Mipsa, their daughter Juvo and their sons Malamsa, Sophona and little Adhe had dropped everything else to get it done while his old father Isalkis had taken care of their goat herd. Shortly after they had struck water, the dirt they all carried away in their baskets had turned into heavy mud. On one of his many trips from the main well hole, Malamsa had made it halfway to the top of the slope when Oz saw him slip and fall. Oz laughed as the fond memories flooded his mind.
Keeling over, the boy threw his basket forward while freeing his hands to catch his fall. The basket’s contents sprayed mud all over Juvo’s back. “Eew! Malamsa!” his dear niece screamed. Oz laughed so hard he dropped his own basket, spraying mud over Niptaso in the process. At that point, little Adhe bent down with a wide grin, taking some of the mud with his hands to fling it at Oz. He tried to avoid that volley, accidently pushing Mipsa sideways and making him step out and slip on the fresh mud from Oz’ own basket. The whole family ended up on the ground, laughing and flinging mud at each other, with no thought of tomorrow.
Oz smiled and cried at the same time at the flood of bittersweet memories. Will we ever find true happiness again? This empty place certainly lost the meaning it used to have when it was full of love and laughter.
He wiped his eyes when he saw Adhe coming back to the house. Now sixteen, the boy was coming of age. Once the energetic and lively youngest sibling, these days he was always quiet and subdued. Except, now he seemed to run excitedly towards Oz. Like much better times. How I wish it were so.
“Uncle, the trader just told me about the Romans recruiting Numidians as auxilia archers. I guess our bows are better than what they can build themselves,” the boy said quickly, breathing hard.
“I have seen a Roman bow up close many years ago, when I went to Tbessa as a little boy. It was made from a simple, thin piece of wood, rather weak.”
Adhe sat down close to him on their porch, and Oz continued. “My grandfather once told me that our people learned bow-making from the Carthaginians, who had brought their knowledge from Phoenicia in the east.”
He expectantly looked at the boy. “Did you get any details from the trader about what the Romans offer? I am ready to leave, there is nothing left for us here.”
“The trader said recruits get signed up for full military service in a standing legion. He also thought there may be a form of citizenship offered as part of the deal for the service.”
Adhe looked down. “I don’t see how we could make it work much longer here. Without extra meat from our hunts, we would have starved long ago.”
The boy looked back at him, and he nodded in agreement. “Where is the trader now?”
“Traveling to the next village, where he will spend the next day before heading back to Tbessa. We can catch up and ask him more details,” Adhe answered.
“Or we could go directly to Tbessa to find a Roman who can point us in the right direction,” Oz countered. It was time to leave the ghosts of their past behind.
688 AUC (66 BC), late summer
Bailenua, Free Gallia, Eastern part of the Aedui Nation
Aina was giddy with excitement. She looked at her skewed reflection in her father’s polished helm. She could make out her red tinged brown hair and her light green eyes. She was seventeen and supposed to stay at home so close to her wedding. With time on her hands, she had invited her best friends over and hoped they would arrive soon.
“Aina!” One of her father’s servants called. “Your friends are here!” She rushed out of her father’s bedroom to the common space. “Brenna! Rionach!” She shouted in greeting, before flinging herself at them for hugs.
“Did you already start drinking without us?” Brenna asked in mock incredulousness.
“What else am I supposed to do?” Aina asked back. Her two friends laughed in reply.
Aina fetched three drinking horns and went to their cellar to bring several amphorae of imported wine. The three started to drink in earnest, and before long Breanna and Rionach had caught up to Aina’s level of drunkenness.
“What color is your wedding dress?” Brenna asked Aina to interrupt Rionach’s monologue about the preferences of sword over spear in battle.
“It’s bright blue. You know, to symbolize my virginity.” They all laughed.
“I know you are a virgin, but I think that’s more about circumstances.” Brenna winked at her friend. “I am thinking about that boy in the woods a few years back. What was his name?”
“Brenna, don’t say that!” Aina burst out laughing and shook her head. “No, you’re right.”
Rionach looked around the big family room. “Where is Drestan, your father? Or all your visiting family?” she asked unexpectedly.
“Our family arrived yesterday. Father and Morcant are showing them the town and the surrounding lands,” Aina answered. “So, only Elsed and I are home today. Though I wish Bradan could be here as well,” she said with a dreamy look in her eyes.
“I am sooo jealous Aina! Your groom is such a great warrior, and so… well built... Seeing him all the time on the sparring field makes one wonder, you know.” Brenna smacked her lips loudly before laughing out loud. “Can I make you a deal? If you ever feel like sharing, I’ll pay you off with some sheep, or maybe a nice dress or a sword?”
She batted her eyelids in sincere mockery. Rionach snorted loudly, blowing some of the wine in her mouth out through her nose, followed by a loud coughing fit.
Aina laughed hard as well, punching Brenna on the arm, before patting her other friend’s back.
“If I do ever feel like sharing, you can have him for free, Brenna. But I’m warning you, that might be a loooong wait. Better bat your eyes at Elsed instead.”
Brenna’s eyes regained some focus. “You know I’m interested in Elsed, but I don’t think he even notices me.” She let her shoulders sag before turning back to Aina. “Do you think I could get any help from you with that?”
“YES! And I sure hope it works out, because I’d love to have you as a sister!” Brenna smiled and gave her a brief hug before looking at Rionach. “I know you are not interested in men, but you should still marry one, at least to get the children part over with. Once you have a couple little ones, nobody will give you grief anymore, or care about what else you do,” Aina told her, grinning widely. “Or with whom you do it.”
“Do you know any boys that you would find tolerable?” Brenna added.
“Not really, you know I can’t think of men like you two. And it’s not like I don’t get plenty of invitations to get to know some better,” Rionach said, dramatically rolling her eyes upwards. Breanna and Aina both broke back into laughter. Rionach was quite pretty with her dark-brown hair and green-flecked brown eyes, though a full head shorter than her friends. There was no shortage of hopeful suitors.
The door opened and Aina’s brother Elsed entered. Brenna squealed at his sight. A head taller than his sister, he was broad and well-muscled. His light brown eyes seemed magnetic, framed by his wavy dark-brown hair.
“Speaking of your brother….” The alcohol had taken away all her natural inhibitions, and she shamelessly let her glance wander up and down Elsed’s body. After working hard outside splitting wood with an axe, he needed clean clothes and a wash. “Elsed, do you need any help...?”
Aina punched Brenna so hard that she fell off the bench. “Brenna! That’s disgusting!”
Brenna started giggling, followed first by Rionach and then Aina. Elsed walked off, but Aina caught him giving Brenna a long and thoughtful glance over his shoulder before he walked through the inner doorway. Aina had always thought of Brenna as very attractive with her bright orange-red hair, dark green eyes and a face full of freckles. Just maybe her brother thought so as well. She grinned at her friend.
“Goodbye Elsed!” Brenna shouted after him. “See you tomorrow at the wedding!”
Aina’s thoughts drifted to her own big day. The day after tomorrow, she would no longer live in her father’s house, but move in with Bradan instead. That was the result of Bradan’s family having no other surviving siblings left in a big house with room to share. She hoped that her marriage would turn out to be a lasting one. She abhorred the current fashion of year-long marriages without signed contracts, or the quick divorces happening for all kinds of silly-seeming reasons. Fortunately, her own parents had been a good example to follow. A hint of sadness about her mother Ganna overcame her before her friends’ antics made her laugh out loud again. I wish you could be here to share this happy time with me.
***
Overcast and gloomy. Of course, it would have to be, but she decided to ignore the weather on this happiest day of her life. As she walked to the sacred grove, she saw the druid and several of his helpers already waiting near the sacrificial altar. Aina and her family approached the sacred grove from the north, while Bradan’s family did from the south. Aina walked ahead, with her older brother Elsed to her right, her father Drestan to her left, her younger brother Morcant just behind.
There he is, and he can see me now. She stared across the grove at her husband to be. Bradan was an enigma. He was so strong, yet also lithe. He could be silly, a dare-devil, yet also smart and understanding. Most of all, he seemed just as compassionate to those around him as she was. That more than anything else had drawn her to him. Well, his good looks hadn’t hurt. Nearly as tall as her brother Elsed, he had short dark-blond hair and bright blue eyes to drown in.
They came close to the center before she glanced at the despised old altar with its dark bloodstains reminiscent of countless human sacrifices. She vividly remembered the last one, a melancholy and willing highborn son of a friend of her father. The summers’ drought had threatened a winter without food, resulting in the druids calling for a sacrifice to Toutates, the chosen chief protector of most Celtic clans and tribes. His wrists bound, he had been laid on the altar and cut into, the blood flowing freely across the stone into a bucket. As the boy had become light headed from the blood loss, the druid had pushed his head into a bucket of water, holding tight until the drowning was complete. Two days later the drought had vanished, and the harvest had recovered fully.
