From Darkness

by C K Ruppelt

  Numerius glanced at a movement to his right and saw a legionary from the second rank hastily step over their centurion’s wide helmet plume on the ground. His heart dropped. He had always liked and admired the man. Merda, don’t think about that now, there is nothing I can do.

  He tried hard to concentrate on keeping his movements steady and put the fate of his superior out of his mind. Left foot in front, shove and brace with his right. Open shield. Stab. Close. And again.

  His entire line kept moving forward. Slow and steady.

  ***

  Caesar had thought the Ninth’s call to advance a risky move, but silently commended Cotta for his initiative when he saw how successful the counter push turned out. Now it’s time to send Hirtius to Cotta with new orders, and for me to inform the Seventh.

  “Are you absolutely clear on what I want done?” he asked Hirtius and Labienus.

  “Yes,” they both answered in unison.

  “Very well, let’s go.” He jumped off the boulder and ran ahead of his lictors to their horses. Hirtius sprinted by him with reckless abandon. As he mounted his horse, Labienus peeled off for the Tenth, positioned next to the Ninth’s southern end and currently joining into the fray by letting their closest men throw their pila into the Helvetii masses.

  A staccato of loud banging noises came from behind him, followed by the rushing noises created by nearly four hundred oversized scorpio arrows. Finally! The artillery is getting in on the action.

  Caesar reached his nephew Quintus Pedius and the Seventh. “We need to follow what the Tenth does. When they move, attach the Seventh to their end to extend the line between the Helvetii and their wagons.” He looked over the Roman lines at the Helvetii masses. Where the massive scorpio bolts hit, the force was enough to down several warriors at once.

  The next move was up to Labienus and the Tenth. Caesar saw the entire length of the Tenth rotate, using the connection with the Ninth as their hinge point and successfully pushing the Helvetii back where the line was already engaged with the enemy. Good man, just like I asked.

  The legionaries of the Seventh trailed the Tenth, which came to a stop once it faced the enemy and another tall hill in the distance, cutting right between the Helvetii and their baggage train which was now behind both legions. Let’s hope the rest goes as smoothly.

  ***

  The chaos around him was complete. Divico saw the oversized Roman bolts hit his warriors with incredible force, shot from somewhere close to the top of the hill. How did they set these up so quickly? I knew their cavalry attack was meant to buy time, but it wasn’t for long.

  He saw grim faces all around him, many of his men losing some of their determination. “Divico, Divico!” came from his right. He turned to see Bricio pushing through the Helvetii warriors. “They are trying to cut us off!” his protégé screamed over the cacophony of noise. “We need to secure the baggage train!” Divico looked back to their wagon fort and saw the Roman line finish its rotation right into the empty space. How are they doing this? Fifty years ago, the Romans I faced then were not as organized as this.

  “Take as many as you can and go, keep the wagons secure!” Divico shouted back, waving him on to take off. One of the scorpio missiles crashed right into the warriors in front of Bricio, and the people hit by the bolt bowled over several bystanders, the young councilor included. A moment later, the men and women not directly hit scrambled back up, and he saw Bricio dust himself off before running and screaming in passing at chiefs and warriors to follow him. A good number rallied and took off to flank the end of the Roman line. Pray they can hold out until we are done with the Romans in front of us.

  “Keep pushing! Focus on one point and punch through their line!” he screamed at his people and their chieftains in frustration.

  ***

  Caesar rode with Quintus Pedius and the Seventh, now marching to attach their line to the open end of the Tenth. The closest soldiers arrived just after a party of maybe ten thousand warriors rushed out from behind the Tenth to run for the baggage train. Let them, that’s not nearly enough to change the outcome.

  The Seventh’s legionaries kept extending the line out as they arrived, blocking the path for an easy retreat for any more of the Helvetii. Caesar was close to the center of the legion and had a good view of the enemy when the Roman artillery commanders decided to open fire with the heavy ballista bolts and heavy catapult rocks. That means that most of our one hundred eighty artillery pieces are in place since the artillerymen usually compete with each other to get things set up at a rapid pace.

  The height advantage made the first shots go wide, but the specialists homed in on the enemy host with their second and third barrages. Where the big rocks hit the tightly packed masses, the path of destruction was devastating. This must wreak havoc on their morale. Yes, the first ones are already moving away from our hill.

  He could tell that the rush of survivors from around the impacts pushed the other Helvetii into complete panic, and soon the entire force started to disengage. By the time the artillery shot their tenth barrage the Helvetii were in complete retreat. It’s working! They can’t see a clear path to their wagons anymore, so they’re heading for the hill behind them instead.

  Caesar raised his fist in satisfaction and watched until the first of the Helvetii reached the hillside in the distance. “Have the Seventh turn around. We’re going for the baggage train,” he told Pedius. “I need messengers here!” he yelled next, waiting for several men to come running. “You two, bring word to the legates of the Ninth and Tenth to join the Seventh against the wagons, and you there, tell the Eighth to follow the main enemy forces to their hill.

  “You, go to the legates of the Eleventh and Twelfth and tell them I want them supporting the Eighth in pinning down the Helvetii host against the far hill, and you, first go tell tribune Crassus to take the Celtic cavalry and support the Eighth, and then tell the Archers and Slingers to join us against the wagons. Now run!”

  ***

  It was evening, with little daylight left. “Our food problems are finally solved, at least for now,” Seppius commented to Balventius while they walked around the enemy camp, taken in a last push a short time ago. Many of the captured wagons were full of fresh grains and produce.

  “I am wondering about all those beautiful Gallic horses. Have you ever seen such a sight?” Balventius mused. The amount of hobbled horses looked to be at least thirty thousand, maybe more. They walked on past another set of wagons and finally came upon a big group of officers. “Ah, here they are.”

  Titus Labienus, Quintus Pedius and Lucius Aurunculeius Cotta stood in the middle of their cohort prefects and centurions, animatedly in discussion. “Have your men walk the captives up the hill. The nobles we caught, including councilor Bricio, should ride in the first wagons.” Labienus told Cotta. “Pedius and I will follow the proconsul to the hill the Helvetii hold, and we’ll be quick about it. He already took the Cretans and the slingers, should the Numidians go as well?”

  “I would like them to ride escort for the wagons and the captives. Their drawn bows will do more to deter them from escaping than our tired legionaries,” Cotta replied.

  “Very well, it’s decided then. Your Ninth took the brunt of the original attack, so they’re in charge of bringing all of this up to our hill fortification,” Labienus stated. “The Seventh and Tenth will march quick step to support Caesar.” The Tenth’s commander paused to examine the faces around him, many nodded in agreement. “Dismissed!”

  Balventius turned to Opiter Maximus who stood nearby. “Hey, Opiter, nice to be a wagon driver for a change, aye?”

  The fellow centurion responded with a laugh. “If you’re game, we can make it into a race. I have an eye for which team of oxen is going to be faster!”

  Balventius laughed and turned forward to where Capussia and Oz stood between Maximus and Pullo, both amused and chuckling. I need to give Maximus credit for completely changing his attitude about the non-Roman soldiers
. I would have never thought that possible.

  He was surprised to find that he now very much liked the crude man.

  ***

  What is he doing? The cornua and tubae of the Eighth had just sounded the command to attack, meant to command the Eighth to pursue the Helvetii down from the hill. It was early morning, and after a whole night of relentless fighting, their enemy had broken, the warriors rushing down the backside of the hill in small bands and groups.

  Caesar ran after Vatinius. “Let them go! Let them go!” he shouted, finally close enough to be heard.

  The legate turned to show Caesar a haughty and annoyed look, though when the man realized who had shouted, Vatinius’ face turned blank. “Proconsul! Why should we stop now? If we go after them we can kill many more thousands,” he replied.

  “I know, and I am tempted myself, but Rome needs them alive and back in their mountains where they can keep the Germanic tribes out. Think about it,” Caesar explained between breaths, his chest still heaving from the fast run.

  Vatinius raised an eyebrow in response before he turned to issue the command for retreat. The chase stopped, and the legionaries of the Eighth turned back.

  “For now, they will try to leave the lands of the Aedui as fast as they can. If they keep the current direction, they will run northeast to the Lingones. I’ll have messengers sent to them asking to deny assistance to the Helvetii.” Caesar smiled. “These warriors lost everything today. Their families, their possessions, their supplies, and their pride. We only need to follow them to get the kind of official surrender I want.” Which will produce a document as unalterable proof of success to keep my enemies in the Senate at bay.

  696 AUC (58 BC), late summer

  Clusium, Etruria, Italia

  Velia studied the mosaics on the walls of the atrium. She had seen them hundreds of times and used to look away in disgust, though now she felt no emotion toward them anymore. She marveled instead at the incredible craftsmanship that had gone into putting together the small stones and pieces of tile to depict all the possible, and some surely impossible, sexual positions, achieved with grossly oversized genitalia as if to elevate the detail. Since her failed attempt at escape a few weeks ago she had been cold and uncaring to the world around her. Even Titia’s attempts at conversation bothered her, she would engage for a sentence or two in the hope of being left alone. Explaining to Titia that she was not feeling or caring anything made things worse however, her friend seemed alarmed and didn’t back off despite Velia pushing her away. Can’t she just leave me alone? Even my hate for Fastie and Minatus is meaningless now, I am dead inside.

  Fastie’s punishment after her failed escape had been brutal, meant to inflict maximum pain without leaving scars. He was always careful not to inflict visual damage on the women, they were moneymaking investments after all. She had patiently suffered through it all until he added what he called a valuable lesson, making her watch as he beat and mistreated Velthurus. That was the worst thing he ever did to me, making me believe the pain he inflicts on the boy is my fault, and somehow, I think that it’s true.

  Velia had expected to receive a tattoo similar to the boy’s, instead Fastie merely fastened a bronze band around her neck, engraved on front and back in Latin with “I have run away. Bring me back to my master Fastius at the Lupanar for a reward.”

  And then one morning, Fastie had released her from his room and sent her back to work. As a lasting reminder, knowing how precious the boy had become to her, he also moved Velthurus to the hallway on the other side of the building. The only time she saw him now were the mornings.

  Velia walked along the atrium wall’s mosaics and absently fingered her neckband when she heard somebody breathing close behind her. Somebody had walked up without her noticing. She sighed.

  “Are you Velia?”

  She turned around to look at the man. He was muscular and would have been quite handsome if not for the air of toughness and danger about him. On the skin outside the standard off-white toga, the sign of a freeborn Roman citizen, visible scars marred the man’s face, neck and arms. She involuntarily stepped back, her eyes now focusing on his milky white right eye. She frowned at her own bad manners and proceeded to look down in embarrassment. That’s when she noticed that the front portion of his right military-style, calf-high sandal was empty, half his foot was missing. She swallowed hard before answering. “Yes, I am Velia. How can I help you?”

  The man looked to the front door, then back at her.

  “I am a friend, and I would like to talk to you, but not here. Which of your services will keep us in your room the longest?”

  Velia took a step back. It wasn’t just his hard looks. She felt in her gut how dangerous this man was, the fear cutting through her lethargy. Leave me alone.

  He stepped forward to close the distance but stopped short with a quizzical look. “You don’t have to be afraid of me, I only want to talk, I promise,” he said in a low voice. “Just tell me what I need to pay for so we can go to your room.”

  Velia hesitated, searching the man’s face for a sign. When he showed her his oddly endearing lopsided smile she felt it to be honest and nodded to the front of the room. “Just tell the manager you want the full treatment for eight sesterces.”

  Her eyes followed the man back to Fastie’s counter near the entry. The stranger ambled over as if he didn’t have a care in the world, but she could tell it was for show. Under that exterior was a man wound tight and ready to explode. She saw him put coins on the wooden surface, point back at her and return. She took a deep breath. “Follow me,” she said before taking him by the hand through the hallway and into her room. She gestured to the bed before closing the curtain behind her.

  “Why don’t you sit down first. Please,” the man said while he remained standing. He waited until she plopped down on her bed before he sat down next to her. She had felt uneasy with him in the room and now was close to screaming for help with him so close. He started to whisper. “Your friend Lethie told me where to find you. A nice woman, with great concern for you.” He cleared his throat. “Now tell me everything that happened since you sent your letter to your brother Numerius. My name is Gaius Blandius. I am with the Ninth Legion and I am here to help.” Velia suddenly changed her mind about the scary man, she couldn’t believe what difference those few words had made.

  ***

  “Hello, I am here because I need a loan,” Blandius told the bouncer at the door. “This is the lender Minatus’ office, right?” The man stepped back and nodded for him to enter the office. He shuffled in, dragging his bad right foot all the way until he stood waiting, hunched over, in the middle of the room.

  “Why do you need money?” a clerk asked him from behind a counter to his left.

  “To open a business.” Blandius looked around as if worried about who was listening. “Maybe not the kind of business I should talk about in public, but it’s lucrative.” He laughed. “Very lucrative.”

  “Very well. Let me check if Minatus will see you now or if you need to come back later,” the clerk said and got out from behind the counter. “Wait here.” Blandius took the opportunity to smile at the bouncer. The man gave him a bored look before ignoring him. So far, this is working better than expected. I am just another harmless fellow, easily taken advantage of.

  The clerk came back into the main room. “He will see you, just go right in.”

  “Thank you.” He shuffled through the door into Minatus’ office, who looked up from the papers on his desk. The man smoothed some of his orange-blond hair, while trying to read what type of customer Blandius was. “Sit down, please,” Minatus said with a warm smile, gesturing to the chairs in front of his desk. “My clerk tells me you are in need of a loan. I can certainly help with that, though depending on your kind of business, I might be able to do more than just give you money. I have the best contacts.”

  Blandius eagerly leaned forward to pull a long knife from beneath his toga before toppling a chair
over in his rush to get past the desk where he pointed the tip at Minatus throat.

  “Well, I lied, I don’t need a loan. I am here to pay one off instead. Hold still and hear me out, or I’ll slit your throat and ask your clerk instead. Your choice,” Blandius said coolly.

  Minatus’ shock was plain to see in his wide eyes. Looks like I played the polite cripple well enough. Surprise.

  The bouncer had heard the commotion and came to the office’s door. “Everything fine, boss?”

  Blandius had been careful to keep the knife out of sight from the doorway. He saw Minatus hesitate and leaned forward to whisper. “I know what you did with Velia Churinas. Better tell him everything is fine,” he hissed, moving the knife closer and closer to the man’s throat until a small drop of blood ran down into Minatus’ tunic.

  The money lender swallowed hard. “Everything is fine. Go back and guard the front door,” he told his man.

  Blandius waited until the bouncer had left. “Good, that just saved your life. As I said, I know what you did with Velia. Too bad for you that she has a brother in the Ninth Legion.” Minatus sat back in response, trying to get away from the tip of the knife. “Yes, I see you realize what that means. I am a veteran, and I am sure you’ve heard some of the common stories told about us legionaries. The ones like me that survive a few battles love to kill, just so we can count the bodies afterward. So, better not mess with me.”