“You should be very proud of yourselves,” the man said as he removed his plumed helmet and placed it under a thick arm. He was built like a bull, short, stout, and with limbs the size of tree trunks. His face was hard, his jaw wide, and his skin etched with years of difficulty. There was an old, yet deep, scar on his right cheek and his voice was as low and rough as any I’d ever heard. He didn’t appear noble, but his presence demanded respect. “I know that none of you has marched under the standard before, but you have conducted yourselves as soldiers and have learned the ways of the warrior very quickly. Whether you know it or not, you are entering into a very different military than the one your ancestors served in. These past years, I have labored to reform our military and to use the strength of Roman arms to the best of our ability. Many said it couldn’t be done. A great deal of naysayers in the Senate House still balk at the idea of altering the ancient methods of fighting, yet they know nothing of the battlefield. I do.” He paused to cough into his arm. “You have proven my convictions by assimilating quickly, and I have no doubt that you will one day stand as the greatest Roman force the world has ever known.” I remember my heart swelling with pride in that moment. In the back of my mind, I thought of my father and grandfather and how they would have clapped me on the shoulder and congratulated me. Every back in the ranks straighten.
“Many of you are wondering who I am, but you have doubtless heard my name. I am your consul … General Gaius Marius.” There were audible gasps from our ranks. This man was a legend in Rome. He’d been away defeating the rebel-king Jugurtha, yet his name was whispered with hope and praise throughout Italy. Now I recognized him as the one whose powerful image was drawn in graffiti on every wall in Rome. He’d been rumored to be returning after war season ended, particularly for the festival of the October Horse, yet none of us had imagined he would come to see us. “I have been fighting in foreign lands for years and have had to entrust your training and development to my colleagues. That has been mentally taxing for me, because there is nothing I take more pride in than commanding fine young soldiers. Yet I am relieved to see you are where you need to be.
“You may be disappointed that the war in Africa is nearly over; however, you will not have to wait long to wet your swords with blood. There will be hard fighting ahead—that much I promise. Continue to prepare yourself for what lies ahead and do not ever doubt that what you are learning will be put to the test. Your work today will predict whether you and your comrades will live or die tomorrow.” A sudden smile on his lips, he turned to Septimius. “Do you mind if I lead it?”
“By all means, Consul.” Our instructor bowed; he was far more cordial today than we had ever seen him.
“Jupiter!” The consul’s voice erupted like Vulcan’s flame.
“Optimus!” We replied as we had done since the first day, praising the God of War for preparing our swords.
“Jupiter!”
“Maximus!”
“Jupiter!”
“Optimus!” We hoisted our swords in the air as Marius held his fist aloft. As he dropped his arm, we began to beat our gladii against our shields violently, letting out a chorus of shouts that would have sown fear into the hearts of the fiercest of enemies. I truly believe that this moment of passion has lasted my entire life. The flame that was lit that day has never died; for good or bad, Marius made good on his promise. My blade hasn’t dried since.
I STEPPED AWAY with the rest of my century, wiping the sweat from my brow and congratulating some of my men, when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to find my instructor Septimius behind me. My heart began to race again, although his face was calm.
“Sir,” I snapped to attention and waited to be addressed.
“It’s your lucky day, soldier. General Gaius Marius would have a word with you. You are to report to him at once.” He pointed to a tent at the far end of the Field of Mars, the sacred grounds where Roman soldiers had trained since the founding. Two lictors were posted in front of it.
“Right away, sir.” I gave a proper salute and turned on my heels, not knowing what could have caused Marius to wish to speak with me. My knees felt weak.
I hurried across the open field, ignoring the catcalls of my men and trying to prepare what I might say. When I arrived, the lictors stood aside, and one of them opened up the leather tent flap with the back of his arm. They both eyed me curiously as I stepped through, keeping my eyes fixed and my resolve firm.
Before being addressed or even scanning the faces in the room, I snapped to attention and gave the most powerful salute I could muster.
“Sir—Lucius Hirtuleius reporting, sir.”
“At ease, soldier,” Marius replied from the table before me. I allowed my eyes to lower to meet his, then looked around the room at the men gathered. I suddenly became aware of how sweaty I was and of the mud streaking my legs.
“I will introduce you. This is my brother-in-law Gaius Julius Caesar.”
“Call me Julius,” the handsome man said. Fair-skinned and with golden hair, he appeared in every way a noble. “My brother will be joining us shortly. He might be my elder but you can call him by his first name, too. Sextus—he’s not much for tradition.”
“This is Gaius Norbanus,” Marius continued.
“And you can call me Norbanus.” He bowed sarcastically. “I’m not much for tradition either, but about half the men in Rome are named Gaius, so let’s just keep it simple, eh?”
“And this is Gnaeus Mallius Maximus.” The man stood and shook my hand, looking me in the eye.
“I am happy to make your acquaintance, Lucius.” Maximus was a handsome man and the tallest in the room. I could tell by the way he addressed me that he didn’t have the impressive lineage of the others, but still there was a silent nobility to him.
“And finally, this is my good friend Publius Rutilius Rufus, who has served with me for what feels like a lifetime. It was Rufus here who brought you to my attention. While I’ve been in Africa fighting with Norbanus and Julius, he’s been here ensuring that the military reforms move forward and that our new soldiers are strong and prepared.”
“You caught my eye a while ago, initiate. You have made yourself known through your discipline and attitude, not to mention your performance,” said Rufus, raising an eyebrow slightly.
“I am honored, sir. I hadn’t realized I’d done anything out of the ordinary. I simply wish to serve my country.” I stumbled over the words. I never was much of a talker—especially compared to Sertorius—and I was sure my inadequacies were evident to all.
“That desire is extraordinary in today’s day and age, initiate, and don’t let the politicians tell you otherwise. So few men truly care about the state.” Rufus’s voice was heavy and held little expression. In fact, he exuded stoicism.
“Take a seat.” Marius gestured to the single chair before his desk. The stool had no back, so I found myself sitting at attention, with my shoulders back, chest out, and chin up. This seemed to amuse the general’s friends—or else something did, because they exchanged glances and chuckled quietly.
“I am not one to give compliments so quickly, soldier, as these men can attest.” Marius says to more laughter. “But I will admit that I am very impressed by you and your class of recruits. You handled yourself well out there. I have half a mind to ask you where you served previously, but your instructor tells me you’ve never wielded a sword before.”
“No, sir, I haven’t. But I plan on doing so until fate takes me.”
“You and I are of one mind. I have no doubt, then, that we will share the same fate. But I must ask—why did you form a wedge before continuing the final assault on the ‘Germans’?” He cocked his head and rubbed at the stubble on his chin.
“I looked at their equipment, sir. With mostly ranged weapons and without durable shields I didn’t believe they would be able to withstand the wedge if it was coupled with shock tactics.” The reply came as I’d intended, despite my nerves. The general looked to his f
riends with raised eyebrows. I couldn’t really discern what this meant.
“I like that. What is your training routine for the rest of the evening?”
“I believe we are set to continue our work with marching drills in full kit.”
“And how do you march?”
“Well enough, I believe, sir.”
“Good. I’ll let Septimius know you’ll be with me this evening. These gentlemen and I are going to Ostia for a drink. We’d have you join us.” He stood.
“With you, sir?” I’m afraid I wasn’t able to hide my astonishment. “Certainly, sir.”
He made his way to me and gave something of a grunt laugh. “That was an order.” He clapped me on the back and led the way out of the tent.
I STILL REMEMBER how cold the air was that October evening. I have a natural affinity for the cold due to my upbringing in Nursia, and my recent training had exposed me even further to the elements, but there was a nip in the air that hurt my lungs when I breathed.
As we left the Field of Mars, I tried to walk behind the men as a sign of my immense appreciation for the invitation and that I understood my place, but the general continually slowed his pace to walk at my side.
“So, how does that helmet feel on your head?” He put his arm around my shoulders and directed his lictors to clear the way before us.
“Well enough, sir.” It was a lie, which I’m ashamed to admit. That oversized hunk of metal chafed my forehead awfully.
“Cac! You look like a natural, but I remember the first time I donned one. I was serving in Spain under Scipio Aemilianus. I’d always wanted to be a soldier, but the first time I tried on that gear I was quick to change my mind.”
I remember that as we walked I could see the breath of every member of Marius’s cortege. Most of them were wrapped in woolen cloaks, but I had only my soldier’s cape and Marius wore little more. I assumed it was a display of his toughness and endurance.
“Consul, where are we going exactly?” one of them asked.
“Damned if I know the taverns in Ostia! Maximus, you’re from Ostia—do you have any ideas?”
“I can’t say that I do. I’m not a drinking man, Marius.”
“I’m not from Ostia by any means, but I know every damned drinking establishment within thirty miles of Rome. I’ll set us up right,” said Gaius Norbanus.
Marius returned to his pleasant memories of his first days as a soldier and the time he was a trainee like me. I listened as best I could, but I’ll admit I wondered what this was all about and why I was even there.
“And Rome?” he asked, catching me off guard.
“What, sir?”
“What of Rome? How do you like it? As a provincial, I’m sure it has been an adjustment. I found this city absurd when I first came here after being raised in Arpinum.” How he knew my background was beyond me.
“I can’t say that I’ve experienced it much yet, sir. I moved into a villa in the Subura, but I kept mostly to myself until I joined up with the Colors. I haven’t been back since.” When we reached the town walls of Ostia, we were stopped by two sentries.
“Sorry, Consul, no soldier’s capes or helmets in Ostia, even for you,” one of the guards said nervously, trying to ignore the intimidating looks the lictors were giving him. Marius removed his plumed helmet, revealing a sweaty head with little hair. I followed his example, feeling the cold air strike my arms as I removed my cape.
“I’m sure no harm will come to our gear under your command—right, soldier? Keep in mind that that helmet outranks you, so don’t touch it,” Marius said as he entered the gate.
“If we head down this road here, there is a fine establishment run by some Egyptian. It has the cheapest wine and most exotic whores from here to Capua,” Norbanus said as we neared the Ostian Forum.
“We won’t be taking whores, you dog, and money isn’t a problem. But lead on,” Marius said, grinning coyly as he pushed Norbanus forward.
The group halted as the chief lictor approached the wooden doors of the tavern.
“Clear out! Clear out, I say! Make way for Consul Gaius Marius!” he shouted as he slammed the butt of his fasces into the ground. There were quiet gasps from those inside and some anxious whispers before they all piled out. The bawdy crew that passed us by looked on with wild eyes and toothless grins—some of them shouting out praise to Marius, who simply responded with a nod and a wave.
“Consul! I am honored to have you here.” The Numidian proprietor gave an exaggerated bow.
“Leave off it, man. Just bring us some wine,” Norbanus replied impatiently. He waved to the tables before us, as if he were the host. The lictors pushed the abandoned plates of food and cups of wine—full or empty—onto the floor to make a place for the consul.
“All right, all right. Now go wait outside,” Marius ordered. The lictors shrugged and left.
“Take your whores elsewhere, Egyptian. They are a disgrace before the consul,” Maximus growled with displeasure. The Egyptian shooed the girls away as Norbanus shot Maximus a look of ire.
“A disgrace? They are the Consul’s people, too,” Norbanus said, eying the girls as they passed.
“Sit, all of you. Sit,” Marius said, taking his place first. “You sit here.” He directed me to the seat beside him.
The Egyptian arrived at the table with a large amphora of wine.
“I hope it’s unwatered. That’s how I want it tonight,” said Marius, raising his voice above the noise.
“One of those conversations, eh?” Julius said, raising an eyebrow mischievously. “You’ll receive no complaints from me.”
“I’d have it no other way. I need a few real drops to warm me up,” Norbanus said.
Maximus waved off the Egyptian reaching for his cup. “None for me, thank you.”
“What? Come on, man. We’ve just arrived back in Rome from a prosperous war season. Make time to celebrate!” Norbanus put his arm around him. “Not to mention it makes me uncomfortable to partake while another man sits dry.”
“You know I don’t drink, Norbanus. You should have seen what wine did to my father. So I’ll not, thank you. But you’ll receive no judgment from me,” said Maximus in return, and he placed his arm around Norbanus, too.
“Perhaps you’d like to order some goat’s milk?” Marius grinned, as the table erupted in laughter. I joined in, but I wasn’t keen to offend the man. Luckily, Maximus smiled and shrugged it off.
“I’ll take a willow-water instead, thank you.”
“But in all seriousness, this conversation does need strong drink, and I wanted to set up my friend here with a nice drop.” Marius patted my arm. His hands were heavy like mallets and as rough as old leather.
“Did I hear someone say strong drink?” came a loud voice behind us. We turned to see another man walking in with a long gait and his arms outstretched. He moved with so much bounce that it seemed his legs were made of liquid rather than flesh and sinew.
“Sextus! How good of you to meet us,” his brother Julius said, rising to embrace him.
“To see you buggers? Bah! I had no idea you would be here. I was just coming to get drunk and penetrate something.” Guffaws erupted as Sextus took his seat. He wore a mischievous smile as he scanned the table, his eyes locking on me. “And who is this, then?”
“This is Lucius Hirtuleius, Rome’s newest legionnaire.”
“What an honor, eh? For an initiate to dine with the Republic’s finest men,” he said before I could murmur the proper acknowledgments. He was grinning slyly, and the way he looked at me was unnerving—as if he knew a great deal that I did not. And perhaps he did.
“This is neither an honor nor a favor,” Marius said sternly. “I have brought Hirtuleius here today with orders.” My heart dropped into my stomach, and I felt my face color like a soldier’s cloak. What kind of soldier receives his orders in a tavern in Ostia? “Gentlemen, things are about to change. Rome is in a period of transition.” Marius got to his feet and began pacing b
ack and forth before the table, his arms moving passionately as if he were preparing his men before a battle. “The Senate and Rome’s fat nobility are gorging themselves on the blood of the Republic, and I’m not so sure this great state will survive many more attacks from the likes of Jugurtha.”
“Marius!” Sextus began to say before pausing to laugh. “All due respect, your highness, but you cannot possibly believe an African scoundrel like Jugurtha could ever truly harm Rome? Not to mention that Rome desired this war and did everything but cause it.”
Marius thought for a moment. “What you say, my friend, is correct. There will always be power-hungry renegades that seek what Rome has, but that is not my point. The optimates, the old families, are a greater danger to Rome than any outside threat. It isn’t Jugurtha or those like him that threaten Rome, but the bribes they offer the greedy, incompetent leadership, who sell their city and their very souls for a few gold coins. The Cimbri and Teutones are frightening too, but they hold not a tenth of the power to harm Rome that the Senate has.” This time, no laughter followed.
“So it’s revolution you advocate? You want to join the bloated corpses of the Gracchi in the Tiber River?” Julius said, taking a long pull of purple wine.
“Revolution. What messy business.” Norbanus winked at Marius.
“Call it what you like. But that’s not the word I would use. I’ll bring no swords to the Senate House. I’m saying that we pursue our legal rights as Romans, of procuring power in the legal way, to lead this Republic in the legal way. If someone tries to stop us from doing that, we will resist and continue our mission—just as we are doing in Africa.” Marius resumed his seat and looked into the eyes of each man.
“You think the nobles will try to retaliate if we run for office?” Rufus said, his eyes containing disbelief.
“Perhaps.”
“People run for office every year, Marius, from all parties and alliances. The results might vary, but we haven’t seen bloodshed in Rome for fifty years,” Rufus added.
The Man With Two Names Page 5
