Whom Gods Destroy: A Novel of Ancient Rome (The Sertorius Scrolls Book 4)

by Vincent B Davis II

  “Well, Castor, besides dogs what do you like?”

  “Pigs,” he replied, quickly. “Sometimes Pollux and I would go to the Boarium forum and play with the pigs until the shopkeepers would make us leave. Sometimes they’d let us sleep there to ward off thieves.”

  My heart sank. “You’re homeless?”

  His face twisted in confusion. “The drill instructors said the legion is my home now. Will we not have somewhere to stay in Greece?”

  Young Castor was clearly simple but talking with him seemed to calm me. He had wet, green eyes—the most curious and unassuming I’d ever seen. Not a drop of deception in them.

  “Yes. Of course we will.” Something flashed before my eye in the water. “Look!” I spun him around and pointed to the distance.

  His face lit up. “Those are some big fish!”

  “Dolphins. They say Neptune’s chariot is sometimes pulled by them. He must favor us!”

  They took turns leaping as if taking part in a choreographed dance. We watched until they faded into the horizon.

  My smile faded. Red clouds ascended like smoke from a fire.

  I knew very little about the sea, but I heard tales about red clouds in the morning since I was a child. Some called it ‘Triton’s Scourge.’ I swallowed hard and gritted my teeth. I had stood tall on the battlefield with ten thousand barbarians howling for my blood. I wouldn’t panic in the face of a storm. I wasn’t going to die on this ship. The priest was wrong. I’d make it back to my wife and son. “Captain Municius!” I shouted.

  “I just spotted it,” he said as he came to my side. “I hope you’re ready, Legate. We’re about to go to war with the gods.”

  Scroll III

  “We’re too far out. We won’t be able to beach until after the storm has hit us. See how swiftly it’s moving toward us?” the captain had said, and he was right.

  The cadence drummer increased his tempo to double time, sending the vessel churning through the choppy waters for hours, but still no sign of land.

  “If we can’t reach land then what shall we do?” I had asked, maintaining my composure only by the silent prayers I was saying.

  “We’ll have to ride it. We’ll have to sail straight into Neptune’s wrath.”

  The winds picked up violently as we grew nearer to the storm. The air became heavy with moisture, and even with my one good eye I could see a wall of rain in the distance.

  I ordered a formation on the stern of the deck.

  “Alright, lads. Listen up. We’re going to be riding into a storm. Braver men than I have turned and run or fallen to their knees or on their swords. But we aren’t going to. Are we?” I asked. They shook their heads. “Lift your voices!”

  “No!” they shouted.

  “That’s right. This is the stuff of legend. If Homer were alive today, he’d tell a tale of our journey. With the courage of Odysseus we’ll meet this storm. We’ll follow in our ancestor Aeneas’s footsteps and prove our worth to the gods!”

  They brandished their swords and beat them against their shields like the storm was an enemy army in full array across from us.

  I asked the captain to convey his instructions. My rank meant nothing now. Neptune’s wrath—if that’s what it was—does not discriminate. The captain instructed us to remain in the bowels of the ship and spread out to keep weight distributed evenly. There was nothing else for fighting men to do.

  “And wear your helmets, lads. You’ll need them,” he said.

  We broke formation and hurried down into the lower levels one man at a time.

  “Let’s bring some wine,” Aulus said when we reached our quarters. “If I’m going to die, I’ll not do it sober.”

  “You’ll be spewing it all over us within the hour!” Lucius shouted.

  “It’d be a shame to waste the wine. But then I’ll drink some more.”

  Apollonius was the only one of us who didn’t scurry around frantically.

  “Are you not afraid, my friend?”

  He smiled and sat on the edge of his cot.

  “Aristotle tells us of a certain river creature which is born and dies each day.”

  I exchanged a confused glance with Lucius.

  “Simply tragic. Were I a playwright I’d tell this fascinating tale,” Aulus said.

  “Leave off,” Spurius said, “he isn’t finished.”

  Apollonius looked up and met my eye. “Wouldn’t it be strange to us, ridiculous even, that one of these creatures would feel cursed to die in the morning, or that another would feel blessed to die in the evening? What difference does it make? It’s trivial. And that’s what our life is, Quintus. A whisper, a blink of the eye. I’ve lived well and you men have too. It makes no difference if we die today or tomorrow.”

  The ship jerked and it sent all of us crashing into whatever was nearest.

  “Well, gentlemen,” Aulus teased, “I think the old man’s finally gone mad.”

  “By the gods, Apollonius, if you can teach me half your wisdom and fortitude, I would conquer all of Gaul.” I leaned over and kissed his head. “But for now, let’s get as low as possible. I’ll live into the evening if it’s possible.”

  “I think I’d prefer it, too.” He smiled.

  We gathered what little we needed and hunkered down along the wooden planks of the port side wall. For what seemed like hours, we linked our arms together and held as fast as we could as the ship bounced and spun from side to side. Several times I thought we would flip. Water began spilling in from the deck above us, a trickle at first but soon a steady pour.

  “Pass me the wine, will you?” Lucius said when the water reached his sandals.

  “Better to die drunk I say,” Aulus replied as he struggled to pass it along.

  “Nobody is dying,” I said, “comrades. I’ll swim to Neptune’s palace and fight him myself to save you.”

  “Hard to imagine you even swimming in a bathtub,” Aulus said. It wasn’t far from the truth, and we needed the laughter.

  The dark—which had been almost pitch black after the torches were doused—was now illuminated from above by lightning bolts. Even from the belly of the ship and over the waves crashing into the ship we could hear the crack of thunder.

  “It seems we’ve pissed off more than just Neptune,” Aulus said.

  The ship bounced and for a moment felt almost suspended before we crashed down hard, sending all of us on top of one another.

  “You should have sacrificed more pigeons, Lucius,” I said. For a moment he snarled but his laughter rang out above the roaring waves and booming thunder.

  The water reached my hips. I laid back and said a prayer. My mind scrambled. Not focusing on any god in particular, visions flashed before my eyes of all the good things I’d promise to do if I lived.

  In my fear I imagined the sensation of drowning, as I once experienced it as a child. The gasping, clawing, straining. Water filling the lungs, the chest tightening, the limbs growing numb.

  Apollonius patted my chest. “You stopped breathing.”

  “I’m still here, old man,” I said, my voice now as shaky as my legs were.

  I heard harried shouts from somewhere above us.

  “What’s happening?” Spurius asked. “What’s happening.”

  The thunder and rushing water seemed to quiet enough for us to hear the voices from above.

  “The rowers are dying from exhaustion! Others double over with cramps. We’re going to die!” someone shouted from above.

  Aulus lowered his head and swore. “Hand me back the wine if you don’t mind, Lucius.”

  “We are not dying here!” I shouted, struggling to my feet. The water reached my ankles now, our personal effects submerged. “Let’s go. Now.” I helped Apollonius to his feet. “Move!” I grabbed onto the ladder and hoisted myself up first.

  We hurried onto the rowing floor and strained to see the rowers’ faces. Endless rows of benches awaited us in the shadows, and indeed some of them contained men slumped over,
or on the floor beside them.

  I sprinted to one closest to me and thrust him aside. I grabbed the oar. At first I followed the speed of the rower beside me, but eventually pushed harder to relieve him. “Row, you bastards! Row!” I shouted, cutting my oar through the violent sea.

  Land was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Aphrodite herself must have come down to earth taken on the form of a beach. I sifted sand through my fingers and thanked whichever god would listen for delivering us through the storm.

  I have no notion how long we rowed. Perhaps an hour, perhaps all night. Either way, the sun was breaking by the time our vessels reached the shoreline and I was utterly spent. Once I made it to the sand, I found myself unable to rise. Perhaps because of how precious I found the earth beneath me.

  The deep blue water became teal at the shoreline like stitched embroidery on the hem of a tunic. The early morning sun sparkled along the calm waves. I saw no sign of the treacherous storm, except for the debris which came in with each tide.

  I found the atmosphere on the island interesting. On the one hand, some of the soldiers were singing songs, drinking wine, and telling exaggerated tales about their bravery during the storm. On the other, men silently and somberly helped down the bodies of the dead from the deck and laid them in a row with a blanket over each of them.

  “Legate Sertorius!” a gruff voice called from the shoreline. I turned to find my old centurion, Gnaeus Herennius.

  “I’m grateful to see you.” I took his hand. We’d both been in Rome preparing for departure for nigh on six months, but I’d hardly seen him. He trained with the men of course, which I envied. Most of my time was spent signing provisioning documents, attending logistics meetings, and doing other bureaucratic duties.

  “I thought we were all going to drown,” he said.

  “I knew we’d make it.”

  He grinned and shook his head. “You lie, but I appreciate it. I haven’t had the chance to thank you for bringing me on this campaign. I had no notion you’d even remember me after you returned to Rome, let alone give me a commission.” He placed a hand on my shoulder.

  “They say the fool is an orphan but the wise man has many fathers. If there is any wisdom in me, Herennius, I must admit you’re one of those fathers. I’m honored to have you serving in my legion.”

  “You flatter me, I think, but I am honored to be here.”

  “How long have you been here? What’s the damage?”

  He scratched at the stubble of his grey beard and considered it. “If my numbers are right … and don’t bet on it by the way … we’re only missing three vessels. Most of the ones here lost a rower or two to exhaustion during the storm, but otherwise I’d say fortuna has favored us.”

  “Only three? That’s a lot of men.” I closed my eye and rubbed my head, trying to forget the priest’s warnings.

  “Don’t worry, legate. I talked with each and every one of those captains before we left. They’re as experienced with the sea as I am in battle. They’ll make it.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “I bet you’re famished,” he said. “Come then, let’s get some porridge.”

  “Without being on that damned boat I might even be able to keep it down.”

  We both filled a clay bowl with porridge and settled in around a hastily built but roaring fire. Warmth had never felt better, but I still shivered from the damp of my clothes. Apollonius joined us as well, and I forced him to wrap up in a cloak and fill a bowl for himself, despite his resistance.

  “Tell me,” I said between mouthfuls, “how are the men? I’m assuming you’ve had a chance to assess them.”

  “Aye. They’re a lousy bunch of degenerates,” he said to my surprise, until he smiled. “And I rather like them. Perhaps I’m becoming soft in my old age.” He took a pull of wine and ignored the drops rolling down his chin.

  “I doubt it,” I said.

  “I mean it! I used to run them ragged. Now, I hardly raise my voice at them. It’s tough on the throat, yelling so often.” He chuckled.

  “I’d say these men just survived the worst thing that’ll happen to them on this campaign,” Apollonius said, “If they can endure this, a peacetime mission in the center of philosophy and wisdom should be nothing.”

  Herennius handed me the wine skin, and I gratefully accepted it. Apollonius shot me a curious look.

  “What? Afraid I’ll get drunk and gloomy as I used to?” I asked with a raised brow. The deaths of Saturninus and Glaucia and the departure of Marius had been catalysts which allowed me to grow into my own man. I was once contemplative and filled with sorrow, haunted by my past. Now I was a senator and a legate, with the family I’d always desired. Too much was going right to be downcast.

  Smiling, Apollonius said, “I was simply going to ask for a drink.”

  “Legate Sertorius,” a man said from behind me.

  I turned and didn’t recognize him, but saw he wore the crest of a legate on his breastplate. “Yes, I am he.” I stood and extended a hand, which he ignored.

  “It’s unseemly for you to dine with slaves and those beneath your rank.” He looked over my shoulder at Herennius with scorn. “You should be seated with me. We have things to discuss.”

  I passed the skin of wine to Apollonius. I took a moment to size up the man and now recognized him as Paullus, legate of the seventeenth legion. He was an aristocrat, certainly. An aging one too, trying desperately and failing to cover up his baldness with a few wisps of hair remaining to him. “What have we to talk about?” I asked.

  Frowning, he said again, “You should be eating with your equals.”

  I nodded and picked up my bowl of porridge. For a moment his shoulders relaxed as he anticipated my submission. Instead, I turned and walked to a gathering of Mules and sat beside them, ensuring to smile at him over my shoulder as I did so. I had not worked to achieve this rank to be told what to do by men of equal rank, even if they were of superior birth. They were not my men; these Mules were my men. “Soldiers,” I said, gesturing for them to remain seated and eating. “How are you recovering?”

  “Satiated and ready for sleep, legate,” one of them said with an urban accent.

  “I’m glad to hear it. We’ll be back on the sea tomorrow, I’m certain, but hopefully the storms are behind us,” I said. Over the young soldier’s shoulder I saw Castor sitting by himself and stirring his porridge meticulously. He appeared to be humming a tune to himself.

  “Now what we really need is too—”

  “Why isn’t young Castor eating with the rest of you?” I asked.

  “Who?” one of the Mules replied, turning to see him. “Oh, that’s pig boy. He’s an odd one, legate. A bit peculiar, if you catch my meaning.”

  Castor must have made the mistake of telling his fellow soldiers he slept in pigsties before joining the Colors. Legionaries were known for many things, but empathy wasn’t one of them.

  “Castor, join us.” I waved him over. Some of the Mules exhaled and exchanged a glance, but when one of them made the mistake of meeting my eye I shamed him into silence.

  He seemed reluctant, debating whether or not to comply, but eventually came and sat beside me on the sand.

  “Have you all seen Castor’s woodwork?” I said. “It’s quite impressive.”

  He smirked and pulled out the rough etching from the pouch at his side.

  “The water made it expand. It looked better before.”

  “I rather like it now. With a few fine touches, you might be able to make it into a lion instead of a dog. Actually, you mentioned selling it. How much would you like for it?”

  His eyes widened. “Well, I’m not finished with it yet.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll make a down payment for now, and we’ll decide on a final price when it’s completed.” I took out a few denarii from a bull scrotum pouch still filled with water and passed them to Castor.

  He was as proud as if he were holding his first child.

  �
��You know, soldiers…” I lingered until everyone was waiting with anticipation, “we will be quartering with Greek civilians, two soldiers per home. The man you’ll be stationed with will be decided by lot.” I could see disappointment in their downcast eyes, but continued, “There may be a time when you are forced to fight for your lives in battle. You’ll be responsible for the life of the man beside you, and he will be responsible for yours.”

  One of the Mules rubbed the back of his neck and another sifted sand through his fingers.

  “And he likely won’t be your best friend, or the one with whom you have the most in common, or the one whom favors the same god as you, or the one whom hailed from the same part of Italy.” I stood. “Two weeks after our arrival you will be tested by the centurions on how well you know the man with whom you’re quartering. I want you to know everything from their favorite color to the name of their first pet. I suggest you begin learning about one another now.”

  I waited for a salute and then departed. I wasn’t certain I’d remember to actually have them tested, but the desired effect would be the same. When I turned, I saw men running to the shoreline. Another vessel was appearing in the distance. My heart leapt and I sprinted down and waded into the water. Even from a distance I could see the quinquereme was as damaged as any of those already on the beach, and it seemed to be lower in the water that it should’ve been.

  We guided them in and helped secure the damaged ship onto the beach and tied it down with massive stakes.

  The crewmen let down the rope ladder, and one by one they descended. They passed us by without saying much, looking like they had seen a gorgon.

  I spotted who I believed was the ship’s captain and hurried to his side. “Captain, what’s the report?”

  “We suffered a loss, legate,” he said. His eyes were pink and wet, and he stared off in the way men often do after battle.

  “How many?”