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

by Vincent B Davis II

  I lowered my stance and tucked the blade at my side, ready to strike. We circled each other as those gathered stepped back to allow us room.

  He inhaled and tried to summon up courage. He stepped in. He remained rigid, like a soldier in a phalanx formation. He moved with his upper body, as most recruits do. Veterans know you win battles with your feet. He feigned to the left and then stabbed to the right. I swung my sword and batted his away. We rotated further. Then he swung overhead, which I blocked and stepped to the side. I might have been able to strike at his midsection then, but I wasn’t ready for the fight to be over yet.

  Whatever the reason for the shame he had felt, it evaporated now. His eyes were now animalistic, as I’m sure mine were.

  He stabbed again, as I predicted. I parried and swung my left fist into his face. He flew to the side, blood flinging from his lips. But he recovered quickly.

  Some of the men cheered. Most, however, watched intensely, believing whoever won must be correct and have the favor of the gods.

  I had no idea who the gods favored. Nor did I care. I was going to win because I was a superior fighter. And if the gods favored those who desired to kill children, I’d rather not serve them anyhow.

  He slashed from the right, which I blocked, but I was too caught up in my thoughts to see the fist which hammered my face from the left.

  For a moment my vision flashed black and white, and I could taste the iron of blood. Some of the men cheered. My vision was hazy but I managed to see Lucius inching forward in my peripherals. “Don’t!” I shouted. And he must have complied, for the battle continued.

  I had been hit many times before and afterward too, but few times had one hit rendered me seeing three of the enemy before me. Instinct prevailed and saved me as I met his sword and carried it with mine to the right before pushing forward and stabbing into his breastplate. It didn’t go deep, only enough to draw blood. He rotated his shoulder to make sure he had full motion—which he did—but otherwise didn’t respond to the pain.

  In fact, it seemed to invigorate him.

  We circled each other further, and as soon as my back was too the ledge, he charged.

  He led with the point of his sword, stabbing for the killer blow at my throat.

  I stepped to the side and dropped my sword. With my right hand I grabbed his sword arm, with the other I latched onto the back of his neck. I sent him toppling over the ledge, only holding him up by his arm.

  Terror replaced the rage in his eyes. “Please, legate!” he shouted.

  “If the girl goes overboard you do, too. What say you?”

  “Please!” he cried out. “I was wrong, don’t let go.”

  My grasp was slipping but I held as tight as I could manage. I turned to the rest. “What say you?”

  “Pull him up,” they all agreed.

  I did, and he thrashed against the wall of the ship until he could cling to the ledge. “Is there no one else?” I asked. I scanned their faces. “Anyone?” Nothing. “Any two of you?” I reiterated. No response. “That’s what I suspected. I’m a legate not a god! Even you yourself don’t believe your fears or you would act against me.”

  For a moment—the anger now dissipated—I felt ashamed. Since I had become a political figure in Rome, I had acted nothing like this. Was I wrong to do so? Had I shamed my Republic or my rank? I took a quick look at the shivering girl there by the mast and all of those doubts fled.

  “Line up in formation. Port side,” I bellowed. “Officers in front!”

  They complied and moved much quicker than they ever had before.

  Once they were aligned, I strolled before them, inspecting every face as I tried to collect my breath. “Let this be a lesson to you, men. This is what happens when we act out of fear. Innocent people die.” I waited as long as I could, analyzing each man and giving them a chance to offer objections if they had them.

  None were offered.

  “All right then. Break your fast and go eat, all of you,” I said, and they were happy to comply. “Except you.” I pointed my sword toward the brave man I had fought. “You bring your portion to the girl,” I said, and he nodded vigorously.

  I thought I was being merciful, and rational even, given the circumstances. But who knows? If a storm came and sank us all, I would have been cursed forever as a blasphemer.

  Maybe I was.

  After the men were dismissed, I turned back to Apollonius, Lucius, and the twins. They all seemed relieved. I also think they were proud of me, perhaps even surprised. Then my eyes drifted to the girl who was at the center of it all. Her tremor had lessened, but she was still shivering and alone.

  That reconfirmed everything. I’d do anything to protect her.

  Scroll V

  Thankfully the girl fell asleep after the ordeal, none the wiser to the danger she’d been in. And she must have been exhausted too, for she slept until we docked on Cythera that night.

  No one ever mentioned what happened again. Shame filled the eyes of the men who passed me, and when given the chance I would mention their bravery in rescuing the child and leave out what followed.

  As the ladders were thrown down, we all lined up to descend to the beaches. I took her hand and led the way. A few of the men tried to speak to her, but she only looked back blankly.

  “Don’t worry, I speak your tongue,” I said.

  She looked at me with a sparkle in her blue eyes. “You’re Greek?”

  “No, but I was taught Greek, and I enjoy speaking it a great deal. The best part is we can talk and none of them will be able to understand us.” Probably true too, with the exception of a few officers.

  When we reached the ledge, she peered over it before shrinking back.

  “Don’t worry. See him at the bottom?” I pointed and she strained to see. She nodded while I pointed at Lucius. “He jumped in the water to save you. If you slip, he’ll catch you.”

  Lucius didn’t speak a word of Greek and stared back at us with a cocked brow.

  She took my hand and I helped her over the ledge, and fortunately she made it to the bottom without relying on Lucius’ reflexes to catch her.

  “Get her to the fires. I’ll get you both something to eat,” I said. He saluted and complied.

  The moon that night was as large as the sun. Stars were out too, and the sky was clear enough that we could spot the constellation Orion.

  I waited for Apollonius when I reached the bottom. He wasn’t nearly as old as I accused him of being, but he wasn’t exactly known for his coordination or balance.

  “That was special, Quintus. What you did,” he said, his eyes wet.

  “Any honorable man in my position would do the same.”

  “I don’t think so, my friend,” he said. “That girl… she… she…” He began to weep and I placed a hand on his shoulder. “She reminds me so much of Anaiah. It would have killed me to see…”

  I kissed his head and smiled to stop his tears. “My friend, we are almost to Greece. To Athens, where she was taken from you. She was the first thought in my mind when Caepio showed up and told me of this campaign. I’ll do everything in my power to find her.”

  His tears dried but his face hardened. “Do not say it. Please. I dare not hope it.”

  We said nothing more until we were balancing bowls of porridge in our arms and handing them out around the fire.

  “Here you go.” I passed a bowl to the child, who studied it at first, but then gorged herself the way Lucius was known to do on the Saturnalia.

  “How long do you think you were out there?” Lucius said.

  “She can’t speak Latin,” I said, before translating. She shrugged in response and continued to feast.

  We ate in uncomfortable silence for a while, not sure of what to say or do next.

  “What is your name?” I asked.

  “Kirrha,” she said, her voice soft, delicate, and perhaps hoarse from going so long without water.

  “A pretty name,” Apollonius said.


  The men at another fire began chanting a drinking song.

  She looked at me, her eyes wide.

  “Oh, yes. He can speak Greek too,” I said.

  “Where were you from?” he asked.

  She took her time to respond, ensuring her food was swallowed before speaking. “I was born in Piraeus. My ancestors were from Corinth.” I arched a brow. Her first sentence she’d strung together, and for the first time I noticed her endearing lisp. Despite this, I could tell she was intelligent for her age.

  “Corinth,” Apollonius said, impressed. “I’ve heard it was once the most beautiful city on the Aegean.”

  “My family was enslaved when the Romans destroyed it,” she said, without malice or anger, as matter-of-fact as if she was speaking of the weather.

  I lowered my gaze and fidgeted. Half a century had passed since Rome razed Corinth, and still the tales were told with trembles. Every building alight, a thousand years of history gone up in smoke. They said every man was slain and every woman and child was sold. I exchanged a look with Lucius and Apollonius as we tried to determine what to say next.

  She continued without prompting. “Everyone says I’m a slave. Dolios said we were slaves and our mom was a slave. He says mother and father are our owners, but it’s not true.”

  “Would you like some more?” I asked when she scraped together the last bits of porridge on her spoon. I handed it off to a mule and nodded for him to fill it, which he hastened to do, several of the ashamed men assisting. “Let’s get closer to the fire.”

  “Who is Dolios?” Apollonius asked.

  “My older brother. He was the smartest boy in Piraeus. He knew Latin and was going to teach me, but he was taken too. So were Mother and Father.” She wiggled her toes in the sand, likely thankful she could feel them again.

  There was so much I wanted to know. Who were her parents? Where were they taken? And by whom? But I decided it could wait. I didn’t want her to feel as if we were interrogating her. She seemed at ease but she was a little girl and might frighten easily. I leaned back and enjoyed the crackling of the fire, humming along to the song of some men down the beach from us.

  Kirrha broke the silence. “You are Romans?”

  “Yes, we are,” I said, curious how she might respond.

  “My parents were Romans.”

  I translated for Lucius, who squinted and shook his head. Not possible.

  “I… well. Do you think maybe they just… looked like Romans?” Apollonius asked as carefully as he could.

  “No. They were Roman citizens.”

  That couldn’t be the case. If her parents were Roman citizens, they couldn’t be sold into slavery. This would be a catastrophe the Republic had never seen before.

  She turned to me, satiated at last, and analyzed my face. She no longer appeared skeptical or frightened, but perhaps now irritated we didn’t seem to believe her. “There were other Romans on our ship too.”

  I swallowed hard. “This can’t be the case, Kirrha. Romans cannot be sold into slavery.”

  “Yes they were.”

  I couldn’t believe everything I heard from the mouth of a traumatized child, but if what she said was true than I… well, I didn’t know what I’d have to do. “How can you be certain?”

  She shrugged. “Because they spoke your tongue. And they wore armor just like yours.”

  Scroll VI

  Fortunately there were no more storms. We sailed into the Port of Piraeus without so much as another drop of rain. When we spotted the harbor, we all ran to the prow to drink it in. The Ostian docks were nothing more than a wharf compared to the bustling Athenian port of Piraeus.

  Our excitement was stalled while we waited in line for most of the morning, vessels of all kinds stacked as far as the eye could see. The sails of every foreign nation imaginable rippled in the wind, and the voices of a thousand different languages rose to greet them. Most were small trading ships, coming with wares from all across the Mediterranean, but there were transport ships too, and the luxuriously gilded boats of emissaries and distinguished individuals.

  Our captain barked orders as the rowers slowly shifted the ship parallel with the docks and eased us toward them. The harbor master complained that military vessels weren’t permitted in this harbor, but there wasn’t anything to stop us from getting off the damned Medusa. I convinced him our soldiers had more coin than sense, were poor at managing it, and would likely spend on every trinket in sight. All true and eventually even he relented.

  We met under a pergola flanked by massive statues of historic Athenians and marble columns. Travelers eyed us suspiciously as the men packed into formation, shoulder to shoulder.

  “We’re the first to dock,” I said, “and the rest will be quick on our heels.”

  “Not bad for a one-eyed seasick legate!” Aulus shouted from behind the ranks, the men stifling their laughter.

  “It’ll take several hours for the rest of them to disembark and the captains to sign their manifests. So I’m giving you liberty until ninth hour.” They started to murmur so I raised my voice. “At this time, I want you all in formation outside the Piraean gate for inspection. Enjoy yourselves, but not too much.” I gestured the act of drinking and dismissed them.

  The men rounded up with their companions and discussed what they would do with a few hours to themselves. Apollonius, holding Kirrha’s hand, joined me.

  “Not quite like our previous campaigns,” I said to Apollonius.

  “Thank Jehovah for that,” he said.

  So this was to be my home for the foreseeable future. The mountains were tall and green in the distance beyond the city, and even when we had stepped away, the sea salt lingered in the air and clang to our lips. The tunic under my armor dampened and stuck to my skin, absent the sea winds for the first time in a while. But the heat was better than seasickness, I vow it.

  “I never thought I’d be paid to stroll around Greece!” Aulus was jubilant as he and his brother approached.

  “Nor shall you. I’m docking a day’s pay for insulting me during formation,” I said.

  His jaw dropped and he was in shock until he realized I was joking. “A pox on you, Sertorius.” He smiled.

  “What are you boys going to do?”

  “Set ourselves up with something good to drink,” Lucius chimed in. “The wine from Chios is said to make Falernian grape taste like soldier’s piss.”

  “Very good, and very expensive,” Apollonius said.

  “We’re officers! We can afford it. You’ll join us won’t you, Sertorius?” Spurius asked.

  I gestured to Kirrha. “I think we’ll stroll the market, but I appreciate your offer.”

  “I’ll bring a vial back for you. Let’s go.” Aulus clapped my shoulder and set off, expecting the others to follow him.

  “Are you happy to be back in Greece?” I asked Kirrha as we approached a woman selling bright flowers in ceramic vases. She said nothing but seemed to scrutinized the crowd for faces she’d recognize.

  I pulled Kirrha closer as we followed Apollonius to the emporion. Sailors and shipowners were perusing the various shops, thick crowds centered around the most unique displays. Grooves were worn into the cobblestone beneath us, and I wondered how many legends of old had walked these streets throughout time. Athens had created democracy when Rome was still sleeping in huts, after all.

  “This is the only place in Attika allowing international trade,” Apollonius said. “You’d better buy now if there’s something you have an eye on.”

  We passed through rows of grain carts. Bread baked in ovens behind them, the smell enticing and the heat warming our skin. Vegetable vendors called out to us and displayed the ripeness of their imported tomatoes and local grapes.

  “Are you hungry?” I asked both, feeling my own stomach grumble at the sight.

  Kirrha looked uninterested.

  “We can buy bread and vegetables anywhere,” Apollonius said, tapping his temple, “but figs from Rhodes and alm
onds from Thasos are only found here. My mother would bring me here as a boy just to acquire them.”

  “Let your nose guide you then, and we’ll all share in the delight.”

  I paid for a few delicacies and sat on a stone curb to eat. Beside us a young man played a lyre and a woman sang with rich vibrato.

  “What do you think?” I asked Kirrha with a mouthful.

  “I eat these a lot,” she said thoughtfully.

  We continued our journey through rows of kiosks where fishermen were displaying their day’s catch and shouting about its freshness, the smell pungent enough to indicate otherwise. I ignored the urge to purchase a new sword as we passed a blacksmith rotating a bronze blade over a red coals.

  We passed through a throng of Egyptian tourists led by a local guide holding up an ostrich feather to remain visible.

  “I feel as if I’ve walked back into the forum,” I said.

  Kirrha reached over, wrapped her tiny hand around mine, and squeezed tight.

  Just before we exited the emporion to receive a little breathing room, a shopkeeper began shouting at Kirrha. For a moment I wondered if it was someone who knew her, but instead it was just a matted-haired old woman trying to peddle her wares.

  “You like? You like?” she asked, extending a terra-cotta doll and shaking it to move the arms and legs.

  Kirrha studied the doll with interest, but without hope.

  I stopped. “Do you want this?”

  She looked up at me, her mouth open. She couldn’t bring herself to ask, but I took that as a yes.

  “How much?” I asked the shopkeeper.

  “Six denarii.”

  We both knew it was too much. “You’re a thief,” I said. “Two denarii.”

  “Five.” She snapped her fingers and held out her hand, expecting my compliance. It was the same game merchants played in the forum. I could have continued to play it too, but I wanted to see the girl smile more than I wanted to save a few denarii.

  The shopkeeper tested the weight of the coins I passed her, and—finding it to her satisfaction—handed Kirrha the doll.