“And yet it is your name on the lips of every legionnaire.” He clapped again, and more forcefully now.
A few soldiers rushed in behind me and knelt with bowed heads, extending a crown of grass, wheat, and fading flowers. Didius waited until I placed it on my head.
I desired to sulk into the shadows if the praetorium torchlight allowed for any.
“Now, let’s settle in and discuss our stratagem.” Didius rubbed his hands together and approached the map. “What intelligence have we collected from the captives?”
I wanted to mention we could have achieved far more if he hadn’t slaughtered them too quickly. But I did not. “Cerberus is led by three men. One is an archon, another is a polemarch. We are uncertain about the other.”
“Forgive me,” Didius addressed the room. “My history is a little hazy. I was under the impression these positions were retired when we squashed the last revolution in Greece?”
“That is true,” Spurius said. “These men must be claiming their ancient positions of authority to give themselves some form of weight or legitimacy.”
Didius nodded, satisfied with the answer. “I would do the same were I them. What else?”
“These attackers rallied in the ruins of Corinth. Perhaps this site was of geographical necessity, or to avoid the prying eyes of citizens,” I said. “It’s also possible this was a symbolic location, to remind the men of Rome’s destruction of Corinth in the past.”
He smiled. “I’d like to remind them of this as well. Perhaps they would mind their place if their memories were sharper. What else?” We looked from man to man, there wasn’t a lot else we could offer.
Lucius cleared his throat. “Proconsul, some of the men we hunted down and killed wore bronze armor. They say… they say that the best bronze armor comes from Argos. So… perhaps they were from Argos. Or knew someone from there.” He swallowed and awaited Didius’ response.
The Proconsul looked around the room, gauging our response to this, but ultimately ignored him.
“So, if no one has anything else to share, I will now report what intelligence I’ve managed to gather,” he said. “The torture detachment with the sixteenth legion was successful in squeezing out some information from a few rebels before they were drained of their lifeblood.”
He picked up two terracotta figures in the form of soldiers. We moved closer to see the demonstration.
“The rebels indicate that one of the leaders operates in Laconia, perhaps from Sparta. The other from Attika, probably here in Athens. Just as your source reports, Legate Sertorius, the third is an enigma.” He placed one figurine over Sparta in the south; the other on Athens in the east.
“What is required of us, Proconsul?” Lucius asked, stepping forward.
“The first thing we need to do,” he reached for his wine and took a long pull, “is figure out which god has cursed us.” When no one replied, he continued, “The gods hate cowards, yes? And these rebels are irrefutably cowards. Yet they were able to breach our walls and slaughter not only our men but also the people we’re entrusted to protect. The gods must be offended.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in the gods, Proconsul?” I said without thinking.
He inhaled deeply and cracked his knuckles and neck. “I said they have not thus far intervened against me. Now they have. They stole my son from me, if you’ll recall. Then they threaten to take away my legion. If it wasn’t for your glorious defense they might have.” I said nothing in reply, so he continued. “To determine the will of the gods, there is only one place we can go. The Oracle of Delphi.”
Everyone nodded.
I said, “The fourth legion has several priests, whom we could—”
“No.” Didius lifted his hand. “I want you to go.” He pointed at me.
“Me, sir?” I asked. Despite my desire to retrieve Apollonius’ niece, abandoning my legion for a trek through hostile territory didn’t appeal to me.
“That’s right. The legion’s most pious and respected man,” Didius said with another sip.
“Couldn’t the priests—”
“The gods detest priests. Most of the time at least. How many priests have been immortalized as heroes of the gods? None that I can recall. The gods love men of action. Jason, Achilles, Ajax… Sertorius.” He gestured to me.
“I’ll go if you order it, Proconsul.” I hung my head, but I could feel Lucius’ eyes piercing through me.
“Of course, you will. Otherwise, I’ll strip you of rank and have you crucified,” he said quickly and continued as if he hadn’t. “We’ll need to split the forces. Athens must remain our priority, especially in its weakened state. But if it’s true that the enemy operates in Laconia we cannot allow them to expand unmitigated.”
“I’d like to volunteer to lead the Sixteenth to Laconia.” Lucius squared up with Didius.
I watched to see if he’d look in my direction but he did not.
“Is that right?” Didius asked, considering it. “Well, as tribune laticlavius you are the most senior officer of the sixteenth now that Paullus is dead. Very well. The fourth will remain in Attika and the Sixteenth will go south.”
“Thank you, sir. I will serve honorably.” Lucius banged his fist against his breastplate.
I lost interest in the rest of the discussion. I couldn’t wrap my head around why Lucius would leave my side willingly. And that damned crown was beginning to itch me awfully.
Something Didius said later regained my attention. “These attackers appear to be little more than poor farmers, merchants, and sheepherders who were indebted to this cult in some way. But from what the torture detachment managed to learn, they seem to have a real army.”
“Where would they hide such an army? We have eyes all over Greece,” Spurius asked.
Aulus nodded beside him but otherwise seemed absent.
“That is a good question, tribune. I feel certain they’ve trained up men and leant them out to the Hellenist neighbors in the east. Their men have probably been serving as mercenaries for the Seleucids, the Ptolemies… they’ll come home battle-hardened and well-equipped if that’s the case.”
We all contemplated in silence what it might be like to go up against a true phalanx wall like our ancestors had when conquering Greece. There was glory to be earned, and I could tell by their eyes that some found this intriguing. Aulus, I believe, shared my sentiment: dread.
“Proconsul, I have a request… if I may?” Lucius said.
Didius shrugged. “Go on then.”
“The sixteenth lost a lot of good men. I need officers to accompany me. I’d like to borrow these two men from the fourth to serve alongside me.” He held his arm out to the Insteius twins.
Again Didius clasped his hands behind his back and shrugged, then looked to me with a smirk. “They’re your officers, legate. Do you acquiesce?”
I struggled to swallow and locked eyes with Lucius. I found no emotion there, none of the familiarity I’d known since I was a boy. My voice weak, I said, “If it will help the good Tribune, certainly.”
“No more laxity and half-measures,” Didius said. “We’ll rest tonight and then tomorrow we go to war. Tribune Hirtuleius, you’ll leave at first light.”
“Excellent, sir.”
We were dismissed and Lucius immediately made for the exit. I hurried behind him and grabbed his wrist.
“What are you doing? We’ve always served best at one another’s side…”
His eyes locked onto my crown and he smiled sadly. He shook his head. “You know, you’ve always been blessed, Sertorius. When we were children the girls favored you. Our tutors applauded you. You understood things I couldn’t. You held sway over people with your charm and the power of your words—”
“Lucius, what does this—”
He held up a hand. “And I’ve watched you over the years. At times you’ve doubted that the gods even exist. Other times you’ve ignored them as if they didn’t. You’ve mocked me for making proper sacrifices.
”
“I spoke in jest, friend. Where is this coming from?” I pleaded.
He frowned. “That’s not the point and you know it. I’ve spent my entire life doing everything right. Following the instruction of my forebears, of our gods, of our trainers and officers,” he said. “I make the proper sacrifices and yet it’s you the gods love. I share the same scars as you and yet the men cry your name. You are truly blessed, Sertorius.”
“I’ve not asked for any of this.”
“I know.” He scratched at his forehead and exhaled. “I know. And that almost makes it worse.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, then met my gaze. “There is no sunlight for the rest of us beneath your shadow.” He patted my shoulder and turned to leave.
I found no proper words. I didn’t know if I was ashamed, angry, disheartened, or all of them. I remained in place as I watched him depart, knowing it might be awhile before we saw each other again. I walked back to my tent and sat down on a log outside it. The sun was beginning to creep up beneath the mountain fog, a pale blue glow in the sky.
It had been over two days since I’d last slept, since I’d last had a meal, since I’d last thought of my family. I hadn’t even been able to check on Apollonius or Kirrha.
I was too hungry to eat and too exhausted to sleep. It was remarkable how much two days could change. Everything else in the world had faded, its existence in question. I was already back on the battlefield, and again the only real thing was war.
Scroll XVIII
I kept myself busy after the battle. I staged the corpses, built the fortifications, held meetings—enough distance to distract me from the reality of what had happened. With no other objectives to steal my attention: I quickly remembered how wretched a city can appear after it is sieged.
Apollonius, Niarchos, and I walked through the streets together, looking for ways we could help the citizens.
Carts were stationed at random intervals, and they were already overflowing with the bodies and body parts of the fallen. Trampled babies lifeless and stiff like terracotta dolls lay just out of the reach of their mother’s cold arms. Livestock carcasses littered the streets, most of them nothing more than a wisp of fir and guts, unrecognizable.
Always a stark reminder, this made me hate war and all the destruction it brought. But it also reminded me why we fought. To avoid tragedies such as this.
We continued rebuilding for a few weeks until Didius tired of my presence and determined it was time I made my pilgrimage to Delphi.
The one reprieve to this was the thought of reuniting Apollonius with his niece, Anaiah. I thought he’d be thrilled at the prospect of making the journey and returning with his only remaining family. Again I misjudged my old friend.
“There’s no sense in abandoning one child who needs me to search for another I’m unlikely to ever find,” he said, gesturing to Kirrha.
Since the moment I’d met Apollonius, he’d thought of little else than rescuing Anaiah. I dwelled constantly on his reasoning and found no satisfying conclusion. I didn’t try to convince him. Instead, I asked for a physical description and how I might recognize her. He reluctantly described her golden hair, dark complexion, and brown eyes.
“Is there anything I might say to her that’d convince her you’re with me?” I said before my departure.
He considered it thoughtfully. “Tell her she’s the moon and the stars, my light in the darkness.” He looked away to avoid tears. Then I left.
A carriage was prepared for me outside the gates. When I arrived, friendly old Kallias was seated there on it.
“Good day, young Roman. I hope you don’t mind some company,” he said as I crawled up.
“Not at all, though I’ll need to write a letter or two as we travel,” I said, kissing his cheek. “I’ve found so little time to write to my wife.”
“You’ll learn this when you’re my age, my boy. The gentle lull of a carriage puts any old man to sleep.”
When our bags were secured in the back, the legionary whipped the two horses to a trot and we set off.
The priest said little but smiled and nodded to all passing travelers and admired the trees and flowers of the field.
I broke the silence. “So why have you decided to make the trek to Delphi?”
“It’s been many years since I’ve made the journey, and I’ve longed for it deeply. Before the Pythia I am no longer a priest but just a man, reverently beseeching the gods. It is a humbling experience, one that connects us with all those that came before and all that come afterwards.”
I nodded and wondered if I’d feel the same. I’d consulted very few prophetesses before and hadn’t ever enjoyed the experience as much as one might expect. “Do you mind if I ask another question?”
He turned to me and smiled. “Anything, my child.”
“Did Didius ask you to come to keep an eye on me?” I watched for a flicker of the eyes or twitch of the lips—anything that might give the truth away.
Instead, he nodded and placed a hand on my knee. “Your Proconsul is a very broken man, even if he doesn’t look it.”
I assumed that was my confirmation.
“He certainly doesn’t look it.”
“I’ve felt his heart breaking every night since news of his son’s death arrived. He’s afraid of everything… grasping and desperate to hold onto what he has left.”
“I can understand this,” I said. “Although I beg the gods for an explanation as to why he doubts me.”
“There is no explanation, my child. When the fortifications of your life seem to collapse, there’s no one above suspicion,” Kallias said. “The gods will speak cool and balm through the heat of his pain in time, and he will greet you with the same trust and admiration I know he truly feels for you.”
“I hope you’re right.”
He smiled, his faded eyes scanning over the careworn features of my face in a way that calmed me.
“For what it’s worth, I am not here to spy on you. I’ve accompanied you for the pleasant conversation and to see a beautiful city I’ve not seen in a very long time.”
“Thank you, Kallias.”
He returned his gaze to the lush greenery on the side of the road, and I pulled out parchment and a stylus.
I was about to begin my letter when I exhaled. “Since you are perhaps the wisest man I know, I have a question of the heart for you.”
“Those I can answer.”
“I’m afraid I’ve lost my friend Lucius.”
“That doesn’t sound like a question.”
“He’s angry with me… he says he has no opportunity while ‘in my shadow.’ Whatever that means.” I picked at the leather threads of my balteus. “I’ve never once stolen an opportunity from him.”
“Have you ever stepped aside to deliberately offer him one?” he asked. “Sometimes that’s necessary for others to shine in whatever capacity they’re able.”
I exhaled and shook my head. “I don’t mind discovering when I’m wrong,” I said. “but I truly detest when someone else does it for me.” We laughed. “I’m afraid it’s too late though. Lucius is moving south and may not be back for some time.”
He patted my knee. “You can be reunited upon his return. Perhaps he’ll have his own glory then.”
The faint smile on my face disappeared as I looked at him. “That’s if we both make it out of this alive.”
He didn’t reply. Kallias had a lifetime of experience and wisdom concerning matters of the heart, but no experience at all with matters of war.
“I have another question, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course.”
“I have a dear friend who’s lost someone he loves. To slavery, not death. She is said to be in Delphi. I invited him along to find her, to restore her to his arms… and yet he refuses to come. There is no hope in his eyes when I speak of her. And yet I know his love overflows. How can this be?”
He nodded, knowing already his response. “No, Sertorius. It’s not that he h
opes too little, but that he hopes too much. The hearth of his heart is kept burning by this hope. Once it’s extinguished, he’s afraid his life force will fade with it. And he might be right.” He stopped and looked to the horizon.
I knew he wasn’t finished so I only nodded.
“Since the moment his loved one disappeared, he’s likely known how impossible it would be to retrieve her. Even with the opportunity to reunite, pursuing such an end and returning empty-handed would drain his hope of all substance. In this moment, he is praying with the entire essence of his being that you return with his girl. But if you do not, at least he will have one farther step he can take to restore her.”
I sighed. “It seems cowardly to me.”
“Nay.” He shook his head. “To hope against all reason and wisdom is the very heart of bravery.”
At length I nodded. “I guess it’s up to me to find her then.”
He smiled and patted my knee again. “It’s up to us. I will help you. There is nothing that does an old man more good than to witness the love of those who will live on after him.”
I thought of ways I might thank him but found nothing sufficient. Before long he dozed off as he anticipated, his head slumped over on my shoulder.
I grinned and moved as carefully as I could to begin my letter.
Dear Arrea,
Not a day has passed that I haven’t cried out in longing for your touch. The nightmares I’ve grown accustomed to have given way to visions of your face, as even the horrors of my past cannot overcome the power of my love for you.
The soldier’s life is often one without comfort or reprieve. I can think of only this one: love. With it there is warmth. With it the suns shines through whatever darkness besets my path. You can feel it too, if you try. It resonates from within and manifests itself in the deepest, truest part of us. Even from so far apart, you keep my fire burning.
I looked over my shoulder to ensure Kallias wasn’t overlooking. He was fast asleep. I smiled. It wouldn’t do my reputation as a warrior any good for word of my sappy poetry to get out.
Whom Gods Destroy: A Novel of Ancient Rome (The Sertorius Scrolls Book 4) Page 16
