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

by Vincent B Davis II

  With love time slows to a halt. The hour keeper holds no weight. The time and distance between us means nothing when our love burns so strong. The tragedy outside our door is still present, but one can no longer hear the tumult of it. It can wait.

  I paused and sighed. I needed to tell her of the attack on Athens before she heard the newsreaders crying it in the streets, although I doubted my letter could make it in time. I also didn’t want to worry her though—a fine line soldiers have walked since the beginning of time.

  There was a small rebellion here in Greece. A few miscreants with clubs and torches, nothing we couldn’t handle. Don’t let the newsreaders concern you. I thought of our family and nothing else as we rallied a resistance. We quashed it easily and are stamping out any remaining insurrection as we speak. I hope and long to be home soon, and I believe with swift action we can achieve that.

  I felt the guilt of dishonesty in that moment, but I ignored it and continued.

  Hello, Gavius. And hello, mother. I miss both of you dearly. Mother, please dote on Sura as much as possible. Although a simple mare she has the heart of a human, and I have spoiled her with affection since the moment I purchased her in Gaul. If you can spare them, give her peaches when you’re able. This will quickly endear you to her, and you’ll soon be her best companion—at least until my return!

  Gavius, I am thrilled to hear how you’ve grown. You have no idea the immense pride a father feels to know his son has become a man, even in his absence. More than this even, my heart is gladdened by the kind of man you’ve become. Good, noble, and honest. Your grandfather rejoices with the gods when he hears your prayers. When the timing is right, perhaps I will invite you here. I’ve no doubt you could impress the entire legion with your prowess and strength. I’m afraid they would strip me of rank and give it to you! My hope is that there will be no need to bring you to this foreign place, though, as I’d like to return to our home and our horses before my hair fades any further.

  All of you, take heart and know that the gods guide my sword as they guide my hand as I write this letter. Their protection watches over me as they answer your prayers, as I hope they comfort you as they answer mine.

  I will return to you soon. And when I do, it will feel as if no time has passed at all. Then I’ll make up to you for all we’ve missed during my time away.

  Gods protect and guide you until the moment of our reunion,

  Quintus Sertorius, Legatus Legio IV

  I rolled up the parchment and delicately returned it to my satchel. I sat back and listened closely to the gentle clop of the horse hooves on the paved road to Phokis. I put aside thoughts of Lucius, Apollonius, Didius, and the rebellion. I closed my eye and dwelled on Arrea’s face. Soon I was fast asleep like Kallias, and dreaming a little easier than I generally might.

  Scroll XIX

  I’m sure many have wondered over the centuries how one place could be considered the religious center of the world. But after one glance at Delphi they’d no longer ask why.

  We passed underneath two massive cauldrons atop twirled columns as we climbed to the zenith where the oracle resided in the temple of Apollo. Ancient cypress trees hemmed our path. On all sides massive mountains of lush green protected us. Some called Delphi the “navel of the world”, and now it was easy to understand why.

  Dogs roamed free but neither barked nor gave chase, as if even they could sense the sacred in the air. Some of the finest gold goblets and jewelry cluttered the temple steps, free for anyone to steal, but no one seemed to do so. It was a wonder Delphi hadn’t been plundered before, by either Greeks or Romans. It made my eye water to think that even brigands, mercenaries, conquerers, and the impoverished had one place considered too precious to defile. If only we considered the rest of Gaia’s earth in the same manner.

  “Is it how you remember, Kallias?” I asked when our driver pulled the horses to a stop and offered us a hand down.

  He nodded. “Precisely. Once this place enters the mind’s eye, it’s unlikely to ever leave—especially when you can see no better than I can. They say some part of your spirit will forever remain in this temple once you enter.”

  “I should hope all of my spirit will be returning with me to Athens, but I wouldn’t mind to have this sight fixed in my mind.” I peered around, lost in the view. The trees seemed to stand still. Zephyr’s wind had fallen silent the moment we entered Delphi.

  “You should see the Pythia first. If I have time, I’ll go after you,” he said.

  “Are you certain?” I said. “I have many more winters to consult the oracle. I’m not certain you have as long.”

  He laughed and patted my arm. “Who lives longer: the old priest, or the young soldier? It’s a question to which even the philosophers would have no answer to,” he said. “Yes, go on ahead. I’d like to walk these old roads once again, perhaps for the last time.” He unstrapped his sandals and wiggled his toes in between the rocks and sand. “To stand before the Pythia is to stand before the gods. A great honor. But you can feel their presence anywhere, if you dare to try.”

  “For your wisdom, Kallias, I’d give up my command and everything I own,” I said. “I’ll meet you outside the temple of Athena Pronaia if we can’t find one another.”

  “In the meantime, I’ll be asking for the whereabouts of the child you seek.” He smiled.

  “I thank you, priest.” I bowed my head.

  “And what was her name again?”

  “Anaiah.”

  “A beautiful name. I’ve faith the gods will restore her to you.”

  I felt the same tinge of resistance I knew Apollonius had. Unlikely, but I nodded and ascended the steps to Apollo’s temple.

  “Why have you come?” A man with a cane asked from the entrance, dark paint on his eyelids.

  “To consult the Pythia,” I said.

  He exhaled. “Yes. Of course. But why? Every man who comes to this temple seeks her guidance, but not every man deserves it.”

  I cleared my throat. “I’m the commanding officer of a Roman legion. I’ve been sent by my commander to seek guidance from the Pythia. We fear we have offended the gods and need answers as to how we should proceed.”

  “There’s no doubt you’ve offended the gods,” he said. “The gods abhor your dominance and violence, your molestation of the Greek people.”

  I sighed. “That may be true. We seek to make amends with both the gods and with the Greek people, if only the Pythia will guide us.”

  The dark-eyed man studied me for some time, but eventually nodded. “Do you swear to honor our maxims?” he asked, pointing to etchings on the temple exterior.

  Three lines were inscribed there. They were not decorated, gilded, or inset with jewels. I wondered how long they’d been there and how many men had repeated them before me.

  “I do.”

  “Then repeat them.”

  “Know thyself. Seek nothing in excess. Surety brings ruin.”

  “Now you may enter. But first, you must pay for the laurel branches and the black ram which must be sacrificed.”

  I guessed at the cost in my head and wondered how many men and women made the pilgrimage to Delphi only to be turned away from the Pythia for lack of coin. “How much?” I asked, pulling out my coin purse and sifted through. I cautiously glanced over my shoulder to ensure no one was watching, I’d brought more than I was likely to need.

  Rather than giving me an amount he reached out and counted through the coins with black-painted fingernails. Satisfied, he snapped and the great doors to Apollo’s hall were pulled back by two strong men. “May you find the answers you seek,” he said as I passed him.

  Despite the daylight from the door behind me, the temple was almost pitch black. I was forced to wait for my eye to adjust. Dim lights beneath me showed a staircase descending to a lower level. It wasn’t until I began the descent that I noticed the heavily armed guards standing in the shadows on either side of me.

  Before the Pythia was even into
view the stench of burning oleander filled my lungs, almost knocking me back.

  Rather than the brightly gilded and heavily adorned throne room I expected, the Pythia sat in an empty room on a covered tripod cauldron. Beneath her was an open chasm, vapors rising from it.

  Rather than a wise old woman I found a beautiful young girl, not more than a few years into womanhood. She didn’t seem to notice me, undisturbed and uninterested in my presence. She shook bay leaves to waft the vapor to her and she inhaled deeply. She seemed to sway from side to side, but perhaps because of the fumes.

  When she spoke, her voice was like that of the gods—deep and powerful—encompassing the room and arising from no one place in particular. “Who now greets me? The one covered in the blood of his countrymen.”

  I took off my helm and knelt on the cold rock beneath her. “I have never shed the blood of my countrymen, Pythia.” I felt my heartbeat quicken as I gazed upon her. How many kings had knelt before her in this very spot? Agamemnon and Leonidas might have felt the chill of this stone on the flesh of their knees as well.

  “No. No, not yet.” She lifted her gaze, revealing deep black pools for eyes, no iris to speak of.

  “I come seeking your wisdom.”

  “You come seeking answers.” She changed the pattern of the bay leaves, inhaled, and tilted her head back.

  “Yes. I do. I ask for many.”

  “You do not know the answers you should seek, nor the questions you should ask. Yet you will ask regardless.”

  I inched backward, afraid the fumes were getting to my head.

  “Have we offended the gods?” I asked, although I wasn’t certain I wanted to know the answer.

  “All have.”

  “Is this why the gods have allowed us to be attacked? Allowed our men to die in flames while they sleep?”

  “Apollo tells me your great punishment is that the gods have left you to your own devices. The world will feel cold without their embrace. The malevolence of others will devour your children.” She gasped as if she saw a powerful vision, then moaned.

  “Is there one in particular god we need to propitiate?”

  “All.”

  I grunted. Was this Apollo’s prophecy or the groaning of an intoxicated child? I felt shame for the thought, and I sensed she’d heard it, for her eyes opened wider and brighter and stared right through me. “What can be done to appease them?”

  “Nothing but the willful shedding of innocent blood beneath the mighty shield of Athena can stay the gods’ wrath.”

  “A sheep or ram? Or a white bull?”

  Her voice suddenly became frail and distant, she said, “A man.”

  “The Romans do not practice human sacrifice.”

  “Nor do the Greeks. But the gods require what they may.”

  From all the tales I’d read, Apollo’s Pythia always spoke in riddles. I hoped this was such an instant, otherwise I’d wasted my time in consulting her.

  She seemed lost in her haze, and I considered leaving. Before I could stand, I asked, “Will Cerberus win?”

  She gasped for air, her chest heaved rapidly, and she flung her long dark hair from side to side. She fell still. “In a manner of speaking.”

  It felt as if my blood began to boil and my face flushed. “I’m sorry but I cannot believe you.”

  “Neither would they,” she said.

  I noticed how white my knuckles were becoming around the grip of my helmet. I threw it on and buckled it.

  “I thank you for your—”

  “You still have not asked the right question,” she said, her voice powerful and echoing once more.

  “What is the right question?” I asked. She continued to wave her branch wand and ignored me. “Will Timoxenos return?”

  “Wrong question,” she whispered, “because you already know the answer in your heart. He will never breathe the Greek air again.”

  “Pythia, please…” I halted to lower my voice. If the gods were angry now I couldn’t imagine their wrath if they overheard me yelling at Apollo’s oracle. “Please help me to understand what question I most need to ask.”

  “What is it that consumes your mind?”

  “My family,” I replied without hesitation.

  “And you have no questions about them?”

  She knew I did, but I was afraid of the answers. “Will I be able to protect them?”

  She opened her mouth wide and inhaled long and loud. “No.”

  I gritted my teeth and stood to my feet.

  “You ask the wrong questions and therefore you receive the wrong answers. I am Apollo’s voice, his shaking reed, his envoy. So I will tell you the answers to the questions you cannot ask.”

  “Go on,” I said.

  “War will beset you all the days of your life. Battles you do not seek, cannot win, and do not desire. You will feel the gods have cursed you, but in fact you are their chosen. Their tool, their sacrifice, their vessel.”

  My legs became weak and my breaths shortened, but I masked it adequately with anger. “Can a man not alter his fate?” I asked, knowing the answer a representative of the gods would likely give.

  “Within the confines of your destiny. The day of your death and the manner in which it will take place is already inscribed on the pillars of Elysium. From now until then? Take care, lest you travel down a path of treachery and destruction.”

  I shook my head. She could make whatever prophecies she’d like, but she couldn’t convince me I would pursue evil. “I will not travel down that path, whatever the Fates have in store for me.”

  She smiled then, her teeth white and sharp. “For a tree to grow tall enough to reach Mount Olympus it must have roots that descend down to Tartarus, and oh…” She moaned, closed her eyes, and rubbed at the flesh of her cheeks. “You have a foot in both.”

  I pursed my lips to stay my anger. “If you could relay a message to your god, inform him to send whatever trials my way they see fit. I’ll not betray the path my father put me on. I will pursue righteousness and meaning above all else. Tell him that.”

  She said nothing and I thought for a moment she was done with me. I turned to leave. “Your loved ones will lie down in the bed of your enemies. Father will kill son, and brother will kill brother,” she said. “Bones will be crushed on the Field of Mars and flesh will be split over the breaking of bread. And you’ll be there for it all. The gods whisper perhaps you’re even the cause.”

  “Pythia, please!” I turned around. She didn’t seem to notice. “I came to ask about Cerberus and yet you only prophecy the evils that lurk in the distant future. I’m not yet concerned for the future, as I know not if I’ll even make it there. What does this have to do with Cerberus?”

  She smiled again and clicked her tongue rapidly. “Oh, my child. It has everything to do with Cerberus.”

  I was red-faced as I stomped out of Apollo’s temple. The Pythia frustrated me. I shook my head and considered all the time I’d lost coming here.

  “She’s all yours, priest. May you learn something more valuable than I did,” I said as I approached the wagon.

  Kallias was standing with his head bowed and his arms crossed.

  My posture softened when I placed a hand on his arm. “Did you not enjoy your stroll through Delphi’s streets?”

  “I did. Very much,” he said without looking up. “But I was interrupted.”

  I flexed my arms and balled my hands into fists. “By whom? Point me toward them and they’ll bother you no more.”

  He did not smile, but at last he looked up.

  “I think you’d best have a talk with him.” Kallias pointed to our driver, a young legionary not much older than Gavius.

  He snapped to attention. Beads of sweat were forming on his ashen face. He looked like a blood-drained sacrifice.

  “What has happened?” My jaw tensed.

  “Sir, I thought you were going to be longer… and it’s been a long time since—”

  “Soldier.” I placed
a hand on his shoulder and forced him to relax. “You can speak plainly.”

  His eyes were watery as he looked up, and he seemed to shrink from me as if he expected to be struck. I was trying my best to be patient, but I was perplexed, and thus fearful.

  “I decided to visit one of the brothels on the outskirts of the city. I haven’t been with a woman since Rome, see, and—”

  I smiled with familiarity. “No harm done, lad,” I whispered so Kallias wouldn’t overhear. I relaxed, realizing it was probably Kallias who had given the boy a hard time for revelry in this sacred place.

  “Well, there’s more than that, sir.” He shuffled on his feet.

  “Soldier. It doesn’t appear to me that you’ve done anything wrong,” I said. “but if you fail to finish this tale before I empty this skin of wine, I’ll have you lashed.” I brought the skin to my lips as he continued.

  “I wasn’t meaning to eavesdrop, I swear it,” he stuttered trying to speed up. “I just couldn’t help it, see. It was a boring ride. And I heard you mention the name Anaiah.”

  I sipped slow to allow him to finish. Now he had my attention. I nodded for him to continue.

  “There was a girl at the brothel called Anaiah. And she had golden hair.”

  I dropped the wineskin and slammed my hand into his throat, throwing him back into the carriage. I roared, “Did you lie with her? Did you lie with her? Speak!”

  “I didn’t. I swear on the… Black Stone… I didn’t,” he managed to say. I released my grip. “Left as soon as I heard it. I didn’t even get my coin back.” He rubbed at his throat.

  I grabbed him by the arm and pushed him toward the road. The meditating citizens of Delphi watched in stunned silence.

  “Go, take me to her.”

  He ran on, both to reach the brothel quicker and escape my wrath. We’d almost escaped the traffic of frightened travelers when he stopped outside of a stucco hut. He lowered his gaze and pointed inside.