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

by Vincent B Davis II

  “Lead me,” I said.

  He held back the bead partition and I ducked to enter. The straw floor was covered in dried wine and the dirt tracked in by travelers. Light poured in through holes in the ceiling but there was nothing to reflect it save the mud walls and torn curtains which concealed each room.

  “Back so soon?” the Phoenician proprietor said to the legionary with a coy grin. “Don’t worry. Many of our guests are shy. And you’ve brought a friend?” He stroked his forked beard and dabbed sweat from under his wrapped head.

  “Take me to her now.” I pushed the legionary’s shoulder and resisted the urge to assault the Phoenician.

  He walked halfway down the hall and pointed to one of the rooms. I burst through the curtain to find a girl huddled on a mat in the corner and a man standing over her. He was pulling the tunic from his head.

  “Be off, she’s mine,” he said.

  I ignored him and searched the girl’s face for anything that resembled Apollonius’ descriptions. Bright-eyed and always giggling. He always smiled when he recalled her, despite the distance and time between them. He remembered how she was always chasing him or being chased by her, yet this girl remained still.

  She tucked a blue tunic over herself to protect what little modesty remained to her.

  “Are you Anaiah?” I asked.

  Could it really be her? She was too old. No, Apollonius remembered her as a small child, but the years had cascaded past us faster than we could keep track of them.

  She gave only the faintest of nods.

  “I said she’s mine, Roman dog.” He stepped forward.

  I lunged in to meet him and sent him to the floor. With one hand on his throat and my legs pinning him to the ground I sent my fist crashing into him. I was going to scar him up worse than myself. At first I could see only red, but from the corner of my eye I glimpsed Anaiah. She was cowering and huddled at the wall, trying to pack herself into the smallest shape she could manage.

  Her eyes were filled with terror, more even than when this boar of a man stood over her.

  I rolled off the man and allowed him to spit up blood and what looked like a chipped tooth. “Go, get out of here,” I said, catching my breath.

  “What by Ba’al is going on in there?” The proprietor yelled from outside the room.

  “Stall him,” I said to the legionary as he saluted and complied. I turned to Anaiah and held out my hands in surrender. They were shaking and bloody, no wonder she tried to squirm away farther. “Please, I’m not going to hurt you.” I took off my helmet and unbuckled my sword. I laid them at her feet and inched away. “I believe I know your uncle. His name is Apollonius.”

  Her delicate limbs continued to quiver like reeds in the wind. Her eyes continued to watch my every movement but didn’t register when I said his name.

  “He’s been looking for you. For so long. Say that you are his niece. Say it and I will take you from this place.”

  Even if she was no kin to my friend, I hope she lied. I wanted to take her away regardless. No one’s daughter should live like this.

  “He told me to tell you… to tell you…” I searched my mind as I heard a bustle by the door. “That you are his moon and his stars, his light in the darkness.”

  Her trembling lips parted, and she leaned forward. Tears dripped over the black paint of her eyelashes.

  “It’s you.”

  I lowered my head and wept myself. What god arranged this? Or goddess rather, as only a woman could have such a tender heart to save one who could offer no sacrifices. What goddess sent the foolish legionary to this desolate place and brought Anaiah to our arms. She alone should sit atop Mount Olympus.

  What god could have cursed us if this great blessing was allowed to happen?

  Anaiah fell into my arms and I said a prayer to Diana, promising to serve her first and foremost for the rest of my life.

  The proprietor burst in and laughed at what he saw.

  “You’ll be paying double now, Roman,” he said. “for beating my visitor and for… whatever you’re doing.” He snickered.

  I slowly let Anaiah down and gestured for the legionary to assist her. “Let’s talk, you and I.”

  He smiled. “I think that’s a good idea. I’ll show you what you’re doing wrong.”

  I followed him back to the table near the entrance and pulled out my coin purse. The gods bade me bring more denarii than I’d need, and now I knew why. “How much?”

  He pointed to the wall where numbers were crudely etched. “Depends on what service you require.” He cocked an eyebrow.

  “No. To purchase her.”

  “What?” He soured. “No. Not for sale. She’s my best porne.”

  “How much?” I dumped out my coin and spread them out to show him how much.

  His eyes glistened with greed but then he pushed them away to avoid the temptation.

  “No. She’s young. Plump breasts and good teeth. She’ll bring me a fortune before I’m done with her.”

  My limbs twitched with repressed rage. I controlled my breath to steel myself. “I am asking you to name a price.”

  “Release her!” He shouted at the legionary. “Just who do you think you are, by Ba’al? I’m sanctioned by the city of Delphi. You can’t come in and—”

  “I am willing to make a fair offer.” I counted out the denarii.

  The Phoenician slammed his fists on the table. “I said no deal!”

  “Go on and take her to the cart,” I told the legionary and the proprietor huffed in exasperation.

  “You’ll do no such thing!”

  “Please, just give me a fair price,” I said, still barely controlling myself. “I have no quarrel with you.”

  He struggled for the words to articulate his rage. “You’ll have to kill me to part with her! She’s my favorite slave.”

  I didn’t mention that doing so was an option I was actively considering. I lowered my head and thought of everything I had that might sway him. My dagger might fetch a hefty price, but not likely enough. A legate’s crest would be worth something substantial, but I would return to Athens in disgrace. A tear immediately flooded my eye when I felt the cold gold on my finger. I already knew what I was doing, and it broke me. I slid off the ring and placed it on the table between us. “My father’s signet ring. Passed down my line for generations. Given to my ancestor by the Roman consul Dentatus after the war with the Sabines.”

  He picked it up and inspected it carefully. He tested the weight and tried to hide his delight.

  “It’s as precious to a jeweler as it is to me. And this is the last offer you’ll receive.”

  He bit down on the ring and sucked his gums to taste it. “And if I refuse?”

  I leaned across the table and put my hand on top of his so he couldn’t move away. “I slaughter men because some old politician points his finger and tells me to. What do you think I’ll do to a wretched specimen like yourself if you insult me again?”

  He quivered and retreated the moment I released his hand. “Go. Take her.” He nodded to the exit, and I gratefully complied.

  When I made it back to the carriage, Kallias and the other legionary were already seated. We’d overstayed our welcome.

  In the light I saw just how the years had worn on Anaiah. Still little more than a child, she’d experienced a lifetime of agony. The sadness in her eyes reflected it.

  Now I was glad Apollonius hadn’t come. But if Diana could save her, perhaps she could restore her. We could only pray and sacrifice, and hope the gods hadn’t, in fact, cursed us.

  Part III

  Scroll XX

  Spurius Insteius

  Written at the request of Quintus Sertorius

  The sun was a particular shade of orange… is that something I should include? I’ve never written something like this before…

  The sun was a particular shade of orange, and I recall it reflecting off every helm and lorica of the legionaries behind us, creating a sea of light. />
  “It’s truly something isn’t it?” Aulus said with the smug grin for which he was famous.

  “What is?” I replied.

  Aulus gestured to the legion behind us. “This. All these men following us.”

  Of course it was Lucius at the forefront, eyes fixed on the distant city of Sparta.

  Lucius said to himself, “We’ve a job to do, and we’ll do it adequately.”

  “I mean it though. Watch this.” Aulus wheeled his horse around, and naturally Lucius and I did also. “Halt!” he shouted.

  The centurions echoed the orders back as the legions snaked to a standstill. Lucius and I looked at my brother with confusion. He simply laughed.

  “It feels like yesterday my wife was yelling at me for falling asleep in her poetry reading,” he said. “Now I say one word and 5,000 men obey it.”

  Lucius chuckled and gave the order to continue the march. “The power’s gone to your head, my friend.” Lucius shook his head.

  “Gerrae, you’re the one in charge. The great mighty Hirtuleius is leading this army,” Aulus said.

  Lucius turned, his smile faded. Aulus lowered his gaze.

  I said, “I might say it’s irregular for you to be leading from the front, Lucius. As commander you should be surrounded by guards in the middle of this formation. That’s what we were taught.”

  “I am no commander. I’m Lucius Hirtuleius. And if we’re to be attacked, I’d like my sword to meet the enemy first. And if not, my eyes should be the first our gracious hosts meet.”

  That was just the sort of statement that concerned me.

  Lucius led the way over the rolling green hills of Lakonia, yellow flowers wilting under our soldiers’ sandals.

  Aulus and I didn’t know a thing about the legion, let alone leading it. We were so young then. Aulus was greener even than me. I’d seen his knees buckle the first time he spilt blood.

  I didn’t doubt Lucius’ ability with a sword. He’d seen more battle and killed more men than any legionary should hope for. But could he lead? Ever since we were boys, he took orders from his grandfather, from Sertorius, from us. He executed them to perfection and longed for nothing but admiration in return.

  He was the kind of man you want at your side during a fight. No one was more reliable in the thick of battle. His presence encouraged others because despite his rank, he ate what they ate and drank what they drank. He said his old general Marius taught him that, and it was the most important thing he’d ever learned.

  But that didn’t mean he had a talent for stratagem. We still didn’t know one way or the other. One thing was certain, however. Aulus and I, and all of our men, would have followed that man to Hades and back regardless.

  “So there it is,” Aulus said. “The city of soldiers. Doesn’t look like much does it? I imagined from the tales our mother told us it’d be bigger.”

  “Unlike Rome and Athens, my dear friend,” Lucius said. “Sparta didn’t concern itself with constructing great buildings and expanding their city as far as possible. They focused on building the quality of their men.”

  “Sounds like a story you were told being tucked in at night,” Aulus said with a wink.

  Lucius sighed. “You know damn well my grandfather never ‘tucked me in.’”

  “Well, no matter. Why couldn’t they at least build walls? What kind of city doesn’t have walls?” Aulus balked. We began down a hill toward the city’s barren entrance.

  “They didn’t need them,” I said. “The shields of their warriors were their walls.”

  Aulus chuckled. “Where are those shielded warriors now?”

  We said nothing.

  As Lucius led us down the hill several individuals in the distance formed to greet us.

  “This is the upper echelon of Spartan society. Don’t carry on with all that blather in front of them,” Lucius said, and we both knew to whom he was talking.

  “The upper echelon of a conquered people? I saw a beggar in the forum once covered in his own piss who outranks them.”

  Lucius whipped around and shot Aulus a look that shut him up. We said nothing until we reached the nobles.

  “Greetings, friends of Sparta!” one said. “We welcome you.”

  A halt was called and the cohorts stayed behind while Lucius, my brother, and I rode forward.

  “Greetings, friends of Rome,” Lucius said. “We salute you.” Lucius offered the traditional Roman salute. Aulus and I would have both been laughing at their awkward response if not for fear of Lucius’ reprisal.

  “We do welcome you, most humbly to this place…” Another man, dark-skinned and sharp-jawed like a warrior, stepped forward. “Although we do not know what has brought you here.” He leaned to get a better view of the men. “And why you have brought so many guests.”

  Lucius handed his reins to a single legionary and pounced from his steed gracefully. He approached and stuck out his hand to the man. The Spartan accepted, but I saw him wipe his own hand off with distaste the moment it was released.

  “We’ve received word there is possible insurrection in Lakonia.”

  The nobles looked at one another, flabbergasted and afraid.

  “I’m certain that’s impossible,” the oldest and most unshapely of them said. “That can’t be. Sparta is ever an ally to Rome.”

  If the tone was different I might have reminded him that Sparta was not our ally, but our subject. I declined and allowed Lucius to continue.

  “Let me rephrase myself. We’ve received word that there is definitely insurrection in Lakonia.”

  I smiled. Perhaps Lucius had the stuff about him after all.

  The nobles squirmed.

  “Well… we will assist you in your search then,” the warrior said.

  “We’ll have a dinner in your honor, Roman,” the old one said, and Lucius beamed.

  Another warrior, tall and thick stepped forward. “We can discuss matters over wine and bread.” I was stunned to hear the voice of a woman, until I noticed the shapely limbs and beautiful face which could only belong to a goddess.

  “We... we’d be happy to,” Lucius said, suddenly lacking authority.

  “The lady will be joining us?” Aulus asked, equally smitten.

  She lifted her chin. “This isn’t a sysstion, but a meeting of peers. Spartan women are free women. Yes, I will be in attendance.”

  The Spartan nobles looked down and kicked the dirt but didn’t say anything.

  “Lead the way,” Lucius said, not taking his eyes off her.

  “What about your men?” The suntanned warrior said.

  “They’ll set up camp here.”

  “So close?” the old fat one said.

  “Break for camp!” I shouted back at the centurions.

  Lucius nodded. “For your protection.”

  The legends were certainly right in at least one thing: the Spartans were austere.

  They spoke with pride about their banquet hall, but I’ve never seen a more sparse and insignificant dining area. Unlike the plush Roman couches of the patrician villas, their hay-filled couches were little more than long stools. Aulus had a particular hard time bending his legs at a proper angle for comfort.

  “We’ll serve you a traditional Spartan meal,” the oldest said, now identified as Patrobos.

  “What might we expect?” Aulus said while squirming.

  “Vinegar pig legs in black blood broth,” the chiseled warrior called Meleagros answered.

  “Oh, how lovely,” Aulus said, “thank you.” My brother was closest to me so I reached over and tugged at the long blonde hair of his leg to shut him up. If he upset Lucius during his first moment of leadership, I’d feel the wrath too. That’s part of being a twin—we share the blame and the spoils evenly.

  But Lucius was too busy pining over the warrior lady named Andromache.

  Aulus and I both noticed it and my brother winked.

  He leaned over to Lucius and whispered, “Stare any more intently and her tunic will co
me undone.”

  Lucius elbowed him and turned the color of his soldier’s cloak.

  “May we discuss in Greek?” Patrobos said.

  I watched Lucius exhale. Aulus and I learned the basics as children, but Lucius was occupied toiling on his grandfather’s farm. I knew he was thinking of Sertorius, who was as fluent in Greek as he was Latin.

  “I prefer if we speak in the Roman tongue, if you don’t mind,” Lucius said. They nodded their consent.

  Male servants with dark locks of hair brought out plates of simple bronze and doled them out. I kept waiting for more to be served, but the meager portions offered us would be all.

  Lucius cleared his throat and tore his eyes away from Andromache. “Athens was attacked. I’m certain you’ve heard.” He pretended he liked his food, but I knew better.

  All the Spartan nobles looked to one another. Some of them looked afraid.

  “We haven’t heard,” Patrobos said, particularly concerned.

  I said, “Yes. Many lives were lost and many buildings were burned.” I took a small bite.

  Several of the nobles flushed and shifted in their seats.

  “What cause did you have to attack Athens?” Meleagros said.

  “No, you misunderstand,” Aulus said with a mouthful of blood broth. “It was attacked by the same rebels we’re now looking for.”

  Their posture seemed to relax.

  “I’m certain the brigands you seek are not here. We’d have caught wind and executed them.” Patrobos dabbed at his balding head with a napkin.

  “I’m afraid we must be thorough,” Lucius said. “The captives claimed they answered to a man in Lakonia called ‘Polemarch’.”

  “Polemarch is a position, not a name,” Meleagros said.

  “Yes, of course.” Lucius nodded.

  “And that position has been vacant for over a century.” Patrobos was quick to add. “How can you be certain the captives spoke truth?”

  All eyes fell to Lucius while he stirred his untouched pig leg in the broth.

  “Men have a habit of telling the truth when they’ve just watched all their companions die.”