“I know. We listened to every word,” Didius said, his eyes unblinking. Everyone omitted a collective exhale when the tent flap closed behind Marius. Everyone except Didius. “What did I say about whiffs of sedition?”
I was in an impossible situation. I felt my skin heating up and I turned to my commander. “Without insulting a former Consul and the Third Founder of Rome, I stood my ground. I couldn’t risk offending him, or the information we sought could be lost.”
In disgust, Didius said, “Could he really be so petty?”
“I assure you he can be.”
“You understand how it looks for you to share private words and wine with him? You understand he is an enemy of mine?”
I set the still full cup of wine on Didius’ desk. “And he is no ally of mine.”
“Really?” His eyes narrowed.
“I have no allies. And no enemies, I hope. I fight for the Republic and the home of my birth, Nursia. If anyone is willing to fight alongside me, I call them friend. Anyone against me, I call them enemy.”
He continued to stare deep into my eye, looking for any sign of fear. I was determined to display none.
“Good work on attaining this information, Legate Sertorius,” he said, perhaps sarcastically.
“I serve your will, commander.”
He returned to his seat. “You’re right about that,” he said beneath his breath. “Boy! Show your former master to his new quarters.”
Castor nodded and led toward the doorway.
“New quarters?” I asked.
“Yes. Somewhere a bit closer to the praetorium. Somewhere I can keep an eye on you.”
I saluted and followed my old shield bearer. To where, I did not know.
He walked faster than usual, and not by my side.
“Castor, would you not talk to me?” I called after him.
He stopped before a lowly tent just a few paces away from the praetorium. “This is where the commander wants you to stay.” He did everything he could to avoid my eye.
“I don’t care about that,” I said, although I did. “I want to know why you won’t speak to me.”
“You didn’t have to kill them all!” he shouted as legionaries perked up around the camp.
“Castor—”
“No! They were defenseless and unarmed and you had them all killed!” He wept.
“Part of being a leader is—”
“No! All those men…” He squeezed his eyes shut to hold back the tears, his fists trembling.
“There isn’t a Roman officer in the legion that wouldn’t have done the same. Most would’ve done worst.”
He struggled to breathe. “I cannot believe you.”
“Castor… you are my brother,” I pleaded.
“My brother wouldn’t do that.” He turned from me and hurried away, the legionaries around us both shocked at the disrespect and finding his outburst humorous.
Niarchos popped his head from the tent.
“Sertorius?” he said, but I watched Castor hurry back to Didius tent.. I didn’t even realize my Greek friend was present for a moment. “They told me this was your quarters. I’ve brought you some letters.” He spoke tenderly.
“Thank you,” I said, following him into my new tent, not half the size of a legate’s typical quarters.
He attempted to be cheerful. “I hope they bring you good tidings.”
“We’ll share a cup of wine, if you’d like,” I said.
“Of course. I’ll always share a cup with you.”
I took the letters from him. “I hope you don’t mind if I read these first? It’s been a difficult few days and I long to hear from my wife.”
“Far be it from me to deny a man a moment with his loved ones.” He smiled and found a simple chair by my cot.
Rather than the words of my wife, I was surprised to find the writing of my son.
Father,
I write with ill news. Arrea was going to write, but I believe it is my duty as your son and the leader of this house in your absence. There have been riots in Rome. The Tribune Drusus has followed in the footsteps of Saturninus and Glaucia, who others say were once your friends. He has created violence around the city to inact his measures. From my studies, I believe he is much like the Gracchi. Do you know of them? I’ve been reading.
I ramble. I wish we could speak plainly and in person.
The riots have led to widespread looting and burning—
I crumpled the letter and bowed my head, shaken to my core.
Niarchos placed a cup of wine on an oak table beside me. “Ill tidings?”
I did not reply but unfurled the letter and continued to read.
—and we have been at risk. Fortunately, your senatorial colleague Lucius Cornelius Sulla has sent men to protect us. He has been here several times himself and says he considers it an honor and a service to Rome to protect your family in your absence. We’ve continued to show him your gratitude, since you’re unable to.
I bellowed, “No!” And threw the cup of wine across the room.
Niarchos kept his eyes to the ground out of respect. “I can leave if you’d like,” he said as I fought for breath.
“No,” I managed to say. I fought back tears; I fought back the urge to vomit.
Since I arrived in Greece, I’d seen a little girl clinging to a piece of wood. I was there to witness a lifeless prostitute who so recently carried the joy of a child. I’d seen the birthplace of democracy burn, witnessed sedition and treachery, and buried my men. All this made bearable by the knowledge that my family was safe.
Now I knew they weren’t. Rome was just as violent and tumultuous as I’d left it. And to think my family had been driven into the arms of Sulla… my enemy. I knew the man. He carried with him an agenda as surely as his own lungs. He knew what he was doing. And he was a deceiver, a manipulator… a womanizer. The brief image of Arrea in his arms flashed before my mind, but I forced it out, unable to bear it.
“Niarchos.” I swallowed hard. “I feel as if I’m being abandoned by everyone. I’m losing everything.” I crumpled the paper into a ball and placed my head in my hands.
“I’ve felt the same once before.” He shook his head at the memory. “When I received a wound that rendered me unable to have children… Anthea, she never cursed me for it, but I could see the disappointment in her eyes. There was more than a time or two when I held a dagger to my wrists.”
“What stayed your hand?” I did all I could to preserve my dignity and keep the tears in my eye.
He came and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Knowing the gods had something left in store for me.”
“I suppose they do,” I said. “You’re right, Niarchos. Thank you.”
He poured me another cup and we sipped in silence together. The gods might have something in store for me indeed, but what that was exactly, I didn’t know. If the Pythia spoke truth, it wasn’t good.
Scroll XXII
Lucius Hirtuleius
Here I was, in my first position of command—an opportunity I’d been waiting for since I was a child. As a boy I’d lay awake at night dreaming about winning glory in battle; only I imagined my grandfather would still be around to tell me he was proud.
Now I finally had my chance, and I could think of nothing but a woman. I chastised myself for it. I’d always had a weakness for women. Not like Sertorius or the twins, who had been wooing young women in Nursia since we were old enough to shave. They chased women and women chased them, creating all sorts of drama when we were boys.
It was different for me. My weakness was only in the mind. I dwelled on them with a pining that made my soldier’s heart stop, always from a respectful distance. I possessed enough confidence to get a woman, or at least I believed, but growing up without a mother left me inept at talking to them. I placed them on a pedestal. I revered the beauty of a woman nearly as much as I revered the gods. With a desire to treat them how I wished my mother had been treated, I considered myself too lowly to even
enjoy their presence.
But Andromache latched onto my thoughts in a way few had before. How foolish? She could be the Polemarch for all I knew, but yet I lay awake that night considering her every feature, imagining what her dark locks must smell like.
So naturally when she invited me to attend the theater with her, I accepted. I ensured the twins remained in camp so they couldn’t tease me, and I set off for the agora of Sparta.
I nervously paced while I awaited her arrival. Surrounded by monuments, statues, and war prizes of old, and yet I considered none of them. I brushed back my hair, licked my thumb and smoothed down my bushy brows.
“I’m surprised you found us,” her sweet voice sounded from behind me. She approached with a smile and her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. “They say officers have a penchant for getting lost.”
I grinned and searched for something to say but finding nothing I remained in awkward silence.
“Do you attend the theater much in Rome?”
“No. Not me. I’ve rarely been within the city since I joined the legion,” I said , casting my gaze to the ancient stones beneath us.
“How strange,” she said. “for you soldiers to fight for a city you so rarely see.” She crossed her arms, her biceps as defined and sinewy as most of my legionaries.
“We don’t fight for the city, ma’am,” I said. “We fight for an idea. For prosperity and peace. For glory.”
“Now you speak the language of the Spartans.” She smiled. I caught myself staring at her bow shaped lips, and quickly looked away red-faced. “Do you enjoy the theater when you happen to attend it?”
“Me? Yes… certainly.” I swallowed.
“I can’t stand it,” she said.
“By the gods, me either. It’s nonsense.” I sighed with relief.
“Just look at them up there.” She pointed to the two actors on the makeshift stage, one playing the role of a woman with bright white powder covering his face. “It’s silly. As if they don’t know tragedy lurks in every corner behind them.”
“Perhaps the people need their laughter,” I said. “or to see the tragedy in the lives of others to make their own pale in comparison.”
She investigated me with raised brows. “You speak as someone who enjoys the shows”
“I might, if I could only follow them.” I shrugged. “Not smart enough.”
The actors continued to trounce around the stage to the laughter of the crowd, the protagonist completely unaware he was being cuckolded right behind his back.
“My scouts should be back before the sun reaches the mountain.” She pointed to the massive Mt. Taygetos behind the theater. If that was true they’d be there within the hour, if I estimated the sun’s movements properly, which I rarely did.
“I hope they bring good news. I’m ready for battle.”
“Aye.” She nodded. “It’s strange isn’t it? Spartans and Romans fighting alongside one another? It was so recently we were at war. Now we’re your subjects.”
“We’re all playthings for the gods, aren’t we?” I said, raising my voice above the sound of the laughter.
“Some more than others. You Romans are noted for your cruelty. Especially toward Greeks.” She kept her eyes on the stage and I kept my eyes on her.
“Remember it was the Greeks who started it all. Greece raised a fleet like the world had never seen before to destroy the city of Troy, our ancestors. Our conquest of the Aegean was simply cold revenge,” I said tongue-in-cheek, and she seemed to realize it.
“The Romans must be a petty and patient people then, to remember crimes committed so long ago.”
“You have no idea.” I shook my head.
We turned our attention to the play and listened as the comedy reached its climax. I couldn’t follow. I laughed when she did, but I realized then I hadn’t heard a word, clueless about what was going on.
“Do you have no husband?” I said, immediately regretting it as the laughter made it the most inopportune time.
“What?”
I doubled down and repeated anyways.
She shook her head. “No. I’ve been used by men, both Greek and Roman alike. Now no man would want me, and I want no man.”
I was stunned by the candor with which she spoke, but she showed no sign of shame or malice. “I am sorry I asked.”
She shook her head. “It’s the way of the world. If only I’d been born a man, I would rule Greece.”
I smiled. “I have no doubt,” I said and meant it.
“Ma’am,” two men said, approaching us from behind. They ignored me but bowed their heads before her. “We’ve returned from Corinth.” She led them by the arm away from the crowd, so we might hear better. I followed.
“What news do you bring?” she said, something of her gait reminding me of a general like Marius.
“There are indeed armed men within. They believed us to be members of their rebellion and allowed us in with open arms.”
“There are many of them,” the other added.
“How many?” she asked.
“Thousands to be certain, all well-armed. They looked like men from the east.”
Andromache and I exchanged a look.
“Can a Roman legion take them on?” I asked.
“Doubtless,” one said, but kept his eyes on her.
“A Roman legion plus the Spartan guard. In good faith, our two hundred warriors will ride out with you,” she said. The two men looked perplexed but said nothing.
“When can we move on them?” I said.
One of the scouts said, “They are about to celebrate the festival of Dionysia. For the next three days they’ll be drunken, addled wrecks.”
“Now is the time to strike,” the other said.
I looked to Andromache for her thoughts.
She considered it, her eyes glossing over the way Marius’ did when he considered all branching possibilities. “Yes. This is the best opportunity we’ll be granted.”
“I agree,” I said quickly.
“We should leave tomorrow morning by cover of darkness. With a full army it will be three days march.”
“We Romans move fast. My legion can cover thirty miles a day if need be.”
“Then let us get our rest,” she said. “Tomorrow we leave and earn our place in Elysium.”
The scouts bowed and departed. She nodded and touched my arm when she left.
It was the kind of touch one friend gives to another, and yet the feeling lingered. What a fool I was, but at least the twins weren’t around to see me blushing.
Put a sword in my hand though, I return to being a proud, manly Roman. And the sword was certainly about to be drawn.
Spurius Insteius
The sky was blue like the Mediterranean’s deepest waters as we gathered outside the walls of Corinth, the sun creeping behind the Achaean hills in the distance.
There was a nip in the air, but I knew it wasn’t the chill causing the fresher legionaries to shiver and their chainmail to jingle.
Lucius, Aulus, and I marched to the front of the formation of legionaries with only our tribune’s crest to designate us as officers. Our oldest friend took the center, while my brother and I stood at his flanks.
Our forces waited in complete silence. The only sound was the carrion birds squawking above us.
“Are they waiting for our dead, or the enemy’s?” Aulus asked.
Lucius said, “Sertorius told me crows circle above their own dead, crying out like that to honor them. Perhaps they honor us.” He exhaled.
Sliding his gladius from its sheath, he took a knee and slammed the blade into the moist earth. We waited for him to speak, but for some time he remained silent, staring at the ground and rubbing his thumb over the hilt of his sword. “Break formation. Loose ranks on me,” he said. The centurions echoed back the call as the legionaries encircled us.
My heart thud beneath my armor as I feared he couldn’t find the right words to say, but I could tell he was serene even f
rom behind him.
He remained on his knee as he unbuckled his helm and set it beside him. He looked up and scanned the faces of our men. “Some of you joined the legion to serve this Republic. Others for land, wealth, or glory. Others still because you had no other options. Some to honor your ancestors and the dead,” he said. In one swift motion he pounced to his feet and freed his sword from the ground, pointing the tip toward Corinth. “But it matters not. All that matters now is how you conduct yourself beyond those walls!”
Some of the men cheered, but most remained silent, teeth grinding and knees shaking.
“Today you fight not for a politician or a general, but for one who so recently wore the issued sandals now chafing your feet.” He pounded his chest. Some of them smiled. “More importantly, regardless of why you joined—you fight not for any of that but for the man beside you. Protect him with your shield and he’ll protect you with his.”
The centurions, experienced enough to know what the men needed, unsheathed their swords and banged them against their shields.
“And it’s a glorious thing we do today,” Lucius said, squaring off with individual legionaries as if he were talking directly to them. “For Rome is under attack. Our great Republic and our way of life is threatened by the cowards within these walls. Will you follow me to stop them?”
“We’ll follow you!” they shouted.
The centurions added in a stomp and some of the men joined in.
“Then look!” Lucius shouted. He pointed his sword to the heavens and looked up with it. “I see there our fathers and grandfathers!”
He looked to me with wide and wild eyes, so I added, “And our brothers, too!”
Aulus chimed in “All our people, all of Rome’s warriors, back to the beginning.”
“They call to us!” Lucius said. “They beckon us to join them in Elysium. Can you hear them?”
All the men joined the centurions now, stomping and beating their shields rhythmically with our words.
Lucius cried, “They call us to Elysium, where the brave may live forever!”
Whom Gods Destroy: A Novel of Ancient Rome (The Sertorius Scrolls Book 4) Page 20
