Swords of Rome

by Christopher Lee Buckner

  He sighed as he had to start his way home. If he didn’t, his father would be angry with him. He still felt the effects of the last time he had made the mistake of getting back home after nightfall.

  “I have to go home before it is too dark,” Gaius said, but he wasn’t sure if his friends actually heard him, as Antony, taller than his six-year-old sister, was mocking her foolish attempts to beat him with her tiny fists.

  Julia, while four years younger than her brother, held her own. She never backed down from a challenge, or let her brother bully her. So she would fight him, confront any attempt to demean her, especially when she was with Gaius. He figured that Julia felt she had to prove herself worthy to play with the boys, or risk being cast out if she should back down.

  For all the talk and physical torment that Antony committed against his sister, it was clear to Gaius that he loved and looked out for her as any good brother should. He simply wasn’t accustomed to having to share his friends with a girl, who demanded daily to play with the two boys, namely because she desired to be around Gaius as much as she could.

  Julia followed them day after day, like a little mascot as the two filled the afternoon with fantastical wonders, pretending to be warriors or acting classical stories, as champions defending Greece from Troy, or the Persians, or battling the fearsome Cyclops, the Hydra, or the frightful snake-haired Medusa. On occasion the two found use for her, such as their need for a girl to play the part of Helen of Troy. However, stubbornly, Julia was always more interested in the here and now — being around Gaius, and preferring that she, not an alter ego, be the object of his affections.

  He found her cute, to say the least. She was an adorable young lady, even though she was half his age. She had a small, dainty body, groomed to someday be a proper Roman woman. Her hair smelled of scented oils and was curled in strands around her bangs. Her nails were painted different colors almost every day as she was tended by a dozen slaves, all women who acted like second mothers. Julia didn’t care about being a girl, trapped in her physical limitations. She liked being around the boys and playing their games. It might have proven an issue if her father was around more, but he spent most of his time in the city. Her mother was gone, having died during childbirth when Julia was born. Perhaps that was, as Gaius figured, why the two rich children of a Roman senator found common interest with a simple farm boy, as Gaius had lost his mother also.

  “I have to go home,” Gaius called out again as he picked his wooden sword up off the ground; bashing it against the dirt road, so he could dislodge some of the loose mud from the blade that meant to simulate a Roman gladius, the standard sword of Rome’s infantry.

  “I will walk with you,” Antony replied quickly as he let go of his sister, who was pushing against him with all her might. The act caused her to fall to the ground as Antony turned and grabbed his own things that lay up against the fence; his wooden sword that was designed more in the fashion of a longer Greek blade, a simple wool cloak and a small water skin.

  “I will come as well,” Julia eagerly said as she picked herself up off of the ground, already forgetting her skirmish with her brother.

  “No! You go home, Julia. And take these with you,” Antony called out as he walked over and dropped his things into her arms.

  “I want to come with you,” she demanded as she dropped the items to the ground.

  “Julia! Take these and go home — Now!” Antony demanded once more, harshly, as he picked his things up and again pushed them into her arms. However, she continued to refuse as she crossed her arms, not giving him an inch.

  Gaius smiled as he shook his head. He knew he had to intervene if this matter was going to be resolved within the time he had. These two could argue for hours if they were allowed to continue without interruption.

  “Go home, Julia. I promise you and I can play a game, just the two of us, tomorrow,” Gaius said calmly.

  “Do you promise?” she asked.

  “Have I ever broken a promise to you?”

  She rushed over to Gaius and threw her arms around him, calling out, “I love you Gaius!” before she turned and hastily grabbed her brother’s things and ran up the road, heading back in the direction of her own home. Technically, she was already home, as everything for miles in all directions was owned by their father.

  “I guess you just need to know how to speak to women,” Antony commented.

  “Maybe we should walk her home, before you, and I leave,” Gaius suggested.

  “She will be fine. What could happen to her on my father’s property?”

  The land that was owned by Gaius’ father wasn’t anywhere close to the size of Antony’s. His land was simple, enough for a family to live on without due hardships. The property, as Gaius knew, had been reward given to his father after many faithful years of service to the Republic. He had fought and nearly died in the last war that Rome fought with its oldest of enemies, the nation to the east, Carthage. Gaius did not the particulars of what happened, but his father had become a celebrated hero. For that, he was given this land, which now was overgrown with weeds, an unkempt field, and a home that was barely standing. Sometimes he was embarrassed to bring Antony here as he came from a wealthy family who never knew what it was to want. The land that the two boys had played on was only the tip of Antony’s estate, which extended for thousands of square miles, and was attended to by five hundred slaves and workers, which tended to the fields, grounds and other profitable endeavors.

  Antony, however, at no time said anything disrespectful about the state of Gaius’ home. He always shared what was his, never asking for anything in return other than a good friend with whom he could act out their favorite adventures, such as the Battle of Troy, Hercules and his Twelve Trials, or Alexander the Great’s conquest of Persia. Gaius observed that Antony had a hard time making friends because of his father’s status within Rome, as one of its wealthiest citizens and leading members of the Senate. Antony knew plenty of boys who pretended to be his friend, but typically, these friendships sought because of influence, political or financial favors. Gaius, on the other hand, had no hidden agenda or dishonest intentions. As a result, while they had only known one another for little over a year, they had grown very close, almost brothers.

  Julia, on the other hand, came along only a few months ago, when she was old enough to keep up with them. She was in a worse state than her brother. She had no friends to call her own, as most of her father’s associates' daughters were either too old, or only had sons. Regardless, she enjoyed more boyish games than what was typically expected of young ladies.

  Once she joined the two in their frequent adventures, her affection for Gaius grew. She had an obvious crush on him, and for a time, it bothered him, given his non experience with girls. However, he grew to accept Julia’s less than vague hints about her desire to marry him, even though both barely understood what the concept entailed. Ultimately, he grew to like her as much as he did Antony- his extended family of a sort.

  The two boys continued their play as they neared Gaius’ home, as they pitted their wooden swords against one another in a running, uphill battle, as the sun was nearly below the western horizon.

  Antony pretended he was a great swordsman. He loved tales of the blade and often imagined he was a master with it. Honestly, he was just a boy, and his skills extended only to basic thrust and poor blocks. Gaius, on the other hand, while no master was more practiced. His father showed him years ago how to handle and properly wield a sword — how to respect the weapon and use it if need be to protect himself. Because of this, he held back when playing. He didn’t want to hurt Antony’s feelings by winning each bout, but he wasn’t going to lose them all either. He made sure to keep their victories and defeats about even, and along the way he showed Antony few useful tricks to improve s own form. The gesture was appreciated and made their games all the more enjoyable.

  “So, did I tell you that I was going into the city in a few days?” Antony spoke as he t
hrust his sword high, which was easily parried by Gaius.

  “The city? You are going to Rome?”

  “Yes. And I was wondering if you would like to accompany me? It is the last day of the games, and there is to be a festival in honor of Jupiter. My father said I could bring a friend along, if I so choose. And who better than you?”

  Gaius couldn’t help but smile at Antony’s words. For as long as he could remember he had dreamt of going to Rome, the capital of the Republic — the greatest city on the face of the earth. It had always annoyed him greatly how close he lived outside the city, yet had never been allowed to see Rome for himself.

  “Yes, of course I would like to go. You know I do!” Gaius replied enthusiastically. “But…” a terrible thought suddenly entered his mind, which wiped the wide smile from his face.

  “What is it?”

  “My father — I would have to ask him, and I don’t have to tell you what his feelings are about Rome,” Gaius answered; his voice filled with doubt.

  “I am sure you can convince him, if you try. But, let me know by tomorrow, will you? Good day, Gaius.” Antony patted Gaius on the shoulder as he turned and raced down the hill, heading back towards his father’s lands; swinging at the overgrown weeds with his sword as his mind was still trapped in the body of classical heroes.

  Gaius felt a knot begin to form in the pit of his stomach. The prospect of having to convince his father into letting him go was daunting, and as he neared his front door, he began running through his mind what words he would use that might better his chances. However, none came to mind as he reached his house.

  Gaius reached for the old and worn wooden handle that led to his home. He took a deep breath before he pulled down the latch and opened the door. He had just gotten home by the expected time, but as he entered he could clearly see that his father was nowhere in sight, which brought a faint sense of relief as he sealed the door shut, and then putting his things by his bed, which was set against the far left corner of the small home.

  Gaius scrunched his nose as he smelled what was cooking over the small fireplace directly in front of the door. A large cast-iron pot sat over the medium-burning flame. The contents inside: a brown sloppy mess, which he was all too familiar with eating over the past two years, was boiling over. He didn’t wait for his father to come back before he reached on top of the fireplace and pulled down one of the two bowls and spoons that rested above.

  Stirring the stew, which made him turn his head slightly from the smell, Gaius finally scooped out a large portion for and spooned it into his bowl, before walking over to the long table that sat on the opposite side of the room, and took one of the stools.

  The stew smelled worse than it actually tasted, but after having to swallow the slop nearly every day for two years, since his mother’s passing, he was beyond tolerant of it by now.

  It was a shade of brown; thick and had a foul odor that reminded him of a dead rabbit he found last year behind the barn, which had been decomposing for a week. Inside was cuts of beef, various vegetables and some other stuff he had never been able to identify, nor was he sure that he wanted to.

  Gaius grabbed a hearty piece of bread, tearing it free from the loaf and dipped it into the bowl. As he took his first bite, as he always did, he plugged his nose with one hand, while scoping a spoonful into his mouth with the other. Then soon after, he poured himself a cup of water from a clay jug that sat in the center of the table, and gulped it down in one sitting, before pouring another cup. He repeated this process for the first five minutes, eating as quickly as he could, both because he was hungry, and out of nervousness about what he was going to say to his father when he returned. A part of him wished he might get to bed sooner so that he could avoid the conversation altogether. However, he had promised Antony he would see what his father said about the subject of going to Rome.

  Gaius heard the latch on the front door as his father stepped inside, carrying a stack full of logs in one arm, and a heavy iron axe in his other.

  He glanced back at his father, Julius, as he set the logs down by the fire — sweat dripping down from his brow as he then walked over to the fireplace and readied his own bowl of stew.

  Julius was a tall, muscular man, taller and bigger than most Roman men, which were contributed to the family’s Gallic ancestry. He had tanned skin that glistened with perspiration. His hair, even though he had been out of the legions for going on eleven years, was still trimmed neatly, low and tight around the ears and above the nap of his neck. His left eye was partly clouded, which obscured his vision, and while his exterior was rough, no one save for Gaius knew that inside, his body was failing him.

  As he sat across from Gaius and shoved a spoonful of stew into his mouth, a number of deep scars that ran along his thick muscular arms shined neatly in the low flickering candlelight, symbols of the many battles he fought and lived through during his youth with the legions.

  Julius moaned for a brief moment, a sound that Gaius was familiar with. He was in almost constant pain, with few days free from the torment. While it bothered him a great deal, he was not about to voice his discomfort to anyone beyond a few groans and moans. Gaius did not know what ailed him precisely, only that his continuing problems must have been the reason why he left the legions a decade earlier.

  It was not uncommon for Julius to wake in the middle of the night, haunted by dreams of his past deeds and torments suffered. Two-year’s prior Gaius’ mother would have been there to calm him, but since her passing, things had only gotten worse.

  A few nights ago, Gaius caught his father rummaging through the large footlocker that he kept under his bed. Inside was his gear, the effects and weapons of a Roman soldier. He noticed, as he watched him, hidden in the shadows of the moonless night that he seemed most interested in the crest that was engraved on the chest plate of his armor. Later, when he was certain, his father was gone for the day, tending to the grounds, Gaius snuck a peek inside the footlocker and saw what his father had been staring at so intensely. The plate was engraved with an ivory wolf’s head. The craftsmanship was beautiful, and it must have been worth a small fortune; enough, if sold, to rebuild the house and replant the fields, yet it remained locked away, carefully wrapped in a silk cloth.

  Whatever its meaning to his father, Gaius had yet to ask. Since then, every so often, he would sneak another peek; rub his fingers over the extremely detailed image of the white wolf, and wonder what it must have been like for his father to have worn the armor into battle. He would never dare to ask him about his military past. Some mysterious were best kept under the bed.

  Gaius put his spoon down before he took a deep breath, and then spoke.

  “Father, I would like to ask you something.”

  “What?” Julius asked with a grunt as he chewed.

  “My friend, Antony, has asked me to accompany him to Rome in two days. There is a festival in the city, and he said that I could come, if you agreed.”

  “Antony?” Julius seemed to ponder the name for a moment before he spoke again. “That is Maximus Titus Varro’ son?” he then asked as pulled out a small bone from between his teeth.

  “Yes father. We are friends. We have been for some time now,” Gaius answered, knowing he had mentioned Antony’s name numerous times — A futile effort. He had better luck speaking to and getting a reaction from a stone wall.

  Julius never raised his eyes from his food as he shoved another hefty spoonful into his mouth before he answered, scraping the bowl clean as he spoke.

  “No. There is too much work that is needed around here for you to run off and play in the city.”

  “But father…I can do all my chores before I leave. And besides, I won’t be gone longer than a day and half, two days at the maximum. I promise,” Gaius pleaded as he moved his still full bowl aside, and stared at his father, who hardly acknowledged what he was asking.

  “Rome is not a place for a boy of your age, Gaius.”

  “But father, I will
be thirteen in two months — almost a man. And I won’t be alone. Antony’s slaves will be with us the entire time, and his father as well.”

  Julius finally looked up and stared long and hard, clearly growing frustrated by his son’s unwillingness to drop the matter, even though he had already given his answer.

  “I said no, and that is final, Gaius. I will hear no more on this subject. Is that understood?” He waited for Gaius to answer, which he did after a long pause. “Yes father.”2

  There was an awkward break between the father and son as Julius stared at Gaius in silence for a moment longer, watching him swirl his spoon around the edges of the stew, clearly disappointed, but not seemingly expecting otherwise.

  “And besides, I need you here.”

  “Of course, father,” Gaius added before his father was finished speaking.

  “There is someone coming in a few days — someone whom I want you to meet. It is important that you be here.”

  “Who is coming, father?” Gaius asked, just a bit curious as he kept his head low, still playing with his food as his disappointed thoughts drifted endlessly. He wasn’t looking forward to telling Antony that he couldn’t go with him to Rome.

  “He is an old friend of mine. He has come a very long way, just to see you,” Julius finished.

  “Me? Why?” Gaius’ interest was finally piqued as he looked up at his father, waiting for him to answer. However, Julius sat still for a long while, seemly contemplating what he was going to say.

  “Because…” The two were silent for nearly a full minute as Julius froze before he could complete his sentence. There was much that he seemed to want to say as he gazed into Gaius’ eyes, but for some reason, he held his tongue and returned to the previous subject.

  “A day and half, you say, maybe two?”

  Gaius’ eyes opened wider with the sudden, unexpected words that seemly flew out from his father’s mouth.