The Bane of Gods

by Alaric Longward

  Gaius looked at him with a small, disappointed smile. “So be it. Rome knows how to stab others in the back as well as anyone. Perhaps we will do just that with Parthia after. I should have known better. I am so tired with all this shitty treason. We will take the city, and let gods keep the people safe.”

  He was terrified of what would follow when the city fell.

  I stared at Gaius, worried for him, and looked back at the city.

  “Where in the name of Tiw’s bloody eye are they?” Wandal was muttering softly. “They got lost?”

  “Negotiating,” I told him softly. “Still there, I think. Before the gates.”

  He wasn’t the only one who was impatient. Ariobarzanes and Juba II were riding for us now. Both looked ready to command the legions forward. Unfortunately, the new king only had five hundred men of his own.

  “You think they will truly fight us?” Sejanus asked as he walked to us. He watched the two legion legati speaking and laughing, not far, their gilded helms glinting in the light of Sunna, and with not a single worry in the world. The two looked like they were preparing for a wedding. The third legion was commanded by a wide-stripe tribune, as the legatus was in Rome for personal business, and the poor man was left with all the practical matters of laying out the sieging plans, since the two legati were more than happy to skip overseeing the mundane affairs. The prefect of a Syrian auxilia turma was staring at the proceedings with utter boredom. The legion Aquila gleamed dully, and the guards were sweating.

  So, we waited for the envoys, until Gaius stirred, and echoed Wandal.

  “Any sight of them?” he asked. “I could learn a language faster than they make terms.”

  I shook my head. “They are still before the gates. At least it’s shaded.”

  Our negotiators, two young tribunes with centurion guards had been sent hours ago as the enemy had requested their presence after a day of contemplation, but so far, I had seen no gate opening, and our men would be there still, in the shadow of the wall. A slight insult, but one nonetheless. The legions kept toiling, the immunes busily working on their specialties, regular milites working on camps and the walls and trenches, and slaves were procuring water supplies and stealing food, but ten thousand men were all business under their standards and I didn’t envy the negotiators, for they could very well die if the Parthians had a say in it.

  The insult of the extended wait was gnawing on Gaius.

  They enemy knew he was there, under his Eagles, and still took its time.

  Gaius lost his patience.

  “Legatus!” he called.

  The senior legatus twitched, and rushed our way. He stepped past Juba II and the would-be Armenian king, and stopped before Gaius and gazed up. Gaius leaned down, and spoke as if the words were torn from his throat. “Start preparing the troops for the attack.”

  “Attack, lord?” the legatus asked dubiously. “The talks failed? Already?”

  “No,” Gaius said. “Have the men march forward. We are aiding the negotiations. Give them a reason to give our men an answer.”

  The legatus grinned. “My young tribunes are there. I don’t like any of them. Yes, we shall!”

  Gaius sighed. “Can you take the bitch of a city, in case they call the bluff?”

  He snorted and nodded. “We only have the ladders now. It’s not ideal, and will be shit-scary. If we wait a day or two, it will be less bloody. Two, three siege towers—we’ll whip them up fast—and dozens of ladders of course. A heavy ram, perhaps. Soften the boys with onagers and show our arses at them, march the legions forward to make them shit their thighs, and then march up in a testudo. Then it’s up and over and through the wall, and do what soldiers do. Kill, and the surviving men shall celebrate in the city. Oh, we’ll take the bitch and make her pregnant. They’ll be sorry they have decided to brood on the walls like vultures, denying the pretty king his seat. But if it must be today, it shall be bloody for us as well.”

  Ariobarzanes apparently heard him, but said nothing.

  “Indeed,” Gaius said, horrified of the celebrations of the soldiers. Then he frowned. “Hraban?”

  “Lord,” I said.

  “Is that a horse?” Gaius asked, his voice resonating with hope.

  I squinted. There were many horses, leaving the shadow of the gate. “Yes. They are coming back.”

  We watched them come. Three men, two locals in colorful robes and three Roman tribunes, young wastrels all, were riding like mad for us. There were also ten Praetorians, and three Germani Guards with them, and six centurions. Everyone in sight stopped doing what they were doing, and was staring at them. Many were praying there would be no battle, and others no doubt hoping there would be loot and carnage. The sight of so many people staring at them seemed to confuse the riders, and for a moment they missed Gaius near the Aquila. Two Guards pointed us out, and the tribunes also finally did. They rode hard, and one pimple faced tribune vaulted from the horse, and kneeled before Gaius and the legatus.

  “Well?” Gaius asked, mildly annoyed and swatting at flies. The wind was ruffling some trees nearby, and the drone of insects was constant and annoying, and loud enough to have the man miss Gaius’s words. He squinted.

  “Well?” Gaius called out again, and the tribune jumped to his feet. “What did that lizard Abaddon say?”

  “He,” the tribune said quickly, “took his time. But in the end, he watched over the army and reluctantly asked for terms.” He bowed to the king, Ariobarzanes, who was looking on nervously. “He is asking to be retained in his position, and to keep his wealth, but marching into the city is a delicate matter. He will need help throwing out the Parthian soldiers from the city.” The man smiled. “There were two Parthians near him, as he spoke to us. He did it very quietly. The man has balls of stone.”

  Gaius grinned with relief. “He is willing to let us shear the other sheep, but wants to keep his wool, eh?”

  “He is,” the man said with a small smile. “He looks like an angry, wise god from some mountain far away, with white, bushy hair and a gray beard, and wrinkled brow, but one could see he regrets heeding Parthian words. He doesn’t feel wise, he said.”

  Gaius nodded and snapped his fingers. “How does he propose we gather the other sheep for shearing, while we leave his head intact on his shoulders?” he asked. “And doesn’t he have many times more men than the Parthians?”

  “He doesn’t trust all his fellow nobles, and he has an idea,” the tribune said, wiping his face. Gaius leaned down, and handed him water, and the man took a swig graciously. “He personally commands two thousand men of the six or so in the city. He has assigned them to hold the gate this night. And he invites you to march in this very night.”

  Gaius smiled. “Truly? And where will he be?”

  “He will come here,” he said. “And he will prostrate before you. He will do so when the night has fallen. He will lead us in.”

  Gaius was nodding, and eyed the two men there. “Tell him we agree.” He turned to look at me. “Raven?”

  I nodded. “Lord?”

  “When we go in there, you will have men keep a sword on the man,” he said. “And if there is trouble, you will shear him first.”

  “I shall have Wandal keep a sword on him,” I said. “Very close to his arse.”

  Gaius nodded, men went to their duties, orders were barked, and legions moved to their camps, which were jutting defiantly around the city, save for the north, where auxilia cavalry kept a close eye on them.

  So, we waited.

  We followed Gaius to the camp of Legio VI Ferrata. His officia, the guards, and the Praetorians entered the bustling camp via Porta Decumana, and walked to the praetorium at the end of the Via Decumana. We passed hide tents laid out in disciplined rows, latrines, and even a simple bathhouse. Some men were sharpening weapons and fixing gear, and locals were selling their wares on the crossing of the fifth street. We pushed thought the people, guarding Gaius, and finally arrived at the great tents, red and golden po
sts gleaming. The horrerum, the warehouse was to the left and we passed the granaries. The standards were taken to the principia, the officia disappeared to perform their duties, and we followed Gaius for the heart of the praetorium. Gaius quickened his pace, as fresh scribes scrambled at the sight of the great man walking to the doorway of the tents reserved for the legatus and Gaius. He dodged under a flapping doorway to escape them.

  Our men turned and kept the scribes out. Sejanus stayed outside, and let his men spread around.

  Gaius walked fast to a part of the ten that was his, which was almost the entire middle part, and there, I watched him fall on his bed, holding his face.

  I nodded at Wandal, and entered calmly, standing just inside the room. I watched Gaius. “It will happen, Gaius.”

  “Will it?” he asked as he gazed at me from between his fingers.

  “No matter what he promises, and what you promise him, the legions will loot the city,” I said. “It is their right, they think. Part of their pay. And if you wish to rule, one day, you will love the soldiers and respect their needs. You have been told this before.”

  “I hate them,” he said scathingly. “I hate them and almost you, for saying such things.”

  “If you would rule,” I said again, “you must turn a blind eye, and harden your heart. Give them easy victory, and—”

  “If the victory is easy,” he insisted, “then there is no reason to make blood run—”

  I leaned towards him. “The men will risk their lives for you and Rome, anyway. Who knows, it might not be easy, but bloody deadly. We go in, and the men will chop off heads, and they will loot for a time. After that, the city won’t rebel again. Then the king will take over, and you will make sure he is surrounded by trusted men, some Roman,” I said. “Publius has told you all this plenty of times, lord.” I hesitated. “Lollius would have, as well.”

  He flinched at the mention of Lollius and looked at his hands. “I should have brought Livilla. She tells me the same things as any of them, but isn’t quite as smelly and ugly,” he laughed softly. “I don’t much like Publius Quintus, I am surprised to say. He is like a speaking tree, with rough bark and a moving mouth. He rarely takes over like Lollius did, but I think I need someone to do it. I feel like I could use someone holding me by my ball hair again.”

  I smiled.

  He sighed. “So be it. The place reeks of Parthian coin, and the disease of Eastern perfidy. Let the legions mold it to a Roman image for a day.” He shifted nervously. “I’ve made a decision.”

  I shifted my feet. “What is your decision?”

  “My vision,” he said bitterly, “is to have a home and a child or ten, and serve Rome when the need requires, Hraban. I shall not rule. This is strange, is it not?”

  I shifted my feet, and frowned. “You need to let your grandfather know this. It will be like speaking to a hungry lion, and trying to explain why it should not feed on you.”

  “I will,” he said simply. “He won’t eat me.”

  “Do not flaunt the decision before you see him,” I further advised him. “But I think you are wise.”

  It was sad, in a way.

  He frowned. “You are telling me not to speak of this to others? I will voice it aloud even if there are a dozen Germani brutes telling me not to do so!”

  He was smiling and I answered kindly. “There is only I, Gaius. You are leaving your grandfather with no way forward, so it will be hard for him. There is Germanicus, though not Postumus, who is not well. But still, he will be unhappy.”

  He nodded. “No, there is not going to be Germanicus.”

  “Eh?” I asked, confused.

  He smiled. “I will take the responsibility. And when Augustus is gone, and only then, I shall honor Rome by giving Rome back to the Senate. I will let my clients go. I shall let go of the provinces with the legions. It will be chaos, and some bastards will try to take over, but I will make sure it won’t happen. Let this burden be carried by many men, not by one. I see it all plainly now. It is the end of Rome if another Augustus arises. Germanicus will not rule, nor any other single man. I will make sure of it by pretending to be what Grandfather wants me to be.”

  “What of Germanicus, Drusus—”

  He snarled. “They will be senators, and if they are worthy, consuls, and most of all, citizens. This is my plan.”

  I flinched.

  “And Tiberius?” I asked.

  “He shall be found a position,” he said stubbornly. “I will retire, when all this is accomplished.” He waved his hand towards the city. “Now, let us finish this. The new king will enter the city after the legion’s first cohorts, as Abaddon requested. At the gates will await the nobles of the city, ready to bow to him, and Rome. Publius said we should be there as well. We shall go in with him.”

  I nodded, and we waited for the evening.

  Soon, the enemy arrived to betray his city.

  CHAPTER 21

  The night was silent save for the damned insects. Their noise was twice as bad as it had been during the day.

  The legions were surprisingly silent, as they marched forward. Before us, the first three cohorts of Legio VI Ferrata were heaving forward, and Gaius, bravely, was coming next.

  King Ariobarzanes, with submissive, brooding Abaddon was marching forward next to Wandal, and a few other Guards. Two of the Germani Guards and I walked next to Gaius, who was on his horse, while most others were on foot. Abaddon’s face betrayed a look of dismay and he knew exactly why the Germani were riding around him. Gaius gave the man curious looks. They had spoken but briefly, and our lord, riding in his fine armor, was nervous as we came closer to the gates. Our white Guard cloaks were in the camp, but the armor glittered in the light of Mani’s chariot travelling the sky in its silvery glory. Men’s eyes were gleaming, as the Praetorian Sejanus was staring at the walls that were high around us, as we walked their length for a moment before the gate.

  Gaius looked down at the rebel prince, and finally asked a question. He had spoken with Abaddon already, but seemed worried. “Your men? No Parthians?”

  The man listened to the translation and turned to Gaius. He was terrified, but his face was brooding and proud at the same time. He bowed his head. “Two hundred on the walls, two thousand men ready to help with the Parthians in the barracks. The few Parthians amongst them are … pacified. The gates are open, and the city nobles are ready to give their oaths. I would go to my own mansion when we enter, and oath giving is finished.”

  Despite a thousand oaths, Abaddon clearly had a hunch the legions would not be content to take over the city. He wanted to secure his riches.

  “Under guard, you will,” Gaius said, and eyed the huge gateway that was opening before us, not far now. The first cohort was nearing it rapidly. It was open, and torches burned beyond.

  On top of the walls a few guards were walking. Some stared down at us, more curious than worried. They would see a mass of marching legions, not a sight to ignore.

  The city was asleep, save for its leaders ready to change their fate.

  I watched Abaddon, as his wide shoulders were shaking. He was praying, I was sure of it. Sejanus was walking amongst marching Praetorians, who had formed a ring around us, speaking softly and looked up at the walls.

  Abaddon’s eyes, when he looked at Gaius, were moist. He was close to tears.

  Wandal had been watching him. He, normally not the sharpest spear in the Guard, was clearly unhappy about Abaddon and gave me a long look. I shook my head.

  He ignored me. He leaned on Abaddon. “Open your hands to me.”

  The man frowned.

  “Open your hands,” he snarled. “Like this.” Wandal showed him how to open one’s palm.

  Abaddon spat, and shook his head.

  “Let the bastard be,” I whispered, but Wandal didn’t heed me. He jumped from his horse, grasped Abaddon’s hand violently and turned it. The Armenian kept the fist closed, and struggled, but Wandal snarled, grasped his fingers, and forced
them open. Everyone was watching in shock at Wandal’s actions. He frowned, and lifted the hand for me to see.

  The palm was calloused, and not a noble’s hand.

  He ripped out of Wandal’s grip, and took steps from him. Gaius stopped his horse, frowning.

  Wandal turned to Ariobarzanes. “Have you ever seen Abaddon? Ever?”

  He shook his head. “No, never. I am not from here.”

  There were yells echoing in the night.

  I pushed Wandal. “Wandal! Keep Ariobarzanes alive! Get to him! Hide him under your shield!”

  Everyone stared at me in confusion. Wandal as well. Ariobarzanes was frowning. In a moment, they saw what I knew was coming.

  Betrayal.

  Torches flared, dozens of them, and tumbled through the air around us.

  “Guard Gaius!” Juba II yelled nearby, as Hel’s own chaos broke loose.

  On the walls, archers appeared and orders were being called. There were more torches falling through the air. Wandal surged forward, the Guards struggled to reach Gaius, I did as well, as arrows began to fall.

  Many arrows.

  A veritable rain of arrows.

  A Guard fell next to Gaius, who seemed charmed, as arrows struck his saddle, and his cloak. Two struck my shield, and I fell on my knee.

  There was also a boom, and echoes of surprised legionnaires could be heard.

  The gates had crashed closed.

  Wandal didn’t go for Ariobarzanes.

  He went for Gaius.

  “Get off the horse!” Wandal screamed, as he ran, arrows flying past and striking the ground around him. He was fast as a weasel, as he passed me, and jumped over another Guard, who was holding a feathered shaft in his throat. He reached our lord, and pulled at Gaius, trying to rip him off the saddle. I got up, staggered to them, and tried to help Wandal. A Praetorian jumped forward with shield high, and howled as many feathered shafts fell amongst us. Dozens flickered in the air, and then more. One clanged into my helmet and I fell on my side, losing my grip on Gaius, whose horse was wild with fear. Two Guards fell on their faces, full of arrows. Wandal was trying to get past the flailing hooves. Two or more arrows impaled the false Abaddon, and the King of Armenia’s guards finally covered him with shields.