Horns sounded and men lined the walls to watch our arrival. Thank the gods we found Marius’s camp here, at the confluence of the Rhône and Isère Rivers. We could endure no more traveling. One of us had already died from exposure along the way, and I feared a few others, including Ax, would soon follow him.
Marius himself was the first man through the gates, his guard flanking him on either side. His face was lit up with curiosity and confusion, and perhaps relief that I had finally arrived.
By Jupiter, it was a pleasant sight to see the scarlet flags and plumed helms again. We looked nothing like Romans should, and it was more obvious now as we gazed upon our well-groomed and well-fed brethren than ever.
“Sir.” I snapped to attention and gave the best salute I could in my exhaustion. The others did the same.
Marius stood in silence for a moment, analyzing all of us. I wasn’t sure if he could tell if the men with me were Romans or not.
“Who are these?” Marius gestured to the escaped prisoners.
“Romans. They were prisoners in the Cimbri camp. I helped them escape.” Eyebrows all around us rose.
“Well, then,” Marius said with an extended exhale, “we need to discuss some things. Follow me.” I hadn’t expected Marius to give me any time to rest—I knew him too well by now. But I was surprised at how poised and unaffected he seemed by our arrival. The quickness of his pace alone gave away his concern.
“General,” I said before he could turn, “these men need to see the medicus. They are badly malnourished.”
Marius simply gave a nod, and some of the mules present led the prisoners away from me. I gave Ax a nod of the head before he departed, but his glossy eyes didn’t seem to register it.
As I followed Marius through the camp, more and more of the mules stopped their drills and turned to watch the prisoners on their way to the medicus tent.
I spotted Lucius among them, a mop of sweaty hair atop his head. His eyes were wet with relief. I was relieved to see him as well. There was certainly a time when I didn’t think I would.
“Tell me all that you discovered,” Marius said the moment I entered his quarters. Volsenio rolled out a map on the table and slammed pugio in the corners to keep it in place.
“The Cimbri are moving. They were leaving two days after we fled, so they are well on their way now. We made the best speed we could, but I can’t imagine they are more than a few days behind us.”
“Do you know their path of march?”
“The Cimbri and Teutones are splitting up.” I stepped toward the map. “I can’t be certain, but I understand the Cimbri are going south, where they will attack from the west. The Teutones are moving north of the Alps, where they will circle around and hit us from the east. They mean to flood into Italy with a violent force from either direction.”
Marius analyzed my finger’s movement over the map as more and more officers joined us.
“And their allies?”
“The Tigurini move with the Cimbri. I heard rumor that the Ambrones were in camp with the Teutones, but I never saw them myself.”
“Is that it?”
“I believe so, sir. There could be other tribes that join them on their journey, but they have made many enemies in Gaul.”
I then told Marius of the Cimbri method of attaching themselves to one another by their hips. The officers took a collective exhale. It was important to know this, but it didn’t make the method any less effective.
I tried my best to recollect all the information I had stored away in my mind—total number of forces, quality of arms and armor, infrastructure, capabilities for movement and supply. I mentioned that I had seen siege equipment, catapults mainly, but very few of them. I finished my brief within only a few moments and then suddenly felt I hadn’t presented him with enough. His expression was unreadable.
Marius asked nothing of my time in the Cimbri camp, or how I had attained such intelligence, but simply wanted more, more, more information. He was as stern and contemplative as I had ever seen him.
“That is all I know, sir,” I said when I had exhausted every ounce of information I had gathered.
“Well,” he said, leaning back from the map for the first time, “as your consul, I could have you crucified for taking such a risk to free those men, jeopardizing all of this intelligence. But as a man, I am proud of you. I commend you, Tribune.” He met my eye. “I would give you a military crown if I were able, but to do so would confirm that this mission actually took place. And we can’t allow that to happen. Makes us look weak.”
“I wouldn’t accept it if you did, sir.”
“Dismissed,” Marius said to me and all the other officers, making it clear that he wanted to sit alone with his thoughts and the new intelligence for a while.
As I exited, Lucius was the first man to greet me. Apparently, he had been in the consul’s tent behind me all along.
“Your tale just seems to get wilder and wilder,” he said with a pursed grin.
“We both know my tale would have ended at Arausio if it weren’t for you,” I said, concealing a smile myself. We embraced.
“I’m glad you’re back.” He patted my face as he released me. “It’s been quite boring without you. I’ve had to spend far more time with Equus than I would’ve liked,” he said.
“I’ve tried my best to keep him in line for you, Sertorius, but to no avail,” Equus said, extending a handshake.
“I believe it is you who deserves the crown, then, Equus.”
“You must be exhausted. Let’s go back to the tribunes’ quarters and you can rest,” Lucius said.
I considered it for a moment.
“I am exhausted, but there is somewhere else I’d much rather be.”
Lucius and I walked together to the stables.
As I found the stall where Sura was haltered, my heart warmed for the first time since I’d departed Marius’s camp. “Hey, girl.” I buried my face in her mane and kissed her forehead. She whinnied and stomped one of her hooves playfully in response. I had missed her as much as anyone while in the camp of barbarians.
“She’s been quite rebellious since you left,” Lucius said. “She hasn’t let anyone else ride her. She only allowed Apollonius to enter the stall without causing a fuss, and only because she knew he came with figs and a brush.”
It all felt like a dream. I never imagined I would be here again, with my friend, with my steed. But here I was. All of my senses seemed elevated. I noticed sights, smells, colors I never would have before.
“Tell me, amicus, was it bad?” Lucius said, serious for once.
I turned from the horse to him. “I made it back alive. That’s all that matters,” I said, but I couldn’t force out the image of the Roman prisoners burning before my eye.
“And thank the gods for that. I’ve sacrificed every week since you left.”
“How many pigeons?”
“Twenty-two this time. I hadn’t forgotten.” He smiled.
“How have things been since I left?”
Lucius considered his answer. “Interesting, to say the least.”
“How do you mean?” I asked as Sura found her way to the hay-covered earth, looking for a belly scratch.
“Marius departed for quite some time. He was canvasing in Rome for another election.”
“Of which he was successful, I’m sure.”
“Without question. No one in Rome doubted it, although there were many who opposed it.”
“For good reason, I assume. It’s quite unconstitutional for a man to have so many consulships in a row,” I said, knowing that Lucius would take offense.
“Twelve bloody tables, be damned! We need Marius right now. None of the patricians can defeat the Reds.”
“I only jest.” I smiled to pacify him.
“Well, he was elected, but it wasn’t without cost.”
“Cost?”
“He made some unscrupulous friends in the process. He had to have some help within the senate to
ensure his election, so he came to some kind of arrangement with a profligate praetor and a rebellious tribune.”
“Who were they?”
“The praetor is a man named Gaius Glaucia. The tribune a man named Lucius Saturninus.”
I thought about it for a moment. The names both sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place them.
“And how did you hear all this?”
“By Mars’s balls, man. I’m surprised you didn’t hear it in the Cimbri camp. It’s all anyone has talked about for months.”
“It’s a shame I missed out on all the good gossip, then.” I shrugged.
“Well, that’s not it. Did you see Sulla in Marius’s tent earlier?” Lucius asked.
“I’ve only got the one good eye, Lucius. I’m sure there were many present that I wasn’t able to see.” I smiled but Lucius did not.
“Well, he wasn’t there. Marius sent him home to levy troops.”
“An insulting demotion.”
“Without question. The tension between them grew as large as the camp before he left. Thing is, though, Sulla already returned with a new command.”
“Oh?”
“Yes…as a legate, I believe, under Marius’s consular colleague, Catulus.”
“I’m sure that caused a commotion.”
“Marius hasn’t spoken of it”—Lucius shook his head—“but you can tell he is very disturbed. Personally offended, even. Luckily, they’re stationed miles east of here; otherwise, we’d have confrontation on our hands, to be certain.”
Lucius commenced to fill me in on the rudimentary details of camp life while I was gone, and the various power struggles of the tribunes, most of whom he resented. I pulled an apple from my satchel and fed it to Sura as we talked.
When I summoned up the courage, I told him about finding the men who were set to be human sacrifices and our mad scramble to escape.
“Just to see Ax again…”
“I’m sure that was a surprise.”
“I shudder at the thought of my leaving without first taking him with me. I almost left, Lucius. I almost did,” I said.
“But you did not.”
“I thought all of my companions from the Fourth Legion were dead. My world seems a bit larger now that one of them is found alive.” I blinked the moisture from my eye. I was done with sentimentality for the moment, and there were more important things at hand.
I gave Sura a goodbye kiss, then walked back with Lucius to the tribunes’ quarters. Despite my swollen leg and exhaustion, I was walking fine. Lucius didn’t seem to care one way or the other, though, as he kept a gentle hand on my elbow as we moved.
As we entered, Apollonius was already rushing to the tent exit.
“Quintus, I just heard you arrived!” He stood still, awkwardly, until I reached out and embraced him.
“I have.”
“And I have been waiting anxiously for the moment that I could say, ‘I told you so,’” he said.
“And what did you tell me?” I plopped down on my finely pressed linen sheets.
“That you’d make it back alive, of course.”
“What about all that talk of dying and only having the present moment?” I tried to recollect our conversation.
“Nonsense! All of it!” We all shared a laugh. “Tribune Cinna told me that you rescued prisoners on your way out? The Greeks could tell a few tales about you, young master,” he said, looking me over like a physician.
“I think it’s best if those stories fade away,” I said honestly, not intending to one day recollect them here.
Apollonius’s face lit up and he lifted a finger as if he had made a great discovery.
“I had almost forgotten!” He hurried out of the tent without saying another word.
I had now been away from Apollonius longer than I had known him, but something about his presence felt like home.
He returned far faster than I would have assumed of a man his age, a bundle of letters in his hand.
It was clear that he was as proud of those letters as a man would be of a child.
“I’ve keep them locked away in the slave quarters. Some of the others said you were dead, and tried to encourage me to break the seals, but I wouldn’t do it.” He passed them to me delicately.
“I thank you, Apollonius.”
“I’ll give you some time, then.” Apollonius stepped back a few paces and found an empty chair. Lucius was already reclining on his bed and snoring, as was his custom.
I greedily poured over each and every letter. I longed to find the name “Arrea” scribbled on one.
I had a few from Lucius’s brother, but most of them were from my mother, who clearly had no idea of my expedition but was angry I hadn’t written her in so long.
Two of these letters, thanks to Apollonius’s careful stewardship, have remained among my records ever since.
The first was from Junia, the wife of Quintus Caepio.
Hers was certainly a name I did not expect to see.
Dearest Quintus,
I cannot thank you enough for what you did. At great risk to yourself and your reputation, you saved a man in need. We have since fled Rome and are now living in exile on a far-away isle.
So as not to implicate you further, I will not mention where.
Our son, Marcus, is with us, and he is healthy. We are not accustomed to living in these circumstances, and aren’t quite comfortable, but we cannot complain. I thank the gods for my husband’s life, my child’s safety, and for your decent heart. One day, my boy will return to Rome and continue what his father was unable to finish. I don’t expect that we will ever be able to repay you for what you’ve done, but I hope that we shall.
Gnaeus has died, of heartbreak at his son’s defeat or of natural causes—we do not know. Since we fled, Caecilia has married again.
I hope that you are well, Quintus Sertorius. And my heart remembers fondly the moments we shared in Gnaeus’s domus.”
Junia
Needless to say, I kept this letter private, and shared it with no one save Apollonius until now. It was comforting to see that my decision had benefited Junia and Marcus, but I still wondered if it had been the right choice.
The next was a letter from my mother. It was two months old by the time I read it, but it was the most recent available to me. I could tell that my mother was fearful for my safety, even though word of battle hadn’t arrived.
My son,
I’ve long hoped for a message from you. The family waits anxiously each day to see if word has arrived. We all worry about you. We’ve listened endlessly to the newsreaders in the market. They say you have not met the Cimbri or Teutones in battle. So why have you not written? Perhaps you aren’t receiving our letters, or maybe you’re too busy with your new responsibilities. Regardless, I pray to the gods that you’ll write soon.
I miss you dearly.
Volesa sends her love as well. Gavius is growing like a weed. I’d wager he’ll be as tall as I am by the time you return. Aius Hirtuleius has tended to us so well—he has the heart of his brother.
I do not want to alarm you, as I know you have much to worry about already, but your wife has been unwell. Volesa has been confined to her bed for many days now, and has shown no interest in getting out of it, or in speaking with any of us. She has no fever, and displays no signs of sickness. We all care for her, but she refuses to be tended to. Arrea has taken such good care of Gavius since Volesa became this way. I am very grateful that you brought her here.
I hope to hear from you soon, my son, my hope, my love.
Rhea
And then, written at the bottom of this final letter, was the name I most desired to see.
Postscriptum
This is Arrea. Your mother has been teaching me how to write. I’m improving daily, but don’t yet have the words to say to you what I need to.
I want you to return to me. To us, I mean. I still want you to return to all of us safely.
Arrea
And
that was all she’d written. Both joyful and dreadful thoughts seeped into my mind. My head swirled. What did she mean? Was it written in anger? In love?
“Good news from home?” Apollonius asked me as I sat the letters aside and leaned back on my pillows.
“Any news from home is good news, when you thought you were a dead man. But I’m not sure that’s what I would call it.”
“All hardships are compounded when you are too far away to do anything about them,” Apollonius said.
“I believe you’re right, my friend.” I shook my head. “I wish I could see them now.”
He approached my bed and knelt beside it.
“Only a little longer, and perhaps you shall.”
22
Scroll XXII
Two days before the ides of March 652 ab urbe condita
I received word from Marius that I was allowed two days’ rest before assisting with the construction of a bridge over the Rhône.
The Roman army moved fast, but I’m tempted to say that the Teutones were quicker. We finished building the bridge in two days, and less than a fortnight later, word came of the Teutones’ arrival. They would be upon us within two days.
The men collectively exhaled. Battle could be dreadful, but the wait was often worse, especially for those who had actually endured battle before. The green recruits were ready for war, or so they thought. The officers were unsure, Marius among them.
Not long after our scouts returned with word of the Teutones’ imminence, barbarian ambassadors also arrived at our gates.
Horns sounded throughout the camp, and the guards along the walls called out.
I was in the middle of overseeing weapons drills when I heard the commotion, and I at once made for the walls.
I peered over the edge to see four riders, all clad in rich gold armor they had likely taken from fallen enemies in Spain. One of them bore a blue flag fringed with gold that flapped violently in the wind.
“We seek word with your master,” one of them cried out. He was clearly a Gaul, and one who had spent enough time around Romans to have a firm understanding of Latin.
The Noise of War Page 20
