Текст книги "Swords of Rome"

Автор книги: Christopher Buckner

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Gaius tried to hold back his smile, managing only a faint grin.

“Then if I may inquiry further, sir. Why only one cohort? Won’t the rest of the Sixth be needed if up north if Hannibal is crossing the Alps?”

Valerius stared at Gaius, knowing full well he had not mentioned the particulars of the message or what is transpiring in the Alps as they spoke. However, as he fought to hold back his smile, he knew that Gaius was smarter than he had ever been, and had deduced that knowledge from careful observation.

“The Senate is fearful of a possible Carthaginian naval invasion of either Sicily or southern Italy. If that is to happen, then the Sixth needs to be on call and ready to respond, the moment the first whore-sons set foot on our territory.”

“Even if the fight is in the north?” Gaius asked, sounding disappointed.

“Other legions will be levied. We have our orders, centurion. Now, if there isn’t anything else that is pondering your young mind, carry out my orders and have the first cohort ready to move by sunrise. You are dismissed.”

“Yes, sir,” Gaius saluted before he turned and quickly left Valerius’ office, keeping his smile from being too obvious, only with difficulty.

As he walked outside, Gaius saw Maurus was already waiting for him before he quickly ran over, a big cheerful grin on his face.

“Well?” Maurus eager asked.

“Well what?”

“You know what I mean. Are we going to war or not?”

“My word, Maurus, I think you should see the medicos. You look terrible,” Gaius observed as the deep bruises on his friend’s face had been swollen to large purple welts. He hated to think what the rest of his body looked like by now, but the young soldier shrugged it off, too excited by the news that Gaius was withholding.

“Forget that. Just answer my original question: are we going to war?”

Gaius chuckled, “Yes, or so it would seem. The first cohort is heading for Rome tomorrow, and the rest of the legion is on standby, until further orders are giving. So, it would appear the rumors are true, for once, the enemy is coming to our home, and we’re going to stop them.”

Maurus couldn’t hold back his cheer as he beat his fists into the sky, hollering at the top of his lungs.

“Oh, such wonderful news. Finally, those Carthaginian bastards will fill the iron of the Wolves once again. And off too Rome, how grand, you’ll get to see home again, my dear friend.”

Gaius’ smile hardened sudden as Maurus’ words resonated deeply through his mind. It had not dawned on him, until now – home.He would be going home.

“I will not keep you, my friend. I will go tell the boys the news. I doubt, however, very many of us will be getting much sleep tonight.”

Maurus ran off, still joyful as he quickly spread the news across the whole camp. For Gaius, however, the excitement of the moment had escaped him as he walked toward one of the larger structures in the camp, needing to be alone so he may be with his own thoughts a moment longer.

Grabbing a lantern, which hung on the wall near the entrance of the stables, Gaius walked down the narrow path that was centered between two rows of holding pins that housed the army’s horses. When he reached the one, he was moving toward, Gaius opened the gate where his horse, a black-coated stallion, which he named Apollo, raised his head with interest as Gaius stepped inside, hanging the light on the wall.

The horse lifted his ears and nodded his head as Gaius ran his hand along Apollo’s neck.

“Hello, my friend, guess what?” Gaius spoke softly.

Apollo, whom Gaius had named in honor of his father, recalling the story that Valerius had told him ten years ago near the camp fire, about his father’s bravery, of course did not respond as he nudged his master, indicating that he wanted Gaius to continue rubbing his neck.

“We are going to Rome,” Gaius finished, his voice still low. In the distance, he could hear the beginnings of celebration as word had spread quickly about the prospects of going to war.

Most of the legion was young – legionaries from sixteen to twenty-two, with a few hundred older veterans, yet few who saw action during the last war. So, with excitement, the Sixth was eager to prove itself in doing what it had been trained for, glorious war. Gaius’ mind was, however, trapped in the past. It hadn’t dawned on him that he would be going home, back to Rome until Maurus had said as such. Now, his thoughts plagued him with memories of Antony and Julia, who had never been far from his mind.

“I wonder what they are like now. Antony was only a year younger than me – how he must have grown. And his sister, Julia – I’ve told you about her, haven’t I?” Gaius mussed.

Again, Apollo failed to reply.

“She must be sixteen. I wonder what has become of her, how beautiful she must be now, nearly a woman – a Roman lady.”

Gaius felt silly, not because he was speaking with his horse, but at the memories of the girl, he only remembered as a frightened child that had cried in his arms when he left home.

“I wonder if she even remembers me. So much time has gone by. I’m not so different, am I?” Apollo lifted his head, staring at Gaius with his big brown eyes. “I am being silly, aren’t I? We were children, and she was much younger than I. Our time together was brief, less than a year. How can I expect either of them to recall a distant friend they hardly knew?”

Gaius knew that he could not expect their memories of him to be as cherished as his. They had lives of their own; years to make new friends, to fall in and out of love. He couldn’t help but feel selfish and arrogant to think that he meant as much to them as they did to him.

“I should not worry about such things, should I? We might be going to war soon. I’ve trained, and I’ve excelled at becoming a soldier. I have a duty to my men and to my country, and yet, I can’t stop thinking of them – of her.”

Gaius put his head down on his horse’s neck, rubbing its fur with his hand as he asked his last question.

“Tell me, Apollo, am I a fool for being in love with a dream?”

Gaius waited, but Apollo just made a faint noise that was either disagreement, or a statement that he was indeed a fool. Which it was, he could merely guess.

“Thanks, you are a lot of help, you know that,” Gaius smiled as he went back to brushing his horse. Outside, the camp was making preparations for war. What would come next filled Gaius’ young mind with all sorts of possibilities. At the very least, he would get the chance to see Rome again. He wondered how much the city had grown since his last visit.

In three days time, he would know.

CHAPTER TEN

A harsh wind cut through the city just as thick gray clouds opened and unleashed their captive water, which seemed to fall like buckets down onto the sooty paved streets.

The rain beaded off Gaius’ red cloak as if it was in retreat the moment it touched him. The discomfort wasn’t enough to impair the joy that he felt, to be back in the grand city he had only visited once in his youth. Nothing about Rome seemed to have changed from last he remembered; running through the streets as a boy, enjoying all the wonders his young mind hadn’t experienced before. Only now, his perspective was different as he looked at his city with older eyes.

He wore full armor, the same dark leather plate that his father had given him ten years ago, when he left home for the Sixth Legion. A long red cape draped from his shoulders and wrapped around the hindquarters of his horse. Apollo trotted in a slow rhythmic pattern as if the animal believed he was on parade. The hooves of Valerius’ steed, who rode beside Gaius, echoed down the crowded streets, causing all who stood before them to step aside as they headed towards the great forum, in the heart of the city, and while not customary to ride horses in the city, Valerius wanted to reach the Senate without pause.

A week ago, Gaius was frightened by the prospect of returning to Rome. Now, he could hardly contain his excitement as he caught himself talking in every sight and sound, with the same enthusiasm he had when he was twelve.

Valerius, on the other hand, did not have any interest in the city, and in fact, he loath it. Gaius knew the old Roman well enough to know that he preferred the open country to the artificial stone and wooden structures and narrow streets of the city. He might defend Rome to his last breath, but walking through it was another matter.

Valerius kept his attention forward. A tight-ridged expression that Gaius had lovingly become used to over the years was present on his weathered face. It was painfully clear that he wanted to hurry and get to the Senate, and be done with his duty, and off to join the campaign. Gaius tried his best to follow his mentor’s example. He rode tall atop his horse and gripped the reins firmly; chin held high like an officer on display. Even the continuing annoyance of the dripping water from the brim of his helmet was ignored. Still, despite his best efforts, he found that his attention continued to drift from one sight to the next as it had done when he was younger.

The streets, even with the heavy rainfall, were filled with hundreds of people who shopped or ate at the numerous stands that lined the busy corners. There seemed to be a pub or brothel on every block, Gaius noted, and not a single one seemed short of business.

One brothel caught his gaze as he rode by. It was quite elegant, made from white stone and freshly painted red wood. Out front stood several beautiful women who chatted to each other, or enticed only the wealthiest of men to enter their establishment, with wooing comments of great pleasures and wondrous exploitations of the flesh they won’t soon forget.

The women wore silk dresses that were cut low around their breasts, and had slits that showed their long and shapely legs. They adorned themselves with a wide assortment of jewels in their ears and or around their necks. Many of the women wore bright-colored wigs of red, blonde, black or other assorted colors that weren’t natural to the female body. However, most engaging about them was their odor; their exotic perfume carried over the street, drawing any man to them like a Siren' call.

One woman caught Gaius’ eye, in particular. She was an extremely beautiful young lady with lengthy hair. Her skin was tanned and seemed softer than a bed of feathers as long lashes, heavy with dark mascara wrapped around her piercing eyes, giving her an exotic, foreign look.

She watched Gaius as he rode past her, never taking her eyes off the young officer.

He smiled at her with a boyish grin, which she returned pleasantly.

So focused on this woman, Gaius veered his horse into Valerius’ own animal as both horses neighed and nipped at each other. This quickly brought Gaius’ attention from his fantasy as he corrected his error.

Valerius looked oddly at him, not saying a word as Gaius quietly voiced his apologies.

Valerius grunted his reply, knowing all too well what had caught his young officer’s eye.

Looking backward over his shoulder Gaius saw the exotic woman giggling with the girls who stood with her, before she glanced over towards him, still with a big smile on her face.

He continued to watch her until his vision was obstructed by the dense crowds, disappointed. He suddenly realized that some things were indeed quite different than the last time he was in the city – things his eyes couldn’t have appreciated ten years ago, now served only to pique his curiosity as he wondered what other hidden gems Rome held tucked away.

Slowly, the narrow streets began to open as they rode into the great Forum of Rome, which house the Senate, the Temple of Jupiter and other assorted government and religious buildings.

The forum was filled with thousands of people. Dozens of shops had been set up where merchants sold items from across the Mediterranean: rugs from Persia, silk from Africa, Slaves from all corners of the known world, each auctioned in open markets as hundreds of buyers eagerly placed bets on the best bodies, strongest men, youngest boys or shapely women.

In the distance, Gaius could see a large wooden structure that housed an open theater. Currently, a play was being shown to the crowd of adults and children that laughed and jeered at the performance of a strange-looking man, who wore a multi-colored dress and white-painted face. He carried an over-sized shield and sword. His hair was colored gold and was curled. Top his head was an unpleasant helmet that was adorned with large white feathers. In his crotch, hung a huge fake penis that the actor frequently waved and pointed at the audience, drawing a chorus of cheers and laughter from them; its meaning completely lost on Gaius as he watched from afar.

Two bare-breasted women ran around the stage as a very short man, only as tall as a small boy, perused them with his hands held out, trying to grab them from behind.

The tiny man was dressed in the fashion of a Persian king; dark clothing with long black curled hair and a thick beard. He acted like a clown as he chased the two women, who screamed out until finally, the gold-locked man stepped between them, and smacked the short king over his head with the fake sword, and then poked him with his oversized penis as the little man fell.

The king dropped to his knees and began to plead for his life. The hero, however, stood over him and waved his prop over the defeated man’s head.

The crowd loved all of it even though not a word had been uttered on stage, but soon Gaius began to recognize some of the similarities in the play as the story of Alexander the Greats conquest of the Persian Empire.

He smiled even though he felt that the historic interpretation of the actors was terribly wrong.

“The people don’t seem to be too concerned about the prospect of war,” Gaius commented to Valerius as the two stepped down from their horses once they reached the Roman Senate.

“Bah. War is only an inconvenience to most of these people. Nothing that would actually affect their mood; and besides, most the dying will come from the allies any ways,"” Valerius snarled.

Gaius looked up at the Senate. The sizeable structure that hosed the power behind the Republic wasn’t entirely what he was expecting, as the Curia wasn’t grand or set high upon a hill like the Acropolis in Greece. It looked more like a large house, built in a simple fashion, set against some of the most important structures in Rome. It was painted red and purple and adorned with flowers. Banners of the Republic draped down the side of the building, while the two large heavy wooden doors that led into the Senate were currently wide open, indicating that session was in order and any citizen was technically invited to listen to the hearings, although, most did not bother or dared to set foot inside.

Still, Gaius did not let his imagination overshadow the importance of the building. He knew inside were the most powerful men in Rome – those that commanded the loyalty of the people and the army, governed the provinces, and ensured that Rome’s light shine the brightest in the world. And, while the Senate did not make or pass the laws, their collective voices helped shape the course of Rome’s future.

Gaius was so intrigued by the Senate building that he failed to notice what greeted him.

Along the base of the walls was a row of beggars, many of whose hands were stretched out as they pleaded for coins from the numerous citizens passing by.

The wretched souls looked as if they had just crawled out from their own graves, and took residence in front of the symbol of power. Their clothing was a mix of tattered rags and patch-work of other garments and as Gaius came closer to them, their smell was unbearable, which was made worse by the rain.

Most of the men, far too sad and miserable to look at, seemed to be living ghosts, their faces were pale and hair matted. All of them looked older than their true age would have testified to.

Their wary eyes stared up at Gaius as he was forced to walk passed them in order to reach the Senate doors. A few of the beggars raised their hands out towards him, asking without words for a few coins. Gaius, feeling sick from their smell, ignored them as he held his breath and continued up the steps.

As he reached the Senate doors, he let out a gasp and breathed in fresh air. Even now, he was still able to smell their filth. It made him want to throw up. He was ashamed that a man could let their lives fall to such ruin that he wished they would just go away, swept down the gutters like the trash, carried off by the rain water.

Gaius was about to speak to Valerius, who he assumed was still with him; no doubt having to also hold his breath and hurriedly climb the Senate steps to avoid the beggars. However, when he looked back Valerius was nowhere to be seen.

And then Gaius saw him, strangely standing at the base of the steps talking to several of the beggars, seemly asking a pair of men questions.

Gaius couldn’t hear what was being said, not over the rain and the chorus of voices that carried over the forum. A moment later he watched as Valerius reached to his belt, removing a small leather bag that was attached to his waist, before tossing it, along with its contents of silver to the three men.

Gaius was dumbfounded as he watched the beggars rise to their feet, shake Valerius’ hand before they ran off, pushing through the bodies of citizens before disappearing from view.

“Who were those men? Did you know them?” Gaius asked as Valerius climbed the steps and joined him.

“I do not know. Just soldiers, like you and I.”

“Are you serious?” Gaius asked, the shock on his face evident as he looked back down at the beggars, studying them with careful attention. A number of them were indeed wearing the red tunics, although now badly faded and stained, of the legion.

“It is a disgrace that they have allowed themselves to fall so far.” Gaius spat as his eyes drifted away from the former legionnaires and back towards Valerius.

“Do not fault them, Gaius. Not every man was made to serve the legions, or has the body and mind to come home, after living through and seeing what most men will never experience.”

“Regardless, what makes you think they won’t spend the money you gave them on drink and women?” Gaius asked.

“I don’t know, and I do not care. It is no longer my money,” Valerius replied plainly.

“A waste of coin if you ask me,” Gaius commented rudely.

“Then it is a good thing I did not ask for your permission.” Valerius’ tone was controlled, not holding Gaius’ empty words to heart, but he was firm, nonetheless.

“Come; stop straining yourself on matters your young mind can’t possibly understand right now. You’ve yet to see a senatorial session. Wait until it has concluded, then your outlook on Roman life will be even more distorted than it is now.”

Gaius did not reply as he stared at Valerius with a questionable expression before the legate of the Sixth escorted him inside.

Inside three hundred senators sat tightly, shoulder-to-shoulder on two sets of elevated stone benches. Their combined voices echoed over the marble and limestone chamber as they debated without pause about Rome’s most pressing issues, which were numerous, beyond that of the approaching army, led by Hannibal.

Two seats sat in the center of the chamber. There, the two co-consuls would have sat, but on this day only Consul Gaius Flaminius was present as his counterpart was out of the city.

The chamber was well lit; the sweat smell of the oil that burned filled the room as Gaius and Valerius walked unobtrusively, making sure not to interrupt the proceedings. Several other officers also stood near the back, where they listened with restraint.

As Gaius spend the next couple hours' listening, the day’s proceedings were filled with debates on taxes, shipping and trade issues with several Greek states, piracy, plague, grain shortages in distant territories, and of course, finally, Hannibal and his alliance of barbarian northerners making their way down across the Alps.

Speaking now was an older senator who looked to be in his late sixties. He held the folds of his toga in one hand, while the other he brandished violently in the air as he spoke, dramatically.

“The destruction of Saguntum by the Carthaginian, Hannibal ten years ago was a clear sign that his government, which has already refused our demands for justice, has always been seeking war with the Republic,” the senator named Quintus spoke loud enough for all to hear him. Numerous senators added their angry voices to his claims as he continued once the roars lessened.

“Now, reports tell us that Hannibal has amassed an army of fifty thousand, many of whom are Gallic barbarians that have sworn their service to him, as long as he promises them Rome. Hannibal’s intentions are very clear: with his army, he will threaten the whole of Italy once he has completed his journey across the Alps, and yet this Senate will do nothing in response to this act of aggression!”

“We sent an envoy to Carthage, numerous times since Saguntum’s fall,” one senator spoke up, trying to defend the actions of those that did not support the call for war.

“And they continually refused our demands for peace, have they not?” Quintus asked, which was followed by an uproar of anger.

“We offered them peace, and they refused it,” another man proclaimed.

“We must still try to continue with peace talks. The actions of Hannibal are not the desires of Carthage. Even they have acknowledged this much to us.”

“Yet, they support him!” a voice called out.

“We cannot hold a whole country accountable for the actions of one man. If this Senate declares war on Carthage, a war we are in no position to fight right now, then our enemies, those nearer to us, will act. It is the continuing conflicts in Greece and Macedonia that we need to focus our attention on, not some renegade general and his band of barbarian followers,” Liberius announced, but quickly his cautious words were drowned out by the supporters for war.

“You only care about your grain shipments, and not the honor of your country, Liberius!” Senator Appius yelled as he challenged his colleague’s loyalty to Rome; his words caused another outburst between the two factions.

“We cannot ignore the threats from Greece, nor can we deny that the Carthaginians have brought war to our lands once again,” a new voice stood as he tried to be the voice of reason.

“Agreed!” Yelled both factions, as each believed the words were in support of their point of view.

Consul Flaminius raised his hands, begging for his fellow representatives to be silent as he rose to his feet.

“Fellow senators, I do not wish war with Carthage. The last conflict our two nations shared was bloody, and cost the lives of many of our finest men. It is true that the protection of our grain shipments from Greece and the East take priority over the threat that Hannibal poses.”

Numerous hecklers erupted as those that support the cause for war responded to what the consul was saying.

Flaminius again raised his hands and asked for silence.

“However, this act of aggression by a single man cannot go unpunished.”

Cheers replaced the negative jeers as the volume in the chambers rose higher.

“If our enemies see that Rome takes no action to defend our allies, and punish those responsible for defying the Republic’s laws, then we as a nation would have proven that we are not up to the task of crushing even the tiniest insect, or protecting our friends. For this, Hannibal and his barbarian horde must be crushed, and Carthage, taught a lesson it shall never forget!”

The sound of applause and cheering was deafening as three hundred senators stood to their feet in support of Flaminius. Even those that were opposed to war quickly reconsidered their position; it would not be patriotic to stand against the consul.

“I will send word for Publius Cornelius Scipio to raise an army and march them north, and cut Hannibal’s advance into our territories,” Flaminius proclaimed. “Once Scipio has dealt with this unprovoked aggression we shall send Hannibal’s head back to his country!”

For several minutes, the Senate commemorated Flaminius’ call for war. Already the bloodlust within the house was beginning to boil and would soon reach the streets outside where thousands of citizens and freedmen would eagerly be waiting to hear the news.

The prospect of such a large war was frightening to Gaius, and yet exciting. He was young and had trained for such a day. However, as he looked over towards Valerius, expecting the old general to be beaming with excitement, his mentor’s face was blank, and his eyes filled with concern and disappointment.

“How many legions will be sent?” a senator cried out.

“Hannibal is but one man with an army of barbarians. We do not need to combine our legions to deal with him. So, we shall leave this victory to Scipio and his men, as they are already nearer to the border, and have more experience in dealing with the Celts than anyone in this room,” Flaminius replied as he sat back down.

“Only one legion, are you mad?” a chorus of voices spoke up, but their concerns were drowned by the overwhelming supporters.

“Bah, he just wants Scipio out of Rome. The bloody fool cares nothing about stopping Hannibal. If there was glory in it, he would be leading the army himself,” Valerius mumbled quietly to himself.

Gaius stared nervously over at him, seeing that a number of the other officers too agreed with the veteran’s statement. They marched with the men to Rome, expecting to be called upon to confront Hannibal, now it seems they weren’t needed, or were going to be sent elsewhere to protect wealthy men’s purses.

After a few closing statements from other senators, they began to exit into the forum, where crowds had formed on the steps of the Senate, waiting to hear about the day’s proceedings.

Gaius remained with Valerius as he spoke to his colleagues, expressing their concern privately to each other. Already it seemed they were planning their own strategy in case the worst should happen, and Hannibal should break through Scipio’s legion. For the moment, at least, the Sixth would be staying put, which disappointed Gaius more than he figured it would.

Gaius’ attention was turned as he heard his named suddenly called among the crowd of senators and advisors that had gathered, speaking openly among themselves.

At first, he did not recognize the man who called his name, as he stepped through the crowd, a joyful, surprised expressing on his face, and spoke again.

“Gaius? By Jupiter’s beard, is that really you?”

“Antony?” Gaius questioned before he too recognized his boyhood friend.

Antony stopped before Gaius, holding him in his hands as he looked taller, larger man over in careful detail; the smile on his face was ear-to-ear.

“Look at you. You really did it. A real, honest to gods’ soldier of Rome,” Antony said with a prideful voice as he embraced Gaius.

“And you, a senator of all things.”

Antony laughed. “Hardly; I’m too young. I leave that to my father, but I do, someday, have to follow in his footsteps, so it seems. So all I do is sit quietly and let him do all the talking, like a good puppet. I never get to take part in all the excitement. However, it is a start. I suppose.”

“The Senate can’t be that bad, can it?” Gaius asked.

“Ah, my friend, I’m afraid that the Rome we grew up dreaming of is a far lesser thing than we imagined. This city is harsh, and so is its politics. Take what you heard today. What our dear consular said is only the tip of the spear. He will hang Scipio out to dry – if he fails, he loses favor, allowing Flaminius to take the glory when he marches his own army north to stop Hannibal. However, if Scipio wins, then he doesn’t receive as much praise: he only crushed a rogue general and his band of barbarians, and Flaminius still stands tall as he moves against Carthage. Regardless, he gets what he wants at the expense of our men.”

Antony leaned closer to Gaius and whispered, “Truthfully, almost everyone here is my age. Politics does terrible things to a man’s youth. It is a very slow and painful death,” Antony laughed.

Gaius managed a false smile. He was beginning to see that Rome, the eternal city of light he’d grown up believing in, was indeed becoming something else entirely. There were harsh realities that his eyes had opened up to this day, as Rome seemed a city of horrible contradictions.

“You are in a position to make changes, are you not?” Gaius asked.

“Perhaps, someday; however, as I said, politics is a game, a rather difficult and dangerous one. I have to play it by its rules or risk being swallowed up by it. I must admit I envy you, my friend. At least, your enemies won’t slit your throat while you sleep.” Antony’s words were friendly, but Gaius could hear in the undertone the unfortunate truth.

“Antony! Come, it is time we leave,” one of the older senators called out.

Antony turned to face his father, his face beaming with excitement.

“Father, come over here and see who has graced us with his presence.”

Varro was puzzled for a moment, not sure whom he was looking at as he walked over and stood next to his son. But then he recalled the young man that stood before him, as his eyes widen with genuine admiration.

“Young Gaius, is that really you?”

“Senator Varro, I am pleased to see you are doing well, sir.”

“Well, look at you, an officer in Rome’s legions, and one of Valerius’ Wolves too. Wonderfully done, my boy.”

“I am honored to serve Rome, and the Sixth Legion, sir.”

“As you should be, he is famed and respected, even among us older senators. I’ll tell you what, I’m having a get-together with a few friends at my city estate, and I would be honored if you could attend this evening as my guest.”

“Yes, that would be a brilliant idea, father,” Antony eagerly spoke.

“Oh, I don’t know. I wouldn’t wish to impose. We are only in the city for a short while,” Gaius replied, as he wasn’t sure he was ready for this sudden reunion.

Antony leaned closer to him and spoke softly into Gaius’ ear.