The situation in Locri set us back several weeks, but Scipio still hoped to set sail for Africa by the beginning of October. I focused on finishing the map, while also attending to my other duties as a scribe, mostly creating inventories of the supplies needed for the campaign. I worked long hours with few chances to get away. I hadn’t seen Moira since the incident with Troglius, who was still missing, and I wanted, no I needed to see her. Ever since my conversation with Masinissa, I felt that it was important for me to know exactly what I thought about Moira before I left for Africa.
One afternoon, though still overloaded with work, I changed from my red tunic into one of unbleached wool and headed off to her farm. I saw Moira from a distance. She was in the fig orchard with Donato and Rosa, picking figs and putting them into baskets. She saw me coming, but made no acknowledgment of me and continued to work. I came up alongside of her, and without saying a word, began picking figs.
After a long silence, Moira let down her guard. “Thanks for helping, Timon,” she said with only the slightest glance at me. “Have you heard anything from Troglius?”
“Not a word,” I said, dropping a handful of figs into a basket. “It’s been two weeks. I think they’ve given up searching for him. There’s no telling where he is.”
“I feel responsible.”
“You shouldn’t. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. I put Troglius in a bad situation, and he simply reacted. No one should fault him for what he did. The centurion was out of line.”
As Moira moved from one part of the tree to another, Rosa, still wary of me, clung to her mother’s dress. Donato was the opposite. He picked up the figs that fell to the ground while keeping a close eye on me.
“I went down in the tunnels looking for him,” I said. “I had showed them to him a few weeks before the incident.”
“I remember showing them to you.” She looked directly at me for the first time.
“How about the time you brought the ball of yarn?”
“The night of the Festival of Artemis.”
“When Corax and his gang chased us. What a night!”
Moira and I had made love that night. When I looked at her, I’m sure she was thinking the same thing. She allowed the impish grin that had captured me many years earlier, then turned away to focus on her work. She reached up as high as she could for one last fig on the branch she was working, causing her dress to lie close against her, accenting her body’s curves, and rekindling the feelings she had inspired in me when I had first met her.
Donato broke the spell. “What will happen to Troglius if they catch him?”
Moira stopped picking to listen to my response.
“They will be very hard on him.” I thought about the deserters I had encountered on my trip from Rome to Croton. “He will be tried for his actions.”
“Will they kill him?”
I looked to Moira. She answered. “It’s possible, Donato. That’s why I’m worried about him.”
“Your mother’s right. It’s possible. I hope he’s smart enough to stay away. He’s a good friend of mine, and I worry about him.”
When we had filled ten baskets with figs, we carried them back to the house and laid them out on wooden racks so that they could dry in the sun. My time had been well spent. I had found out what I needed to know. I wanted to spend more time with Moira. She had remained cool to me. There was no doubt about that, but at times, she had allowed me glimpses of her smile and a few sparkles from her eyes—and it was just enough.
As I was about to leave, she surprised me by asking if I wanted to stay for the evening meal. “You deserve something for helping. It will be simple. Nothing special. I slaughtered a chicken this morning and we have some chickpeas.”
“I helped because I wanted to. You don’t owe me anything, but I would like to stay.”
“Then keep an eye on Rosa and Donato while I put things together.”
While I wrestled playfully with the children, Moira roasted the chicken and tended to other things around the house. When we ate, the conversation, much like that in the orchard, was in bits and pieces with long spells of silence in between.
We finished eating long before the sun went down. She walked me to the edge of the property. She thanked me for my help, and I thanked her for the meal. Then I leaned into her and did what I had been thinking about throughout the afternoon. I kissed her softly on the cheek. Instead of backing away she embraced me and hugged me as though she hadn’t been held in a long time. I wanted to stroke her hair and kiss her again, but I resisted the temptation and stepped away from her.
Moira bowed her head, then looked up at me. “Come again. The children seem to be more comfortable around you.”
“I will,” I said, pleased that she too was finally warming up to me.
CHAPTER 52
Scipio’s brother Lucius was stationed in Messana. Scipio received a report from him saying there had been more trouble in Locri. Following Scipio’s departure and his abbreviated encounter with Hannibal, the Roman garrison, commanded by Pleminius, had become abusive to the Locrian populace. The Carthaginian garrison had already been a plague upon the city, drinking in excess and taking liberties with the women, resulting in repeated clashes with the local men. One would have thought that the Locrians would be in better hands with the Romans. Pleminius’ men, however, took the bad behavior to an even greater extreme, as though justified punishment to the Locrians for giving in to the Carthaginians in the first place.
The difficulties reached a head when one of Pleminius’ men was caught stealing a silver cup from a Locrian home by two Roman officers. When the officers demanded that the soldier return the stolen cup, a fight broke out. The soldier who had stolen the cup got the worst of it and went to Pleminius, complaining of the two intervening officers. Pleminius, who had been as vile in his actions as any of the soldiers, was furious and had the two officers brought to him. He screamed at them for starting the disturbance, then had them stripped and publicly flogged. If things weren’t bad enough, some of the soldiers banded together against what they thought was unjust punishment of the officers. They sought out Pleminius and beat him to the edge of death. That’s when word got out, and Lucius called for Scipio to intervene.
What resulted was another two week delay of the campaign to Africa. Scipio went to Locri and held a second trial. Despite the complaints registered by the locals against Pleminius’ command, Scipio acquitted Pleminius and ordered the two officers who had stopped the soldier to be sent to Rome for punishment by the Senate.
After Scipio left Locri, Pleminius decided that Scipio had been too lenient on the two men. Instead of sending them to Rome, he had them brought to him in chains. He then personally tortured them until they were dead. Their mutilated bodies were taken from the city and left unburied in the wild.
While Scipio was in Locri, I visited Moira again. I found her weeding her garden. She looked up and actually greeted me with a smile. I got down on my knees and joined her and Donato pulling unwanted green things from between the vegetables, while Rosa played in the dirt beside us.
After weeding, Moira asked me to help her with one of the outbuildings that needed repair. We worked together the rest of the afternoon rebuilding a small lean-to building. We spoke little, mostly about the work we were doing. She was much more cordial to me than during the previous visit, though still somewhat guarded. She asked again about Troglius. Unfortunately my answer was the same. He was still missing.
Moira invited me to stay for the evening meal. This time I dawdled afterward, not really wanting to leave. Moira went about her chores and put the children to bed. She made some tea and we sat outside in the grass, watching the sun slip behind the hills to the west.
Both of us knew that the day had been leading to this moment. I leaned over her and kissed her on the lips. She embraced me and we lay on our sides so that we faced each other in the grass. When I pulled her dress up around her waist and put my hands on her bare bottom, she stopped m
e by touching me on the nose and looking through the darkness into my eyes.
“Timon, I want you tonight. Very much. But during the time you were in Rome, I was injured on the inside.” She ran her finger down my nose to my lips as a signal not to say anything until she was finished.
“I’m not quite the same down there,” she said with obvious meaning. “You may have me, but I’m a little tender and you’ll have to be gentle.” She became even more serious. I could see the stars glistening in the moisture gathering in her eyes. “And I can no longer have children.”
I started to speak, but again she pressed her finger to my lips.
“I know that you’re leaving for Africa at some point. And that I may never see you again. That’s all right. I know that tonight is only tonight.”
I started to sputter but she went on.
“You needed to know that I am not fit to be wife.” She shrugged her shoulders, her tears running sideways across her face. “If you had any thought of something like that.”
I was pressed against her now, my tunic above my navel and our warm bellies touching. “Thank you, Moira. I appreciate your honesty. We both know that we can’t read the future or see beyond this moment tonight. Let’s enjoy it as though the rest of the world has melted away, and only you and I and this night matter.”
Moira leaned into me and kissed me as though there were no tomorrow.
CHAPTER 53
The next two weeks passed quickly as Scipio accelerated preparation for the voyage to Africa. I managed my time so that I could go out to Moira’s farm one day a week to help with the work. There were no promises of love and no discussion of what might happen after the campaign in Africa, but Moira never failed to ask about Troglius. Six weeks had passed since the incident, and I still knew nothing. On one of my two trips to the farm she asked me to stay the night. Without daring to mention it, we were growing closer and it was good.
Sempronia, who I had told my mother was the perfect woman for me, now seemed a distant memory. The things that seemed so important in Rome—her wealth, her mother’s desire for her to marry a patrician—seemed so foreign in Sicily, especially when compared to Moira’s life on the farm, where there were no pretentions, just hard work while the sun was up and sleep at the end of the day. I had no doubt who my mother would prefer if I asked her for advice, but at this point what did it matter? I was going to Africa for an undetermined length of time. My life was on hold until I returned—if I returned. I was in no position to commit one way or another to anyone about anything.
I was in headquarters when Scipio told his staff that the delays in Locri had put the voyage to Africa in jeopardy. He was hesitant to take a large army to sea after the beginning of October. “We must be ready to leave in ten days,” he said, “or I will be forced to put the invasion off until the spring.”
Two days later, Scipio received a letter from the Senate with more bad news about the state of affairs in Locri. The week after Pleminius had tortured and killed the two Roman officers, a contingent of Locrians slipped out of the city and traveled to Rome. They went directly to the Senate to report what had happened. With tears in their eyes, they detailed the actions of Pleminius and his minions. Not only were their homes looted and trashed, but hardly a woman or a child had not been abused in some way, some repeatedly. They concluded their report by saying that on top of these crimes against the people Pleminius had looted the Temple of Proserpine of its silver and gold. The Locrians emphasized the brazenness of this act of thievery by recounting the long tradition of the sacred temple and its vast treasure, referencing the story of Pyrrhus’ plundering the temple seventy years earlier. The Greek general had loaded the silver and gold into his ships and set sail for Sicily. The first day at sea the fleet was overtaken by a vicious storm. Every ship containing any portion of the Proserpine treasure was capsized and washed up on the shore. Pyrrhus, fearing the storm had been caused by the goddess’ wrath, returned all the treasure he could recover to the temple. In conclusion, the Locrians claimed that Pleminius’ actions were the result of madness induced by Proserpine’s supernatural power, and that all of Rome would be similarly cursed if the treasure weren’t returned.
This caused a tremendous reaction in the Senate. When given a chance to question the Locrians, Fabius asked them if Scipio had any knowledge of Pleminius’ actions and if he, as well as Pleminius, should be held accountable.
They answered yes. Scipio’s timely arrival in Locri had allowed them to cast the Carthaginians out, but he was also responsible for putting Pleminius in command, adding that he had even returned to Locri later that summer to address tensions in the city. Instead of recognizing Pleminius’ poor character, Scipio had punished the wrong people and allowed Pleminius to remain in command and continue his criminal activities.
In the discussion that followed both Pleminius and Scipio were the targets of severe abuse from several of the senators. Fabius led the attack, saying that Pleminius’ actions were symptoms of a lack of discipline in Scipio’s command. The consul was unRoman. His attire and his actions were not even soldierly. He wore a toga in camp, wasted his time with reading, and enjoyed levels of luxury unbecoming of a commanding officer. Hadn’t Scipio already spent five months in Sicily? When did he intend to make his “glorious” voyage to Africa? The consul, stated Fabius, was not fit for command and should be recalled immediately.
Another senator, Quintus Metellus, agreed with much of what Fabius said, recommending that Pleminius should be brought to Rome for trial and that all the soldiers stationed in Locri should be removed to another garrison. Metellus, however, felt Fabius’ call to strip Scipio of his command was going too far.
In the ensuing debate, the Senate agreed that Pleminius should be brought back to Rome, his garrison relocated, and the temple’s treasure restored and doubled. But there was no majority to strip Scipio of his consulship. Instead, it was decided that the praetor in Sicily, Marcus Pomponius, who happened to be Scipio’s cousin, should go to Syracuse as soon as possible with ten members of the Senate and two tribunes of the plebs to hold an inquiry. Scipio’s methods of preparation, his discipline, his lifestyle, and the character of his troops would be reviewed. If the inquiry found Scipio lacking in any way, Pomponius would have the authority to remove him from his command. According to the letter sent to Scipio, the praetor and his team would be arriving in Syracuse in two weeks.
I was in headquarters reviewing changes in the map with Scipio, his brother Lucius, and Laelius when the letter arrived. Scipio read it and immediately exploded. “So this must be the work of my dear friend Fabius,” he snarled through gritted teeth. “Just enough delay to put the campaign to Africa off until the spring.” He had hoped to leave within a week. The inquiry meant no less than a three week delay. The risk of taking troops and the necessary provisions across the sea would increase every day afterward throughout the winter.
Lucius had arrived in camp a few days earlier with more volunteers and five warships. He and Laelius stood back as Scipio stomped back and forth across the tent. I had never seen him so angry or indignant.
“I will have my revenge on that old man,” he stated like an oath. “Just wait until I return from Africa with Hannibal’s head. He will eat his words. An inquiry on the eve of my leaving! Have I not already proven who I am? Jackals, that’s what they are. Come to snap at my heels while I do the deeds of gods.”
Scipio suddenly spun around and faced the three of us standing side by side at the map table. “Pleminius! Why did I trust such a man? For that one oversight, my entire ability to command has now been called into question.” He stood across from us and slammed his fist on the table. He glared at his brother and Laelius. “How can they do this?”
“Brother, you have always known that the man who dares to achieve the greatest glory, the man who takes on the most responsibility, also takes on the harshest criticism.” Lucius was two years younger than Scipio. He had the same fair hair and good looks, but not the s
ense of destiny that motivated his brother. “Let’s turn this inquiry into an opportunity to showcase your talents. Let’s prepare such a clear demonstration of military discipline for Pomponius and his jury that they will know their coming here was a farce instigated by a fool. We’ll let them know that we were ready to go and that the delay they’ve forced upon us only works to the advantage of our enemy.”
While Scipio appeared to weigh his brother’s words, Laelius added to them. “Another six months, Publius. Either we fume at the setback and waste our energy by arguing with the Senate, or we realize that it’s six more months to prepare—and more importantly to raise troops. Our numbers, right now, are twenty-one thousand foot and one thousand horse, not including what we might get from Masinissa. When you and I spoke of this a year ago, we imagined taking thirty thousand combined forces to Africa. Maybe this is fortunate. Maybe we can muster another five thousand men in the next six months.”
Scipio knew both men were right, but he was not in the mood to be soothed by rationale. He was angry and he shouted them down, but the next day and during the following two weeks, he acted on their words. He would put on a show like no review team had ever seen before, and set his sights on leaving in the spring with a larger invasion force.
CHAPTER 54
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