I had a free afternoon the following day and decided to go to Moira’s farm to tell her that I would be around for another six months. As I left the camp, the guard at the gate told me an old woman had come by asking to see me. He said she was a skinny Greek with a short temper and an ugly disposition. He told her to go away. The guard didn’t get her name, but there was only one person it could have been, and she would never have come to the camp if it weren’t important. Rather than going to see Moira, I decided to head into Syracuse and find Agathe.
I went straight to the tenement apartments where she lived. I didn’t see her right away, but I remembered which building Eurydice had come out of when I was there last. The door led to a narrow hall and an even narrower stairway. Four rooms were on the ground level. I knocked on the first door and got no answer. Before I knocked on the second door, Agathe came into the building.
“Agathe, did you come to the camp today looking for me?”
She nodded, and without a word, led me up the stairs to the second floor where there were four more rooms. She opened the first door on the left and I followed her in. Troglius sat on the floor with Agathe’s husband Galatus, a man who had lost his right arm and his left hand in battle. Troglius’ crooked face twisted into a wide smile. “I want back in the army,” he exclaimed, struggling to his feet. I saw an amphora and two cups on the floor between the men.
The huge man embraced me as he never had before.
“Where have you been?” I asked when he released me.
“I was down in those tunnels.”
“I looked for you there.”
“I got so badly mixed up in the dark I had to get out. I came here because there was nowhere else to go. I want you to take me back to the camp and tell them I made a mistake.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “The centurion didn’t die.”
His eyes went wide. “Maybe I will only be flogged!”
“That could be,” I replied, then I began to think. “One thing we do know, Troglius, is that Scipio would preside over the trial, and at times he listens to me. I might be able to bend his ear.” I turned to Agathe. “Can Troglius stay here a little longer? The timing for Troglius’ return would be better if we waited a couple of weeks.” I was thinking of the upcoming inquiry.
Agathe balled up her face in her usual ugly expression. “He’s been here this long, why not a bit longer. He eats more than the rest of us put together.”
“Maybe I can help.” I took a few coins from my tunic and gave them to Agathe, who quickly pocketed the money. I looked at Troglius. “Why did you come here?”
Eurydice appeared in the doorway. “He—he came here ask—asking for me.”
I glanced at Troglius, who was suddenly staring at his feet.
“But I’ve been taking care of him,” said Galatus, still sitting on the floor.
Agathe looked up at the ceiling. “He gives Galatus someone to talk to.”
“And drink with,” slobbered Troglius, who I had never known to drink at all.
“And he’s not bothering anyone?” I asked, remembering how Hektor had thrown himself at Eurydice when I worked in his kitchen.
“No—no,” said Eurydice. “He told us wh-wh-what happened. He’s a ka—ka—kind man, and we kn—knew he was your friend. He’s been a pleasure.”
“Then give me two more weeks, and I’ll be back to get him.”
Both women nodded. Troglius was staring at Eurydice.
“Troglius?”
He looked at me.
“Two more weeks?”
He nodded several times rapidly.
And so it was. I had found Troglius. I would represent him in his trial and begin preparing for it immediately. I would both present his defense and soften up Scipio—if I could. I excitedly headed back across the city to see if Moira might be in town.
When I reached the edge of the market, I headed to the location where she usually had her cart. I saw her from a distance, but she didn’t see me coming. As I got closer I was struck by the beauty of this barefoot brunette in a simple cotton chiton, who worked a fig orchard in the idyllic Sicilian farmland. I had seen more beautiful women in my life—Sempronia was one of them, as was Portia—but none of them exuded the sensuality of the earth the way Moira did. Although I didn’t want to say it outright to her, I could not imagine loving a woman more.
Moira looked up from a transaction she was completing and saw me standing a few feet away. She smiled, then finished attending to her customer.
When the customer walked away, I whispered the words, “I found Troglius.”
Her eyes lit up. “Is he all right?”
I motioned with my hand to keep her voice down. “He’s fine. I spoke to him earlier today. He wants to turn himself in.”
Donato heard us whispering and came up close to listen. He held his sister’s hand.
“What will happen then?” asked Moira.
“He will be put on trial. With a little luck, he could get off with twenty lashes.” I shook my head. “He’s a soldier through and through. It’s something he’s prepared for.”
Moira looked at her son, then to me. “Couldn’t it be worse than that?”
“Anything is possible after evading arrest for two months.” I looked around at the people milling through the market. “I have decided to represent him in the trial—with one goal—to keep him alive. Flogging is all but a certainty.”
“Truly, you’ll act as his lawyer?”
“He’s smarter than most people give him credit for, but he can’t speak for himself. He needs help.”
“Might they kill him?” asked Donato, who had become enamored with the man, though having seen him only once.
“I hope not, but I think your mother could help,” I looked at Moira, “ if she’s willing to come to the trial.”
Moira didn’t hesitate. “The man stood up for me. If you’re sure I could help, I would be happy to do whatever is necessary.”
“I’m not sure of anything right now, but there are only two arguments to make. He stood up for a woman in distress, and he’s irreplaceable on the battlefield.”
Moira handed me a fig. “When would the trial be?”
“Two or three weeks from now.”
“I thought you were leaving.”
“That’s my other news.” I popped the fig in my mouth. “We’re not going to Africa until the spring.”
“What could be better!” exclaimed Moira with a big grin. “The winter is slow on the farm, but the repairs I’ve let go are many—and the fig trees need to be pruned. That’s all much easier with help.”
“I thought you’d be pleased.”
A woman came up to Moira’s cart and began to assess the fruit. Moira glanced at the woman, then looked at me. “Maybe the Roman army will never even go to Africa.”
“Don’t count on that. I doubt anything will stop Scipio from going to Africa. But I do welcome the delay—though in some ways I want to get on with it. I want the war to be over. None of us are free of its impact until then.”
“Come out to the farm before the trial. I need to know what to say.”
“Of course.”
The woman had filled a basket with produce. Moira nodded to me, then turned away to assist her customer.
Donato tugged at my tunic. “Don’t let them kill, Troglius, Timon.”
I patted the boy on the head. “I’ll do what I can, Donato. I’ll do what I can—and don’t repeat a word of any of this to anyone!”
CHAPTER 55
Pomponius, Sicily’s praetor, was stationed in Lilybaeum. He met his legal team in Locri on the first leg of their trip from Rome. They spent three days there to ask questions and allow the citizens another opportunity to voice their complaints. When the inquiry was completed, they sent Pleminius and thirty-two others to Rome in chains for imprisonment.
The entire review team, Pomponius, ten senators, and the two tribunes of the plebs, arrived in Syracuse after the two-day voyage from Locri. They were lodg
ed in a large villa in Neapolis. I learned from Laelius that one of the tribunes was Marcus Claudius. His second day in Syracuse he came to our camp and found me.
I lived in a tent with seven other soldiers, just as I would during a campaign. I was sitting at the campfire after the evening meal when he walked up.
I immediately stood and embraced him. I suggested we take a walk. We went out the camp’s back gate and into the low hills to the west. It was still daylight, and the sun was behind us. The view to the east was stunning in its clarity. Thick banks of clouds sat off in the distance over the sea.
“I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you, Marcus. I didn’t know until yesterday that you were part of Pomponius’ legal team.” I thumped him playfully on the shoulder. “You look well.”
“And so do you. I hear the invasion has been put off because of the inquiry. Is that true? Was Scipio really ready to go?”
“We’d already be there if not for the trouble in Locri. I’m not aware of all the reasons for the review, but attention to detail cannot be one of them. Scipio is remarkably organized and knows exactly what he wants to do. Would you really take away his command?”
“We’ll see. The Locrians used only the worst words to describe Pleminius, but their criticism of Scipio was relatively mild. They felt he lacked sympathy for their predicament and that he trusted Pleminius too much. They said Scipio was a good man who had badly misjudged his subordinate. Considering how bad it had been in Locri, they were as positive as anyone could expect. It was important that they didn’t target him with any specific abuses.”
“What do you think of Scipio?”
“I’m a little jealous, but he’s proven himself over and over again on the battlefield. I’m not certain if going to Africa is necessary, but if anyone should go, I’d say Scipio is the man—especially if he can show us something in the review tomorrow. Fabius has called him lax and undisciplined. That could lose an officer his command. But you like him.”
“He’s arrogant, Marcus. You already know that. But he’s also extremely smart, and as tough a drillmaster as your father was. You’ll see it tomorrow. But no more talk of the military, how is my mother? Tell me that she’s well. No news is as important as that.”
Marcus smiled. “Your mother and Lucretia have settled in like family. Meda and your mother seem to have become friends. They make a curious pair.”
I laughed. “How’s her health though? Has her color come back?”
“I didn’t know her before the poisoning, but I would say she’s still quite pale. Anyone can tell she’s recovering from something serious.”
“Who knows that she’s there?”
Marcus tipped his head. “I’ve said nothing. I don’t believe she’s gone into Rome more than a few times since you left, but my mother may have said something. I overheard her talking one day—to the woman who always wears black. I don’t know her name.”
“Paculla Annia”
“That’s the one.”
I shook my head. “That’s not good news.”
“There’s been nothing else, Timon. No one has come out to the farm, and there’s no reason they would. I wouldn’t worry.”
Despite his words, I could imagine little worse than Paculla knowing the whereabouts of my mother, especially if Portia had told her that I had called her a fake. Lost in thought, I stared out at the ocean. The sun had slipped behind the hills, tinting the undersides of the clouds a pale orange.
Marcus put his hand on my shoulder. “Your mother will be fine. She’s got to be the least of Hannibal’s worries. Last I heard both armies in the south have been struck by the plague. Neither Hannibal’s army nor Livinius’ legions are in any shape to fight. The war in the south has stopped completely.”
“What about Mago? I heard he’s gathering troops in Etruria?”
“He’s contained for now. I don’t think he’s as dangerous as Hasdrubal. Time will tell—but I must get back to the city before it gets any darker. Will I see you tomorrow?”
“I won’t be at the inquiry, but I’ll be at the military review. Scipio has asked me to grade the exercises.”
“Then I’ll see you there. It should be an interesting day.”
CHAPTER 56
The inquiry took place in the morning at the villa in Syracuse where Pomponius and his twelve-man team were staying. They questioned Scipio about the events in Locri. I wasn’t there, but judging from Scipio’s mood when I saw him afterward, it must have gone well.
Following the inquiry, the legal team was taken to the battlements on the south wall of the city that overlooked the Great Harbor. Scipio offered the men chairs to sit in and then directed their attention to the open field between the harbor and our camp. Scipio wore full armor—a dazzlingly bronze cuirass and red plumed helmet, a matching bronze greave on his left shin, and his gladius on his hip. Pomponius, an over-weight man with a deep ugly cough, and his team were in togas. It was a breezy afternoon. A few had red mantles draped over their shoulders. Twenty trumpeters, ten on each side of the attendees, stood ready with their trumpets. I was there with my wax pad and bronze stylus.
Scipio, who was his most charming self all day, asked the men if they were ready. When all said they were, he raised his gladius over his head. The trumpeters lifted their instruments. Scipio stroked down and the twenty trumpets sounded. The front gate to our camp opened and four legions of soldiers—two allied, two Roman—just under twenty thousand men, marched out in perfect order and assumed regimental position in the field.
Scipio again raised his gladius to signal another round of trumpet blasts. One thousand cavalry, riding four abreast, came from behind the camp and rode down the slight incline to take their position with the other soldiers.
Using the trumpets as signals, Scipio ran the four legions through a series of maneuvers. Following Scipio’s direction, the four legions then split into two groups, each with a Roman legion and an allied legion. They faced off in two lines as though opposing armies with five hundred cavalry on a side. With another round of trumpet blasts, the two armies’ velites raced across the field and tossed their javelins at the opposition to simulate the opening of a battle. The tribunes then signaled for their men, who were carrying wooden swords, to advance into a mock battle that demonstrated a variety of troop movements—the advance of hastati, the support of the principes, the reinforcement of the triarii, and a series of sorties on the flanks by the cavalries. All was carried out with enough actual sword play to create the drama and feel of a real battle.
When the two armies retreated back into formation, the thirteen men on the battlements stood as one and applauded. Even I, who had witnessed the long hours of training, was impressed.
After the four legions and the accompanying cavalry had returned to the camp, Scipio directed his audience’s attention to the Great Harbor. On Scipio’s signal and the blare of trumpets, twenty warships, which had been waiting outside the harbor, rowed into the harbor two abreast, then separated to opposite sides of the harbor. Much as the soldiers had simulated combat on land, the ships enacted battle at sea. The ships drew up side by side. The marines fought across the gunwales, boarded the opposing ships, and engaged in a fairly realistic battle. At one point, one of the ships slid along the side of another, breaking off all the oars, a standard battle maneuver.
The military exercises took all afternoon. The sun had begun its descent when the last of the ships were pulled onto shore and the marines deboarded. All thirteen men on the review team raved about the discipline and precision of both demonstrations. They gathered around Scipio and praised him for his work. After a quick survey of his team’s opinions, Pomponius announced that Scipio had nothing to worry about. His command was secure. The inquiry team would present only the highest praise to the Senate.
“I don’t believe there was ever a finer looking army in all of Rome’s history,” stated Pomponius, followed by several watery coughs. “Carthage has no chance, Consul. You are sure to bring glor
y to Rome.”
CHAPTER 57
I spoke with Marcus the day after the review. It was in the evening. His team would leave for Rome the following morning.
“Did you agree with Pomponius’ assessment of Scipio?”
Marcus nodded. “I did, but perhaps not as wholeheartedly.”
“Why do you say that?”
Marcus chuckled. “Like I said before, envy. No, I was impressed by what Scipio showed us yesterday, but I was not so impressed by his explanation of what happened in Locri. The others accepted it, and I didn’t fight it. But he made a critical mistake—the kind of mistake a commander can’t make. He trusted the wrong man. Pleminius was the worst of what is Roman. My father would have executed him on the spot. Scipio should have. It was a grievous error. Only Scipio’s outstanding record prevented his downfall. Even the Locrians said they admired Scipio despite his mistake. Like many Romans, they believe he’s the man who will finally bring an end to the war.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. Partly because of his ability and partly because of the circumstances. Rome has been destined to win this war from the beginning. No one would have said that fifteen years ago, but that’s how it’s played out. And Scipio is the right man, in the right place, at the right time—perfectly positioned to deliver the final blow. Sometimes great actions are the result of many smaller actions coming together at the same time. That’s what’s happening for Scipio.”
“How would you compare him to your father?”
Marcus shook his head. “You’re asking the wrong man.”
“Then you believe your father was a better general.”
He nodded as though there could be no question. “Did you see that Cato is in camp?”
“The young lawyer from the forum?”
“Yes, he came from Messana with Scipio’s brother. Hopefully you won’t have much contact with him. If he sees you, he’ll connect you with me. That could only be bad.” His laugh was sardonic. “Are you enjoying your return to military life?”
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