The Man With Two Names

by Vincent B Davis II

  “You better have ample wine.” Norbanus grinned, and Marius snapped his fingers at a nearby slave.

  “Make sure they’re all sated, but not too much. This is a conversation for sober minds.”

  “Well, what is it then? Don’t keep us waiting all evening,” Rufus said.

  “Gather ’round then, gentleman,” Marius said and we all crept up to his desk. “I have been contacted by a man named Lucius Reginus, who claims to be on very intimate terms with the consul-elect Quintus Caepio. Given Julius’s marriage to the daughter of Aurelius Cotta, that makes us extended family with the Cottae and the Caepiones to boot. Reginus said that in the interests of the state, he wishes for a parley between our two parties.” He suddenly stopped and looked around, before leaning in and continuing in a quieter tone, “It appears that the Caepiones have fallen out with the Metelli, to some extent, and wish to come to a truce with us, to ensure that Quintus Caepio is elected with Maximus as his co-consul, rather than allowing Metellus Pius to have the second chair.”

  Rufus shook his head. “That seems hard to believe… . Numidicus and Gnaeus Caepio are like brothers.”

  “To all appearances, yes. But from what Reginus said, the Cottae and Caepiones have discussed things with the Father of the Senate, Marcus Scaurus, who has never liked Numidicus, and they’ve decided it’s not in the best interests of their alliance to allow his son to be elected. They stated his age as the reason, but it isn’t difficult to see that they’re simply tired of the Metelli. They’re a plebeian clan that has risen to consider themselves equal to the patricians.”

  “But Scaurus is married to Pius’s first cousin, is he not? This would be quite a betrayal,” said Rufus.

  “A scandal, more like.” Sextus Caesar smirked.

  “Yes, Rufus, you are right. And that is why I was sworn to secrecy. They said that this must be handled with the utmost confidentiality. I’m only cleared to discuss it with you gentlemen here. No one outside this tent is to know.”

  “And what makes you think that this Lucius Reginus is worth trusting?” Julius spoke for the first time.

  “I’ve checked my sources. It seems he is hardly ever away from Quintus Caepio’s side. Some whisper they are actually lovers, but that is no matter. He came bearing a sealed letter with the Caepiones’ insignia on the wax. It gave us instructions to meet in Ostia tomorrow after dark.” Marius took the parchment from a fold of his toga and passed it around.

  “This sounds incredibly dangerous, Marius. You of all people should know how an enemy sets a trap. What if they try to attack you en route?” said Rufus, ever the soldier and pragmatist.

  “I agree. In the letter, I’m directed to take a boat from the Aventine port. Supposedly it will be provided by our ally Gaius Glaucia and we will be rowed down the Tiber to Ostia, without the sailors having any information of our voyage. But I find that too dangerous. So I say that we take the Via Aurelia—” He ran his fingers along a nearby map. “—here, down to Ostia through the northern gate. As for once we enter the city … we have arranged protection from an ally of mine, Saturninus, who is the grain monitor there and has a detachment of guards under his command. Any objections?” Marius scanned our faces.

  “If you trust that this is the best idea, then we will follow you,” Rufus said finally.

  “This shows me that the nobles’ position is desperately weak. I do not think they would suffer one pleb to serve in office in the place of another unless they felt confident that only one patrician could be elected. This is what we’ve been waiting for!” Heads nodded silently. “It’s settled then. Hirtuleius, round up ten of our best men and meet us here no earlier than the second watch. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. You must guard Maximus with your life. The future of Rome hinges upon it.”

  “Understood, General.” With that, we were dismissed. Some of the men, notably Maximus, stuck around to speak with Marius further. It was difficult to gauge how Maximus felt about the whole ordeal, but he surely trusted Marius to his core. I returned home to a restless night, and the next day prepared myself for whatever the gods had ordained.

  THERE WAS something strange about the air that night as we reconvened in Marius’s tent. There was a stillness—a mist seemed to linger there and glisten in the light of the full moon. Maximus had persuaded Marius to stay behind, saying his presence was an unnecessary risk, so I set off with only the consul-elect and ten men under my command. We moved silently through the maze of tents to the Via Aurelia in the northwest of Rome. Everywhere men were sleeping, the only sounds the occasional snoring and the crunch of our sandals on the Italian dirt.

  “Men, form a protective column,” I whispered, and the boys split, five to the left and five to the right, on either side of the road. Maximus took the middle and I guarded his flank.

  My heart raced.

  We found the road to be completely deserted. In those days, the roads were far too dangerous at night for the average traveler, but I wasn’t particularly concerned about brigands. They would not attack a well-trained column of Roman soldiers, whatever the hour. Still, as we passed between rows of endless ancestral tombs, it felt as if we were being watched from all sides. Perhaps the dead themselves had returned to earth to witness our journey, knowing that the balance of power in their ancient families now hinged on the success or failure of our mission.

  We moved at a slow, cautious pace for half an hour until I called the column to a halt.

  “Sir, this is where we are to cut off the main road for Ostia. Any orders?” I asked Maximus quietly.

  “No. Lead on.” Maximus seemed cautious as well, swiveling his head often, his eyes extremely alert, but there was also a serenity, a calm bravery about him that gave me peace.

  I signaled for the column to make a turn off the road and continue along the well-worn dirt path toward Ostia. At the sides of the road were large overgrown fields of grass and thick weeds. I specifically remember hearing insects buzzing, and once, the rustling of some animal gave us all a fright. Finally we reached the point where we were to turn again off our path through a patch of briar directly to the Ostian gate. I signaled the turn with hand gestures alone, and we kept silent as we moved along. I went in front of Maximus, pushing aside most of the weeds and vines before he came to them.

  Suddenly, we heard shuffling from all around us. I didn’t give the command to halt, but the entire line stopped and began to crane their necks at the noise.

  A stillness enveloped us. Then suddenly a tumult sounded and I heard the stomping of feet.

  “Sir, there’s someone in the fields,” I hissed. “What would you like us to do? Perhaps they’ve set a trap for us.”

  Maximus’s jaw flexed for a moment as he contemplated the matter. “No, it’s probably just a beggar we’ve frightened. Besides, no one knows our path of travel, do they? We have to press on.” I knew he was calculating the reward and deemed it worth the risk.

  “Come on, men, keep moving,” I said.

  Then a flaming torch shot past us. And another.

  War cries arose from the briar around us, and I heard the sound of swords unsheathing from all sides. Helmets glistened in the moonlight. These were no bandits.

  “Defensive positions!” I shouted—no need for silence any longer.

  I wrangled Maximus into the center of the column. The men formed a circle around us.

  In a flash, men sprang forth from the vegetation as though they had been catapulted. The clatter of their swords against our shields was deafening. I’d been prepared for this moment, but nevertheless, my focus couldn’t stop switching from one spot to the next, and soon I realized we were surrounded.

  “Sir, get down!” I shouted at Maximus as more torches flashed past us, but I found that he too had brandished his sword and was standing his ground. He was calmer than us all.

  The men on the left began to falter. I rushed to help.

  I could hear the soft noises of sword penetrating
flesh, and the screams that followed, but in the night it was hard to tell who was slaying whom.

  I ran to the position right behind one of my companions from training camp and lunged over his shoulder to stab one of our assailants through the collarbone. The man wailed as blood poured from the wound like water from an overturned vase.

  I swiveled to the left to catch a fat man rushing my flank. He stabbed at my side, but I dodged just in time so that he only sliced the inner part of my arm. I bull-rushed him with my shield, pushing him backwards, but he was a great deal larger than I, and I lost my footing on the loose earth. I stumbled to the ground and dropped my shield, lucky to have held on to my sword. The man was immediately on me, slicing wildly with his dagger. I followed his movements as I scrambled to my feet and stepped back slowly. He lunged, but I evaded the strike and plunged my gladius into his gut. The man fell forward to the tip of my blade and collapsed into me, blood spilling from his lips over my shoulders. I lost balance and stumbled back over the side of the road into a ditch.

  I landed hard, the dead man crashing down atop me and sending the hilt of my gladius directly into my ribs. The breath in my lungs shot out in a fury. Everything went black. I tried to blink myself awake. I was in a haze, a dream. The fury continued about me, but I couldn’t free myself from the dead man. My ribs throbbing, my left arm nearly paralyzed.

  When I came to—probably just a few moments later—I heard only a few footsteps on the dirt above me.

  I had failed Maximus. I had failed Rome.

  My grief roused me and gave me enough energy to finally push the corpse away.

  “You best stop all this nonsense about being consul, Mallius Maximus, or otherwise this tumult might continue into your home. It would be a real shame if something happened to that ill-born daughter of Marius.” I slowly began the climb from the ditch to the road, and spied two men standing above the ailing consul-elect. “We will keep you alive tonight as a gift to Marius, but there will be no such niceties in the future. The Caepiones and the Metelli send their regards to your chief.” I sprang to my feet, bloody sword in hand and rushed them from behind. I jammed my blade through one’s back.

  The other leaped into action. I pushed the ailing man from my sword into his companion, who threw the man aside and lunged forward. I swung my blade up in time to deflect his, and on the recoil he stabbed at my gut. With my shield hand I grabbed the blade of his sword and tried to hold it from me.

  The blade dug deep into my flesh. Veins split.

  I held onto the assailant’s blade with all the strength I still had, and plunged my own sword beneath his arm and through the back of his torso. He shook violently. His eyes rolled back. Then he collapsed.

  I stumbled for a moment, until the adrenaline finally waned and the pain returned to my hand, arm, and ribs.

  “Sir, are you all right?” I nearly collapsed, but my terror held me upright. There was no reply. I could make out Maximus’s glistening brown eyes in the moonlight, and I could see rhythms of breathing as well as a slight tremor of his flesh. He was alive, but he wasn’t in good shape. I ran to his side and hoisted him onto my shoulders, as we had been taught to carry casualties in battle. Ignoring the pain in my ribs, I moved like the Marathon runner for the Field of Mars.

  WHEN I ARRIVED at the tent, I found Marius sitting at his desk, unable to sleep on such a night. At my entrance, Maximus still slung over my shoulder, I saw Marius’s face morph from excitement to terror.

  “Gods!” It was the only thing he managed to say as he rushed toward us. I moved past him to the back room, where I lay Maximus down on Marius’s cot. “Run and get a doctor!” Marius finally shouted to one of his slaves. “What has happened?” he demanded of me. I could tell from his voice that, despite his distress, he was hoping I could tell him we’d been attacked by a simple party of ruffians, that he had not been betrayed.

  “Attacked by agents of the Caepiones and the Metelli. They said they send their regards.” In the blink of an eye, Marius’s famous rage appeared before me, as if he were possessed by the spirit of Mars himself. He backhanded an amphora of wine. He picked up his side table and threw it across the tent. He scattered his parchment all across the room and slammed his fists onto his desk.

  “I swear by the sons of Dis that I will hang their heads on pikes in the Forum!” His voice could have been heard across the entire Field of Mars. “Someone has betrayed me. One of my own men has betrayed me! And when I find out who …”

  He tried to collect himself but his fury was not to be abated. While Marius shouted curses, I grabbed someone’s cloak from the ground and tucked it between the cut on my arm and my damaged ribs, doing all I could to stay conscious through the pain, ignoring the wheeze in my breath. I sat at Marius’s desk and scrambled to find pen and paper.

  TO SERTORIUS:

  Amicus, I have bad news. Your patrons have ordered an attack on Marius’s ally Maximus and have successfully killed ten of my comrade. They’ve terribly injured the consul-elect and have left me wounded. Don’t worry about me—I’ll be fine. Now you have to look to yourself, to ensure that violence like this does not come to you in time.

  Lucius Hirtuleius

  I ROLLED UP THE LETTER, placed it in a carrier, and handed it to Mago. “At first light you are to ensure that this reaches the hands of Quintus Sertorius directly. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, master.”

  “On your life—no one else must see it, for his safety and ours.”

  “Yes, master.” Suddenly, my duties complete, my weariness and pain entrapped me and I collapsed onto the floor of Marius’s tent.

  SCROLL X

  DECEMBER 28, 648 AB URBE CONDITA; ONE DAY UNTIL ELECTION.

  When I returned home from Marius’s tent that evening, I received a most welcome letter. It was from my mother, telling me she had arrived in Rome for the elections, along with Volesa and my nephew, Gavius. They were staying at an inn on the Caelian Hill, and she bade me to come visit them when I could.

  I was thrilled. It was a chance for me to show my mother the work I had been doing, the man I had become. But regardless of how much I desired to spend time with my family, there was a great deal I needed to do in the domus. I was serving as an aide to Quintus and Gnaeus, running whatever errands they required of me and accompanying them to the Forum, where they spread word of their impending victory in the election. The Metelli and Aurelius Cotta spent a great deal of time with us, and smiles and good cheer abounded as they began to celebrate; it was as though Quintus and Pius had already won the election. I found such an abrupt shift in emotion odd. They’d displayed nothing but anxiety and discomfort since the beginning of the campaign, and a great fear of failure had loomed. But now, suddenly, they felt certain of their victory.

  It wasn’t until the next day that I learned why.

  That morning I accompanied Gnaeus to the morning levy. Quintus, meanwhile, was attending a meeting of the senate, wherein they discussed procedures for the elections that would begin in three days, if the signs were auspicious.

  After Gnaeus had received all his clients, he asked me to accompany him to the peristylum.

  “Sertorius, I am very glad that you have been a part of this campaign. It has been a pleasure working alongside you and seeing you grow into a man. I think you’ll have a bright future in Rome.” He sat down cheerfully on a bench beside the greenery.

  “I’m deeply honored to have served Rome in whatever capacity I could, sir,” I replied.

  “All this fuss will be over soon enough, and when things have settled down, we shall see to it that Nursia is rewarded for their loyalty… . And we shall see that you are rewarded as well.”

  “Master Sertorius,” came Crito’s voice from the atrium. “A letter has arrived for you. The messenger is waiting at the door.”

  I hastened to follow him.

  “I swear, you could have written a volume on Rome with all the letter-writing you do!” Gnaeus shouted good-naturedly after me.


  At first, I did not recognize the man at the door. He was clad in a simple tunic and bore a hood that shrouded his face. What little of him I could see was so grim that it made my stomach drop.

  Finally I placed him. It was Marius’s body slave—the massive Numidian.

  He brandished a scroll and placed it firmly in my hand.

  “Read this quickly, young master,” he said. I was so perplexed that I could not reply until he had already turned on his heels and departed.

  I took no time in breaking the seal and poring over the letter. I cannot describe the effect it had on me. My heart sank deep into my stomach, and I lost all the strength in my hands, so that the parchment slipped through my fingers and drifted to the floor. My feet carried me back to the peristylum.

  “Tell me it isn’t true,” I managed to say at length, stumbling, bracing myself against a column. I shut my eyes and clenched my fists, doing all that I could to restrain my anger.

  “Hmm?” Gnaeus said carelessly as he analyzed the flowers.

  “Tell me!” I shouted. He whirled around, his expression one of extreme displeasure at being addressed this way by only a provincial client.

  “Before I can tell you anything, I need to know of what you speak. And while you are at it, mind your tone, boy.”

  “Is it true that you ordered an attack on the consul-elect Gnaeus Mallius Maximus?”

  “I have done no such thing!” He sounded appalled.

  “Then why have armed men beaten the largest threat to your political maneuverings within an inch of his life? My closest friend was nearly killed in the attack!”

  “Sertorius.” Gnaeus wagged his finger at me, barely holding in his irritation. “I do not know of what you speak.”

  “Is it true?” I screamed, forgetting entirely my place. I could hold back my anger no longer. Gnaeus’s breathing came heavy and quick, his eyebrows furrowed and his glare menacing.