“Tomorrow every Greek in this city will be drunk, and we’ll be responsible for maintaining order. I’m going to sleep. I suggest you gentlemen do the same.”
I expected the hordes of people. I didn’t anticipate the livestock. Every Athenian descendant from across the Mediterranean had sailed to Attika. And each of them brought a sacrifice for Athena. Centurion Herennius, Castor, and I pointed out animals of every size and shape, each adorned with garlands, laurels, and a colorful tapestries. An outsider would have thought the pigs, oxen, and goats were the ones celebrating.
The smell of baking sweet cakes mixed with the stench of livestock feces. All around us the Athenians danced and swayed to the lyres and harps playing throughout the agora. Couples leaned up against walls and kissed.
“This isn’t as bad as I imagined,” Herennius said, relaxing his shoulders.
“Give it a few more hours, friend,” I said. “When the wine starts flowing this whole city will be in chaos.”
We strolled through the marketplace in loose ranks, four abreast and ten deep. We narrowly fit through the slim paths between the stalls pedaling their wares to drunken visitors. Castor walked at the front with the Centurion and me as my new shield bearer. Although, one must admit he seemed to be struggling just to carry his own shield, still not filling out the armor, its weight a strain on his thin frame.
Centurion Herennius leaned toward me and whispered, “And if you want to partake in this wine, I’ll look the other way.” He winked.
I laughed and shook my head. “I wouldn’t expect it of you, centurion. But I appreciate your offer.”
“I mean it! I served a tour in Thrace some years back. Whenever we would have a moment to ourselves, we’d all drink together,” he said. “Whoever was the most sober got the highest rank. We passed around the officer’s crest like we did the wine, and before I knew it there was a First Spear wearing the crestless helm of a recruit.”
“No. You can’t mean it.” I laughed. “Really?”
A dancing man stumbled into me. He jumped back and ran off when he saw our armor.
Herennius raised his hand to take the oath. “On Jupiter’s stone.”
“If I did drink, these Mules would be sure to join me.” I gestured to the legionaries behind me. “They’d be off bedding merchant’s wives and gambling away their rations on dice throws by the end of the watch.”
He chuckled. “You may be right.”
A small wrestling bout broke out between a few stalls a few hundred feet ahead of us. Nothing too serious, probably over the hand of a duplicitous lover if I had to guess. But it caused a disturbance regardless.
I caught the eye of one of their associates and shouted, “You stop it or I will.”
They quickly wrapped up the dueling drunks and pulled them apart, allowing us to continue our march.
A burly legionary with crooked teeth shouted from behind us, “This must be agonizing for you, aye, Castor? All your friends,” he pointed to the pigs, “marching to their deaths.” He maintained a feigned seriousness but several of the men behind us burst into laughter.
I threw up a fist to signal for a halt. I turned to the legionary and squared up to him.
“Your name?”
“Rufus, legate,” he said, a glimmer in his eye which indicated he still found it very funny.
“I have need of something.” I fished out a few coins from the pouch on my belt and handed it to him. “That stall there. It’s selling bread, isn’t it?”
“Yes?” he said with a raised eyebrow, his companions cackling as they anticipated his punishment.
“Go and purchase a loaf for me. But I want you to crawl along the ground. Crawl to that merchant and buy the bread with your face on the stone.”
His jaw dropped as his eyes darted back and forth between Herennius and myself.
“I’m sorry, legate. … I was only—”
“No need to explain, lad. This isn’t a punishment,” I said. “I just want bread. And I want you to purchase it. From the ground.”
When he saw Herennius was now laughing with the rest of us and wouldn’t be of any assistance, he slowly lowered himself to the ground, eyes fixed on the soot and animal dung awaiting him.
It made for quite a spectacle, watching a legionary crawl twenty paces to purchase a loaf of bread. The Athenians scratched their heads, stupefied.
“You didn’t have to do that, sir,” Castor said, his face still blushed from the insult.
“Truly, I just wanted the bread,” I said, loud enough for the rest of the men to hear.
It might seem cruel to someone who hasn’t served. But the embarrassment would ensure the legionaries wouldn’t insult others so flagrantly. When enough time passed, he’d find the humor in it. Then he’d at least have one legion story to tell his family that he wouldn’t be too haunted to tell.
Rufus returned and snapped to attention in front of me, holding the bread aloof like he was delivering a precious letter. “Your bread, legate.”
I took the dirty bread but let him keep the remaining coins. I split the loaf and threw it into the paths of a few pigs. “Job well done, soldier.” I clapped him on the shoulder and gestured for him to return to formation.
Signaling for us to continue our march, Herennius bit his knuckle to keep from laughing. “These Greeks look like they’ve been asked an intricate riddle.”
“If they only knew the nonsense intrinsic to wearing this uniform,” I said. “Wait, is that the Stoa up ahead?” I craned to see over the procession before us.
“I wouldn’t know, legate. Not much for philosophy,” Herennius said. “At this rate we’ll be there by tomorrow evening.” He shook his head at the slow crowds before us.
“I like riddles,” Castor said.
“Oh, you do?” I asked.
“Ilithyia used to tell the best riddles,” he said as if we knew her. “Would you like to hear one?”
“I’ll leave it to you, legate. They make my head hurt,” Herennius said.
“What month has twenty-eight days?” Castor asked.
“Well, that’s not a riddle, boy. That’s just a question. Well, there’s June… and Sextilis…” Herennius pondered it.
I thought about the twelve months all but one had over twenty-eight days. It wasn’t a very good riddle, if I’d ever heard one.
“Februarius,” Herennius concluded.
“All of them,” Castor said with a boyish grin.
“Ah! I see what you’ve done. Very clever.” I smiled.
“No… Some of the months have thirty days? And others still have thirty-one?” Herennius said.
“Give the centurion just a moment to consider it, Castor.” I chuckled.
He scrunched his face until the moment of realization. “Ah. I understand. Clever. Let’s have another then, one not full of trickery.”
“I’m not sure you understand the point of riddles, friend,” I said.
“I shave every day but my beard stays the same,” Castor said. “What am I?”
“Out of regulation,” Herennius said. “No, a babyface. You can’t grow anything?”
“No. That’s not it!” Castor said, eagerly.
“A Gaul. Hairy bastards,” I said.
“A barber!” Castor said, more animated than usual.
“Clever.” I said. “Very clever.”
We marched on as Castor thought over a few more riddles. As dancers were forced to step out of our path I heard, “These are Athenian games, not Roman!”
I said to the men, “As long as it’s just words, we keep marching.”
“Roman dogs!” others shouted.
They were drunk, I told myself. Timoxenos’ men would take care of it regardless. They knew their limits, and they didn’t actually desire to test Rome.
We approached the Stoa on our right, and as the crowds slowly migrated on, I could see inside clearly.
I called for a halt, surprised at the simplicity of the building. A rectangular building with si
mple Doric columns and chipping paint on the walls. There were innumerable buildings just like it in Rome, and probably throughout Greece. But my eyes welled up regardless.
To think centuries before, men just like my father gathered here to talk about finding meaning in a tragic world. If not for the words spoken by those columns, I wouldn’t have made it back from Arausio. I couldn’t have endured the Cimbri camp. And I wouldn’t have survived my first year in the senate.
“Legate?” I felt Castor turn to me, but I couldn’t break my gaze.
There was nothing within but a few benches and a beggar shaking an empty bowl toward the crowd. But I believe I could still hear the echoes: Man conquers the world by conquering himself.
I thought of my father, my brother, and all the men I’d lost. That’s what they had taught me, and because of their teaching I was able to endure life without them. I blinked the tear from my eye and forced a smile. “I have a riddle, Castor.”
“And I’ll bet I can answer it,” he said.
“Who is ‘the one who can see all, but is seen by none’?” I asked, not really expecting an answer.
He thought of it for a moment, and I began to inform him I didn’t know the answer either. But first his eyes widened, and he pointed to the old beggar leaned up against the stoa columns. “Him!”
The beggar spoke to those passing him by, offering his sad story and asking for help. No one listened.
My hands felt numb and the hair raised on my arms.
“Was I right?” he asked.
“I believe you were, Castor,” I said. “Herennius, take watch for a moment.”
“Take a break, lads. Remain within eyeshot,” he shouted.
I cantered over to the beggar and slipped the coin purse from my belt. He didn’t notice me until I was at his side, and he jumped when he saw me.
“I’ve done nothing wrong, sir! Nothing wrong, sir!” He shuffled away but I took off my helm and took a knee beside him.
“I’m just here to give you something.” I jingled the coins in my hand.
“Athena bless you!” he said, holding out the bowl and bowing his head low.
“Where do you hail from?” I asked, placing a coin within the bowl. Even if the dream meant something and Castor was correct in his guess, I didn’t know what to ask the man.
“Here, sir. Here!” He pointed to the earth beneath us.
“Athens?”
“Right here. It’s all I can ever remember,” he said.
I couldn’t determine whether he meant Greece, Athens, or perhaps even the columns of the Stoa itself. “Were you born a free man?” I asked.
People began to notice him now, probably expecting to see him dragged off and punished for begging on the day of a festival.
“I was and still am.” He straightened. “Patrobos of the Erechthesis tribe.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Patrobos. My name is Quintus Sertorius.” I shook his hand.
His smiled revealed rotting teeth. “All Romans are named Quintus, aren’t they?”
“Most of us, at least.” I looked over my shoulder to ensure the men were behaving and found most of them watching me. “I have a question for you, Patrobos. Have you seen any Roman citizens—probably named Quintus—who’ve been enslaved or gone missing?”
I placed two more coins in his bowl, but he caught my hand and pushed it back.
“You’ve already done enough, Quintus from Rome.” His pride was kindled since he spoke his name, and he appeared almost a different man than the wretch who crawled away from me. “A few Romans used to bring me coins, but they don’t any longer. I don’t know what happened to them. But if it’s to do with slavery, Hyrkanos of Achaia will know if it. Not a slave is sold in this city without his knowing.”
I took a deep breath. Hyrkanos. Nothing definitive, but I had a name.
“Do you know where this Hyrkanos is?”
Patrobos spoke with an even but gravelly tone. “He works from the base of the Areopagus—Ares’ Hill.”
“Are you certain I can’t give you something else for your aid?”
“Don’t need it.” He shook his bowl. “With this I’ll eat and drink with the rest of Athens tonight. The gods will give me what I need tomorrow.”
“It’s been a pleasure to meet you, Patrobos. Perhaps we’ll cross paths again before I leave.”
He reached out and took my hand. “If you cross paths with Hyrkanos… kill him. I’ve friends he sold for a pittance. He’s a wretch.” He didn’t release me until I nodded.
“What was that about?” Herennius asked.
I bit my thumbnail and recirculated the name Hyrkanos through my mind. “Herennius, if I thought there was someone here who posed a threat to Rome, would I be right to stop them?”
“Who? That old bag?” He chuckled until he realized I was serious. “Proconsul says we should report to the mercenaries, right?”
I considered it. But could Timoxenos be trusted? What if he was involved? Even if he wasn’t, wouldn’t fear preclude him from acting?
“It’s something only Rome can handle.”
He searched my eye for more information. Not finding it, he clasped my shoulder. “I know you, legate. I trust your judgement. If you believe we need to act for the good of Rome, we should.”
I didn’t trust my own judgement—not really—but I was honored nonetheless.
“Thank you, centurion.”
“Legate.” He could see I was conflicted and waited until I met his gaze. “Trust your instincts. Rome has asked you to act in her best interests. You know how to do so.”
“And the men would follow?” I asked.
He smiled. “Into Pluto’s arse.”
They didn’t know why, but they listened when I ordered them into tight formation. Herennius took the lead and shouted orders for anyone in front of us to make way. We quickened the pace and dancers and drinkers jumped out of our path.
“Where again?” Herennius asked over his shoulder.
“It’s a big rock beneath the Acropolis,” I said, knowing he wouldn’t recall the name. He nodded and shouted at partygoers again.
My heart raced but I felt weightless, my chest tingling and stomach fluttering. A sensation often preceding battle. I relished it. I became more aware of the gladius bouncing at my hip. The ache in the heels of my feet disappeared. My shoulder bore the weight of my lorica easily. I had craved this. Action. I was done listening and waiting.
Torches began to light on the side of the streets. I could tell more wine was being consumed the further the sun set as the cheers of festivities engulfed us from all sides.
I feared something might happen in the agora, and I’d be held responsible. But I no longer cared. I wanted to see this Hyrkanos as much as I wanted to see Arrea. I wanted answers.
Herennius signaled for a halt as we reached the foot of the massive limestone hill. “This it?”
“This is Ares’ Hill.” I scanned the area and found only one building fitting Patrobos’ description.
Two guards were placed before it, and they looked like the kind of scum one would expect to make a living in slavery.
Some of the men whispered behind me about what we were doing. Castor was as perplexed as the rest of them but was mostly struggling to catch his breath.
“Legionaries,” I said, turning to them. “those within this building have threatened Rome. I cannot disclose any more information. But will you go with me?”
“Yes, legate!” They slammed their shields into the ground, frightening the locals.
“If they lay down their arms, we’ll simply talk to them. If a blade is drawn on us, we’ll draw first blood. Understood?”
They stamped their shields again.
I stepped off.
“On the legate, lads!” Herennius shouted and lifted his shield, in his element as much as ever.
As we neared, the guards scurried to their feet and grabbed at the hilts of their swords.
“What’s yer busine
ss?” one shouted.
A murder of crows burst from the hilltop above us, causing everyone to jump.
“Stand down,” I said in Greek.
Their eyes darted about as they counted our numbers.
“You’ve got the wrong place,” the other guard said. “We operate legally and all that.” His Greek was no better than mine.
“I don’t think so. Open the doors.”
“Not gonna happen. We’s told no one can enter during the festival.”
“I am Rome, boy,” I said, squaring to the man and close enough to feel his breath.
The guard looked for help from his friend, his lips quivering.
“Don’t try it.” I gestured to the other, sensing his grip was tightening on a sword hilt, although I could not see it with my bad eye.
“We just can’t let you go in,” the other pleaded.
“You’ve no need to fear your employer. He will be the one afraid.”
The guard stuttered “But, sir, Hyrka… he’s gone to the festival. He should—”
I lost my patience and threw the one man aside. I lifted my leg and kicked the door in. The ground beneath me shook as the men rushed to my side.
“Two ranks, stand guard,” Herennius said.
“Hyrkanos! Show your face!” I shouted. What if he ran a legitimate—although seedy—business, and had nothing to do with the disappearing Romans? Didius would be furious. The thought flashed before my mind, but I quickly disregarded it. Too late now. “Hyrkanos!”
I lowered my head to continue into the dark building. A tomb-like stench filled my nostrils. On either side of the hallway were caged rooms, and I could make out shadowy figures on the floor within. No one spoke, but some moaned, and I heard the buzzing of flies.
Herennius and I approached one of the cages and peered within. What little light was available to us illuminated several boney, naked bodies, huddled together. Water dripped incessantly from the ceiling. A mound of human excrement lay at the opposite side of the room.
This wasn’t anything like the cages of the slave markets, which were kept relatively clean. These wretched creatures were not the well-fed and bathed slaves of the market, trying to catch the best price. This was the underbelly of the world, the closest we can come to Hades this side of the River Styx.
Whom Gods Destroy: A Novel of Ancient Rome (The Sertorius Scrolls Book 4) Page 9