“They’d find no shortage of enemies, I’m certain. But truly, how much havoc can be wreaked by a few rebels in the shadows?” he asked.
He turned his gaze to the stars once more as the hypnotic chant of the cicadas seemed to heighten. “Wasn’t it rebels in the shadows that freed Rome from her kings?”
“If you are so frightened of them, why would you continue to work with us?” I asked, feeling anger rising in me for no apparent reason.
“The length of life’s thread is already determined. The Fates decided long ago when each would be severed.” He formed a knife with his hand and cut through the imaginary cord. “Even Zeus bows to their dictates. If he does, then so should Timo.”
I said nothing but looked up to analyze the stars Timo found so interesting.
“But I’ll say this,” he said, interrupting my contemplation. “Timo is afraid of nothing. But Cerberus makes me shake in my sandals. If that tells you nothing, my words will not convince you either.”
“Thank you, Timo.”
“Do not thank me, my boy. I might have just cost you your life.”
Scroll XI
I did as any reasonable man would. When I returned, I immediately consulted my advisors. Apollonius led me to a tavern he vowed was the finest in Attika, and Lucius soon joined us.
Some of the tavern patrons sang drinking songs, the others played knuckle bones. I made sure to notice each of them. I assessed their clothing, their speech, their eyes. The level of intoxication was important too, because I needed to know how closely they might be listening in. Timoxenos’s words made me paranoid, so I couldn’t be too certain.
“So much intrigue I feel like you’re planning to go spy on some barbarians again,” Lucius said with a smile as he sat down beside us, three cups of wine balanced in his hands.
“No intrigue. I just want to talk,” I said, half-honestly.
“Well, that’s a shame,” he said. “I’m beginning to grow bored of this campaign.”
“Bored? How could you be bored?” Aulus appeared in the doorway and clapped each of us on the shoulder. “We have friends, time enough for wine and song, and no women to give us a fuss. Speaking of women… Apollonius, does this tavern have any… you know.” Aulus’ grin was glowing as he joined us.
“No, it does not. This is not that type of establishment, Aulus. And if I had known you were coming I would have chosen somewhere less reputable,” Apollonius said, a poorly concealed smirk giving him away.
“Where is your brother, Aulus?” I asked. “Is he not joining us also?”
Aulus looked between myself, Lucius, and Apollonius. He furrowed his brow and leaned on the edge of the table. His eyes watered. “You aren’t serious?”
I was utterly perplexed.
“Yes? Yes. Is he joining us or not?”
He crossed his arms and cleared his throat. I believe his lips quivered. “Quintus,” he whispered, “Spurius has been dead for three years.”
The room seemed to shrink around me. I nearly fell from my chair.
Then he burst into laughter. “You turned redder than a Nursian turnip! You see that, Lucius? Old man? His other eye nearly burst out of his head!” Aulus bellowed as I punched at his rib cage. “He’ll be here any time. Busy writing a letter to his precious wife, as usual.”
I didn’t find the joke funny until my heartbeat slowed, and by that time Spurius had joined us and bought another round of wine for the table.
“Gentlemen, there are a few things we need to talk about before we get too drunk,” I said, interrupting the jokes and storytelling that had already begun.
“You bastard. You speak of me and I know it,” Aulus said as he wiped a bead of wine from his chin.
“I’m serious,” I said.
He sobered and ran a hand through his golden hair. “Sorry, legate. Proceed,” he said, and for once I believed him to be serious.
“First, I have some news for my dear friend, Apollonius.” All eyes turned to my Greek friend as his breathing quickened. Hope filled his eyes, but he had hoped for so long there was doubt there also. I prepared myself for the tears that were sure to come. “Apollonius, I know where Anaiah is. The slaver Hyrkanos gave us a location. We’re going to bring her back, my friend.”
We each stood to clap him on the shoulder and kissed his head as he attempted to process it.
His lips parted as if he would speak, but he said nothing. His eyes stared blankly at the wine-stained table before us, not with relief and joy but with confusion as if he’d be posed with a riddle. “Where?” he managed to say, barely audible over the roars of applause at a good dice roll in the back of the tavern.
“Delphi. And the moment I have a day’s leave I’ll be riding there myself to bring her home. And you can come with me.” I lifted my cup, and everyone did the same. Except Apollonius.
“Hyrkanos was his name. He is who enslaved us,” he said, almost to himself. He tapped a trembling finger against his lip, deep in thought.
“Then we have every reason to trust this intelligence,” I said, disappointed in his response.
“But that’s been years now. She could have been sold again. Or the owners could have moved. Or she could have…”
They patted his shoulder again, but this time more out of sympathy than excitement. I thought about pressing on the matter, but I decided to give him a moment to process it. I believed it in my heart we would find her. I wouldn’t stop until we did. His faith in that was irrelevant. All that mattered was her freedom and their reunion.
“The rest of what we need to discuss cannot leave this table.” I scooted closer.
Lucius said, “Excellent, we have some intrigue after all.” He licked his lips.
“I mean it. It could cost lives. Namely our own,” I said as he acknowledged his understanding. “There is an organization here in Greece that is working in some manifestation to bring about Rome’s destruction.” I ensured my voice was only loud enough for the table to hear.
They deferred to one another to respond, but none of them seemed to want to.
Lucius conceded and said, “Quintus, I would assume there are groups of fools all throughout the Republic that seek our downfall.”
And for a moment I imagined sitting in their seats and hearing about this. I couldn’t blame them for thinking I was losing my wits. The doubt ran through my own mind for a moment as well. Was this just the hidden scars of too long at war? No. I hadn’t dreamt it all. This wasn’t like the lady and the tree.
“That’s the problem, Lucius,” I said. “Independently they can do nothing, but if they can all unite forces they can pose a real threat to Rome.”
“How could they expect to do so?” Spurius said, doing his best to not patronize me.
“I don’t know the answer to that any more than you do. But I’ve spoken with individuals who know more than we do. And this shadow enemy calls themselves… Cerberus.” Again I realized how outlandish it all must seem.
“Cerberus?” Aulus said, but I cut him off by gesturing frantically for him to keep his voice down.
“Yes. They are responsible for Roman citizens in Greece being enslaved. I was told specifically that they’re making alliances with enemies of Rome from Spain to Parthia.” I sighed. They weren’t believing me. “If rebellions were to strike up across the Republic, we would be powerless to stop them all.”
I leaned back in my chair and allowed an uncomfortable silence to settle in. Each of them considered my words, save Apollonius who hadn’t heard a word since we spoke of his niece.
“Quintus.” Lucius placed a hand on my arm. I could tell he was struggling to say something uncomfortable. “I know nothing of which you speak. Grand conspiracy is above my level of intelligence. I’m a simple soldier. Show me an enemy and I’ll conquer him, point and I’ll go. I know nothing of this, but I trust your judgement. If you believe all that you say, I do too.”
“That’s right,” Aulus said.
“Just tell us what to do,” S
purius said.
I choked up with relief. Why should I have ever doubted them? But then I was left with the uncomfortable question: what do we do? And to be honest, I hadn’t really considered the answer. As long as Didius refused to believe me, our capacity to act was limited.
“Sertorius?” Lucius asked, reminding me how long they’d been waiting on my response.
“Yes…” I stalled for time. How does one fight a faceless enemy? One that does not wear a uniform, or have a flag? “We keep our sword arm strong, and at the ready. We remain vigilant. And we keep our eyes and ears open. Nothing can go unnoticed. And when the time is right… we strike.”
Scroll XII
Before we knew it the October Horse was upon us and the war season was over. We would have begun packing our things and preparing for the voyage back to Rome, but Didius was able to convince the Senate and People of Rome to vote for us to stay. Despite his doubt, and despite my desires to return home, he used the murmurs of sedition as reason enough for our campaign to continue.
If only Arrea knew it was my own doing that kept me from returning to her. I could imagine the famous fury of a Gallic woman would have been on full display.
About this time that I received my first letter from her. To my surprise, correspondence was far slower to reach us in Greece than when I’d been in Gaul, as letters have a habit of disappearing as they cross the sea.
“I imagine this is from a loved one. It’s scented with perfume,” Niarchos said, peaking into my quarters and extending the folded scroll. The smile on his face revealed he understood my anxiety, and quickly departed so I could read it in private.
My dearest husband,
Nearly a year has passed since you left us. Occasionally it feels as if you’ve been gone a lifetime. Occasionally it feels as if you just left my side.
Our bed remains cold without you beside me, despite the festering heat of city life, which I am still unaccustomed.
Your son is growing like a wheat stalk in spring, and I swear it he looks more like you each day. It’s as if the gods knew he would be yours one day and ensured he looked the part. His smile reminds me of yours, enough to keep the image of your face fresh in my mind. But it becomes more blurred each day. O, how I long for your return.
Rhea is visiting often, and we’ve been visiting her. She continues to teach me the basics of reading and writing. I still have much to learn, so it is by her hand that this letter is written.
Quintus—this line is from your mother—I insist that you write me soon. I am your mother. You know, the one from whom you came. I am creating a list of chores for you upon your return, and each day I don’t receive a letter, the list grows longer. I jest, but I miss you dearly, my boy.
Your mother is convinced that your loyal steed, Sura, misses you more than any of us. She has been pouting and cranky since the day you left and refuses to listen to anyone. And yes, we know she’s deaf. Still, she’ll only obey Gavius and we must assume his resemblance to you is the only reason why. I believe you’ll have to let Sura sleep in the Domus for a few weeks after your return to make it up to her.
Rome is quiet without you, my love. Rome is quiet in general, if you can believe it. Every few weeks a new trial is brought against the former associates of Saturninus and Glaucia, and generally the accused are being persecuted and exiled. A few have been executed. I know this must sadden you but assume you would want to know.
There is so much else I would say to you, husband. Some of which would be inappropriate for your mother’s hand to write. So I will finish and seal this now. Please, write me soon. Visit soon. Come home soon.
Your dove,
Arrea
On the back, Gavius attempted to write something as well, and to my surprise it was legible even with the numerous mistakes:
Father,
I am keeping mother and grandmat grandmother safe. You would be proud. When they don’t have me helping around the home or grandmother’s farm, I train with your bow and your old sword. I am becoming quite proficient. Perhaps next war season I could visit you. If I could prove my meda mettle and my prowess in battle, perhaps the legions would ask me to stay on?
Otherwise, I need you to return soon. Too many women around, not enough men. It’s not good for a young man. I even miss old Appalo Apollonius and his constant blathering. If I’m forced to keep my present company for much longer I’m afraid I’ll begin plucking a lyre and wearing a wig.
For the Republic,
Gavius Sertorius, son of Quintus Sertorius
Not until I rolled up the scroll and set it aside that I realized I was weeping. I could hear every word as if Arrea’s gentle voice whispered it in my ears. I could see Gavius as clearly as the crisp, cool morning when I taught him how to properly draw back his bow.
The scrolls did indeed smell like Arrea’s perfume. The scent filled me with warmth and longing. My stomach churned and turmoil enveloped my mind. The conspiracy I was pursuing was keeping me from them. But it was for them that I did it all. What if these enemies of Rome were successful, and something happened to my family? I couldn’t allow it. Even if it meant I never saw them again.
“Quintus?” Niarchos peered in again. I quickly dried my eye. “I apologize. I’ve been called for heliast duty, a homicide case that will certainly result in conviction.”
“That sounds like a great honor,” I said, ensuring my voice was deep and didn’t crack.
“Not really. Every citizen can be called to serve in the jury. And it costs me a day’s work.” He shook his head. “Regardless, is there anything you need before I leave?”
“No, no. I’m quite all right.” I followed him into the courtyard where Apollonius was seated and reading over some old writings or another.
He’d attended the Libraries of Aristotle a few months prior and was ecstatic to borrow some of the writings he once transcribed. Today was his Sabbath day, which meant he would be in that exact spot for the rest of the day. So far, he’d said nothing about his niece.
Kirrha and Anthea were whispering and giggling with one another as they worked delicately on a loom.
“Well, I best be off then.” Niarchos departed and left me standing awkwardly in the middle of them all.
I approached the altar to Zeus Herkeios in the center of the garden and knelt before it. “I greet this day with gratitude for my life and the many blessings therein.” I broke off a piece of honey cake and rotated it over a candle until it caught fire. It filled the room with a sweet smell like incense as I continued my prayer.
“Quintus, I apologize again…” Niarchos said, reappearing.
“Have you missed us so much already?” Anthea jested, but she quickly sobered when she saw the stern Roman behind her husband.
“He met me at the door. He needs to speak with you.”
I recognized the man as one of Didius’ attendants. He was the sort of man who never smiled, but I knew immediately from the dark circles under his eyes and the flushed color of his face that something was wrong. “What has happened?”
He saluted. “I’ve been sent to collect you. Proconsul Titus Didius requests your presence immediately.”
“On what business?”
“I’m not at liberty to say, sir,” he said through clenched teeth.
“The Proconsul instructed me to muster on the fields for training this morning. If he has other intentions for my day, I need to know; so I can pass along instructions to my centurions,” I said. In reality I wanted to prepare myself for the whipping Didius had promised me if that was my fate.
He exhaled and his eyes glanced at each member present in the room, who all looked away and pretended they weren’t listening.
“To be forthright, sir. I don’t entirely know myself. A woman arrived at Kallias’ residence this morn. She was crying and hysterical. I do not know why, or who she is. But she requested you specifically by name.”
I felt everyone’s gaze slowly shift toward me. Nodding, I said, “Let me grab my swo
rd.”
I could hear crying as soon as I entered the priest’s home. I followed the sound to the garden, where I found Didius with his head bowed, rubbing at his temples. I assumed he wasn’t the type given to consoling a hysterical woman.
Behind him, Kallias held onto the weeping woman. She wore the black cloak of mourning, with the hood pulled low over her eyes.
“Sir.” I saluted. Didius simply stepped aside and gestured to the crying woman.
I knelt and waited for her to turn to me, and at first I didn’t recognize her. Phaidra’s red hair was gone, only patches of stubble remained between scrapes and cuts. The veins of her eyes were like red spiderwebs, all reaching out and clinging to the shimmering iris. Her black makeup was smeared and ran down her face with the stream of her tears.
“Phaidra, what has happened?” I said.
At the sound of my voice, she burst into tears again. Kallias released her and she threw herself into my arms. “They t… t… took my Timo!” she sobbed.
I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her head to my chest. I struggled for words and to remain composed myself. “Get her some water,” I said to anyone listening.
Didius said, “She won’t drink. She won’t eat. She won’t sleep. She says she’ll die before she satiates herself while her husband is missing and alone.” He exhaled deeply.
“Phaidra, look at me.” I pulled her chin up delicately. “We need you to tell us everything that’s happened. We need you to stay strong and think clearly about the details. And then we will do everything we can to find him.”
She stifled further sobs and straightened, remembering the grace and nobility she radiated when we first met. “We received a menacing letter. I opened it first and panicked when I saw it, but Timo said we had received the like before. It said he would be sacrificed to Hades for betraying his people.” The memory sent her spiraling into her own thoughts.
Whom Gods Destroy: A Novel of Ancient Rome (The Sertorius Scrolls Book 4) Page 11