Swords of Rome

by Christopher Lee Buckner

  With one powerful thrust, the deed was done as the spear tip burst through the animal’s eye socket, rupturing through its iris, and tearing all the way into the elephant’s brain. A fraction of a second later the animal stopped moving.

  One of the lead hunters ordered his men to begin harvesting the elephant’s meat, which could still be used, and another group to remove the long tusks, which could be sold.

  Other cries of agony also carried over the battlefield, but they weren’t ended with as much care or concern as Hannibal watched his Celtic allies, perhaps too eagerly, walk among the wounded Romans, torturing them by hacking off limps, appendages, or gentile while the men attached to them were still breathing. The already dead were plundered of any wealth they might have carried: iron, coins or trinkets were prized among the barbarians.

  Hannibal detested the methods of his allies. His enemies, even if they were the despised Romans, deserved better treatment — a quick end with a spear through the heart than the sadistic pleasure the northern tribes took in murdering their continental neighbors. However, Hannibal wouldn’t dare say a thing. While he would never allow his Carthaginian warriors to act as the Gauls, he needed the barbarians more than he cared to admit. They only joined his crusade at the promise of treasure, glory and blood. Without them, this war would end before he ever came within view of Rome’s city walls.

  Regardless, Hannibal expected more from Rome. The battle that followed his crossing of the Alps was not what he expected or had heard of from his father’s stories, of the bravery, cunning and skillful art of warfare and famous Roman discipline that won them many battle in the past, including the war with his mother country, Carthage many decades earlier.

  His opponent, Hannibal knew was more capable than this. Co-Consul of Rome, Scipio the Elder was already renowned for past glories against Carthage, pirates and rebellions across the Republic. Even so, and with great disappointment, a stray arrow, fired from afar struck the consul in the early minutes of the battle. With Scipio out of action, the Romans soon lost heart as their officers, outnumbered were subsequently overwhelmed. What followed would be utter slaughter.

  Scipio’s body hadn’t been found, and Hannibal doubted it would be. Early reports told him that the general was taken by his son, who shared the same name, off the battlefield and was now heading back to Rome. The body of a consul of Rome could have gone a long way to bolster Hannibal’s ranks, no less the moral of his tired and hungry men. Regardless, he knew this victory would do for the meantime. He was now footed in Italy, and soon Rome would know that they had underestimated him.

  More would come — legions upon legions would be sent against the invaders. Hannibal knew he would soon be outnumbered, and more than likely many of his barbarian allies would run and return to their homes, once their thirst for blood had been satisfied and their backs loaded with as much Roman gold they could carry. However, Hannibal did not fear what was to come. He did not set out on this campaign without considerable planning. This war was not one of shortsighted ambition. It would be long and grueling, and he would have to sacrifice everything if he was to achieve his ultimate goals in the end.

  Hannibal’s attention was turned as Braca, a trusted friend who commanded the Numidian cavalry rode towards him. He was a dependable friend, one now that Hannibal had to turn to as he had sent his brother Mago back to New Carthage to ensure that his supplies from Spain to Italy could not be cut.

  “My General,” Braca spoke as he pulled his horse alongside Hannibal. “My riders have been combing the Roman dead, but we have yet to find the body of Scipio among the fallen. I believe the Romans are taking him back to their city. At best, they might have several hours on us.”

  “And what about the consular’s staff?”

  Braca shook his head as he answered, “Taken from the field. Even so, we did find the pay chests. We could give pursuit for the staff if you wish.”

  Hannibal thought about the matter a moment longer, scratching the rough stubble on his chin as he took a drink from his water skin. He wanted the staff as much as he would have liked Scipio’s body. They meant nothing in terms of value, but the Romans and his allies, both were powerful symbols that he could use to rally more to his cause. However, with a heavy sigh, Hannibal knew what he must do.

  “Do not worry yourself longer. We have to consolidate our position here until the rest of our troops, and supplies come down from the mountain.”

  “And what of these…creatures?” Braca asked sarcastically as he glanced over his shoulder, directing his words toward the Gauls who looted and murdered the Roman dead and wounded; the wounded cries continued to carry over the battlefield as they were gutted alive.

  “I do not trust them. How do we know they won’t head back north, now that they have their victory over a Roman consul, and enough wealth to keep them drunk through the next two winters?”

  Hannibal took a deep breath. He pondered the same question for hours now. He knew the Gallic tribes weren’t dependable. They only joined him for glory and wealth, both of which he’d already brought them. Unfortunately, he needed them. While he loathed them more than the Romans, if they stood against him, it would be impossible for him to secure enough supplies from Spain to continue his campaign in Italy.

  “I suspect they will remain loyal, for the meantime. There are a number of settlements south of us, and more than a few of the chieftains have expressed interest in sacking them,” Hannibal answered.

  “And you agree with this? We will need Italian settlements to stand with us against Rome,” Braca’s words were like ice as his mistrust boiled through each word he uttered.

  “I do not have much of a choice, not at this moment,” Hannibal shot back. He wasn’t angry by Braca’s words, but at the realization of hard truths. His war was against Rome, not the Italian people, yet it was they who would suffer the most. It sickened Hannibal. Most of the northern settlements that would fall prey to his horde were once, a century ago part of greater Gaul, until the Republic came and conquered them, unifying all of Italy under Rome’s banner. Nevertheless, those barbarians with him did not see distant kin, but only weakness, a prey easily crushed and sacked for their unquenchable thirst for blood.

  “No, we must continue as planned,” Hannibal reiterated as he collected his wayward thoughts. “Ready your men. Once they’ve finished toying with the Romans, I will give the word to march to our next objective.”

  “As you command, my General,” Barca nodded before he turned his horse and began to trot off.

  “Barca!” Hannibal called out. The officer stopped and turned his head, “Steady your heart and mind, and remember why we are here. It will only get worse from this point forward.”

  With a heavy heart, Barca nodded his understanding and rode off.

  “Victory or defeat, I am set upon my course, “Hannibal uttered to himself as he turned his attention back to the battlefield. “Send me your legions, Rome…Send them all.”

  PART TWO

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Gaius lowered his head and allowed the sweet aroma of Julia’s scent to swirl around him, drawing him nearer to her as he took a deep breath, inhaling her essence. Julia was in his arms as they sat on the river’s edge, several miles west of Rome’s gates. A brisk, but tapered wind blew across the water’s edge as they sat, arm in arm, looking over the horizon, watching as the last vestiges of leaves fall from the surrounding trees.

  They had spent as much time together as they could over the past week; every free moment either could spare. They found any excuse, both real and fictional, to escape their duties before they found one another outside the city gates and venture out into the wilderness. There they would spend hours with each other until the sun went down, leaving promises for another day of passionate lovemaking and long quiet afternoons together.

  These were the best days of Gaius’ life. He never wanted them to end, and even though he knew that Julia’s pending marriage loomed, they refused to speak of it. Righ
t now, each day is a gift, and both wanted to appreciate it to the fullest.

  Julia ran her hand over Gaius’ arm, wrapped loosely around her shoulder and chest. She wore only a loose sheet, draped from her shoulders, hanging low. One hand was gently placed over the top of her right breast. She pressed herself nearer to his body, so that she may share his warmth.

  They said nothing to one another. They hardly had to speak to fill the endless hours. Each other’s touch, their smell and sight were all either needed or wanted. Both had, however, shared quite a lot about one another — stories told to no one else. They were living in the moment as only two young lovers could, with no thought of the future and the obligations that both had to Rome, family and the Senate. If they pretended hard enough, with the slow current of the moving water in front of them and the sounds of the calm wind against the bare branches of the trees, they could have lost themselves in time, as if they were the last two souls left on earth.

  Julia tilted her head back and stared up at Gaius for a moment. She raised her hand and rubbed her palm against the rough fuzz on his cheek, admiring the man he had become. However, beyond the robust body, a few scars and more hair, his eyes were as she remembered — proud, calm, strong and loving. When she looked up at him, she was taken back ten years when she was but a child. Then, as now, she looked at Gaius and saw courage and strength. She had always felt safe with him, and while one might cast off her affections for him as a child’s crush on an older boy, she knew, like she knew at the moment that her feelings for him were very real.

  Julia loved him, and that love had grown.

  Gaius knew without her having to say it. He could see the passion in her smile, in her endless gaze as she stared at him, and in her touch. He wondered if this was what it was like when his father had first seen his mother. He prayed to the gods that they give him the chance to give to Julia the same love and affection that his father showed to his mother, now years past.

  He knew, with her in his arms, he could do anything. However, he was a practical man. Julia was a dreamer; she always had been, while Gaius was stuck in the here and now. While he did not say it, when she looked at him like she was currently, when anything seemed possible, the truth of his reality caught up with him. It wasn’t enough for him to have her now — her body and her heart. He needed her like he needed to breath, and the thought that in a few months, another man would have her, nearly brought tears of rage to his eyes.

  “What troubles you?” Julia asked, as she could see the sudden shift in his expression, as faint as it was.

  She turned all the way around; the thin silk sheet falling off from her shoulders, revealing her naked body as she repositioned herself, now sitting in front of him as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

  Gaius lowered his hands and held Julia assertively by her waist, fixing her gaze into his.

  “Do I not make you happy, my love?” she asked with a sweet smile as she ran her hand through his close-cropped hair.

  “More than I have words for,” he answered, trying as hard as he could to hide his true thoughts. However, she was like an oracle, able to read his mind — knowing his darkest fears and lingering doubts.

  “You are concerned about Paullus? It is he that takes your thoughts from my loving embrace, isn’t it?”

  Gaius felt ashamed as he grabbed the sheet that lied on the grass, and tried to wrap it back around Julia. When he attempted, she pushed his efforts away.

  “Gaius,” she began. “I love you, and nothing or no one will ever come between us. Say the words and I will leave Rome and my father behind, to be with you. We can run, go elsewhere; to the south, onto Sicily, or to the east, toward Greece, perhaps even beyond, deeper into the Hellistic world. You only have to utter the words.” Her words were spoken with honesty and without concern.

  Gaius knew that if he should say the words, she would do as he wished without a second’s hesitation. Nevertheless, lingering doubts remained at the knowledge of taking her away, what it would mean for them when Varro hunted for them.

  The prospect of fleeing across the Republic, traveling to shores beyond their wildest imagination, it was exciting, even Gaius had to admit to himself. However, he knew it was a foolish dream of two very young and naive individuals in love.

  “Julia, the world doesn’t work that way. All because we desire it, that doesn’t mean we can just get up and leave everything behind. Your father and Paullus would track us to the ends of the earth. And I couldn’t betray Antony’s friendship either,” Gaius spoke with a painful heart, more so at the sudden sadness that crept through Julia’s eyes.

  “My brother knows what you mean to me. I do not hide my secrets from him, Gaius.” She tried to fight his argument, but could see right away that there was no changing his mind.

  “Even so — “Gaius turned his head, afraid to speak what he had been thinking. “It does not change the reality of our situation. I am a soldier of the Republic, Julia. Do you know what that means to me?”

  She stared at him puzzled, but Gaius did not give her the chance to answer his question before he continued.

  “I took an oath to defend Rome with my life; to serve the Senate, and to lead those men under my care. That is not something that I can turn my back on, not for anyone, not even for you.”

  “Then do not turn against your oath,” Julia blurted out with frustration. She sat shivering in his arms, but not from the growing chill of the late evening, but in knowing what the result of their conversation would lead to.

  “Julia, I can’t love a married woman either.” Gaius’ words were like ice picks through her chest. “I can’t hide in the shadows and wait to steal you away when opportunity presents. If we were found out, it would be the death of both of us, literally.”

  Julia tried to speak again, to debunk what Gaius was saying, but he spoke sooner than she could.

  “And even if we aren’t discovered, in time, you will bear Paullus children. What place would I have then in your life? Do you think I would be low enough to still seek you — to tear your family apart?”

  “What are you saying, Gaius?” her words trailed off as tears formed in her eyes. She suddenly felt very exposed as she broke away from him and reached down, wrapping the sheet around her naked body.

  “I don’t know. I know that I won’t betray my oath, and I can’t stop loving you, but — “he struggled for words, desperately trying to find the right sentence that might ease her mind. He felt like he was betraying his love for her that she might believe that he loved her for her body, there was no other need for her. He hoped she didn’t feel so. He could never use her and just throw her away. Nevertheless, he was pulled between his honor and his passion for her.

  “I’m just…” he never got to finish his sentence when their attention was turned east, down the river and toward the bridge that led back to the city.

  There was a strange, distant noise which he recognized as the rhythmic marching of soldiers, followed by the trumpets of Scipio’s legion as they returned from the north.

  “The legion is back!” Gaius said enthusiastically as he stood to his feet.

  “This early?” Julia asked as she too stood to her feet, wrapping herself in the sheet as she stood next to Gaius.

  “Something is wrong,” he noted as the trumpet calls weren’t that of a victorious army, but a warning to any along the road to move aside and allow the legion to pass unimpaired. Even this far Gaius could hear that the marching was sporadic and ragged, not the orderly movement of a legion.

  “I have to see what is going on,” he said as he bent down and grabbed his clothes. Julia quickly did the same before the two headed back towards Rome.

  It did not take them long to reach the stone bridge that crossed over a narrow patch of the river, which led to the northern gate of the city. For the moment, the troubled conversation that he and Julia shared escaped their thoughts as both hurried along the river’s path. And then when the two saw the legion, both paused wi
th horrid looks as they witnessed the sorry state of the army.

  The soldiers who had been sent north to confront Hannibal were broken. Most of the men, marching in a loose formation, were dirtied, tired and bloodied, with blood-soaked bandages over their limbs and heads. Those that still carried weapons were slumped oddly over their shoulders or dragged along the stone-paved road without care, while their armor was a mixture of chain-mail, leather and tunic, all covered with week’s worth of mud and spackled with dried blood. Even the horses the officers rode seemed short of breath as many of them had deep gashes across their powerful bodies. The wounds had been hastily filled with mud so that the animals didn’t bleed to death, but a number still bled from their noses, indicating that their serious injuries were indeed taken its toll.

  A wagon-train followed the legion. The foul odor of the rotting bodies and congealed blood forced Julia to turn her head. The living that was too wounded to walk under their own strength had been forced to ride with the dead.

  As Gaius looked into the legionaries’ eyes, almost all of them as young as he, they stared dully out into space; more than a few clutched arms or legs that had been amputated after the battle.

  “Soldier!” Gaius called as he drew the attention of one young man who seemed no worse for wear beyond a few cuts to his face and arm. “Tell me what happened to your legion?”

  The soldier shifted his tired gaze over towards Gaius as he neared him, but did not break stride.

  “Hannibal, sir — the bastard cut us to pieces after we lost Scipio.”

  “What? The consul is dead?” Gaius asked as he kept pace with the young man.

  “Yes. He was killed quickly, before the first hour of the battle. Those left in command weren’t able to organize a proper defense. Hannibal tore through us with his damn elephants and cavalry, like we were cattle. It all fell apart after that.”

  “By the gods,” Gaius uttered to himself as he stopped, allowing Julia to catch up to him, as the surviving legionaries moved into the safety of the city.