Swords of Rome

by Christopher Lee Buckner

  “What is it?”

  “Their leader — the leader of the gladiators, his name is Calfax. I knew him…well, not personally, but I knew of him…He killed Antony.”

  “You friend?”

  “Yes. He killed him at Cannae, and when I found out that it was Calfax that had done it, I acted without thinking, putting not just my life at risk, but everyone’s — the whole mission. It was my fault. I fought him when I should not have, and lost. Calfax is not among the dead or captive. He is still out there — somewhere…I should have — ”

  “Enough!” Valerius blurted out, not angrily, but loud enough that it forced Gaius to snap back to the here and now, and not dwell in the memories of what happened hours ago.

  “You made a mistake. You allowed your emotions to get the better of you, and yes you could have cost us our victory.” Valerius smiled even though it hurt him to do so. He knew he was just as reckless, last night, and in his youth, and it had cost him a great deal. “But we did not fail and there are men out there that are alive because you acted when you did. The slaves are broken, and even if this Calfax is still breathing, he is no longer a threat to Rome or its people.”

  “We do not know that,” Gaius added.

  “No, I suppose we do not. Nevertheless, what is done is done. Learn from your mistakes and pray to the gods that they might look after the souls lost because of it. All you — we, can do is move on. Rome is in need of us. And right now, you have to get these men back to our city, if we are going to defend her while we still have a city to get back to. Do you understand?”

  Gaius stood taller.

  “You’re orders, General?”

  “Break camp and regroup with the column. We have to reach Rome before Hannibal does, or both the city, and we will be caught out in the cold with our asses hanging in the air.”

  “I won’t allow that to happen. Not ever.” Gaius saluted Valerius, who just grinned as his young officer turned and left him.

  Outside, the doctor was waiting. Right away, Gaius recognized the grim look on his face. He knew he was going to bear bad news.

  “How bad is he?” Gaius asked, speaking first. The silence would have just killed him.

  “Not good, I’m afraid. I’ve removed the majority of the splinters, but more than a few fragments are still lodged. They aren’t what concern me, however. I was unable to remove a large piece of the arrow head.”

  Gaius gasp as the doctor paused and allowed his words to sink in.

  “I’m sorry. But when he fell from his horse during the battle, he accidentally pushed the arrow deeper into his chest, too far for me to remove it without killing him.”

  “What, will happen to him?”

  “Infection will set. His blood will be poisoned, and then he will run a temperature. Eventually, the fever will kill him.”

  “How long before that happens?”

  “It is hard to say. I’ve seen men live days, even weeks. It will depend on how strong he is. Nevertheless, in the end, it will kill him. I’m sorry. I know how close you two are.”

  Gaius was silent for a moment as the doctor’s words sank in. Again, he found himself forced to hold back his emotions, but every fiber of his being wanted to break down. First his father, then Antony, and now Valerius; he just didn’t know how much more he could take.

  “Does he know?”

  “Of course, but he won’t show how it is affecting him. He’s as tough as they come. I will do what I can to keep him comfortable, but his fate is in the hands of the gods now, and I don’t think they have much mercy for our people, not these days, any ways."”

  “Thank you, doctor. I won’t keep you any longer from your duties. Prepare your patients. We will be moving within the hour.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  As the doctor left, Gaius had to rest against one of the poles that supported Valerius’ tent, to collect his thoughts. He couldn’t, not now, not when there was too much to do, allow his emotions to get the better of him. So, he took a deep breath, straightened himself, and continued onward. His work in the coming days would have to sustain him. When it was done, perhaps afterwards, and only then, would he allow himself the time he needed to grieve.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  There was a heavy fog that hung over the city as Gaius looked upon Rome and its outer walls. He stood along one of the many hills that dominated the surrounding countryside, staring with interest through the solid haze, trying to catch sight of anything that might seem out of the ordinary. He half expected to see the city surrounded by Hannibal’s army when the high walls first came into view. However, here and now, four days since the battle with the gladiator army, and nearly two full weeks since Cannae, he saw nothing, or no one, literally.

  Typically, during this time of the year, the roads that led into the city would have been packed with people, carts and wagons bringing with them all sorts of good from around the Republic. Despite the war, commerce continued, but Gaius saw nothing, save for the wet and empty roads in all directions. Even the river and ports were devoid of any traffic.

  He sent scouts in all directions, and when they first reported back to him hours ago that they saw no sign of Hannibal’s army, he sent out more and told them to go further, and find any signs that his army was here, or had been.

  He simply couldn’t trust his eyes. The banners of the city-watch were still hung high over the walls, indicating Rome controlled its own walls. However, he couldn’t trust that either. As far as he knew, with no army, save for the city guards, which were only good at keeping the peace on the streets, not fighting wars, the city fathers could have turned Rome over to Hannibal instead of waiting out a prolonged siege. He found that hard to accept, but anything was possible, and the all clear signs on the walls could merely be a trap to lure in what remained of Rome’s armies.

  Finally, after nearly an hour one of the riders he had sent to the city came racing back towards his direction. It was Avitus, Gaius could see. A few minutes later he was with him and quickly began to relay what the city guards had told him.

  “The city is clear and still in our hands,” Avitus began to say the second his horse stopped. “We still control the city from what I’ve been told, but there are only a few thousand guards along the walls. They are stretched to the limit. And were they glad to see us.”

  “What of Hannibal?” Gaius asked. He was still concerned about marching his men into Rome. With thousands of soldiers, wagons, supplies, and hundreds more wounded men from Cannae and the gladiator camp, it would take him hours to get the whole column into city. The last thing he wanted was to be caught between an approaching Carthaginian army and Rome’s outer walls.

  “They said they've seen nothing of him. A few scouts here and there, but no army within miles of Rome.”

  “Nothing?” Gaius asked shockingly.

  “Yes, sir, nothing — in fact, no one seems to know where Hannibal is right now.”

  “General!” Another soldier called from behind Gaius. It took him a moment to realize that it was he that was being addressed. With Valerius off of his feet, the legion and its survivors fell to him, so his men addressed him accordingly. He wondered if the title, if he should be allowed to keep it, would ever fit right on him.

  “Soldier?”

  “Consul Paullus, he would like to speak with you, sir.”

  “Very well. Tell him I will be with him momentarily.”

  The trooper nodded and saluted, then turned and raced back towards the main column.

  “Return to the city and inform the watch captain that I will be brining in our men, through the east gate. Tell him to have a list of needed watch-posts, so I can get our men on the walls the second we are in the city,” Gaius commanded Avitus, who too saluted with a quick and eager, “Yes, sir, General,” before he turned his horse and trotted back down the paved road and disappeared a moment later into the thick haze.

  Gaius walked through the long formation of his army. He was among the wagons and cart
s that carried the legion’s supplies, as well as the wounded, sick and injured. Paullus’ wagon, which was draped so to protect the consul from the elements, was in sight. Right away, Gaius saw Claudia standing outside the wagon. She smiled the moment she saw him.

  He had come to welcome her pleasant greetings whenever the two met over the past four days. She was lovely and had caring eyes. Her long brown hair signaling her Greek heritage was pulled in a pony tail, still matted and dirty from her ordeal. Her clothing, a lengthy drab dress was stained with blood, most of it from the consular as she tended to him after Cannae.

  Gaius admired her loyalty and devotion to Paullus. She could have abandoned him weeks ago, or could have joined Calfax and his other freed slaves, but she had remained and nursed Paullus during the worst of times.

  “General,” she greeted Gaius warmly.

  “You choose to walk and not ride inside with the consul?” Gaius asked as he stepped up to her and accepted her warm reception with his own wide smile.

  “Oh, I’ve been stuck in there for days. I needed to stretch my legs. Besides, I’m eager to see Rome once more."” She ran her hand through her hair, seemly a bit vain about her appearance before she spoke once again. “Is it true that Hannibal isn’t anywhere near here? I’ve heard rumors among your men.”

  “It would seem. Nevertheless, I still have men out there making sure that he isn’t near to us. Regardless, be ready to move quickly once the order is given. Now, is the consul free to speak to me?”

  “He is. Even so, do try to keep it short. While he would not act like it, he is still in a lot of pain and very weak.”

  “I promise to make it quick. And, I’m sure with your loving care the consul’s recovery will continue.”

  Claudia blushed as Gaius walked past her and over to the rear of the wagon that carried Paullus. Two guards stood, ever vigilant outside. Each stepped aside as Gaius pulled himself inside.

  Paullus lay on a floor of the wagon, covered with several thick blankets. He was awake and was seemly reading over a stack of clay tablet; each one, the various reports from the quartermaster and cohort centurions about the status of the legion.

  Gaius would have preferred that the consul rest since he had regained consciousness and his fever broke two days ago, but Paullus needed to keep himself busy and feel like he could contribute something to this ragged army. While the law dictated that Paullus could have taken command of the legion, even in his current state, not once had he made such a request. He allowed Gaius to make all the decisions, despite that he knew Valerius was no longer fit for command. The consul just wanted to be brought up to speed on what had been happening over the past two weeks, nothing more.

  A part of Gaius was thankful. While he did not want the command of the Sixth like this, the thought of another man, other than Valerius giving the orders, was strange and unwelcome.

  Paullus managed a smile, or as best he could when he saw Gaius. His face was still badly bruised as large purple welts had formed over the cuts to his forehead and cheeks. One eye was totally shut, and fresh cuts above it indicate that the legion doctor had been bleeding him, so to lessen the swelling before it risked his eye. The other cuts upon his body had already been stitched up, but the consul still had very little feeling in his legs and feet, and his left arm was nearly useless. He may never regain its use again, or so he was told.

  Gaius could see in his one good eye that Paullus was in a lot of pain, but he had insisted that most of the medicine be used for those soldiers worse off than he, so he endured as best he could and tried to keep his mind active.

  “General,” Paullus said, still being formal despite his more relaxed attitude he, for some reason, tended to show around Gaius. He was in the field, so Paullus kept his soldierly manner raised until everyone was in the city and safe. “I’ve been told that your men have not found any traces of Hannibal or his barbarian allies.”

  “It is true, sir. And we’ve made contact with the city guards. They’ve confirmed as much.”

  “Next I assume you will be marching the legion into the city and take up defensive positions along the wall?”

  Gaius noticed that Paullus didn’t make it an order, but addressed his words as a question. He was still very new to this, given so much responsibility over so many lives. Paullus certainly knew this, but seemed to trust him to do what needed to be done without having to state the obvious.

  “I will be, sir.”

  “Good. You must ensure that our march into the city is done quickly, but calmly. We cannot afford to be caught between the city walls and Hannibal, if he should show up.”

  “Of course; I’ve already begun preparations, even as we speak.”

  “You’ll also want to meet with the Senate as soon as possible. You may represent me in my stay. When I am set in my estate and capable, I will receive them. But until then, I will be placing you in command of the soldiers inside the city, and those that are already under your authority.”

  “Sir, is that wise? I am not a knight or a member of the senate. Certainly, an older and wiser officer should take command of Rome’s defenses.” Gaius was humbled and troubled at the same time by Paullus’ command that it should be he that carries out Rome’s defense.

  “Do you feel that you are not up to the task, Gaius?” Paullus asked as he raised himself up a bit on his elbows.

  “No, sir, I am more than ready, if that is your orders.”

  “It is.”

  “Some might argue this,” Gaius added.

  “Not with this.” Paullus reached, squinting in pain, which nearly caused Gaius to step over to him and help, but he held back as the older man grabbed a sealed roll.

  “If anyone, and there will be more than a few that will give you trouble about you taking command of the city’s defenses, show them this. The Senate will back it up.” Paullus handed the document over to Gaius, who took it and carefully stared down at Paullus’ crest, which had been sealed in wax.

  “My orders are in writing. No one will dare to cross you, not until the threat has passed.”

  “Yes, sir. I won’t let you down, sir.”

  “Very good. I won’t keep you from your duties any longer. You are dismissed.”

  “Consul,” Gaius nodded and was about to turn and leave Paullus, but he quickly called Gaius again, low and barely auditable.

  “Sir?” Gaius had the feeling since he first came that Paullus hadn’t summoned him just for a report or to give him some last minute orders.

  “Will you go see her, Julia, when we are back in the city?” Paullus asked.

  Gaius hesitated for a moment. He had thought about little else over the past few days when he had a moment to his own thoughts.

  “I–I doubt I will be able to for some time. I must see to the city’s defense and coordinate with whatever officers remain within Rome,” Gaius answered, speaking the truth, but also knowing he was avoiding the fact that he didn’t want to face her, not just yet.

  “I understand. I…” Paullus paused again, “Don’t think I could see her right now either. Not like this. Not after everything…”

  “I understand, sir,” Gaius replied as Paullus turned his head away from him, seemly more frail and weaker than ever.

  It pained him greatly to see the man as he was, broken and beaten. He could see in Paullus’ eyes the weight and guilt he carried on his shoulders. He lost the army, his army. Death might have spared him the torment of knowing that. But he had lived when so many tens of thousands had not.

  Neither man said more as Gaius turned and left, leaving Paullus alone with his own doubts and painful thoughts.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Gaius walked through the gates of Rome four times in his life. Twice it was jubilant; the city was new to him and full of wonders. He thought he could have lost himself. But now, like before, after the defeats at Trebia and Trasimene, the city was foreign to him — a ghost of brick and marble. Those few thousand city guards who had remained behind, tho
se that had not abandoned their posts and fled with their families had long faces and tired eyes. The return of the Sixth Legion and the survivors of Cannae were not enough to give them hope, as the column of soldiers marched through the gates in the pouring rain.

  Gaius tried as best he could monitor the long march into the city. He had sent one cohorts in first so that they could take positions along the walls, while leaving the last two outside to protect the rear. He set up an unbroken chain of communications, starting five miles beyond the city limits, to his current position. If even a hare was spotted, he would know of it within ten minutes. The walking wounded, sick and wounded were then allowed into the city once he was certain he had set up a strong defense. He made sure that his prisoners were brought into the city through a different gate. He couldn’t afford to have them making any trouble, or more so, the Roman guards wanting to exact their built-up aggressions and fears on those men, not until each had been debriefed for whatever information they could reveal.

  After, Gaius assumed that all of them would be tortured and then crucified — placed outside the city walls as a warning to any future slave who may think of siding with Hannibal. Unfortunately, while Gaius would have preferred to have stayed with his men until every last one of them was safely inside the city walls, he had been hounded continuously by officers and aids to the Senate. Their questions were endless and asked with such frequency that he barely had time to answer one before another was asked.

  Always the questions were the same: Where was Valerius? Where was Paullus? What of co-consul, Varro — did he survive as well? Who was in command of the Sixth? When the various officers finally accepted the realization of the truth, their concerns were more relaxed. They wanted to know how the Sixth had survived Cannae. Had they encountered Hannibal or knew of his whereabouts? What of the gladiator army? Was it still a threat? The questions continued for hours without pause.

  Between the interrogation, Gaius had some of his own questions answered. He learned that a few thousand men had survived Cannae, and had managed to make it back to Rome over the past two weeks. However, most of those men had since deserted, gathering their families and meager possessions and fled, along with a full two quarters of Rome’s population. Those that remain were placed along the walls, and what was left of the civilian population, mostly the young and old, were drafted or had volunteered to defend the city. They were given what training they could, and then placed on the walls. Even if they could not fight, it was hoped that with enough numbers, if Hannibal and his army should come, he would think twice about directly attacking Rome.