by James Mace
Sacrovir regained his composure, lest he show his hand to the centurion. He turned his horse around and rode back towards his army. Across the plain, many of the Turani were unaware that they had been taken from behind and could not understand why, instead of retreating, they were being forced to surrender.
Calvinus then turned to his cornicen. “Sound recall,” he told the man. He then addressed the centurions of the First Cohort. “We will recover any dead and wounded we may have and retire to our barracks. Then we will wait and see what moves the rebels and Sacrovir make.”
Ellard did not know what to make of the chaos that erupted in front of him. Their part in the skirmish had been going well enough. He had even succeeded in skewering an unsuspecting Turani through the guts with his spear, when suddenly he spotted Roman standards behind their adversaries. Panic had engulfed the Turani as they were cut down in numbers by the legionaries. After the Romans stopped the attack, Ellard glanced at his companions. Radek seemed unconcerned, while Torin hung his head. Ellard decided to make use of the lull. He set his weapons down and started searching the dead in front of him.
Most of the men bore little except their weapons; however, he did find a small amulet around one man’s neck. He could not tell if the red stone or silver-like metal were valuable or not, but there was only one way to find out. He pulled out his dagger and started to cut the leather cord that bound the amulet to the slain man’s neck when a pair of hands shoved him hard from behind. He fell to the ground, the cord snapping in his hand. Ellard sprung to his feet, coming face to face with Torin, whose face was red with rage.
“How dare you plunder from these men!” he growled.
Ellard spat at him. “How dare I? Fuck you and your piety! If this is the only way for me to get anything out of this accursed affair, so be it!”
“You will not desecrate our people!” Torin shouted, leveling his spear at Ellard.
Radek stepped around behind him, his own spear coming between the two men. “Stand down, Torin,” he hissed.
Torin swallowed hard, yet he continued to glare at Ellard.
Ellard started laughing. “Look around you, Torin,” he exclaimed, waving his dagger in a sweeping motion behind him. “Our men are already plundering the dead. Are you going to stop all of them? The Romans strip the prisoners of their valuables. Are you going to tell them they cannot?” He walked up to Torin so that their faces were but inches from each other. “Or how about you go and tell them the entire plan? Shall we cut your throat in order to keep you quiet? The dead get plundered after a battle . . . get used to it! You want nothing to do with it, fine. Go and pretend that this is all for some noble purpose, but don’t piss on the rest of us!”
Torin lowered his spear, a tear starting to well up in his eye. He turned and walked away as Ellard continued to heckle him.
Radek placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Leave him be,” he said. “We have enough enemies as it is. Do not go and make any more, needlessly. Besides, if he doesn’t wish to take part in the plunder, it just means more for the rest of us.” With that, both men continued their search of the dead.
Felix stood trembling slightly, gazing down at the gladius in his hand. The blade was bloodied from where he had thrust it into the back of an unsuspecting rebel. He was awash with a mixture of feelings. He was partly ashamed for having stabbed the man in the back like a coward. Yet he also felt a feeling almost of exhilaration brought on by the sheer power he felt himself in control of; it was as if he had the power to play gods, to decide who should live and who should die.
“But you’re not a god, are you?” Artorius asked, startling the young legionary. He knew exactly how Spurius felt. He had felt the same way when he killed his first human being, though there had been no remorse, given the circumstances. Artorius’ first blood-letting had taken place during the campaigns against the Cherusci in Germania, a campaign of vengeance brought on by the disastrous battle of Teutoburger Wald, a disaster in which his beloved brother had perished.
“It is a strange feeling,” Felix answered. “I know not whether I should feel ecstatic or ashamed.”
“I suppose it is natural for one to feel both,” Artorius replied. “You have taken life, and it is instinctive to feel like we have done wrong. By the same token we feel ecstatic because we have survived; the enemy has fallen and not us. By killing those men, you may very well have saved the life of one of your companions. Unfortunately, those troubled feelings you get will always be there. I feel them myself after every battle. I also wonder how it is that I am still standing while others fell.”
“My fear is that I may grow to like it,” the legionary stated as he began cleaning the blood off his blade. “I find this to be both exhilarating and repugnant at the same time. Will it always be like this?”
Artorius nodded.
Felix let out a sigh. “Well, as long as the repugnance overwhelms the ecstasy, I’ll be alright.”
Night had long since fallen by the time Sacrovir made his way over to the makeshift holding pen that housed the prisoners. The moon shone through the wicker bars that prevented the defeated Gauls from escaping. As the guards opened the gate to allow Sacrovir in, Broehain, a leader of the Turani, looked upon him in disgust.
“I should have known that you would betray us to the Romans!” he spat.
Nearly half his men had been slain in what was supposed to be a minor skirmish to fool the Romans; the rest were imprisoned with him, caged like animals.
“Please, you misunderstand,” Sacrovir pleaded.
Broehain was immediately on his feet. “What is there to misunderstand? You allowed them to get behind and slaughter my men! More than four thousand now lay dead, the rest of us damned to rot in these cages! Shall I tell the Romans of your real intents? That you only wished to use us as sheep to be slaughtered in order to mask your own rebellion?” “Gods damn you, man, listen to me! The Romans acted on their own! They assured me they would not leave the ridgeline. It is I who has been betrayed.” Sacrovir hissed at the man, incensed at how his plan was disastrously thwarted. “But we’re going to change that.”
“You had better be right about this, Sacrovir,” Broehain warned. “Play us false again, and I will have your head myself!”
“The Romans have retired to their barracks,” Sacrovir explained. “It is my men who have you imprisoned, not theirs. Therefore, it is my men who will free you.”
Broehain was loath to trust the man after the horrific slaughter of his men, but it seemed the only way to free himself and his men. “You take quite the risk by freeing nearly six thousand prisoners of war. What is your price?”
“I will be sending you and some of your men with Florus to the east. Proceed to Augustodunum and link up with him. You will first rally the remnants of the Turani, and from there you will carry on to where an entire regiment of Treveri cavalry is stationed. Florus will undermine their loyalty to Rome and subvert them to our cause. When all of you have returned, we will exterminate any legionary forces that remain in the province.”
Broehain took a deep breath through his nose and stood erect. “It will be done,” he replied.
Sacrovir’s blunder had cost many of his men their lives. However, he was still the only means any of them had of attaining their freedom from Rome. As Sacrovir left the stockades, he saw Julius Indus waiting for him.
“I think you have gone completely mad,” Indus remarked as they walked back to where Sacrovir’s mount stood waiting to take him back to Augustodunum. “Centurion Calvinus will not like it, and he will be suspicious, what with you freeing all those men like that.”
“Centurion Calvinus is no longer of any concern to me,” Sacrovir replied, coolly. “My men have already fallen upon Augustodunum; the revolution has started in full. We have taken the sons of the province’s nobles as hostages, in assurance of their continued loyalty. I further intend to subvert those young men to our cause.”
“But surely the Rhine Legions will not let
this go on unchecked,” Indus retorted. “Yes, they only sent four cohorts, but that was before this rebellion turned into a full-scale revolution.”
Sacrovir turned and faced him. “You knew this day would come, Indus,” he said, his eyes boring into him. “If you really wish to prove your worth in this enterprise, you will accompany Florus to Augusta Raurica and help him to subvert your cavalry regiment that has conspicuously remained out of this conflict thus far. In fact, you will take Broehain with you tonight and link up with Florus.” Indus nodded in reply. “It will be done.” He waited until Sacrovir had ridden off before returning to find his own mount. He then rode off in haste, alone, and not in the direction of Julius Florus.
Chapter XI: Betrayal
***
Valens was the first to see the rider approaching. The section was posted on picket duty, with the purpose of providing early warning against enemy fugitives attempting to use the forest road paralleling the small fort. They took turns with two men awake, the rest asleep in full armor. Valens smacked Decimus on the shoulder and pointed down the trail, where the moonlight shown through the trees. The man was armed with a cavalry sword and wore a brass breastplate underneath his purple cloak. He rode at a slow canter, eyes searching desperately.
Decimus nodded and silently went to rouse the rest of the section. Artorius was immediately alert and raced to Valens’ side without taking time to don his helmet. He signaled for Gavius and Magnus to hide behind the small barricade on the opposite side of the road, javelins at the ready. Carbo and Decimus ignited their torches and followed Artorius out onto the road. The rider was at first taken aback, but then gave an audible sigh of relief.
“Thank the gods I have found you,” he said.
“What business brings you out this way? Travel along this road is forbidden after sunset,” Artorius replied.
“My name is Julius Indus, and I bring an urgent message for your commander,” the rider replied. “Please, my time is short, and it won’t be long before they notice that I am gone.”
There was no mistaking the nervousness in his voice.
“Indus . . . you’re one of Sacrovir’s men, aren’t you?” Artorius asked.
“That is correct. Please, I beg you. Take me to Master Centurion Calvinus without delay. My message is urgent and cannot wait.”
Artorius nodded and motioned for the rest of the section to rise to their feet.
“Leave your weapon with my men and come with me,” he said.
Indus nodded and dismounted his horse. He immediately unbuckled his sword, which was taken by Valens. Artorius signaled for Indus to follow him. As they entered the small building that Calvinus was using for the detachment’s headquarters, an orderly inside rose up from behind the desk in the center of the room.
“I need you to fetch the master centurion. Tell him it’s urgent,” Artorius told the legionary, who nodded and went into one of the rooms in back. Moments later Calvinus walked into the room, having hastily thrown on his tunic, and was wiping his eyes of sleep. Artorius stepped off to a corner by the front door and stood with his hands clasped behind his back.
“Indus, what the hell are you doing here at this hour?” Calvinus asked. He knew that the Gallic nobleman would not have come all the way to their outpost without reason.
Indus did not hesitate to explain. “I only regret that it has taken me this long to get my message to you. I ask that you forgive my delays. However, it is only this night that I have been able to get away without rousing suspicion. Honorable Centurion Calvinus, I regret to inform you that you have been betrayed.” Calvinus’ face hardened at the remark, twitching slightly as he cinched up his sword belt. His instincts had told him this would happen. Hence, he had already sent dispatches to Silius, urging him to place the rest of the legion on alert.
“The entire uprising you have helped to quell was nothing more than a ruse,” Indus continued. “Sacrovir and Florus planned the entire rebellion as a diversion to draw attention away from them and to lull Rome into thinking of them as allies. As we speak, there are six thousand prisoners of war who are being freed under Sacrovir’s orders. He intends to explain to you that it is simply an act of mercy, to show compassion to the people. In truth, he is sending these men to join his army at Augustodunum. They have been rallying their forces for many months. He intends to soon make himself master of Augustodunum and to declare the province free of Roman rule.”
“And he intends to do this right underneath the noses of Roman soldiers?” Calvinus asked.
“With the freed prisoners, Sacrovir now has an army numbering well over thirty thousand men. He has made himself popular amongst the youth of our nobles in Augustodunum and intends to arm them as well. This will add perhaps another five to ten thousand men to his ranks. Florus has been sent to rally the remnants of the Turani, as well as subverting my own cavalry at Augusta Raurica.
Sacrovir thinks, given the overwhelming odds, your men will simply go home or face annihilation. He is also counting on the Emperor’s unpopularity in the accusations of conspiracy concerning the death of Germanicus to paralyze your forces from being able to move against him.”
Calvinus’ face was hard, his anger rising at these last remarks.
“Sacrovir has underestimated the Emperor, as well as the resolve of the legions! I take it all auxiliary forces have sided with him?”
Indus nodded affirmatively. “They have, with the exception being my own cavalry. But I must tell you. This uprising does not have the popular support of the people. Sacrovir had hoped, by this point, to have an army numbering around one hundred thousand. Instead, he has only a third of that. His army is that of debtors and thieves mostly, led by impoverished nobles with outstanding financial debts to Rome. We must strike at him fast, before he is able to swell his numbers further. As I said, Florus is looking to rally both the remnants of the Turani, as well as our own Treveri.”
“His ‘army’ is nothing more than an unorganized rabble,” Calvinus said, disgusted. “I saw how his gladiators fought. They do not intimidate me. All the same, if the only forces I have in this area amount to my four cohorts, then Sacrovir, potentially, has me outnumbered forty to one, even without the Turani and Treveri. I need you to give me written details of Sacrovir’s plans. I will send them with you on to Legate Gaius Silius, who is only about a week’s march from here with the remaining six cohorts of the legion. I’ll send riders out to other legionary forces within the region as well. Their numbers add up to three additional cohorts. If Silius is able to bring the First Legion, Germanica with him as well, that will improve the situation dramatically.”
“I agree your men should be able to break Sacrovir’s ranks quickly, though be advised. His men are not well-disciplined, however they are well equipped. He intends to arm the young nobles of Augustodunum with suits of metal armor that will completely encase them, making them impervious to javelin attacks. They will not be very mobile, but they will create an obstacle he intends to use to break up the formations of your legions. We also have an opportunity to take out Florus before we even engage Sacrovir.”
Calvinus held up his hand, silencing him for the moment. “You and Florus are both of the Treveri, are you not?” he asked. Indus nodded affirmatively. “We both share similar ancestry. However, I am a Roman first. Florus is nothing but a traitor to the Empire and to our people.” “Alright,” Calvinus replied. “I’m going to send Aemilius and some of our cavalry to escort you to Silius. What of your own troops?”
“They are encamped at a forest pass not too far from Augusta Raurica.”
“That’s right at the base of the Alpes,” Calvinus observed. “Augusta Raurica is a prosperous trade center, as well as a place of leisure for our troops.”
“That is where Florus intends to meet with them. The survivors of the Turani have already started rallying there. I admit I do worry that Florus may be able to sway some of my men into betraying us. No doubt he intends to wipe out the traders there as a message to
the rest of us.”
Calvinus closed his eyes and exhaled audibly at the thought. The massacre of loyal Roman citizens would be a disaster they could ill afford.
“I’ve ordered my men to delay Florus as long as possible,” Indus continued. “My deputy is to meet us here in five days. I can be back from delivering my message to Silius before then. From him, we will know for certain if our forces have remained steadfast in their loyalty.”
“You seem to have doubts about the fidelity of your own men,” Calvinus remarked.
Indus shook his head.
“My men are fiercely loyal to me. I do know that Florus will promise them much in gold and valuables if they should turncoat. I do not doubt that as a whole they will remain true to their oaths. However, we must prepare for the worst.”
“Alright,” Calvinus nodded. “I’ll get a letter to send to Silius myself. Can you ride tonight?”
“I can,” Indus replied. “If we are to keep the initiative, we will have to move fast. Can your men be ready to move tonight, as well?”
“I will have them ready to ride in an hour,” Calvinus said dryly. He then snapped his fingers, summoning his aide. “Fetch Centurion Aemilius. Tell him to gather up thirty of his best riders and be ready to move in an hour.”
“Yes, sir,” the young legionary saluted as he headed out the door.
Indus left with him, heading back to his mount. As Artorius moved to follow him, Calvinus noticed him for the first time.
“Sergeant Artorius,” he said, “I didn’t even notice you there.”
“Sir.” Artorius didn’t know what to say. He felt awkward in the master centurion’s presence.
Artorius’ brother, Metellus had served under Calvinus in the Seventeenth Legion years before. At Teutoburger Wald, Metellus died saving the lives of Calvinus and a pair of legionaries. Calvinus gave the impression he felt like he owed Metellus a debt that could never be repaid, yet he wished to atone for that debt through Metellus’ brother.