“It is. Thank you, Apollonius.” I placed a hand on his shoulder. “Go and get some rest.”
“Is there nothing else you need?” he said, his sleepy eyes lighting up at the mention of rest.
“No, go on. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He nodded gratefully and departed. Lucius was smiling coyly when I looked at him.
“What is it?” I asked as I shook his hand, his grin infectious.
“Nothing. You’ll find out later.”
“If you put anything in my bed…” I inspected my things to ensure they hadn’t been tainted by my friend’s mischief.
“Nothing like that,” he said. “Do you like our new home?” He gestured to the nearly empty barracks around us.
“Not quite as dirty as a mule tent, I’m afraid to say. I’ll miss sleeping on a cot under the stars.” I didn’t really mean it, but there was a strange sensation of guilt as I touched the soft fabric of my blankets.
“I’m sure there will be less snoring and farting than you are used to. Although, I can promise you that there will be at least some farting and snoring.”
“If those are marks of a mule, your friend Lucius should be among them, certainly,” another tribune said from the back of the tent. He stood from tying his sandals and approached us. “He’s been keeping me up for weeks now.”
“That’s retaliation for waking us up an hour before sunrise with your bloody exercising and morning prayers,” Lucius said. It was apparent that they had become friends.
“My name is Cinna, Tribune. Everyone calls me Equus, though,” he said. I shook his hand and introduced myself. He was a young man, no more than seventeen years of age. The fact that it seemed unlikely that he would be able to grow facial hair made his mornings a bit easier, I’m sure.
“Because he’s as calm as a cup of water,” Lucius said. “No matter what camp life throws at him, I’ve yet to see him react with anything but a nod of the head.”
Equus gave us a display by nodding along with what Lucius was saying.
“Growing up around Gaius Marius can have that effect. He sucked out all my anger so he could use it for himself,” Equus said.
“You know the consul well?” I asked.
“I do. My father, the elder Cinna, is a good friend of his. Father is in Rome protecting Marius’s interests now. Marius did me the great favor of getting me out of my father’s hair…what little of it remains…by bringing me here.”
“First year with the legion.” Lucius ruffled Equus’s hair like a toddler’s. “We’ll have to teach him quickly.”
“I’ll teach you something about manners in the process.” Equus freed himself and punched Lucius in the stomach. “I’d better be leaving. I have to give report to Sulla about the blasted grain provisions. It was nice meeting you, Tribune.” He shook my hand and turned to leave, then paused. “I could show you around first, if you’d like?”
Lucius and I shrugged and followed him outside.
“Where to begin?” he said, analyzing the camp before raising a finger and carrying on. “To the front of camp you’ll find the main gate, where the standards are on display. Around it we have a veterinarium for the horses and a fabrica workshop for clothing needs. Just beside it we have the valetudinarium.” He stretched his finger in each direction.
“A valetudinarium?” I asked.
“Yes. A hospital,” he replied.
“I know what it means…” I analyzed the large building crafted with brick and covered in plaster, with arches and columns adorning the outside. “We just never had a hospital. We had a tent with a few untrained soldiers tending to the wounded.”
“I’d say there are a great many things in camp you’ll be unused to,” Lucius said with a wink.
“Well the medici are still enlisted men, with as much medical training as a sack of grapes, but it’s something. When we start seeing battle, they’ll receive a fast education.” Equus’s demeanor was calm and endearing, and I found myself impressed at the young man’s poise. “Follow me this way,” he said.
He stretched out his arms, one to the left and the other to the right.
“To the sides, you’ll find the arae sacrificial altars, the tribunal for court-martial trials and a bit of free entertainment, as well as the grain and meat storehouses.” He turned to the right. “Down that path, you’ll find the forum, where the men can spend some of their leisure time and all of their money on drink, food, and a bit of gambling.”
“There’s a forum in camp?” I asked, perplexed. Marius seemed more of a prodigy than ever.
“That’s right. These men signed up for years, not just the duration of the war, so they need a modicum of normality. The legionaries need a place to wind down anyhow, and those dirty shopkeepers need a way to take their money. On either side, you’ll find additional gates.” He pointed into the far distance where I could see smaller exits, both still fortified with towers. I had already witnessed the brutality of the Cimbri in combat, but this camp seemed impenetrable, even for them. It was a small city, by any means of measurement.
“There’s the armamentarium, where we house the heavy weaponry and artillery that isn’t placed on the wall.”
“We have heavy weaponry?” I asked with wide eyes.
“Well…no. But it’s where we’d keep them if we did.” He shrugged.
“Ah, one last thing,” he said, leading the way around our quarters and onto another paved path.
A few young soldiers saluted us nervously as we passed them by.
“To the rear, you’ll find the prison. Here also we have the plunder stores. Beyond that, you’ll see where the auxilia are garrisoned.” He pointed to the rows of even tents in the distance, each with baggage carts and rows of stacked swords and shields. “And beyond that, in the back of the camp, we have the quaestorium, where you can visit for any supply needs.” He exhaled as an orator does after finishing a speech and turned to me with a smile. “And that is where I’m heading now to meet with His Highness Sulla. Unless you have any questions?”
“No…I’m a bit perplexed by the complexity of it all, but I’d wager I can figure out the rest on my own.”
He saluted and headed off toward the quaestorium.
“Keep that one in line!” he shouted back at me, referring to Lucius, who shook his head like an aggravated older brother.
Lucius and I walked and talked for a while. I told him about marrying Volesa, leaving Arrea behind, and the little episode in Massilia. He filled me in on what I had missed in camp while I was gone, and updated me on the various camp political disputes, such as two centurions vying for a position as a first spear.
“But how are the men? How is morale?” I asked him, already guessing my answer from what I had seen in my brief walk through camp.
“Not well. Most of them are scared. They’re very green… Most of our veterans are dead or too old to fight.”
“I can understand why they’re frightened. The tales of the savage Cimbri are quickly spinning into myth.”
“The senate passed a law last market day to ban any vessel from giving passage to any man of fighting age,” Lucius said.
“I left just in time, then. I took a boat from Genua to Massilia.”
“Either that, or the captain was hurting from lack of coin.” Lucius shrugged.
I told Lucius of my horse, and we found ourselves sauntering to the stables to see her.
“She’s a beautiful animal,” he said, petting her snout. “Shhh, it’s alright, girl.”
“She’s deaf, I think. It will be interesting to see how she’ll perform in battle.” I reclined against the wood of the stall and allowed myself to shimmy into the hay-covered mud.
“There’s no better horse trainer in the legion. I’d wager any amount of coin,” he said. “I’m sure she’ll do just fine.”
“Lucius,” I said before pausing to exhale, “Marius wants me to infiltrate the Cimbri camp to collect intelligence.” I ensured my voice was quiet enough tha
t I wouldn’t be overheard.
He nodded and took a seat beside me.
“Marius mentioned something about that. I even volunteered, but he knew I don’t know a damn word of Gallic, and I’ve no talent for acting.”
“You volunteered?” I asked, my eyebrows burrowing. I suddenly felt ashamed for not immediately accepting the mission.
“Eh,” he said, and shrugged. “I knew he wouldn’t allow it. Only felt right to try.”
“I envy you,” I said, looking away from him.
“You envy me? Why?”
“Your bravery. Toughness…that you still believe in our fight,” I said. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him shaking his head.
“Don’t start all that. You were the first man to scale the wa—”
“Please, Lucius…spare me the antidotes of Burdigala. I cannot rest on that feat of stupidity for the rest of my life. To be honest,” I said, turning to him again, “I don’t even know why I did it.”
“If you want a friend to confirm your cowardice or to allow you to wallow, you’ll have to look elsewhere, amicus. I’m no good at acting, remember?” He clapped my neck and pulled me closer to him. “You’re one of the toughest, bravest soldiers of Rome that I know. And you haven’t lost your belief in Rome’s cause, Quintus. Lie to yourself if you want, but don’t lie to me. You wouldn’t have returned if you had no hope left.”
“I was following orders, Lucius. Just doing my duty,” I said. My horse seemed to sense my distress, and lightened the mood by nudging my head with her massive, soaking nose.
“I don’t believe that,” he said, pushing himself up to his feet. “I think in time you’ll remember yourself. You’ve endured a lot. It’s only natural that you’ve questions to ask and answers to find.”
“And you? Why aren’t you asking and seeking?” He extended a hand to help me to my feet.
“I am, Quintus. In my own way.” His tone was far more serious than it usually was.
“Do you think I should go, then? Accept Marius’s mission?”
He placed his hands akimbo on his hips and considered it.
“No.”
“Why not? You volunteered, right? Think your tougher than me, is that it?” I flexed my arms at him as he roared with laughter, the mare seeming to join in with a few grunts herself.
“I only volunteered because I thought that meant you wouldn’t have to go,” he said, turning to me. “It was pragmatism, Quintus. You have a wife and child now, and a mother to look after.”
“And you have a little brother.”
“Yes, one that your family is currently caring for.” He placed a hand on my shoulder. “I didn’t want you to go, because it is reckless and foolish and will likely get you killed.”
“But the intelligence is valuable. We need to know how the Cimbri conduct themselves so we can defeat them. Without understanding these strange invaders, we’ll likely be slaughtered again.” I shuddered at the thought.
He shook his head.
“Have some faith! We have Marius leading us now,” he said with a coy grin. It was no secret that he worshipped the ground General Marius walked on. The consul was perhaps the only thing keeping the entire state from declining into outright panic.
“And Marius is the one asking me to do this. He said I have until tomorrow morning to inform him of my decision.”
“‘Return at first light. Dismissed, Tribune.’” Lucius mocked Marius’s gruff voice, with the utmost respect, of course. I couldn’t help but laugh. This was why I talked to Lucius. He was the remedy to stress and fear, more effective than wine and he didn’t come with a hangover. He was Rome’s best-kept secret.
“Come on, then, Tribune. I need some sleep.” I opened the stall door and bid my mare goodbye with a kiss between her eyes.
“Hold on, now. You have to name her first,” Lucius said.
Naming a horse is always a bad idea as a trainer. It makes it that much harder to give them up. I wouldn’t be selling her after she was trained but leading her into battle. The thought of losing a horse was sad, but losing a friend was devastating. And a horse with a name is a friend, my father always used to say.
“You always were a sentimental one, amicus,” I said.
“You deserve a name, don’t you, girl?” he said in a voice reserved for infants and animals.
“I’ll call her…”
“What about Sura? After my mother,” he said.
“That’s her name.” I patted him on the shoulder and turned to leave.
“It’s a pretty name for a pretty girl. You know, I’ve got a male a few stalls down. We could get them together and see what happens?”
“You keep your beast away from my girl, or you’ll be wearing an eye patch too.”
Stallions were typically gelded before war season. This was a precaution so that, lest the horses be taken during battle, the enemy couldn’t improve their breading stock. Marius had ordered the stallions to be left alone, I assume as a gesture that he believed we would ultimately be victorious. Either that, or, if we failed and they took our stallions, it wouldn’t really matter anymore.
We departed, and as we walked under the setting Gallic sun back to the tribunes’ tent, Lucius did not mention my mission, or ask whether I planned to accept it. Perhaps he knew that it was a decision I alone could make, and it was no use to talk about it any further. Or, more likely, he believed the situation was already settled, and my mind already set on declining. I, however, was not so sure about that.
9
Scroll IX
Nones of February 651 ab urbe condita
Lucius hadn’t been lying. Equus rose before the sun to exercise while the rest of the tribunes rested on their pillows. He said nothing as he got ready, but he didn’t work to keep himself silent either. I was restless anyhow, so I strapped on my armor and threw a cape over my shoulders and exited into the cold morning air.
The Gallic sun was shining orange as it rose in the east, each blade of grass in our camp sparkling with the crystal white frost of the night prior.
“Morning, Equus.” I saluted as I walked by, slapping a fist to my chest and extending it forward. We weren’t required to salute our equals, but most of did, out of respect.
“Care to join me on a run?” He stretched to touch his toes.
“I’m barely past crawling. I’m exhausted. Perhaps tomorrow.” He smiled at my response, saluted again, and began his run.
I followed the dirt path past the sleeping tent of our mules to the praetorium that lay within the little city our army had constructed.
I entered to find Marius, awake and alert, at his desk. I had heard rumor that Marius prided himself on being the earliest riser in the camp, but I was still surprised. From the look of him, he had shaved, bathed, and already completed a stack of paperwork.
Sulla, Marius’s second-in-command, reclined on a couch across the room from him, and appeared far less alert.
“Good morning, Tribune.”
“Sir,” I said, saluting, “good morning.”
“How did you like your barracks? Meet any of the other tribunes?”
“A few of them, sir. Cinna minor, for one,” I replied, following the gesture to approach his desk and take a seat.
“That’s a good lad. He’ll be a powerful figure in Rome one day,” Marius said.
“Our consul is a prophet, didn’t you know?” Sulla said, rubbing his temples.
“No, but he knows character when he sees it. Otherwise I wouldn’t have plucked you from the gutter, Sulla,” Marius said. For a moment, I felt tension rise in the room, but both men smiled. “Don’t mind him,” Marius said to me. “He has no personality at all until he’s had his fifth cup of wine.”
“Give me a few hours. I’ll get there.” Sulla leaned back and closed his eyes.
“Have you news for us?” Marius asked, gesturing with his finger for a slave to bring me a warm glass of honey water.
“I do. I accept the mission,” I said. Sul
la suddenly shot up erect on the couch, and Marius’s eyebrows rose to his receding hairline.
“You do?”
“I’ll go, if it is how I can best serve Rome,” I answered. If I had had more time to decide, perhaps I would have chosen not to go. Perhaps that was why Marius gave me one day, and one day only, to make my decision. I couldn’t overthink it.
“I assure you that it is,” Marius said, standing to his feet. I stood also, and shook his hand.
“Perhaps you do know character when you see it, Consul,” Sulla said with a grin. I tried to shake his hand as well, but instead he pulled me closer and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. He was a strong man, stronger than he appeared. His fingernails were so clean and his hands so soft, you might have thought otherwise, but within the clothes of a sheep was the strength of a lion. And, perhaps, the cunning of a fox.
“You understand that there will be no record of this event? If you succeed, or fail, it makes no difference. You will not win any decoration or be praised by citizens in the streets.” Marius seemed genuinely surprised that I had accepted.
“I understand this, Consul. That isn’t my goal,” I said.
“May I ask you what is your goal, Tribune?” Sulla said, accepting his first wine of the morning.
“To do my duty, sir.” The only man’s respect I was trying to earn was my own. I needed to prove I was no coward. That I was who Lucius said I was, who my brother believed I would be.
“A man cut from your cloth, Marius,” Sulla said with a coy grin.
“Volsenio,” Marius called for his massive Numidian slave, who arrived promptly, “take the tribune to the brig. Show him the man he is to interrogate.”
I didn’t much like the use of that word, but I assumed the prisoner had been groomed for the task.
“Yes, dominus.”
“Do you know how I became Marius’s slave?” Volsenio asked as he led me toward the camp prison.
“I do not. What happened?”
“I was a noble in the house of Jugurtha, Rome’s enemy. He was my cousin. I had no aspirations for power, but by name alone I should have been strangled in the carnifex. But I went to the consul directly, and asked him to spare my life, and that of my wife and children.” Volsenio’s accent was thick, but his words were deliberate and his demeanor compelling. He nodded at the guards as we entered and led the way into the dark, damp prison. “I told him that I would serve him if he let my family live.”
The Noise of War Page 9