The Noise of War

by Vincent B Davis II

  “Greetings,” one of the emissaries replied in Latin.

  “Would you sit with us?” Marius gestured toward the couch. They said nothing in reply but followed him to take their seats. After they were settled in, Aquillius, Catulus, and Sulla did the same. I remained at the back, behind Marius’s couch, never taking my eye off the Cimbri emissaries’ smug eyes. “Are you hungry?” Marius asked. When they didn’t respond, he mimicked the act of eating.

  “We are not hungry, but we will eat with you,” one of them replied. Marius snapped his fingers, and Roman delicacies were brought out on golden plates and passed out to those on the couches. Sulla and Catulus never looked down at their plates, keeping their eyes locked on our enemy instead. Marius was the only Roman who began to help himself, seemingly undisturbed by their presence.

  One of the Cimbri emissaries picked up some of his food and brought it to his nose to sniff, suddenly appearing like a wolf with an unidentified scrap of meat.

  “It’s fried eel, very good,” Marius said again. These were delicacies that Marius’s cook rarely prepared, as Marius preferred something hardier. It was clear that he wanted to impress our guests.

  This attempt was spoiled when the emissary took a bite and his face contorted as if he were about to vomit. He placed the remainder on the plate and scooted it away from himself.

  Marius did not allow his irritation to be apparent, but I could see Aquillius’s eyes twitching.

  “Would you like some wine?”

  “Yes,” one of the emissaries said. They both held out their hands for a slave to bring them Rome’s favored drink. They took it without acknowledging Marius or those who handed it to them.

  “We have enjoyed drinking your wine,” the other Cimbri emissary said. The first was already draining the cup, the purple liquid spilling out over his lips and tricking down his long beard. It must have been quite a sight to the refined Romans in the room, but I was accustomed to seeing this from my time in the Cimbri camp—although it was typically cheap mead and not Falernian-grape wine.

  “We want land in the place you call ‘Gaul,’” one of the emissaries said as the other lifted his chalice to be refilled.

  “No,” was Marius’s only reply. The jovial smile on his face had now faded. He ignored the food in his lap and looked directly at his guests.

  “No?”

  “We will not give you land,” Marius said again. Tension engulfed the room. The only sound was the Roman standards flapping in the wind outside the praetorium. One of the emissaries was about to stand up, but the other placed a hand on his arm to still him.

  “You should reconsider.”

  “Rome does not give land to her enemies. You are fortunate we gave you food and wine. But that is all Rome shall give you.” There was no hesitation in Marius’s voice.

  “Our cousins will be arriving from the west any day now,” one of the emissaries said, a grin creasing his face in triumph. “You will not be able to withstand our combined army.”

  “Do not let your pride be troubled. No one could withstand us,” the other said, more restrained than the first.

  “Your cousins?” A smirk crossed Marius’s face as well. “The Teutones and Ambrones?” Marius now let his head roll back in careless laughter. The Cimbri emissaries glared at him, but there was more confusion in their eyes than malice. The rest of us looked away, almost unable to keep our feet from tapping. “Volsenio, show them our most honored guest.”

  Volsenio disappeared for a moment and then returned with the sound of iron shackles dragging along the earth.

  Teutobod, king of the Teutones, stood within Volsenio’s grasp, his hands restrained behind him. His face was swollen and purple, dried blood covering his lips and his left cheek. His fine robes had been torn, but fine they remained. He was still adorned with the trappings of a king, but covered in mud, blood, and spit; it was clear to the Cimbri emissaries what had happened.

  The Cimbri jumped to their feet, shaking with fury. Teutobod didn’t look up at them, staring only at his feet in utter humiliation and defeat. It appeared that the Teutone survivors who hadn’t been captured had scurried off to safety. Clearly, no one had delivered word of the defeat to their Cimbri allies.

  “Your cousins wanted land, emissary. Now they have it.”

  One of the Cimbri men lunged at Marius, who didn’t budge or blink, but the other grabbed his wrist.

  “Where do you want to meet your end?” asked the more stable of the two.

  “On the Raudine Plain, first light, three days hence,” Marius said without pause or hesitation.

  The Cimbri emissaries turned on their feet and hurried out of the praetorium without further hesitation.

  “That was how you ‘honor’ them, Marius?” Sulla asked, hand on his chin. I realized then that my heart had been racing the entire time.

  Marius reclined on his couch and exhaled deeply. “That went exactly how I intended.” He pulled his plate back over and gorged on the remainder of his fried eel.

  “Three days? Are we really prepared to meet them, Marius? Or is this some kind of ruse?” Catulus asked.

  “That’s Consul Marius,” he said, picking something from his teeth, “and of course we’re ready to meet them. My men are, at least.”

  “Our legions are ready,” Sulla said firmly.

  “Then we have no concerns. Send word to Rome that we’ll meet the bastards soon.” Aquillius stood and handed his untouched food to a slave. “We need to begin preparations immediately.”

  “The preparations are already completed. We’ve only to disseminate the orders.” Marius gestured for Volsenio to grab the scrolls from his desk.

  “You didn’t plan on consulting with me on this matter?” Catulus asked.

  “You’ll receive your share of the credit, Proconsul, I assure you. But the battlefield is mine. And we will crush them.”

  Three days before the kalends of August 653 ab urbe condita

  Marius conferred with the command staff for the next two days, going over the plans for battle and allowing them to make their suggestions. Few were accepted, but Catulus and Sulla seemed to be pacified. The battle would take place the following morning at first light, as Marius had decreed. The night before, Marius had ordered for the tribunes to rally at the south wall, where we were to be briefed about the battle that lay ahead.

  We’d waited in silence—only breaking it to shoo away a few mules who were attempting to eavesdrop—for the consuls to arrive. Marius and Aquillius came promptly at the eighth hour. There was a grim presence about them, as well as with us, but one of seriousness rather than fear. We all realized that the fate of the Republic would be decided the following day, but the die had been cast, and there was no uncertainty to fear any longer.

  “Good evening, Tribunes,” Marius began.

  “Evening, sir.” We snapped to attention.

  “You all realize what will happen tomorrow?”

  We nodded with dour approval.

  “We will need you all at your best. The men will look to you more than ever, and they should see nothing but bravery and relentlessness in your eyes. Otherwise, we will fail.” He reached out and Aquillius handed him a stick. He kicked away some twigs and rocks, creating a clean plot of dirt in front of him. “Gather around.” He waited for us to do so, and then began to draw lines in the sand. “Our men will be stationed here, in the center. All three of our legions shoulder to shoulder. We’ll meet the bulk of our enemy.” Aquillius nodded with approval behind him. “Catulus will take the left wing, and Legate Sulla will take the right.” Marius continued to draw out the field of battle as some of the men groaned.

  “I know. I feel the same as you. I wanted Consul Aquillius to lead one of the flanks, but we’ll need all of our men at the center. We can’t stretch ourselves too thin. Our cavalry, however, will be placed here,” he said, drawing a circle behind Sulla’s flank. “We have no room for trickery or deceit this time, men, no flanking or ambushes. We have to reinfo
rce the flanks, or our less experienced allies might falter,” Marius said. “Our horse will be led by Tribune Hirtuleius.”

  All eyes turned to the left of me where my old comrade stood wide eyed.

  “Tribune Sertorius, who has also led the cavalry in recent battles, will be placed here, with the Seventh Legion.” He poked directly at the center of our dirt formation as all eyes turned to me.

  “Sir, if I may…” Lucius gestured nervously.

  “Go ahead,” Marius replied without looking up.

  “Tribune Sertorius is far better on a horse. I’m not quite as experienced—”

  Marius cut him off. “You’re as experienced in leading cavalry as any man in this legion. Besides, I want Tribune Sertorius with the Seventh. If First Spear Herennius falls, I want Sertorius to lead the Seventh.”

  “Perhaps he could lead the cavalry and I—”

  Marius raised a finger to silence him up again, “No, Tribune. He has experience leading men as a centurion. I believe you are the right man for this position, and I do not make mistakes.” Lucius gulped but the rest of us smiled.

  “Equus… Tribune Cinna, rather, you will go with Tribune Hirtuleius. If he dies, you’ll take over,” Marius said and returned to his dirt battle map. It was necessary to take such precautions in battle, but it was always sobering to hear that your death or the death of a close friend was plausible.

  Marius continued to explain the roles of the various tribunes. Many of them attempted, respectfully, of course, to object. All were denied. Marius was quite certain about his decisions, and there was a confidence about him that was undeniable, leaving us all with the conclusion that he actually did know more than we.

  “I want everyone to go to sleep. We’ll need you rested. Drink willow water if need be, but no strong wine tonight. We’ll need you at your best.” He paused and scanned our faces. “Don’t worry, though, if we win tomorrow, we’ll get so drunk we’ll have to lay on the battlefield just to hold on.”

  We laughed, as much in nervous anticipation as in response to the joke, but it was important to do so, considering what lay ahead. It was likely that many of the men to our left and right would be reduced to ash the following evening or, worse yet, rotting under the corpses of their friends.

  “Dismissed, Tribunes.”

  We snapped to attention, saluted, and shouted in unison, “Jupiter!”

  “Optimus et Maximus,” Marius said with the responsive salute.

  Before I departed, I approached the Consul alone.

  “General Marius. I have a question for you,” I began.

  “And what is it, Tribune Sertorius?” Marius replied.

  “Martha prophesied that we would win the battle at Aquae Sextiae. I doubted her, but she was right.” I attempted to smile and signal contrition at my disbelief. “Has she given word about tomorrow?”

  Marius looked up and met my eye for a moment. Then he exhaled and stepped away. He said nothing more, leaving me embarrassed and confused. I didn’t know how to interpret his response, but none of the ways I attempted were positive.

  Apollonius was in the tribunes’ tent when I arrived, a damp towel and my helmet in hand.

  “How are you, amicus?” I asked.

  He stood and hung the helmet on the stand by my bed and approached with a nervous smile on his face. He extended his hand, which I shook in the Roman manner, something he took great pride in since he had begun to do so.

  “So tomorrow it will begin?”

  “Tomorrow it will end, Apollonius. It will end.” I exhaled and plopped down on the trunk at the foot of my bed.

  He shrugged his shoulders. “One way or the other, it will end tomorrow.”

  “That’s right. And all I can lose is the present moment,” I said as he found a stool and pulled it up alongside me.

  “Tribune Sertorius, we’re going to visit the valetudinarium and attempt to cheer up the men, are you coming?” Equus said as he passed me by.

  “I’ll join you there in a while.” I waved him on and then turned back to Apollonius. “And, one way or another, you’ll have your freedom tomorrow.”

  Apollonius looked down at his feet. “You very well may live.”

  “Regardless, this war will be over, and you’ll have your freedom.”

  He looked up and met my eye with an indiscernible look.

  “Rome will need you sooner or later, and you’ll need a ‘shield bearer.’” He tried to smile, but I could tell it was difficult for him to do so.

  “Well, maybe I will.” I pulled up my leg and began to untie my sandals. “But you shouldn’t have to be the one to do it. You’ve put up with me long enough.”

  “Not good enough at it, ay?” he asked.

  “Better than good. But you deserve to find your family. Some other poor fool will put up with me eventually.”

  He looked down, but a thankful grin, less forced now, covered his face.

  “Shall I write something to your family before battle?”

  I considered it for a moment. “No. I think I shall do so this time,” I said with an exhale. “If you’ll grab me some parchment and a pen, that may be the last request I’ll ever make of you.”

  After I prepared my last words to my family, I joined Equus and some of the other tribunes at the valetudinarium.

  “I’m looking for Marcus Axius,” I said to the highest-ranking medicus. It had been a while since I had visited him, and each time he had been resting. Occasionally I feared he might never wake up, and that made it more difficult to return.

  “Let me check the rolls.” He departed for a moment and then returned. “Nobody here by that name, sir.”

  “Maybe just Ax? That’s what we called him.” My heart began to beat faster.

  “We don’t use nicknames here, sir,” he replied.

  I tried not to panic but moved quickly through the stalls, peering behind ever curtain.

  “What are you doing, Sertorius?” Equus laughed, not understanding my task.

  “I’ll be back in a moment,” I replied and hurried on.

  Finally, I found him. He was a fraction of the size he once was. The mallet-like hands he had used to clap me on the back were bone thin, and his barrel chest, which used to give him the hardest time when putting on his armor, was now shallow and recessed. It was a wonder I had recognized him in that cage, and even less so now.

  “My old friend,” I said as I approached his bed. He didn’t stir for a moment, but then his eyes open and he shifted. “Lie still.”

  “Well, I better salute, you being a tribune now and all.” He tried to laugh but ended up coughing. The smile that had once charmed the whole damned legion was filled with broken teeth and splintered lips.

  “Shove it up your arse, Ax. We’ll always be tentmates, as far as I’m concerned.” He shifted in the bed so that I could take a seat beside him. “I really thought you were dead, Ax. I saw you take an arrow.”

  “Well, that makes two of us.” He pulled back his blankets to reveal his bare chest and a thick scar across his sternum. “That’s where the arrow got me. I thought I’d be dead too, but apparently it wasn’t deep enough, or it didn’t hit anything vital.” He paused and laughed cynically before coughing once again. “I tried to charge into them so I might die like some sort of hero, but I collapsed before I killed a single one of them.”

  “I saw what you did.” I laughed with him. “Heroic or not, I thought it was foolish.”

  “Well, that’s what I’m known for.” He sucked wind through the missing gaps in his teeth. “So the arrow didn’t kill me. So old Marcus Axius is going to die from infections and lung congestions.”

  “Who says you’re going to die?” I barked, still attempting to be playful. Ax’s face became quite serious, though.

  “The medicus. Says I’ll probably die. Called it an act of the gods that I’ve made it this far.”

  “Well, the gods will just have to keep on acting, then, won’t they? You’re not going anywhere on me, Ax. I�
��m a tribune now, remember? That’s an order.”

  He smiled and shook his head.

  “If I have anything to do with it, I’ll keep fighting. I’d really like to see home again.” We both sobered.

  “We’re going to make sure that happens, Ax. And as soon as you’re well enough for transport, we’ll get you home. We have to win tomorrow first!”

  “The battle is tomorrow?” Suddenly his eyes sparkled like they used to. I didn’t know why.

  “Oh…yes. I assumed you’d heard.”

  “I’m mostly forgotten about in here. Don’t hear much gossip.”

  I didn’t know how to respond to that, so we sat in silence for a moment.

  “Want me to light that candelabrum?” I asked.

  “No, I’ll probably go back to sleep when you leave.”

  “Oh,” I replied. There was so much I wanted to say to Ax, and presumably so much he’d like to say to me. But we didn’t have to. After everything we had endured together, we knew each other’s hearts.

  “I best leave, then. I’ll be fighting for you tomorrow, Ax, so you fight for me.”

  “Order confirmed, Stallion.” He leaned up in bed and shook my hand. I met his eyes and he nodded before I turned to leave.

  I didn’t know if he would still be there when I returned, or if I would be alive to do so.

  I saw as many of the other mules as I could on my way out. The men there told us how distraught they were that they wouldn’t be marching with us into battle. Some of them might have been feigning it, to be certain, but I could tell that the majority of them meant it. You’d be surprised how brave the soldier’s heart can become when he develops love for his brothers. I bid them farewell and told them not to worry, for by midday tomorrow, the Cimbri would be destroyed. I hoped that was true, but I knew we wouldn’t have to suffer the consequences of the lie if it wasn’t.

  I departed the valetudinarium, knowing that many of us would join the dead and dying there soon enough.