Sons of Rome

by Karrie Roman

  Drusus watched Caius as he crouched into his stance. If he was nervous about facing his centurion he kept it well hidden. Drusus would look for Caius’s weak spot. Every man had one and Drusus only need find it.

  Exactly as Calpurnius had said, Caius lashed out like an asp, stabbing his gladius to Drusus’s stomach. He only just managed to parry the blow away with his own gladius. He glanced at Caius, his stomach fluttering at the smile on his opponent’s face.

  Drusus had never been pursued by another; he’d always had partners from the brothels or hurried encounters in local villages with willing partners. He understood nothing of relationships other than those between officers and soldiers. It appeared, even to him, that Caius’s smile was something more than a simple friendly grin.

  Drusus had to concentrate on fighting the man, not fucking him, or he was going to shame himself in front of Caius and the entire century. He crouched low and struck at Caius’s exposed belly. Caius blocked him, as expected, but Drusus quickly pulled his gladius up and to the left before whipping it back toward Caius’s throat. Caius’s gladius was caught in the momentum of blocking his original move, and though he was fast, he was unable to get it back quick enough to block Drusus’s attack. Caius thrust his head back and took the blow across the chest rather than his neck. Had it been battle Drusus would have sliced across his armour, a hard blow but not a fatal one.

  Caius grunted and bent at the waist. Though the wooden gladius would not cut the skin, a strike from them caused an ache. He wondered how Caius would react to the pain. But it was a foolish mistake to think of anything other than where or how to land the next blow. Caius absorbed the blow easily and struck back hard and fast.

  From his doubled-over position Caius lunged. He powered his gladius upwards, the blunt tip glancing across Drusus’s ribs. It would have been a catastrophic blow in battle had Drusus not pivoted at the last second.

  Drusus swiftly learned not to underestimate his opponent. He rubbed at his ribs with one hand, using the motion to distract Caius, but struck out with his gladius in the other. The tip found its target but Drusus did not draw away. He lunged over and over, stabbing at his opponent as he’d been taught so long ago now. Caius valiantly fought off the attack, but Drusus did not let up.

  Caius would have been wounded many times over, but Drusus admired that he fought on, never failing to at least attempt to block his strokes. He had yet to allow Drusus to strike a killing blow.

  All men in the legions were in excellent shape. Their training was daily and brutal but it prepared them well for sustained battle. Regardless, Drusus’s body was fatiguing, so he would not be able to keep up the withering attack much longer. Caius’s arms noticeably shook as he finally began to show signs of strain under the sustained assault.

  “Do you give, legionary?” he grunted between strikes.

  “No, Centurion.” Caius’s eyes were full of determination—and admiration. Drusus had never met anyone whose eyes he read so well. In the light of day, much of what Caius felt was apparent in his brown-eyed gaze.

  Drusus lunged again, and again. But Caius hadn’t only been defending—he’d been learning. Caius’s gladius finally made its way under his, the tip finding its mark on Drusus chest. Drusus stepped into the blow and hooked his leg around Caius’s, taking them both to the ground. Caius tried to roll, but Drusus used his larger size to sit atop him, trapping him between his knees. He grabbed Caius’s wrists and held them firmly above his head. He was bent so low over Caius their heaving chests almost touched.

  The sensation of Caius beneath him even as he continued struggling was incredible. Drusus used every ounce of his will not to think how he would feel beneath him naked, pliant and so eager for Drusus’s touch,

  “I give, Centurion.” Caius panted. He wore a small smile, which pleased Drusus. Caius had fought well, and he hoped he would be proud of his efforts rather than ashamed he had been beaten.

  Drusus stood slowly—and reluctantly—away from Caius’s body. He reached down and was relieved when Caius clutched at his forearm, allowing Drusus to help him from the ground.

  “You fought well, Caius. You will be formidable in battle,” Drusus said loudly so the entire century would hear his praise.

  “Gratitude, Centurion. Not as well as you though.” Caius’s lips twitched, and for a horrible moment, Drusus wondered if Caius had felt his cock harden when they’d tussled on the ground.

  “It is a matter of experience, Caius. Nothing more,” Drusus replied. “Marcus, let’s get them back to the posts.”

  “Centurion.”

  The men would stab the posts a while longer. Towards evening Drusus would join them for a run. Every man would be required to run with their full pack. Having the stamina needed for the hard work expected of them and any fight they may encounter east of the Rhine was vitally important.

  THE SUN WAS low by the time they returned to their barracks from their run. Drusus was tired from the long day, especially after his spar with Caius. Actively battling his own body to control it around Caius had also exhausted him.

  “Drusus?” Calpurnius called. “May I enter?”

  Drusus sat up straighter on his pallet and turned to the doorway. “Come in, Cal.”

  Calpurnius walked into the room, his gaze drifting about, keenly taking in his surroundings. “I thought we could talk alone. I only have a moment before I am on guard. There’s so much I want to know about your last seventeen years, yet I am afraid to ask with the other men around.”

  “Sit, Cal. We have time to talk before my meal. I cannot get over how you have grown. The last I saw, you came up to my knees and were crying because your kitten had scratched you.”

  Cal laughed. “That kitten lived many happy years getting fat eating rats from the animal sheds.”

  “How were things after I left? Was it difficult for you and mother?”

  “You are not to blame, Drusus. You were conscripted to the legions. To stay would have meant your death and our family’s shame. Mother could not have borne that. It wasn’t too hard anyway. Especially once Mother married Sejeunes. He is a good man and runs the farm well.”

  “And he treats Mother well? And what of you? Did he treat you well?” Drusus asked, desperately hoping Sejeunes was a mild-tempered man.

  “Did you receive none of our letters?” Calpurnius frowned. Drusus had received a handful in the early years but few as time moved on. “He treats our mother as though she were a goddess, and he treated me well, too, Drusus. He was firm, but fair. Mother was lucky to have him to rein me in during my wild days.”

  “Wild days? You were always able to get out of any trouble by a simple smile, Cal. Even mother would melt at the sight of it. Do not tell me that has changed?” Drusus stood and poured wine for them both. He was so delighted with his brother being here in his century, despite his other fears for Calpurnius facing twenty years of hardship. Surely, the gods were smiling on him, and all would be well.

  “It still works on occasion, but I had my share of trouble. Sejeunes guided me through it as though he were my father. I am mellowing, though, and I do not know if it is age or the influence of Caius.” Cal took a sip of his wine and brushed some curls from his forehead.

  “Caius?”

  “Yes. I met him shortly before the conquisitors came to recruit in our region. He is calm of spirit but strong and ferocious when needed. He is the type of man all Romans aspire to be.”

  “You are fond of him?” Drusus asked, feeling that bite of jealousy nipping at him once again.

  “I am. But I am fonder of his sister. I would have married her had I not been conscripted.”

  Drusus actually released a whoosh of air. There would be nothing worse than falling for a man whom his brother already had a claim on. “Was she very beautiful?”

  “You have seen her brother, Drusus. How could she not be beautiful?”

  “He is a handsome man.” Drusus stopped himself there. Songs could be sung of Caius’s beauty, b
ut he could not afford to let anyone know where his mind wandered at the mention of Caius.

  “So, what have you seen of the world, brother?”

  “I have been mostly in Germania. Early on I was in Gaul—they have fierce men there, as they do east of the Rhine. I served under Tiberius for a time before I was moved to the Eighteenth.”

  “Have you been with the Eighteenth long?” Cal leaned toward him, his face an expression of curiosity.

  “Many years now. I have been centurion of this century for close to three years, with Marcus as optio for the entire time. He is a good man.”

  “Has it been—have you seen many battles?”

  “Too many. War is not romantic or glorious. It is pain and blood and death. I wish you could have avoided it, but unfortunately, such is the life of Roma’s sons. I am glad to see you again, though, and I will do what I can to help you until my time is up.”

  “I do not want you to treat me differently, Drusus. Treat me as if I were any other legionary.” Cal smiled as he stood. “Though, if you feel the need to use your vine stick upon my back, I would ask you to soften the blows.” Cal winked and left the room.

  Drusus had never lost his love for his brother, and his presence certainly nurtured the affection. As happy as he was that Calpurnius was here, he still wondered if it would be a hindrance in battle. Would he be able to function for the benefit of all his men when his thoughts would be consumed with worry for his brother?

  Chapter Three

  DRUSUS STOOD SILENTLY and observed his new recruits as they tossed their javelins at far-off targets. He’d watched them closely for ten days now. They were all good men and fit in well with the century. Their arrival—or rather Calpurnius’s—had brought change to his life. He ate his evening meal every night in the company of his brother—and usually always Caius, unless he was on watch. Marcus often joined them, and they all enjoyed watching the other soldiers fight for a nearby seat.

  The days were warming up, heating the barracks to an uncomfortable temperature, especially after they’d cooked their meal, making it far more pleasant to eat outside. It also allowed a larger number of his century to eat together, which Drusus happily noted also had the benefit of fostering a closer bond between the men.

  As he watched a couple of his men wrestling off to the side, he realized this was a light-hearted time, but it would come to an end soon enough when they marched for the summer campaigns. Drusus did not concern himself with Calpurnius’s capability in battle anymore. He’d seen for himself how well Cal could handle his gladius; he was accurate with his javelin, and he moved swiftly with good instincts in hand-to-hand combat. Cal was a capable warrior, but Drusus worried for his safety because he knew the Chatti, Cherusci, and many other Germanic tribes also had capable men, and fate could be a fickle thing. He’d observed often enough the part chance played in whether a man lived or died in battle.

  “They settle in well, Drusus,” Marcus said as he came to stand at his side.

  “They do. We will be unstoppable, Marcus.” Drusus was not one for hubris, but sometimes it helped to talk in such a way. Words could give confidence as easily as take it away.

  “That, we will,” Marcus replied, thumping his shoulder before moving on.

  Drusus left to make his meal shortly after. He had come to enjoy making his bread now that it was second nature to him. Though he still did whatever it took to avoid crushing the grain when it needed to be done. He was happy to leave the boring and monotonous task to the slaves. But there was no finer scent than a freshly baked loaf.

  He approached his men with his meal in hand once he was done. He took the first available seat, knowing Cal was on guard so could not eat with him tonight. He was also dining earlier than usual as he had much work to do. So much that he’d considered eating in his room, but the call of camaraderie enticed him outside. A warm body slid onto the ground beside him, and he knew from the tingle in his skin who it was before looking.

  “May I join you, Centurion?”

  “You may, Caius.”

  Caius settled, and for a time, they ate quietly. A handful of other men had joined them, but none sat too close to where he and Caius were.

  “Tell me of your family, Caius.”

  Calpurnius monopolised much of the conversation when he was around, so Drusus would take this chance to learn more of Caius from his own lips. The desire Caius stirred in him had not wavered in the days since his arrival. Most nights Drusus took himself in hand to try to purge the lust. So far it had been frustratingly ineffective.

  “There are five of us left: my father, me, a younger sister, and two younger brothers. We lost our mother many years ago now. She died bringing my youngest brother into the world. We all work our farm, apart from Silius, who has left to train with the blacksmith. Farm life was never for him.”

  “And for you?”

  “I would have happily lived out my days amongst the beasts and the grain. The land soothes me, and the animals quiet my mind.” Caius’s gaze shot up with a look in his eyes as though he hadn’t meant to speak those words to Drusus, perhaps because Romans valued warriors not farmers.

  “It has been many years since I left my family’s farm, but I remember days spent amongst the beasts. I remember how the cows each had a special friend amongst the herd they would stand with each day and follow over the fields. I remember the bleat of the lambs each season, the care their mothers took with them. Animals do have a way of quieting your troubles and making you feel not so alone.” Drusus, too, would have happily lived his life quietly on his farm had he the choice.

  “Would you have stayed on your farm, Dru—Centurion?”

  “Call me Drusus when we are alone, Caius. My favourite times were spent on the rolling hills surrounding our farm, the cool breeze easing the heat of the day, the soft sounds of the animals that let you know you are not alone. Yes, I think I would have always stayed on the farm. It was a life that suited me.”

  “As does the life of a soldier, given your success.”

  Drusus was a good soldier, but he would not say he enjoyed the life. He’d merely adjusted to it. Twenty years was a long time to give to Roma, but all good citizens must, so Drusus had made the best of it. He sometimes wondered how his life would have been had he stayed on the farm. He would be married with little ones of his own he suspected, though he suffered no sadness that a life with a wife and children was lost to him. He was too old now to think of such things, at least he hoped. The thought of children did not unsettle him, but a wife was another matter, if only because he knew he’d never be able to give her the love his father had felt for his mother.

  “Soldiering is a life I have become good at, but not one I would have chosen, had I the choice.”

  Caius’s gaze was upon him; it was so intense it felt as if it were searing him. “What will you do upon retirement?”

  “I will go home. After twenty long years, I will go home.”

  “And find a wife?” Caius asked so softly Drusus almost did not hear him.

  “I think it unlikely,” he murmured in response.

  Drusus turned to Caius and caught his gaze. Desire shone clearly and brightly in Caius’s eyes. He believed this man would be his with a simple word, but Drusus was his centurion. He’d never lain with one of his legionaries since he’d risen to become a centurion. When he’d been a legionary, he’d bedded a few fellow soldiers, but it was different now because he was their superior. Those thoughts did not stop his fingers from itching to touch nor did they stop his cock from filling at the thought of having Caius.

  Drusus did not consider himself a coward, and yet he ran from Caius now—and it was not the first time. He excused himself and fled the company of Caius before he caved to his desires. He had little doubt he could have Caius, but even though he’d seen desire in his eyes, he would never be sure it was what Caius really wanted or that he believed he must succumb to his centurions wishes. He’d heard of other centurions abusing their power by f
orcing their attentions on men in their century, but Drusus was only interested in willing bedmates.

  Drusus poured himself a wine once he’d safely made it back to his room. Even after several years as a centurion, he was still often shocked by the space available to him. The room, of which he was the sole occupant, was of similar size to the bunkroom shared by eight legionaries, but it was his alone. Wall-to-wall, his room marked out close to nine paces, an abundance of space in comparison to what he was used to. This was not only where he laid his head for rest though; it also served as his office.

  He sat at his little desk with his wine and pulled out some of his records. The smell of smouldering ashes from the braziers comforted him as he read through his files. As optio, Marcus kept substantial records on all of the men, and Drusus often went over them, adding his own comments where needed. The Roman Army wanted meticulous records kept on each man.

  His hands went to Caius’s records as though of their own mind. Marcus had noted Caius’s skills, his devotion to his training, and his obedience. There were no mentions of discipline or punishment, and certainly Drusus had never had cause to use his vinis on the man. Caius Vitellius was not only beautiful, but he was a good man and soldier. How was Drusus expected to resist him? Why were the gods tempting him so?

  “Centurion,” the man called.

  “Enter, Caius.” Drusus remained seated as Caius entered the room and came to stand before his desk.

  “Apologies, Drusus. I did not mean to upset you earlier when I spoke of a wife.”

  “No apologies needed, Caius. You did not upset me. I merely had work to attend to—”

  “Oh. Forgive me. I interrupt you. I thought perhaps there’d been a woman… Apologies again. I will leave you.” Caius turned from him to exit and even though Drusus had fled from him moments ago, he suddenly could not stand the notion of Caius being out of sight. He never seemed to be able to unknot his mind whenever Caius was in reach. His emotions were as scrambled as his thoughts.