by Karrie Roman
“Caius,” he called, appalled by the desperation he heard in his voice. “A moment.”
Caius turned back to him. He was so very young, innocent. Drusus ached at the idea of the years of war and terror he had ahead of him.
“Wine?” Drusus offered.
“Gratitude, Drusus.” Caius took the offered wine Drusus poured for him and sipped at it. He sat in the wooden seat opposite Drusus.
Drusus watched as his gaze took in all the little trinkets he’d collected over the years and had displayed on his desk.
“There was no woman, ever. Not one I cared for,” Drusus murmured.
“Never?”
“No. I am a coward where my heart is concerned. I never gave it away for fear of losing it or having it shattered beneath another’s heel.”
“You have been alone, then, all these years?”
“I had the legionaries as my brothers. I have not been lonely.” Drusus tasted the lie on his tongue. For seventeen years he’d been constantly surrounded by others, but he’d been alone. “Did you have a wife?” Drusus asked and held his breath for the answer.
“No. Thank the gods. I would have needed to divorce her when I was conscripted, and that is a cruel fate.”
Drusus had encountered many men over the years who’d been forced to divorce their wives when they’d joined the legions. Most had been terribly saddened by it, but a handful had rejoiced they’d been able to escape from a woman they had no love for.
He should let the topic rest but Drusus’s curiosity would one day bite him. “Was there anybody special…?”
“No one. I’m afraid I had not much interest in women, but my brother Lucius makes up for me.” Caius smiled. His face changed with his grin making him appear even younger than he was. Drusus could not look away. “He is forever chasing women of the village.”
Silence settled between them as Drusus fought to not ask if his disinterest in women was due to a preference for men. That line of questioning was too dangerous for many reasons.
“Once we march out on the summer campaigns, there will be little time for you to think of much other than your duties. It is, perhaps, a good thing no woman—or man—clings to your mind.”
Caius watched him for a time. Drusus could tell the way he chewed at his lip he was calculating his words, judging what Drusus had suggested. In the end Caius settled for a simple nod.
“I should let you rest, Caius. Your optio will have you awaken at first light for another day of training. And Marcus has eyes of a hawk. He will notice the tiniest hint of tiredness and punish you for it.”
“Good night, Drusus.” Caius stood and once more turned from him, but this time he stopped at the doorway to Drusus’s room before looking over his shoulder at him. “There is one who clings to my mind, Drusus, and he is not the kind of man easily let go of.”
Drusus stood but could get no words out before Caius had left, leaving Drusus stunned to silence in his wake. Of whom had Caius been speaking? Was it Drusus himself, or was there another man who held his heart? The only question answered was Caius’s preference for men.
His eyes could hardly stay open, but his mind was racing. Drusus washed and readied himself for bed. He desperately hoped a few hours rest would clear his mind. His pallet was comfortable, especially to one used to sleeping on a bedroll on the ground, and yet as tired as he was, sleep did not come to him. He gave up and stood to pace his room instead.
After half the night had passed, Drusus could take no more. He fled his room to get some fresh air. As soon as he exited the barracks, he was aware he wasn’t alone in the cool night air. A man leant against the barrack wall not far from where he exited.
A quick glance told Drusus it was his brother, returned from guard duty.
“Trouble sleeping?” Calpurnius asked.
“Yes. You too?”
“Takes me a while to settle after being on watch. What is your reason?”
Drusus moved closer to his brother, leaning on the wall beside him. He was finding it difficult to accept that this grown man was the little boy he’d left behind so long ago. How did the men who’d left behind their own children manage?
How could he tell Calpurnius the reason his eyes refused to close was his best friend? “There is much on my mind, Cal. The campaigns, the men, you.”
“Me? Haven’t I proven you don’t need to worry about me, Dru?”
Drusus heard the hurt in Calpurnius’s voice. He hadn’t meant to sound as though he doubted Cal—because he didn’t. “Oh, Cal. I know you’re capable. You are a fine warrior, but so much can go wrong in battle. And you’ll always be my little brother.” He smirked and nudged his elbow into Cal’s hard body.
“I haven’t been a babe for a long time, Dru.” Calpurnius nudged back. “You don’t need the extra worry of me.”
“I worry about all of my men, Cal.”
“You are a good man. A good centurion. I am so pleased I am able to meet you again, Dru.”
They fell into silence for a time. Drusus watched the stars in the clear night sky, enjoying the closeness with his brother, the renewed use of their shortened names. Calpurnius appeared lost to his own thoughts. Drusus reminded himself to enjoy the time he had with his brother, because there was no guarantee how long it would last.
“Have you been happy, Drusus?”
The whispered question caught him by surprise. He’d never been asked if he was happy, had never considered his state of happiness before. He was a soldier in the Roman Legions. His life was marching and war. There was rarely time for joy, and Drusus had long ago lost the meaning of it.
“There have been times where I have not been unhappy.” It was the best answer Drusus could give. True happiness was not meant for a man trapped in the life of a soldier.
“Why did you not have a family? Many of the men have wives and children in the village. You should look for happiness, Dru. You deserve to have it. Mother always spoke of you. She’d tell me what a good man you were, and when I did something wrong, all she needed to say was ‘Drusus would not be pleased with you, Cal,’ and I was immediately ashamed of my actions.”
Drusus didn’t know what to say. He felt the thick lump in his throat as sadness for the years lost with his family brewed inside of him.
“You are exactly the man she told me, Dru, and I am proud to be your brother. Your men will follow you to the underworld to meet Pluto himself.” Calpurnius pushed off the wall and turned to look at him. In the moonlight his features appeared silver and gave him the look of some creature not of this world.
Drusus reached out and put his hand on Calpurnius’s shoulder, giving it a little squeeze. “Gratitude, Cal,” he murmured. “I am proud to have you as my brother. You will be a great warrior—better than I.”
Calpurnius grinned and nodded. “Perhaps—one day. Promise me you’ll look for happiness, Dru. You will be free of this life in three years, and I want you to be happy.”
In three short years, Drusus would be free, but Calpurnius—and Caius—had many long years in the legions before them, and the thought of that pained him. “I shall keep my eyes open for happiness, Cal, and pray the gods grant it to me.”
“Good enough, brother. Now, I must rest. Your optio is a hard taskmaster—and he gives me no favour because you are my brother,” Calpurnius sniffed as though outraged by this slight from Marcus, though Drusus knew Cal had demanded equal treatment from both him and Marcus.
“Perhaps you have not given him your best smile, Cal.”
“I do not think it is my smiles he seeks, Drusus—and Marcus is not alone in seeking your smiles, brother.” Calpurnius winked at him and walked away, leaving Drusus stunned in his wake.
Marcus looked at him fondly? How could that be? Drusus had never noticed, but apparently Calpurnius had. Drusus had known Marcus for many, many years. He’d thought he had been married before his conscription, and yet Cal thought Marcus wanted him. Cal must be misreading him. But who was the other of whom he sp
oke? Was it Caius? Did Cal know there was some attraction between his friend and his brother?
Drusus shook his head as though to shake his errant thoughts out. They were leaving their base soon. Drusus had no time for any notions other than about the coming campaign.
Chapter Four
“DRUSUS, COME SHARE a meal to celebrate our day off tomorrow,” Calpurnius called loudly to him as Drusus barely stuck his head out of the barracks. The men had forgone their rooms to dine under the stars again tonight and relish the heat of the approaching summer months.
Drusus waved and smiled at his brother to signal he would join him. He adored Cal as completely now as he had when he’d been a babe, appreciating every second with him. He piled his plate with bread and took a portion of the meat his men had cooked to celebrate their day of freedom tomorrow.
It was customary for each man to pay him some coin to be granted the day off, but Drusus was not fond of the practice so rarely charged his men. Other men in his cohort, and legion for that matter, knew of this and were envious. Many centurions charged their legionaries an exorbitant price for time away from their duties. Drusus took his payment in a well-cooked meal.
Once his plate was filled, Drusus took a seat beside Cal. His brother had fit in remarkably well with the rest of the century. His happy nature and lack of pride or greed made him popular with everyone. The other men who had arrived with Calpurnius had also managed to fit in though none were so well-liked as Cal. Fortunately they were all good men. Caius was the quietest of them with a tenderness to him that may have caused trouble had Caius not shown himself to be an exceptional warrior.
“What shall you do tomorrow, Drusus?” Cal asked.
In truth, Drusus hadn’t thought much about it. He rarely took time off from his duties. He saw no point to it. Most of the men would head into the nearby village to gamble or visit the brothels. Several of his men had formed attachments to local women, and indeed, some had families with them, so their day would be occupied with family duty. Drusus would likely spend his day alone.
“Nothing of what you will get up to, I am sure.” He smirked at Cal’s affronted expression.
“I am the very model of Roman ideals, I’ll have you know, brother.”
Drusus fought desperately to hold in his laughter, only losing the battle when Cal smirked at him. “So, you will sit quietly beneath a tree and read some histories? Or verse perhaps? No gambling, no women, no drink?”
“Well…” Calpurnius smirked, knowing Drusus had seen through him.
“Better to enjoy tomorrow, boy.” One of the men called out. “You’d hate to go to the afterlife never knowing a woman, youngster, and once we march out the women are sparse. Who knows what Germanic demons await us to send us on our way?”
“Yes, Brutus, but if I go into the village to find a woman, what will you do? I imagine the women there will be fighting to spend time with me rather than having to lay with a grizzled old man who struggles to harden his cock for them,” Cal shot back, to the laughter of those within hearing range.
Drusus joined in, delighted his brother was able to interact with the men with such ease, and they looked to hold him in such affection.
“I can perform, youngster. I’ll show you right now,” Brutus yelled and stood as though about to raise his tunic. His actions were met with boos and the men throwing food at him. Brutus laughed and continued to sway his hips about. It was times like this Drusus would miss when he left the legions. These men were as brothers to him, and he’d seen evidence many times that success in battle was due largely to the bond between them.
“Brutus, sit. Please. I am trying to keep down my meal,” Drusus shouted over the noise of his men. Several of them looked at him with shock. It was rare for him to engage in this behaviour with them. It was far more usual for him to sit quietly, watching and laughing at the antics of his men, or stay alone in his room.
“You wound me, Centurion. I thought I had kept my fine form,” Brutus light-heartedly called back, fondling his own torso as he did.
“You never had fine form, Brutus.” Somebody else responded.
“My form was fine enough when I slew those Dalmatians who were after your head, Priscus.”
“It was your fault they almost had my head. Your wine the night before had me seeing eight of them when there were but four,” Priscus replied, then turned to Calpurnius. “Never drink with this one on the eve of battle if you wish to keep your head.”
“I cannot be held to blame if you cannot hold your wine.” Brutus laughed and held his cup up to his friend.
“Hmm,” Priscus grumbled. “I’d have been better staying in bed with the glorious young man from the auxiliary rather than be led astray by you. Let that be a lesson to you.” He nodded toward Cal and Caius.
“You fought in the Pannonian war?” Caius asked.
“We went with Tiberius when he left Germania to quell the uprising until more men could be sent to fill the ranks of the Twentieth.” Brutus’s demeanour turned serious, pensive. “It was—still is—hard times for the men there. Bloody and vicious. We may be the mighty Roman Legions.” He looked fierce as he spoke. “But never underestimate a man defending his homeland.”
“Brutus is right. What we see in the coming campaign will be child’s play. Real war—up close fighting—is a nasty business. Seeing your friends hacked to pieces, half their faces gone, replaced with a gaping hole. You will be lucky if our encounters do not turn to such. We will mostly be able to use our javelins, which keeps much of the horror at a distance for our enemy to deal with. Up close…war is the stuff of nightmares,” Priscus added.
“But never fear, young Cal, if you are half the warrior your brother is, no harm will come to your pretty face.” Brutus winked and laughed, dispelling the gloom that had fallen over them.
Drusus was happy to sit back now and watch as his men continued to chatter. His gaze soon came to rest on Caius, who sat quietly beside Cal for the meal. He was watching Brutus and some of the others as they continued trading barbs, the hint of a smile on his handsome face. Caius did not laugh as freely and often as Calpurnius, but even so, he seemed to be of a happy nature. Drusus easily believed him preferring the company of animals and little ones to the raucousness of soldiers. As good a fighter as Caius was, Drusus knew life in the legions would be hard for one with a tender heart. It was one thing to stab a block of wood and quite another to pierce the flesh of a man.
“Cal, will you be going into the village tomorrow?” Drusus asked seriously this time.
“Yes, brother. And you?”
“I have not decided. I will go to the bathhouse first, before the soldier’s crowd it in the afternoon, and then I think I may wander into the village to see what new trinkets they might have. What of you, Caius?”
Caius had turned to watch the brothers talk and Drusus took the opportunity to discover what his plans were. He suspected Caius would tag along with Calpurnius, but he thought he would get little to no enjoyment from it. Caius seemed neither the gambling nor the whoring type.
“I am uncertain, Drusus,” Caius quietly replied.
“You will go with Cal into the village?” Drusus pressed.
“I think Cal would rather not have me there. He has told me often enough I am a wet blanket to his fun. I prefer to keep my coins than lose them at a game of chance.” Caius leaned in a little closer, whispering in Drusus’s ear, “Nor am I fond of the brothels. I need—” Caius suddenly cut himself off and pulled away from him, leaving Drusus to wonder what he needed.
“My sweet little Caius,” Cal nuzzled into Caius’s throat, laughing as Caius squirmed away from him.
“Cal is in need of a woman when he drinks too much, Drusus. He becomes terribly fond of embracing anyone close by.” Caius laughed. His face was flushed in the firelight. Drusus thought him adorable. He didn’t envy many, but right then Drusus envied his brother the intimate friendship he shared with Caius.
“Centurion, Varus commands your
presence,” a panting soldier called as he approached the group of dining men.
Drusus stood immediately, somewhat relieved to be able to escape his jealousy over Caius. He nodded at his men and followed the soldier. Though not in complete uniform, he was sufficiently dressed to attend Varus when called urgently.
He approached the praetorium, eyeing the guards as he did. He was known to them, so they allowed his passage without incident. As he entered Varus’s meeting room, he observed most, if not all, centurions were present along with the Decurios. Also in attendance were Segestes of the Cherusci tribe and his son-in-law Arminius, who along with his father led another faction of the Cherusci. The two men did not appear to like each other despite their relationship through marriage. Drusus had heard word Arminius married Segestes’s daughter against his wishes.
Arminius had served Roma for many years and had been made a citizen of Equestrian class in the lower ranks of nobility. His honorary nobility suited him well. Arminius was tall and well-built, and he carried himself with an air of self-importance. He was a foreigner with higher status than Drusus himself, but he tried not to let it rankle.
Drusus was used to seeing these men of the Germanic tribes with Varus. The Governor believed the Cherusci and other tribal leaders followed him unquestioningly and were committed to cooperation with Roma. Indeed, many tribesmen marched with them during their campaign as part of the auxiliary, but Drusus believed it unwise to rely too much on men whose people had essentially been defeated and subjugated by the Romans.
Not that anyone cared for his opinion, but Drusus thought Varus was trying to force Roman change too rapidly on the tribes of Germania. The increase in taxes Varus would be enforcing this summer was also bound to cause further resentment amongst the Germans. He wasn’t as assured of the Cherusci cooperation, particularly from the young, proud Arminius. He certainly did not think Varus was wary enough of him.