by Karrie Roman
Drusus felt guilt that his brother had watched him run—without him—but he knew there had been little else to be done at the time. Drusus would have reached for Cal if he could, but his arms were wrapped tightly around Caius, holding his body to his own.
“Gratitude, Cal. I neither heard nor saw you.”
“What will we do now, Dru? Perhaps we can make it back to Haltern.”
Drusus had been thinking about their next steps for some time, and he’d ruled out a return to Haltern. “No, Cal. Not Haltern. If Arminius is the man I suspect him to be, he’ll use his victory here to bolster his forces and march on Haltern. Though few are there, overrunning a Roman base will be an added triumph. We will make for Vetera.”
“Centurion is correct, Calpurnius. We must bypass Haltern and make for the safety of Vetera. Though I ask leave to make for Haltern to warn them of what comes,” Marcus said from the branch slightly above them.
Drusus hated the idea of Marcus breaking off to make for Haltern, but he knew it was what must be done. “Very well, Marcus. When we are close to Haltern, take Brutus and Quintus and get to Haltern. But for now, let us take rest.”
He leaned back against the trunk of the tree pulling Caius with him. His lover hardly stirred. Drusus closed his eyes, allowing himself to rest but not sleep—being a soldier for so many years had taught him the art. Soon enough it would be dark, and they would make their escape.
A handful of the Germanic tribesmen wandered beneath them during the day, but Fortuna had finally found them. They were not spotted high in the branches as they were. Occasionally, a scream wrought through the silence of the day. The enemy was sacrificing their prisoners. If theirs was a quick death they would be the lucky ones, but Drusus suspected there was nothing swift about the manner the barbarians were dispatching their legionary captives.
Drusus held tight to Caius, thanking the gods they were still among the living and free—at least for now.
Chapter Fourteen
THEY WAITED FOR some time after sunset before they dropped from the trees. The sky had been covered with deep grey clouds all day, and those clouds now hid the light of the moon and stars, leaving Drusus’s group to find their way in absolute darkness. It was both comforting and terrifying. They would be impossible to spot, but they could also step right on top of an enemy before they would even know they were there.
It was too risky to light a torch, so Drusus had them walk single file behind him, each man holding the tunic of the one in front. Caius was directly behind him, so Drusus set his pace accordingly as his lover struggled with each step. Calpurnius was behind Caius, and Drusus often heard him whispering words of encouragement whenever Cal had to halt the other man’s stumble. Caius should be with a medicus receiving care, but instead, he was stranded in this inhospitable land barely able to hold a gladius in his good hand and struggling just to keep to his feet. Drusus thanked the gods for the hard shell Caius had around his gentle inside.
Drusus needed to slowly feel his way so he did not walk head first into a tree or his men into a pit. He used the one shield they had between them for protection as he carefully trudged through the trees in what he hoped was the right direction.
He would march his men for much of the night, trying to put as much distance between them and the rebellious Germanic tribesmen as they could manage.
For as long as he dared, Drusus marched them until he allowed them rest. His heart ached for Caius, whose breaths had become more laboured, and who faltered more frequently as his pain wore on his strength, but Drusus knew his heart would ache far worse if he allowed the barbarians to catch them.
They sat beside a small stream Drusus had stumbled into, drinking from it and cleaning the evidence of their labours from their brow. The darkness did not allow Drusus to see well enough to attend to Caius’s wounds. He touched the cloth he’d wrapped around the wound, and while it was damp in places, it was not sodden. Drusus had to believe that meant the bleeding had at last eased.
Caius sat quietly against the trunk of a tree while Drusus tended to him. From the occasional hitch of his breath, Drusus could tell he was in considerable pain. There was no opium or mandrake to give him for relief. Drusus did not often turn to the gods—he’d always found them to be fickle with their blessings—but he asked them now if they’d give him Caius’s pain to bear.
“Caius?” he whispered, “How do you fare?”
There was silence for a time, and Drusus heard his lover breathing heavily as though gathering the strength just to reply. “I am well.”
“Beautiful liar.” Drusus pressed forward until his lips found Caius. He gently kissed his lover’s nose. “Perhaps we should rest here awhile.” He should not have allowed the thought past his lips.
Caius’s reply was predictably irritated. “We are not far enough from our enemies, Drusus, and I am not a weakling. I need only to rest a moment.”
“Apologies, beloved. I did not mean… It is only for care of you that I worry so.”
“I know. Forgive me, Dru.”
Drusus would have given anything to be able to see Caius’s face, but he contented himself with listening to his breaths as they evened out into sleep.
Cal was suddenly beside him. How he knew it was his brother in this hostile darkness he did not know, but he knew immediately that it was Calpurnius’s hand resting on his knee.
“Is he well, Dru?” Calpurnius asked.
“As well as he can be with three digits gone, Cal.” Drusus regretted the bitterness in his tone as he answered his brother—none of this was Calpurnius’s fault. “Apologies, brother. Fault does not lie with you. Caius does well. He is strong and brave and—”
“Dear to you?”
“Dearer to me than my own heart, Cal, and that is your fault.”
Calpurnius chuckled a moment and then fell silent again. There was so much living for Calpurnius to do, and Drusus wanted to be there for it. An impossible dream but he dreamt it just the same.
“You put blame on me for your happiness? I can live with that, Drusus.”
“Shall I blame you also when my heart withers and dies when I am parted from him?” Drusus laughed a little so Calpurnius knew he was in jest. Calpurnius had been right though. Regardless of the pain to come from their separation, Drusus would be glad of his time with Caius until the end of his days.
“You are welcome. It brings me joy to see you together. So happy, such love between you. It is what I wish for myself one day,” Cal murmured.
“Pray the gods you find it,” Drusus murmured. “But how do you manage, Cal? Are your wounds troubling you?”
“Not more so than anyone else’s. None of us were spared the barbarian blades. Such loss, Dru…”
“Too much loss. And all of it needless.”
They were both quiet as Drusus allowed his thoughts to wander briefly to the men who had been killed over the last two days. Good, decent Romans who deserved better from the fates—who had deserved better from their governor and general.
“There is no blame on you, brother,” Calpurnius murmured. “You did your best.”
“My best was far from enough, Cal. Three legions—the fiercest in the empire—lay dead at the feet of barbarians. The cavalry, auxiliary, the families of the men—all dead. I knew. I knew this evil was coming for us, but I could not stop it.” Guilt churned in his guts until finally settling like a giant boulder he would always carry with him. For just a moment, he envied Varus for escaping into the afterlife rather than standing and facing the wretchedness of survival in the face of such defeat.
“Drusus, you did all you could. The only man who could have saved us, instead marched us right into the mouth of Tartarus. Varus as good as sailed his men across the River Styx himself.” Cal reached over and squeezed Drusus’s knee in supplication. “Do not carry that man’s shame, Drusus. It is not yours to bear.”
Drusus wished he believed Cal. Perhaps one day he might, but not yet. He would wear shame and guilt on a hea
vy chain around his neck for some time to come. Though he must not allow it to get in the way of saving these men now. He would not—could not—lose another.
After he was sure the men had rested enough, but not too long, Drusus had them on their feet again. They marched single file as they had before until the first light of the sun began to peak through the canopy of the trees.
Caius had not managed as well after they had taken their rest. Drusus knew his wound was wearying him badly. Had they the time, he would have had the men make a litter upon which they could carry him, but Drusus would not risk slowing down until more distance was between them and the scene of their disaster.
“We will halt here for rest. Marcus and Priscus, take the watch. Calpurnius and Quintus the next. Brutus and I will take the last. We will leave when the sun is high above us and continue until nightfall. With luck, we will find somewhere we can bed down tonight in something akin to safety.”
His men nodded, too weary for much more of a response. They quickly took refreshment from the stream they followed before those not on watch bedded down as comfortably as they could.
Drusus approached Caius, who was already curled on his good side with his eyes closed. “I would tend your wound, beloved,” he murmured. He watched a shiver slide through Caius’s body at the thought, but he kept his eyes closed and nodded.
He unwound the cloth that had been wrapped around Caius’s hand and arm. The wound had been bleeding but not for some time, given that the blood was now dried, the cloth fastened to his skin. Drusus tipped some water he’d brought back from the stream over the wound to help ease the cloth away from skin. Caius still flinched and winced when Drusus tugged it clear. He poured the remainder of the water over Caius’s hand.
Though he’d seen many wounds in his time in the legions, and far worse than Caius’s, the sight of the disfigured hand turned his stomach. Drusus bit at his lip to prevent the water he’d so recently consumed from being expelled. He was sickened at the sight. The hand that had once held him and trailed fingers so tenderly over his body was a bloody mess. The stumps of the missing fingers that had once sifted gently through his hair were a ruin of torn flesh and bone. Drusus swallowed a sob at the sight.
“I can work well enough with one hand,” Caius mumbled. In his own grief over Caius’s injury Drusus had forgotten how the owner of the ruined arm must be feeling.
Such a strong, lively man might naturally feel his worth would be lessened after a wound such as this. “Of that I have no doubt, Cai,” Drusus replied, eager to echo Caius’s words. “You are stronger than most. You will adapt. You will…”
“All is well,” Caius whispered. “All is well.”
Drusus allowed a tear to fall. He was disgusted that Caius was the one to soothe him, but it could not be helped. He was distraught. Not just by what had befallen Caius but with what lay ahead of them. They were still a great distance from safety. He found it hard just to think upon what was still to come.
“Forgive me. It is I who should be a comfort to you. I forget myself.”
“You carry a heavy burden, Drusus. I would help you bear it.” Such simple, honest support from the man he loved more deeply than he thought possible.
The moment almost pulled more tears from him, but there would be time for that later. Drusus could not allow his tender feelings to cost them their lives. He must focus on their safety.
He finished washing and rewrapping the cloth around the damaged arm before settling his fatigued body beside Caius. He wrapped his arms around his lover, his nose resting amongst Caius’s hair and allowed himself to drift away surrounded by Caius’s scent as he had done so many times before.
When Quintus woke him for his watch sometime later, the sun was not high in the sky. He eased himself away from Caius’s still-sleeping form and wordlessly walked toward Brutus who was already up and on guard.
“How do you fare, Brutus?”
Brutus never turned his eyes from their constant track of the surrounding woods when he answered. “I am well, Centurion. How is your boy?”
“He is in much pain, but he is strong.”
“Like an ox. I think the gods must lift his feet for him. He is a good match for you.”
Drusus smiled. “Gratitude, Brutus. We are a good match for each other.”
They fell silent for a time, their gazes searching for any sign of their enemy. It seemed they had made their escape, but Drusus knew this country. It was filled with tribes haphazardly placed all over the countryside. They would need to take care not to encounter any tribesmen. They could trust no one while they remained in Germania.
The sun rose higher and higher, and soon it would be time to wake the others and continue their march. Drusus knew they needed food in their empty bellies though. They had been fortunate with the stream, so their thirst was easily quenched, but Drusus’s belly called loudly for food as though to make sure he had not forgotten.
“Your stomach speaks how we all feel, Centurion,” Brutus commented when his stomach spoke louder and louder.
“Yes. We must find food, Brutus.”
“We can eat the moss that surrounds the trees until we come across something more palatable.”
“The moss?” Drusus asked, askance, his gaze flicking to the green coverage that surrounded them.
“It tastes like piss, but it will do no harm, and it will fill our bellies,” Brutus replied in a tone that suggested Drusus was some kind of fool for not knowing this.
“You have eaten it before?”
“Many times. I grew up poor and hungry. My mother often told us the lie that rich Romans paid a lot of coin to eat the moss that grew so freely around our home. It made us think we were far more special than we were because we could eat it for free whenever we wished while the fools in Roma paid a fortune for it. We ate it happily despite the taste.” Brutus smiled fondly, and Drusus wondered if he was remembering his lost family.
Drusus couldn’t help but laugh at Brutus’s mother’s ploy. “Your mother was a clever woman.”
“Much too clever. We never could fool her.” Brutus harrumphed and continued, “I will collect some and take it to the stream to wash. You do not want to eat the dirt or the bugs and worms that make a home in it.”
Drusus watched him walk away, stopping frequently to pull clumps of moss from the forest floor. Brutus had been under his command for several summers. He was usually one of the more good-humoured of his men and always willing to talk, and yet that was the first time he’d ever heard the man mention his family. What an awful crime for Roma to take her sons so far from their families for too many long years.
Drusus turned to rouse his companions from their rest. Most woke easily at his approach, yawning, stretching and looking about them. Drusus easily read on their faces the exact moment the contentment of sleep left them, and they remembered their fate.
Caius looked so young and peaceful as he slept when Drusus approached that he stood over him just watching. He loved this man so deeply Drusus imagined if the flesh were torn from him they would find Caius’s name carved into his heart. He knelt and pressed a gentle kiss to Caius’s soft lips.
With a low moan, Caius’s eyes fluttered open. The pain must have been upon him immediately on waking, for his forehead creased, and he winced audibly.
“Are you in much pain?” Drusus asked despite knowing the answer.
“It is bearable. Do not worry over me, Drusus. I will make it.”
“Sooner ask me to stop the sun from rising than to stop worrying over you, Caius.” He smirked. Were roles reversed, he knew Caius would be just as frantic with concern as Drusus was.
“Very well. Worry then, but I will not let you down, Dru.”
“That time will never come. Now, let me help you to your feet. You must have need of a piss, and Brutus is making us a fine meal of moss and lichen.” Drusus infused his words with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. He knew a meal of forest floor covering would do little to inspire the me
n’s strength or confidence.
“Moss?” Caius questioned as Drusus hooked him under his arm and helped him to stand. “That sounds…appetising.”
“Imagine it is the finest pheasant in all of Roma that we are dining on. It may aid in swallowing.”
“I will imagine it is the finest boar,” Calpurnius added, having obviously overheard them.
“And mine will be the tastiest bit of rump from the fattest cow,” Marcus said.
“We will dine on all of those once we are returned to Vetera. It will be my treat,” Drusus said.
“Of course it will be your bloody treat, Centurion. You make far more coin than the rest of us poor bastards,” Quintus finished with a clap to Drusus’s shoulder.
As he looked about his men while they dressed and stretched, he noticed many of them carried heavy bruises and scabbed-over wounds. They must be hurting, and yet none complained. He felt the honour of having them with him. He would do whatever it took to see them all safely home.
Brutus returned with his meal offering just as they had finished dressing and preparing for the day. They each reached for some of the moss Brutus carried in his cloak. Drusus looked around at his men who were all looking at the moss as though it may reach out and bite them instead—apart from Brutus. He was already chewing with a slight smile and reaching for more.
Drusus put a small amount to his tongue and chewed. It was bitter, with a biting taste that caused his eyes to blink and water, but he had tasted worse. He’d once eaten dormice without honey, and while he loved meat, the taste of the small rodent without the sweetness of the honey had left him blanching and politely declining more.
“It is um…not so bad,” Caius said, his face twisting to show the lie.
“Surely, you jest. It is worse than your garum, Caius,” Calpurnius spat.
Caius burst into laughter, the sound a tonic to Drusus’s heavy heart. Caius could wage war as well as the next legionary, but he was a man who should always be laughing so freely and merrily. He should have a quiet, peaceful life amongst his beloved animals. Death and destruction were not for Caius Vitellius.