Sons of Rome

by Karrie Roman

  He held his hand down to Caius, who took it easily. He helped Caius to his feet and then helped settle him into the bed. Even with his great plans for this bed, they had ended up on the floor.

  Caius looked so warm and safe lying there with his arms open for Drusus that the sight caught his breath. Drusus tossed the cloth and settled into the bed beside Caius. Strong arms wrapped around him, and Drusus basked in the sensation. It wasn’t long before he heard Caius’s soft snores in his ear, his body gone soft and pliant with sleep.

  Drusus had known for a long time how he felt about Caius. To see him here, safe and happy, only confirmed there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do to ensure he was always that way.

  Chapter Twenty

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Drusus and his men were once again summoned before Emperor Augustus. They were ushered into the same large, extravagantly decorated room as yesterday. Augustus was already there, waiting in an ornate chair, his hair dishevelled, and the shadows beneath his eyes darker. Drusus imagined the emperor had again not slept at all.

  Beside Augustus stood a young man of maybe fifteen summers. His fine robes announced him as one from the patrician class. He was neither handsome nor ugly, tall nor short, boy nor man. Indeed, he seemed doomed to mediocrity. There was little remarkable about the youth other than the fact he wore a younger version of a face Drusus knew well.

  “Ah, Centurion, enter. Bring your men,” Augustus greeted them. He ushered them forward until they stood before him while he remained seated. This would be a far more formal meeting than yesterday.

  “This is Publius Quinctilius Varus the Younger. He has come to hear for himself the tale of his father from one who was there.”

  Drusus flicked a glance at the young man, boy, really. What could he—should he—say about his father? If he was going to be truthful, he would shout at the youth that his father got them all killed, that his father’s stupidity and stubbornness led to the deaths of three of Roma’s finest legions, tens of thousands of men—good, hard-working warriors who gave everything for Roma and got nothing but a miserable death in return.

  “Tell me, Centurion,” the Younger commanded, his tone dripping with the condescension Drusus had come to expect from the noble classes. “Tell me of my father’s death.”

  Drusus chose his words carefully. He knew in his gut this boy did not want the truth, and he suspected giving it to him would be bad for Drusus and his men. Varus’s family, like many others, would likely not shrink from doing what they must to cover up any shame that might fall upon them.

  “Your father fought bravely and with great honour. Once all was lost, he fell upon his sword rather than allowing the barbarians to take him.”

  “How could three legions possibly be defeated by barbarians?” The boy’s tone was ice. Drusus would have liked nothing better than telling him what a fool his father had been, but it had clearly never occurred to him that his father might in some way be responsible for the disaster.

  Drusus cast a quick glance to Augustus. Caesar knew the truth, but did he want this boy to know? Augustus’s face told him nothing, so he guessed that this boy at least should not see Varus as the villain.

  “Arminius set his trap well. We were herded into a narrow pass. When the attack came, there was little we could do.” Drusus swallowed and fought hard not to choke on his next words. “Varus was a great commander, but it was of no use. We were surrounded, outnumbered, trapped, the land itself on Arminius’s side.”

  Varus the Younger’s gaze never wavered from Drusus. Intelligence burned in his young eyes, and Drusus wondered if he had been believed at all. Maybe he would choose to believe Drusus despite any doubts he might hold, easier to convince himself his father was a good man than to face the truth that he was responsible for the deaths of thousands.

  He did not know what more to say. He was a warrior not a politician. Drusus had the distinct impression he had been drawn into a game, one he did not understand the rules for. Marcus would have, the memory of his optio slamming its fist into his chest. If he were here, he’d understand what each of these powerful men required of him.

  Roma and its citizens may consider itself the civilized centre of the world, but Drusus could not wait to get out of its streets of intrigue and plotting. He was not one for games and valued truth over pandering to a patrician’s ego.

  “So, you see, Varus, your father did all he could. Come, let us share a meal in his honour.” Augustus wrapped an arm around the younger Varus’s shoulder, ushering him toward the peristyle. “Julius has set quite a banquet for you. I will join you shortly,” he finished, handing off Varus to one of the waiting slaves. The Younger was taken through the portieres that had been drawn to close off the tablinum, disappearing from sight, to Drusus’s relief.

  “What of you and your men?” Augustus asked.

  “If we are not needed, Caesar, we will take our pay and be on our way.” Drusus wasn’t sure what plans his men had, but either way, they couldn’t stay long in Augustus’s villa. He would make sure they got their release documents, pay, and land. After that…well they were men and could make their own way to freedom or back to Vetera.

  Augustus looked each of them over, his gaze lingering on Thumelicus, and Drusus held his breath. The most powerful man in the world held their lives in his hand. Drusus was certain they’d be allowed to leave but with a man such as Augustus, a man who had been declared the father of his country, a man who thought of himself as divine, one could never be sure what to expect. Augustus’s mind was understood only by Augustus.

  “Julius will see to the details. Ensure this barbarian leaves the city with you. Gratitude, again, for your service to Roma.” Augustus stood and left, almost as though he had never been.

  Drusus turned to his men, who all wore similar expressions of bewilderment. Augustus was a difficult man to understand.

  “We are dismissed,” Brutus quipped. “You know, I thought the mighty Augustus would be taller.”

  Drusus smothered a laugh, as did the others. Brutus’s mouth would get him either killed or greatly loved long before a barbarian blade would take him from this world.

  Julius entered the room and led them into a smaller chamber off the peristylium. A decorative lamp added to the light coming in from the open roof of the courtyard. A large yew desk took up much of the space along with shelves overflowing with rolled up parchments. The walls were decorated with images from the legions, men decked out in legionary armour, javelins, shields or gladii in hand, snarls on their faces, no sign of defeat in their eyes or stance. The room was clearly an office.

  “Caesar has given each of you fifteen heredium of land in the north. You will also be given twelve thousand sesterces each, except you, Centurion, who will be given one hundred thousand. That is your retirement bonus,” Julius spoke as he rifled through parchments, eventually pulling a handful from under what looked like a large ledger book.

  “Caesar is generous,” Brutus said when no one else spoke. In truth, they were each getting ten times their yearly pay with the exception of Drusus who was only getting five times his yearly twenty thousand sesterces pay. He would not be complaining.

  Julius looked at Brutus as though sizing up his worth. Finally, he responded, “Caesar is…devastated by what occurs in the forests of Germania. He dreamt of some ill omens in the weeks leading up to the disaster but never imagined such news would come. He fears this may be the beginning of Germanic tribes trying to invade Augustus’s empire. For the first time, he has doubted Roma’s invincibility.” A bold admission from Augustus’s tribune.

  Drusus believed in the gods, but after years in the legions he had learned to ignore omens and trust himself. Superstition held little use for him.

  “He cares for his people,” Julius added.

  Did he care enough? Roma was still engaged in conquests for new lands, ever attempting to extend its borders regardless of the cost. Perhaps after the loss of his legions Augustus would rethink his strategy.<
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  “Will you stay another night?”

  “No. Gratitude, Julius, but we are eager to be on our way,” Drusus answered.

  “Understandable. Well, here are your papers giving you ownership of the land. Your coin will be here shortly. I have sent for it from Augustus’s personal treasury. I will order your horses readied.”

  “Gratitude,” they all mumbled.

  Julius merely bowed before slipping from the room. Drusus reached for one of the parchments. He hadn’t had much of an education in his youth, but his father had engaged tutors to at least ensure he could read. He quickly scanned the document. Everything Julius had said was true. This parchment gave ownership of fifteen heredium of land not far from Arretium to Brutus.

  It felt wrong to consider them fortunate after what they’d been through, yet they were. They could easily be lying dead in a dark, malevolent forest of Germania, surrounded by enemies, their bodies desecrated and left to rot. Instead they were free of the Roman army, had land of their own and money to spare. Drusus would give anything for Marcus to be here with them.

  No one seemed to know what to say as they stood awkwardly and quietly together. Drusus handed each parchment to its owner and then looked around at his men.

  “I cannot find words,” he said.

  “I can,” Brutus replied. “Let us be gone from this place and find ourselves a nice woman or two to spend some of our coin on.” He winked at the group, his smirk firmly in place.

  For a moment, they were silent, then they laughed—perhaps the first genuine laughter from them since before the disaster.

  “No brothel for me, Brutus,” Drusus said. “I am going to get as far toward home as I can before the sun sets on this day. I long to see my mother.”

  “Ugh, you never were much fun, Centurion. Go on, then. I’ll wager the two youngsters will be following on your tail.”

  “I wish to see home, also. I have not been away long but I miss my family.” Caius’s words answered Drusus’s question. They hadn’t really discussed their immediate movements now they were free, but Drusus had hoped it would be together.

  “I should go too.” Calpurnius seemed hesitant. Drusus knew he was conflicted but coming home with him was a good step, far better than wanting to immediately return to the legions.

  “This will be farewell, then,” Priscus added. “We are heading for my land. Brutus stays with the whores, you three head for home and Quintus? I imagine you are headed back to Vetera.”

  “I am,” Quintus answered with his usual simplicity. He would return to the legions a rich man with Augustus allowing him his retirement pay as reward.

  “Well,” Drusus began. He was no good at moments like these, often blowing by them in his haste for them to be over. “Gratitude, men, for everything you did. Your sacrifices, your suffering—”

  “We know, Centurion.” Quintus slapped him on the shoulder and gave him the hint of a smile.

  “As beautiful as you are, Centurion, it is a woman’s fine form I long for. Let us say only I will see you again and be on our way,” Brutus added. If Drusus didn’t know better, he would think the big, grizzled man had a tear in his eye.

  They slapped one another’s backs and gripped wrists, murmuring a few goodbyes, and then they walked away. Watching men he had spent such difficult times with walk away gave Drusus an odd feeling. He hoped he would see them again, but for now, he wanted to be on the road home.

  Barely a minuta later, Drusus led Caius and Calpurnius past the Castra Praetoria and out of the city. Behind the walls of the castra Drusus heard the unmistakeable sound of Praetorians being drilled. The roar of their centurions ordering them this way and that was comfortingly familiar but something Drusus was unlikely to hear again.

  “Will you miss it, Dru?” Caius asked as the noise faded.

  “My brother will certainly miss bossing people around,” Cal quipped.

  “I will not miss it. Besides, I have too much to look forward to.” Drusus squeezed Caius’s hand.

  “Ugh, will you two behave in this manner the entire way home?”

  Caius tilted his head back and laughed, just like he had so many months ago in Vetera, when he’d been so young and untouched by the horrors of war. He was as stunning now as he was then—maybe more so.

  IT TOOK THEM four days to reach land Drusus recognised as his home. As they crested a small hill, for the first time in twenty years, Drusus cast his gaze upon a valley as familiar to him as his own hand. He picked out his favourite trees he liked to climb as a boy. He easily spotted the little pond tucked in a copse of trees, where he used to cool off on those long hot summer days. He knew, if he turned a little to his left, he would see the little dwelling his father had built many years ago, where Drusus had spent such a happy childhood.

  He imagined his mother kneeling in her garden right now, dirt up to her elbows, a smudge of brown across her cheek from wiping at her face. She had always loved her garden with its colourful flowers and sweet scents. He tried to imagine what she looked like now after almost twenty years. She had always been beautiful, but would time have ravaged her?

  “Come on, Dru,” Calpurnius interrupted his thoughts. “Stop dreaming and let us get home.”

  Calpurnius gently kicked at the flanks of his horse spurring the powerful creature on. He threw a grin over his shoulder at Drusus and then was gone. Drusus watched as man and beast thundered down the hillside, kicking up tufts of grass and dirt as they went.

  “Are you well?” Caius asked as he pulled alongside. He had grown quite adept at riding one-handed over the weeks since they’d left Vetera. Drusus expected Caius would take to all the tasks he must now perform one-handed with the same skill. Caius had proven himself one of those hard to defeat types, thank the gods.

  “I am not sure I am really here, Cai,” Drusus answered without any concealment of his true thoughts. “I have dreamt of coming home so often. I cannot be certain this is real.”

  “It is real.” Caius smiled at him, then winked before spurring his horse onward to chase after Calpurnius.

  Drusus watched him fondly as he tore down the hillside. He was such a sight to behold as he sat proudly upon his mount, his hair streaming behind him after letting it grow far longer than the legions allowed, his powerful thighs gripping the chestnut beast. Drusus’s cock stirred and he quickly turned his thoughts to Brutus—it would not do to meet his mother again after all these years with a hard cock.

  Drusus followed his lover. He let his horse have its head, content to meander through the valley at an even pace. He looked around him as he went, memories of his youth claiming him as he passed recognised spots. Caius had told him this was real, but it did not seem possible. After so long away, he hardly dared to imagine he’d made it safely home, especially after the Varus disaster.

  His horse danced across the stream cutting through the valley floor. Drusus gently urged it onwards so it would make it up the moderately sloping hill his family home stood upon.

  Even before he saw anyone, he heard laughter. Cal’s high-pitched chuckle, Caius’s deep, throaty laugh and a softer, sweeter, more feminine tinkle he recognised immediately as belonging to his mother.

  Then suddenly she was there before him, not ten paces from his reach. A pale-coloured tunic wrapped around her tiny frame, a shock of greying hair hanging loosely about her shoulders. When she turned to him, her fiery, intelligent eyes still glowed with life. She looked almost exactly as he remembered, only slightly frailer and more lined. She was absolutely beautiful.

  “My Drusus,” she choked out. She held her arms out to him.

  Drusus spared no time leaping from his horse and rushing into her arms. She felt tiny, but she was warm and solid. She smelled of olive oil and farm life, as she always had. Drusus had finally come home.

  Epilogue

  THE WARM BREEZE blew in from the north bringing with it the first taste of summer. For the first time in months, Caius stood at the door to his home as naked as the day
he had entered this world. Drusus had left their bed a while ago, eager to get on with the job of cutting the wood they would need to complete their home.

  Caius watched him as he toiled at the edge of the clearing, his thick muscles bunching as he hefted his axe, bringing it down with a powerful swing. Even from this distance, Caius could see the muscles of Drusus’s back, the way his calves tightened with each movement. Never had he seen anything more mesmerizing, more incredibly beautiful than his Drusus.

  The last few months, since arriving from Roma, were like something from his dreams. Drusus’s mother, Agrippina, treated him as one of her own sons; his family had accepted his choice to live with Drusus and farm together. It helped that they had gained a son in Calpurnius, who had wasted no time in marrying his sister, any notion of him returning to the legions wiped out with one of her smiles.

  He turned to go back inside to throw on a tunic and help Drusus.

  “Do not move,” Drusus’s deep voice carried to him on the wind. They were no longer centurion and legionary, but when Drusus used that voice, Caius could do nothing but obey. Caius froze.

  He heard the crunch of Drusus’s feet as he approached. Caius let the shiver rip through him as his lover’s warm breath ghosted over his skin.

  “Do you mean to tease me, Cai?” Drusus’s lips were pressed to his throat, his words muffled against his skin. One of Drusus’s big hands trailed down his side before resting protectively on his hip. “Do you have any idea how tempting you looked standing there?”

  “Mm,” Caius moaned as Drusus’s tongue flicked at his ear. “I am in need of a bath.”

  “The water in the stream is warm already. Will you join me?”

  How could Caius ever say no to such an offer? Behind their home, away from prying eyes, there was a small pond where they sometimes washed now that the days were warming up.