Christopher Buckner - Swords of Rome

“Carthage?” Gaius’ mind drifted.

“Where are they?” Gaius asked.

“Africa, to the west of Egypt and Numidia. They aren’t too different than us, in many ways: akin government, similar heritage, related customs, yet, we couldn’t be more different either. Both Carthage and Rome seek to control the Mediterranean, but they have a superior navy and trade than we, at least they did before the war.”

“Is that why Rome went to war with Carthage?”

“Who can guess: land, wealth, greed, or two fat men who couldn’t come to an understanding. All I know is, young men like your father, and I was called to service, to fight and to kill men we’ve never met or seen until then. The why wasn’t important when we fought to stay alive.”

“So the war made you friends, finally?” Gaius asked.

“Yes, it did,” Valerius smiled, as Gaius seemly cheered up in knowing that his father hadn’t damned him to one of his enemies.

“You see, Gaius, all those years your father, and I fought one another, made both of us strong men, better than most. We quickly realized that alone we were powerful men, but when we were together, we were nearly unstoppable. We lost many friends during the war, most we trained with our entire adult life, but always we were there for each other — he protecting my back, and I his.

Gaius smiled at the thought of seeing in his mind, his father in his prime, battling wave after wave of enemy barbarians with Valerius by his side. What a sight the two must have been, true heroes of Rome; champions like those he acted with Antony.

The two were silent for a moment as Valerius’ own thoughts drifted to his youth with Julius and their many adventures together. And then after several quiet minutes he broke the silence, his voice now low and somber as he felt compelled to confess the truth to Gaius.

“I have something that I need to tell you — something that I think is important for you to know before we continue forward.”

Gaius could read the change in the mood as Valerius stared at him with daunting eyes that showed the slightest hint of reservation behind them.

“What is it?” Gaius asked.

Valerius took a deep breath, and then spoke.” I am the reason your father is dying — the reason he had to give you away. It is entirely my fault that you were forced to leave your old life behind, and those you called your friends.”

Gaius’ eyes opened wide as he struggled for words, but managed to utter, “What…What do you mean it is your fault? I don’t understand.”

Valerius hesitated as he dropped his head low, not wanting to look into Gaius’ innocent eyes, as he stared with confusion at the confession.

Taking a deep breath, he began, “The war was nearing its conclusion. Our cohort was on patrol. We had been camped in Sicily for nearly a year, and had tamed most of the tribes that were loyal to Carthage, so we did not expect anything to come. However, they did, from the hill like raving madmen. We held our ground against several charges as the bastards bashed into our shields, times and time again, until finally they broke. Nevertheless, your father, who was the chief centurion of the cohort, did not fall for the trap. He ordered our forces to hold their ground, but I, foolishly disobeyed. By century advanced, determined to slaughter the cunts to the last man, but it was then when we were at our most vulnerable that they hit us from either side. With the hills around us, we couldn’t form proper ranks, so my century was being slaughtered almost to the last man.”

Valerius’ words were growing angrier as, he detailed the encounter, becoming more animated as he went into further description of the fighting that followed the ambush.

Gaius hung on his every word as he inched closer to Valerius. He tried to imagine what the old veteran must have been like, young and strong as he battled the horde of bloodthirsty Carthaginians and their allies.

“Eventually most of my men ran back to our primary line, which was now beginning to pull out under the threat of being encircled by a superior force, a wise choice on your father’s part. I, on the other hand, was lost in my rage. I stood my ground as my men withered all around me, holding my own against any bastard who challenged me. However, even I in my youth wasn’t Mars; I’m shameful to admit now.”

“What did you do? How did you survive?”

“The whore-son’s had me surrounding, at least twenty of them, and despite the bodies that lay beneath my feet, they weren’t fearful of the Roman officer who stood defiant. They teased me, using their spears to slow me, taking pot-shots when they could — pierce my leg, my arm and my hip. I was done for, either then or later when they took me prisoner, but then I heard your father’s war cry as he charged down the field on top a horse. Where he got one I can’t imagine, but he looked like the god Apollo coming to my rescue.”

“Wow! Apollo?” Gaius mused with a wide grin.

“Oh yes, my boy. He charged into the Carthaginian ranks, killing at least three of them before I regained my wits and finished off another pair.”

Valerius paused for a moment as he took a deep breath.

“But one of the bastards tossed a spear, which tripped the horse. Your father was thrown from it, landing on his head. He lived and seemed no worse of ware, but he cracked his helmet straight now its seam. Blood gushed from a deep gash across his head, but strangely, he did not seem fazed by it at all. He charged at the remaining soldiers, crazed with madness, killing I dare say, more than I. Those who stood alive ran off, giving your father, and I time to escape the battlefield.”

“Then he saved you?”

“Yes, but with a price. As we were leaving, several miles safely from their territory, your father collapsed and would not wake up for a very long time. I carried him back to our legion camp and got him the help he needed. For a while, I wasn’t sure he would ever wake up again, but he did, and again, probably thanks to his hard head; he seemed okay.”

“I don’t understand,” Gaius asked as he now sat right next to Valerius, trying to wrap his young mind around what was being said.

“Well, you see, there are many injuries you can sustain on the battlefield that will end you slowly over time, but those taken to the head can be the worse — more terrible than death, for it will kill you over a lifetime. You may be fine for years even, but then one-day everything is different; your body won’t work anymore. You may have fits of the limb, cold sweats, raging temperatures, and much worse. A powerful man, such as your father can become as frail as a small boy, I’m afraid. And while your father would not show it to you, he knew that his time was growing ever shorter. He wanted to spare you from seeing him fall — overtaken by this old wound, one that I’m responsible for.”

Valerius lowered his head; his voice filled with regret as his somber words ran deep through Gaius’ heart.

“If it weren’t for me and my action, your father would still be alive. He would be able to raise you, teach you what is needed to become a man, and allow you to make your own choice as to what to do with your life. I’ve robbed him of his life, but so too I’ve done the same for you.”

Valerius looked down at Gaius and rested his hand on the boy’s shoulder as he continued.

“Gaius, I will understand if, someday you seek to avenge your father’s fate. I am at fault, and it is your right as his son. I deserve no less.” Valerius’ words were sincere.

Gaius did not say anything for what seemed like a long time. He didn’t know how to respond. He knew it was in his right to take action against the man who was to become his teacher — the man who would train him to be a soldier, to kill. Even so, Gaius looked up at Valerius with different eyes, not filled with hatred for what the old soldier had told him, but a sense of understanding that was beyond his years.