Christopher Buckner - Swords of Rome

A wagon-train followed the legion. The foul odor of the rotting bodies and congealed blood forced Julia to turn her head. The living that was too wounded to walk under their own strength had been forced to ride with the dead.

As Gaius looked into the legionaries’ eyes, almost all of them as young as he, they stared dully out into space; more than a few clutched arms or legs that had been amputated after the battle.

“Soldier!” Gaius called as he drew the attention of one young man who seemed no worse for wear beyond a few cuts to his face and arm. “Tell me what happened to your legion?”

The soldier shifted his tired gaze over towards Gaius as he neared him, but did not break stride.

“Hannibal, sir — the bastard cut us to pieces after we lost Scipio.”

“What? The consul is dead?” Gaius asked as he kept pace with the young man.

“Yes. He was killed quickly, before the first hour of the battle. Those left in command weren’t able to organize a proper defense. Hannibal tore through us with his damn elephants and cavalry, like we were cattle. It all fell apart after that.”

“By the gods,” Gaius uttered to himself as he stopped, allowing Julia to catch up to him, as the surviving legionaries moved into the safety of the city.

“What is going on, Gaius?” Julia asked as she didn’t comprehend what she was seeing. She saw that a number of other citizens had also gathered along the road. Already a number of women stood on the road’s edge, weeping as they fell to their knees, calling out for their sons or husbands. It was enough to bring tears to her eyes as she watched, powerless to do anything.

“I have to get back to the barracks.” Gaius grabbed hold of Julia and urged her forward as they quickened their pace, heading in a different direction than the defeated army, but still back to Rome.

Gaius stood in the rear, surrounded on each side by a collection of officers: five optios and five centurions, as well as a tribune and a single prefect. All were in Valerius’ command tent, where he had summoned his commanders to assemble. He watched carefully to the men as they spoke among themselves and to Valerius. By now, everyone in Rome was aware of the fate of Scipio’s legion, and the auxiliaries sent north to stop Hannibal.

Rumors spread quickly through the city. Some said that Hannibal was marching on Rome, while others still stated that Scipio was alive somewhere, wounded but still breathing. More extreme gossip implied that along with Hannibal’s attack in the north, Carthage had landed an expedition force in the south, which moved to link with Hannibal and his barbarian hordes, which were in the process of ravaging the countryside, hoping to starve or panic Rome into submission.

The only truth that mattered to Gaius at the moment is that a Roman legion under the command of a decorated officer was soundly defeated on the field. With this knowledge, Gaius like the rest of his fellow officers wanted to know what the Sixth Legion was going to do — would the Senate finally call the rest north?

Finally, the flap to the tent was pulled back where sunlight filled the interior for a moment as all eyes turned; their voices falling silent as Valerius entered and stood before his officers.

Valerius took a deep breath once he was certain all eyes and ears were fixed on him. “Consul Scipio is dead,” he spoke. A moan filled the space that occupied the gathering officers, which was quickly followed by a chorus of questions.

Valerius raised his hand, silencing them.

“Early reports indicate that at least twenty-three hundred men are dead, missing or wounded, not counting those that deserted Scipio’s legion before its return to Rome. Most of the legion commanders, including Scipio, were killed, or are also missing. The Senate has not received any ransom demands for captives — “

“Because, they’re all fucking dead and likely put the bloody sword by those savages!” Centurion Marco cried out, interrupting Valerius’ report. His statement was supported by all the officers in the tent as they jeered their frustration.

“And what is the bloody Senate going to do this time? Sit on their collective asses, and wait for Hannibal and his horde to encircle Rome?” Tribune Titus demanded to know.

Valerius raised his hands once more as a wave of angry roars drowned his words before he could utter a single word.

“I have just come from a special session of the Senate. Newly appointed Consul Titus Sempronius Longus has pledged to the soldiers of Rome, and its people that he will not let the atrocities in the north go unpunished. He has dedicated himself to lead a larger force, which is to march by the week's end.” Valerius paused for a moment as his men soaked up the building anticipation of what they hoped he was going to say next. “And I'm grateful to tell each of you that the Sixth Legion will once again mark its name in the history of our Republic, with another victory, once Hannibal and his rogue army is crushed beneath our heels!”

Valerius’ words brought a wave of cheerful excitement that echoed beyond the walls of the command tent, as his officers bellowed with glee at the prospects of avenging their falling brothers, and taking part in the coming campaign to punish Hannibal for crossing iron with the Republic.

Gaius cheered, but he was more reserved than they. He had never seen battle no less took part in one, and commanded men — eighty souls whose very lives rested on his decisions.

“Listen!” Valerius cried as he raised his hands once again, signaling for his men to be still while he continued. “While I have already dispatched riders to send word for the rest of the Sixth to march north, the consul will be moving from Rome before our brothers can join us.”

“More glory for us then!” Cried one of the older centurions, a man Gaius barely knew by the name of Sempronius.

Valerius laughed as he spoke again. “Now, it isn’t all good news. Since we are under-strength, we will be charged with guarding the auxiliary cohorts.”

A chorus of moans erupted from the officers.

“So,” Valerius continued once the groaning from his men subsided. “I’m afraid we will be babysitting the rear, at least until we draw Hannibal out for a fight. I do, however,” Valerius raised his finger high into the air, “promise plenty of glory for you when the battle comes. So, I want each century to be prepared. Make sure your men are kitted, feed and eager when the word comes from the consul. If he is wise, he will wait for the rest of the Sixth, and other legions to arrive before going north, but politicians, I’m afraid, aren’t known for their keen intellect.”

The wave of laughter brought a smile to Valerius’ face as his men’s excitement for the coming campaign was as he hoped.

“Alright then, what are you waiting for, Hannibal to come to us? Get out there and make sure the cohort is ready — dismissed!” Valerius gave his final order as each officer, beaming with joy turned and stepped from the tent, save for Gaius, who Valerius called before he left with his fellow officers.

Gaius stood at attention as he watched Valerius moved around his desk and sat down, where he ironed his fingers together, staring up at him with a displeased expression that sent shivers up Gaius’ spine.

“You have not been in the camp much, have you?” Valerius asked, his question sounding more like a statement of fact than a query.

“I apologies, sir, I have been — “

“Preoccupied with the daughter of one of Rome’s leading senators,” Valerius interrupted, filling in Gaius’ words.

Gaius stood frozen, trying as hard as he could to think of something that might excuse him, but he knew it was best that he not bother trying to cover his ass.