Macro turned and saw a glint of metal in the trees on their right, leading uphill. As he focused his eyes on the sight, he was able to make out the figure of a man in a brass breastplate and helmet. Macro’s eyes narrowed as he grabbed Artorius by the shoulder.
“I see him,” he acknowledged, grimacing as his anger rose. “Get that bastard!”
Artorius took a deep breath and waved towards the man with his gladius.
“Let’s go!” he shouted to his section as they ran after the man they knew to be Julius Florus.
Shields were grounded and gladii sheathed, as they knew they would need both hands and feet to climb the steep slope.
Florus watched from the woods in despair as his men were crushed by the Romans. He spat in disgust as he watched a number of them surrender without as much as a fight. He trembled in anxiety as he saw legionaries gathered around his wagons. His precious money was lost. Lost! He was almost sobbing in frustration when he looked to his left and saw several Roman soldiers running his way. He then looked down and saw that the sun had cast its light through the trees and was gleaming off his breastplate. He cursed himself for his vanity as he turned and started to flee up the hill. His army was routed, his fortune gone, and if he failed to get away, his life would become forfeit as well. He grabbed at tree branches and roots as he pulled himself up the side of the hill. Roman soldiers were phenomenally conditioned, however Florus hoped the head start he had would be enough to save his life.
A glare caught Indus on the side of his face. He turned to see where it came from and saw a glimpse of a man in brass armor fleeing up the side of the mountain. He could also just make out a small group of legionaries pursuing the rebel leader. Indus scowled as he realized just who the Roman soldiers were pursuing. He turned back towards his men, who were helping legionaries round up prisoners. Florus could not be allowed any chance at escape!
“Stay here and help with the prisoners,” he told his deputy. He then signaled for two of his men to follow him.
There was a small path that led up the hill, arching off to their left. He hoped it would allow them to get far enough ahead of Florus to cut off his escape.
Florus’ chances of outrunning his pursuers were quickly vanishing as his lungs burned, unable to suck in enough air. His legs were cramping up in knots, his feet numb from the climb. He had become so accustomed to riding that even walking great distances had become arduous, let alone running. He threw off his helmet and struggled to work out of his cuirass. As his armor dropped, he found himself using his gilded sword as a crutch to help pull him up the steep hill. Florus could hear the sounds of the Romans struggling up the hill behind him. He was even able to make out their heavy breathing and the curses they muttered. They were getting closer. As he struggled to pull himself over a massive fallen tree, he could make out a trio of horsemen moving across his front. He then watched, horrified as they wheeled around and came at him. He lowered his eyes when he saw that Indus was one of them. With a sigh of resignation, Florus drew his sword and leaned back against a tree.
Artorius and the rest of the section slowed their pursuit when they saw Florus back against a tree with his sword out. He, too, was able to make out the riders approaching from higher up on the hill. Though the shadows of the trees prevented him from making out their faces, he was able to recognize Indus’ voice as he spoke.
“It’s over, Florus,” he stated as he rode up.
Florus could only nod his head. Indus slowed his horse and moved ever so slowly towards him. Florus gulped hard, his mind working desperately to find a way out of the situation. In the end, there was only one way out.
“Stay where you are, Indus!” he barked as he turned his sword on himself, resting the point against his abdomen.
Indus halted his horse and signaled his men to stay where they were.
“I am not carrying him back if he offs himself!” Magnus whispered into Artorius’ ear.
The decanus raised his hand to silence him. He then pointed for Valens and Gavius to start moving around the far side of the tree. With Magnus, Decimus, and Carbo he started to slowly advance towards Florus.
“I said stay away!” Florus cried out in desperation.
“Don’t do it, Florus. Don’t let it end this way.” There was genuine concern in Indus’ voice. Though they had been political rivals, and were now enemies in a war of rebellion, Indus could not help but feel sorry for him. If he could convince his fellow tribesman to see reason, perhaps he could help end this disgusting rebellion.
“What do you care how this ends?” Florus despaired.
“We are both of the Treveri,” Indus replied, “fellow countrymen, kinfolk through our tribe. .”
“You are no kin of mine!” Florus snapped, suddenly angry. “You betrayed your people so that they could remain slaves of Rome!”
Artorius quietly drew his gladius as he continued to slowly advance. Indus raised a hand, ordering him to stop. He wished to take Florus alive, if possible. He had already spoken with Silius about sparing Florus’ life, should he surrender peacefully. The Roman legate had been noncommittal, but had, at least, not rejected his request outright.
“You can help us end this thing, if you just surrender peacefully,” he pleaded. “Countless lives have been needlessly lost already. Do not let more die in vain. Put down your sword.”
“I will do no such thing! Surrender will only mean delaying the inevitable. The Romans will have me publicly strangled like a common criminal! No Indus, it ends now.” With final resolve, Florus fumbled with his sword and fell upon it. In his despair, he neglected to angle his sword upwards so that it would penetrate his heart and kill him quickly. Instead, he ran himself through the stomach, the blade exiting out his back as he collapsed onto the ground. A horrifying realization came over him as quickly as the insurmountable pain. He tried to cry out, but found he was unable. He clawed at the sword as hisbody started to tremble uncontrollably; his skin became clammy with sweat.Blood and intestinal fluid seeped from his self-inflicted wound as he lost all control over his bowels.
Indus lowered and shook his head, removing his helmet. Artorius let out a sigh and signaled for his men to finish advancing to Florus. Valens and Gavius came walking around the far side of the tree.
“Hey, this bastard is still alive!” Valens shouted. “Bloody fool couldn’t even kill himself properly!” With that he kicked Florus hard in the head.
“Take it easy, Valens!” Magnus remarked as he walked over to where Florus lay dying. He then turned to Artorius. “Finish him.” Artorius nodded affirmatively. He looked at Indus who nodded the same.
Florus was awash in feelings of desperation, overwhelming fear, deepening sorrow, and horrifying pain. He no longer had any control over his bodily functions; his spasms continued to worsen, and his bowels unloosed themselves again. He could just make out a burly legionary kneeling over him, his gladius drawn. The young soldier removed his helmet and lifted up on Florus’ head, exposing his neck. His terror increased as he felt the cold blade push against the side of his throat.
Florus was aware of nothing but the agonizing mortal wound in his belly. When Magnus knelt beside him, he looked at him with mute anguish and despair. Another person would have felt pity for the wretch, but there was none to be had from the young legionary. His passage to death was quickened by the cold steel of Magnus’ gladius.
The six legionaries stood over the corpse of Julius Florus. Indus signaled for his men to take the body and throw it over his horse.
“Sergeant Artorius, we meet again,” he said. His tone was pleasant, though his face bore no emotion.
Artorius knew that Indus had borne a much greater share of the responsibility regarding the outcome of this battle than any. The stressful and harrowing ordeal left him tired and worn. He wondered how many days it had been since the cavalry commander had had any sleep.