“My brother knows what you mean to me. I do not hide my secrets from him, Gaius.” She tried to fight his argument, but could see right away that there was no changing his mind.
“Even so — “Gaius turned his head, afraid to speak what he had been thinking. “It does not change the reality of our situation. I am a soldier of the Republic, Julia. Do you know what that means to me?”
She stared at him puzzled, but Gaius did not give her the chance to answer his question before he continued.
“I took an oath to defend Rome with my life; to serve the Senate, and to lead those men under my care. That is not something that I can turn my back on, not for anyone, not even for you.”
“Then do not turn against your oath,” Julia blurted out with frustration. She sat shivering in his arms, but not from the growing chill of the late evening, but in knowing what the result of their conversation would lead to.
“Julia, I can’t love a married woman either.” Gaius’ words were like ice picks through her chest. “I can’t hide in the shadows and wait to steal you away when opportunity presents. If we were found out, it would be the death of both of us, literally.”
Julia tried to speak again, to debunk what Gaius was saying, but he spoke sooner than she could.
“And even if we aren’t discovered, in time, you will bear Paullus children. What place would I have then in your life? Do you think I would be low enough to still seek you — to tear your family apart?”
“What are you saying, Gaius?” her words trailed off as tears formed in her eyes. She suddenly felt very exposed as she broke away from him and reached down, wrapping the sheet around her naked body.
“I don’t know. I know that I won’t betray my oath, and I can’t stop loving you, but — “he struggled for words, desperately trying to find the right sentence that might ease her mind. He felt like he was betraying his love for her that she might believe that he loved her for her body, there was no other need for her. He hoped she didn’t feel so. He could never use her and just throw her away. Nevertheless, he was pulled between his honor and his passion for her.
“I’m just…” he never got to finish his sentence when their attention was turned east, down the river and toward the bridge that led back to the city.
There was a strange, distant noise which he recognized as the rhythmic marching of soldiers, followed by the trumpets of Scipio’s legion as they returned from the north.
“The legion is back!” Gaius said enthusiastically as he stood to his feet.
“This early?” Julia asked as she too stood to her feet, wrapping herself in the sheet as she stood next to Gaius.
“Something is wrong,” he noted as the trumpet calls weren’t that of a victorious army, but a warning to any along the road to move aside and allow the legion to pass unimpaired. Even this far Gaius could hear that the marching was sporadic and ragged, not the orderly movement of a legion.
“I have to see what is going on,” he said as he bent down and grabbed his clothes. Julia quickly did the same before the two headed back towards Rome.
It did not take them long to reach the stone bridge that crossed over a narrow patch of the river, which led to the northern gate of the city. For the moment, the troubled conversation that he and Julia shared escaped their thoughts as both hurried along the river’s path. And then when the two saw the legion, both paused with horrid looks as they witnessed the sorry state of the army.
The soldiers who had been sent north to confront Hannibal were broken. Most of the men, marching in a loose formation, were dirtied, tired and bloodied, with blood-soaked bandages over their limbs and heads. Those that still carried weapons were slumped oddly over their shoulders or dragged along the stone-paved road without care, while their armor was a mixture of chain-mail, leather and tunic, all covered with week’s worth of mud and spackled with dried blood. Even the horses the officers rode seemed short of breath as many of them had deep gashes across their powerful bodies. The wounds had been hastily filled with mud so that the animals didn’t bleed to death, but a number still bled from their noses, indicating that their serious injuries were indeed taken its toll.
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.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
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 — “