While there had been a time that Gaius recognized nearly every man in the Sixth, at the moment, as he looked at the faces of the men around their fires, he found it hard to place them. So many of his friends were gone, and the war hadn’t even reached a year yet. Many of those he would lead into battle were juvenile, sixteen or seventeen, others a bit older; so desperate the recruitment had been that retired veterans had been promised a hefty ransom and promotion if they should reenlist. Gaius looked to some of these men now to guide the adolescent, while he and his own veterans attempted to make them prime for battle. However, it troubled him more than the best men. The seasoned legions were still overseas, fighting in Greece, Macedonia and Africa. The Senate, under the guidance of Paullus and Varro had convinced the mob that recalling them was not needed. While it was true that protecting the Republic's interests beyond Rome’s borders was important, it was more likely, as rumors had persisted that the two consuls sought to build their own armies, and in return, shaping their destiny.
If victorious, some wondered, or feared, how far the two men might rise once the threat passed.
As Gaius wondered aimlessly toward the front gate to the camp, his attention was focused on one soldier who sat alone as he rubbed his hands over a dim fire. There was nothing of particular interest about the man — a boy really, other than the fact that he looked ridiculous in his oversized tunic.
His leather belt was fastened as tightly as it could, with a few extra notches carved into it so that the buckle could seal properly.
His arms and legs were nearly bare of hair, as was his chest and chin. His features were that of a boy, one that seemed barely fourteen, if not younger. His wide brown eyes stared without purpose at the dancing flames, as if his mind was elsewhere, perhaps home, wherever that might be.
“You should be asleep, soldier,” Gaius broke the dim quiet of the moon-filled night.
The boy seemed taken aback suddenly as he hadn’t seemed to notice Gaius standing a few paces before him.
As he focused his sight, waiting for his natural night vision to aid him, the boy sudden rose to his feet once his mind recalled Gaius’ face, and more importantly, his rank.
“Prefect! Sir!” the boy saluted without hesitation as he tried as best he could to seem taller and broader across the shoulders, as he puffed out his chest.
“The hour is late, and a soldier wakes early,” Gaius added as he came closer, before holding his hands out and embraced the rising heat from the fire.
“Yes, sir, but I was unable to sleep, so I thought I would come outside and sharpen my sword.”
Gaius glanced to the boy’s side, seeing that his gladius rested against the side of a log that the boy had used as a bench. Near it was a wet-stone.
“Are you having difficulty sleeping, or are the lads giving you trouble?” Gaius asked as the boy stood at ease.
“No sir. I find my accommodations acceptable, as well as my comrades.”
“Then, you are expecting an attack?” Gaius mused with a grin.
“No sir. I merely thought it best to keep vigil, sir.”
Gaius couldn’t help but chuckle at the boy’s eagerness. He clearly wanted to play the part of a soldier, well enough, but it was a terrible sight that he did not look the part.
“How old are you?” Gaius asked.
The boy hesitated for a moment. There was no denying his age, but the lad seemed to fear the answer, as if Gaius might cast him out of the army, or give him a lesser job. However, his young age and respect for Gaius’ rank did not give him the maturity to learn to lie, so he answered truthfully.
“Fourteen, sir. However, I will be fifteen in three months.”
“You could be dead in three months,” Gaius added, which forced the boy to swallow hard.
“I could be dead tomorrow, or the next day, or twenty years henceforth, sir. Death claims all of us, eventually,” the boy spoke, attempting to sound sure.
“Very true. What is your name?” Gaius asked.
“Cato, sir.”
“And where are you from, Cato?”
“Tarentum, sir.”
“You are a long way from home, Cato.”
Cato’s eyes drifted ever so slightly, as if he was recalling the home he left behind, which was to the south, along the coast, on the southern foot of Italy.
“Tarentum’s ports are important to the Republic. You should be home with the garrisons protecting Rome’s interests,” Gaius commented after a short pause. “Why bother coming all this way, certainly your parents must miss you.”
“I have no family to speak of,” Cato stated.
“Then, what did you do, who did you stay with?” Gaius asked.
“I was a clerk’s apprentice, working at the docks.”
“Then a boy of some talent and intelligence, then?”
“Not really, sir. I was never very good at counting. The master…” It was then that Cato realized that he said too much, which caused Gaius to perk up at the notion the boy had just alluded to.
“Master,” Gaius repeated. “You were a slave?”
Cato was hesitant. A part of him wanted to run. He was near enough to the gate that he might have a shot. Certainly, once he confirmed his identity Gaius would turn him in. If he wasn’t sent home, he would be nailed upon the cross.
“I…” Cato bit his lip, fighting with himself to speak the truth. “I was a slave, sir, yes.” Cato finally admitted.
Gaius leaned in closer, now sitting next to Cato.
The boy seemed unsure what Gaius’ intentions were at the moment, but he sat down, pulling his knees up to his chest as he twitched terribly.
“A slave then? Might I ask, why come here? Why do you choose to join the army instead of running? There is so much going on across the country with Hannibal running amok, you might have found your freedom.”
“Because!” the boy blurted out loudly, but he quickly pulled himself back, lowering his voice as he answered Gaius’ question. If he was going to be turned in, then at least he was going to tell the truth, maintaining his honor.
“Because, Rome is in danger, and while I may be a slave — was a slave, that doesn’t mean I don’t love the Republic as much as you.”
“You don’t say,” Gaius was interested by the boy’s demeanor and sudden maturity. He wanted to hear more.
“Rome is our heritage. Rome is our civilization. She is the internal light that guides all of us through the darkness that is the world — a world filled with demons like Hannibal and his ilk. If Rome should fall, then all of us fall with her.”
“You are a slave. What do you know about freedom, civilization and Rome?” Gaius asked, not accusing Cato, but his question was spoken out of curiosity.
“My father owned a large debt after his shipping company went bankrupt. He sold me into slavery when I was six to pay it off. I know — knew what freedom was.”
“Then you could have earned that freedom back, eventually, when you paid off your price,” Gaius pointed out.
“I couldn’t wait. I saw their faces, my master and his clients. They were hopeless, as if they were waiting for death to come, and while they had it in their ability to do something, to fight, or send their sons to Rome, they did nothing, nothing but complained, or worried about how the war was affecting business. Worse still, after Trasimene, what little life was left in them faded. For them, Hannibal has already won. However," Cato looked up at Gaius with hard eyes, “I couldn’t exactly sit back and do nothing. I had to do my part, even if I’m only a body, I still can wield a sword and die for Rome.”
Gaius stood back to his feet, having heard all he needed. Looking down at Cato, who gazed up at him with narrow eyes, half expecting Gaius to grab him and drag him away, Gaius only smiled.