Gaius did not know the logistics at this time, but he figured that Hannibal must have taken the town purposefully. At least now Rome knew where he was.
As Gaius observed briefly during his short ride through the camp, the plains surrounding Cannae offered neither side any advantage — it was flat, mostly featureless with a few low-lying hills covered by dried grass. Gaius hoped the field, if battle was soon to start wouldn’t allow Hannibal to try his tricks. A pitched battle was what Rome had been seeking, and now it seems they’ve gotten it.
Already thousands to torches lit the Roman camp, making it look like a small town among the sea of stars, which were just now starting to break through the night sky as the sun disappeared below the western horizon. A few miles away he could just barely make out the glow from Hannibal’s camp and while considerably less bright, it still stood as a stark reminder of the apparent threat.
“I guess Hannibal has finally stopped running,” Maurus commented as he hadn’t turned his head from Cannae since they reached the plain.
“So it would seem so,” Gaius replied.
“A shame really. If we were going to give him Cannae and all the supplies within its walls, we could have spent the last few days doing something better with our time than patrolling the supply caravans. Bloody ridiculous,” Maurus snorted his frustration.
“Indeed,” Gaius replied. He felt the same but did not voice his opinion as openly as his subordinate. He was just thankful to be back among his people, and happy that he hadn’t lost any of his men during the deployment. They had been in three engagements, counting the skirmish this afternoon as Hannibal’s raiders had been picking off any foraging party and supply convoy they could find. The toll had been heavy on those unprotected as one hundred thousand men needed mountains of food and water to remain affective.
The rumbling in Gaius’ stomach reminded him that he needed food as well, so he did not prolong his ride to the camp a moment longer.
Hours later Gaius had been ready to bed down for the night once he rejoined the rest of the Sixth Legion when he was called by an aide who had been instructed to tell him that his presence was requested at a gathering of senior officers. Now, with the full moon hanging high over his head, Gaius walked through a series of large tents that had been erected at the center of the camp.
“Going my way?” Valerius called from behind him.
“It is to the viper’s nest I suppose, we might journey together,” Gaius replied with a wide smile.
“It is good to see you back. I trust all went well?”
“Nothing that couldn’t be handled with a good sword and a fast horse, which I have both,” Gaius replied. “It would seem that you’ve had troubles of your own.”
“Indeed. Hannibal took Cannae two days ago, and the grain storage we had in there. As a result, we’ve put our men on tight ration. I’m afraid what is arriving by caravan isn’t enough to sustain us for very long.”
“It is good to know that my work was for nothing,” Gaius sneered with a mocking tone. “Aren’t the consuls going to confront Hannibal?” he asked.
“We’ve tried, but that snake won’t come out of his hole. For now, he seems bent on standing between us and breakfast. In the meantime, his riders continue to harass our foraging parties, apparently hoping to starve us out of food and water.”
“Then, what are the consul's planning?” Gaius asked.
Valerius laughed. His distaste for politicians was legendary, but Gaius did not know if his laughter was out of disrespect, or if there was meaning behind it.
“Well, normally the consuls would lead their own respective legions, but since this is a combined army, they share command on rotating bases — swapping command like two children sharing toys. Paullus has been cautious. He probably doesn’t want to strain his reputation by getting this army wiped out. While Varro is brash, trying to force Hannibal’s hand, and remove him from behind Cannae’s walls.”
“I’m afraid to ask — whose turn is it to lead tomorrow?” Gaius wondered.
“Varro, I’m sorry to say.”
Gaius did not know what to think. He did not understand the Roman system as well as Valerius. He liked Varro well enough — he was the father of Antony and Julia, and had always treated him with respect. However, Gaius was concerned. Varro was not a military man, but he was a career politician, businessman, and land owner. Gaius knew the truth well enough: it was fame and glory that both Varro and Paullus sought. If they defeated Hannibal, not only would their future interests be assured, but their names would live on forever, and generations to come would celebrate their victory and their decedents. However, waiting for an enemy that refused to budge while their own men slowly starved wasn’t the way to victory. The food shortage might cause one or both consuls to act foolish; Gaius feared.
Even before Gaius stepped foot into the largest of the command tents, he could hear the heated debates, as if the army had been turned into a small example of the Senate. And in many ways, it was just that. There were more officers from the ranks of the Senate than there were real ones, and most of the tribunes were the children of wealthy senators who sought advancement for their kin.
Most of the yelling was coming from the center of the room. Gaius could see through the densely packed bodies that the room had been divided between two parties: those in support of Paullus, and those that favored Varro.
Gaius could see Antony from where he stood, as he was behind his father, standing tall and proud. However, Gaius knew his friend well enough to see the subtle discomfort as his eyes darted from person to person, as the arguing had reached its boiling point.
What was supposed to be a strategy session had quickly escalated to a distressing debate over the fate of the army, and the actions it should take in the morning.
Antony broke from his father’s side once he saw Gaius enter the room. “It would have probably been best if you had stayed beyond the camp’s walls, protecting our supplies, my friend. At the very least, you wouldn’t have to endure this,” Antony commented once he joined Gaius.
His tone, as it typically was, was in good humor. However, Gaius could see the stress beneath his smile. It took him time getting used to seeing his boyhood friend in the uniform of a soldier, no less one of high rank. He carried the title of a senior Tribune, even though Antony had no military experience; he commanded thousands of men and officers, most, if not all of them with more experience than he.
“Well, at the very least we don’t have to spend the whole summer tracking Hannibal across the damn country,” Gaius replied as he tried to put a positive spin on the predicament the army was facing.
“True, I suppose,” Antony attempted a smile. “Oh, I nearly forgot.” He pulled out from underneath his tunic a sealed letter, before he handed it over. “This came for you today, from Rome, from my sister. I dare say that it is thicker than the note she sent me and my father,” Antony grinned as Gaius took the letter from him, trying his hardest not to seem too eager.
“Thank you. I shall read it when I have the time,” Gaius replied as he carefully tucked the letter away.
“I’m sure you will,” Antony laughed.
Both men’s attention was turned when they heard the sound of a jug breaking against the floor. It had been thrown by Varro, who cried out, “This is ridiculous! That bastard has cut us off from our supplies, brining about the real possibility that this army may starve to death before we have faced the enemy on the field. That is, of course, if we don’t die of thirst first, as the continued attacks on our water bearers make it impossible for us to reach the Aufidus river. And now, you suggest that we divide our forces into two camps.” Varro had the support of most of the officers in the tent, who voiced their agreement, demanding that Paullus and his supporters heed their master’s call to arms.