Gaius caught sight of Brutus, one of the few senior officers he had seen since last night. He was running up towards him as he walked among the dead, still glancing from right to left, looking for the old gladiator leader of this defeated band.
“Gaius!” Brutus called as he neared, carefully working his way between the bodies. Gaius could hear the urgency in his voice as his name was called out again.
“I know. You can tell Valerius that I will have the men marching within the hour. We are only cleaning up and still gathering survivors,” Gaius called out even before Brutus, nearly out of breath had reached him.
“No. It is not that. I’m here about Valerius. I’ve been trying to find you.”
“What of him?” Gaius asked eagerly.
“He was wounded during the raid. Badly, I’m afraid.”
“What?”
“Yes. He took an arrow under the arm. We managed to save him before anymore damage could be done, and evacuated him from the battle. But I’m afraid,” Brutus was nervous about his sentence. “He is hurt badly. I do not know if he will survive.”
Gaius instantly forgot about his search for Calfax’s body as he walked past Brutus, demanding, “Take me to him.”
A temporary camp had been established to gather the wounded, prisoners and the survivors before they were to march and link up with the main body of the legion. Gaius worked his way through the collection of bodies that stood, most cheerful and bolstering about the victory. His men stood shoulder to shoulder with the survivors, sharing stories, offering water, wine, food and clothing, while doctors and orderlies took care of those who had been wounded during their imprisonment, torture and then battle. Those that could not walk were loaded onto wagons, while the prisoners were chained together, and waited for the long march back to Rome. A number of men, his fellow Wolves and the survivors cheered and patted him on his back as he walked threw them. He had freed them, and all were eternally grateful for his efforts. His thoughts were, however, only on where he needed to go.
Every possible horrific image filled his mind as he walked towards the small tent that had been erected to keep Valerius safe and away from prying eyes. When he finally neared, two men stood guard. They quickly stepped aside and opened a path for Gaius to enter. He was hesitant. However, as he stood before the tent flap, glancing over at one of the two men with a worried look. The man lowered his eyes, which too were filled with dread. Gaius then stepped forward.
Inside, Valerius was thankfully awake and alert. He was laid down on a cot. His armor stripped from his body, his chest and arms covered with dried blood and sweat as a doctor was knelt next to the general, examining the wound.
Valerius cursed the doctor as the man dug into the wound, which had to be cut wider so that the arrow head and splinters of wood could be extracted. The whole process was worse than the arrow tearing through his flesh in the first place.
“Dammit man! Is it too much to ask that you hurry up?!" Valerius bellowed as the doctor, knife in one hand, tweezers in another dug through the open wound. Now and again, the old Greek would drop a bloody piece of wood into a cooper bowl that lay near him.
“If you held still, general, I could finish faster,” the doctor grumbled as he grabbed another piece and dropped it into a bowl. “It serves you right for falling off of the horse and shattering the arrow like you did. Next time, you need to be more careful.”
Gaius’ tensions lifted as he watched and listened to the banter between Valerius and the doctor.
“Yes, yes, I shall take your advice,” Valerius muttered between long swings of wine, which did little to ease the pain.
The doctor turned and looked up at Gaius as he walked over towards him. Before he left, he leaned in close and spoke low, so not to allow Valerius to hear.
“When you are done with the general, I would like to speak to you outside. However, do not be too long. I have to get him ready to be moved.”
“Understood, doctor, and thank you,” Gaius replied as the doctor stepped past him and exited.
“I want a status report. How did the rescue go?” Valerius asked as he forcefully tried to lift himself, so he could see Gaius more clearly.
Gaius took a deep breath before he dared to speak. Seeing his mentor like this, lying down on a bed, bloodied and in obvious pain was a serious blow to his perceived images of the man. His own father, he had remembered being frail and weak as his sickness was slowly eating away at his youth. However, Valerius, he was always strong, as powerful as an ox. He seemed invincible — a steward of Rome’s unlimited power. Nevertheless, it pained him more than anything he could recall seeing that image shaken as it was at the moment.
“Ah,” Gaius struggled to begin as he stepped over towards Valerius and stood at attention. “We killed or wounded at least two hundred of the slaves, while sustaining twenty-eight casualties on our end… ah, twenty-nine, including you. Seven dead and four more we aren’t sure will survive the day. We have over sixty prisoners, most runaway slaves, a few of the gladiators.”
“Which means some of them escaped, I assume?” Valerius grumbled, annoyed that he wasn’t able to kill or capture all the gladiators as he had hoped.
“Yes. I believe so. I thought it best to not order a pursuit.”
“Good, I don’t won’t our ranks to be thinned more than it is. And, what about the men we rescued? How many did we manage to save?”
“We freed forty-four. Nine were killed during the battle; five more have died since from wounds. Almost all of them are wounded, in one way or another.”
“And those already dead before we arrived?”
Gaius hesitated again, but quickly answered.
“As far as I can tell, they tortured and killed around four hundred, perhaps more. We can’t really tell in some cases, since there isn’t much left of them.” Gaius sighed heavily before he spoke again, “If only we could have been quicker.”
“We did what we could, lad. Don’t blame yourself for not being able to change what couldn’t be.”
“I…” Gaius stopped himself from speaking further, but Valerius, even in his barely audible state could see that something else was bothering his pupil.
“What is it?”
“Their leader — the leader of the gladiators, his name is Calfax. I knew him…well, not personally, but I knew of him…He killed Antony.”
“You friend?”
“Yes. He killed him at Cannae, and when I found out that it was Calfax that had done it, I acted without thinking, putting not just my life at risk, but everyone’s — the whole mission. It was my fault. I fought him when I should not have, and lost. Calfax is not among the dead or captive. He is still out there — somewhere…I should have — ”
“Enough!” Valerius blurted out, not angrily, but loud enough that it forced Gaius to snap back to the here and now, and not dwell in the memories of what happened hours ago.
“You made a mistake. You allowed your emotions to get the better of you, and yes you could have cost us our victory.” Valerius smiled even though it hurt him to do so. He knew he was just as reckless, last night, and in his youth, and it had cost him a great deal. “But we did not fail and there are men out there that are alive because you acted when you did. The slaves are broken, and even if this Calfax is still breathing, he is no longer a threat to Rome or its people.”
“We do not know that,” Gaius added.
“No, I suppose we do not. Nevertheless, what is done is done. Learn from your mistakes and pray to the gods that they might look after the souls lost because of it. All you — we, can do is move on. Rome is in need of us. And right now, you have to get these men back to our city, if we are going to defend her while we still have a city to get back to. Do you understand?”