Gaius walked through the gates of Rome four times in his life. Twice it was jubilant; the city was new to him and full of wonders. He thought he could have lost himself. But now, like before, after the defeats at Trebia and Trasimene, the city was foreign to him — a ghost of brick and marble. Those few thousand city guards who had remained behind, those that had not abandoned their posts and fled with their families had long faces and tired eyes. The return of the Sixth Legion and the survivors of Cannae were not enough to give them hope, as the column of soldiers marched through the gates in the pouring rain.
Gaius tried as best he could monitor the long march into the city. He had sent one cohorts in first so that they could take positions along the walls, while leaving the last two outside to protect the rear. He set up an unbroken chain of communications, starting five miles beyond the city limits, to his current position. If even a hare was spotted, he would know of it within ten minutes. The walking wounded, sick and wounded were then allowed into the city once he was certain he had set up a strong defense. He made sure that his prisoners were brought into the city through a different gate. He couldn’t afford to have them making any trouble, or more so, the Roman guards wanting to exact their built-up aggressions and fears on those men, not until each had been debriefed for whatever information they could reveal.
After, Gaius assumed that all of them would be tortured and then crucified — placed outside the city walls as a warning to any future slave who may think of siding with Hannibal. Unfortunately, while Gaius would have preferred to have stayed with his men until every last one of them was safely inside the city walls, he had been hounded continuously by officers and aids to the Senate. Their questions were endless and asked with such frequency that he barely had time to answer one before another was asked.
Always the questions were the same: Where was Valerius? Where was Paullus? What of co-consul, Varro — did he survive as well? Who was in command of the Sixth? When the various officers finally accepted the realization of the truth, their concerns were more relaxed. They wanted to know how the Sixth had survived Cannae. Had they encountered Hannibal or knew of his whereabouts? What of the gladiator army? Was it still a threat? The questions continued for hours without pause.
Between the interrogation, Gaius had some of his own questions answered. He learned that a few thousand men had survived Cannae, and had managed to make it back to Rome over the past two weeks. However, most of those men had since deserted, gathering their families and meager possessions and fled, along with a full two quarters of Rome’s population. Those that remain were placed along the walls, and what was left of the civilian population, mostly the young and old, were drafted or had volunteered to defend the city. They were given what training they could, and then placed on the walls. Even if they could not fight, it was hoped that with enough numbers, if Hannibal and his army should come, he would think twice about directly attacking Rome.
To his surprise, the central core of the Italian peninsula had remained loyal to Rome, which gave hope that with time, more men could be levied to rebuild the army. However, some cities had deserted to Hannibal after the word spread about Cannae, such as Capua, which sent shivers through the minds of every Roman. If such a great city could side against Rome, who might follow next?
The Senate, which had already lost dozens of members during the Battle of Cannae, was in tatters. A third of its body had fled as its members had taken their wealth and families to other boarders — where, Gaius couldn’t imagine, as Hannibal seemed to be everywhere and anywhere. Nevertheless, everyone, the Senate and the people alike, knew that Rome was a target. Its fall would symbolize not just the end of the war, but the end of the Republic as well. What would follow — cowardice or not, few wanted to face the day after the Rome crumbled.
Order would have to be reestablished, and Gaius hoped with Paullus recovery that it could begin soon. However, right now no one is very optimistic. By the time the rain had finally stopped falling and the sun was well past its zenith, Gaius had given the order for the rest of his men outside the city to be brought in. He would keep dozens of riders outside, as they scouted the surrounding countryside for days still to come. Even so, for the first time in a very long time he could breathe.
He felt weak in his knees and suddenly very hunger, but more so, unbelievably tired. When he was certain that there were no more officers seeking him, and if there were, he didn’t care, Gaius walked through the empty city, taking his time. His destination was the army hospital that he had sent the wounded and sick hours before.
As he walked through its halls, checking on the still recovering wounded, he took the time to stop and chat with those that could speak. Those that couldn’t, he tried as best as he could to reinsure them that they were safe and back home. It took hours more for him to see everyone, and he grew more tired as a result. It didn’t matter as he had one last person he needed to see before this day was done.
Valerius’ was kept in a separate room. Gaius had strict orders to his guards the general be left alone. Those that had pestered Gaius all day weren’t allowed within ten feet of him. If they dared the squad of guards, each man of the Sixth would have gutted anyone who tried, regardless of rank or privilege.
Gaius stepped into the small room. Right away, he could feel the musty heat, not from the torches that burned along the walls, but from the temperature that was slowly cooking his mentor from the inside.
Gaius wished that Valerius’ condition would have improved over the last four days, but that was wishful thinking. Valerius was going to die and despite the old man’s stubbornness and willingness to live, there was nothing that could be done for him.
It was only a matter of time now.
Gaius inched around Valerius’ bed trying as best he could be silent. He wanted to say something but found he could not form words. Valerius looked to be asleep, so he didn’t want to bother him with needless details about the day and the happenings in the city.
There was a pile of soaked rags, both covered with blood and sweat that rested next to the bed. The old veteran’s body glistened in the torchlight, and despite his body temperature, he shivered under the wolf pelt blankets. Gaius almost broke down then and there, but he wasn’t given the chance as Valerius opened his eyes and turned his head, staring up at his pupil before a small trickle of a smile formed in the corner of his mouth.
“Are the men safe and in the city?” Valerius asked, somehow finding the strength to speak.
Gaius grabbed a stool that sat in the corner and placed it beside the bed, before he sat himself down on it; his joints cracked. It was the first time in days that he was actually free to get off of his feet and rest, even for a moment.
He stared down at Valerius with heavy eyes. Taking a deep breath, he replied, “They are. We all made it inside without any loses.”
“You look, terrible. You do know that?” Valerius grinned, which caused Gaius to laugh as he ran his hand through his thick and matted hair. Only then did he seem to realize that it had grown longer than should have been allowed.
“It is not befitting for an officer in my army. Even so, I bet this new rustic look will drive the girls crazy. Wait until you show them the scars,” Valerius smiled before he fell into a coughing fit, which lasted several painful seconds before it subsided.
“You’re not looking well yourself, old man,” Gaius replied with a comforting grin.
“I’ve been better, that is for sure.”
Gaius tried to smile, but Valerius could see he only managed it with considerable effort.
“How are you?” Valerius then asked.
Gaius paused as his mind processed the question.
“I have men along the walls, guarding each gate and passage into the city. I’ve kept forty riders out beyond the city limits, scouting for any signs of Hannibal. And-”
“No,” Valerius cut him off before he could speak further. “I asked — how are you?”
Gaius sighed deeply as he lowered his head and answered, speaking words he never thought he would hear himself say out loud.
“I’m afraid…” Right away he felt ashamed that he had admitted that to Valerius. However, the old veteran rose higher in his bed even though it pained him to do so. He listened carefully as Gaius felt compelled to continue. “I’m afraid of what is to come, that I will fail the men, the city and you.”
“You’ve already proven yourself. You have no one to answer for. Gaius, you’ve faced your enemies and have lived. You’ve protected your men, and have brought them home safely.”
“Not everyone.”
“Bah! You cannot hold those deaths over your head. We are not gods. We cannot pick and choose which of us lives, and who dies.”
Valerius reached out and took Gaius’ hand in his own, holding onto him tightly.
“You are like a son, to me. You always have been. I will leave this world knowing that my boys are in the best of care. You will keep them safe, and when the time comes, you will lead them once more into battle. Men will die. Battles will be fought, won and lost, but always they will have you. And they will look to you now with the same eyes you’ve looked at me.”
“And if Rome should fall?”
“Then it shall fall. However, not because good men such as yourself gave up.”
He laid back down, flinching painfully as the arrow that was still lodged in his chest, pinched deeper into his body.
“You are more a man than I could have ever hoped to be. At your age, I cared nothing about the future, my duties or the affection of those I commanded. I’ve had time to look back at my life, the mistakes I’ve made, the promises I’ve broken and the loves I let get away from me. If I could, I wish that I could go backward and smack the boy I used to be, and demand that he wake up and live — not, for the moment, not for the next conquest or battle, but just to live and enjoy what little time we have. It is too late for me now, and when I look back, the only joy I can find, was the hand I had in raising you, Gaius.”
He shifted his eyes up, which were watering now as he stared at Gaius, who leered over him with equal sadness in his gaze.
“I can never replace your father, nor would I try. I can take pride, like he would have in the man you’ve become — greater than he or I could ever hope to have been.”
“I don’t know if I can continue with this,” Gaius admitted.
“You will…I can see it in your heart that you don’t know how to quit. Forget what you can’t change — move beyond the past. There will be a world after this war, and while you may never forget what you’ve lived through, have seen or have done, you will least live beyond it.”
Valerius reached out, holding his hand steady and waited for Gaius to take it, which he did.
“Find what has the most meaning for you, Gaius, and hold onto it — protect it, and in the end, your life will be full. Don’t let your end be like mine. Let your life have meaning, like your father did."
Gaius lowered his head and whispered, “I love you, Valerius.”
“As do I, my son.”
Those would be some of the last words Gaius would ever share with Valerius, as he remained with his old friend, his mentor and second father for the next four days, before Valerius, the last great Roman veteran of another era finally succumbed to his injuries. The following morning after his passing, the whole of the Sixth Legion stood out on the Fields of Mars and burned their beloved father’s body, and when the act was done and the final words said, Gaius left his men and found himself walking through the city streets. Rome was slowly coming back to life once it was confirmed that Hannibal, for reasons only known to the warlord, had forsaken laying siege to Rome, and instead set up camp at Campania.
Rome was spared and for the first time in months, everyone, citizen and soldier alike took a deep breath and thought to what next was to come — how to rebuild and regroup. Gaius, however, couldn’t share in the same joy. His mind and heart were trapped elsewhere.
When he found himself coming to a crossroad, one, which led nowhere, in particular, and one that would take him to Julia, he was vexed as to which he should take. He had not seen her or sent word to her about his return. He couldn’t face her and say to her that her father and brother were dead, and he couldn’t tell her that their deaths would not be avenged because he failed to kill Calfax.
It wasn’t until he actually reached the iron gates that he realized he was standing at her doorstep.
When he knocked, the front gate was answered by the same-old house slave that had greeted him each time he had visited in the past. He peered through the eye hole. Quickly, the old man opened the gate, and with wide eyes he called out, “Master Gaius, you are alive!”
“Is the lady of the house present?” Gaius asked, keeping his own voice low.
“She is, and my lady will be most grateful to know that you are okay,” the slave said eagerly as he escorted Gaius to the main building.
“How is she?” he asked, feeling foolish to mention it. How else was she supposed to be with her father and brother dead? Even Paullus had stated that he would not be seeing her.
“She is, troubled. I’m afraid that the last few weeks have weighed heavily on her young mind, sir.” The slave stopped and turned towards Gaius, and spoke lower. “Many have urged her to leave the city. She knows that her father and brother are gone, and that she is in danger here. Truthfully, I wish she heeded their advice. But I believe she has remained here, holding out hope that you will come for her.”
Gaius wondered for a moment how much the old man actually knew about the two of them. Probably, everything he figured.
He took a deep breath before he followed the slave into the house. Once inside, however, the old man didn’t have to announce Gaius’ presence as Julia was already in the room.
His heart sank to the floor the moment the two of them saw each other. She had been crying that much he could tell at first glance, and the moment her eyes fixed on him, she started once more.
“Gaius!” she called as she rushed over to him.
Both fell into each other’s arms, Julia’s hands digging into his back as she uttered his name again, holding onto him as tightly as she could.
The old Greek slave politely back away and headed outside to continue his nightly duties, leaving the two of them alone.
Julia dared herself to look up at Gaius, who felt a bit embarrassed at the moment. He hadn’t bathed in days, or had the chance to change his armor and clothing, which was dried with flakes of dirt, girt and mud, which were still mixed in with globs of blood. The rough stubbles on his cheeks were sharp and probably not comfortable to feel against her soft skin, but Julia didn’t seem to care as she kissed him passionately.
“I thought…I heard that everyone died,” she cried as she buried her head into his chest once more.
Gaius inhaled the sweet aroma of her oiled hair as he kissed her gentle on the top of her head.
“Tell me this is real, Gaius. Tell me you are really here. Say something to me, please, so that I know you are not an apparition,” she pleaded.
Gaius pulled Julia back so that he may look into her watery eyes, and as he did, he tried desperately to talk, but his words failed to escape his mouth in the way he had hoped.
“I…He…is gone…They are all gone…” Months, weeks of being the harden soldier, strong for his men, for his friends and peers, finally gave way as he collapsed into Julia’s arms, falling down to his knees as he sobbed, crying harder than he had ever done in his whole life.
“I could not save them! Antony…Valerius…I could not save any of them!”
Julia grabbed hold of Gaius, pulling him closer to her as he let go. She held him for a long time as he let out all of his built-up emotions, safe and finally alone with her. She cried with him — for him, but for the moment, she knew she had to be stronger than he. He needed her — he needed her to hold him, which she would.