Swords of Rome (15 page)

Gaius knew that he could not expect their memories of him to be as cherished as his. They had lives of their own; years to make new friends, to fall in and out of love. He couldn’t help but feel selfish and arrogant to think that he meant as much to them as they did to him.

“I should not worry about such things, should I? We might be going to war soon. I’ve
trained, and I’ve excelled at becoming a soldier. I have a duty to my men and to my country, and yet, I can’t stop thinking of them – of her.”

Gaius put his head down on his horse’s neck, rubbing its fur with his hand as he asked his last question.

“Tell me, Apollo, am I a fool for being in love with a dream?”

Gaius waited, but Apollo
just made a faint noise that was either disagreement, or a statement that he was indeed a fool. Which it was, he could merely guess.

“Thanks, you are a lot of help, you know that,” Gaius smiled as he went back to brushing his horse. Outside, the camp
was making preparations for war. What would come next filled Gaius’ young mind with all sorts of possibilities. At the very least, he would get the chance to see Rome again. He wondered how much the city had grown since his last visit.

In three days time, he would know.

A harsh wind cut through the city just as thick gray clouds opened and unleashed their captive water, which seemed to fall like buckets down onto the sooty paved streets.

The rain beaded off Gaius’ red cloak as if it was in retreat the moment it touched him. The discomfort wasn’t enough to impair the joy that he felt, to be back in the grand city he had only visited once in his youth. Nothing about Rome seemed to have changed from last he remembered; running through the streets as a boy, enjoying all the wonders his young mind hadn’t experienced before. Only now, his perspective was different as he looked at his city with older eyes.

He wore full armor, the same dark leather plate that his father had given him ten years ago, when he left home for the Sixth Legion. A long red cape draped from his shoulders and wrapped around the hindquarters of his horse.
Apollo trotted in a slow rhythmic pattern as if the animal believed he was on parade. The hooves of Valerius’ steed, who rode beside Gaius, echoed down the crowded streets, causing all who stood before them to step aside as they headed towards the great forum, in the heart of the city, and while not customary to ride horses in the city, Valerius wanted to reach the Senate without pause.

A week
ago, Gaius was frightened by the prospect of returning to Rome. Now, he could hardly contain his excitement as he caught himself talking in every sight and sound, with the same enthusiasm he had when he was twelve.

Valerius, on
the other hand, did not have any interest in the city, and in fact, he loath it. Gaius knew the old Roman well enough to know that he preferred the open country to the artificial stone and wooden structures and narrow streets of the city. He might defend Rome to his last breath, but walking through it was another matter.

Valerius kept his attention forward. A tight-ridged expression that Gaius had lovingly become used to over the years was present on his weathered face. It was painfully clear that he wanted to hurry and get to the
Senate, and be done with his duty, and off to join the campaign. Gaius tried his best to follow his mentor’s example. He rode tall atop his horse and gripped the reins firmly; chin held high like an officer on display. Even the continuing annoyance of the dripping water from the brim of his helmet was ignored. Still, despite his best efforts, he found that his attention continued to drift from one sight to the next as it had done when he was younger.

The streets, even with the heavy rainfall, were filled with hundreds of people who shopped or ate at the numerous stands that lined the busy corners. There seemed to be a pub or brothel on every block, Gaius noted, and not a single one seemed short of business.

One brothel caught his gaze as he rode by. It was quite elegant, made from white stone and freshly painted red wood. Out front stood several beautiful women who chatted to each other, or enticed only the wealthiest of men to enter their establishment, with wooing comments of great pleasures and wondrous exploitations of the flesh they won’t soon forget.

The women wore silk dresses that were cut low around their breasts, and had slits that showed their long and shapely legs. They adorned themselves with a wide assortment of jewels in their ears and or around their necks.
Many of the women wore bright-colored wigs of red, blonde, black or other assorted colors that weren’t natural to the female body. However, most engaging about them was their odor; their exotic perfume carried over the street, drawing any man to them like a Siren' call.

One woman caught Gaius’
eye, in particular. She was an extremely beautiful young lady with lengthy hair. Her skin was tanned and seemed softer than a bed of feathers as long lashes, heavy with dark mascara wrapped around her piercing eyes, giving her an exotic, foreign look.

She watched Gaius as he rode past her, never taking her eyes off the young officer.

He smiled at her with a boyish grin, which she returned pleasantly.

So focused on this woman, Gaius veered his horse into Valerius’ own animal as both horses neighed and nipped at each other. This quickly brought Gaius’ attention from his fantasy as he corrected his error.

Valerius looked oddly at him, not saying a word as Gaius quietly voiced his apologies.

Valerius grunted his reply, knowing all too well what had caught his young officer’s eye.

Looking backward over his shoulder Gaius saw the exotic woman giggling with the girls who stood with her, before she glanced over towards him, still with a big smile on her face.

He continued to watch her until his vision was obstructed by the dense crowds, disappointed. He suddenly realized that some things were indeed quite different than the last time he was in the city – things his eyes couldn’t have appreciated ten years ago, now served only to pique his curiosity
as he wondered what other hidden gems Rome held tucked away.

Slowly, the narrow streets began to open as they rode into the great Forum of Rome, which house the
Senate, the Temple of Jupiter and other assorted government and religious buildings.

The forum was filled with thousands of
people. Dozens of shops had been set up where merchants sold items from across the Mediterranean: rugs from Persia, silk from Africa, Slaves from all corners of the known world, each auctioned in open markets as hundreds of buyers eagerly placed bets on the best bodies, strongest men, youngest boys or shapely women.

In
the distance, Gaius could see a large wooden structure that housed an open theater. Currently, a play was being shown to the crowd of adults and children that laughed and jeered at the performance of a strange-looking man, who wore a multi-colored dress and white-painted face. He carried an over-sized shield and sword. His hair was colored gold and was curled. Top his head was an unpleasant helmet that was adorned with large white feathers. In his crotch, hung a huge fake penis that the actor frequently waved and pointed at the audience, drawing a chorus of cheers and laughter from them; its meaning completely lost on Gaius as he watched from afar.

Two bare-breasted women ran around the stage as a very short man, only as tall as a small boy, perused them with his hands held out, trying to grab them from behind.

The tiny man was dressed in the fashion of a Persian king; dark clothing with long black curled hair and a thick beard. He acted like a clown as he chased the two women, who screamed out until finally, the gold-locked man stepped between them, and smacked the short king over his head with the fake sword, and then poked him with his oversized penis as the little man fell.

The king dropped to his knees and began to plead for his life. The hero, however, stood over him and waved his prop over the defeated man’s head.

The crowd loved all of it even though not a word had been uttered on stage, but soon Gaius began to recognize some of the similarities in the play as the story of Alexander the Greats conquest of the Persian Empire.

He smiled even though he felt that the historic in
terpretation of the actors was terribly wrong.

“The people don’t seem to be too concerned about the prospect of war,” Gaius commented to Valerius as the two stepped down from their horses once they reached the Roman
Senate.

“Bah. War is only an inconvenience to most of these people. Nothing that w
ould actually affect their mood; and besides, most the dying will come from the allies any ways,"” Valerius snarled.

Gaius looked up at the
Senate. The sizeable structure that hosed the power behind the Republic wasn’t entirely what he was expecting, as the Curia wasn’t grand or set high upon a hill like the Acropolis in Greece. It looked more like a large house, built in a simple fashion, set against some of the most important structures in Rome. It was painted red and purple and adorned with flowers. Banners of the Republic draped down the side of the building, while the two large heavy wooden doors that led into the Senate were currently wide open, indicating that session was in order and any citizen was technically invited to listen to the hearings, although, most did not bother or dared to set foot inside. 

Still, Gaius did not let his imagination overshadow the importance of the building. He knew inside were the most powerful men in Rome – those that commanded the loyalty of the people and the army, governed the provinces, and ensured that Rome’s light
shine the brightest in the world. And, while the Senate did not make or pass the laws, their collective voices helped shape the course of Rome’s future.

Gaius was so intrigued by the
Senate building that he failed to notice what greeted him.

Along the base of the walls was a row of beggars, many of whose hands were stretched out as they pleaded for coins from the numerous citizens passing by.

The wretched souls looked as if they had just crawled out from their own graves, and took residence in front of the symbol of power. Their clothing was a mix of tattered rags and patch-work of other garments and as Gaius came closer to them, their smell was unbearable, which was made worse by the rain.

Most of the men, far too sad and miserable to look at, seemed to be living ghosts, their faces
were pale and hair matted. All of them looked older than their true age would have testified to.

Their wary eyes stared up at Gaius as he was
forced to walk passed them in order to reach the Senate doors. A few of the beggars raised their hands out towards him, asking without words for a few coins. Gaius, feeling sick from their smell, ignored them as he held his breath and continued up the steps.

As he reached the
Senate doors, he let out a gasp and breathed in fresh air. Even now, he was still able to smell their filth. It made him want to throw up. He was ashamed that a man could let their lives fall to such ruin that he wished they would just go away, swept down the gutters like the trash, carried off by the rain water.

Gaius was about to speak to Valerius, who he assumed was still with him; no doubt having to also hold his breath and hurriedly climb the
Senate steps to avoid the beggars. However, when he looked back Valerius was nowhere to be seen.

And then Gaius saw him, strangely standing at the base of the steps talking to several of the beggars, seemly asking a pair of men questions.

Gaius couldn’t hear what was being said, not over the rain and the chorus of voices that carried over the forum. A moment later he watched as Valerius reached to his belt, removing a small leather bag that was attached to his waist, before tossing it, along with its contents of silver to the three men.

Gaius was dumbfounded as he watched the beggars rise to their feet, shake Valerius’ hand before they ran off, pushing through the bodies of citizens before disappearing from view.

“Who were those men? Did you know them?” Gaius asked as Valerius climbed the steps and joined him.

“I do not know. Just soldiers, like you and I.”

“Are you serious?” Gaius asked, the shock on his face evident as he looked back down at the beggars, studying them with careful attention. A number of them were indeed wearing the red tunics, although now badly faded and stained, of the legion.

“It is a disgrace that they have allowed themselves to fall so far.” Gaius spat as his eyes drifted away from the former legionnaires and back towards Valerius.

“Do not fault them, Gaius. Not
every man was made to serve the legions, or has the body and mind to come home, after living through and seeing what most men will never experience.”

“Regardless, what makes you think they won’t spend the money you gave them on drink and women?” Gaius asked.

“I don’t know, and I do not care. It is no longer my money,” Valerius replied plainly.

“A waste of coin if you ask me,” Gaius commented rudely.

“Then it is a good thing I did not ask for your permission.” Valerius’ tone was controlled, not holding Gaius’ empty words to heart, but he was firm, nonetheless.