Swords of Rome

“I do not like this, Julia. I do not wish this. I want you. I want you by my side, for as long as I live. I wish we were different people, not obligated by our duties, to even be slaves, perhaps, free to love one another without reserve. However, it isn’t so. Our world and our place in it, is not that simple.”

Gaius reached for Julia, taken hold of her as she lowered her head, resting it against his chest.

“I will love you forever, for as long as I draw breath. My heart will always beat for you and you alone. Nevertheless, I ca

He watched her as she stepped through the threshold and back into her house. She turned only once; tears filling her eyes as she looked out to him. He wanted to say more, but there was nothing else to be said. Nothing could ease the suffering that they were both going through, so he left her, wondering if he would ever see her again…if she would forgive him?

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Snow drifted in thick clumps between the Roman lines, which advanced along the banks of the nearly frozen Trebia River. Even with the bitter cold and long marches, Gaius’ thoughts continued to drift back to Julia, and the last day he saw her, now six weeks past. He doubted the memories of that day would ever leave his troubled mind — how he wished he could have had a second chance to speak different words to Julia, to make her understand that he wasn’t abandoning her, or that he didn’t love her with all his heart, but what had been said was done, and nothing could remove the stain.

Gaius was now occupied by the duties he had been trained to carry out. However, unlike the rest of his cohort, who were excited by be given the chance to avenge their falling brothers, he felt like a corpse, still breathing, but dead inside. The joy and anticipation of the coming battle did not echo in his heart. However, for weeks now, Ha

Sempronius’ legions marched from one burnt-out settlement to another, engaging stray units, mostly Ha

Gaius watched the army arrayed far ahead of him. He feared Sempronius’ eagerness to end the war might be a price too high to pay if things kept going the way they were, a sentiment shared by many officers.

As Gaius marched in the rear of the Roman formation, which moved slowly down the embankment of the Trebia River, his mind still drifted back to Julia. He knew it was wrong to continue to think about her, so he struggled to keep focused with each step he took.

A lingering fantasy played in Gaius’ mind that he could win enough honors in the coming battle he could go back to Rome and demand Varro present Julia to him as a prize, much like his own father won his mother in the previous war with Carthage. However, that fantasy was an illusion, which angered him and made his already cold and restless nights all the more tiresome. It affected his duties as he was quick to anger, snapping at his men when their discipline lapsed for only a moment. He did not like the person that these feelings created. He did not know how to deal with them, but he soldiered on, nonetheless, hoping the pain would go away.

Gaius’ thoughts returned to the reality as his foot kicked over a small stone that rolled down into the cold water.

The pace was unbearably slow, made worse by the snow that blinded the army’s advance. Ahead, Gaius could see through the fog the main formation of Sempronius’ lines. They were only two men across, not ideal for a quick defensive formation if an attack should come from the trees. There was no other choice as the riverbank and the sloping hills, surrounded by thick forest, had forced the legion to travel in a long line.

Gaius glanced over his shoulder, seeing Valerius, who rode on horseback a few paces behind. His old mentor did not look happy. Gaius had never seen him more on the edge as he silently cursed Sempronius’ impatience, despite his warnings that legions should not advance in this ma

Earlier in the morning the consul summoned all his senior officers to his tent. The legions had been attacked daily since it had camped some miles from their current position days before as Ha

Gaius knew the moment that he laid eyes on Sempronius this morning that the mad was deathly sick, and clearly not thinking straight. He was ru

Sempronius wanted, needed to confront Ha

Several paces ahead of Gaius, he heard one of the legion prefect’s call-back, demanding that the rear guard, which comprise of the first cohort of the Sixth Legion and two cohorts of auxiliary troops to maintain the pace, as it seemed to be falling back from the main body.

“Bloody fool should get his ass back here and see if he can keep this pace up,” grumbled Valerius, which even Gaius, heard from where he was standing.

Gaius looked out towards the looming trees as visibility was becoming especially difficult as the snowfall picked up, coming down in violent sheets. It was nearly impossible to see anything beyond the faint outline of the forest, but then, for only a moment he caught sight of something standing out among the trees, staring right toward him: a white wolf.

Everything was eerily quiet, as if the world, the army, and his surroundings faded away until only he and the wolf, which stared at Gaius with unblinking eyes, remained.

Gaius felt himself reaching up to his chest, before placing his right hand over the spot where he wore the broken half of the clay medallion that Antony had given him ten years ago.