CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Eleven days after the Battle of Trebia
The migration of five thousand people marched over the countryside as they tried as best they could avoid any of the main roads or settlements throughout the region. This collection of bodies wasn’t an army, nor was it heading north to confront the invaders. These people were innocent civilians: men, women and children driven from their homes, and forced to flee for their lives.
It was Gaius’ responsibility to protect them.
He watched them carefully as they walked, rode or be carried in carts across the cold, snow-covered earth that offered little in the way of fresh game or dry wood to build fires at night. Their destination was Rome, Capua, or any other heavily populated city in the Republic that could shelter them until the threat of Hannibal, and his horde passed.
The people were a ragged collection. Most were on the verge of starvation; half probably wouldn’t make it to their destination before they froze to death as the nights had gotten colder. However, they had no hope. Hannibal’s tribes ransacked the northern country, pillaging, murdering, and raping. This was done even though envoys from Hannibal had promised sanctuary to any Italian settlements that stood with him against Rome, or offered his army shelter and food. Nevertheless, even those too afraid to stand against him, were terrorized by the barbarians, who cared little for Hannibal’s promises. They were here to claim what they wanted, earned in blood.
Gaius and his century of a hundred men had spent the better part of the past two weeks, since Trebia protecting those he could as they moved away from the conflict zones. When able, he chased down rogue elements of Hannibal’s army and put them to the sword when opportunity presented itself. However, his primary orders were to avoid contact with the enemy, and to remain off the main roads leading to Rome.
Two days ago, Gaius got word from a rider sent by Valerius that he, along with the survivors from Trebia had linked up with a new army sent by Rome, which included the rest of the Sixth Legion. They, forty thousand strong, under the command of Gaius Flaminius, moved to find Hannibal. Gaius wanted to reach Rome, rest and regroup before his century rejoined their commander.
Storm clouds filled the sky, moving in fast from the north and sweeping down across the country like a blanket of death. As rain began to pour, it brought renewed misery to the refugees. While still midday, already the sun struggled to cast its light down on the land.
As lightning streaked across the sky, Gaius noticed three riders racing towards him, Maurus leading them. He had sent him out two days ago to scout ahead, and wasn’t expecting him back for another day, not unless he found trouble that called for Gaius’ attention.
“Gaius,” Maurus cried out as he stopped his horse before Gaius’ own. “Smoke beyond the horizon, big, but not large enough to be caused naturally, I fear.”
“There are no settlements or villages in this region,” Gaius pondered.
“None that I’m aware of, but I fear we may both be mistaking.”
Gaius knew he should ignore the warning, or at the very least, redirect the refugees. His men were not fitted for another confrontation, nor could they risk drawing a large raiding party towards the civilians. There would be nothing his lone century could do to prevent their slaughter. He knew, however, that he wasn’t ready to allow another massacre to happen, not if he could prevent it.
With a heavy heart, weighed down by the burden of command, he said, “I want twelve of our best riders and swordsmen. Bring them to me, and then you’ll lead us to the fires.”
“Is it wise?” Maurus asked, not for fear of battle, but to be the voice of reason in case Gaius was acting foolish.
“Another two days and the civilians will reach Rome. If the barbarians have come this far south from the frontier, we at least have to know, or risk attack on our rear,” Gaius confirmed his reasoning, which brought a welcome smile from Maurus, who quickly rode off to carry out his orders.
What little sunlight managed to break through the heavy clouds had vanished as it descended under the western horizon two hours ago. The darkness provided Gaius and his men sufficiently cover to reach the outer walls of a large estate, unseen, which was big amply that it most likely belonged to a wealthy citizen, perhaps even a senator; the high walls that encircled the property, however, didn’t allow Gaius to see beyond the walls to what was inside.
The fire that had consumed the estate had been nearly burnt out, which had survived hours, despite the heavy rain, since the smoke was first seen by Roman scouts. Still, embers burned in spots where the flames were the hottest.
Gaius slowly worked his way along the outer walls towards the front gate. A few bodies lay outside and on top the walls. None of them were dead Carthaginian or Gauls, Gaius noted, but slaves and hired guards, each of whom had tried to defend their master’s home. So far, beyond the few dead, he did not notice much else — nothing that would have indicated there was some sort of siege, or suggested the estate had been breached from the outside.
The heavy iron gates were swung open, which didn’t look as if they had been battered down, but left as if someone had had pulled them open from the inside. This conundrum peeked Gaius’ attention as, he, and his men worked their way to what he hoped would be answers.
Gaius led the first part, six men, including him. Maurus commanded the second group, which hurried over to the opposite side of the entrance and took positions alongside the wall.
None of his men wore armor or carried shields. The Romans carried only their swords and daggers, and had made sure to muddy their faces before striking toward the estate, where they left their horses on the other side of a low hill, with one man guarding.
Gaius took a deep breath as he peeked round the corner, fixing his eyes beyond the open gateway. He saw a few more bodies hacked to death; one lying in the middle of the entrance about twenty paces from him, another two slumped up against the walls, their bodies covered with blood as their heads were brutally mutilated lie a few inches from their owners.
With the few fires that still burned, Gaius saw nothing else — no one alive that was. He decided it was time for him and his men to advance.
Taken a deep breath, Gaius hesitated for a moment. He did not like this and wasn’t altogether sure he was prepared to face whatever might be beyond these walls. He wondered for just a moment if he was ever going to get used to death.
Putting caution behind him, Gaius darted around the bend and ran down the gateway, his men quickly falling behind.
An overturned blackened cart was his destination. Gaius threw his back up against it, half expecting to hear a sentry call out once he was spotted, soon followed by a volley of arrows or spears. However, there was no sound beyond the slight dripping of water, and sizzling as it cooled the smoldering embers of the burnt-out buildings.
The rest of the Romans hurried across the courtyard and also took cover; their swords held at the ready as their eyes and ears scanned the surroundings for any sign of movement. Like Gaius, they too saw nothing, or had been seen.
Gaius looked for Maurus, finding him knelt down behind a stack of wet logs. He hastily gave him a silent hand signal, ordering him and the rest of the Romans to move quickly and spread out, and begin their search for signs of life, or the attackers.
Maurus nodded his reply as he passed along Gaius’ instructions to those men around him. A moment later, everyone moved from their cover, hurrying as fast, and as carefully as they could. While they hadn’t been seen yet, that did not mean there wasn’t still a presence in the compound.
Gaius chose to begin his search of a long building that looked as if it had served as a storehouse. It was one
