Sometime later, as Valerius had gathered several hundred men to him, a blood smeared lad came rushing up to him, pushing his way between his tightly packed comrades and cried out, “Legate Valerius! I seek Legate Valerius!”
“I am here, boy!” Valerius called back, unable to see who called his name quite yet until the man pushed his way between two soldiers.
“Sir, Flaminius is dead, as well as his command staff and much of his legion. I was giving orders by Prefect Varo to seek you out, and to receive orders, if you were still alive that is,” the young soldier puffed between long and deep breaths.
“What is the status of his men, or any, for that matter?” Valerius demanded to know, forced to raise his voice as more barbarians poured against the shield wall his men had managed to form.
“We are near collapse. Two other legions and the auxiliary are already overwhelmed, beyond salvation. Do we stand and fight to the end, sir?” the boy asked, almost expecting that Valerius would demand such a foolish course — better to die brave than to return to Rome in shame.
“Don’t be so damn foolish. Order whoever is still in command of the legion to join with the Sixth, if they can manage. We are going to make a break, and just maybe take a few more of these bastards with us as we do. Perhaps we can use this damn fog to our advantage as well, before it lifts with the higher sun.” Valerius knew that not everyone was going to be saved. He was going to have to order that a full cohort would have to be left behind to hold the line. Their fates would be certain, but it had to be done for the rest of his legion, and what was left of Flaminius’ to break through the Carthaginian formations and make for safety.
“Wouldn’t it be best that we try for the lake, sir?” The boy asked.
“Boy, how well can you swim?”
“Not very well, sir.”
“Then don’t be a bloody fool. Now, be gone with my orders, and be quick about it.”
“Sir!” the legionnaire saluted, and then turned, pushing his way back through his comrades and out of sight once more.
“May the gods be with you, Gaius, for they aren’t with us now,” Valerius uttered under his breath as he watched a large formation of Numidian horsemen come charging toward his formation. He doubted suddenly that he would ever see Gaius again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Gaius pushed his way through the gathering crowd that stood outside the west gate of Rome, which had been sealed shout, guarded by a century of city cohorts that forbade entrance. For the thousands of refugees who'd fled into the city seeking refuge, this had caused panic.
The chorus of voices cried out, demanding that they be allowed within the city. This same scene was repeated at each of the city gates, some more violent as the people had been standing outside, undefended and exposed to the elements for days, at least what Gaius had heard since his arrival an hour prior.
Gaius didn't expect to see this many people. He and his men had just returned, crossing over the Tiber River a day ago. Now, after Rome had promised its citizens protection, the city was closed. He had noticed the white smoke that billowed from within the walls when he first arrived as if dozens, if not hundreds, of buildings had been set ablaze. Why, he hoped to find out soon.
As he and his century forced their way towards the gate, the mob swarmed. His men had to form a defensive line around Gaius, holding their shields up and basing away any that dared to challenge them, blocking thousands of fingers that were reaching for Gaius once they realized he was an officer, and could, perhaps, get them access to the city, or worse, held for ransom.
The peoples’ collective voices cried out, demanding help, stating they were hungry, that they had come to Rome for protection, and that it was the Senate's duty to allow them entrance.
“Get back you bloody fools! No entry I said, on orders of the Senate!”
“What is going on here?!' Gaius roared as his men pushed away the people that hung from the gate.
“What in Hades are you doing out there?” The soldier asked with a dumbfounded expression on his blank face. “There aren’t supposed to be any more men outside the city walls. Didn’t you get your orders properly?”
“Are you touched?! Open the bloody gates and allow us in before this crowd has our heads!” Gaius demanded as rocks, clumps of mud and other assorted garbage was thrown at his men with increasing ferocity.
“At once, sir — Open the gates!”
Two dozen guards rallied to the gate and took up formation, interlocking their shields together, ready to repel anyone who dared to follow Gaius and his men through.
Gaius’ men were barely able to hold back the rushing mob that ceased opportunity once they saw the gates were rising, as hundreds of bodies pressed forward.
“Forward, quickly!” Gaius yelled as he and his men rushed through the city gates.
Several dozen people took advantage and ran forward as well, forcing their way through. Their efforts were cut short as the city cohorts attacked them, beating anyone they grabbed with clubs before pushing them back outside. The larger mass of people met with the Roman formation once Gaius and his century were safe. They bashed blunted swords against their shields as they carefully marched.
Some of the bravery men challenged the approaching Romans, urging those behind them to try their best to overwhelm the guards, but most, fearful of bruise and broken bones, after watching other refugees beaten down, decided against heeding the encouragement from those in front.
Moments later, the savage beating of already sickly and starving refugees began as the city guards easily manhandled the mob back outside the gates, before the heavy iron bars came crashing down. Those that were still trapped inside, were rustled to the ground, their foreheads bloodied, arms broken, crying out in pain as they were dragged away.
“What the hell is going on here? Why are the gates sealed, and these people forced to suffer beyond our walls?” Gaius demanded between heavy breaths.
“I apologies, sir but two day ago the Senate declared martial law, recalling all soldiers beyond the walls back into the city, and the gates to be sealed until further notice. I wasn’t aware that any of our men were left outside during the recall,” the guard captain reported.
“We’ve only just returned from the north. Now tell me, why would the Senate do such a thing as forbade these people entrances into the city? Do you know what they have already endured? For crying out loud, man, there are thousands left along the road leading to Rome, dead, food for the birds.” Gaius could not hold back his disgust. He had promised those he escorted that Rome would be haven for them, that the Senate would embrace them and bandage their wounds. However, the sight upon reaching the city, and the fowl stench within Rome’s walls, made him sick to his stomach.
“I am sorry, sir. After the riots, which left much of the city in ruins, the Senate did what it felt was best.”
“Why then do the people riot?” Gaius asked, dreading what his gut was telling him. Rumors had already reached him, which he prayed to the gods couldn’t be true. However, from the sorrowfully stare from the guard captain; he knew the truth before a word was uttered.
“Trasimene, sir — Flaminius’ legions, all of them, to the last man — they are gone — thirty thousand men, just gone.”
“My word…” Gaius could hardly contain himself. He felt weak in the knees, his mind struggling to comprehend what his ears were hearing.
The guard captain scratched his head, seemingly trying to remember.
“There have been a few trickling in, here and there. Even so, the Carthaginians have been hunting them down, slaughtering them like wild game, or so I’ve heard. Needless to say, when the word reached the mob, well, they acted like anyone would, I suppose. They rioted, nearly burning down the Senate House. Damn near a quarter
