of the city went up in flames. Those few days, well, I’m glad you weren’t here to see it, sir. I don’t enjoy putting the sword to our people, but orders are orders.”
The guard captain sighed heavily as he spoke again.
“Will there be anything else, sir?”
“No. Thank you. Carry on,” Gaius answered. The captain saluted and then rushed off, barking orders at his men as they continued to hold back the mass of people beyond the gates. Gaius hoped, but knew it was wishful thinking that this same scene wasn’t repeated at every entrance to Rome.
“Well, what do we do now,” Maurus asked, having overheard the entire conversation.
Gaius wasn’t too sure. He had been hoping to rejoin Valerius and Sixth Legion up north, but that was obviously out of the question now. At the moment, however, only one other person came to mind.
“I need more answer as to what is going on. Come, gather the men, we march, now,” Gaius replied.
The streets were nearly empty save for a few citizens who ran, with fear as they saw Gaius and his men marching down the narrow road. It was eerie. He was used to the volume of business and trade that normally occupied every block, but what greeted him was empty shops and boarded-up windows. Soldiers were everywhere, patrolling with orders to take anyone into custody that were out passed the curfew, or looting those shops that were abandoned or burnt-out.
Gaius understood the reasoning behind the riots well enough. Two armies sent north, tens of thousands of men and two consuls, dead, left to freeze in waning winter months before the thaw. The mob wanted answers as to why their fathers and sons would never come home — what was the Senate going to do, and how would it protect Rome from Hannibal, who was fast become a man of mythical standing. However, the sights that Gaius witnessed, the stacks of dead, piled up like winter logs on carts, the smell of lingering death and burnt wood, and the sense of sorrow and hopelessness was overpowering. Rome felt like a blotted corpse — a defeated city, and Hannibal wasn’t even within sight of its walls.
For the moment, Gaius’ only concern was checking on his friends. He prayed every step he made that Antonyand Julia were safe. Had they left Rome before the riots, or had they endured? These questions plagued him without end until finally, he saw his destination as, he, and his men marched around the block, and turned down the street that led to Varro’ estate.
Gaius’ eyes opened wide as instinctively his right hand fell to the hilt of his sword, when he saw two dozen men, armed, standing outside the home of Antony and Julia. With them were several more slaves as they moved an assortment of furnishings, statues and other personal items into horse-drawn wagons.
“Looters, you suspect?” Maurus asked as he saw Gaius’ sudden reaction.
“I do not know. However, they don’t look too friendly. Stand ready on my mark. I don’t want to give them a moment to act if this should turn bad.”
“Never fear, my friend, we have the numbers,” Maurus mussed.
“Numbers haven’t worked so far in our favor,” Gaius added.
The steady marching of his men quickly drew the attention of the armed men around the home of Senator Varro. Their leader, a tall broad-shouldered man, shaved head and numerous scars, most likely a former gladiator, eased his hand over his sword, watching with careful attention as Gaius and his century came closer.
Many of the big man’s men weren’t as seasoned, or ready for a fight. Some seemed panic by the sight of a hundred Romans marching towards them, but still, more than a few stood ready to fight if one was called for.
“I am Centurion Lucius Gaius of the Sixth Legion,” Gaius called out with a firm and commanding voice, one that showed nothing of his apprehension. “And I am looking for the master of this house, or his children.”
The leader of the gang sneered as he stood firmly between Gaius and the entrance into the house. Smoothly, not quickly, he drew his sword, but held it down in a relaxed position. Gaius in return did not order his men to draw their weapons, even though many of his boys were edgy about drawing their iron.
“You can look, Centurion Lucius Gaius, but you cannot see,” the gang leader replied with a strong hint of distaste in his voice.
It was then that Gaius wondered if these men weren’t here to rob Varro’ home, but hired to protect it. If so, a hundred Roman soldiers marching toward the front gate could be seen as an act to arrest Varro, who would be paying these men to keep him safe. So, Gaius eased himself, controlling his next words so not to sound too threatening, but still remained firmed in his determination to get through those gates.
“I am
The gang leader smiled as he leveled his sword, aiming its point at Gaius. This action caused nearly all of his men, those most eager for a fight, and not fearful of Roman soldiers, to draw their weapons.
There was nothing Gaius could do to stop his men from responding, as a hundred swords were pulled, save for his own. He did not want blood to be shed, but he doubted words were going to work against this man either.
“The senator has all the protection he needs. Now, be gone with you, before I carve my name in your pretty young face.”
The threat was implied, and Gaius knew this man would not allow him to say another word before a sword came at his head. There was only one course for him to take right now — he needed to see Antony and Julia — he promised to keep her safe, and a gang of thugs weren’t going to stop him from keeping that oath.
A voice called out, distracting everyone’s attention away from the conflict.
“Enough! Stop this madness, at once! Move aside you bloody fool, now I say!”
Gaius realized it was Antony’s voice before he saw his friend push his way between the hired goons.
“By the grace of Jupiter almighty, Gaius, you’re alive!” Antony cried out as he rushed over and embraced his old friend, throwing his arms around him without holding back his joyful emotions.
“What is happening here, Antony?” Gaius demanded as he nodded his question toward the big lug that stood before him.
Antony glanced back and leered at the gang, unable to hold back his anger.
“Lower your damn weapons, I command you! Who do you think you are raising swords against a Roman officer?!'
“We are only doing the job your father paid us to do,” the gang leader replied, but he did as he was told as he withdrew his weapon, but clearly unpleased about Antony’s tone of voice.
“Ignore them, Gaius, they are goons hired by my father to safeguard our home and us from the rioters — mindless dogs, nothing more. Come, bring your men inside.” Antony waved his hand violently at the gang leader as if he was shooing a fly from his path, before he led Gaius and his century into the courtyard of his father’s home.
“Bring water, and food for these men, at once!” Antony demanded to a group of slaves who were busy moving furnisher from the house. They dropped what they were doing and ran off, gathering more help as they carried out Antony’s demands without question.
“What is going on here, Antony?” Gaius asked.
Antony sighed deeply as the first group of slaves brought back buckets of water and fresh-baked bread. Maurus took command as he directed the men to corners of the large courtyard, while issuing twenty men to stand watch by the front entrance, clearly none-too-trusting of the gang beyond the walls.
“My father, he is running, like many noblemen have done over the past few days. He is packing our stuff and moving us to our country estate where we can be better protected, or so he would hope.”
“You are no safer out there, not with Hannibal and his horde running about unopposed,” Gaius commented.
“I know, but there seems no place safe, regardless. He acts out of fear, nothing more.”
“It is that bad?” Gaius asked.
“I’m afraid it is worse,” Antony shook his head. “Once word reached the city about Flaminius’ death and the defeat of his army, the people demanded answers from the Senate. However, those old fools had no answers to give. Some ran, fleeing for their own estates, or heading elsewhere out of Italy. The people, well, they just went mad.”
