Whom Gods Destroy: A Novel of Ancient Rome (The Sertorius Scrolls Book 4) Read online

  Whom Gods Destroy

  Sertorius Scrolls IV

  Vincent B. Davis II

  Thirteenth Press

  Dedicated to Andre Majors.

  You were my friend, my brother, my partner-in-crime. Rest in Paradise, my friend, you earned it.

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  Contents

  Join the Legion!

  Reading Order

  Part I

  Scroll I

  Scroll II

  Scroll III

  Scroll IV

  Scroll V

  Scroll VI

  Scroll VII

  Scroll VIII

  Scroll IX

  Part II

  Scroll X

  Scroll XI

  Scroll XII

  Scroll XIII

  Scroll XIV

  Scroll XV

  Scroll XVI

  Scroll XVII

  Scroll XVIII

  Scroll XIX

  Part III

  Scroll XX

  Scroll XXI

  Scroll XXII

  Scroll XXIII

  Scroll XXIV

  Scroll XXV

  Scroll XXVI

  Scroll XXVII

  Scroll XXVIII

  Scroll XXIX

  Scroll XXX

  Word from the author

  Glossary

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Reading Order

  The Man with Two Names: The Sertorius Scrolls I

  Son of Mars: The Marius Scrolls I

  The Noise of War: The Sertorius Scrolls II

  Blood in the Forum: The Marius Scrolls II

  Bodies in the Tiber: The Sertorius Scrolls III

  Whom Gods Destroy: The Sertorius Scrolls IV

  Part I

  Scroll I

  The knife cut deep, and the victim made no sound of resistance with his dying breath. Blood seeped out and ran through the cracks of the marble altar. Torchlight flickered in the wind and illuminated the priest’s hands while they worked.

  I gestured for the men to stand fast and I moved forward, pulling my cloak under my chin and bracing myself against the strength of a gust.

  “What does it look like?” I asked the haruspex.

  His hands were slippery with blood as he meticulously peeled apart the liver, inspecting it for signs of the gods’ will.

  “What do you think?” He nodded toward the grey clouds in the distance covering the midday sun. I looked up anticipating the flash of Jupiter’s lightening or a crack of thunder.

  I peered over the priest’s shoulder, as if I might be able to spot some imperfection in the slaughtered lamb, but it just looked like a dead animal to me.

  He turned to me and gravely shook his head.

  “The gods’ will is uncertain, except for one thing: you must not sail tomorrow. Neptune forbids it.”

  “The liver tells you that?”

  He analyzed me with baleful eyes. “Correct, legate. A storm will come upon you, Triton’s scourge will pull your men to their doom and dash your ships upon the rocks.”

  I didn’t need a priest to tell me a storm was coming. The dark clouds moved swiftly and the nip in the breeze that always proceeded rain showers. The farmers would be pleased, to be certain, because the winter had been dry. But no one would envy those on the water.

  “I’ll relay the message to the commander. Gratitude.” I bowed to the priest and turned to leave, but he grabbed my wrist with his blood-soaked hands before I could descend from the altar.

  “Your commander… Didius, right?”

  “Proconsul Titus Didius is our commanding officer, yes.” I freed myself from his grasp, painfully aware of the warm blood now running over my fingers.

  “He is a prideful man. A good Roman, but a prideful one. Do not let his pride become hubris. Do not let his dignitas bring all of your men to their doom. You must not sail.”

  “What should I tell him?” I asked, frustrated. He was my superior after all. If he wanted to depart for Greece, then—gods be damned—we would. “Should I tell him he’ll lose his entire army if we do? Is there some sacrifice we can perform to appease the gods? I cannot return to him empty handed with only orders to remain idle.”

  He shook his head, disappointed. “There is no sacrifice he can make, and he will not lose his entire army. The propitiation will be who is lost on the way. Tell your general he can sail if he wants to, but only if he’s willing to accept the loss he’ll sustain. The blood will be on his hands.” He lifted his own to illustrate his point.

  I found Didius on the Field of Mars. Until then our interactions had been limited. He wasn’t a general like Marius—one whom you could approach with anything you deemed necessary. Didius expected the chain-of-command to be followed to the letter, and even as a legate I wasn’t to interrupt him unbidden. Didius seemed pleased to have a distinguished veteran on his staff but he made it clear we wouldn’t be friends.

  At least on this occasion, though, he’d requested my presence.

  He walked through the neat rows of his legion’s tents with parchment in hand, trailed by two slaves. I’d never seen a man write and walk at the same time, but Didius had a complete inability to sit still. He bore the parchment on a block of wood and signed each page, handing them over his shoulder for one of them to take.

  I hurried up behind them. The aroma of leather so common to Roman camps filled my lungs, putting me at ease, but only slightly.

  “Legate Sertorius, what does the priest say?” he said without looking up.

  I snapped to attention and offered a salute regardless. “Sir, the haruspicy were not good. The omens say we must not sail for Greece or we will experience great losses at sea. There will be storms.”

  He chuckled to himself and looked at the foreboding sky. “The gods truly speak to them, don’t they? The priests are so enlightened.” He shook his head. “Do the men know of the results?”

  “Those with me at the altar of Mars may have overheard, but I haven’t announced anything yet. I wanted you to know first and seek your instructions.”

  “You were right to do so.” He continued walking with long strides I had difficulty replicating. “We will not inform the men. Let this burden be mine and yours alone. No need to arouse the fears of the simpleminded rank and file.”

  “Don’t tell them, Proconsul?” I paced alongside him to see his expression.

  Didius finally stopped walking and handed off his parchment. He approached me and crossed his arms. Rumor had it he was a champion wrestler in his youth, and it wasn’t difficult to believe. His forearms were thick and sinewy, his chest broad. He stood a head taller than me. He was an imposing presence with his stature alone, but the coldness of his grey eyes could stun men into submission.

  “Legate, I do not believe in the gods, omens, or auspices. I especially don’t believe the gods—if they existed—would speak through the liver of a slaughtered lamb. And here I am. The first of my line to be made Consul, a triumphant general in every command I’ve ever had. If there are gods out there, legate, they leave me alone. I’ll not remain in Rome a day longer than we have planned, regardless of what some half-blind dim-witted priest has to say about it.”

  I expected as much, but his candor in blaspheming the gods stunned me. I imagine there were plenty of men amo
ngst Rome’s elite who felt the same way, but very few would be so bold as to speak it into existence.

  “Understood, Proconsul,” I replied.

  I thought I heard a crack of thunder in the distance. Judging from the craning heads of the legionaries around us, I knew I wasn’t the only one.

  “It’s near war season, and I intend to make it to Greece by the Kalends of March.” He resumed his walk, thrusting out a hand for his documents.

  “Is this not a peacetime campaign, sir?” I asked. Of course it was, but I already knew it was erroneous to assume anything with my new commander.

  “For now. We expect no trouble with the Greeks. They’ve been beaten into submission for some time now. But I’ve worked too hard to secure the wealthy province of Greece to return home without a triumph, so at some point we will have to find 5,000 men to kill.”

  “On a peacetime mission?” I did not question what he meant about working hard to secure his province… they were supposed to be drawn by lot. He twisted his neck to pop it, poorly restraining his irritation at my insolence.

  “Correct, legate. My last command was in Macedonia. There we found a tribe of reprobates who needed to be wiped from Gaia’s earth. Now they are rotting on the fields of Pella and I am a triumphator. I will not be returning to Rome with less than I did last time.” Didius stopped again and met my eye. “Your job as my legate is to find the right men to kill.”

  I inhaled deeply and pursed my lips. He waited for me to acknowledge so I gave him a nod.

  “I’m glad we have an understanding. You and your ships will depart from Ostia at first light tomorrow.” He crossed his arms. “It’s inappropriate for the general to travel with his men, so I will be leaving from Brundisium as soon as my carriage can bear me there. In my stead will be my son, Publius. You will look after him for me, won’t you?”

  “Certainly, Proconsul.”

  “Good. He’s received his position as military tribune by his own merit. On this campaign I will regard him as an officer of the legion rather than my heir. He’ll have to earn everything for himself, as I did. But everything I do is for that boy. I push so far because one day he’ll be duty bound to outdo me. In the meantime, I need good officers like yourself to teach him all he needs to know.”

  This was the first compliment he’d given me, and I did not take it lightly. “I understand, Proconsul. You are a good father. I try to be one myself. If we’re indeed at peace in Greece I’d like to bring my wife and son for a time, if you’d permit it.” He peered at me through the corner of his eyes and gave an all-knowing smile, the first sign of humanity I’d sensed in him.

  “Our families can be our undoing. Remember this legate: Agamemnon conquered Troy because he was willing to sacrifice his own daughter for victory, even though she was innocent. Priam saw Troy burn beneath him because he refused to sacrifice his son, even though he’d been wrong.” He shook his head. “Remember this if you ever become a commander yourself. You must remain cold and pragmatic. It’s best for your legions, your career, and indeed even your family.”

  We walked to a campfire where several Mules were sitting around eating their evening meal. When they saw him, they sprang to attention and saluted, but he paid them no mind, still continuing to sign his name on document after document. Eventually he extended his hand, to which a legionary quickly passed a cup of water.

  Drinking deeply, he lifted one of the documents and passed it to me.

  “The commission for the men you’re bringing on this campaign. Who are they?”

  The document had the names L. Hirtuleius, Gn. Herennius, Au. Insteius, and Sp. Insteius listed, along with their ranks.

  “Tribune Lucius Hirtuleius is one of the finest officers I’ve served with. He served with distinction in the war against the Cimbri and Teutones.” I neglected to tell him we were childhood friends. “First Spear Centurion Gaius Herennius is a veteran of over twenty years, also serving with bravery and distinction in the war against the Cimbri. He will be invaluable in training up the new recruits.”

  “And the other two? The Sabine twins.”

  I hesitated and considered how honest I’d like to be. Aulus and Spurius Insteius grew up with Lucius and me. We’d been inseparable, the four of us. We all studied under the same tutor and played the same games. In the years since I departed for Rome, they’d both served as local magistrates in our hometown of Nursia, but neither had touched a sword. “Old friends.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “And that’s it?”

  “Correct, sir. They are good men and will become good officers. Serving Rome has left me with little time for companionship, so I’ve been forced to bring my companions with me.” He locked his eyes with mine, and I refused to look away until he cracked a smile.

  Didius poured some of the water into his hand and rubbed it over the close-cropped, white-gold hair on his head. “Most of my officers are selling positions to the highest bidder, so I can’t fault you for bringing along a few men your trust. As long as you understand you’re responsible for them.” He pointed at me.

  “Absolutely, sir… certainly.”

  “Hand it here, then. I’ll sign it.” He scribbled his signature and passed it off to his slave. “Go and reconvene with your legion. If anyone asks about the haruspicy tell them the results were favorable.”

  My heart sank. “Duty demands I not lie, sir,” I said as confidently as I could manage.

  He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Then cough and look the other direction or something. But you will be sailing tomorrow, along with all your men. You’ll carry them kicking and screaming onto the ship if you have to, but at first light oars will be slicing through the wake. Understood?”

  “Understood, Proconsul.”

  “Dismissed, legate.”

  That evening I took Arrea to the roof, bringing two chairs and an amphora of wine. We sat at the edge of the terrace and looked out over the city. Torchlight illuminated the temple steps at the base of the hill. A gentle breeze caused them to flicker.

  We sat in comfortable silence, my hand outstretched and holding on to hers. There was only one thing on our minds—my departure the next morning.

  “Can I refill your cup, dove?” I asked.

  “Still nursing it.” She swirled her cup around to prove it.

  “The roses are already blooming. Perhaps summer will come earlier than we expected,” I said, inspecting the flowerpots Arrea had planted on the roof a few weeks prior.

  She released my hand, tucked her knees to her chest, and wrapped her arms around them.

  “Do you need another blanket?”

  “How long do you think you’ll be gone?”

  The moonlight shimmered in her eyes as they peered into mine. Her hair was wild from an evening of packing and preparing for my departure, but she looked as beautiful as the day I married her. I found my gaze fixated on her lips, and I wondered how I would manage to be away from them for so long. All my ambitions and dreams seemed foolish and meaningless when I looked at her. Was it worth it, to be gone from her for so long?

  I inhaled deep and long and reminded myself why I accepted the command in the first place. “I don’t know. It could be a year or it could be ten. I expect the former. Greece has been free of conflict for years.”

  She shuddered at the thought. “Ten years… Gavius will be nearly the age you are now when you return.”

  “As I’ve said, dove—”

  “I knew what to expect when I married you, Quintus. You don’t need to explain yourself to me.” She stood and walked to the balustrade. “I just worry.”

  “About what? You can speak plainly.” I put down my cup of wine.

  “We’ve worked so hard to get you home. And I worry when you return again the campaign will come with you. I dread the anger and the drinking and—”

  “I know. Trust me, Arrea, I know.” I stood and wrapped my arms around her waist. “I fear it too. But I’m not going to let that happen. What sorrows have I to drown
out, eh?” I pinched her side to make her smile. “I’m married to a lovely woman, have great companions to keep me company, a good son to live after me. Fortuna has blessed me. And I will not allow my soul to be taken again.”

  She spun and threw her arms around my neck. “Oh, Quintus. I will miss you.”

  I closed my eye and inhaled the scent of her hair.

  I put a finger on her chin and raised it to look at me. She cupped her hands around my face before I whispered, “I will remember the way you are right now and remember this moment until I return to you.”

  “You must come home, Quintus. I need you. Do you hear me?”

  “Yes.”

  “No, I mean it Quintus. No heroics. Do nothing you’ll have to carry back with you. Go and serve and then come back to me safely, the man you are now. Because I love the man you are right now.”

  “I vow it, Arrea.”

  “I have something.” She revealed a leather pouch and handed it to me. Within was a gold signet ring, bearing the image of an eagle. I knew it well. My eyes shimmered.

  “Your mother told me to give it to you before you leave. She said it’s been yours since your father died but … she’s been holding onto it all this time.”

  “Do you know what this is?”

  “A signet ring, right?”