Part Two

“Hubris Undoes the Mighty”

Valens waited in the wings for the signal to dash headlong into danger. Last night’s bravado had faded, allowing his fears to mount. Expecting a more significant barbarian force, he thanked the gods, seeing his side outnumbered the other for his first battle. 

“Remember, lads. Speed’s the velites best defense. Dash in and out, nipping at the fringe. Don’t stop. Throw. Keep running.” A veteran said.  

His youth and inexperience had landed Valens in the velites unit. He wore no armor, only a wolf-pelt cloak for a uniform, and carried a small shield and several javelins. Tasked with harrying the enemy like a pack of wolves, Valens’s squad aimed to dispossess as many front-line barbarians of their shields as possible. 

Searching the ranks, Valens spotted Rome’s golden eagle glinting in the sunlight atop the signum. Crispus, garbed in gold and scarlet with a lion pelt on his head, bore the Roman banner as a weapon. He knew the officer relied on Mars for success in battle, but Valens felt better praying to Venus to protect the one he loved. 

“There’s our cue to advance! The battle begins! Fly, brothers! Fly like Mercury himself, and I’ll meet you on the other side!” the veteran shouted. 

Valens sprang into action, sprinting across the meadows toward the waiting barbarians. Numerous clumps of thorny brush dotted the fields, forcing the velites to weave between the razor-like briars. The effort slowed Valens’s pace, making him feel vulnerable. 

Nearing the uneven enemy lines, Valens targeted a foe and, using his momentum, threw his first javelin. His eyes lingered, watching the weapon arc through the air until striking his target’s shield. A triumphant whoop leaped from his mouth until he felt sharp thorns goring his legs. Valens halted, frantically kicking and pulling, scolding himself for forgetting the briars. The tangle fell to the ground revealing its dry, exposed roots. Surprised, Valens looked back to see a large hole where the briars had been.

Briars, back home, take two men to rip out. Merely running through these pulled the whole thing up. He thought.

Reconsidering the landscape, the unnatural pattern appeared obvious now. Realizing the enemy had transplanted the briar, Valens saw his foe in a new light. The Romans had foolishly assumed the barbarians were an unsophisticated lot incapable of devising such defenses. 

An arrow pierced the ground at his feet, wrenching Valens out of his reverie.

Fool! How long have I been standing here?

Vowing to learn from his mistakes, he leaped back into action, seeking targets for his remaining javelins. Valens focused on aiming and sidestepping briars; thus, he had no idea if he had disabled more barbarian shields. Throwing his last weapon with satisfaction, he hurried back to the relative safety behind the Roman legion.

His part finished, Valens accepted a proffered spear from one of the older soldiers and readied himself to provide cover for a fighting retreat if the prime soldiers failed.

“Will it be difficult to secure the bridge?” Valens asked. 

“Shouldn’t be. We’ve superior numbers.” an older soldier said. 

“My run wasn’t a complete failure. At least one javelin flew true.” Valens said. 

“One hit could alter a soldier’s fate for the better.”

“I guess.”

“First battle?”

“Yes.”

“Always the hardest. But, you’ve proved yourself now, lad.”

Valens watched a comrade limp back, shieldless, using his wolf pelt to staunch a spreading splotch of blood. He realized more than half of the velites had yet to return. Valens burned with shame for complaining about his scratched legs. Remembering Rome had the advantage here, he wondered how many wolves typically survived a run with worse odds. 

 Why did I make it? I should be dead.

Valens thrust the thought from his mind, returning his focus to the battle. The barbarians had managed to break through a section of the shield wall manned by less experienced soldiers. Valens watched Crispus rush forward, with the signum high, alerting everyone more support was needed. Soldiers shifted, forming a spearhead of veterans to push the barbarians back onto the bridge. 

“The enemy retreats! Is it already over?” Valens asked. 

“Wouldn’t be surprised if …”

A gurgle cut the old man’s reply short.

Valens turned to find the veteran soldier wide-eyed, clutching at an arrow in his throat. Stunned, he watched the man collapse, dead before hitting the ground. Valens struggled to grasp what had happened.

We’re out of range.

Valens stood frozen, listening to a chorus of sickening sounds as others dropped about him. He became aware of a growing rumble from behind. Valens turned to investigate, but someone slammed into him, knocking him to the ground and causing him to thwack his head on a rock. Dazed, gasping for air, he struggled to get up. 

What’s that noise?

A warm, stickiness oozed down Valen’s face stinging his eyes. Swiping his brow only brought pain and blurred his vision. Squinting to focus, he saw blood on his hand and panicked. 

Gods! I’m wounded! Venus, help me!

Valens felt the ground begin to vibrate. Peering back, he beheld a horde of barbarians fast approaching from behind the Roman lines.

Where in gods did they come from?

Valens discovered the answer to that question as a brute of a man materialized before his eyes. Another trapdoor to his left flung open, showering Valens with dirt and debris. 

The ground! They were hiding beneath us!

Everything made sense now. The briars were too readily unearthed because they hadn’t grown there. The thorny plants had probably just been moved to conceal hundreds of pits. The real barbarian army had lain in the ground waiting for an opportune time to ambush the Romans from behind.

Valens tried to call for Crispus, but his voice failed him as he passed out. 

I’ve decided to write a short story for each monthly prompt from a blog I’m following called Writer’s Unite. I missed the submission deadline this month and last. But, there’s always next month to get my act together.

Please visit Writer’s Unite and support all the authors who worked hard to craft a tale capturing the essence of this month’s photo. The site organizers aim to help writers gain more exposure.

The piece below is the first of several parts from my story inspired by February’s Write the Story Prompt on Writer’s Unite.

Once you read the story, you’ll understand my eagerness to post at least part of it by the end of February. After all, it’s supposed to be the month of LOVE!

Enjoy!

Part One

“You Pray to Your Gods and I’ll Pray to Mine”

The new recruit shivered, tightened his cloak, and leaned closer to the fire.

“Why Rome desires such lands baffles me,” he said. 

“A little snow won’t kill you. Besides, the countryside’s rich with timber and furs,” another said. 

“The forests of Lebanon provide plenty without the cold,” he replied. 

“We’re not here for spoils, lads.” an older soldier said.

“Then why have we come? No Roman would want to live here.” 

The old soldier nodded thoughtfully before smiling. 

“Name’s Titus. And you are, lad?” 

“Valens.”

 “Not wealth we’re after, Valens. Our legions march into this wilderness for one reason only.”

“Which is?”

“To hunt and kill every barbarian we find lest their numbers swell enough to breach even the walls of Rome,” Titus said. 

Cheers erupted from the rest of the company about the fire pit.

“But, Titus, must it be so cold? My breath turns to smoke, and my stones shrivel, threatening to fall off.” Valens said.

His comrades laughed, gulping more wine.

“This far north, best to find someone to warm your bed sooner rather than later,” Titus said. 

Valens glanced longingly at the ornate command tent. 

“I’ve already done so,” Valens said.

“Careful, lad. Only experience and skill in battle gives a man his place of honor here.”

“Are we to ignore the arrows of desire?” Valens asked.

“No, lad, as long as it doesn’t lead to trouble,” Titus said. 

“I seek no favor.” 

“I can see that. Otherwise, suspect you wouldn’t be sitting in the cold with us.”

The old man chortled, slapping Valen’s shoulder.

 “Ignore me, lad. I’ve grown old and leery of Cupid’s games.”

 With eyes wide, a soldier spat out his drink to whistle sharply. Everyone stood for the signifer, an officer, third-in-command of the entire century. Valens struggled to keep a straight face watching the man approach.

“At ease, men. I’m on no errand of business.” 

“How can we be of service, sir?” Titus asked. 

The officer inspected each man until resting his gaze on Valens. 

“I confess there’s one among you who’s drawn my interest. May I sit? Not as an officer, but as a fellow soldier.”

“A soldier’s always welcome about our fire,” Titus said. “Make room for a comrade-in-arms!”

The men shuffled, making space, and the officer pulled Valens into a warm embrace as he sat. 

“Suppose Valens has been complaining about the cold?” the officer asked. 

Valens harrumphed.

“You’d wither beneath the desert suns of my homeland,” Valens said. 

“A soldier does his duty wherever he has to.” The officer said. 

“As does this soldier.” 

“Yes, but not quietly.”  

“Pardon me, sir, but perhaps young Valens here has the voice of a future signifer,” Titus said. 

“Ha! Well said, my friend. Timon, is it? No, Titus! Please, call me Crispus. It is I who share your fire and drink.”

“What think you of Titus’s suggestion, Crispus?” Valens asked. 

“A signifer must embody Mars’s lust for war on the field. You’re bold, brash, and outspoken. Your skill in arms grows. Let’s see how you fare in your first battle tomorrow.”

“Are you ever afraid, bearing the signum on the frontlines? Or does Mars relieve you of such emotion?” Valens asked. 

“No. Fear enables one to find courage. Fear motivates.” 

“How so?”

“A good soldier fears dishonor, not death. Honor is everything.” Crispus said. 

“And love?” Valens asked.

“Love?”

“Surely love is what compels us to attempt the impossible.”

“Bah, love is weak. Love hampers a soldier, clouding his mind. Love causes men to lay aside arms hoping in vain to spare the weak.”

“And yet love leads nations to war. Love destroyed Troy.”

“Forget you, the tale of Achilles, Valens? Agamemnon angered Achilles with the theft of Briseis. Honor demanded he deny the Greeks their best warrior. And yet his love for Patroclus drew Achilles back to fight. The gods warned against it, to no avail. Love’s compulsion destroyed Achilles.”

“One mustn’t speak so! Venus is a jealous god. She suffers not the scorn of mortals.”

Crispus scoffed. 

“Are you a priest of the goddess of love?” 

“The blessed lady has always been my family’s patron. We honor love above all.”

 Valens removed a delicate chain from about his neck to present a medal to Crispus.

“What god do you serve first?” Valens asked

“Mars, of course.” 

“Our patrons are lovers. Explains our ready bond.”

“Treacherous Cupid’s arrows lead Mars to Venus’s bed. Truly, Mars is wedded only to war and the honor it brings.” Crispus said. 

“Have anything other than disdain for the goddess of love?”

“Let’s not quarrel. I admit life would be dull without the blessings Venus bestows. But, I mistrust her ways.”

 Crispus tried to kiss Valens. 

“Then I shall endeavor to teach you not to dismiss the power of love so idly.”

Valens stood to leave the fire. 

“I thought you were cold,” Crispus said. 

“Love will keep me warm.”

Crispus followed, smirking.

“Signifer! Any news? What awaits us tomorrow?” one of the soldiers called. 

“A river lies ahead with multiple crossings. The general has chosen us as a vanguard. Our task is to secure safe passage for the rest of the army.

“Do you expect much resistance, Signifer?” another soldier asked. 

Crispus laughed.

“Throw your javelins true, soldier. Soften them up, and I’ll take care of the rest.”