Swords of Rome (54 page)

He had lost count how many men he had killed or wounded. He himself
already sustained half dozen cuts upon his body, but thankfully, his superior armor protected him from anything too serious. Most men he shoved his sword into didn’t even see him. It was the nature of the conflict. With so much dust and chaos surrounding the battlefield, men just pushed and thrust into anything that moved either before them, or to the sides. It was becoming hard to distinguish friend from foe, and these were merely the early moments of the battle. It was only when the tip of his blade met resistance, and then the splatter of blood that Gaius knew he had actually killed someone. Soon, however, most of the riders on either side of the battle had dismounted, either because their horses were struck down, being as they were a bigger target than the man who rode them, or forced down.

Out from the dust and clamoring of bodies Gaius saw him, the only man among this enemy army he had been searching for, Calfax.

The former gladiator seemed to notice Gaius at the same time. They were both still on their horses, less than fifty paces from one another. For just a moment their eyes locked, and then Gaius roared as he encouraged his horse to charge.

Calfax soon did the same as the two men galloped through the fighting that was taking place all around them, and readied to face the other, picking up where they had left off.

As Gaius neared the man, he had faced only once before, that night, five years prior, just days after the battle of Cannae, he could see the horrors in his mind’s eye that Calfax had overseen in his camp – the murdered, and tortured Roman captives whom he had tried to save. Those images had forever stayed with him, haunting his nights, pushing him to the brink of insanity at times. He swore some nights, as he lay awake in his bed that he could still smell and taste the cooked human flesh of his countrymen. What Calfax had done was inhuman. His hatred for everything Roman boiled over into the rage that had sustained the old man for decades. When he was finally given the chance to break the bonds of his slavery, he did not seek freedom, but revenge for the injustice that his Roman captives had done to him for more years than Gaius had been alive. 

He knew without a doubt
Antony had died at Calfax hands - the man wore the medallion that had become the symbol of two boy’s brotherhood – a lifelong promise that they would always be there for one another, fight and defend the other from anything, man or monster. Gaius wanted that broken half of the medallion back more than anything, and he was just seconds away from rejoining the two pieces. 

When he was within range, Gaius threw himself forward, off of his horse and right at Calfax, who had no time to react as the younger man’s body hit him with all the force and speed that Gaius had been traveling before his daring leap of faith.

The two men fell to the ground. Gaius hit hard, landing on his side and rolled several more feet before he finally stopped.

The hard earth beneath him did nothing to cushion his fall, but his armor had saved him from any serious injury beyond the gash to his head as his helmet was knocked free.

The old gladiator fell onto his back and rolled once before he stopped.

As Calfax stood to his feet, it was painfully clear that he had broken several ribs on
his right side, but despite the pain, he stood his ground and reacted quickly as Gaius charged at him once he was back on his feet. 

Gaius’ blows came savagely. Years of
built-up rage poured out of him as he struck at the old gladiator time and time again. He forwent any form and any practiced training, and just attacked with all the force his younger body could bring.

Calfax, with decade’s worth of experience expertly dodged or blocked Gaius’ savage beating, but the younger Roman was, for the moment, too quick for him to counter against.

The two men covered several meters in a matter of seconds since the first blow had been struck. Both ignored the battle that was happening all around them. Neither man cared at this moment which side was winning the battle even though both knew what should happen if one faction should faultier and collapse.

The world was
just them, which was just as Calfax wanted – this was his arena – man to man with one possible outcome.

Gaius charged again, swinging high, hoping that the tip of his finely crafted sword, the very sword that had once belonged to
Valerius, would contact Calfax’s throat. However, the experienced warrior dodged the oncoming attack with ease, and then quickly struck low. 

Gaius felt
it; a fast and painful sensation as the tip of Calfax’s slightly longer sword sliced right across his lower thigh.

Instantly, he felt the weight on that leg gave way, but he forced himself to counter balance and remain standing. Calfax, however, had a clean shot if he took it. Gaius’ defenses were down for a fraction of a second,
yet the old gladiator did not attack. He instead stood back and allowed Gaius to regain his footing and level his defense.

Calfax attacked this time. Gaius tried to hold his ground but the older man was surprisingly faster, stronger and now enraged with the memories of what Rome had done to him long ago.

Calfax cut into Gaius’ sword arm. The blade sliced deeply into his
biceps, which splattered blood across the already soaked battlefield.

Gaiu
s had no time to even scream before another savage attack hit him – this time Calfax’s blade cut across the side of his neck. He had only managed to turn just enough that the blade didn’t tear more than an inch into his flesh, but still, the damage was done.

“Rome made me
the best – a better fighter than I ever was. And for that, I thank you. For it has given me the means to slaughter your kind for years now.”

Gaius couldn’t lift his right arm as it dangled down to his side; his fingers just barely gripping the hilt of his sword as he back stepped, trying to put some distance
between, he and Calfax, who advanced slowly on him.

When Calfax attacked again, seeing that Gaius was all but done for, his sword found flesh two more time, and on the third attack, even as Gaius’ blood continued to flow out from his numerous wounds, Calfax slammed the butt-end of his sword up against the back of his skull.

Gaius slumped forward, falling to his knees, but still strong enough that he didn’t drop completely to the ground. 

Calfax circled him, as he did not get up – did not
seem capable of getting up as he bled and breathed heavily – his eyes staring up at the superior warrior as Calfax stopped before him and looked down at the young Roman, who had challenged him.

“You, young one, represent everything that I hate about your people – what you have done to me. You may win this war, but you will not stop me from fulfilling my destiny. I will
at no time stop until I see your city and its people burnt from this earth and blown to the wind, never to be remembered.”

The image of Julia flashed across his mind as Calfax said his last words. He
swore  long ago to protect her from the monsters of the world. And while that promise had been made by a boy who dreamt of myths and legends, Gaius had found that monster, and he was very real.

He
failed to live up to his promise.

Unable to move or raise his weapon to defend himself, Gaius
was going to give in. He sat where he had falling, on both his knees before Calfax, but somehow, Gaius found what little strength he had left, and spoke.

“I pity you, gladiator. I’m sorry for what we did to you.” His words were barely audible, but Calfax seemed to understand them good enough as his expression changed suddenly to confusion, and then pure rage.

“I am sorry for everything we did to you.”

Calfax stared at Gaius with a dumbfounded expression on his face, as his mouth closed and his eyes seemed to widen.

For a moment, Gaius saw the old man for who he was, what had happened to him, and what he had been forced to endure. He seemed ancient; a warrior from another era when men lived with honor and dignity.

He could see through Calfax and knew that he had once been a man very much like himself - a man
who had loved someone as much as he loved Julia. However, that man was gone now. He had died the day his wife and children were taken away from him. He was something else now; a product of Rome’s own dark soul.

“And I
forgive you,” Gaius finished.

Then, that small moment had
passed. Calfax’s anger boiled over as he leered down at Gaius and cried out with a bellowing voice, “I do not want your pity, Roman! I just want you to die!” 

Gaius closed his eyes as Calfax raised his sword up over his head and readied to plunge it down into his chest. In his
mind, he saw his beloved, smelt her, felt her and held onto that image, as long as he could before he drew upon what little strength he had left. And then, as he opened his eyes once more, just for a moment, through the thickening of the dust fill smog, he saw the white wolf, standing, poised, looking at him for just a moment before it was gone in the rising heat.

Before Calfax’s final blow could come,
Gaius suddenly rose to his feet, his right arm, which had dangled uselessly down by his side, shot forth and plunged the tip of his sword into Calfax’s chest.

Calfax’s eyes opened wide as he looked down at the ivory handle of Gaius’ sword sticking out of his chest, shocked and amazed by the sudden realization that Gaius had faked his apparent weakness, but had kept just enough strength in reserve and bought his time, knowing that he was desperately overpowered and outclassed by the seasoned gladiator.

And then, Calfax’s grip on his sword faltered as he looked up and stared into Gaius’ eyes, as he pushed his sword even deeper. 

Gaius reached with his freed hand and grabbed the clay medallion that hung around Calfax’s neck, and with on good tug, he ripped it off from the gladiator’s neck.

“This does not belong to you,” Gaius said as he broke the leather strand that kept the medallion in position.

And then, with one forcefully tug, Gaius withdrew his sword.

The old gladiator’s eyes rolled back into his head as he slumped down onto his knees, still staring up at the young Roman, who had bested him, gazing with puzzlement, and then, fell face-first into the dusty sand that lay beneath his feet.

Gaius dropped to his knees, no longer able to stand as his wounds had finally gotten the better of him.

He looked around as he heard the sound of a distant horn blowing, and for a moment, he thought that it might have been a Punic rallying cry. However, then he heard it again and realized it was coming from his men – his Wolves had broken the Carthaginian lines and were now pouring through their ranks as those that still lived, turned and ran.

He would not see the end, but he knew what its outcome would be. Rome had won, and his men had succeeded as the backbone of Hannibal’s army had been broken, seemly at the same time that Calfax’s own heart stopped beating.

Gaius closed his eyes and allowed his world to slip away as his men all raced pasted him, onward towards Hannibal’s rear, which was already engaged with the main Roman front, but would not break as Rome had at Cannae.

Soon, the sounds of the battlefield left him. The world around him became quiet as he returned to a better place, a home he had not seen for many years now – a distant house, alone in the hills surrounding by lush green fields – a place he remembered from his childhood.

When his feet touched the road that led to the far-off estate, he saw her, Julia.

Oh, how he marveled her at beauty – how he craved the touch of her lips and longed to hear the soothing sounds of her voice. He had longed for her his entire life, an impossible dream that had come true. She was his soul, his reason for living each new day, and for her, he would always protect
her from the monsters of the world, even at the cost of his own life.

Unlike in his dreams each night, this time, however, Gaius did not wake up. He did not hesitate to keep walking forward until she was in his
loving embrace once again.

His war was over. Now his life could begin – a perfect dream made real.
For her he would live and endure.

En
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