The Noise of War: A Tale of Ancient Rome (The Sertorius Scrolls Book 2) by Vincent B. Davis II

Author:Vincent B. Davis II [Davis, Vincent B. II]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thirteenth Press, LLC
Published: 2020-04-18T16:00:00+00:00

15

SCROLL XV

SEVEN DAYS BEFORE THE KALENDS OF JUNE 651 AB URBE CONDITA

A fter a few months of “training” with the Tigurini, which felt more like a seaside vacation, the Tigurini elders received word from the Cimbri that their forces were massing west of the Alps, and gave order for us to pack up our things and march to meet them.

In the interim, I stayed with the clan that had accepted me. We drank until late into the dark, and rose early to hunt during the day. Luckily, I had some experience with a bow growing up in Nursia, for they handed me one and expected me to be a contributor on their hunting expeditions. We brought back plenty of deer and boar, and to be honest I much preferred this meal to the allotment of grain and watery soups we received in a Roman camp.

As the Tigurini force marched loosely through the savage passes north of the Alps, I traveled with these men as well. They still seemed to revel in being away from home. They were hungry for war, and so told old tales, much embellished, the entire journey.

“What about you, Stallion?” the father asked me. When they asked me my name, I answered with the Gallic word for a male horse. It was what my comrades had once called me before they all died, and it seemed fitting that the name should continue a mission to avenge them.

“What about me?” I asked, shouldering my shield and spear.

“Tell us a war story. You’ve clearly seen a battle or two,” one of the sons said.

“I’ve seen many battles. But none so great as you brave warriors,” I said, the sarcasm not lost on them.

“What about your eye?” the giant I had defeated asked.

“And your leg too. We’ve noticed the hobble. You hide it well, but we have an eye for such things.”

We walked a few paces farther before I ventured to reply. “I lost it in battle with the Romans.”

“And your leg?” the father asked.

“Same.”

They exchanged a confused glance, and for a moment I feared that my phrasing had tipped them off.

“And so this is why you want revenge? This is why you want to kill Romans?” one of the sons asked, a mischievous grin on his lips.

“That is exactly why I want revenge,” I said. Afterward, I returned to silence, allowing the bards among us to spread tales of their personal heroism.

We marched on for a few weeks, taking a direct path to the Cimbri camp rather than sticking to the roads. We marched knee deep in swampland and crept over thick thornbushes in the middle of forests. The only thing better about marching with the Gauls than the Romans was the fact that we didn’t have to keep ranks, so at least we could go at our own pace. Father was a fat, old man, so he set the pace and we stuck by him.

When the Cimbri camp crept into view, we all gathered atop the precipice to gaze down on the Tigurini’s allies.

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