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    Marching With Caesar-Avenging Varus Part I
    Marching With Caesar-Avenging Varus Part I
    Marching With Caesar-Avenging Varus Part I
    Ebook708 pages14 hours

    Marching With Caesar-Avenging Varus Part I

    By R.W. Peake

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    “Is it true?”
    With these words, Giulia Livinius Volusenus knows her son’s world has been turned upside down with the revelation that the respected Roman Centurion, Titus Pullus, is his father. Even worse, Giulia knows that Gnaeus’ newfound knowledge means that her former, and recently reunited, lover is dead.

    Now everything Gnaeus Volusensus previously thought to be true about himself is to be questioned and revised. He has decisions to make that will affect his future and that of his yet-to-be-born children. There are also new Pullus relatives who bring with them a whole host of challenges, and threats.

    Meanwhile, with the mutinies by the Legions on the Rhine and in Pannonia finally quelled, Rome’s new Emperor Tiberius has turned his attention to avenging the slaughter of Publius Quintilius Varus and three Legions under his command by the Cherusci chieftain Arminius. It will prove to be an extremely trying time, not just for the Army of the Rhine, but for the Fourth Cohort of the 1st Germania, especially for Titus Pullus and the young Equestrian Centurion Gnaeus Volusenus.

    In this fifteenth installment of the bestselling Marching With Caesar series, the final months of Pullus’ life are explored. What events led up to his death? How did he save Volusensus by sacrificing his own life? Most importantly, will Volusensus be able to carry on the Pullus tradition of leadership in Roman Legions?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherR.W. Peake
    Release dateMar 21, 2019
    ISBN9781941226308
    Marching With Caesar-Avenging Varus Part I
    Author

    R.W. Peake

    I am a 63 year old retired Infantry Marine, born and raised in Texas and currently living on the Olympic Peninsula in Washington state. I have been writing since my first novel, written at the age of 10, when my friends and yours truly fought off the Soviet hordes, who just happened to pick my block to launch their invasion. That was their big mistake.But like a lot of dreams, it got sidetracked until recently, when I decided to focus my passion on an era and subject that interested me a great deal. Like my characters in Ancient Rome, I have served as the pointy tip of the spear of our nation's policy, and it is with this perspective that I tell the story of Titus Pullus and his friends.Marching With Caesar-Birth of the 10th Legion was my first published novel, and is the first in a completed series that covers the career of Titus Pullus, his adopted son Gaius Porcinianus Pullus, grandson Titus Porcinianus Pullus, and his great-grandson Gnaeus Volusenianus Pullus. The most recent release is Volume XIX, Marching With Caesar-Catualda the Usurper.I also have a completed alternate history series, Caesar Ascending, that imagines a world in which Gaius Julius Caesar survives the Ides of March, embarks on his historical campaign against Parthian...then keeps going. Originally it's a bid to outstrip the Macedonian King Alexander by reaching the Ganges River, but evolves into a decade-long campaign that finds Caesar and his Legions marching to the end of the known world in the form of the mysterious Islands of Wa, modern-day Japan.Finally, in 2020, I began The Titus Chronicles, with Volume I titled Eagle and Wyvern, which tells the story of a descendant of Titus Pullus, (though he's unaware of any connection), named Titus of Cyssanbyrig, who at the age of fourteen answers the fyrd sounded by the Saxon King Alfred, marching with Alfred and his army to confront the Danish King Guthrum, culminating at the Battle of Edington. Blessed with the same prodigious size and strength as his ancestor, young Titus learns he is the recipient of a darker gift, and in his first battle earns the nickname The Berserker.The Titus Chronicles mark the first of an extended genealogy of the original Titus that will extend across the ages as the story of a line of men who have been born and bred for war, and are witnesses to some of the great historical events of the ages.

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    Marching With Caesar-Avenging Varus Part I - R.W. Peake

    Marching With Caesar – Avenging Varus, Part I

    By R.W. Peake

    Also by R.W Peake

    Marching With Caesar® – Birth of the 10th

    Marching With Caesar – Conquest of Gaul

    Marching With Caesar – Civil War

    Marching With Caesar – Antony and Cleopatra, Parts I & II

    Marching With Caesar – Rise of Augustus

    Marching With Caesar – Last Campaign

    Marching With Caesar – Rebellion

    Marching With Caesar – A New Era

    Marching With Caesar – Pax Romana

    Marching With Caesar – Fraternitas

    Marching With Caesar – Vengeance

    Marching With Caesar – Rise of Germanicus

    Marching With Caesar – Revolt of the Legions

    Caesar Triumphant

    Caesar Ascending – Invasion of Parthia

    Caesar Ascending – Conquest of Parthia

    Caesar Ascending – India

    Critical praise for the Marching With Caesar series:

    Marching With Caesar-Antony and Cleopatra: Part I-Antony

    "Peake has become a master of depicting Roman military life and action, and in this latest novel he proves adept at evoking the subtleties of his characters, often with an understated humour and surprising pathos. Very highly recommended."

    Marching With Caesar-Civil War

    "Fans of the author will be delighted that Peake’s writing has gone from strength to strength in this, the second volume...Peake manages to portray Pullus and all his fellow soldiers with a marvelous feeling of reality quite apart from the star historical name... There’s history here, and character, and action enough for three novels, and all of it can be enjoyed even if readers haven’t seen the first volume yet. Very highly recommended."

    ~The Historical Novel Society

    "The hinge of history pivoted on the career of Julius Caesar, as Rome’s Republic became an Empire, but the muscle to swing that gateway came from soldiers like Titus Pullus. What an amazing story from a student now become the master of historical fiction at its best."

    ~Professor Frank Holt, University of Houston

    Marching With Caesar – Avenging Varus Part 1 by R.W. Peake

    Copyright © 2019 by R.W. Peake

    Smashwords Edition

    All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

    Cover Artwork Copyright © 2019 R. W. Peake

    All Rights Reserved

    For Brianna

    My Only Child

    And

    Still My Lodestone

    On Her Birthday

    March 23, 1979

    Still The Best Day Of My Life

    Foreword

    Of all of the books I have written, the reaction I got from the last in the Marching With Caesar® series, Revolt of the Legions, has probably been the strongest, which included a review that began with You bastard.

    Which, being honest, I understand, and when I wrote what became the Epilogue, I did not do it lightly, so I wasn’t offended. Frankly, I have been flattered by the response to the death of Titus Porcinianus Pullus, because it indicates that you, my faithful readers, have become as attached as I am to him; in fact, in some ways, I developed a deeper affection for Titus Pomponius Pullus’ namesake than for Titus the Elder. (Although, I have no plans to tattoo Titus II’s likeness on my chest as I did with Titus I.) I suppose part of it is based in an appreciation for what it’s like to try and follow in the footsteps of a legend, and the crushing pressure someone must feel when they share not only a name, but the same attributes that contributed to that success.

    When I originally started telling the story of Titus the Younger, I had every intention of having the grandson match the exploits of Titus the Elder, but as I learned more about the early Imperial period, I also realized how difficult repeating an ascent through the ranks would have been. The first Titus was born into an age where, because of the upheaval of not one but two civil wars, the social fabric of Roman society was rent in such a way that men of exceptional ability but low birth could climb not just the ranks of Rome’s Legions, but the Roman class system itself. His adopted grandson faced a very different set of circumstances, where the man who would become the first, and one of the greatest Imperators of Rome, held a tight and complete control over the Roman military, where promotions to the highest rank of the Legions were based less in competence and more in political reliability.

    Within that reality, Titus the Younger was hamstrung, and as his story developed, I at least attempted to portray how that would have impacted his outlook and I tried to have his character communicate first the recognition of this reality, then the ensuing frustration, before ending with the acceptance that he will never match, let alone eclipse the exploits of the man who he idolized, and who was as much of a force in shaping who he is as his father, Gaius Porcinianus Pullus. Just as Titus the Elder was able to take advantage of the opportunities afforded him by the events of the time in which he lived, his grandson is similarly constrained by the same thing; in that sense, both of them are victims of their circumstances.

    Which brings us to the proverbial elephant in the room, and the cause for the You bastard, and WHY DID YOU DO THAT? responses I have gotten about the sudden demise of Titus the Younger.

    I have been blessed in the sense that the stories I tell are interesting to you, my readers, and I have received enough correspondence, both personally and in the form of reviews, to know that one of the aspects of my books that readers appreciate is my attention to detail, and most importantly, my attempt to be as faithful to the historical record as I can. And, around about Rise of Germanicus, I began to realize something; the odds of three successive generations of men who fought under the standards of the Legions of Rome living to a ripe old age are on par with those that my Yellow Lab and namesake of the Prefect, Titus, will restrain himself from gobbling up the piece of ham I accidentally drop on the floor. In short, it ain’t happening, because it’s just not in the realm of possibility. Just like that piece of ham, Titus the Younger was destined for an early demise…even if I didn’t know it when I began.

    However, that doesn’t mean that the story of this family ends; in fact, this story, Avenging Varus Part I, introduces the next generation of the Pullus family, and almost as importantly, the children of Diocles. Oh, and in the process, young Gnaeus Pullus will be part of Rome’s revenge against Arminius that has been more than five years in the making, which means that there are quite a few challenges facing this young Roman who thought he was the son of a nondescript and comfortably prosperous Equestrian, but is instead the son of a man who, at least with the Legions on the Rhenus and in Pannonia, is a legend. And, more importantly, thanks to the exploits of his real father, he has attracted the attention of Germanicus…and of those Romans who view Germanicus as a rival and threat.

    As always, thanks to Beth Lynne for her stalwart work in saving me from myself, and for her immediately getting what I am trying to do here with this story. Astute observers will notice that the style of this cover is different than the previous fourteen of the MWC series, and that’s thanks to the efforts and brilliance of Laura Prevost. Hopefully, you’re as thrilled as I am with the results.

    Finally, and as always, I want to thank you, the readers who keep me going, and most importantly for my aspirations to never have to fill out another job application, have spread the word about Titus Pullus.

    Semper Fidelis,

    R.W. Peake

    Historical Notes

    As I did in the preceding Revolt of the Legions, I leaned most heavily on Tacitus, along with Dio, albeit not to the same extent as Tacitus. And, as I did with Revolt, I found Lindsay Powell’s Germanicus-The Magnificent Life and Mysterious Death of Rome’s Most Popular General, published by Pen & Sword Military in 2013, to be very helpful and informative. However, as I have in the past, I have taken the license that comes from being an author of historical fiction, not to alter events as much as take advantage of the gaps in the historical record.

    One thing I discovered as I delved more deeply into this era of Early Empire, there were a lot of moving parts involved in Rome’s attempt to avenge the Varus Disaster, and there’s a corresponding lack of detail, specifically where it involves the kind of information that someone like me who is writing about one Legion in particular would find useful. Still, it also gives me an opportunity to put Titus, Gnaeus, and their 1st Legion into the action, since the identities of which Legions went with which Legate, whether it was Aulus Caecina Severus, Lucius Stertinius, or Germanicus, particularly for the first part of the campaign, is unknown.

    Therefore, I place the 1st with Germanicus during the first phase of the campaign of 15 A.D., when the objective was to subdue the Chatti, while four other Legions marched with Caecina, whose task was to effectively pin the Cherusci in place and keep them from coming to the aid of the Chatti, one of the tribes of Arminius’ confederation.

    The second example is with the raid to rescue Segestes, where the historical record mentions it but does not go into any detail, particularly as to the composition of the force Germanicus led to rescue the Friend and Ally of Rome who had been the only German to try and warn Varus of Arminius’ coming treachery. Since we don’t know who Germanicus led on this foray, I used the latitude afforded a writer of fiction to insert the 1st into that part of the story.

    Also, when points of departure for the Legions are unknown, or unclear, I have placed them in one of the outposts that make sense from a narrative perspective, so some readers may take exception to the idea that the 1st departed from Mogontiacum, for example, when it would make more sense for them to depart from Vetera. Hopefully, if that’s the case, those readers will forgive me.

    However, when the identity of the Legions is known; for example, the 1st, 5th, 20th, and 21st, when they are ambushed by the coalition of the Bructeri, Tubantes, and Usipetes tribes during the abbreviated winter campaign of 14 A.D., I follow the historical record.

    When it comes to weaponry, the manuballista makes its appearance during the spring campaign of 15 A.D., and is based on the model found at Xanten, the modern name for Vetera, and my description of its accuracy, or lack thereof, is based strictly on my own supposition.

    Finally, as I always do, I try to be as meticulous about placing the action in the correct locations, and I always walk the ground through Google Earth to get an idea of what it might have looked like. Unfortunately, aside from the actual site of the Varus disaster, many of the locations, such as Tiberius’ Rampart at the headwaters of the Aliso, are supposition for the most part. Otherwise, I haven’t moved anything or altered the terrain for the purposes of the story. Also, long-time readers know that when I mention a river, I always will place the modern name in parentheses during my first mention of it, then I use the ancient name the rest of the time. Some readers might notice this isn’t the case with the Werra River, and the reason is that it’s one of the few rivers whose name hasn’t changed from the 1st Century A.D.

    Table of Contents

    Foreword

    Historical Notes

    Prologue

    Chapter One

    Chapter Two

    Chapter Three

    Chapter Four

    Chapter Five

    Chapter Six

    Chapter Seven

    Chapter Eight

    Chapter Nine

    Chapter Ten

    Chapter Eleven

    Prologue

    Is it true?

    Giulia Livinius Volusenus stood, having risen from her favorite couch, frozen in place, staring at her son Gnaeus, who, without any advance warning whatsoever, had somehow managed to obtain leave from his posting in Ubiorum, or so she assumed, to come to Mogontiacum where she now lived. Despite her shock at his sudden appearance in the villa that she had purchased, and the abrupt and seemingly elliptical manner in which he was addressing her, somehow, Giulia knew exactly what her son was asking.

    Nevertheless, she did not reply, looking up at him with an outward calm she did not feel, which prompted him to repeat, this time more distinctly, Is. It. True?

    There was a long silence, while mother and son regarded each other, the latter with an expression on his face that she had never seen before and could not readily identify.

    Yes, Giulia finally replied, hearing the quaver in her voice, but she was far more concerned with her son’s reaction to her confirmation; the gods knew as well as she did that Gnaeus had a volcanic temper, something that she knew he got from his father, his real father.

    However, his reaction not only surprised her, she found it quite worrisome, because he suddenly staggered to the nearest couch and collapsed so heavily onto it, she could hear the wood cracking, although it bore his considerable weight. For the rest of her days, Giulia Livinius Volusenus would remember the stricken expression on her son’s face as he regarded her with a look of such sadness that, before he uttered the words, although she did not know exactly how Gnaeus had learned the truth, she understood why.

    He’s… she began, then could not form the words, but there had always been a bond between mother and son that meant he knew her question.

    Yes, Mother. She could tell he was trying to imbue his words with a cold anger, but she heard the pain there. Titus Pullus is dead.

    Despite being certain this was the case, Giulia could not keep the sob from bursting from her, and, like Gnaeus, she dropped back onto the couch, where she buried her face in her hands, leaning her elbows on her knees as she began to weep. She was unable to see it, but her son’s rigid expression underwent a similar transformation, his own eyes filling with tears, both at the sight of his mother’s grief and for the sense of a loss that he could never have described, mainly because he barely understood it himself. Nevertheless, he did not rise from his seat to go to Giulia’s side to comfort her; there was still a healthy dose of anger in the swirling emotions he was feeling in the moment, and he did not trust himself to contain his temper. How could she have lied to him all these years, he wondered, as he stared at her heaving shoulders. She had not shown this much grief when Quintus Claudius Volusenus, the man he had been told all of his life was his father, had died unexpectedly, and it was this display of raw pain on her part that unsettled him, although that was not all of it. No, what had shaken him to his core, even before he had arrived in Mogontiacum with the 1st Legion and decided to confront his mother before the Legion left as part of the army under the command of Aulus Caecina Severus, was the recognition that, when the truth had been revealed to him in the form of the letter then the will of Titus Porcinianus Pullus, somewhere deep inside him, he had been fairly certain that Pullus was his real father for some time. Giulia would have been shocked to know that, as angry as Gnaeus was with her, a fair proportion of that rage was aimed at himself for being too cowardly to confront Pullus with his suspicions, which he knew now had been with him almost from the first moment he had met the Quartus Princeps Prior, although he had become the Quartus Pilus Prior at the time of his death. And, along with the anger was a massive sense of guilt, because Pullus had sacrificed himself to save Gnaeus’ life during the recently conducted surprise raid to rescue Segestes that had temporarily interrupted the campaign against Arminius and his confederation of German tribes to finally avenge the Varus disaster. What would have surprised Volusenus a great deal, at least until he gave it some thought, was that in this moment, the mix of emotions he was experiencing mirrored those his mother was dealing with, just a matter of a few feet away. Slowly, her sobs subsided, and so did Gnaeus’ anger, until she finally lifted her face from her hands, her eyes red and already puffy, her cheeks wet with her tears.

    Regarding her son for a span of heartbeats, she finally said, in a voice made hoarse by grief, I suppose we have a lot to talk about.

    This was such a massive understatement that, to his horror, Gnaeus’ first reaction was to burst out in laughter, but it was the kind that just as quickly transformed itself into tears, and then it was his turn to begin sobbing as his mother had, mimicking her posture to bury his face in his hands. In his case, it was to hide his shame at what he thought of as a display of weakness; Roman men, especially Roman Centurions, were not supposed to show this side of themselves, even in front of their mothers. Regardless of this, when he felt her gentle touch on his shoulder, without any thought about how it would appear to the servants, he buried his head in her breast, pouring out his grief for all that he had lost, before he ever had a chance to fully understand what it meant that Titus Pullus was his father.

    It took most of the night for Giulia to tell her son the story of her ill-fated romance with Titus Porcinianus Pullus, who she had met when he was still a young Gregarius serving with the 8th Legion in Siscia, the town where her father ran a prosperous business supplying grain, oil, and wine to the Army of Pannonia. One reason that it took so long was that it came in fits and starts, because Giulia would suddenly be overcome with emotion as she delved back into her past, remembering how she had been as smitten with him as he had been with her from the first moment, contrary to her outward attitude and treatment of the brash young Legionary who, despite being barely twenty years old, was already developing a reputation for bravery and prowess in battle. Her son sat there, rarely interrupting, awash in his own set of feelings, many of them directly conflicting with each other. When she began speaking, both of them holding cups of wine, his entire being radiated the anger that was still coursing through his body at his mother’s confirmation that Pullus was his father.

    And, at first, he was determined to remain angry, but as he watched his mother essentially relive what he understood was the most poignant, heartbreaking time of her life, Volusenus found that he could not hold on to the feeling of rage. Before she had even gotten to the moment her father had informed her that she would not be allowed to marry the man she loved, Volusenus felt tears threatening to push their way from behind his eyes, while his anger slowly but surely ebbed away.

    Before he could stop himself, he burst out, But why did your father forbid you from marrying him? I mean, he added, if he approached Pullus to arrange it.

    Giulia sighed deeply, taking a swallow of wine before she answered, and as she did, she regarded her son with an expression that he knew was meaningful, but he could not immediately place.

    Because Tata found out something about Titus’ family. She answered calmly enough, but when she said no more, it was only after her son pressed her that he understood why she had been looking at him in the manner she was, as she replied, He learned that, contrary to what everyone in Siscia thought, while Titus’ grandfather, the Camp Prefect, had been entered into the rolls of the Equestrian order, that didn’t extend to his son by adoption or the rest of the Porcinianus Pullus family. It, she finished, and her expression turned bitter, was a direct order by our beloved Princeps.

    This was the first moment that Volusenus was struck with feelings that were in direct conflict with each other; the anger was still there certainly, but in that instant, some of it was transferred from his mother to the late Augustus, while he felt a sudden and unexpected stab of indignation on behalf of a family of whom he knew only one member. That it was the man he had learned was his father explained the feeling somewhat, yet even in the moment, Volusenus was slightly puzzled that he should take this slight so personally.

    But why? he asked his mother. Why would Augustus do something like that?

    That, she sighed, was something that my father never learned. Giulia paused then, staring down into her cup, then she continued, But Titus told me what he thought was behind it. And, looking up at her son, Giulia’s full mouth twisted into a smile that Volusenus saw was full of bitter amusement, now that he’s dead, I suppose it won’t put either of us in any danger to tell you what Titus told me.

    For the next several moments, she recounted what her lover had related to her, during those relatively few and painfully brief moments when they were alone together, always in the spare bedroom of the apartment occupied by the long-time Pullus family servant Diocles and his family. What Giulia did not divulge was that, while she was presenting the first version Titus had expressed to her all those years ago, he had since related the details that he had learned, directly from the late Princeps, during his one and only face-to-face meeting with the most powerful man in the Rome. That this confirmation had occurred recently, during one of Titus’ visits to Mogontiacum, which had taken place without her son’s knowledge, was something that, in the moment, she decided Volusenus did not need to know, at least right then. Maybe later, she thought, as she continued talking, but not now; it would be too much, for both of them. Nevertheless, she did not see the harm in weaving in the details that she had learned from Titus over the previous several months but presenting it as if it had been told to her more than two decades earlier.

    Once she was finished, Volusenus’ demeanor was almost identical to his mother’s, as he sat there staring moodily down into his cup of wine, and he broke the following silence by muttering, So, your life was basically ruined because Augustus held a grudge against a man who served Rome faithfully and well for more than forty years.

    That Volusenus had characterized it in this way caused Giulia to experience a sudden flare of hope that, perhaps, her son might forgive her.

    The feeling did not last long, because he looked up at her, and she saw that the anger was not only still there, but was now redirected back in her direction, which he confirmed as he continued flatly, But that still doesn’t excuse what you did, Mother.

    Giulia sighed. How could she make her son understand? she wondered, although she was not particularly surprised by his attitude. Gnaeus may not have been his natural son, but Quintus Claudius Volusenus had managed to impart in her child a rigid set of morals, along with an unforgiving sense of judgment of others that, at least in her husband, had not been extended to himself. For years, Giulia had worried that Gnaeus would adopt both parts of this outlook, but she had been cautiously pleased to see that her son was at least aware that, if he wanted to apply such a strict standard of behavior on others, he was expected to toe the same line. Not, she knew, that he was always successful, but in that he was like most other men of this type.

    Gnaeus, Giulia’s patience, never her best asset, was wearing thin, but she tried to keep this from showing, I was young, and I was in love. In fact, she suddenly remembered, I told Titus that I was willing to run away with him and get married by a priest at one of the temples.

    This surprised Volusenus, and he asked with a note of incredulity, So why didn’t you?

    Because Titus wouldn’t allow it, she replied evenly. Since he was still a Gregarius, he couldn’t apply for a dispensation, so our marriage wouldn’t be legal. And he didn’t want me to be a camp wife.

    As soon as she said it, Volusenus realized that his natural father had been correct, and he suppressed a shudder at the thought of what his mother would have had to endure now that he had been in the Legions long enough to witness firsthand the kind of life the women and children of rankers faced. Regardless of this understanding, however, he was still not quite willing to let go of the anger that, whenever he was being honest with himself, he knew was always just below the surface even under the best of circumstances, and these were far from that.

    You could have let him know that you were pregnant, Volusenus said stubbornly. He deserved to know.

    This, Giulia knew, was nothing more than the truth, albeit a painful one, but she resolved to herself that she would tell Gnaeus everything and not leave anything out just because she found it personally painful, or in this case, shameful.

    Her tone was even enough, but Volusenus knew his mother well, and he plainly heard the bitter anger as she explained, Believe me, Gnaeus, I wanted to. But my mother wouldn’t allow it. She made it clear that if I tried, she would take…steps to punish Titus.

    Volusenus laughed scornfully, and in the thoughtless manner of sons, scoffed, And what could your mother have done to Titus Pullus?

    It took a fair amount of will on Giulia’s part to keep her anger from flaring; as accustomed as she might have been to the men in her life holding to the notion that women were weak and incapable of such things, it did not make it any easier to endure.

    With a patience she did not feel, instead of replying directly, she asked her son, Do you remember me talking about Plotina?

    This caught Volusenus by surprise, and he was forced to think for a moment before he said, Only a couple of times. She was your servant, wasn’t she? When you were a girl?

    That, Giulia acknowledged, is the bare bones of it. But she was much, much more to me than that. She was more of a mother to me than my own and was one of the most important people in my life.

    This clearly puzzled Volusenus, who replied skeptically, For someone you say was that important to you, I can’t remember you mentioning her more than three or four times in my entire life.

    Giulia had managed to stop crying, but now the tears came again, and her voice suddenly became choked with emotion as she explained, That’s because talking about her is too painful, Gnaeus. Her features, still beautiful despite what Volusenus thought of as her advanced age of forty-three, twisted into an expression that, had he ever met the woman, he would have known was identical to that worn by her mother Lavinia on a regular basis. The reason it’s painful is that, when my mother found out that Plotina had been helping, she flogged Plotina to death.

    This caught Volusenus completely by surprise.

    "Gerrae! I can see having her whipped, but having her flogged to death? Volusenus shook his head as he gave a low whistle. I can see why that’s painful, Mama."

    While she was encouraged by his use of the name he had called her since he could talk, Giulia comprehended that Gnaeus still did not understand, and she corrected him. "No, Gnaeus. She didn’t have someone flog Plotina. She did it herself. Ignoring his gasp, Giulia continued, She was happy to remind me about that whenever the mood struck her. And, she added, guessing correctly that Volusenus was about to point something out, she knew that she didn’t have any chance of doing the same to Titus herself, but she had enough money of her own that she could hire as many men as it took to kill him too."

    Now I know why you don’t talk about her either, Volusenus commented, which elicited a bitter smile from his mother, but he was not quite done with this topic, and he pointed out, But surely your father could have stopped her.

    The look Giulia gave her son contained a mixture of fondness and amusement, yet it was tinged with a sadness that was explained when she said, You know I loved my Tata, Gnaeus, I truly did. And I still do even now, and he’s been dead for several years. But, she sighed again, he was a weak man in many ways. Hesitating for a moment, she decided that this was a night to bare all, or almost all, and she went on, My mother had an affair with the Legate in Siscia when I was in my early teens. Giulia pretended to be staring down into her cup, but she was intently studying her son’s face through her lashes as she continued, It was the worst-kept secret in town, and my father was humiliated, as you can imagine. As was I, she added bitterly, recalling the one and only time she had confronted her mother Livinia about it, and had gotten a slap across the face for it, but my father still forgave her, and I never once heard him mention it to her, even when they argued. No, Giulia concluded, my father couldn’t have done anything to stop my mother, and it wasn’t just Titus I worried about. She paused to take a sip as she thought back to those days, which she related to her son by saying, Despite not being together very long, I grew very close to Diocles and his family. When she saw the quizzical expression on Gnaeus’ face, she explained, Diocles was the Prefect Titus Pullus’ slave. At least, that’s how he started out, but by that point, he’d been a freedman for a long time.

    Although Volusenus had only recently learned the name of this Greek, he was certainly aware of his existence, if only because he knew the Greek’s son; it was this moment he realized that his mother was not the only one who was not being completely forthcoming.

    That’s the father of Pullus’ clerk and scribe Alexandros, he said, mainly to stall for time to think, and for a moment, Giulia almost betrayed herself by agreeing, but just before she opened her mouth, she realized that by affirming she knew of this connection, it would require her to explain how she knew this was the case.

    Although it had not been without a certain amount of argument, Titus Pullus had agreed not to tell Volusenus that he and Giulia had renewed their relationship, just as she had prevailed upon him not to tell Gnaeus that he was his father. Not surprisingly, this had caused even more issues between them than the resumption of their relationship, and in fact, their last time together, before Titus left on what she now knew was his final campaign, had been quite acrimonious. This, she dimly understood at this moment, would be something with which she would have to grapple for the rest of her own time on earth; first, however, she had to get through this difficult night, although she also knew there was no way to avoid acknowledging that she had at least seen Titus when she moved to Mogontiacum.

    Giulia did not try to hide her relief when Gnaeus said, after a moment’s silence, I can see now why you didn’t let him know. But that sensation did not last long, because he glared at her as he continued, But once your mother was dead, you should have told me!

    While she understood why her son felt this way, she also was more certain about her decision in this matter, and she did not hesitate.

    To what end, Gnaeus? You were ten when she died. If I had told you then, it would have ruined your life. And, she was guessing, but it was a shrewd one, based on her intimate knowledge of her child, I suspect you know that.

    Volusenus did not reply immediately, but his expression softened, then he admitted, Yes, I do. I may not like it, but I understand. His features changed subtly, but even in the relatively dim light, what his mother saw in his expression gave her a hint of what was coming. Did my fath…did Quintus know that I wasn’t his son?

    In the brief time she had had to come to terms with not only the death of the man she loved, but the recognition that her son had finally learned the truth, Giulia had been dreading this, but once more, she did not flinch, replying tersely, Yes. He knew.

    She was not surprised to see that this clearly rocked Gnaeus, who actually jerked in a manner she imagined was similar to what he would have done had he actually been physically punched, which was accompanied by a gasp of shock.

    Pluto’s thorny cock! He blurted this, and out of habit, Giulia snapped, Mind your language, Gnaeus!

    Again, this was such an incongruous thing to say, given the subject matter, that Volusenus once more burst out laughing, except this time, she joined him, and before a span of a half-dozen heartbeats, both were consumed with mirth, although it was of the type that was tinged with equal amounts of grief and hysteria.

    Once they had regained control of themselves, Volusenus asked his mother, How could he have endured raising a son he knew wasn’t his? I mean, his mouth turned down, it makes sense now why we were never close. But he wasn’t cruel to me.

    No, Giulia agreed, he wasn’t, but that’s because I wouldn’t have allowed it. You do know that much, don’t you?

    I do, Volusenus admitted, but he was still troubled at this incongruity, which just served as another reminder to his mother how differently men thought about such things than women. Still, I suppose that I just don’t quite understand how he could treat me with relative kindness since he knew he wasn’t my father.

    Giulia actually hesitated, but then reminded herself that she had resolved to answer most of the questions her son had on this night, for all the secrets of the past to be exposed save the one that she and Titus had reunited, so she told him.

    It was because of money, she said frankly. Quintus was in massive debt, and my father agreed to settle them, along with giving him a large amount of money over and above the amount he owed. All he required was that Quintus treat me kindly and raise you as his own son.

    Of all the things that his mother had told him to this point, Volusenus was least surprised by this; in fact, he had surmised as much long before, although that did not necessarily make it sting less to have it confirmed. It also caused Volusenus to reflect on something that, quite unexpectedly, caused him to feel a pang of sympathy for this man who he now had confirmed was not his father.

    No wonder he drank so much, he mused aloud. It must have been hard for him knowing I wasn’t his son, but he had to treat me as if I was.

    This surprised Giulia, and her initial reaction was a flare of anger, but she forced herself to acknowledge that her son was making a fair point, and one that was made without the knowledge of how Quintus had treated Giulia, something he was at least careful to hide from Gnaeus, and for which she was thankful. Still, she could not bring herself to acknowledge her son’s observation, so she remained silent, which he noticed but chose to ignore. This also prompted her to change the subject, despite knowing that, as painful as this had been so far, it was only going to get worse, because the conversation would inevitably lead to learning how the man she loved died.

    So, she began, how did you find out that Titus was your father?

    Volusenus did not reply immediately, instead studying the contents of his cup intently before finally saying, without looking up, Before I do that, I need you to explain something to me that doesn’t make sense.

    Giulia felt as if her insides suddenly froze, but she managed to keep the strain from her voice as she asked lightly, Oh? What’s that?

    How could the Pilus Prior…my father, he corrected himself, albeit awkwardly, promise you not to reveal he was my father to me? I mean, he hurried on before she could respond, and now he did look directly at her, how could he have known about me if you disappeared?

    When Giulia opened her mouth, it was with the intention of denying the truth of this, but her mind quickly traveled down the path this lie would take, so that, just as quickly, she discarded the idea.

    However, neither was she prepared to tell the entire truth, not yet, so instead, she settled for a half-truth, beginning with a question, Do you remember when I came to see you in Ubiorum?

    Yes, he answered immediately, then frowned. But you haven’t told me why you left so sudden… He stopped then, his face transforming with the dawning realization, and he slapped his forehead, groaning, "Of course. That’s the night he suddenly got sick and turned around and went back to camp. The look Volusenus gave Giulia was one with which she was unfamiliar, as if he was seeing her in a sudden new light, his voice dropping to a near whisper. He must have seen you getting out of the carriage."

    Swallowing the lump in her throat, Giulia nodded. Yes, he did. Then it was her turn to become interested in her cup as she continued, But he came to see me later that night. And that’s when I made him promise that he wouldn’t tell you the truth. He told me that you were about to go on campaign, and I didn’t want you burdened with…this, she waved a hand in a gesture that encompassed them both, when you were about to cross the Rhenus.

    Volusenus listened without interrupting, then when she fell silent and he understood she was not inclined to say more, he demanded, Is that all that happened? He just came to see you?

    The look that his mother gave him was direct, but he also recognized the set of her jaw, and most tellingly, the slight dilation of her nostrils, so he was not altogether surprised when she replied flatly, That is all that I am going to say about this matter, Gnaeus. You can choose to accept it, or not, but I have no intention of discussing anything else. She paused a heartbeat, then said more softly, At least, for now.

    Well, Volusenus snorted derisively, that basically tells me, doesn’t it? If all that happened was conversation, then you’d say that, wouldn’t you?

    Her reply was in her silence, and for a span of long heartbeats, mother and son stared at each other, neither yielding, until, with a sudden exhalation of breath, Volusenus’ shoulders slumped and he looked away, which she knew was his sign of capitulation, but she was wise enough not to revel in this little victory.

    So, she repeated, how did you find out that Titus was your father? Now that it was the turn of Volusenus to talk, he quickly learned that he needed more fortification, but the amphora was already empty, so he waited while Giulia summoned a slave to bring another one, then he quaffed an entire cup before beginning.

    It was the night we got back to Ubiorum after we had rescued Segestes and… Volusenus stopped himself, seeing the sudden look of pain on his mother’s face, then said only, …well, you know.

    He stopped talking, suddenly seemingly more interested in what was contained in his cup than in continuing his story, and it took Giulia quite an effort to refrain from prodding him to continue, which she did by reminding herself she had not wanted Gnaeus to rush her in explaining the circumstances surrounding his birth. Consequently, she managed to stop herself from saying anything, deciding to take a sip from her own cup as she waited for him to continue, in his own time and in his own way.

    Finally, Volusenus continued, I got my answer when Alex showed up in my quarters. Giulia saw the sudden glisten of tears on her son’s face, visibly moved at the memory, and she understood why when he said sadly, Naturally, he was crying, and I could see how hard it was for him, but he carried out his duty. First, he handed me this. From inside his tunic, he produced a small scroll, which he waved in her direction, and while the anger had faded, she heard that it was still present when he continued flatly, And I’m sure you know what it says, that I am… his features twisted, and the anger was replaced by pain as he corrected himself, "…or I was his son."

    She knew that she was running a risk of enraging him, but she could not restrain herself, and she extended a hand, asking her son gently, May I read that, Gnaeus?

    For a long moment, she was sure he was going to refuse; then, with a shrug, he stood, crossed the mosaiced floor, and handed it to her. Before he returned to his spot, he stopped once more at the amphora, igniting a motherly worry in Giulia that he was drinking too much, and depending on how the rest of this night went, he might become impossible to handle. Wisely, she said nothing, if only because she was so intent on reading the scroll, which she pulled open with trembling hands. Despite trying to prepare herself, seeing her lover’s own words, written in his own hand, which she instantly recognized, made her gasp aloud, but while she sensed Gnaeus’ head come up sharply at the sound, she ignored him, reading Titus’ words with trepidation, halfway expecting to see some sort of condemnation of her contained within. She was completely unprepared for what she read, however; indeed, nearly half of the letter was a defense of her own behavior and the decision to withhold the information about her son’s birth, not just from Gnaeus, but from himself. So overwhelmed with relief was she that twice she dropped the scroll in her lap to collect herself and to wipe the tears away. It was while she was doing so the second time that, suddenly, she sensed Gnaeus’ presence in front of her. When she looked up at him, he was holding her cup, which she had set on the table next to the couch, and she saw that it was full once again, but it was the gentle smile he was wearing as he looked down at her that caused her heart to feel as if it would burst, from a combination of relief, sadness, and a sense of loss so poignant that she felt as if it would smother the breath from her.

    Here, Mama. His tone was gentle, without any ire; apparently, she deduced, watching her read this letter had served to melt away the last vestige of anger from her son at least for the time being. At the rate you’re crying, you need this more than I do, or you’ll dry up like a raisin.

    As she was certain he intended, this did cause her to laugh, softly and briefly, but it was still a laugh, and she accepted the cup, drinking from it as he returned to his spot once more.

    That, she finally managed, is quite a letter.

    Now it was Gnaeus’ turn to laugh, and he raised his cup in a salute, though whether it was to her understatement or to the man who had written it, he did not divulge, only agreeing, Yes, it’s quite a letter. But, the smile faded as he turned back to that moment, then I got another surprise. I got summoned to Secundus Pilus Prior Macer’s quarters. Remember, he was my Pilus Prior when I entered the Centurionate.

    Giulia hesitated, wondering for an instant if her son was setting a trap for her, but she saw nothing in his demeanor that would indicate this was the case, so she told what was, in essence, a small lie, answering him, Yes, I do recall that, and that Titus was promoted to command the Fourth Cohort.

    Despite her belief, she was nonetheless relieved when Volusenus only gave an absent nod at her confirmation, as he continued, I didn’t completely understand why, at least at first, but Alex explained to me that he was the holder of Pilus Prior Pullus’ will. Pausing to take a deep breath, he told her, That’s when I got my first hint that something more might be going on, because he said that he had read the will, and that, he did not do so with any thought, and Giulia had no way of knowing, since she had never spoken to Macer, but Volusenus managed a very close impression of the Pilus Prior as he mimicked, I ‘would have a decision to make.’ He chuckled and acknowledged, He was certainly right about that.

    Suddenly, before she could press him on what that meant, he seemed to realize something, which he confirmed when he stood, saying only, I left something outside the front door. I’ll be right back. Without waiting for her to reply, he left Giulia alone, for the first time since he had burst into the villa, which she occupied by trying to collect herself, marshal her thoughts, and begin to cope with this sudden, dramatic upheaval in not just her life, but most importantly, the life of her son. This was short-lived, because Gnaeus quickly returned, but this time, he was carrying a scabbarded gladius and a rather large wooden box that her son carried with an ease because of his size and strength that reminded her that Gnaeus had actually already inherited something from Titus Porcinianus Pullus that, in his profession, was more valuable than money.

    Setting the box down in front of her, he brandished the gladius first, saying, I suspect you know what this is. I mean, he managed to grin at her, aside from the obvious.

    She was strangely moved by the sight of something that she would ordinarily shy away from, since, like most mothers, even Roman, she never forgot its purpose. Actually seeing the smooth, worn, and grooved handle brought back unexpected memories of a time when she had been seventeen, in love, and had demanded that her lover allow her to hold this very same weapon. More than that, however, it was the look of what Giulia thought was an awe bordering on reverence that suffused her son’s expression as he slowly drew the blade from the scabbard, remembering that his father had worn the same expression when he had shown it to her. For a span of heartbeats, there was silence, both of them seemingly under the power of some spell as they examined the metal, which was much darker than other such implements, but with a pattern of whorls and loops that, while faint, were still clearly detectable, even in the lamplight.

    This, Gnaeus’ voice was choked with emotion, was carried by Prefect Pullus, then by…my grandfather, his words were tentative, as if he was trying them out for the first time, which Giulia understood was exactly what he was doing, …then by my…father.

    And now, she interjected quietly, reaching up to touch him lightly on the arm, it’s yours, Gnaeus. And, she added this without thinking, I know that Titus was looking forward to handing it down to his son.

    Her son’s head came up sharply, his examination of the blade forgotten, his eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion, and for a second time, she was aware that she had possibly made a crucial error.

    How do you know that? His voice was flat, which told Giulia that her son’s suspicions were fully aroused now.

    With a calm she did not actually feel, Giulia replied evenly, Because we talked about it during our time together. I, she pointed to the gladius, made him show it to me. Honestly, despite the moment, she felt a smile tugging at her lips, I was a bit jealous of that thing, because I could see how much it meant to him. But he showed me, and when he did, he told me about its history, and what it meant not just to him, but to the Pullus family.

    The relief that flooded through her when she saw Gnaeus nod thoughtfully, his attention returning back to the blade, almost caused her to betray herself, but he missed her sudden sagging back against the couch.

    Thankful that she had managed to navigate through these treacherous waters once again, she pointed to the box and asked him, What are those?

    Sliding the gladius back into its scabbard, then laying it down with something close to awe, he turned his attention to the box, answering, Honestly, I’m not sure. I mean, he amended, I took a quick look, but they’re just a bunch of scrolls. With a shrug, he said, They’re probably his personal library, but I’m not much of a reader, so I’ll probably either sell them or give them to someone who will appreciate them. There’s actually another box of them, but I only brought this one. Although, he added this carelessly, Alex insisted that they’re valuable, so I might sell them, I suppose.

    Giulia had frozen, alerted by Gnaeus’ informing her of the contents of the box, because she instantly knew what they were. More importantly, she also knew that she needed to be the one who made her son aware that, in many ways, this legacy from his natural father was a gift even more priceless than the gladius he clearly already treasured. And, she knew, in order to do that, what she had been trying to conceal from Gnaeus this night would have to be exposed. Or, she suddenly wondered, was there another way?

    Actually, Gnaeus, she began, may I see one of them? Smiling at him, she reminded her son, You know that I’m one of those decadent Roman matrons who like to do things no woman has any business of doing. I might want to read some of this.

    Whether it was pure happenstance or a final blessing of Titus Porcinianus Pullus by Fortuna; this would always be a question that, from time to time, for the rest of her life, Giulia Livinia Volusenus would wonder. Not that it truly mattered; what did was that the scroll he handed her instantly and irrevocably changed Gnaeus Volusenus’ life.

    She did not recognize the hand in which it was written, but after scanning the first couple of lines, she knew to whom it belonged, and her heart was suddenly hammering in her chest, which meant it took an effort to sound composed as she began reading, These are the words of Titus Pullus, formerly Gregarius, Optio, Pilus Prior, and Primus Pilus of the 10th Legion Equestris, now known as 10th Gemina, Primus Pilus of the 6th Ferrata, and Camp Prefect, as dictated to his faithful former slave, scribe, and friend Diocles. She looked up, and as she expected, her son’s attention was suddenly and completely focused on her, his jaw hanging open in what, to her eyes, was an equal mixture of disbelief and awe. Continuing, she read on, "This is being written in my sixty-first year, three years after my retirement as Camp Prefect, in the tenth year of the reign of Augustus, and four hundred eighty-nine years after the founding of the Roman Republic. I have more than forty military decorations, including three gold torqs, three set of phalarae, two coronae civica, three coronae murales, and a corona vallaris. I have more than twenty battle scars on my body, all of them in the front, and my back is clean, never having been flogged in my forty-two years in the Legions, nor turning my back to the enemy. Although my record is not as great as the revered Dentatus, I am well-known in the Legions, and I have given the bulk of my life and blood to Rome. My goal is straightforward; with these words, I plan on recording all of the momentous events that I participated in as a member of Rome’s Legions, during a period that changed the very foundations of Rome itself."

    Only then did she stop, the scroll dropping to her lap, while she studied Gnaeus’ face, fascinated and overjoyed to see the slow dawning of realization as he began to fathom the extraordinary nature of what, moments before, had been a box of old scrolls of negligible value.

    Finally, he spoke, his voice suddenly hoarse. I suppose I’ll keep those after all.

    As he had hoped, this made Giulia laugh; as long as he could remember, one of the small joys of Gnaeus Volusenus’ life was his ability to make his mother laugh, something that, if his comrades in the Legion knew about, they would have mocked him mercilessly. But, he thought with grim humor, only behind my back.

    That would probably be best, she agreed, smiling. Then, she looked down into the box to count the number of scrolls, but before she could, her eye spotted a small leather sack, the strings of which had been tied around the spool of one scroll. Pointing to it, she asked, Have you looked in that sack, Gnaeus?

    Following her finger, he grunted in surprise. No, Mama. I hadn’t even noticed it. He bent down, untying the string and lifting the bag, saying dismissively, "Although I can’t imagine what it would be; the sack is too small to hold more than a few sesterces. Then, he hefted it in the palm of his hand, frowning slightly, then with his free hand, he felt through the leather, telling her, If there is a coin in here, there’s only one. Although, he shook his head, it feels bigger than a coin."

    Maybe, Giulia suggested dryly, you should open it up and see.

    He gave her a sheepish grin, doing as she had directed, untying the string and opening the mouth of the bag, which he upended above the palm of his other hand. While what dropped out of the bag was round and made of metal, both of them knew that it was not a coin, if only because of the leather thong that had been threaded through the hole drilled in the disc. It was almost black with age, but Volusenus tilted his palm towards the nearest lamp, and in doing so, saw some faint etching on the face of the disk. Giulia, who had come to her feet so she could examine this find, was the first to determine not only what it was, but its meaning, causing her to let out a gasp of surprise.

    I know what that is! Her excitement was such that she reached out and grasped Gnaeus’ forearm with enough strength that it elicited a yelp of surprise and some pain from him, but she ignored him. That’s the identity disk of the first Titus Pullus! Your father wore it around his neck whenever he went on campaign. Although, she frowned, going to her tiptoes to get a better angle to see the disk, something she had been doing unconsciously whenever her son held something in his hand ever since he was ten and already was taller than her, I can’t really make out the writing, but I’m sure that’s it. She gave a laugh, saying, He clearly didn’t take care of it as well as he should have. There’s so much grime on that it’s impossible to see the name!

    After a handful of heartbeats, she became aware that her son had fallen silent, which at first she had assumed was because he was trying to read the inscription that was almost illegible. In reflex, she glanced up at his face, and the laugh died on her lips when she saw his expression, reading the anguish there.

    It’s not grime, Mama. Gnaeus’ voice was barely audible. It’s his blood. That’s why you can’t read the name.

    She never could precisely recall the next span of time, as she and her son collapsed into each other’s arms, both of them weeping uncontrollably, overcome with this tangible, brutal, and final sign that Titus Pullus was truly dead. It was several moments later, and they had both regained a semblance of control over their emotions, that it was now Volusenus’ turn to glance at his mother with trepidation, and a fair amount of fear that what he was about to tell her might be too much for her to bear. But, much as Giulia had earlier, he understood that this was the night for all of it to

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