Last Seen in Massilia by Steven Saylor Read Free Book Online Page A

suppose it’s a question of which of them we’re more afraid of,” I said. After a heartbeat, we spoke in unison: “Bethesda!”
    I sighed. “Very well, Davus. I think I saw a mail shirt over there that might be big enough to fit you.”
     
    Our outfits were convincing enough to fool the grubmaster, at least. Granted, the man hardly looked at us as we passed by, bowls extended for a helping of millet porridge. He did notice our relative sizes; Davus received a portion twice the size of mine.
    We ate hastily, then set out. The camp, so quiet and still in the hour before dawn, was now bustling with excitement. Messengers ran to and fro, officers shouted, bright-eyed soldiers whispered to each other as they formed ranks. Everyone seemed to sense that this was a special day.
    We descended the hill, keeping the city wall and the contravallation to our right. Ahead and below, hidden from the watchers on the city walls, I spotted a curving fold in the hillside shaded by oak trees, just as Vitruvius had described it. The little hollow was already densely packed with men, their helmets visible through the leaves as we descended.
    A well-worn path led down into the hollow. Men stepped aside, jostling each other to make room for us. A glance at their equipment showed that I had not been far off the mark in choosing our own gear. We were inconspicuous, in that regard at least.
    The men talked in low voices. Behind me I heard someone say, “How old is that one? You don’t see many gray-beards on special missions.”
    Another soldier shushed him. “What are you thinking, courting hubris on this of all days? Or don’t you care to live long enough to have your own gray beard?”
    “I didn’t mean it as an insult,” said the first soldier.
    “Then keep your mouth shut. If a fellow can live that long fighting in Caesar’s army, he must have the gods on his side.”
    The first soldier grunted. “What about the big one with him? I don’t remember ever seeing him at training drills. I thought the call for this mission was strictly for short fellows like us. That big ox is liable to stop up the tunnel like a cork in a bottle!”
    “Shut up! Here comes the man himself. This is it!”
    Flanked by officers, Trebonius appeared on the hillside above us. He was dressed in full regalia, wearing a crested helmet and a sculpted chest plate that caught flashes of morning sunlight through the shimmering oak canopy. I tugged at Davus’s elbow. “Lower your face. And hunker down, as best you can.”
    Trebonius pitched his orator’s voice just loud enough to fill the hollow. “Soldiers! The auspices are favorable. The augurs have declared this a good day for battle—more than good, a propitious day for Caesar and Caesar’s men. Today, if the gods see fit, the gates of Massilia will be opened, thanks to your efforts. You will greatly please Caesar, and Caesar will duly reward you. But let me repeat what I have said from the beginning of this siege: When Massilia falls, Caesar, and Caesar only, shall decide her fate. There will be no looting, no rape, no arson. You all understand this, I know. Remember your training. Follow the orders of your mission commander. Now the operation begins. No cheering! Silence! Save your voices for later, when you can let out a victory cry from the walls of Massilia.”
    Trebonius saluted us. As a body, we saluted back.
    “Fall in!” an officer shouted. Around us, everyone began to move, but toward what I couldn’t tell. Davus stayed close beside me, hunkering down. We followed the flow like grains of sand in an hourglass. The hollow became noticeably less crowded. Men were disappearing as if the earth itself had swallowed them. There seemed to be no precise order; each man simply moved into the queue as quickly and efficiently as he could. I shuffled forward.
    Suddenly, the mouth of the tunnel was before me. Stout timbers outlined a black hole in the hillside. For an instant I froze. What sortof madness