Scipio's letter ended

A great sorrow welled up from inside me as I strapped
the body of my general to the back of my horse. Even
as I struggled to comprehend the events that had
unfolded over the course of the previous day, I could
not, try as I might, ignore the enormous grief which
gripped my heart.

Trivarius had often been harsh with his men, but we
loved him. He was our general and like a father to us
all. At that moment I imagined I would ride into camp
with the consul’s body, expose the fraud for what he
was and with V Macedonica at my back, tear the secrets
of this conspiracy from that creature—whatever it was
that had murdered the consul and taken his place.

The legionary and I began to make our way back to
camp, this time on foot, since the consul’s body was
strapped to my horse. My escort led the way, his
horse trailing behind him by the reins. I walked a few
paces behind, so the man would not see the tears
welling in my eyes. I fear I was lost deep in my own
thoughts, for I paid scant attention to our
surroundings.

As a result of this it was the legionary who spotted
the Quaestor’s Nubian, watching us from a ridgeline
not more than a half-mile away.

Seeing the murderer perched so casually on his horse,
so close, drove me into an unthinking rage, and I
nearly mounted the legionary’s horse to charge the
man. But I did not, because a moment later another
man joined the Nubian on the ridge, and then another,
and then another, until there were a full dozen
mounted men on the ridgeline, beside the Nubian.

Even from a distance I could see that these were men
from the Quaestor’s cohort, and I realized that we
must have been tracked when we left the camp. The
legionary and I looked at each other, but said
nothing. There was nothing to say. On foot we could
not hope to break through the line of men, who even as
we watched, were already taking position athwart the
trail, to block our path back to the camp. But if we
abandoned the general’s body and ran from our
pursuers, then we would lose the only proof we had
that the duplicate in camp was not in fact the
general.

We knew what had to be done. One of us would have to
run on foot while the other would have to flee on horseback,
leading the horse with the body. It was the only hope of getting
back to the legion with Trivarius' corpse.

I did not need to ask my man for his mount. He
surrendered the reins to me and said, “Good luck sir.
I will try to delay them as long as I can.”

“Flee, do not fight. There is no sense in throwing your life
away.” I said. “You will not be able to delay so many men
in any case. Try to head towards that rough ground there,”
I said pointing towards a small thicket that was not far from
us. “They will have trouble following you through it, and
they may abandon the chase in order to catch me. You
are no threat to them and they will know that. Our
claims will be untenable without the consul’s body, so
their priority will be to destroy it.”

I looked back up the trail and saw that the Nubian and
his men were now making their way towards us at a
casual trot. “If you can stay alive until it is dark,
you may be able to make it back to camp,” I said. “If
I have returned before you, and it is safe to enter, I
will tie a pennant to the south gate. If you do not
see this sign, hide yourself and wait as long as you
can. I will signal you so long as I am alive and it
is safe to return. If I am taken, then make your way
back to Rome as best you can. Find my sister,
Portensia of house Scipio. Report all that you have
seen here.”

“I will do as you ask, tribune!” said the soldier. He
then saluted and headed towards the thicket at a
steady jog.

I looked then at the Quaestor’s men again. They had
spread out in a loose line and had picked up their
pace, but were obviously still waiting to see what I
would do.

Though I was mounted I knew I could not hope to outrun
the Nubian and his men, while still keeping possession
of the consul’s body. A corpse cannot ride nearly as
well as a man, so the horse with the body would slow
me down if I tried to flee.

I knew the camp was only a couple miles away, and at a
hard gallop I could reach it in a few minutes. I made
the decision to charge directly at the line of men,
hoping to break through and reach the camp before they
could kill or dismount me. I knew my chances of
getting through were slim, as I would be fighting a
running battle the entire way, until I was close
enough to the camp to summon assistance. But I had no
other choice, since in my anger I had decided that
abandoning the consul’s body was not an option.

I mounted then, holding the other horse’s reins in my
left hand, unwilling to test my courage further with
needless delay.

The moment I was in my saddle, the Nubian and his band
broke into a gallop. It was clear that they thought I
would be fleeing in the opposite direction, not
heading towards them. Three of them broke off and
rode towards the rough ground where my legionary had
gone to ground moments before.

This gave me a moment of opportunity. If I could pass
through their line and stay on my horse, then they
would be hard pressed to turn and catch up with me,
even though I was slowed by the horse carrying the
body.

I dug my heels into my mount and with a shout “For the
Fifth!” I charged my pursuers, with my gladius drawn.

The Nubian and his men were caught by surprise. They
immediately began to rein in their mounts, trying to
slow their forward momentum in order not to let me
whip through their line.

As the distance between us closed I saw that the men
were all armed with cavalry spears. This did not bode
well for me, as they could easily kill or dismount me
if they got close enough.

I looked for the biggest gap in the cordon, and
spurred my mount towards it, heedless of the doubts
that were beginning to cloud my resolve.

The Nubian must have seen what I was doing, for I saw
him shouting at his men, urging them to close the gap.

The men directly opposite to me had already brought
their mounts to a halt and were raising their
spear-points to force me to stop or turn.

I knew that to slow down or stop would be my death.
But since riding towards them would have meant
impaling myself on their ready weapons, I instead
turned at an angle and rode parallel to their line.

The men were still closing on my, but at a slower
pace, cautiously making sure that they left no gaps
for me to flee through. Even the three men that had
earlier split off to chase the legionary into the
thicket, were summoned back by the Nubian, and were
circling behind me to cut off my escape.

My options began to dwindle. Calming myself I examined
my position with dispassionate eyes. I realized that
despite my anger and sorrow I could not keep the
consul’s body and still save myself. If I did not
abandon the body, I would die, and the Nubian would
get the body in any case.

At that moment I released the reins of the consul’s
horse while simultaneously turning my own mount. The
horse, with no hand to guide its reins, took off
towards the camp, while I continued to ride a
different trajectory towards the Nubian’s line.

My tactic worked. The Nubian seeing the horse with
his prize headed off towards the camp, panicked and
shouted at his men to intercept it. But to do this
they broke the cordon that had kept me hemmed in.

Seeing the men turning to follow the consul’s body, I
turned once again into their line, and this time the
men were not prepared to meet me with spear-points
raised. In a moment I was amongst them, passing close
enough to one of the Nubian’s men to slash at his left
arm.

I felt my blade biting into flesh, but a gladius makes
a poor cavalry sword, and it was not a fatal wound.
The men stayed on his mount, although he dropped his
spear.

In that instant I was past him, and my path to the
camp was clear. But there were still many horsemen
riding parallel to me, chasing the horse carrying the
consul’s body.

The men closest to me lowered their spears and turned
in pursuit, but I gradually pulled ahead of them now
that I was not slowed by the task of leading another
horse. It was clear they would not catch me before I
reached the camp.

The ride back to the camp could not have been longer
than a few minutes, but the race was exhausting.
Several times one of my pursuers came close enough to
thrust a spear at me, but in the end I was able to
outpace them all.

I galloped into the camp at full speed, violating all
protocols, and did not dismount until I was well
within the walls. I was immediately surrounded by
curious legionaries who helped me off my horse.

“Summon the camp tribunes, now!” I yelled swaying on
my feet from the effects of my exertions.

I turned to look for my pursuers but they had stopped
outside the camp’s palisade. There was no sign of the
horse carrying the consul’s body. I could only assume
that my pursuers had intercepted it.

I saw then at the gate’s entrance the Nubian,
surrounded by his men. The Nubian was whirling
something above his head. For a moment I did not
recognize what he was doing, and then I saw something
blurry speeding towards me at a terrifying speed. I had
just enough time to shout, "Sling!"

Then everything went black.

The last thing I remember was someone shouting, “What
are you mongrels waiting for? Get that fucking
bastard. He tried to kill the tribune!”

* * *

When I awoke my head was in agony and I could not
remember the events of the previous day. I looked
around myself and saw that I was not in my own tent.
I was in one of the wagon cages we used for prisoners.
Around me, the legion was on the move.

I shouted out, “By Pluto’s cold cunt what am I doing
in here! Let me out of this fucking cage.”

The legionaries around me looked at me, but only shook
their heads sadly.

“Let me out of here you whoresons or I will have you
on latrine duty for the rest of your careers!” I shouted.

But no one would answer me, and in any case, I was
getting a splitting headache so I just lay there on
the floor of the wagon for a few hours. The details
of the previous day then came back to me slowly.

I demanded then to see a tribune, but this request was
refused, and in fact not even acknowledged. No matter
how much I shouted, the men around me ignored me.

Finally one of the legionaries, while bringing me some
food and water, whispered to me through the bars,
“You’ve been accused of killing the Quaestor, tribune.
We are forbidden to speak to you, on pain of death.”

“What!” I said, astonished at this. “Why would I kill
the Quaestor?”

But the legionary walked away, looking about himself
nervously, to make sure that no one had seen him
violate the consul’s commandment.

“Where are we marching?” I asked. But I was ignored.

By the third day of my imprisonment in the wagon cage
I had come to terms with my plight. I realized that I
was good as dead. I was in a cage, and guarded. And
my opponent, in the guise of the consul, had had ample
time to spin whatever lies were necessary to condemn
me in the eyes of the legion.

I realized I was alive only because killing me would
raise awkward questions for the duplicate consul and
his henchman. But they would kill me as soon as a
convenient opportunity presented itself.

That evening the man who brought my meal was not the
usual guard, but the legionary who had discovered the
consul’s body.

“How is it you…” I whispered.

But the soldier merely placed his finger on his lips
to signal silence. When he handed me my pot of water
for the night, I felt it was lighter than usual. He
then left.

Later that night, when it was dark, I put my hand into
the pot and discovered, in place of water, that there were
several sheets of parchment there, as well as quills and ink.

I realized then what the man intended for me to do. I
had to write to you, sister, to let you know what has
become of me. I do not know what he plans, or even
how he managed to enter the camp. I can only imagine
he was able to do this because the Nubian did not know
who accompanied me at Trivarius’ grave.

I have slim hope that this letter will reach you, but
if you are reading this, then the man has succeeded
against all the odds. I trust you will reward him
adequately for this service to our family and the
empire.

Do not trust the Senate; in fact do not trust anyone
outside your immediate circle with what I have told
you. I know not what you can do with this
information, but perhaps, in consultation with
Seleucus, you can find some way to put it to use. As
for me, I have made peace with the gods. When the
executioners come I will greet them steadfastly—tell
father that I died with clear eyes, as a Scipio.