Slowly but surely-as slowly and surely as these images manifested out of darkness-I came to a decision.
It seemed to me that in my younger days I had always been methodical and cautious, slow to take any step that might be irrevocable, fearful of making a mistake that might lead to the worst possible outcome. How ironic that in my years of hard-earned wisdom I should become a creature of impulse, a taker of wild risks. Perhaps it was wisdom after all for a man to turn his back on fear and doubt and trust to the gods to keep him alive.
"Vitruvius?" I said.
He stirred in his chair, blinked, and cleared his throat. "Yes, Gordianus?"
"Where does the tunnel begin-the one that's to break through inside the city today?"
He cleared his throat again. He yawned. "Over to the left. Do you see that stand of oak trees down there, tucked in a hollow that curves into the hillside? Actually, you can just barely see the treetops. That's where the entrance of the tunnel is, almost directly across from the main gate but still hidden from the city walls. The sappers are probably down there already, relaying digging equipment, rechecking measurements. The soldiers who'll take part in the attack will start gathering in about an hour."
I nodded. "How will they be equipped?"
"Short swords, helmets, light armor. Nothing too heavy. They've got to stay light on their feet, as unencumbered as possible. We don't want them tripping or stabbing each other as they scramble through the tunnel, or weighed down with too much equipment when they need to climb out."
"Are they all from a particular cohort?"
"No. They're special duty volunteers culled from several cohorts. Not every man's fit for such a mission. You can't effectively train a man not to be afraid of the dark or not to panic in a tight, enclosed space. Put some men in a tunnel and it doesn't matter how brave they are, they wet themselves the instant they lose sight of daylight around the first bend. You don't want to be standing next to such a fellow in a crisis. Sappers thrive in tunnels, of course, but sappers are diggers, not fighters. So you've got to have fighting men who aren't afraid to step on a few earthworms. The volunteers who'll make the attack have been doing tunnel drills over the last few days. How to carry a lighted taper so it doesn't go out, how not to stampede your comrades if the tunnel goes black, memorizing signals to advance and retreat, and so on."
"Sounds complicated."
Vitruvius snorted. "Hardly. These fellows aren't engineers. They're simple men. They just needed a bit of drilling so they won't trip over their own feet in a tight spot."
I nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose any reasonably bright fellow could pick up what to do on the spot."
"Certainly. Any fool could. And if something did go horribly wrong, he'd die just as quickly as the ones who've been specially trained for the mission." He snuggled under his blanket, closed his eyes, and sighed.
A red glimmer appeared along the jagged horizon to the east. I shrugged off my blanket and told Vitruvius he would have to watch the sunrise alone. He didn't answer. I retreated to the sound of gentle snoring.
In the officers' tent I managed to wake Davus and pull him from his bed without rousing the others. Half-asleep and confused, he nodded as I explained to him my intention.
From Meto I knew how Caesar arranged his camps and where stores of surplus equipment might be found. The tent I was looking for was just behind that of Trebonius, and unguarded. What penalty would the commander deem appropriate for two outsiders caught stealing weapons during a siege? I tried not to think about that as we searched in the dim light among dented helmets, nicked swords, and mismatched greaves.
"This one fits perfectly, father-in-law. And I can't find any damage at all."
I looked up to see Davus trying on a helmet. I shook my head. "No, Davus, you misunderstood. My fault for explaining while you were still half-asleep. I will be going through the tunnel, not you."
"But I'm coming with you, of course."
"There's no need. If Vitruvius is correct, the city will be open in a matter of hours. We can meet up again tomorrow, perhaps even tonight."
"And if the engineer is wrong? You know what Meto says: Things never go exactly the way they expect in a battle."
I ran my fingertip along a dull, rusty sword blade. "Davus, do you remember the scene the day before we left Rome? Your wife-my daughter-was very, very upset."
"No more than your wife! Bethesda was frantic. Those curses she uttered made my hair stand on end, and I don't even know Egyptian."
"Yes, Diana and Bethesda were both distraught. But the night before we left, I made my peace with Bethesda. She understood why I had to come here, why I couldn't sit idly in Rome wondering about Meto, not knowing for certain if he was alive or dead. Diana was another matter."
"She understood too, in the end."
"Did she? I can hear her now: `Papa, what can you be thinking, taking Davus with you? Didn't you just trek all the way to Brundisium and back to fetch him from Pompey's clutches? Now you want to go off to yet another battlefield and put him back in harm's way.' She had a point."
"Father-in-law, you couldn't possibly have traveled here alone. A man your age-"
"And you made Diana see that. Congratulations, Davus-you wield more influence over my daughter than I ever did! But before we left, she made me promise that I wouldn't put you in danger if I could possibly avoid it."
"So… you're saying that this tunnel business is dangerous."
"Of course it is! Men were never meant to burrow through the ground like rabbits, any more than they were meant to fly, or breathe underwater. And people tend not to like it when an army appears out of a hole in the ground."
"You could be killed, father-in-law."
I ran my fingertip over another blade and gasped when it cut me. I sucked at the thin trickle of bright red blood. "It's possible."
"Then I'm coming with you."
I shook my head. "No, Davus-"
"It was agreed that I would come along to protect you. You haven't had much need for protection until now."
"No, Davus. I promised your wife that I'd bring you home alive."
"And I promised your wife the same thing!"
We stared at each other blankly, then both laughed. "Then I 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 grub master, 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 graybeards 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.