I swallowed my irritation, forcing to keep my tone light. “So, Balbus, how have things been?”
The instant I spoke the words I almost openly winced, knowing how transparent they sounded.
Balbus’ mouth quirked, while he replied, “Things have been eventful, Primus Pilus, but I don’t believe that's why you asked me to stay behind.”
“No, you're right, Balbus. That is indeed not why I asked you to stay behind. I apologize for phrasing things so awkwardly.” I sighed, realizing then I was not really sure why I had asked him to stay behind. Finally, I leaned forward, struck by a sudden urge to be as candid as possible. “The reason I want to talk to you is because I want to tell you that if I were to listen to Torquatus, your time in the Legion would be coming to an end. I’m sure you know that one of the things that Caesar demands is utmost loyalty of his Centurions and after what happened on the Campus Martius, he doesn't know who to trust. All it would take is a word from me that you're one who can't be trusted, and if I were to go by what Torquatus had told me about you, I'd be sending word to Caesar now. But the thing is, I don’t really believe Torquatus, though I don’t know why. That’s why I wanted to talk to you I suppose, to hear what you have to say.”
He regarded me levelly, his face still composed and unreadable. “About what, exactly?”
I threw my hands up in exasperation. “About what? About what I've just said.”
“I see. So you want to know if I can be trusted?”
When put that way, I realized how ludicrous what I said sounded. If he were involved in the mutiny on the Campus, he was unlikely to tell me, instead telling me what he thought I wanted to hear. I realized that I was dealing with a man of exceptional qualities, with none of the shiftiness of Cornuficius.
Deciding to start over, I began again. “When you put it that way, I can see how ridiculous a question it is, I suppose. No, I don’t want to know if you can be trusted, I'm going to decide that for myself. But it’s just that I think there's more behind what Torquatus has told me and I want to hear your side of it, that’s all. Before I make any judgments, I need to hear as much of the story as I can.”
Now for the first time, Balbus looked decidedly less composed, almost uncomfortable, shifting in his chair, then looking down at the ground, the first time he had broken his gaze on me, and I could see that he was struggling with something. I had long since learned that as hard as it may be, the best thing to do in these circumstances is to wait for the other to speak, so I sat fiddling with my stylus.
Finally, he took a deep breath, looked at me, then said, “Very well. I'll tell you why Torquatus hates me so.”
~ ~ ~ ~
The affairs of men are such a mess sometimes. I remember Caesar saying that great events result from trivial causes, and that was certainly the case with what had taken place between Torquatus and Balbus. As Balbus told his story, I was also struck by an uncomfortable feeling of my own, like I was hearing a tale that I had heard before. In fact, it was a story that I had lived and after hearing it, it left me sitting up that night, thinking. Torquatus and Balbus were lifelong friends, cousins in fact, their mothers being sisters, and had joined the Legions together. They had been inseparable companions, marching first in Pompey’s Legions before volunteering to come over to the 10th in exchange for both being promoted to Sergeants. Of course this meant that they could not be in the same tent like they had been, yet they remained close. They ascended the ranks at roughly the same time, and it was at the end of the campaign in Gaul, when the 10th spent time in garrison and Caesar used the other Legions quelling the various rebellions that the trouble began. Freed of the constant worry of marching, fighting, and all that goes with it, both men decided that it was time to turn to matters of the heart, seeing that it looked very much like we were going to be staying in place for a while, which was true. As nearly as I could figure out, about the same time I took up with Gisela, Balbus and Torquatus fell in love, which is a wonderful thing, except when it is with the same woman. Nonetheless, in all forms of combat, there can only be one victor and in this case, it was Torquatus, or so Torquatus thought. The maid in question became Torquatus’ woman, and for several months, things seemed to be all right. Balbus had smarted from the defeat but said that he had gotten over it. Then, Torquatus’ father had died, so he had taken leave to go home, whereupon he asked Balbus to watch over his woman, something that Balbus did to such a degree that you can imagine what happened.
As Balbus talked of this, he had the grace to look somewhat guilty, giving a rueful grin. “In all honesty, I had gotten over her at that point, but when she offered herself, what was I supposed to do?” he said.
When put that way, it was a hard point to argue. If it had been just a short-term affair, while Torquatus was gone, that would have been one thing, and it would have been one of those secrets between men and women that many take to the grave with them. However, if there is anything as mysterious and complicated as a woman’s heart, I hope never to run into it. According to Balbus, the result of the affair was twofold; the woman decided she had made a mistake in choosing Torquatus, then had gotten herself pregnant. Now, she could not live without Balbus, yet the fact that Balbus no longer had those kinds of feelings for her and told her as much did not seem to deter her from declaring to Torquatus her undying love for Balbus. In this, I had to sympathize with Torquatus, imagining what it would have been like to come back to the Legion, expecting your best friend and woman to be waiting for you, never suspecting either of them of treachery. Perhaps from the woman, for they are fickle creatures, but never that kind of betrayal from a man as close to you as your brother. There I go being naïve again, I suppose. As one can imagine, her revelation put an unbearable strain on the friendship between the two men, a rift that was still unrepaired to that day in my tent as Balbus told me about it.
“I tried everything I could to make amends to Torquatus, but he's never forgiven me,” Balbus said morosely.
“What happened to the woman?”
“She died trying to bear my child.” Balbus took a deep drink from his wine cup.
Setting it down, he looked at me, and I could see the sadness and pain in his eyes, making me wonder what the main cause of it was, the betrayal of his friend, or the death of a woman who was bearing his child. Both, I suppose.
“So, Primus Pilus, that's the cause of the rift between Torquatus and me, and why he hates me so much. I really can’t blame him. I have hopes that being sent to another Legion may make things easier for both of us.”