“Just because a man is high born doesn't mean he has money,” Scribonius explained. “In fact, until Caesar came along, the Julii had been poor for more years than anyone could remember.”
I mused on this; perhaps this was why Caesar seemed to relate so well to people of my class. He had grown up with us, knew how we thought and lived. I mentioned this to Scribonius, and he immediately agreed that this was probably the case. Yet even knowing that Caesar had walked these same streets, I was anxious to leave. The buildings, if they can be called such, are built so haphazardly that most of them look in danger of falling over. Indeed, the taller ones leaned so precipitously at the top that they almost touched the building on the opposite side of the street, which would be leaning just as much. It gave the impression of being in a dark canyon, and I despised the feeling that I was going to be buried alive so much that I practically dragged Scribonius along until we left the Subura behind. Still, despite my happiness at returning to camp, I was glad that Scribonius had taken me on a tour, and I thanked him for showing me the sights.
“I'm happy to, Primus Pilus,” he told me, always sure to address me in the proper manner when we were back in front of the men.
I was about to turn to enter my tent, but I could see him hesitate, plainly wanting to say something more. Feeling my stomach tighten, I was sure that I knew what he wanted to say, yet I also knew that it meant more to Scribonius to say what he needed to say than it meant for me not to want to hear it.
“Yes?” I asked in what I hoped was a pleasant tone.
Scribonius, who always seemed to know the exact right words for any occasion, was now fumbling about.
Finally, he said, “Primus Pilus, I just wanted you to know how sorry we are, and I mean the men and the officers, about Gisela and your family. We've made several offerings for their safe journey.”
I looked at my friend, then for the second time that day, I felt the hot rush of tears threaten to unman me, but I managed to hold them back. “Thank you, Scribonius. That means a great deal to me.” I turned to enter the tent, then turned back. “And thank the men for me as well.”
With that, I walked into my private quarters, telling Diocles to bring me wine, and plenty of it. I sat alone with my thoughts for some time, ignoring Diocles as he came to light the extra lamps when it became dark, steadily draining the amphora of wine that Diocles had set on the table. Drinking it unwatered, it still did not seem to have any effect on me as it normally did and finally I gave up. Just as I was about to lie on my cot for the night, I realized I needed to answer the call of nature. Deciding that the fresh air from a trip to the latrine would do me good, I got up and left the tent. I had only gone a few steps when I heard a familiar voice.
“Titus?”
Whirling about, my hand clutched at my dagger, peering into the darkness towards where the sound came from, waiting for whatever happened next. A dark shadow detached itself from the backdrop of the edge of my tent then stepped into where the pool of light from the torch placed at the corner of the street pushed back the gloom. It was Vibius.
For several moments, we just stood there, staring at each other, before Vibius cleared his throat. “I just. . I just wanted to tell you that I was very sorry to hear about Gisela and Vibi. I know how much you loved them both, and I grieve for you.”
I did not say anything, just staring at him as my mind fumbled for the right words to say. So much had passed between us, and there was so much I wanted to say, but nothing came. Finally, seeing that I was not going to answer, he abruptly turned and began to walk away, stumbling a little in the darkness.
I was jerked out of my state of silence, and I called out to him. “Vibius, wait.”
He immediately stopped, turning back slowly. As he approached, I realized that I did not know what exactly it was that I wanted to say.
At the last moment, I only managed a weak, “Thank you for your. . just, thank you. That means a lot. Gisela always liked you.”
“No she didn’t,” he replied immediately, but it was not meant in a mean-spirited way at all and we both burst out laughing.
“No, you’re right. She didn’t care for you that much,” I admitted. “But it had nothing to do with you and everything to do with her.”
“I know. She just didn’t like sharing you. I understood.”
“But, Vibi,” I said, and immediately regretted it, as I felt my throat tighten up at the thought of my son, the namesake of my best friend, “he loved you. The last time I saw him one of his first questions was about when you were going to come visit.”
And with that, I could not hold it back anymore, and I began to weep. Yet for some reason, I did not care about doing so in front of Vibius, even after all that had transpired between us. I think it had to do with the fact that I had seen him in a similar state after Juno betrayed him and married another man. Whatever the case, I was not ashamed. I had covered my face with my hands, so I did not see him step closer, and was surprised when I felt his hand on my shoulder, awkwardly patting it. I do not know how long we stood there, but it had to have been several moments before I was able to regain my composure. We stood there, looking at each other. I did not know what to say next, and obviously neither did he.
“Well,” he broke the silence, “I just wanted you to know, that’s all.”
“Thank you,” I said again, and there was really nothing more left to say, so we both turned away and walked away from each other into the night.
~ ~ ~ ~
The day of the first triumph dawned clear and bright, the men in a state of high excitement and spirits as they did their last minute scrubbing and polishing. I walked up and down the Legion streets, checking that everything was in order, listening to the men talk animatedly about what was to come.
“I tell you boys,” Didius proclaimed, smacking his lips at the thought, “when we go marching by, the women will be wet as a September rain just at the sight of us. They’ll be ours for the taking.”
“Since when have you ever been interested in a woman that you didn’t have to hold a knife to her throat or pay?” Vellusius shot back. Didius took this with his usual bluster of threats, which in itself had become so much of a joke that even Didius could not make them without laughing about it.
This was the tone of most of the conversations taking place throughout the camp as the men, most of them never having marched in a triumph, tried to guess what was awaiting them. Some of Pompey’s veterans had marched in his last triumph, but there were very few of these men left, so we all were relying on tales of past triumphs told to us by any number of sources. All we knew for sure was our role; we would be marching behind the last of the wagons pulling the reproductions of the notable moments of the Gallic campaign, as the 10th, despite the difficulties between the men and Caesar, was given the place of honor at the head of the procession of troops. Just three days before the triumph, we were informed that the 6th, or the two Cohorts that had fought for Caesar, would be marching in the Gallic triumph by virtue of the two years they were on loan from Pompey. Their service had come towards the end of our time in Gaul, and they had been consigned to garrison duty, though they had seen some action quelling the rebellions that had punctuated our last years there. Still, it did not sit well with some of the men, as I heard them mumbling around the fires after the news about the injustice of it all. Fortunately, they were going to be at the end of the procession, since it would have caused a huge uproar with the other Spanish Legions if they had been forced to march behind men they considered latecomers.