It seemed only fitting. After all, Marcus had once kept a death watch for him.
It had been years ago. Six years? Seven? And it had not been that far from this dusty, evil city. They had been trying to cross the Bagradas River at a place where it ran through thick brush and verdant reeds that grew higher than a man’s head. The Bagradas Valley was a rich and fertile swath of ground that received the waters from the Tells on either side of it. On the flanks of the Tells, cork and oak and pine forests grew. The banks of the wide river were thick with both vegetation and stinging insects. Marcus had been a general then, but not yet risen to the rank of consul. That title he would earn by cutting a swath of destruction across Carthage. It had been a summer of conquest for him. That day, Marcus pushed infantry, horse, and archers to move swiftly as he sought for the best place to ford the Bagradas. He had chosen a prime spot for his evening camp, on a rise that overlooked a river. The troops settled in to create the standard fortification, a ditch and a wall made from the upflung dirt. Marcus had sent his scouts ahead to survey the fording place. They had returned too soon, to report unusual activity by the water’s edge.
“We saw a snake, sir. A huge snake. By the river.”
Flavius had been in earshot of that first report. Sometimes of an evening, after the boundaries were set for the night, he’d go by Marcus’ tent. If the general was not too busy, he’d find time for some talk with his old friend. But that evening, as he approached, he was blocked by a huddle of men clustered around the tent. Marcus stood scowling, while the two velites reporting to him looked at the ground and shifted sheepishly. Flavius had seen Marcus’ consternation that they had even dared to return to report such a thing. “Amazing,” he had responded, his voice dripping sarcasm. “That we should encounter a snake on an African riverbank. Is that why you fled back here before determining if we can ford there tomorrow?”
The velites had exchanged glances. They were among the poorest of the soldiers that were recruited, often without enough money to equip themselves well and accorded little status by their fellows. In battle, they were skirmishers and javelin throwers, not recognized as formally belonging to any group. They had been sent to scout precisely because they were expendable. They knew it and did not like it. Flavius could scarcely blame them for retreating from whatever they had seen. They had to watch out for their own backs. One of the men was wet to the waist. The other man spoke. “We couldn’t see all of it, sir. But what we saw was, well, immense. We saw a piece of its side moving past us through the tall river grass. It was the diameter of a hogshead, sir, and that was close to the end of it. We aren’t cowards. We went toward it, for a better look. And then, close to a hundred feet away, this head reared up from the reeds.”
“Glowing eyes!” broke in the other scout. “On my word, sir, big glowing eyes. And it hissed at us, but the hiss was more like whistling. I had to cover my ears. It kept to the water, and the reeds hid most of it from us, but what we could see was immense. From the size of its eyes and head, it had to be—”
“That’s twice now that you’ve admitted coming back to report to me on something that you haven’t completely seen,” Marcus had observed coldly. “It is the function of a scout, is it not, to see things and then come back to report? Rather than to come back to report what he has not seen?”
The first man scowled and looked at his feet. The second scout flushed a deep red. He didn’t meet Marcus’s gaze, but there was no shame in his voice as he said, “Some things are so strange that even a glimpse of one should be reported. That is no ordinary snake, sir. And I’m not just speaking of its size, though it dwarfs any other snake I’ve ever seen. Its eyes glowed when it looked at us. And it more whistled than hissed. It didn’t flee at the sight of us, as most snakes would. No. It challenged us. And so we came back to report it to you.”
“River dragon,” someone said into the silence that followed the scout’s words.
Marcus’ eyes snapped to the men clustered at the edge of the firelight’s reach. Perhaps he knew who had spoken, but Flavius didn’t. In any event, he didn’t single out anyone. “Ridiculous,” he said scathingly.
“You didn’t see it,” the first scout said abruptly, but before he could continue, Marcus cut in with, “And neither did you! You saw something. Probably a glimpse of a hippo, and then a glimpse of a snake, and in the reeds and the evening light, you thought they were one and the same.” He pointed a finger at the one scout and demanded, “How did you get wet?”
The man drew himself up. “If I could finish my report, sir. That head came up out of the reeds. It lifted its head higher than I’m tall, and it looked down on us. Then it whistled. Startled us both, and I shouted back at it. Big as it was, I still thought it would turn aside and go its way. Instead, it came at us. It darted its head at me, mouth open, and all I could see was row after row of teeth, in a maw the size of a cart. Carus shouted at him and threw his javelin. It stuck in him, made him angry. He roared again and went for me. I jumped to one side and ran. I thought it was solid riverbank, but it wasn’t and I went right over the edge and into the water. Lucky for me, because it lost sight of me.”
The other man took up the tale. “That’s when it turned on me and came after me, but I was already moving by then. It stopped to rub my javelin off. I heard the shaft snap, like it was nothing. I’d run up the bank and I think it was reluctant to come out of the reeds and cattails. I thought Tullus was dead. When he came out of the reeds and joined me, we decided we’d best come back to report this.”
Marcus had crossed his arms on his chest. “And the light is almost gone. And no doubt by the time we reach the river tomorrow, your giant snake will be gone as well. Go about your duties, both of you. Glowing eyes!”
And with that sharp remark, he dismissed not only the two scouts but all of the men as well. Just before he turned away, his eyes met Flavius’ and he gave a small toss of his head. He knew that he was summoned, but privately. In the dark and almost quiet hours of the restive camp, he went to Marcus’ tent.
“I need to know what they saw. Can you go out, before dawn, and then come back to me? If anyone can read the ground and let me know what is out there, you can. I need to get our troops across the river, Flavius. I’d like to cross here, at first light. But if there are hippos and crocodiles, then I need to know before we enter the water, not when we’re halfway across.”
“Or giant snakes?” Flavius asked him.
Marcus gave a dismissive laugh. “They’re young and poorly armed. I don’t blame them for running back here, but they have to learn that what I need is information, not rumors. I’ll have them here to hear your report in the morning. And that’s when they’ll face their discipline as well.”
Flavius had nodded, and gone off to take what sleep he could.
A Roman camp stirs early, but he was the first to arise that morning. He took with him not the arms of a warrior but the tools of a hunter. It did not take a lot of modification to turn a pike into a pole sling. It had greater range and could launch a heavier weapon than his small sling. If there were an irritable hippo or basking crocodiles, he wished to turn them away before they got too close to him. The gladius at his side was for closer occasions. The short blade was good for both stabbing and slashing. Flavius hoped it came to neither.