Chapter Eleven: Noble Men
Part 9 Within the Gates of Tenochtitlan
Nearly two years of hard fighting later, the Roman army stood before the high walls of Tenochtitlan, the Aztec capital. The Roman forces were undaunted by its imposing fortifications; many of the legions had extensive expertise in city raiding now, including the Fourteenth. Theyd gained additional experience fighting various battles in the open field against a variety of Aztec forcesspears, pikes, maces, horse archersall of which had fallen to Roman steel. The Fourteenth may have begun the war as fresh-faced rookies, but the Legion now standing before the citadel of Tenochtitlan were battle-hardened veterans. And theyd never lost a fight.
This is it, Caesar said to his assembled army as they stood before the city gates. The Aztec capital. Not the last city well take, but after this, its mop-up duty. And then the entire continent will belong to Rome! The cheers with which the Legions greeting this prospect were ecstatic, to say the least.
Listen up, men, Catullus said afterwards to the Fourteenth Legion
his Legion now, after leading them for two years, and their rapt attention and admiring looks confirmed itI want the Fourteenth to earn a new honour. I want us to be the ones who track down Montezuma and bring him in chains to Caesar! And Ill give every man in this Legion an extra days pay and an extra day off if we do it!
The legionaries roared with eagerness, and Catullus turned and favoured Lucius with a smile and a wink.
They dont need the added incentive, you know, Lucius told him once the men had been dismissed. Theyd hunt down Montezuma just because you asked them to do it.
I know, Catullus said with a nod. But theyve earned it. And I know they can do it. Thatll be quite a feather in our caps, wont it?
Lucius nodded, but did not smile. I suppose, but we have a battle to fight first. Ill have the centurions remind the men to focus on the fight and worry about Montezuma only when its clear that weve won.
Catullus nodded his consent. Good thinking. Always the
primus pilus, eh? he said, slapping his friend on his shoulder. I swear, Fortunaherself placed me in your Legion, Lucius Rutullus!
Then that old Roman goddess has a peculiar sense of irony, Lucius thought, but did not say aloud. You still believe in the old gods? he asked his friend.
Catullus shrugged. Its a figure of speech. I cant say I ever give religion much thought. He frowned, considering things for a moment. I hope that doesnt offend you. Are you religious?
Confucian, Lucius answered.
Ah, like my wife, Catullus said, then frowned. Strange how weve never talked about it before.
Its not surprising, Lucius said. Its sad, in a way. Every religion I know of preaches tolerance, but look at us nowfighting a war over it! He shook his head. It should bring people together, but instead, religion seems to set men apart. No wonder you and I havent discussed it.
Silently, Lucius reflected that he and Catullus had more than enough that could come between them already, and it had been difficult for him to set that aside and befriend the man. He had not written to Claudia since that letter he sent two years ago, assuring her that hed watch out for her husband. Any more communication with the wife of another man struck him as unseemly. He told himself that whatever he and Claudia might have once had, it was now over. And he thought that if he kept telling himself that, he might actually start to believe it one day.
I see your point, Catullus conceded, then smiled. Even so, if two of the people I love and respect most in the world follow that faith, perhaps I should look into it as well.
Lucius glanced at Catullus and grinned. When the wars over, I could take you to the Kong Miao in Antium. I might even be able to introduce you to Mencius.
The High Priest? Catullus said, eyebrows rising. Even a non-believer such as himself kept appraised of whos who in Romes state religion. You
know him? he asked, obviously impressed.
I only had the privilege of meeting him once, Lucius said. But he leaves an impression. He paused and looked thoughtful. Quiet, gentle wisdom. He nodded. Yes, thats how Id describe it.
Id be honoured, Catullus said, and I know Claudia would be thrilled.
Lucius flinched slightly in reaction to a sudden twist in his gut. He realized for the first time that when the war was over, his friendship with Catullus would require him to be in Claudias presence from time to time. How on earth was he going to manage
that? It was one thing to resign himself to Claudias marriage as an abstract concept; how was he going to feel when he saw them together?
Ill just have to soldier on through it, the legionary told himself.
***
The next day, like a great synchronized machine, the Roman army went to work, bent on the task of prying open the Aztec capital. The catapults stripped the city of its defences, opening multiple breaches in the walls, then showering the city defenders with missiles to weaken them. After that, as usual, it was the task of the Legions to finish off the city garrisons.
The Fourteenth Legion marched, wary and watchful, through a southern breach in the walls. Like all city garrisons they had encountered, those of the capital would be dug in; theyd know every street, every alley, every house, every nook and cranny where they could hide and fire their arrows and ambush the invaders of their city. Conversely, the city raiders had to stay in their protective formation and deal with each threat as it arose before moving on to the next. It was dangerous work, but the Fourteenth excelled at it.
Nevertheless, they were more cautious than usual. When theyd captured the minor city of Texcoco, theyd fought a garrison of archers wielding longbows. The longer bows launched arrows with greater forcecapable of piercing Roman armour, even shields at close range. Theyd heard that a similar garrison was defending the capital. Hence their caution.
The Legion was marching in formation, shields raised, down an Aztec street that led to the citys central square. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of Lucius neck rose as if to attention, his battle instincts honed now by years of experience.
AMBUSH! he shouted, and the leading rank and file tightened their formation, drawing their shields closer together, and just in time; a veritable hailstorm of arrows erupted from every surrounding window, doorway, and rooftop. The arrows were apparently shot from ordinary bows, because they clattered uselessly against the broad, strong Roman shields. The Romans stood their ground, waiting for the barrage of arrows to end, for the Archers to run out of ammunition and attack with nothing more than their long daggers.
This they did a moment later, in far greater numbers than the Romans expected. The shields and
gladii did their brutal work, but the Archers seemed intent on breaking through the Roman line in an attempt to break it up completely. They threw themselves at the Roman shields, angrily thrusting their daggers over top and between any gaps; they even crawled on their bellies to try to infiltrate the Roman formation from below, only to find themselves stomped down by the hard hobnails in the bottoms of the Romans heavy, hobnailed sandals.
The Legion was assaulted from all sides but its rear, which stretched back through the city streets to the breach where theyd entered. They knew that all they had to do was stand their ground and wait for the attackers to exhaust themselves and diminish in number as the legionaries short stabbing swords cut them down.
But then disaster struck. Among the attacking archers, one appeared wielding the dreaded longbow. A single ill-fated missile, launched from that powerful new bow, got through a gap the raised shields. And of all the legionaries to find and strike, that one arrow, guided as if by sheer malice, found its way to one of two men whose injury would do the Fourteenth Legion its greatest harm.
Catullus shout of pain and anger when the arrow struck home was heard by every man fighting in the front ranks, and they all recognized its source. His sword arm had been raised to ward off an archers dagger, allowing the arrow to penetrate deep into his right side, below his armpit, in the gap between the front and back of his body armour. His arm went limp and his
gladius clattered to the cobblestones. The rest of his body followed it down.
NO!! Lucius shouted from nearby as he saw his friend and commanding officer fall. In that moment, he forgot that he was
primus pilus, forgot that the men would now look to him to give them orders and shore up their courage. He was consumed with concern for his friend, and with the powerful need to live up to the promise hed made to the woman they both loved to keep him safe.
He pushed his way through the crush of armoured bodies towards Catullus, heedless of the growing confusion and disorder that was spreading like a disease through the ranks. He sheathed his sword and reached down to his fallen friend, saw the arrow and the blood, and turned to the men around him.
Get him out of
Lucius ordered them, but spoke no more than that, for he was interrupted by a thundering crash that came from behind him, emanating from the front rank.
The Aztecs had somehow managed to lift a large stone to the top of one of the roofs of the buildings that lined the street, and theyd just pushed it over the edge. It had crashed down upon the front right corner of the Roman formation, killing two men instantly and injuring three more. Negligible casualties in the great scheme of things, but for a moment that stretched out far too long, it accomplished something far more terrible: it opened a hole in the Roman line, and before the stunned legionaries could react, the Aztec archers came screaming through that hole.
In an instant, the Romans front ranks disintegrated into hand-to-hand combat and utter chaos. The Roman heavy infantry were much more heavily armoured than their Aztec opponents, but the archers were numerous, and were fighting for their capital city and their homeland; they were ferocious, even fanatical.
FALL BACK! Lucius shouted. FALL BACK AND REFORM THE LINE!
Which is precisely what the legionaries proceeded to do, extricating themselves as best they could from their attackers and dropping back to re-establish order among their ranks. Lucius was about to join them when he realized that Catullus still lay at his feet, badly wounded. He couldnt abandon him. Then he looked up and further realized that he and his wounded commanding officer were suddenly and utterly alone. The Legions had retreated several yards behind him, and with dozens of furious Aztec archers only a few paces away, his comrades might as well have been on the moon. The legionaries were shifting and struggling to reform themselves without his steadying presence, staring ahead, in shock, at him and the prostrate body of their leader.
Lucius turned to face the Aztecs, who paused to stare in disbelief at the amazing prospect of seeing a legion in retreat and two legionariesboth obviously leadersripe for the taking before them. Among them Lucius spotted the longbowman who had apparently wounded Catullus.
You wont touch him, you bastards! Lucius roared at them in their native tongue. Ill kill every last one of you that tries!
The Aztecs rushed him while the longbowman reached into his quiver for another arrow. Lucius sword hand reached to his belt, but instead of clasping his sword handle, grabbed a dagger, which he threw with deadly accuracy at the longbowman. It struck the man dead in the chest, and he staggered backwards, his formidable bow clattering uselessly to the cobblestones.
Two archers were upon Lucius; he slammed his heavy shield into them, winding them both and knocking them to the ground. Lucius then drew his gladius and steadied himself, his feet planted on either side of Catullus, his shield held before him. Two more archers reached him, daggers raised to strike; he knocked one down by ramming him with his shield, the other fell after his sword emptied the mans bowels onto the street. More archers came at him; he chopped at the hands holding their daggers, severing several at the wrist; he struck at their guts, leaving them staggering and clutching their bellies; he butted them with his heavy shield, winding them and leaving them to be crushed beneath their comrades feet. One archer circled behind him, but Lucius saw him, deftly changed his grip on his sword, and stabbed backwards into the mans stomach before he could strike. Others in the rear shot their remaining arrows at him, or resorted to hurling stones, but these clattered uselessly against his shield or armour.
What the hell are you
mentulae waiting for, a written invitation? Gnaeus Decumius shouted at the leading ranks of the Legion as they watched Lucius in amazement while he fought alone and held his ground over his fallen friend. FORWARD!!
The Fourteenth Legion rushed ahead in an orderly run, yelling a blood-curdling battle-cry, and slammed into the Aztecs that now threatened to overwhelm Lucius through sheer numbers alone. Just as his fellow legionaries surged around him, an Aztec archer, his teeth bared in an angry grimace, lunged at him. The man brought his dagger down at Lucius overhand; the blade struck the top edge of his shield and shattered. Its tip ricocheted off the shield and struck Lucius in his left eye. He cried out in pain, cursing, and dropped to the ground beside his fallen comrade for a brief moment before other legionaries hauled them both up and bore them back to safety.
Minutes later, they were both in the surgeons tent outside the city walls. The first arrow that had struck Catullus had penetrated deep into his chest cavity. His condition was dire, and the surgeons were focused on him. A doctor had found time to remove the knife shard from Lucius eye, but could not save the eye itself. Lucius lay on a cot, all but forgotten, the left upper side of his face swathed with bandages which were soaked with blood. A nurse gave him a tincture of poppies for the pain. Lucius felt his face, indeed, his entire body growing pleasantly numb, but the narcotic could not quell the pain in his heart.
Some time laterhow long Lucius couldnt tella surgeon came over to him.
I understand youre a friend of the man who was brought in with you? the surgeon, a heavy-set man with short hair going grey, said to him.
Yes, Lucius said, his concern forcing him from his drugged torpor. How is he?
Im sorry, son, the surgeon said, shaking his head and patting Lucius on the shoulder. He didnt make it.
Lucius pressed his lips together and nodded. The surgeon left him. A moment later, his injured face become contorted with sorrow, and tears fell from his remaining eye. Those few who saw him and noticed him assumed he was weeping for his lost friend and commanding officer, but they could not know there was more to it than that. For Lucius was wracked by guilt, convinced that despite his heroic efforts and their terrible cost, he could have done something more, or something different, that would have saved Catullus life.
Worse still, he felt certain that he had failed not for want of courage, but because of jealously and avarice, because he coveted his friends wife. The malicious spirit in his head, so long suppressed, had finally won. But as a result, Lucius was certain, he had lost her forever. He had failed to keep his promise, had failed to keep Catullus alive, and had thus failed Claudia and failed himself. The pain of losing an eye was nothing in comparison; Lucius lay on the cot in the surgeons tent and lost himself to the deepest and most profound misery he had ever known.
***
Tenochtitlan fell that day, but Montezuma escaped. The Fourteenth Legion was far more concerned with the fates of their two revered leaders to go chasing after a beaten foreign monarch; his capital had fallen, and his own fate was assured. Once other legionaries had relieved them in the fight to take the capital, the Fourteenth hurried to crowd outside the surgeons tent and await any news. The medical staff were so busy, however, that the legionaries had to wait until Lucius himself came out of the tent, well after nightfall. The Legion uttered a collective sigh of relief upon seeing him, followed by a gasp and worried murmurs when they saw the blood-soaked bandages over his left eye. Lucius staggered under the pain of his wound, the drug still in his system, and the horrible weight of his guilt, though his comrades knew nothing of the latter.
Gnaeus Decumius stepped forward. Lucius Rutullus, he said. What of Quintus Lutatius?
An expression of abject misery registered on the unruined half of Lucius face, and he shook his head. The men around him uttered a groan of great sorrow which only added to the guilt gnawing at Lucius conscience. He left them and, even though his body was still reeling from the awful wound hed received, he returned to his tent and composed a letter, which for all its brevity was nonetheless one of the most difficult things hed ever done in his life.
Dear Claudia,
It is with great regret that I write to inform you that your husband, Quintus Lutatius Catulus Junior, was killed in action here today within the Aztec capital of Tenochtitlan. He fought bravely and made no small contribution to our victory today. He was a most able commander and a good friend. He will be sorely missed, by the men, by Caesar, by Rome, and not least of all by myself.
I send you my deepest and most sincere condolences, and my humblest apology for failing in the task you requested of me. I was standing beside him in the ranks, only a few feet away, yet I failed to protect him. I can offer no excuse for my failure. I cannot imagine that you will ever want to hear from me or see me again, so you will not. I wish you all the best, wherever the future may take you.
Yours sincerely,
Lucius Rutullus Lepidus
And that, Lucius morosely decided, was that. He gave the letter to an attendant to be dispatched to Rome, then he returned to his tent. The narcotic was wearing off and his eyeor, more properly, his eye socketwas beginning to ache. He welcomed the pain. He felt that he deserved it. Even so, he fell asleep almost as soon as he laid his head down, and his sleep was dark and bereft of dreams.
Oftentimes an inner conflict is more interesting than an external one. If I'd wanted Lucius' rival to be a mustache-twirling villain, I would have married Claudia off to Cinna. 
Making him a decent person instead makes things more difficult for our protagonist--and for the reader. I mean, you all want Lucius to end up with Claudia, but you also want him to do the right thing, and those two goals have now become irreconcilable. Writers are sadists, you see; they take nice people (including their readers) and put them through hell. 
i'm sorry sisiutil for asking too much. I just found this story couple of days ago, so i read this story nonstop without waiting. now i have to wait to read the next update, that's why i sounded too impatient.
As you aptly pointed out, Caesar's work is far from done. 
