Rolling dice on the Rubicon

The cool morning air hits my freshly shaven face. I hadn’t had a shave in days, let alone the warm bath that I had the night before. As the cool causes my skin to rise a little, the Sun’s rays hit me, like a comforting blanket. I close my eyes and inhale as deeply as I can, there has been something set in motion that of which I cannot change. I was merely born, now I am here, be it by fortune?

I watch from the corner of my eye as a great man embraces his legions, his mouth is moving, but I cannot hear words. Everything feels as if life itself has slowed down. After our early morning rendezvous with him and a few select officers, I am still in a place not ready to accept our new fate. I move my eyes forward and see the men standing and gazing upon what they undoubtedly believe is a God. Some not fully in armor, some just coming off watch. Some half dressed even.

All were ordered to be here, and now they stand. Ready for a speech from Rome's greatest speaker. 

As he begins to speak and words are form into action, some are in disbelief, some amazed, others awe struck. For some of the newer recruits, this may be their only chance at true glory through combat. My eye catches a young officer, stoned faced, stoic. 

“Is that how I look?” I think to myself. This moment is not about me though, it's about the future of our Republic.

I can feel the make shift stage slightly sway as cool winds continue to blow. I close my eyes again to control my emotions. Some of these fools have no idea what we are truly set to do. I pity them. No, I envy them. They are as a child who knows no right from wrong. Ignorant, but present.

At sixteen I became a staff officer. Once I was trained enough, I was given the chance to lead. I was awarded the Corona Muralis, first man over the wall, in our last battle. Only then did I truly feel I was a true leader. Someone the others can look to for inspiration, motivation, determination. 

I thought that’d be enough to make my Uncle proud. A man now addressing his legions in full armor with a golden laurel wrapped around his head.

I glance back at him. 

“Magnificent man.” I think to myself.

He has a brilliance to him I have never seen before. His presence alone commands attention. Soon to be a God no woman or man or child or beast can deny. His hands motion as if he were demanding full focus and buy in. His eyes are not fixed but rather scan across the faces of the Army. His facial expressions alone could speak for him.

He is my everything. Grand and masterful in capability as an orator. His every word is as divine as the last. His every sentence is as if it were written by Jupiter himself. Inspiring, meaningful and full of promise. I am not jealous, but always in awe at his ability to convey a message. No matter how many staff meetings we’ve had, no matter how many times I have galloped back to his position to report, no matter how many conversations only he and I have had. His aura is self assured, calm, disciplined and all undeniable. Worthy of loyalty.

An intensity I have felt and vigilance of my own soul begins to relax. He is reality, and I am a dreamer.

From his chest, with conviction he decrees, “This afternoon, we cross the Rubicon!”

The men shout with excitement. They strike their swords on their chest, armor, shields and raise them high.

Full of pride, every man begins to swear allegiance and scream with all their might “Caesar! Caesar! Caesar!” They are making the man into a God. “Caesar! Caesar! Caesar!” Caesar only smirks confidently. Almost as if he doesn't want the admiration. Caesar is sure of himself.

Caesar has my full attention, and as I look at him, he looks to his left. He looks at a man that is only nearly a perfect reflection of himself. The great Marcus Antonius. They both inhale deeply into their chests, Marcus’s head tilts slightly. The Sun radiates off of him as if he himself was the God who just gave the speech.

They smile, almost beginning to laugh. I can't tell who is more excited as they embrace each other with open arms.

Steadfast, I begin to realize, we are on a path to conquer Rome. The shameful Republic, the rich swine in the capitol. There is nothing more that I despise than old men making decisions on behalf of us. Drinking their wines, feasting on flamingo tongue, fat and happy. They could stand to lose some weight running from us! I cannot wait to slide my dagger between their ribs.

We, ourselves will be crowned liberators! The people will embrace us as their sons, their first born, their new men!

Caesar now turns and looks at me. I feel chills as if ice has found its way to my spine. My hands begin to shake. Is it fear? Excitement? No, hope, hope for a better tomorrow. One we can gain today.

I think to myself “Why is he looking at me? Can he see my shaking? Can he hear my thoughts?"

I remain as still on the outside as possible.

“And you my Son? Have you truly the ability to hide your eagerness to exact our revenge on Rome? My good friend Pompey has cursed us. Can you be trusted to give him and the Senate my message?”

“Can I be trusted?” I think to myself. I have served by his side since I was a boy. Surely this is symbolic as a question. Am I waiting too long to answer? My eyes lock with his.

I can still see the men in my peripheral vision. However, the cheers continue around us but have become deaf to my ears.. I hesitate for just a moment more. Not because I am afraid. This just seems a bit unnatural. Am I faltering? Will history remember this moment? Or will I just be another Officer, like so many others that have come and gone. Faded into just a memory.

No, I am so sure of his righteousness. Rome is our beast to slaughter.

Without control my eyes begin to water, I throw my arms open and grab Caesar, my Uncle. I can hear the cheers again. Right now I feel as if I could conquer the world!

“Would you think any less of me, my Uncle!”

He now shows his teeth with a huge smile.

“So be it then my Son. We are liberators!” he says gleefully.

As unnatural the feeling may have been that I had, I remind myself, the scum in the Capital sees things differently. Barely anyone can become a new man, let alone shake the foundation of hundreds of years of the status quo. The rich stay rich. Everything has to profit them. Most of the cowards barely served a short term in the legions, mostly in cushy positions bought through bribery. None of them should be the envy of any person.

Not me. I am different. They cheat the citizens. I will work hard for the citizenry, for the people, for the Romans! They take what they want. Not I, whatever I have in abundance, it shall be given back. They hide from threats. I will run towards them. They own many villas. I own only the dirt beneath my feet.

Caesar grabs me again by the back of the arm. He pulls me close. I can feel his breath as it enters and exits his lungs. He leans in even more, almost as if he is to kiss the side of my face.

“Don your gear, meet me at the Command tent once you have readied your horse. You will take some of our companions ahead of the legions and I. You will be my voice, my eyes and ears. Tell me all of what Rome is speaking of once they learn we are en route.”

“Me?” I say, lightly as I do not know if anyone else needs to hear. How could they? The cheers are still as loud as the Gauls battle horns.

“Yes.”

I immediately head to my group. I grab my helmet, the face guard falls. It was a gift from my brother. He is with the Gods now. Surely he must be proud. On the face guard there are tears running from the eyes down to the checks. I rub my thumbs along the grooved tears. 

“Surely he must be proud” I whisper to myself.

I open the face guard and place the helmet gently on the cloth ribbon I have wrapped around my head. I tighten the straps. I called another companion.

“Help me tie down my armor.” He rushes to me.

As he ties it down he asks “How the Gods have brought us glory!”

I grin. Yes, how the Gods have brought us glory. Glory to us, the liberators.

After I place my dagger in the sheath, I mount my steed and ride over to the only tent still set in camp. The center pole is strong and firm. We will need to be just as strong. Crossing the Rubicon is a death wish and there is not a doubt Pompey and his forces will be waiting. I am in no mood to fight fellow citizens, but my allegiance is something that cannot not be undone. Not even by the will of Rome.

As my horse gently touches the Earth beneath its hooves, I can feel its every breath. Does my horse know? How could it? Obedient to the end and my very best of friends. 

As the day begins to warm and the legions ready, I pass a small group of guarded men. They were the commanders and nobles of a conquered tribe. Condemned for Caesar's triumph. In a few weeks they will be marched in a parade as a grand spectacle. Condemned to die for the glory of our people. Among them is a man named Vercingetorix. He bravely fought against the might of our legions.

As I slowly approach he signals with his hand at me. As if he has something to tell me. 

“What could he possibly tell me from the shackles he is in?” I think to myself. I'll entertain him though.

“ What is it you need, oh great warrior?” I say sardonically.

He was within ear shot of the speech. He knows his terrain well and understands our tongue. He can also speak our language well. As smart as he is, why he surrendered will always astonish me. A great man, reduced to shackles and a shell of his former self.

He rises with his hands cuffed together and reaches to me. In the most serious tone he says, 

“If you cross your sacred river, your people will suffer greatly. Your Commander will suffer. You will suffer. You should tell him to turn us all back.”

I pause. I feel as if he is trying to make me waver in my own certainty. I swallow my spit hard. 

I think to myself, Is he trying to make me fearful and lose all hope? Lose hope for a better and more glorious future? Who is he, in chains, to speak to me about what can and cannot be undone? I think to myself angerly, His fate is sealed! Who is he to question our divine intervention for our land? We are right, The Senate is wrong! He is wrong!

I lean in from my horse, getting as close to eye level as possible to him as I can. 

With a chuckle of derision I tell the great warrior,

“Aussi certain que votre descente de la Voie sacrée... there's no going back now.”