Stories Thread

[Tiberius Claudius Marcellus]

Leaches and blood letting

Another violent bout of coughing racked his aching body. It had been like this for a fortnight. His throat was chafed, every muscle and bone was sore, and he felt as if there was an army marching round and round his head. This dreaded cold, wet weather was insufferable. At least in Taras the moist air was warm! Tiberius didn't know what evil plagued him with these humors. He was not a glutton, he gave alms, he aided the less fortunate with legal advice, he prayed with fervor to all the gods equally, and he was diligent in all his duties. He needed some fresh air. Tiberius opened a window to let some of the smoke from the censers out. The priests said to keep the blessed incense burning for three days and what spirits plagued the house would surely be driven out.

Tiberius gasped as the cold, wet air assaulted his face. It was rejuvenating from the sweet stuffiness of the incense smoke. He had fallen ill like this in the past, usually once a winter; but never so completely. He was sure it would pass in time; but one could never be too careful. Tiberius remembered well the lessons of the poet Hesiod: 'Thanatos with his heart of iron and his spirit within him as pitiless as bronze could be anywhere. Whomsoever of men he had once seized he held fast; and he was hateful even to the deathless gods.' Even so, he simply could not bear the atmosphere any longer.

It was then that Quintus Valerius entered the room in a tunic that fit just right and shooed his master away from the opening and fastened the shutters. Tiberius sighed, he would get no relief. Before he could complain Quintus began,

"Master, you will surely journey with the ferry man if you expose yourself so to this inclement weather. Follow the counsel of the priests and one day you will be well again. They are most wise who serve the gods."

Tiberius allowed his frustration to get the better of him,

"Know your place in this house or you shall be put out! I am the master of my own stars and should I deem it fitting to breathe in these vapors then I shall do so." Thinking it better to mend the feelings of his clerk, he continued, "Quintus, you have been an asset to me and this house. You alone are responsible for my station in life now. I ask your forgiveness for this outburst. I am not myself."

Nodding his understanding Quintus replied,

"Master Tiberius, I can sense how miserable you must be feeling. I only wish you long life and health. Allow me to go to the medicus and tell the cooks to prepare a light and invigorating meal. Perhaps pigeon stuffed with fruit and nuts may be to your liking?"

There was nothing lower on Tiberius' mind than eating. He could barely force himself to swallow a broth with the way his throat troubled him so. Still, he could not bring himself to dash the attempts of his newly trusted clerk and gave him leave to visit the medicus. Perhaps he would return with some herbs for a tea. Though it would be painful to swallow, he could always add some honey to it like his mother used to. That seemed to make it just a bit easier to take.

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Tiberius was woken by Quintus lightly tapping at his arm. He hadn't remembered falling asleep; but it had obviously been some time since the lamps were turned on and darkness blanketed the out doors. The smell of pigeon did smell wonderful; but as he swallowed to wet his mouth he quickly gave up on the idea of eating. That was disappointing as days of thin broth had left his stomach on the verge of devouring itself. Perhaps just a nibble might be in order. As Tiberius sat up he cringed at the dull pains throughout his body. Every single joint cried out at the offense and he stifled a gasp as he was jolted awake.

With his eyes adjusted to the flickering light, Tiberius noticed a balding, stooped man with Quintus. He carried a black leather bag and there seemed to be a strong, clean odor of the outdoors emanating from within it. This must be a medicus, but why bring him here? Tiberius inquired,

"Quintus, why have you brought the healer here? A simple bouquet would have been enough."

Quintus brought the man forward who set his bag down and began to rummage through its contents.

"Master, the medicus was not available to help as he was busy with other patients; but he dispatched his aide, this herbalist by the name of Appius Albius Macer. He has worked with the medicus for 30 years and is a most capable mand skilled healer."

Appius stepped forward, a rather thin man; but whose bright grey eyes twinkled in the lamp light with an alertness that defied his age.

"Honored Senator," he began, "I hear told you have fallen ill. These herbs I have are among the best available to help speed away this sickness. If you will, but for a small fee, allow me to mix some poultices and let the humors from your body, I assure you you will be up and about in no time at all."

Tiberius didn't like the idea of blood letting. It was rather messy and the stench of it made him gag. Still, he was want to be rid of this illness quickly. What if it turned to the plague? He silently nodded his acquiescence and the herbalist readily went to work, quietly crushing herbs and griding seeds and blending them with all manner of creams and waters. He broke out into a near-inaudible hum as he worked, and Tiberius' eyes grew heavy with the aroma of the medecines. He was asleep again before the first poultice was applied.

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Within the week, Tiberius was back to his old self. His strength and more importantly his appetite had returned. He wasn't quite sure just how much the herbalist's trade had helped; but he did feel as if he had slept better in the least. For the 'small fees' charged by the man, Tiberius was slow to wholly disregard the healer's effects; but he was still skeptical. There was just something that felt wrong about allowing writhing water worms to feed from you while you were still alive. To the old man's credit, he was still alive to worry, so that much was good. Tiberius decided he would call upon Appius' services again if needed - if only to avoid the sin of tempting the Fates, of course.

[Tiberius Claudius Marcellus]

Legio III Campania sets out

It had taken months of drilling these men, fresh from the fields and cities - many of whom were too young to have even married yet - to turn them into the basic soldiers they were today. These were not men who were grisled and hardened to what ghastly horrors the field of battle had to offer. For that matter, neither were Tiberius or Scipio. These two men, who had been selected by the Legate of the Legion, Legatus Longus, to be his lieutenants had not seen one battle themselves; and yet here they were, appointed to lead these green troops against the enemy - whomever that might be. It rather frightened Tiberius somewhat. At least Servius had fought in two battles prior. He knew what to expect. All that said, these soldiers were not rabble. They were properly trained in the arts of war: they were in top physical condition, they were disciplined, they followed orders, they kept their tents in neat rows and properly displayed their equipment for inspection. The entire Legion even was even praised for the perfect cover and alignment of its troops when it conducted its innaugural parade after training was completed in Capua. Yes, each one of these soldiers had passed a battery of physical tests and had proven themselves worthy of being trusted with the defense of the Res Publica.

Tiberius admonished himself for being nervous. He had been through more intense training than these troops had been. He was, afterall, an officer. He had a personal bodyguard of battle-tested men to protect him with their lives. He also had Marcus, his aide de camp, who had fought for over twenty years in the Epirote army garrisoned in Taras. Marcus would not allow Tiberius to falter. And additionally, the Legion's first assignment was to quell a civil uprising in the hills of Kalabria. No one expected this to be a difficult task, really. Afterall, they were simply untrained farmers with hand tools upset over taxes or a bad harvest. They wouldn't prove much of a fight, he expected. And besides, there were thousands of men that were going to be in front of Tiberius doing the actual fighting. He planned to stay well behind and issue orders, and yell, and posture on his horse so that it appeared he was doing more than he actually was. Yes, Tiberius thought, that was the safest way to get accustomed to battle. Perhaps when he had seen men die and became less confused about the bigger picture would he consider venturing into the fray himself. Until then, this would be a learning exercise.

Tiberius rocked side to side in his saddle. They had been on the march for over half a day without a stop in order to close the distance with the rebellious louts all the quicker. The latest intelligence gathered from the surrounding farms was that the men had taken to the country south east of Tarentum and were not the rabble of pig farmers they were believed to be. By all accounts this was nothing short of a Samnite uprising and the people were terrified. The Legion's scouts reported at least three units of infantry, believed to consist of Samniciti Milites and Samniciti Hastati, as well as some mercenary Greek cavalry. Tiberius noted that perhaps he had underestimated their capabilities. Afterall, an education in a Megale Schole was not the only way a man became wise, and these rebels had obtained plenty of weapons and armor. Perhaps they were remnants of the defending force of Taras?

Tiberius trotted his mount up towards Legatus Longus and asked,

"Sir, when we have dealt with these interlopers, what next for the Legion?"

Servius replied,

"Tribunus, your eyes are bigger than your stomach. Eat what is on your plate before you ask for seconds, lest you become bloated and unable to raise your sword."

Tiberius gave a quick bow of his head,

"Of course, sir. I have been focusing my mind on the scout reports and wished to divert my thoughts elsewhere for a time. I shall redouble my efforts."

Tiberius began to slow his mount to fall back to his position in the column when Servius turned in his saddle and called to him. He regained his lost ground and waited for his Commander to speak. The men spoke of the upcoming battle and of the Legatus' plans. They were sound to the core. The Legio III Campania far outnumbered these rebels, even if they were well armed. When they finished talking it was well into the late afternoon, the sun beginning to cast hues of orange and red ever-so-slightly, and the Legatus signalled to his trumpeter to give the call to halt and set up camp for the night. Tiberius thanked his commander for the lessons of the day and broke away to see to the troops under his command who would be responsible for fashioning and constructing the fort's defenses.

Within the season, the men of the Third Legion would spill blood. Tiberius would see to it that it no one dared raise arms against the Res Publica again.