Victoria slung her capsa over her shoulder and followed Verus, Longinus, Lysias, and Demetrius to a foward medical tent. Behind her, the town had been further fortified with ditches, as well as pontoon bridges across the rivers in case the army needed to escape. Ahead of her 10 legions, 8 auxilia and thousands of Armenians, Greeks and others awaited the Parthian advance.
The Parthian army, without large segments of its vaunted cavalry, spread out on the hills overlooking the town. Beyond them, for days, Juba and Lucius had cut off their supply lines, burned storage depots, killed pickets and outposts, stampeded and slaughtered animals, and created as much terror and confusion as they could. The Parthians were crippled as large segments of their cavalry were occupied elsewhere and their bowmen were low on arrows. The Romans had to seize this advantage now. For both armies, this was a must-win battle. There was no way out or back for either of them.
...
Bolt raised his arms and let an orderly drop a tunic over his head. It was made of white wool and calf-length, with a thin red stripe down the left side and around the edge indicating a Tribune Angusticlavis or officer cadet.
"If I stand up on the balls of my feet and don't touch my heels, we can get the toga on," Bolt said.
Crispinus helped him stand as two orderlies draped the semi-circle of white wool around hin and tucked it in place. An orderly paced a bronze torq around Bolt's neck with two stylized lion's heads on its ends. It had belonged to Old Marcus and then Gaius and was another link to Antony. The other orderly draped the toga over his head and onto his right shoulder. Thoughts of a burial shroud filled Bolt's mind. If things went wrong today, it would be just that. Bearers brought a litter into the room. Leaning on Crispinus, Bolt walked toward it.
"Don't faint, don't faint, don't faint," he whispered to himself with each pain-wracked step. He lay propped in the litter as Crispinus brought his jackal's head dagger in its sheath and put it beside him. One of Gaius' staffers entered the room and laid a box with the imperial seal on his lap.
"From the August One to you, Tribune," he said. "The formal presentation will be made later but your uncle wanted you to have it now and wear it for the day."
"Here we go with this," Bolt muttered. "Damn it."
He opened the box and saw the silver wreath and arm band. It could be worn even on occasions when wearing the wreath was impractical or inappropriate. He slipped the arm band onto his upper right arm below the ruined "SPQR" tattoo.
"That cancels out a lot," he said.
"The wreath cancels out all of it," Crispinus said.
Bolt let an orderly place it on his head and redrape the toga. As ready as he could be, the bearers carried the litter to the courtyard below, where the allied commanders and their staffs were assembled. Seeing the battle-hardened men around him, Bolt flushed beet-red. Artaxis of Armenia leaned down to him.
"No blushing like a schoolboy today, Tribune," he said. "Today you are Mark Antony. Act like it."
"Yes, Sir," Bolt said.
General Marcus mounted his horse and led them out of the palace complex and through the town. People cheered and Bolt heard the Armenian word for eagle shouted at him. He made eye contact and smiled at the Armenian townsfolk, who were just as terrified of the Parthians as he now was. The group followed General Marcus to a rise where his headquarters tent was placed. Somewhere below, Gaius and Alexander of Emessa waited to lead the advance. Marcus nodded to Bolt.
"On your mark, Tribune," he said.
Bolt drew the dagger from its sheath and jabbed its gleaming blade into the air.
YOU ARE READING
Domina Victrix
Historical FictionDescendants of Triumvir Mark Antony through his little-known first wife, young cousins, Victoria and Marcus, have always known they were heirs to a mixed-blessing heritage. Roman men were expected to brutally dominate their families and the world a...
