The burden and guilt of knowing that so many of his people weren’t going to go home was what got under his skin. He wanted to give his men more than a bloody death from a battle that should never have been fought. They deserved more — they deserved long and happy lives: to have and watch their children grow, get into trouble, see their children have children, and then to die, in bed, surrounded by loved ones. That was peace. That was happiness. Not this.

Nevertheless, the world did not work so. Instead, Gaius had to do everything in his power to ensure his men’s safety. He had to train them hard, and teach them to kill without a second’s thought. They were soldiers, and all had sworn an oath to the Republic.

Gaius stared up at the star-filled sky. Its beauty was the one true thing that felt natural; a small comfort at least. He wondered, however, gazing up at the heavens, why the gods toyed with men. Why they took such joy in seeing their children tear each other apart for little or no gain? How better the world would be if the gods had never existed.

Suddenly, Gaius remembered the letter that Antony had given him earlier in the evening.

Removing it from under his tunic, he carefully broke the seal. Right away, as he opened the papyrus, Julia’s scent enveloped him, which caused him to close his eyes and picture in his mind’s eye her touch against his bare skin.

He carefully read each word by the torchlight, studying each sentence with meticulous care.

Dearest Gaius,

It troubles me that we are apart for so long. I miss you more than my simple words can express. I know we have said much to one another and have spent a great deal of time together, but it is still not enough. I long for your touch, the warmth of your body against mine, the touch of your lips. I know that for whatever reasons the fates have conspired to keep us apart, and that I’m destined to marry a man I can never love as much as I love you. However, I can’t curse the gods either. I cannot bring myself to hate them, for I’m grateful for the time we shared together — what it has meant to me. I cannot pretend that I understand everything that is going on in the world, why you must be away from me in body, but not soul. Each day away from you brings tears to my eyes. I fear what might be, what darkness might lie over the horizon. I’m frightened for you, Gaius. I’m fearful that you won’t come back to me. I can’t live without you, and that scares me even more. Please, Gaius, please come back to me. I will always be waiting for you, my love.

Be well and be safe.

Eternally,

Julia.

Gaius heard someone coming towards him. He quickly folded the letter and placed it back under his tunic. He didn’t bother to turn around. He didn’t care who might be walking towards him, as he only wished to be left alone.

“It is a beautiful night, don’t you think, Prefect?”

Gaius turned sharply when he realized it was Paullus standing next to him, before he quickly saluted the consul, but he was stopped as Paullus raised his hand quickly and said, “No, please, no formalities. I only want to stand here and enjoy this wonderful view with you, Gaius. Is that all right?”

“Of course, sir, if you wish,” Gaius replied as he turned back and looked out over the far horizon, towards the town of Cannae and the glimmering torchlight of Hannibal’s encampment.

“You are close friends with Varro’s son, Antony, and his sister, Julia, are you not?” Paullus asked after a short pause. He seemed to hesitate in asking his question, as if he had been afraid to even utter a word.

Gaius looked over at Paullus, puzzled, knowing that the consul already knew the answer to that question. However, Paullus kept his eyes fixed upon the horizon, seemly not particularly looking at anything.

“Yes, sir, I’ve known both since I was a child.”

“Then you are close to them?”

Paullus spoke softly.

“I would like to think I am,” Gaius answered simply.

“I’ve only known them for a short while. When I was first approached by Varro and offered to marry his daughter, I was hesitant. I always, foolishly I will admit, though I would marry for love, and not political gain. However, when I first met her, I knew then that all my apprehension was for naught. She is intoxicating. I could never have imagined that a woman such as her could exist; it is enough to make you — “Paullus paused as he looked for the right words.

“To believe in the gods and all the possibilities unseen or unspoken,” Gaius added.

Paullus smiled as he glanced over towards Gaius.

“Yes, exactly. When I’m around her, I feel that I can fly, or scale the tallest mountains — that I can be a better man. I don’t know how to properly express it. I wish I was born a poet. Oh, how I envy you Gaius. I would have loved to have known her as long as you have, to share as much as you two. I’ve seen the way she is around you, how comfortable you make her feel. If only I could make her feel the same.” Paullus sighed heavily. “I know that she does not love me the same as, I do her, but how I wish to just have the chance to be with her longer, to build her a better world. However, I know she doesn’t love me. She will marry me, of course, as is demanded of her, and maybe in time she may come to care deeply for me, but love…” Paullus shook his head, fearful of his own words.

“Could you live as I, Gaius?” Paullus asked as he turned to him.

“No, I could not, sir,” Gaius answered honestly.

“You are a good man, sir,” Gaius spoke honestly. “She knows that, and will love and admire that man, as long as you stay truthful to yourself, and do everything in your power to make her happy, beyond material wealth. I understand her enough to know that she values certain qualities, such as honor and truthfulness more than anything you could ever buy her. She will love a man who embodies these things.”

Paullus smiled as he let his mind drift for a moment, thinking long on Gaius’ words. He then turned and looked over at him before he placed his hand down onto Gaius’ shoulder.

“Thank you, my friend.” With those words, Paullus turned and headed back down the stairs, before he disappeared into the camp.

Gaius remained where he was for a moment longer as he stared up into the heavens and again watched the flickering stars high above him — his mind a hundred miles away, back in Rome, with Julia.

He reached back into his tunic and pulled out the letter she sent him. He read it again. He needed to remember her, to see her in his mind’s eye. Her word, which expressed her true feelings for him was all he had left.

The dust obstructed Antony’s view as much as it choked his throat. He could barely see more than a dozen feet in front of him. His men, who had formed along the right flanks, had already faltered, as had the entire army. Carthaginian soldiers were now mixed with his own troops, as discipline had failed. He tried as best he could to keep order; to try to reform his men but his words were drowned out by the screams and fighting of men all around him as his men were being cut to pieces.

The battle had started promising he had to admit. The mass of Roman bodies hit the smaller forces of Hannibal, while the Carthaginian general had sacrificed his Celtic soldiers in the center, which began to falter when the superior Roman formations advanced on them. However, Hannibal’s s cavalry overwhelmed the Roman counterparts, as the center continued to advance once the Celts had begun to withdraw. Unknown, the Romans fell into a trap as Hannibal’s center had created a gully, which the legions were trapped.

It was impossible. There was no way that Hannibal could have tricked his enemy for a third time, not when Rome had poured all its resources, and had finally gotten a pitched-battle. However, Antony soon learned that Hannibal’s forces, with years more experience and dozens of victories, while outnumbered, equaled any thousand Roman soldiers.