Valerius’ was kept in a separate room. Gaius had strict orders to his guards the general be left alone. Those that had pestered Gaius all day weren’t allowed within ten feet of him. If they dared the squad of guards, each man of the Sixth would have gutted anyone who tried, regardless of rank or privilege.

Gaius stepped into the small room. Right away, he could feel the musty heat, not from the torches that burned along the walls, but from the temperature that was slowly cooking his mentor from the inside.

Gaius wished that Valerius’ condition would have improved over the last four days, but that was wishful thinking. Valerius was going to die and despite the old man’s stubbornness and willingness to live, there was nothing that could be done for him.

It was only a matter of time now.

Gaius inched around Valerius’ bed trying as best he could be silent. He wanted to say something but found he could not form words. Valerius looked to be asleep, so he didn’t want to bother him with needless details about the day and the happenings in the city.

There was a pile of soaked rags, both covered with blood and sweat that rested next to the bed. The old veteran’s body glistened in the torchlight, and despite his body temperature, he shivered under the wolf pelt blankets. Gaius almost broke down then and there, but he wasn’t given the chance as Valerius opened his eyes and turned his head, staring up at his pupil before a small trickle of a smile formed in the corner of his mouth.

“Are the men safe and in the city?” Valerius asked, somehow finding the strength to speak.

Gaius grabbed a stool that sat in the corner and placed it beside the bed, before he sat himself down on it; his joints cracked. It was the first time in days that he was actually free to get off of his feet and rest, even for a moment.

He stared down at Valerius with heavy eyes. Taking a deep breath, he replied, “They are. We all made it inside without any loses.”

“You look, terrible. You do know that?” Valerius grinned, which caused Gaius to laugh as he ran his hand through his thick and matted hair. Only then did he seem to realize that it had grown longer than should have been allowed.

“It is not befitting for an officer in my army. Even so, I bet this new rustic look will drive the girls crazy. Wait until you show them the scars,” Valerius smiled before he fell into a coughing fit, which lasted several painful seconds before it subsided.

“You’re not looking well yourself, old man,” Gaius replied with a comforting grin.

“I’ve been better, that is for sure.”

Gaius tried to smile, but Valerius could see he only managed it with considerable effort.

“How are you?” Valerius then asked.

Gaius paused as his mind processed the question.

“I have men along the walls, guarding each gate and passage into the city. I’ve kept forty riders out beyond the city limits, scouting for any signs of Hannibal. And-”

“No,” Valerius cut him off before he could speak further. “I asked — how are you?”

Gaius sighed deeply as he lowered his head and answered, speaking words he never thought he would hear himself say out loud.

“I’m afraid…” Right away he felt ashamed that he had admitted that to Valerius. However, the old veteran rose higher in his bed even though it pained him to do so. He listened carefully as Gaius felt compelled to continue. “I’m afraid of what is to come, that I will fail the men, the city and you.”

“You’ve already proven yourself. You have no one to answer for. Gaius, you’ve faced your enemies and have lived. You’ve protected your men, and have brought them home safely.”

“Not everyone.”

“Bah! You cannot hold those deaths over your head. We are not gods. We cannot pick and choose which of us lives, and who dies.”

Valerius reached out and took Gaius’ hand in his own, holding onto him tightly.

“You are like a son, to me. You always have been. I will leave this world knowing that my boys are in the best of care. You will keep them safe, and when the time comes, you will lead them once more into battle. Men will die. Battles will be fought, won and lost, but always they will have you. And they will look to you now with the same eyes you’ve looked at me.”

“And if Rome should fall?”

“Then it shall fall. However, not because good men such as yourself gave up.”

He laid back down, flinching painfully as the arrow that was still lodged in his chest, pinched deeper into his body.

“You are more a man than I could have ever hoped to be. At your age, I cared nothing about the future, my duties or the affection of those I commanded. I’ve had time to look back at my life, the mistakes I’ve made, the promises I’ve broken and the loves I let get away from me. If I could, I wish that I could go backward and smack the boy I used to be, and demand that he wake up and live — not, for the moment, not for the next conquest or battle, but just to live and enjoy what little time we have. It is too late for me now, and when I look back, the only joy I can find, was the hand I had in raising you, Gaius.”

He shifted his eyes up, which were watering now as he stared at Gaius, who leered over him with equal sadness in his gaze.

“I can never replace your father, nor would I try. I can take pride, like he would have in the man you’ve become — greater than he or I could ever hope to have been.”

“I don’t know if I can continue with this,” Gaius admitted.

“You will…I can see it in your heart that you don’t know how to quit. Forget what you can’t change — move beyond the past. There will be a world after this war, and while you may never forget what you’ve lived through, have seen or have done, you will least live beyond it.”

Valerius reached out, holding his hand steady and waited for Gaius to take it, which he did.

“Find what has the most meaning for you, Gaius, and hold onto it — protect it, and in the end, your life will be full. Don’t let your end be like mine. Let your life have meaning, like your father did."

Gaius lowered his head and whispered, “I love you, Valerius.”

“As do I, my son.”

Those would be some of the last words Gaius would ever share with Valerius, as he remained with his old friend, his mentor and second father for the next four days, before Valerius, the last great Roman veteran of another era finally succumbed to his injuries. The following morning after his passing, the whole of the Sixth Legion stood out on the Fields of Mars and burned their beloved father’s body, and when the act was done and the final words said, Gaius left his men and found himself walking through the city streets. Rome was slowly coming back to life once it was confirmed that Hannibal, for reasons only known to the warlord, had forsaken laying siege to Rome, and instead set up camp at Campania.

Rome was spared and for the first time in months, everyone, citizen and soldier alike took a deep breath and thought to what next was to come — how to rebuild and regroup. Gaius, however, couldn’t share in the same joy. His mind and heart were trapped elsewhere.

When he found himself coming to a crossroad, one, which led nowhere, in particular, and one that would take him to Julia, he was vexed as to which he should take. He had not seen her or sent word to her about his return. He couldn’t face her and say to her that her father and brother were dead, and he couldn’t tell her that their deaths would not be avenged because he failed to kill Calfax.

It wasn’t until he actually reached the iron gates that he realized he was standing at her doorstep.

When he knocked, the front gate was answered by the same-old house slave that had greeted him each time he had visited in the past. He peered through the eye hole. Quickly, the old man opened the gate, and with wide eyes he called out, “Master Gaius, you are alive!”