Domina Victrix

Chapter 23: 23 AD, Armenia and Syria

Juba walked through the halls of the royal palace at Artaxata. Every available room had been used to house wounded. Most of the larger homes and buildings in the city were also full. Rome had won this battle, but the butcher's bill was staggering. Hundreds dead and wounded on both sides, thousands of Parthians captured and on their way to slavery or worse. An orderly approached him.

"Are you looking for Antonius?" he asked.

"Yes," Juba said and followed him to a room. Bolt lay on his side on a cot, stupified by myrrh and henbane extract to combat pain, his entire body swathed in bandages. He was emaciated from constant maltreatment and little to no food for days. His labored breathing was painful to hear. Heat from a high fever radiated from him. Gaius sat nearby to offer comfort for pain that potions could not reach. Juba came to the foot of the bed.

"I'd ask how he is but it's obvious," he said.

"He's alive, but I'm not so sure that's a good thing," Gaius said.

Juba sighed, remembering the young cousin who loved riding, archery, swimming, hiking, pumping weights, and sparring with swords. He played board games and practical jokes with equal abandon, told stories and cracked jokes and smart remarks, cared about his family and those less fortunate, would help anyone in need, and befriended moody loners like Cornelius and crusty veterans like Aulus Verus and Old Aelius Burrus. How much of him would they get back?

"Marcus, if you're awake, Juba is here," Gaius said.

Bolt opened his eyes and searched for Juba. He came around to the side of the bed.

"We won," Juba said. "And you were part of that. I'm damn proud of you and I need you. So get well and hurry back to us."

Bolt reached for Juba's hand.

"I'll shake your hand when you're in better shape, Tribune," Juba said. "For now, just rest. You've earned it."

He held out a lead dog tag or signaculum on a chain.

"You'll need this back."

He slipped the chain over Bolt's head. Bolt's eyes glistened as he tried to whisper 'thank you.'

Cornelius entered the room. He, too, came to the foot of the bed.

"I've rotated back to Headquarters," he said to Gaius. "Aeneas Burrus as well. General Marcus thinks those bastards might still come after him."

"Over a damn letter!" Gaius snapped. "It's not like they couldn't have figured this out by other ways. My brother is pretty damn good but not original. His ideas on strategy are fairly basic."

"They didn't expect to lose," Juba said. "They needed someone to blame. They wanted to stick it to an Antony."

Gaius stood up.

"Juba and I have to get back," he said to Bolt. "Cornelius is here."

Bolt tried to smile as his eyes sought out Cornelius. An orderly came into the room with a tray as Juba and Gaius left.

"Broth and more gall with myrrh," he said.

He set the tray down on a table and brought the broth and a spoon.

"We have to get something in your system, Tribune," he said to Bolt.

Bolt turned his head on the pillow as the man put a spoon to his lips. He swallowed the liquid. After a few more spoonfuls, he worked his mouth around some words.

"Water, please," he whispered.

The orderly dripped some water into Bolt's mouth.

"Thank you," Bolt said.