Book of Bravery: A Novel 2,000 Plus Years in the Making

CHAPTER I

Your Narrator

Beyond my comprehension, I have been dedicated by others to tell this tale. My grammar is woefully lacking, so forgive me in advance. For example, I sometimes have a habit of jumping from past to present tense; a product of the fact that I do not value time so much, but I know you mortals are obsessed by it, so I will do my best to oblige as such.

By way of introduction, I was made to create, to create that which destroys. Throughout history, there have been many of us who have contributed to this necessity, and I have been but one component.

There is no sentiment amongst those of us who have this purpose. Situated between Heaven and Earth, there is naught but our commitment to what we need to do. And that commitment, dear reader, is war.

For centuries, I have molded men into armies, and the army of the Romans was by far my greatest triumph. I cared for it, nurtured it. I whispered into the ears of its leaders, men such as Regillensis, Scipio, Julius Caesar, and Pompey.

They were efficient. They were brutal. They were merciless.

I advised them how to smash the likes of the Sabines, the Samnites, the Carthaginians, the Greeks, the Gauls, and many, many others. Even themselves.

But today, I will see them cast aside by the Parthians, a people who, at their peak, formed an empire wedged between the Romans and the Han Chinese.

From what I saw, they proved to be very worthy adversaries for the Romans. On an arid, dusty plain, in a place that you now understand to be a part of southeast Turkey, they served up another lesson in humility to me and my Romans. Here, seven legions were obliterated by a smaller number of Parthian warriors. Yet I could only observe. There was no meddling allowed during the Battle of Carrhae.

So be what it may, I could only watch as my Romans were harried by the Parthian's mounted archers and then smashed by their heavy cavalry called cataphracts. They were slowly bled and then bludgeoned to death. Seven eagle standards were lost.

Oddly, you may think, this is not by far the day's true significance. The importance is that among all those who fought and died below me is one who would, one day, shine like the sun. The substance of which I shall reveal in the pages ahead.

But it was here, in the year 53 B.C., where this tale begins.

The Fray

The remaining 12,000 or so Romans formed a large defensive square. Thousands of mounted Parthian archers galloped around them, sending great amounts of swirling dust into the air. With their high-power composite bows, the Parthians had, for hours, let loose volley after volley of arrows into the Roman ranks. Despite the legionaries locking shields, arrows found targets. An exposed neck, foot, or face. Those who remained unscathed hoped in vain that their enemy's supply of arrows would run out.

Amongst them all, I watched a fresh-faced centurion try to inspire any of his men capable of fighting. He was in his 20s. A fine example of a mortal. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Sandy hair. Bright blue eyes that contrasted starkly with the red crest that traversed his bronze helmet. In all, his features were typical of his people who lived near the source of the Tiber River. His name was Quintus Aemilianus, the third son of a large landholder.

I observed his mind and found that despite his outer bravado, he was pessimistic about his chances of living beyond the day. It was a rational assessment given the circumstances. He had accepted his fate, but as a proud Roman, he would go on fighting until the end. Death was preferable to slavery.

The slain, Quintus believed, would step from this brutal world to the next, where a ferryman would take them across the River Styx. Each of them would provide an account of their life to the three judges — Minos, Rhadamanthus, and Aeacus — who would decide if they were to go to the bliss of the Elysian Fields or to the torment of Tartarus. In the afterlife, they shall drink from the river of forgetfulness, so the memory of their earthly existence would be washed away.