Anthony Barnhart - The Sons of Mars.pdf

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The Sons of Mars
An Epic Tale of Ancient Rome
Anthony Barnhart
The Sons of Mars
2
Anthony Barnhart
The Sons of Mars
3
Prologue
The scent of salt burnt in his nose, and he could almost feel the spray of the ocean
against his skin. He closed his eyes, let it sink in; felt the cool sea breeze, the
gentle breath of the sun upon his face. For a moment he forgot the armor upon his
back, arms and legs; for a moment he did not remember the shield bracing his
body, held in his left hand; he did not notice the clutch of javelins on his breast,
shifting with each breath; and he did not heed any thought to the thrusting sword
upon his right side. He closed his eyes and imagined his arms were free, and he
wore nothing but a light tunic; he smelt the salt and felt the breeze, and
remembered a better time. Walking down the sandy shores, his small hand in his
father’s, laughing as the seagulls spun in acrobatic dances overhead. His father
and he had built a sand fortress and used short sticks to play war; he had been the
Romans and his father had been the Gauls, and their sticks had gone together in
fierce battles. The Romans always won. Now he knew the Romans did not always
win; war was not based upon mere manpower alone, but also on the strength and
skills, the talent and experience, of the Army. It was based on moral and strategy.
And a great portion went out to the hand of chance. But back then, the victory
always belonged to the Romans, simply because the Romans were always the
victors. His father had rubbed his scraggly sandy-blonde hair, picked him up on
his shoulders, and ran through the surf. He would raise his hands and look down
at the water churning beneath and imagine he was one of those seagulls,
completely free and unfettered, with the entire world a possible destination. He
would smile and laugh and his father would dive into the waters, and they would
tumble about. Those times were long gone; his father had gone back to the earth
many years before. But now that young child stood again upon the beach; he
heard the waves and the seagulls, smelt the ocean and felt the tingling of the
morning sun.
His eyes opened. Everything came back to him again, so real. The sword upon
his side, the shield before him, the javelins whose spear-tips glinted in the sun. He
could feel the thousands of soldiers behind him, all wondering the same thing: will
we breathe another day ? He ached and longed for the good old days, when he did
not worry about such things as death – he did not fear death, but knew that most
of the men behind him were not men at all, but boys: sixteen and seventeen and
eighteen years old, called upon by their native land to defend the gates of the city.
Anthony Barnhart
The Sons of Mars
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He knew many innocent boys would die this day; but he was determined that the
enemy would suffer the same fate.
The hundreds of feet of rocky shoreline before them lay veiled in a mist of
towering spikes sticking out of the ground and string wrapped between the spikes
to trip up the enemy. Great masses of twisted wood had been thrown amongst the
rocks to hinder the enemy’s advance. The shore was silent. A few birds picked at
crabs between the rocks, then flapped their wings and vanished towards the
clouds. The man watched them go, then turned around, stepped back a few paces,
and looked into thousands of pairs of eyes. The great walls of the city were barely
visible in the distance, where women and children huddled together, praying to
the gods for salvation, keeping their husbands, sons, brothers and boyfriends in
their minds. Many women and children would weep for lost family this night, but
nothing could be done about that. He looked over the thousands of soldiers and
spoke loud, voice rising with the sea waves against his back, carrying his words
over the ranks:
Friends of Rome! This will be a terrible day; not only for the Carthaginians, but
for us as well! Do not be deceived: many shall die this day. Death comes to us all.
What decides whether we are men or not is how we meet that death. We shall not
fear death; we shall embrace it. We shall kiss it. We shall smile as we fall! Many
of you will not walk back to your friends and families, but the stories of your
valor and strength will! You who survive will be heroes; you who fall will be
legends! Look forward! Grit your teeth! Take up your sword and shield!
Remember who you are: Romans! And even more: you are the sons of Mars!”
Horrendous, thundering cheering washed over the ranks; the man turned, faced
forward, face aglow with an unhindered lightning. Far across the breaking waters,
spreading over the horizon, were hundreds – thousands – of slender enemy ships,
heading straight for the shoreline. Each ship was loaded with a hundred soldiers
or more. He felt the breeze and wished for better days, but knew they would not
come. Not today. For today, many would die.
Anthony Barnhart
The Sons of Mars
5
Book One
The Sword of
Rome
Anthony Barnhart

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