The son's reply

Dear father,

You do me a great honor by writing such a heartfelt and sincere letter. I feel proud to have you as a sire, both for your concern and your wisdom.

But I cannot, in good faith, reply as a son, a Roman and a Legate. I can only reply as the one who has to do, simply because there is no one else.

You speak of me as Horatio. But I do not stand alone. I am but one, in an army of 40,000 Horatios.

You speak of my throwing away of Roman lives. I stand here, witnessing 40,000 soldiers, sons of Mars himself, that would rather fall on their swords than retreat.

You only see the 70,000 barbarians against an army half that size. Daunting odds for the greatest strategist.

But what you do not see is the difference between the 70,000 warriors they bring and the 40,000 soldiers I possess. They may each be stronger and more fierce than any of us. But while they fight alone, I fight with 119 more men watching my flanks and my back. While they rain blows upon us, we endure. While they yell their terrifying war cries, we endure. Even as men, brothers in all but name, fall to our left and our right, we endure. And when the enemy, tired of fighting, tired of killing, slows down, we attack.

Our weapons are not the fearsome axes and spears of the barbarian, but the shield of discipline and sword of righteousness. Our battle is not a plebeian physical brawl, but a choreographed movement for which we have trained for years. We measure each sword stroke, we expend each ounce of energy the most efficiently. We hold the Eagle high, we hold Rome in our hearts, but above all else father, we hold.

You spoke of Terminus and his love for boundaries. Let me tell you father. The boundary of Rome is that, which we will draw with blood and sweat upon the field of battle.

Our maniples will hold, our cavalary will flank and our auxillaries will rain death upon them even as they advance. And in the end, if our sacrifice and planning please the Gods, then the Eagle will soar.

The defenses are a long way from being complete and each day we gain them, is a Roman life saved. I have scoured my brains for all possible strategies father, and only the unsheathed sword remains as feasible.

So, father, Senator, Roman, I bid you goodbye. May Jupiter always smile upon your endeavors, as you wish he does upon my coming battle.

And if we are destined to never meet again, father, then all I ask of you is to remember me and my men. Give our voice to the Senate and the people that we do not do this for the glory of battle or the plunder of victory. We go to our deaths in the name of Rome. In their name.

Remember me father, as your ever dutiful son.

Fulvius Pious,
XIII Legion