For Rome

Yet Scipio insisted they were a threat. They threatened all of Rome, the heralds claimed. We needed to take pre-emptive measures to ensure the safety and prosperity of Rome. What cause could be more righteous? Maybe we do need to go to war. Maybe these people do need to die. Maybe we do need to kill... Maybe WE need to die...

Neither option made full sense. And both inspired horror.

As we marched on the city, baking in our armour, I could not stop thinking about how men were soon going to try to kill me. They would send flaming arrows through the air, pour boiling oil from the battlements and, if it came to it, fight me one-on-one with sword and spear, attempting to disembowel me with each desperate thrust.

And the sick thing is I did not blame them for wanting me dead. I understood their motivation, but in those moments, the moments in which I needed that great Roman courage, I could not bring myself to understand our own.

This is not our land.

This grass we tread is not for our livestock.





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