This was true. The legions of Proculus outnumbered the Roman ones by factors of ten. Though he had only recently learned about gods and powers, Marius had not been so impressed by the gods Diana and Janus had introduced him to that he could see this sight and remain unconcerned.
“Numbers are not everything,” Janus said calmly. “Not when gods are involved.” His face darkened. “Though this usurper should not have come anywhere this close to the center of the Empire. It is a dark day, one that shall not be spoken of save for in whispers henceforth.”
Marius shut his mouth, holding back his fear. His horse whickered softly beneath him, and Marius responded to it. He brushed a gloved hand against the ear of the creature, letting the dried cow hide that enveloped his fingers run down the back of the horse’s neck. He meant to reassure his animal, but he found a strange amount of solace in the gesture for himself. He glanced at Janus and wondered if the man was soothing his emotions. Janus turned to look at him and shook his head.
War horns blew in the distance, filling the valley below. They were outside Rome, Hadrian’s Tomb at their backs. An impressive structure, Marius thought, and all the better to try and defend the city from within, at least to his mind. But instead they were out here, in the wide-open spaces beyond the city wall, with a small legion in front of them and a greater legion aligned against them.
The smell of the horse overcame the smell of the fires as the wind shifted directions and came from the west. There were others with them on the hill. Marius knew Diana, of course, who was wearing a white cloak to keep the hot midday sun off her skin. He knew Venus on sight as well, her skin covered but her comely face somewhat visible over the lacy shawl that was pulled up to cover her mouth. He had seen her a few times, and on every one of them had trouble remembering his own name while fighting an impossible battle to keep his eyes off of her. This time seemed easier, though her attentions were on the battle, her eyes not roaming as they had been in every other instance he’d seen her.
He knew one of the others as well. Jupiter.
Colossally built, his broad chest partially exposed, Jupiter sat upon a warhorse that dwarfed Marius’s. His long hair was platinum, not white, and his beard matched. His bronzed skin was still youthful, and Marius felt a quiver of fear just being in his presence. Jupiter watched the movement of the armies impassively, but his dark eyes danced about the place that was soon to be a battlefield, and Marius thought they looked hungry for blood and spectacle and were irritable in their absence.
“You see what I see,” Janus said with quiet assurance as he looked over. Marius nodded. Jupiter’s cruelty was close to the surface, obvious even to his eyes.
Jupiter’s wife was at his side, her gaze cooler than her husband’s in the way that winter was cooler than summer. She caught Marius’s eyes and held them for a moment, watching him. She nodded once then turned away to speak to the man next to her, a physically imposing fellow whom Marius recognized as Neptune. He carried a long spear with three points, and Marius wondered if anyone who saw him riding the streets of Rome would recognize it as the trident.
“So it begins,” Janus murmured, and a low hum fell over the gods on the hilltop. Marius paused his examination of their numbers and looked out to the battlefield again. The battle had indeed begun, and he could see the front ranks of the legions engaged with each other, falling blades catching the light of the midday sun, glaring. The Roman Legion was outmatched—it was evident even to Marius’s untrained eye. The usurper’s forces were pouring into the middle of their lines like a wedge pushing itself into a stump before splitting it.
So it ends, Marius thought, but he held his peace. He caught a glimmer of amusement from Janus and followed his mentor’s gaze just past him as a man on a horse clip-clopped up to come to a halt just beside him.
The man was large, like Jupiter. He had flaming red hair that flowed down his shoulders and a flat face with an unyielding nose that barely protruded from it. It looked as though it had been carved out of clay by a lazy sculptor who had cared little for giving the face depth. The eyes were shallow as well, and dark, and they rolled over Marius quickly and on to Janus.
“Janus,” the man said in acknowledgment.
“Ares,” Janus replied with a courteous nod.
The man called Ares sighed. “I do prefer that name, but all the same, perhaps it is best if you call me Mars now.”
Janus chuckled. “Have you met my ward? This is Marius. He is newly in my service.”
Mars with the flat face gave Marius another look. “He has little stomach for battle, Janus.”