Postumius looked to Ambustus and Sergius. “Do you have any remarks, gentlemen, before I make my decision?” he asked.
Both men mumbled a negative reply as Postumius moved forwards on his seat. “A good argument Furius” he said, his hands clasping together in front of him as his elbows rested on the table. “I have checked the bonds as I feared the same as you” he said with a growing smile at the corners of his mouth, his eyes darting from left to right as he spoke. “And I concluded that the distance was achievable if the men turned to face each other, the bonds were not as tight as they should have been. Another failing of the guards” he said dismissively, his eyes narrowing to focus on Marcus as he spoke. Marcus put his best stoic face forward despite the fact that he knew Postumius was wrong. “It’s a shame the bodies have been moved or we could have re-checked them” he said as he turned his head to look at Rufus. Marcus seethed inside, he had been outmanoeuvred by Postumius, who, as the senior officer, would out-rank his opinion of the positions of the bodies. “And I agree with your comments regarding the guards and the law” he said, sitting back and steepling his fingers as he leant back into the frame of the chair. “It does suggest that an equal number of guards face the same fate as the condemned prisoners, but that is also at the discretion of the Legion’s Tribune” he added as he looked at Marcus over the top of his soft hands. “Therefore, in the interests of” he looked up at the ceiling of the tent before speaking again “compromise, I state that Appius Bassano and one guard will suffer the punishment. Two lives instead of five” he stated as his lip curled. Ambustus shook his head but kept quiet, in no position to argue with the camp commander who held imperio, total power, in this situation. Marcus took a deep breath, turning to Rufus who was staring with a look of horror at Postumius, before returning his eyes to the top of the table. “Commander, I beg a reprieve for Appius Bassano, the man was not at the prisoner’s gaol and did not, in my view, take any part in whatever happened” he asked, his eyes growing large as he spoke.
Postumius’s face remained impassive as he looked to Sergius. “Write the decision Sergius” he said “Appius Bassano and one other man, drawn by lots, will die by their own hands as punishment for their failure of duty. By the power vested in me as commander of Rome’s Legion I state this, in front of Justitia, Mars war-bringer and the representatives of the state and soldiers” he said as Sergius smiled and began to scribble the command in the tablet he had placed on the table earlier. Marcus was about to speak when Rufus pulled gently on his arm and shook his head mouthing the word ‘no’ before he could speak. Marcus stared at his friend incredulously, his eyes flicking to Ambustus, who could not look him in the face, before he twisted in his chair and sat erect, his chest heaving as he bit back the anger he felt.
“And Aulus Manlius?” Rufus said. “The fine is acceptable but to flog a patrician?” he shook his head, a deep frown coming to his face as every head turned to look at Postumius.
“Gentlemen” started Postumius as he let out a long sigh. “Manlius must face punishment” he said, his eyes looking at the candle as it continued to flicker, the yellow flame jumping slightly as he spoke. Postumius leant forwards and picked up his sword. “The scales have been tipped” he said “see” as he pointed to the bronze scales sat next to the candle. “The balance of life has been changed, only one guard and Bassano will die and not five men as the goddess expected. The goddess will be pleased that justice has prevailed for the men of Rome” he said, his voice sounding superior as he continued to stare at the candle. “But punishment” he said, quickly rasping the sword out of its ornate scabbard and slamming it back forcefully as he looked up, his trance-like eyes staring at nothing in particular. “Punishment is needed to balance the scales. The gods would have it no other way, you must know that with all your training Camillus” he said, almost spitting the last word. He sat slowly back in his seat as the officers simply stared at him in silence.
“The man must face punishment” he said, his voice drifting as he lowered his head whilst he spoke.
“But, sir” said Marcus breaking the silence before Postumius raised a hand and scowled once again at Marcus, his face creasing into a grimace.
“Marcus Furius” he said with a shake of his head. “You saved my life once” he added as he cocked his head to one side and seemed to look straight through Marcus, his stare unnerving Marcus as Postumius sat silently as if considering him for the first time. With a sudden jerk Postumius sat straight and stared at his camp prefect. “Sergius” he said “add this to the records.” He turned to Marcus, who suddenly felt as if he had been played into a corner, the words Nulla Spes coming back to his mind.
“Aulus Manlius will receive ten lashes not twenty. Another compromise” he said. “But” his voice rose as a mad glint came to his eye and he smiled at Marcus “Furius is correct. A patrician cannot be flogged by a soldier. A patrician can only be flogged by another patrician.” Marcus gasped as Postumius glanced to him, his lips opening to a broad smile, his teeth glinting yellow in the candlelight, as Marcus felt a sudden dread come over him.
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Chapter 11
Manlius stood next to the old stone lion, its mane worn by thousands of hands who had rubbed its long locks as it was said to give those who touched it bravery in difficult circumstances. It was also said that the bones of Faustulus were placed under the lion and it was a lucky place to meet relatives. Manlius didn’t believe any of these old wives tales, and looked at the rough carving of the beast, its blank eyes and thick legs a testament to the talent of the sculptor. He frowned as he walked to the side of the statue, his focus taken up with his criticism for the sculpture when behind him a commotion in the forum caused him to turn.
The forum was busy, as it usually was at this time of the afternoon, the heat of the day creating a fog of dust in the open space as people milled to and fro. Around the outside of the forum there were sellers of baskets, fruit, vases and the usual troupes of players all attempting to barter for the coins or wares of the passer-by. Yet at the far end a cry had gone up and Manlius stepped forwards, his sandals kicking up a small cloud of dust as he set off in the direction of the noise. A mini swarm of gnats, their buzzing causing him to instinctively flinch, seemed to follow him as people started to move away from whatever the commotion was, one woman and her slave fleeing past him with a look of terror on their faces. Manlius smiled, swatting at the flies which seemed to be worse than ever today, as he came close to the source of the fuss.
Gatto, his newly shaved face, appeared at Manlius’s side and nodded, a curl on his lips.
“Looks like another victim of the plague” he said so loudly that a handful of the closest watchers turned in his direction. “That’s the fifth I’ve seen today and the Consuls are doing nothing about it. That man” he said theatrically, pointing to the wasted body of a man, which to anyone with any sense would know had been dead for days. “He was here yesterday and said he had a cough, look at him now.” Gatto’s voice resonated around the silent space as his eyes glanced at Manlius, who nodded his reply. “The plebeian council told the magistrates about this” he added, his face a picture of anger “but they did nothing. There are too many migrants coming to the City, they are bringing this plague” he added pointing again at the lifeless body slumped against the wall next to the new shops.
People started to leave, first a slow trickle and then all at once they left in droves, some running, some walking, but every one of them held their tunics over their mouths. Plague, it was almost as feared as fire in Rome. For the last few years they had been lucky to have no pestilence or plague, but now it seemed it might be back. Many more in the crowd gasped and covered their mouths as they scuttled back to their homes.
The sturdier men stood and looked at Gatto, his features creased into an angry glare. “What can we do brother?” came a voice from the remaining crowd. Gatto’s eyes smiled but his face remained stoic.
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“Here is a man who will know what to do” he said turning “Marcus Manlius, you were an officer in the legions, you must know what to do, sir?” he asked, his voice almost pleading. Manlius smiled, Gatto had played his part well and the men around them shuffled closer.
“Tell us Manlius” came a voice from one of the men, his eyes fearful.
“Have the gods forsaken us?” came another cry from back in the crowd of men.
Manlius grinned as he saw more men walking across the forum to see what was happening. “No, the gods have not forsaken us, they are merely showing us their displeasure. It’s a sign brothers” he said, turning to the small crowd. “The Senate needs to do something about the disease and death in our streets. The gods are telling us that they are not happy with the magistrates. They are not happy that Rome is so crowded, that so many people beg on the streets and so much filth spoils our great city” he said to a chorus of agreement from the, now growing, crowd.
He waved to Gatto “Will you find some strong men to take this body and any others and burn them?” he asked “and I Marcus Manlius will go to the Senate myself and ask them for action. We need strong men, men of action not men of words” he chided, his chest expanding as he spoke. “I will be the people’s voice as you seem to demand of me. You” he waved his arm out over the heads of the crowd “to the patricians. They must listen to us” he called. “But” he said, raising his arms and turning in a slow circle so that he could see each face in the crowd “you must follow me, men of Rome. You must stand proud and challenge the magistrates to do your bidding. They have money in the treasury, they can close the gates and clean up the city. Together we can make the gods proud of Rome again. And today there is a meeting at the Temple of Jupiter, we can go there now and challenge them” he added as a great cheer rang out.
Gatto winked at him as he grabbed two men, both of whom Manlius had seen with him earlier, and gripped the dead body as the crowd, now swollen to over fifty men started to walk to the Capitoline Hill where the temple stood. Gatto, with his insider knowledge from Javenoli had given Manlius this plan and as he walked, the crowd growing behind him, he saw Calvus, standing away to his left, smiling and joining the crowd as he had planned. In his mind Manlius spoke to his dead father ‘see father, now your boy is a man now and he has a road to power that you never had’ and his grin broadened as he felt men slapping him on the shoulder and cheering his name.
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“People of Rome” called the Senator from the steps of the temple as the crowd shouted abuse at the white clad leaders of the Republic, many of whom had slipped out of the rear entrance as they saw the crowd approaching, but the remaining gathering of the leaders of the City stood at the top of the steps looking down on the crowd. “We must observe the rules, the laws” he shouted, his voice drowned by a chorus of booing and swearing.
“The law made by patricians” called a few voices.
“It’s a plague sent by the gods” called others. “What will you do about it?” shouted a man to Manlius’s left, his face soaked in a wet sheen from the humidity of the day and the stale smell of sweat rising from his body. Manlius turned his head away and took a deep breath.
“We must consult the gods, an augury” called the Senator, his thin frame and grey hair testament to his fitness despite his years. Manlius knew Fidenas well, the man had been tribune some years previously, but he was a staunch hater of improved plebeian rights and had spent many years building a fortune by buying good land around the Roman hills and then calling in debts when his clients, those plebeians he had rented land to, had struggled to pay their dues.
The crowd shouted abuse at the call for an augury, some voices calling for actions, not more words and others shouting for a bull to be slaughtered to appease the gods. Manlius smiled inwardly and turned at a movement to his right to see Calvus stepping forwards. What was the man doing? With a start he realised that Calvus was suddenly placing himself between the crowd and the Senators and he jerked into action, calling for quiet before Calvus could get a chance to speak, he needed to regain the initiative, or he would lose it to Calvus.
“Men of Rome, let me speak” he called, repeating the shout as the men around him turned to him and others stopped shouting abuse at Fidenas at this new turn of events. With a glance to Calvus he stepped forwards, his feet on the second step of the temple before he half-turned to the crowd, the Senator frowned at this action although Manlius had been careful not to turn his back fully on the Senators standing above him.
Manlius looked at the faces of the men below him, all turned to him as he smiled at them, the crowd now numbering at least a hundred. “Senators” he said, turning to the toga clad elite, who all frowned at him, some shaking their heads at the audacity of a ‘nobody’ a man with a poor lineage, addressing them in this way. “The people of Rome need action, not words. Have you not seen the dead on your doorstep?” he asked, seeing a few of the Senators nod and turn to their friends with a cautious look. Gatto had furnished him with enough information to know that the Senate were discussing the pestilence and what they should do about it on this very day and so he had sacrificed a chicken to Juno and prayed that today his plan would be kick-started into action. So far it had gone as he had expected.
“We are one Republic and we have the same problems” said Manlius to a few angry snorts from the patricians and a few cheers from the plebeians. “And we live together in this great city. Death is at our doors, all of our doors gentlemen” he added, his arms raised from his sides. “The gods are not happy” he said, his head bowed as he spoke, many of the men below him nodding agreement, some clasping talisman’s on chains around their necks as their heads bowed too. “We must have an augury to find out the cause of the plague. But” he held up his hands to a few dissenters in the crowd. “We need immediate action as well or the plague will spread and more people will die, your brothers, your sisters and your children” he added theatrically as he stared into the sky so as not to place the evil eye on anyone in the crowd, who now stood silently watching and listening to Manlius.
“Your plebeian council members are here today” he continued with a wave to Calvus, who scowled at him in reply “and I am sure they will support our leaders” he added with a turn to Fidenas “in all actions we agree today. I, Marcus Manlius will represent you at the augury if you wish it” he finished, stepping down into the crowd to a great cheer from the men, many of who gripped his arms and thanked him loudly.
A short silence fell on the crowd as everyone turned to Calvus, whose face was a picture of measured calm but Manlius could see that inside he was coiled like a spring, played into the scene well by Manlius’s words.
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Chapter 12
The legion lined up outside the walls of Bolae, the tall structure looking down on the lines of men standing in marching gear, sweat starting to trickle down their faces as the heat of the end of the day built to its most ferocious. Each group of men had dismantled their tents, packed their equipment and sent parties to fill in the latrine ditches as well as collect water for the march. Since Postumius had announced the decision, the army had gone about its business efficiently with only a few dissenting voices, many of whom had finally been shouted into silence by their Centurions.
Marcus had spent some time with Bassano discussing his son Appius’s effects and what he wanted to do with them before Bassano had, himself, visited his son to say a final goodbye. Now the legion was lined up to watch the final acts of the sorrowful situation play out and Marcus was stood in the centre of the makeshift parade ground as Postumius stood on his mounting block rostrum and turned to the soldiers, all standing to attention and staring at him with looks of hatred.
“Bring the prisoners forward” called Postumius as the five men, Appius Bassano and four guards, were marched to the centre of the space, their brown tunics spotless as they had been cleaned up at their commander’s requirement
. Each of the guards held his head low, but Appius stood tall, his chin in the air as he marched forwards, his hands tied to the man in front of him by thin leather thongs. As the men came to a standstill Appius was cut free from the remaining men and moved two paces to the left where he was gently pushed to the ground, landing heavily on his knees. He stared at Postumius with a look of loathing, but he kept his head high.
“You men” called Postumius. “Failed in your duty. But I, as commander of this legion, have given you a reprieve” he said. “A chance for three of you to remain alive and live to fight for Rome another day.” Postumius was pleased with these words. He had spent some time working through his speech, hoping to make it memorable to the crowd of soldiers so that they would see the clemency of his actions. He half smiled to himself before continuing.
“Sergius” he called as his camp prefect stepped forwards holding a leather bag.
“In this bag are four stones. One of them is black the others are white. The man who chooses the black stone will suffer the penalty” he stated formally.
“Cut their bonds” he commanded as the guard’s hands were cut free, most of them rubbing their wrists and stretching fingers that had been unable to move for the past few hours.
Sergius looked to his commander, who nodded.
“Step forwards” he called to the first man, who looked to his left at the other prisoners and shook his head with a deep sigh before stepping forward and, with a glance at Sergius, reached into the bag. For a second he rummaged around, his face creasing as he tried to discern which stone to choose, a look of terror coming to his eyes, at which Postumius grinned and stared more closely at his face. His legs were shaking as he pulled a stone from the bag, a sudden look of relief flashing across his face as he fell to his knees and looked to the sky with a moan holding a white stone clutched tightly in his hand.
The Fall of Veii- Part 1 Page 8
