The Fall of Veii- Part 1

by Francis Mulhern

  Rufus had returned from the campaign to find his smallest child had succumbed to the sickness, dead before he returned home. Bassano looked at his friend and noticed the hollow look in his face. He turned to Tolero and shook his head with a flick of his eyes towards Rufus. Tolero nodded as he slid from his chair and stretched his back, groaning as he reached high above his head.

  “Well, they think it’s legal to take away our spoils after we put or lives on the line? We’ll see how legal it is when we turn up at the next Senate meeting and demand our money” he said as he glanced at Rufus and shook his head again. Placing a hand on his shoulder he nodded to Bassano and turned to leave the room.

  “I’ll get the lads together tomorrow and we’ll stage the first protest in the forum just after mid-day when the market is busier. A bit of disruption will do the patricians good. Lucius Decimus will take our case to them, and he has sworn to veto every motion they want to pass for the next few days until this matter is resolved” he added as he disappeared into the corridor.

  “Rufus” cajoled Bassano, nudging his friend gently. “I know the pain you are going through” he said, a grimace coming to his face. “I know my son was a soldier and not an innocent little lamb, but you must end your grieving and come back to your senses.” He knew the words were harsh, but he also knew his friend. A jolt would kick start him back on the path to helping the soldiers get what was rightly theirs. Rufus seemed not to hear. He sat, motionless, looking at the table without blinking. Bassano shook his head and stood, the chair scraping loudly on the thick tiles of the floor.

  “I’ll leave you then” he said with a frown. With no reply forthcoming, he strode from the room and closed the door behind him passing a slave who bowed and handed him his cloak.

  ****

  “Command?” Marcus said incredulously. “Me?”

  “Yes, you are raised to commander for this campaign though we cannot infer the title of Tribune officially as the two Tribunes are absent” replied the council, the candle to the god Mars flicking brightly as he stood staring at the three men sat across from him. “The Volsci have taken the town of Ferentium and by our reports we understand they have set up strong defences and the King of Ferentium has gone over to their side. With the agreement of the other two tribunes you have been given a force of twelve hundred men and three hundred horses to re-take the city.” The Senator picked up a heavy tablet and scanned the contents before continuing. “The Hernian ambassador will be here in an hour and will give you the full details of the city and its defences. The soldiers are being drafted as we speak, but you may choose your own officers as you see fit.” He scanned the list again, squinting at the letters as his eyesight was obviously fading. “What does that say?” he asked the man next to him, who smiled and held the tablet up to the light. “Three weeks rations and march within two days” he said with a warm smile at Marcus.

  Servilius Ahala was a well-respected patrician with strong family connections to the Furii clan and Marcus was sure that his father’s old friend had gained him this commission, his first in command for Rome. He nodded at the square jawed man, his large frame hidden under the many folds of a thick white toga with a thin red stripe. “Who do you think you will take as your officers Camillus?” asked Ahala, his eyes glinting as he spoke. Marcus had been summoned to the meeting only hours before and had been taken aback by the sudden promotion that the Senators were giving him. He nodded as his mind ran through the names he might include, Potitus and Scipio for certain, but he needed at least four more men, good men who would rise to the challenge that the short campaign would bring. As he named his two friends to Ahala the Senator nodded respectfully, but Marcus could see he had clearly given it some thought himself and so he decided to leave two names blank so that the Senator could suggest opportunities for his clients. “I believe Aulus Virginius is available and still in Rome, he has three seasons’ experience and will add greatly to the campaign” he added. “And Marcus Postumius Albinus Regillensis” he said as he leant his head to one side and added “I cannot think of others at the moment and would welcome any suggestions you worthy gentlemen may have.”

  Ahala beamed at Marcus, his shrewd eyes appraising him for a moment before he turned to his fellow Senators with raised eyebrows and then returned his gaze back to the new Military Tribune. “I suggest the first officer is Titus Elva” he said firmly, naming the great grandson of Rome’s first Consul after the fall of the Kings. “He will offer good advice as well as sound judgement of tactics, though I hear you hardly need that” Ahala added. “For the second I suggest Publius Licinius Calvus Esquilinus. The man is old and wise and served well as an officer in my command recently” he said, turning back to the Senators. “It will also get him out of the city and stop that fool Manlius traipsing around like his lap dog. With a few good campaigns under his belt it would be good to get the man to put himself forwards for Plebeian Tribune, if you understand my meaning, Camillus?”

  Marcus understood exactly what Ahala was asking and he wasn’t happy about it. Calvus was at the heart of many of the plebeian demands for improved social conditions in Rome and many of the Senate disliked him, seeing his clever plans as yet more erosion of their own power. Placing himself between the two sides could be dangerous. He had also heard that his old friend Manlius had become the voice of the plebeians and had reignited his own political career by helping to resolve the issue of the pestilence that had engulfed the city. The people were calling for Manlius to be voted to the Senate and he was being hailed as a great saviour by the poor, but he also knew that many thought the new-found power had gone to the man’s head, his Virtus had grown into arrogance Mella had said, something that Romans despised. Nodding to Ahala he said firmly “then it is agreed. If the orders are written I will get my man to take them immediately.”

  “One more thing Camillus” Ahala said before Marcus could leave. “You should know that we are sending a delegation to Veii tomorrow, led by your brother Lucius” he said, his tone flat as he scrutinised Marcus’s face. Seeing the question forming he continued “you are aware that for years now we have had peace with Veii. The augurs have completed a number of sacrifices and on my orders a delegation was submitted to read the Sibylline Books.” At this Marcus turned to fully face the three men, his attention wholly on Ahala. “The books state that we must visit the city of Veii and ask them a question. If the answer to the question is not as the books predict, then we will declare war upon them for their blatant infringements of the peace treaty we have held with them, as is our legal right. Before you return, Camillus, we may have declared war upon Veii.”

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  Chapter 20

  The long marching column snaked across the countryside behind him as Marcus sat on his large chestnut horse drinking from a water pouch. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand he passed the pouch to Scipio who took it gratefully. Marcus looked at his friend and smiled. The man had grown, his short brown, hair still cut in the military style, framed his intelligent eyes and broad nose. Turning, he watched the men stride past and nodded to the Centurions who saluted as they marched by their officers, the low cloud of dust turning their tunics a dusty grey as they marched relentlessly to aide their Hernian allies.

  The ambassador from Hernia had given Marcus a series of details explaining the layout of the town and the defences as he had seen them days before. Marcus had laid the defences out on a table using the wooden fort and soldiers he had been given by Gaius Javenoli some years earlier and discussed options and ideas with his six leading officers, all of them delighted at the opportunity of an early briefing on the attack to come. Marcus had found himself appraising the officers as they spoke, some clearly trying to impress him with their tactical knowledge and others silent as they tried to find their place within the group. The quietest of the new officers was Calvus, who seemed distracted and angry at his appointment. Indeed Calvus had spoken very little in the three
hours since the force had left Rome and seemed to be avoiding Marcus whenever he could.

  “Scipio, what do you make of Calvus?” he asked quietly as his friend stoppered the water pouch and handed it back across to him.

  “I guess he isn’t happy about being here” he replied candidly. “It seems he likes his own company and keeps himself to himself, though I have heard he is an able commander in the field and the men he commands respect him.” Scipio waved to a Centurion who saluted with great aplomb as he and his men walked past. “I get the sense that he has issues beyond this campaign to deal with Camillus” he continued. “From what I hear he was leading the legal challenge to the issue of Bolae for the men and I suspect he is very angry at being ordered out of Rome at a time when he was creating a good name for himself. Remember Marcus” he added, using his first name quietly to emphasise his point “he is a leading plebeian and has an axe to grind.”

  Marcus knew that the words spoken by Scipio were true. Calvus had been removed by the Senate for just the reasons he had speculated, to keep him out of the Bolae debate. Marcus wondered if the Senate were afraid of his logic and power with the people or simply wanted to remove him because he was an upstart and by removing the stone from their sandal they could walk more freely until another stone lodged in its place. He took a deep breath before turning to Scipio. “Another half hour and we will reach the ford by the village of Anitio. Let the men rest there” he commanded as he patted Scipio on the forearm and smiled to him. Nudging his horse forward he set off backwards towards Calvus, who had just appeared amidst the fog of dust from the marching men, his soldiers singing a bawdy song at which Calvus was smiling broadly.

  ****

  The forum jostled with people, an angry mob swollen by the ex-soldiers who had fought so well at Bolae. A burst of laughter came from a group of twenty men as a female slave dropped her basket and screamed as a man slapped her backside when she leant forwards to pick up the fruit she had been carrying. Across the flagstones by the steps to the shops another group called loudly for the Senate to repay the spoils they were owed, a great cheer coming from the other men mingling in the crowd nearby.

  “Where are the Senators?” called a voice.

  “Why are they denying our claims?” another shouted as he raised his arms above his head, throwing them down theatrically and shaking his drunken head. A scuffle by the Temple of Saturnus suddenly turned everyone’s attention to the far-left corner of the Forum, men striding out across the flagstones as the noise went from cheering and cajoling to angry shouts and the dull sound of men fighting in hand to hand combat.

  Manlius grinned, this was what he wanted, anarchy. The Senate would have to listen now that the people were taking matters into their own hands. That fool Postumius had avoided his demands to meet him and to challenge his actions against his brother, but now he would have to deal with the anger of the people. He took a hold of the back of a burly man’s tunic and, grunting, he yanked him back into the mob of men behind him, laughing as he did so.

  “Hold your fists Quintus” he called to the man’s angry features as he let go of the woollen cloth and grinned at his blood-spattered face. He was pushed from behind by the throng of newly arrived men, the braying anger rising to a cacophony of abuse as the two groups stared at each other. Manlius ignored the shoving and stood with his hands on his hips, his heart thumping in his chest as he attempted to calm his appearance.

  “Sergius” he called, pointing to the man surrounded by his bodyguards who was attempting to cross to the Comitium in the northwest corner of the Forum where the day’s meeting to discuss the issue of Bolae had been called by the plebeian tribunes Lucius Icilius and Lucius Decius.

  The bodyguards closed ranks, Sergius’ frightened face scanning the crowd to see who had called his name.

  “Here Sergius” called Manlius as the crowd dutifully parted to let him step forwards. “This act is illegal” he called to a great cheer from the men around him as a stone flew over his head and clattered into the armour of one of Sergius’ bodyguards, the man wincing at the pain as he fell to his knees.

  “Stop that” bellowed Manlius as he swivelled to face the angry mob behind him, “we will have a peaceful protest” he called as he grimaced at the mass of men pushing forwards towards their ex-prefect. “Sergius” he said again as he turned back to the man. “See the men who fought and saved your life at Bolae? See how angry they are? Would you consign them to a cold winter with no food, no warmth and see their children die?” he asked as he raised his arms and held the prefects gaze. “These men want what they deserve from the campaign, Sergius. That is all” he stated. One of Sergius’ bodyguards shoved the short stocky man two places to Manlius’s right in an attempt to clear the way to the Comitium. The soldier simply shrugged at the bodyguard, a full head taller than him and then swung a punch at the man, connecting squarely on his nose with a dull thud as the taller man stepped backwards attempting to duck from the swinging arm.

  “No!” said Manlius as he stepped into the space between the two men, the bodyguard stepping forwards with murder in his eyes. “Let them through. The people will judge you Spurius Sergius, as will the gods. Do your duty as a Roman citizen and support the men of Rome who die for our liberty” he shouted as the small knot of bodyguards pushed forwards, Sergius hidden in their midst as best he could. Blows rained on the bodyguards as Gatto pulled Manlius away from the growing tide of pushing men and grinned at him.

  “Good words” Gatto called over the noise as his face cracked into a grin. “Just like the old days” he added with a deep belly laugh as Manlius was swept along by the tide of men as it turned towards the Comitium, the open air public meeting space.

  ****

  Calvus had greeted Marcus with a friendly, yet guarded, smile. As they had discussed the soldiers and the march it had been clear that Calvus didn’t truly want to engage with Marcus in anything other than superfluous conversation and so Marcus had said his farewell and returned to the front of the column where Mella was discussing the Scorpions that Potitus had brought with them on the campaign.

  “How many do we have?” Marcus asked as he reined in alongside the two men, Scipio a few horse lengths ahead.

  “Thirty” replied Potitus “each with the new range finder I added after the attack on the baggage wagons.”

  “Excellent, and how many bolts?”

  “Each Scorpion has ten bolts to throw, though several have yet to have their iron tips put into place” he shrugged “we just didn’t have time to add them before we marched. The blacksmith has the design and is confident he can forge them within a few hours” he finished, his white teeth showing as he grinned at the thought of the weapons.

  “Good” Marcus responded, “I think we will need them” he added with a faraway look in his eyes. “It strikes me, Potitus, that we could make more use of weapons such as the Scorpions” he said “to thin down the enemy before we set the spears to them. If we can cause confusion in the ranks of the enemy phalanx and break them up we can send our maniples into the gaps and slice through them” he said with a wicked smile. Potitus and Mella looked at their commander, his steely gaze staring into the distance.

  “Thinking ahead, Camillus?” laughed Potitus as Scipio appeared next to them.

  “As usual” said Mella.

  “What?” Marcus replied as he looked at the three men smiling at him. “I was just saying, that’s all” he said with a grin.

  “You are right” Scipio said. “The phalanx has a particular strength, but its weakness is that once the tight formation is broken it is easy to rip through the heart of it. The spears are unwieldy and can obstruct the men around them if the formation is lost” he added “and the men don’t train as well with their swords, relying on the strength of numbers in the phalanx to do their job”.

  “But here” Mella waved a hand “we will not face an army, we will face the walls of a city” he said with a shrug as he looked at Scipio “not a phalanx.”
<
br />   “True” replied Marcus. “I cannot think of any siege that has ever been more than a waste of time for Rome. In fact,” he added as he looked at the faces of the three men watching him “I cannot remember any siege that Rome has ever been involved in ending favourably except for the siege at Bolae” he added glumly. “How did Postumius get those gates open?”

  “Trickery” said Mella before any of the others could reply.

  “What?”

  “Trickery” he repeated. “He had spies in the city before the attacks and he had them open the gates, simple as that” he said with a perfunctory shrug.

  “Well, we don’t have that luxury so we need to think of other ways to get inside without throwing all the men at the walls and hoping for the gods to be on our side” Potitus said.

  As the men fell into a silence Marcus’s mind went through the options the officers had discussed before they left Rome. Each officer had moved the blocks of soldiers and placed them in various positions around the City, unsure where the defences were stronger and arguing their own idea for attack. Marcus had listened but said nothing, praising some thoughts and questioning others. He had taken to the new leadership he had had thrust upon him with energy and confidence, his thoughts running through the prophecy he had heard the old soothsayer Antonicus say to him those many years before and wondering if the words were finally coming true. He found himself instinctively reaching for the wooden Eagle he wore around his neck as he shifted on his horse and looked back at his friend Potitus.