The Fall of Veii- Part 1

by Francis Mulhern

  “Look at this” Scipio said as he stepped across numerous mangled bodies, the bolts still either in the men or having passed through them, their rich clothing and armour marking them as the nobility of the city, it looked as if the bolts had ripped through every noble in Ferentium by the number of richly clad men lying dead at his feet. Scipio pointed to two men joined together by a shaft of wood, the bolt having skewered them through the stomachs. The front man’s face was screwed in the agony of death but the man at the rear seemed to simply be asleep, his calm face a parody of the man attached to him by the bolt. Scipio laughed mirthlessly “looks like they were lovers and it was his first time” he said with a shake of his head at the pained expression on the front man’s face. “These things” he said, kicking the bolt that protruded from the men “are lethal” he said. Marcus looked at the death around him, and took a deep breath.

  “This space was ideal for them” he said pointing to a Scorpion bolt, his appraising eyes looking at the scene. “If they had more space we would not have hit them so hard. We were lucky to get the king in the first shot” he shrugged “and then the nobles simply stood like a chicken at a sacrifice waiting for the inevitable to happen.” He turned his head slowly around the scene as a scout appeared and reported to Narcius, his wide mouth starting to curl at the corners at whatever news he brought.

  “Narcius, detail some men to clear the bodies and line up any of the nobles in a separate pile, it would do us well to give them a decent funeral, and we don’t want the gods to be angry with us” Marcus said with a grim smile.

  Scipio glanced at Marcus as Narcius wandered across. “Camillus, sir. You have to see this” he said with a toothy grin which caused both Marcus and Scipio to frown at him as he turned and marched out of the blood-spattered city gates.

  ****

  The six Senators sat around the low table, sweetmeats and milk-soaked breads laid out on the surface in various dishes of silver, one with a gold effigy of Apollo emblazoned on the side.

  “It’s a question of taxation” Javenoli said as he stuffed a date into his mouth and chewed the soft fruit noisily. Spitting a seed into a bowl he continued. “The reserves are dangerously low despite the state’s share of the spoils from Bolae, our debts exceed our income and the city continues to grow. Without something to bolster the reserves we cannot spend any more money on the roads or bridges” he shrugged slightly as he reached for another date, his eyes quickly searching the other senators for signs of agreement.

  “More taxation though, Gaius” replied the bald-headed Cicurinus, a droplet of milk running down his chin as he wiped it away with a small cloth. “The people won’t like it” he said exhaling deeply with a shake of his head as he took a grape from one of the bowls and bit into it. “It will give the plebeians another thing to veto as well.”

  “Without additional income we cannot support the building programme” Javenoli added “unless one of you men has a better plan for gaining some quick income?” he asked. A silence fell as the faces of the men looked to one another and shook their heads.

  “Taxation or less war” replied Ahala, his lean face and light brown eyes looking at Javenoli with a smile. “It seems that one follows the other like a love-sick puppy” he added with a guarded expression.

  “But it’s a puppy we cannot feed” Javenoli replied with a thoughtful expression on his face.

  “War is inevitable Ahala, you know that. The Latin delta is full of cities and trumped up kings who want to take our lands now that we are growing stronger than they are. With every passing day, we grow closer to war with Veii maybe that will solve our crises?” asked the lined face of Atratinus, his face alert at the prospect. “A war with Veii may be useful, it would help with two of our problems at least” he added as he glanced to Ahala “assuming we won of course.”

  “We will win” Ahala almost growled as he looked through his dark eyes at Atratinus. “Veii has only one defence, its walls. If we can scale them, then she will fall” he added with certainty.

  “I doubt we can scale those walls, my friend” replied Senator Fidenas. “They are thirty feet high and ten feet thick. It would take all of the men in Rome to attack them and overwhelm them. I believe we need a new tactic to overcome Veii, storming the walls will not work” he said, his thinning hair oiled across his low forehead.

  “Good men will storm any wall” Ahala replied, his face set into a stern grimace.

  “I disagree” Fidenas said as he shifted on his couch to look directly at Ahala. “For twenty years we have had peace with Veii and in all that time they have built and rebuilt those walls. We do not have enough men to get over them” he shrugged “and the Etruscan alliance will surely come to their aide” he added with a small nod of his head. “The Capenates are spoiling for war” he said with a gleam in his eye as he looked to Ahala and smiled.

  “The Capenates are a bunch of old toothless women” Ahala laughed. “I fear my own mother-in-law more than I fear a thousand Capenates” he added to a ripple of laughter from the assembled men.

  After a short silence Javenoli coughed slightly, his hand moving to his lips as he did so. “Gentlemen, what have we decided with regard to the financial situation?” he asked, his eyes wide as he lowered his head to drink from a silver cup with a picture of Hector being slain by Achilles, the men stiff and crude in their poses.

  “Another war tax will be difficult to pass through the plebeian council, as I said” Ahala replied, his anger clear in his voice.

  “Why so?” Javenoli answered. “Surely they understand the issues at hand. Without the tax, we cannot afford to continue to fund the basic equipment for the Legions and to support the improvements we need in the roads.”

  “They see only what they want to see and they don’t trust those in charge of the funds” Atratinus added as he lay back on his thickly padded reclining couch, its soft blue cushions arranged to support his back. “We need a new tax” he said with a sense of finality “not another grain tax or bridge toll that we spend more money administering than we gain from collections.”

  “A tax on the poor would give us plenty of funds, there are enough of them in the streets” Javenoli replied with a shake of his head. “I agree Atratinus, a new tax, but what? And how do we find compromise with the plebeians?”

  Atratinus shook his head as he considered the problem. As he began to speak a booming knock came from the door, three loud bangs which made each head turn towards the doors as they swung inwards.

  A well-dressed female slave appeared, her woollen Chiton long and flowing with a thin cord belt around her middle and elaborately braided hair sitting on her shoulders, all of which suggested she must be a favourite of the master of the house.

  “Master, a messenger” she said, her face looking to the floor as she spoke, her eyes glancing quickly to her owner as her full lips curled.

  “Send him in” Ahala said quickly, a flush coming to his cheeks at the glance from the slave and the raised eyebrows from Atratinus, his smile showing an element of jealously.

  The slap of sandals on the floor announced the messenger, his dusty clothes and untidy hair telling of the long ride he had undertaken to return to Rome at his best speed. Bowing he searched for Ahala, the senior of the group and leader of the Senate. As he stepped forward and bowed he handed across a sealed and covered tablet, the brown leather clean and bright against the dust of his clothes as he removed it from the shoulder bag he had swung across his body.

  “Sir, news from Lucius Furius Medullinus. He asks for your time in attending to the matters in the message and I am asked to return with any orders at your command” the messenger announced as he stepped across and handed the leather-bound message to Ahala.

  Ahala sat up straight and took the message with a nod and a serious frown as the five men around him also sat straight and looked to him with fervent glances, their eyes greedy for the information he held. Ripping the seal and scanning the message Ahala’s eyes narrowed, his eyebrows
pinched and his lips curled two or three times before his face looked up at the men around the room.

  “Gentlemen, it is war. Veii has snubbed our ambassadors and ridiculed our city” He turned to the men around him with a gleam in his eye “it is time to make them pay for their insolence.”

  ****

  Marcus stood with his hands on his hips, a broad smile across his face as he watched the small convoy of men traipsing across the path through the ravine, the grinning face of Mella at the head of the small force.

  “What exactly is happening?” Scipio asked as he wandered across to Marcus and stood watching the procession of men and horses.

  “It seems Mella found a few fugitives from the city attempting to escape with quite a lot of treasures” Marcus smiled in reply, his eyes scanning the convoy coming towards them.

  “This has been a good campaign Marcus” Scipio said in a low voice with a rise in his eyebrows. “The senate will be pleased that you have retaken the town within the three weeks it set.” He considered Marcus for a long moment, the dark hair and muscular frame complemented by his good height and bright intelligent eyes. “My father says you should run for Censor. Now would be a good time.”

  Marcus turned to his friend, his warm face full of pride at the quick defeat of their enemies. He smiled. “Maybe” he replied as he placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder “but what use would I be in planning roads or bridges or even in administering the public morals” he laughed as he said the final word. “What do I know of such things?” he added.

  Scipio looked to his friend with a frown and a slight shake of his head before speaking. “You are perfect for the role” he said with true meaning. “You have a dignity born of your heritage as well as high moral standards from your training as the Camillus” he said with a grin, which Marcus returned. “And” he continued “the people will respect you because of your military record, your dignitas and your clear thinking. I would think that within your eighteen months in the role you would make a few changes to the administration of Rome which would benefit all of the people.” Marcus looked at his friend and smiled. Both men had spent many hours discussing the issues of Rome with Calvus; Scipio arguing for a strong paternalistic and military based state, but Calvus interested in forms of government and shared Republic which, he stated, were true to the original founders of Republican Rome in which they lived. Without a true and democratic Republic, Rome may as well appoint another king, he had argued. Marcus had been swayed by the arguments of both men, though his head told him that the more testing and difficult road was that described in Calvus’s argument. The words ‘all of the people’ also struck a note in Marcus’s mind as his thoughts went to the prophecy and the words ‘the Eagle will be a true servant of the people. He must be a patron of the people.’ Would the role of Censor help him to achieve his destiny? He looked to Scipio, his eyes bright as he spoke “You may be right, it is something I must consider when we return to Rome, which I wish to do as soon as possible. Detail a guard of three hundred men to hold the city, Virginius will command until the Senate decide on our next steps” and with this he strode forwards towards Mella who was less than a hundred paces from the entrance to the city.

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  Chapter 27

  Aquilinus looked at the document again, his bright eyes scanning the words and numbers quickly but efficiently. Everything looked in order and he smiled at the seal of Cicurinus before he placed the vellum in a leather holder and handed it to the slave who was standing waiting across the desk from him.

  “Take this to the Quaestor and have him deliver it” he said, his eyes already moving to the next wax tablet on his desk, the pile had grown in the past two days since the levy for the army to attack Veii had been given. He looked up as the slave exited the room, the ornate door closing slowly as the man disappeared. Aquilinus sat back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose, the headache was coming back again. He closed his eyes, screwing them tightly and then releasing them to stare at the wall ahead of him as his eyes focused on the small table which held two Greek vases, each covered in battle scenes from the siege of Troy. At this distance, he couldn’t make out the individual figures and he shook his head with a deep sigh. He cursed his father’s weak eyes and considered for a moment how the man had been almost blind before he reached his fortieth birthday. He had the same curse. Sighing deeply, Aquilinus rose from behind the desk and frowned at the pile of work awaiting his signature.

  “Wait” he called, rushing to the door as the chair behind him rocked on its legs at his sudden movement. “Salvator” he called to the slave who was donning his cloak by the main doorway. “I will take the details to the Quaestor myself” he added as he strode across and held out his hand for the leather pouch. “Fetch me two of the guards” he said as he gripped the leather and weighed it on his hands, his mind racing through how he could use the war against Veii to maximise his political career.

  Within a few minutes, Aquilinus and two thick-set bodyguards were turning past the temple of Saturnus, the lofty statue of Saturnius Mons looking down on his people behind six thick columns, each column ringed with flowers from the recent festival. Despite the early hour, the forum was busy with people doing their daily shopping or listening to oration and poems along the recesses of the old shops. Aquilinus smiled at the youthful faces listening to an old bearded man who was attempting to recite Homer, his high-pitched tone not doing any justice to the epic poem.

  “Aquilinus, over here”

  Glancing to his right he saw that Tribune Postumius had called his name and was waving to him from a sandal maker’s stall, his small retinue included his son and his wife, her thick stola a very light blue with a darker blue Palla over her shoulders and a small retinue of slaves and bodyguards. Postumius had turned out to be very well connected and was the current hero of the victory over Bolae and Aquilinus knew the man could be extremely useful to his career.

  “Tribune” he said as he strode across to Postumius, the bodyguards growling at the crowd to get out of their way as they did so. “My lady” he said, nodding at Postumius’s wife, “Sir” he said to his son as the young lad smiled nonchalantly back at him. “A fine day for meandering through the crowds” he said as he looked to Postumius and then to the sandals he held in his hand.

  “Gallus surely you have some better quality than this” Aquilinus said to the small dark-haired stall holder with a wink as he raised his eyebrows to Postumius. The small man grinned toothlessly and disappeared under the table, dragging a heavy sack into view and rummaging into the contents as Postumius smiled and placed a hand on Megellus’s shoulder.

  “Here master” said the stall holder as he held out two pairs of sandals, each cut in soft leather with thick soles, the leather ties holding the pairs together. “From Carthage” he said as he looked at the two men appraisingly, his mind working through what he could charge for them. “Goat leather, beaten six times to soften them and then the stitching is done by virgins under a candle to Juno.” He nodded firmly as Postumius took one of the pairs of sandals, his head nodding as he felt their weight and handed them to his son.

  “Master will grow into them and they will grace his feet making him fly like Apollo” the seller said as he tried to embellish the goods. Aquilinus glanced to Postumius and smiled before looking to the stall holder and saying, “one eighth of an As for both” at which the man, as expected, made a guttural sound as if he had been stung, his breath sucking deep between his clenched teeth. “I have five children to feed, Master” he said, his eyes flicking to Megellus and back to Aquilinus. “Quarter As for the two is the best I can do. No more or I won’t be feeding my poor babies tonight” he said as he shook his head and waved his hands theatrically, his eyes twinkling as he told the lie. Aquilinus half-laughed. He had made it his business to know most of the stall sellers as his role included handing out the licences for trading. Gallus was a good man and had more bas
tard children than Aquilinus could remember, his drinking habits and carousing were legendary amongst the stall holding community.

  Postumius glanced to Aquilinus, who seemed to be enjoying the bartering, something that Postumius didn’t understand, he was happy to pay the going rate, though these new sandals were definitely a better quality than the ones on the stall.

  “Tribune?” Aquilinus asked as he inclined his head to the stall holder “do you have a deal?” he added.

  “Yes” said Megellus firmly before Postumius could reply, a laugh coming to his father’s face as he fingered the soft leather of the sandals.

  “You grace me with your custom, Master” said Gallus as his face split into a wide grin, his black beard oiled into short curls making the yellow teeth appear unreal as he smiled at the men and held out his hand.

  “The boy knows his mind” Aquilinus said as Megellus paid the stall holder from his own purse and the small group left the stall, the ladies falling behind the men as they set off across the forum.

  “It is important for the youth to understand the value of money and to be able to converse with the plebs and traders” Postumius replied. “The city grows every year and without the essential skills of managing the people, he will never rise to command a legion as his forebears have done” Postumius said haughtily as Aquilinus feigned his brightest smile.

  “Very well put” Aquilinus agreed as he smiled to Megellus, who had his father’s stride, the chest lifted and eyes looking arrogantly at the crowds as they were jostled out of their way.

  “Are you out on official business?” Postumius asked as his eyes flicked to the leather pouch in Aquilinus’ hand.