by C K Ruppelt
Caesar’s hand tightened in shock. The Civic Crown was rarely awarded, and only for saving Roman citizen’s lives. A wreath of oak leaves to be worn at any Roman public gathering, it also gave him automatic access to all senate meetings. Not to mention the senators would be law-bound to applaud him on entry. His lips relaxed into a satisfied smile. The soldiers’ euphoric mood was infectious. Everywhere Caesar looked, he saw joking, smiling and laughing. Now that the fighting was over, everybody guessed about their portion of the pillage. As was tradition, all belongings found in the city went to a common stockpile. After the sale of the goods everybody would get a fair share, thanks to the cohort prefects, centurions and optios. When it came to spoils, hundreds of years of experience had taught the army to be fair to its legionaries to avoid mutinies.
***
The Roman front line separated as the soldiers scrambled up the Greek barricades to fight the defenders man to man. Demotimos fought off one opponent when he saw another coming at him from the corner of his eyes. He had no time to react, feeling the legionary’s sword hit him on the side of his head. Falling backward, he slid down to street level before pushing himself off the ground. Many dead or wounded defenders lay all around him. “Run! It’s all over!” one man screamed at him on his way past. Demotimos began to walk, frequently glancing behind him. In a wave, the whole defensive line broke and the few surviving townsmen started to run away from the pursuing legionaries. He shook his head to clear it, spraying blood all over, and started to hurry down the street. He unstrapped his helmet to pull it off his head; the pain nearly made him faint. He studied the inside of the dented and bloody piece of bronze in his hands, discovering a big open cut that had part of his scalp and pieces of his skull stuck to it. He dropped it to work on discarding his shield next, before moving on to the straps of his armor. He turned left, off the main thoroughfare, and stopped to take a breath. He touched the side of his head and felt a stream of blood. He feverishly opened the last leather straps to drop the heavy plate armor. Now light headed, he started to move again, settling for a slow jog over a full sprint, willing himself to last.
All I want is to see my family one last time. They had discussed what they would do if the Romans captured the city. The plan had been to accept slavery and make the best of what lot the gods would give them. His wife had given him her blessing to remarry if circumstances allowed, and he had given his to her. Though that was meaningless now.
I know I will be dead soon, at most I’ll have a few more minutes. He wiped the tears from his face. He was so close, just two more streets. He kept moving one foot in front of the other.
***
As Caesar walked the streets with a group of his veterans, they came across many buildings with their previous belongings collected in the street and a large letter V painted above the front doors. The V was indication the house was vacuus, meaning emptied. Some of the former inhabitants had died in the fighting, others had already been led away. Caesar and his men arrived at a larger, official looking building, realizing it was yet untouched. They all drew their swords before going inside.
His group found workers hiding in the upper levels, who were led out to join the other captives already outside the city. He figured the slave traders, never far from Roman legions, would take over transporting them as soon as the tallies were completed, and their contracts signed. As he led his men through the bigger offices on the ground level, they found many valuables next to dead magistrates, often with their deceased families around them. Maybe, the higher the social status, the worse the fear of the unknown horrors? Though he theoretically understood that despair and the uncertainty of a future as slaves drove these people, seeing the resulting suicides shocked him to the core. He couldn’t wait to get out of this godsforsaken place.
676 AUC (78 BC), late fall
Rome, Italia, Capital of the Roman Republic
More than three years after his experience at Mytilene, Caesar walked up the familiar street to the front door of his uncle Gaius Aurelius Cotta’s townhouse and knocked. A familiar old face opened the door for him.
“Master Caesar, it is good to see you again,” the servant greeted him with a warm smile.
“It is good to be back,” he replied with a nod and a smile of his own. He stepped to the side to allow the hired helper carrying his travel trunk to enter. “On the vestibule floor is fine for now.” Caesar had to shift various bags and scrolls in his arms to reach his purse. “Thanks for your help, here is your money.”
He stepped from the vestibule into the open atrium and heard a loud scream. He looked up to see Cornelia running to the stairs from a small guest room off the atrium’s upper balcony. She must have heard him arrive. My sweet Cornelia!
His heart skipped a beat. He had dreamed about this reunion for nearly four years. His wife jumped the last few stair steps and threw herself into his arms. He needed to drop everything in order to catch her.
“I missed you so much,” she whispered. They held tight to each other as if to never let go again.
“I missed you more,” Caesar replied. He could not look away from her. Somehow, she was even more beautiful than he had remembered in his dreams.
“I was so afraid you would die in Lucullus’ campaign, or some of the unrests after. I am so happy you are finally back!” She said, turning her head to the house slave that had opened the door earlier. “Please fetch Aurelia, quickly!”
Two more servants arrived to collect his belongings off the floor as he led his wife to the benches around the atrium’s pool. “The maple trees have grown tall,” he commented before he looked up to see Aurelia running at him.
“My son, my son!” Still breathless from her rush, she gave him a tight squeeze. “How often I prayed to have you home again, safe and sound.” She noticed the servants behind the two holding his belongings. “Let’s get your things put away in your room, we can talk there.”
He held hands with Cornelia while his mother led the way to his wife’s bedroom, now to be both of theirs. He had his few loose things dropped on the bed and directed the other servant to put the trunk down in a corner. Once the three were alone, he sat down on the bed next to his wife and put his arm around her. His mother took the only chair in the room and sat down in front of the couple. “You must have so much to tell us. You never went into much detail in your letters. I am just glad that you came home so soon after Sulla’s death.”
“The only time I was close to real fighting was in Mytilene, and that campaign turned out to be quite memorable for me.” Caesar walked over to the trunk and opened it. “I had to change out the leaves a few times since I received this.” He pulled out his Civic Crown and put it on his head. Both women gasped.
“Are those oak leaves? Is that a Civic Crown?” his wife asked.
“And It is truly yours?” his mother added with wide eyes.
“Yes, yes, and yes,” Caesar answered, presenting his boyish grin of old. “Mytilene was nothing at all like I imagined. Every boy dreams of being in big battles, thinking it’s all glorious, that our soldiers always prevail like some mythical Greek heroes. But when you are there in person, it is different, and not for the better. All the dying, friend and foe alike—the messiness of it, the screams, the blood, the smells. Nothing prepares you for the smells.” He felt a frown form as unbidden visions filled his memory. After a moment, his eyes cleared, and he felt his smile creeping back. “The good part is that I learned how to lead men into battle while keeping my wits about me.” His mother’s scrunched face showed him her worry. “I mean to keep going with the Cursus Honorum, but don’t worry, I’ll stay home for a while. For now, I want to work as a lawyer in Rome. You wouldn’t believe the kind of atrocities I uncovered while working for Thermus. Some of the previous Roman governors in Greece and Asia need to be held accountable, and I hope to make a name for myself by prosecuting the worst of them.”
His eyes narrowed. “And I have a mind to go after some of the worst of Sulla’s henchm
en while I’m at it”—he hugged Cornelia—”but for now, I’d like a bath, a dinner and this bed. In that order.” They all laughed in relief.
***
The next morning, he found his mother sitting on a small bench in the kitchen amidst the servants of the house. “Good morning, mother. Where is uncle Gaius Aurelius? I can’t seem to find him. Did he leave for the Senate already?”
“Yes, my brothers are meeting early these days to strategize about next year and brother Marcus’ praetor post. You don’t know yet that he was elected. The three have made interesting alliances lately.”
“Really? What kind of allies are we talking about?”
“The most important one is Crassus. He offered to finance all their election campaigns for years to come.”
“Crassus? As in Marcus Licinius Crassus?” He saw his mother nod. Unbelievable.
He shook his head. “You can’t mean the man who swooped in to help Sulla come back to Rome, and then made incredible riches by working the proscription list? The same Crassus that bought half of Rome for cheap at the auctions?”
The success story of Crassus was well known all over Rome, and even Caesar had heard many updates in Greece. Just after the proscriptions had been in full swing, the man had bought slaves skilled in construction. After he had his first team of five hundred, he bought burned out buildings across the city, and later adjacent properties as well, rebuilding or renovating to resell for huge gains. Lately, the man concentrated on growing his business of slave trading. Using Sulla’s contacts in the east had made him a favored source of slaves for many of the senatorial enterprises.
“I know you don’t think highly of the man, but please hold your judgment until you meet him. He was here for dinner a couple of months back, when we had a long conversation about his upbringing and his role with Sulla. I didn’t know that his parents had been rather poor, or that they had shared a small house with both his older brothers and their families. I knew he was related to many former praetors and consuls, so the apparent lack of money surprised me.
“You must realize that his brother, his father, and many of his close friends were proscribed and killed by Marius, forcing Crassus to flee to Hispania where he hid in a cave, close to the sea, to keep his whereabouts as secret as possible. Can you imagine living in a cave? He raised his own army after he heard of poor Cinna’s death at the hands of his own mutinying troops.” She paused to thank a servant for bringing her a loaf of fresh bread. “You know most of what happened after. Crassus is not quite what you think, he is an interesting oxymoron. Charming, well educated, he holds no grudges, and is a great public speaker. He’s always willing to help others, yet is also quite boastful and easily flattered. Then, there is also this boundless ambition and greed. I think that overrides all his other considerations.” She took a breath. “I believe that if you can deal with that greed as a constant, he could make a good and predictable ally.”
“I will think about it, mother,” Caesar stated before walking off deep in thought.
***
A few weeks later, Caesar, Cornelia, and Aurelia walked down a bustling city street in the Subura, buffered by a group of servants. Cornelia walked between mother and son, arms linked all around.
“It’s in the neighborhood of our old home, Gaius,” Aurelia told Caesar, watching one of their servants shooing away a beggar by waving his cudgel.
“But the Subura, Aurelia?” Cornelia asked. “I heard of a few surviving old pockets of nicer houses, but it’s certainly not a posh address these days.”
“I know, Cornelia, but remember we don’t have much money. Please look at the house first before you make up your mind. It’s supposed to be in good shape, with no repairs needed for a while.” She sighed. “My savings are meager, and you two have nothing to contribute. I assume that the lawyering will pay off in the long run, but it’s not helping now, and I didn’t want to ask my brothers for more charity. Not after all they’ve already done for us.” She looked back at her son.
“Speaking of money, have you met with Marcus Licinius Crassus yet?”
“No, but your brothers arranged a meeting for a couple of days from now. It seems they have a good relationship with the man; I was told that Crassus is planning a switch to the Populares after some of the mighty nobles of the Optimates faction stated their goal of curtailing his business expansions. He started to hide some of his more lucrative activities from them and is biding his time until he has an issue for the Senate that makes the move a truly worthwhile surprise.”
“That means my brothers will do the same when the time comes. Feels like Marius’ Populares faction is coming back from the dead,” Aurelia mused.
They turned off the main street to reach a neighborhood of older but nicely kept townhouses. Gone was the bustle of the Subura’s famous insulae, cheaply built apartment complexes housing most of Rome’s population. After the tremendous noise, the peace and quiet they walked through now felt like heaven to him.
After several blocks, Aurelia waved the servants in front to a stop. She pointed to a freshly whitewashed façade with no windows. The stately, well-built door of solid oak had a small opening at eye height, covered from the outside with iron bars.
“Here is the house, what do you think of the location?” Aurelia asked.
Caesar looked at Cornelia, who nodded to his mother. “You are right, Aurelia, it’s not too bad. There are several blocks between this and the next insulae, and no brothels around. Let’s go and look inside.”
Caesar knocked and waited until an older slave looking out through the iron bars greeted him.
“We are here to look at the house, as was arranged with your master,” Aurelia stated.
The man moved back from the door, opened it, and let them enter.
“Ah, the atrium dates the house a bit. The old-fashioned style with columns all around the pool,” Cornelia stated.
Caesar gave her a hug. “I rather like the columns. Even the walls look great.” He pointed out the paintings, consisting of geometric patterns on white walls, with a few small sections depicting harvest scenes, musicians and festivities. They might be original or newly done in a remodel. Either way, they were pristine. He pulled her along, eager to see more of the dwelling.
“I agree, they are bright and friendly, not like most new houses where everything is painted in dark reds or blues. Look, the dining room is similar. I am surprised how much I like this domus. Let’s buy it,” Cornelia said with a smile.
My career is looking up, I have the girl of my dreams, and now we have the perfect home to start our family. He was ecstatic. Finally, everything was going his way.
678 AUC (76 BC), summer
Forty miles southwest of Tbessa, Kingdom of Numidia
Oppressive heat added swirls into the air. Seventeen-year-old Ozalkis and his seven-year-old nephew Adherbal stalked a group of red deer in the afternoon sun when Oz raised his hand, indicating the need to stop. For once he wished they had brought long spears instead of their bows and knifes. Ranging farther every day into the mix of sparse evergreen woods, bush, and dry grasslands at this southern edge of the Aures Mountains in the eastern Atlas range, the two were happy to encounter any game, be it barbary sheep, boar, gazelle, screwhorn antelope, oryx, or hartebeest. Though now he had spotted another kind of hunter and knew they were in trouble. A barbary leopard had joined them, one of three dangerous local predators. The others were the barbary lion and the atlas bear. Though perhaps less powerful than a pride of lions or a mother bear, a leopard’s inquisitive nature meant it wasn’t shy when encountering humans.
Oz pulled on the cloth of his tunic where it hugged his chest. It stuck to his sweaty skin, annoying now that he had become tense with worry. He studied the boy next to him. They shared a distinct brown complexion, curly dark brown hair and brown eyes, different from the lighter skinned people that were the majority in Numidia. Adhe’s nose though was slightly smaller and less sharp edged than his own, which also had a hoo
k reminiscent of an eagle’s beak. He sighed in resignation. I can’t let anything happen to you.
“We need to hide in the bushes. Stay silent,” Oz whispered. They both pushed into the acacia growth to kneel, snapping dry branches in the process. Though their simple cotton tunics, left unbleached in their light brown color, helped them blend in, the key was distance. Oz and Adhe always stalked their prey from downwind. The huge leopard had the same idea. Creeping, the cat made its way closer to the deer until it was only a couple hundred feet away from him and his nephew. It sniffed the air, turning sideways until it stopped in the direction of their hiding spot. Ozalkis shoulders slumped and he closed his eyes. Oh no. Now a showdown is inevitable.
He looked up to see a frightened Adhe looking at him with big eyes. “Promise me you will wait until I shoot before you let your own arrow go. I want the cat to go after me in case I only wound it,” Oz declared. He waited for a clear nod from Adhe before pulling his string close to his cheek, keeping the nocked arrow pointed at the big cat as it stalked towards them and letting it fly at twenty feet. The cat increased its pace at the last moment, resulting in the arrow only grazing the cat’s right shoulder, causing a roar of anger. The leopard sprinted the last ten feet before leaping. Oz dropped his bow and drew his thin long knife, holding it outstretched in his right hand in anticipation. Quick movement from the right let him know that Adhe had launched his arrow, clearly missing its target. The huge cat hit Ozalkis like a battering ram and launched him backward. The back of his head exploded with fiery pain before everything went black.
***
“Salpo, come quick, your brother needs our help!” Oz heard Mipsa shout from afar. He glanced up. Though late in the day, the two had been out weeding. Before he had to close his eyes again, he saw them drop their tools and run over. He stumbled, his legs did not have much strength left.
