From Darkness

by C K Ruppelt

  The young man’s eyebrows raised in wonder. “I swear it. May the gods punish me if I don’t hold to it.”

  “Once you have him alone, hand him the letter and the coin purse and wait for a written response before you come back.” Divico lifted his right hand, showing the man his index finger. “When you do have his response, you will come straight back. You do not make stops or talk to anybody else until you delivered that man’s word to me, understood?”

  The man nodded.

  “Very good. Now go!” Divico twirled the ends of his white mustache as he watched the young warrior rush to his mount and ride away. He chuckled to himself as he walked the last few steps to the Great Hall.

  ***

  Three weeks later Divico made his move by betraying Orgetorix’s motives to the Helvetii council. When they heard how his rival had planned to become war king, by force if necessary, and how he had conspired with a Sequani councilor named Castico to help him stay in power after, the council at once sent all their retainers to find and arrest him. Though you will not have the opportunity to tell them about your ally among the Aedui. I have my own plans for that man.

  After the arrest came the hard part—convincing the council to stick to the laid plans for the nation’s migration. Their first impulse had been to cancel the whole endeavor. With the councilors won over he walked to the guard house of the Helvetii Great Hall where Orgetorix and a few of his retainers were held. He must think he is to be executed. That’s usually the only reason why anybody is in here.

  “Let me in,” he told the guard at the door. “I am here to fetch Orgetorix.”

  He patiently waited for the door to be unlocked and walked through. He stopped in disgust at the stink of unwashed men and overflowing chamber pots and tried to find his young rival in the twilight. There he was, a rather short man with blue tattoos up the side of his neck and cheeks. Divico smiled. His own were carefully limited to his chest and arms. He had always thought the young man’s taste too flashy.

  “Orgetorix, you’re free to go, with compliments of the council,” he stated loudly. Every man in the room rose in surprise. Divico held up his hand. “Nobody else, only Orgetorix.”

  The man looked at him with suspicion and obvious mistrust. Divico turned and walked back out, only stopping once he reached the wide stairs leading to the great hall. He saw Orgetorix walk out of the guard house, take one last look at Divico and walk down the main road towards the gates. You are making this too easy for me.

  Divico continued up the stairs and into the Great Hall. He walked through the whole building and out the backdoor, doubling back towards the gate. His retainers waited for him, out of sight of the road. “He went out only five minutes ago. Plenty of time to catch up,” one of them said.

  “Lead on,” Divico said. “And don’t worry about me, I can keep up, white hair or not.”

  The entire group started to run and quickly caught up to Orgetorix. “Wait up, friend!” Divico called.

  Clearly uncomfortable, the man still stopped to wait. “What do you want now?”

  “I want to clarify that I hold no hard feelings, and neither does the council. In fact, I want to give you a gift. Please, follow me.” He led the man a quarter mile off the road to a small altar stone in a clearing.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Orgetorix asked. Just as he turned to Divico, one of the men gripped him from behind, while two others pulled his arms forward. “This gift is a blessing from me to your family,” Divico said, pulling out an ornate knife and inflicting two deep cuts into Orgetorix’s wrists. “This way, your children will not be tainted by your actions. In fact, I have plans for your oldest son Bricio, to help me make the council see things my way.”

  “Gently,” he directed his men, who lowered a wailing Orgetorix to the ground next to the altar, leaning his back and head against it. He watched on as the lifeblood drained out of the man. “Farewell,” Divico said as he laid the knife down in the grass close to Orgetorix’ left hand. He stepped back and nodded in satisfaction at the scene. Honorable suicide was by far the best choice.

  TERTIUS

  Nova Familia (A New Family)

  “All Gallia is divided into three parts, one of which the Belgae inhabit, the Aquitani another, those who in their own language are called Celts, in our Galli, the third. All these differ from each other in language, customs and laws. The river Garumna separates the Galli from the Aquitani; the Matrona and the Sequana separate them from the Belgae. Of all these, the Belgae are the bravest, because they are furthest from the civilization and refinement of [our] Province, and merchants least frequently resort to them, and import those things which tend to effeminate the mind; and they are the nearest to the Germans, who dwell beyond the Rhenus, with whom they are continually waging war; for which reason the Helvetii also surpass the rest of the Galli in valor, as they contend with the Germans in almost daily battles, when they either repel them from their own territories, or themselves wage war on their frontiers.”

  Julius Caesar, De Bello Gallico, Book 1 / Chapter 1

  695 AUC (59 BC), summer

  Rome, Italia, Capital of the Roman Republic

  “You’re late,” Marcus Licinius Crassus said when he recognized exactly who walked out of the dark of the early morning hour into the light of the few oil lamps and torches held by the people behind him. Suddenly, more light came around the street corner behind the man approaching, highlighting the outline of the newly minted commoner Publius Claudius Pulcher, who had led his gang of Populares brawlers down into this small street full of stinking garbage. Of course, Pulcher had picked a spot like this as their rallying point. “What does it matter? We did what we set out to do,” came the defiant reply.

  “And where is Marcus Antonius with the veterans?” Crassus stepped out from between his men to shake Pulcher’s hand, his man Luctatus and his brother Fraucus sticking to his side while their friend Postumus remained behind him, all with cudgels ready.

  “They ran after the survivors. We caught a group of two-hundred Optimates brawlers between us and left at least a hundred of them dead or dying. The rest ran like dogs with their tails between their legs,” the bloody Pulcher replied to his ally. The torch in his hand highlighted the spatters covering his face and tunic, his wide, crazy eyes above his vicious grin shifting quickly. “And here he comes! Salve Antonius, did you catch more of them?”

  Crassus turned to see Caesar’s distant relative approach from the other end of the alley with a few of his younger followers. The torchlight made Antonius seem like a monster from the underworld, broadly grinning despite the open gash in his forehead, the blood running down from his dark-blond hair across his left forehead and over his swollen eye.

  “Of course, we did! They never stood a chance against real veterans,” he nodded behind him at the hundred battle-hardened soldiers in civilian clothes now filing into the street. Caesar was right. We are invincible now.

  “Well done, men, and I mean all of you!” Crassus shouted across the street. “But no celebrations yet, we are only halfway there. We need to make a showing for the Senate this morning, I need all of you at the west end of the forum at first light. After the senate meeting starts you can drink and party through the day on my coin, that’s the least I can do.”

  Let’s see what our Optimates senators do today. Most of them are weak and should be properly afraid to go against us once they see these men. The few of the Optimates senators that were made from sterner stuff were either out of town, or not influential enough to make a difference. Caesar timed this perfectly.

  ***

  In the morning, Gaius Julius Caesar walked at the head of his twelve lictors through the ancient Forum Romanum on his way to a senate emergency meeting called by Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus. He saw Crassus standing at the edge of the open plaza in front of the Curia Hostilia and joined him. “Good morning, I trust everything is in order?”

  “You could say that,” Crassus replied, pointing to the southside of t
he plaza.

  Caesar’s gaze followed Crassus finger to the Populares gang members at the western end of the forum. He noticed with satisfaction how the other senators kept as far away from them as possible. The brawlers were crowded too closely to count, though he knew they were several hundred strong. “They didn’t even clean-up,” he commented when he noticed the blood-stained clothing.

  “Nice touch, don’t you think? I figured it would clarify the message,” Crassus replied with a chuckle.

  Caesar heard several loud exclamations from behind and turned to see a group of Optimates senators enter the plaza, Pompeius in the lead.

  When he looked back at the brawlers, many of the ones in back raised their hands in greeting. Those were Pompeius’ veterans, acknowledging their old commander. Though Pompeius didn’t wave back, the slight smile was enough for Caesar. The group of senators walked on, oblivious to what was about to happen.

  He is squarely in our camp now. Today is the birth of the strongest alliance Rome has ever seen, and I will be an equal partner in it. The Senate was sufficiently cowed to allow Pompeius’ renewed proposal to move forward. The Populares would all vote for it, and enough of the Optimates would follow Pompeius’ example to ensure a majority. Their new ally would get the eastern lands he wanted for his discharged veterans. And Crassus and I will have his goodwill and cooperation in return.

  ***

  “You really think your time as bachelor might be over?” Lucius Cornelius Cinna stated in disbelief.

  Caesar nodded as they marched down the city sidewalk, surrounded by his lictors and twenty of his poorer clients for security. “It’s not like I planned this. I had meant to stay a bachelor for the time being. A couple of months ago, Lucius Calpurnius Piso Caesoninus asked me to come to his house for a strategy dinner. He said he wanted to help me succeed this year as best I could. As one of last year’s two consuls, I didn’t suspect his motives in the least.” Caesar chuckled. “When I got to his house, the only other dinner guest was his seventeen-year-old daughter Calpurnia. He used every possible excuse throughout the evening to leave me alone with her. And his ploy worked, I am quite smitten with the girl.” It was a nice evening and Caesar enjoyed the stroll. The group aimed for the house of Quintus Tullius Cicero and his clients kept up a steady stream of happy banter and chit-chat that drowned out the other street noises.

  “Are you serious? She’s only seventeen.” Cinna asked incredulously.

  “I know, I shouldn’t even consider it, she’s younger than Julia. At first glance, she seems shy and humble, but I was hooked the moment I glimpsed a deep fire burning beneath that lovely façade,” Caesar mused. “You can let me know what you think of her after tonight. She’s on the guest list.”

  Cinna shook his head, Caesar didn’t know if it was in wonder or disgust, though he hoped it was the first. His beloved Cornelia was gone for over ten years now, and his loveless marriage to Pompeia had ended over three years ago. The biggest obstacle to a new marriage were his own feelings concerning his five-year-long affair with Servilia, senator Silanus’ wife. He had developed a deep love for the attractive and intelligent woman. He sighed unhappily. She had just recently told him that her one-year-old Junia Tertia was his daughter. But Servilia will never divorce Silanus. I will never be able to publicly acknowledge either of them.

  A few minutes later they turned onto the city block containing the younger Cicero brother’s house. It would be good to see his old friend again who had been out of town for three years, serving as propraetor governor of Asia province.

  “When did Quintus Cicero come back?” Cinna asked.

  “Only a week ago. He has yet to step foot into the Senate,” Caesar answered. “I think he doesn’t want to face his brother Marcus quite yet. They are in another one of their stubborn quarrels. It seems the older brother figured out that Pulcher works closely with Crassus and me and he urges Quintus to disassociate himself from our friendship over the matter.” The whole ordeal was very painful for Caesar who had a bond with both brothers. A stoic at heart, the older Cicero had publicly praised Caesar’s efforts as lawyer for the provinces many times, at least until recently. I hope he comes around again. All I can do for now is to mitigate some of Pulcher’s actions before they can do real and irreparable damage to my old friend.

  One of Caesar’s lictors knocked on the front door, and most of the party filed into the residence’s atrium. The bodyguards put down their rods and got comfortable around the pool where they would receive food directly from the kitchen, while his entourage of clients had to wander down the street in search of a public eatery.

  His Athenian servant handed him and Cinna indoor sandals, and Caesar sat down on a bench to take off his closed leather shoes. “Thank you, Cleisthenes. You are excused to leave for the kitchen.”

  “Thank you, master, I will,” the servant stated before heading to a hallway leading off the atrium’s side.

  Caesar stood up and approached the majordomo, Cinna close behind. “Lead the way, please.” The old man brought them into the triclinium, the townhouse’s beautiful smaller and more intimate dining room. Any traditional dining room had three big open couches set up to create a big U, but these were brand-new and had several fluffy-looking cushions on each. The couches were quite wide, and their surfaces sloped away from the center of the room in the traditional ancient Greek style, allowing for three diners per couch resting on their left sides. I need to give our hostess a compliment for her good taste.

  The men remained in the entryway to wait for their hosts and the other guest. “Did you see the open scroll on the table in the hallway?” Cinna asked.

  “Yes, I did. Looks like Marcus Cicero’s latest work, doesn’t it?” he answered. All the man’s court speeches had been recently combined into a book, and thousands of copies made and distributed across Rome’s more refined households. “Please don’t comment on that book,” Caesar continued. “Quintus is not overly fond of all the glory Marcus reaps, especially for this latest book. People are lauding him as master of Latin prose and the greatest orator of all time.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” Cinna replied, looking at the several small tables in the center of the room that would hold plates of food later within reach of the couches. “Any idea what kind of food we’ll get tonight?”

  “Probably something Greek. Quintus wrote me that he picked up new household staff in Pergamum,” Caesar replied with a shrug. “The food is really of no concern to me, sorry.” I am here for the conversation. I’d be just as happy eating field rations.

  He soon heard their hosts approach, their loud voices echoing down the hallway. “You really had to do that? You know I don’t like it, not at all,” Quintus screamed at his wife Pomponia.

  “Yes, I did, and why should I always worry about what you like when you never care about what I like anyway?” came the heated reply as the couple walked towards the triclinium. Those two had been married for eleven years—yet had never seen eye to eye on anything as long as Caesar could remember. The majordomo looked uncomfortable that nobody seemed to have told the hosts that guests had arrived and rushed out to lead his employers into the room.

  Quintus Cicero made straight for Caesar for a tight arm clasp that quickly turned into a hug. “Thank you for coming, old friend.”

  “How could I not?” Caesar smiled and turned to the hostess. “Salve Pomponia, it is so good to see you again. Thank you for letting me visit your home, it turned out beautiful. I love the style,” he said with a wide grin, indicating the couches behind him.

  Pomponia beamed back at him, clearly pleased by the compliment. Caesar knew that she had invested much effort and money into the house in her husband’s absence. “Thank you. I hope you will like both the food and company tonight.” She gave him a saucy wink. “I last met Calpurnia at a dinner five years ago when she was just a pretty little thing. She was shy and didn’t say more than please and thank you.” She looked over to her husband. “I didn’t get many dinn
er invitations while my husband was in Asia. I am so happy to have him back home. I took our son and visited him in Asia province for a few months, but that wasn’t nearly long enough. Quintus junior is seven and he needs his father around as a role model.”

  Caesar’s reaction was to blush since Pomponia’s comments prickled his conscience. He could have easily invited her and her son over for a dinner event, and he had meant to ask his old friend tonight to sign on as legate a few months from now, which would take him away from his family again. When Caesar’s year of consulship was at an end he would leave Rome for the provinces. Well, he had already secured several loyal commanders. He smiled back at Pomponia. Maybe I will ask Quintus to join me a year later.

  As if reading his thoughts, Cicero asked “I heard the Senate confirmed you for both Gallia Cisalpina and Illyricum provinces for next year. How in the world did you manage that?”

  With support from both sides of the aisle. He was not ready to share that yet. “By placating enough senators to see it my way. Did you hear that Quintus Caecilius Metellus Celer died a few days ago?” Caesar asked.

  Cicero shook his head. “I have not, and you know I haven’t been back at the Senate yet. I figured to make tomorrow’s meeting my first one back.”