Camillus – Dictator of Rome.
The Fall of Veii (Part 2)
The amazing cover is designed by Ruth Musson and the remainder of the book is self-published. The artwork is the copyright of the author of this book.
This book is the third in the series Camillus - Dictator of Rome
Prequel – The Ancilia Shield
Book 1 – Dawn of the Eagle
Book 2 – The Fall of Veii (part 1)
Book 3 – The Fall of Veii (part 2)
Book 4 – Vae Victis (Woe to the vanquished)
Short story – The Thracian
Book 5 – King of Rome
Published 2014 – Copyright F.M.Mulhern
115,851 words
“It is the privilege of antiquity to mingle divine things with human; it adds dignity to the past and if any nation deserves the right to a divine origin, it is our own” Livy
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or used in any form, or any means without the prior consent of the author.
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Chapter 1
The evening skyline blazed a golden hue as the sun sank below a deep bank of startling white clouds topped with a ridge of brilliant gold. Each ray of light seemed to stream into the heavens proclaiming the glory of the Feriae Latinae, the festival of the Latin Alliance, led by Rome. As the fires burned brighter in the rapidly dimming light and the athletic contests came to a close men began to mingle in the firelight, renewing old acquaintances and starting fresh ones anew. Proud boasts of deeds of valour and stories of local tribe successes in the previous season’s campaigns turned to glorifying friends who had fallen in action against Veii or the Volsci or Aequians. Each story gained a new twist as memories flooded back to the drunken minds of the teller, some almost weeping at the loss of valiant kinsmen. The small gatherings grew larger as the men shuffled into their tribal groups attracted by the warmth of the large pit fires. Friends and neighbours drank together before they gave up their land for the hard marches and death-dealing battles that would settle a peace over their land and allow them to grow old tilling their soil, or so they wished.
Valsuida had had too much to drink, his head was beginning to feely fuggy as he blinked his eyes and swayed from side to side listening to the sound of the pipes from the far side of the fire.
“Good music” he said to the younger man next to him as he raised his arm towards the location of the music.
“Mmm” came the noncommittal reply.
“Alasaric, you seem quiet my friend, what is the matter? Today is a celebration of the glory of our alliance, why do you look so glum? ”
Alasaric sat with his elbows on his knees, his back bent forwards and his head nodded forlornly as he stared into the dancing flames of the fire. His mouth turned up at the corners but no mirth showed on his face as he turned his head towards his uncle. At twenty two years of age Alasaric had seen two campaigning seasons, both hard-fought summers away from his home and his young sons. He glanced at the long scar running along his right arm, a red streak along his forearm which reminded him how close he had come to death on that day. He closed his eyes as he saw the mad eyes of the attacker, his stinking breath coming to his nostrils as it had done on the day he had gained the scar. The spear thrust had been too quick for him, his shield arm had been slow and the thrust had run along his arm, digging into his flesh and burning as if he had thrust his arm into the fire in front of him. He let out a deep sigh as he opened his eyes and turned to his uncle. Valsuida was a veteran of more than ten summer campaigns. His bright eyes sparkled with a love of life that made Alasaric recoil as he contemplated his own sorrow at the things he had seen in two summers, the death, the destruction, the hatred of men.
“I am not one for these wars, uncle” he replied forlornly. “I do not glorify the deaths of men or the raping of women and boys” he said as his head moved slowly from side to side, his long dark hair covering his face.
“Ha” laughed the older man, his eyes narrowing as he placed a soft hand on his nephews arm, squeezing slowly. “I’ve told you lad” he said, his drunken eyes seeming to grow sharper. “The gods have their plans and we men simply play our parts in their designs. It is wrong to ponder on such things as our own mortality. Glory and plunder is our way lad, and you are a born killer. These arms of yours” he said as he squeezed Alasaric’s thick bicep muscles, his fingers hardly able to reach around his bulky arms. “These will keep you alive, these and your prayers to the gods” he added with a yellow-toothed grin.
After a moments silence Alasaric shook his head. “The war with Veii has been eight years uncle. Eight years. How can men stand to be away from home for so long? I couldn’t” he exclaimed. “My farm would be nothing but wasteland by now” he added as he looked into his uncle’s face.
Valsuida nodded and placed his heavy wooden cup to the floor, glancing around at the noise of the men around the fire as they laughed, drank and played dice into the early part of the night. The festival of the Latin League was nearly over, the spring was coming and Valsuida knew that the time for the Ancilia Shield to be drawn around Rome by the dancing priests of the Salii was only days away. The festival marked the renewing of the vows of alliance between the tribes of the Latin delta and Rome, the greatest city of the alliance.
“Yes.” His words were quietly spoken as he patted the strong muscles of his younger kinsman. “The war with Veii has been long, longer than anything any of these men have ever known.” He smiled. “Some say it will last longer than the siege of Troy” he said as Alasaric nodded in response.
“I have heard that too.”
A silence, filled with the music of the pipes and the noise of several drunken men dancing and singing around the fire, came over the two men. As the flames jumped in time with the dancing men Valsuida smiled.
“You should be glad you are not a Roman, Alasaric” he said, nudging his nephew with his arm.
Alasaric grinned, his first proper smile of the evening as he let out a sharp breath and sat up, stretching his back, which clicked noisily as he rubbed vigorously at a point above his left hip. “You are right uncle. To be a slave to the military and to be camped summer and winter in front of the highest walls man has ever built” he shook his head. “Troy was nothing compared to Veii” he said as he picked up Valsuida’s drinking cup and drank a long draught as the older man laughed at his action.
“They are not slaves” Valsuida replied with a huff as he grabbed the cup and looked at the almost empty vessel and the grinning face of his kin.
“That’s what the Romans say.”
“Only the Plebeian politicians say that. The men get paid and also get a share of the plunder from the wars. A year’s pay for a year’s work is what they say.”
“There is no share from Veii yet and the years roll by with no opportunity for the men to return home” replied Alasaric. “I heard that the men at Veii petitioned their Senate to return home for the winter but were refused again.” He added. “I also heard that every day the King of Veii calls for men from Rome to join his city, the city is filled with food, water, women and is warm in the winter while the men sleep in their thin blankets and freezing cold wooden huts.”
“I heard that too” Valsuida said with a knowing look. “But such things happen in war. What if a few men creep away and desert to the enemy in the cold months? The might of Rome will overcome Veii” he said with a firm nod.
“A few?” exclaimed Alasaric. “I heard it is hundreds every day.”
“Haha young Alasaric. Hundreds? Well surely there must be no
men left at the walls of Veii if such numbers are running from the cold. Surely the soldiers of Rome are hardy men and will suffer such hardships for their city. I think you are listening to the grumblings of these plebeian politicians who are working to gain their own glory instead of the glory of the alliance.” He finished with a grim look as he glanced around the fire quickly to check that nobody was listening to his words, chiding himself for allowing the drink to fuel his anger. He knew such words could mean a knife in the back if he said them too often or too loudly. Alasaric glanced around the fire too, placing a hand on his uncle’s arm.
“Such stories will be the death of us all” Alasaric said quietly with a wink. After a short silence he continued.
“Which unit have you been voted to uncle?” he asked more brightly.
“The Eagles of Camillus” said the older man with a broad grin, his face showing how much he was looking forward to the deployment.
“Hmm” said Alasaric. “I hear he is chosen of the gods and a great leader” he said, his eyes scanning the nearest men for signs that they were listening.
“He got the soldiers pay. He follows the laws and rituals like no other and the gods love him for it” Valsuida said as he touched a bracelet on his left wrist, the bronze shining in the firelight as Alasaric’s eyes glanced to his movement.
“He allows the politicians to argue their cases and he makes firm decisions.”
“I hear he is firm with his men” Alasaric said with a look at the older man, his scar covered arms and tightly drawn face smiling into the fire as they talked.
“The men need a firm hand” he replied. “They should put him in charge of the camp at Veii, you know the stories” he whispered as his eyes widened.
“Yes I know the stories” replied Alasaric with a slight nod. “But no Roman patrician will ever be found guilty of supplying food and weapons to Veii.”
“It happens though” came the quiet response before another short silence.
“They say that this Camillus was the man to get Calvus the role of Consular Tribune” Alasaric said with a quizzical look to his right.
“Yes” replied the older man “and didn’t he and the plebeians do a great job in command that year. The word is that they were so good that the patricians of Rome connived to bring him and the rest of the Tribunes down.”
“I heard that too”
“And” continued Valsuida “they say that Rufus and Calvus made such great changes to the laws in Rome that the public purse will be secure for many years.”
“I heard that Camillus sanctioned their changes in the Senate. The people like him” replied Alasaric as he stretched his back again and looked around the fire as men started to stand and head back to their sleeping tents, the night had drawn in already.
“I hear he has many enemies now, uncle”
“Which man does not?” came the stout reply. “Indeed nephew, we should feel lucky that our job is to stand in line and thrust our spears, not to play two games, one of war and one of politics” he laughed at his own words.
Alasaric laughed too, genuinely agreeing with his uncle’s summary of life. He looked into the face of his uncle, seeing the eyes of his long dead father staring back at him. “And these Eagles, I have heard they fight like demons who cluster around the spears and fight close to their enemies with short swords and thick shields?” he asked.
“I have heard this too” nodded Valsuida. “I hear that Camillus is a great leader who thinks his way through a battle rather than throws men at it. That can only be good” he said as he touched the bronze bracelet again. “I also hear that he is consulted by the other Tribunes on every decision” he said quietly as his eyes quickly scanned two men who were wondering past.
“I doubt that” came the reply. “These Roman high-borns don’t take easily to being given orders by others, you know what they’re like.” He whispered the last words quietly with a roll of his eyes. “Glory, glory, glory” he mouthed with a shake of his head.
“I hear the patricians consulted their Sibylline books” Valsuida said, the look of awe coming to his face making his nephew smile at him and shake his head.
“Do you really think they have such a thing? I hear that was a trick used by their old Kings to keep power over the people” he said genuinely.
“Don’t say such things” Valsuida said, looking to the sky and mumbling a few words of prayer and rubbing his bracelet. Alasaric didn’t follow this goddess Fortuna or Mater Matuta as many of the men did. He kept his faith in his strong arm and sharp sword, though he glanced up at the sky for any sign of response to the old man’s mumblings and found his heart beating more rapidly in his chest.
“You heard about the two-headed calf?” Valsuida said once he had finished his words of supplication to his gods.
“No!”
“In Retia a two-headed calf was born. They said it brayed from both mouths at birth and Augurs descended on the town to try to understand its portent.”
Alasaric looked at his uncle, his mouth open at this news.
“When was this, I’ve not heard of it”
“Three weeks ago” came the reply. Valsuida leant forwards and whispered “It’s an ill omen” he added.
Alasaric looked into the eyes of his uncle, a fear coming over him as the man stared at him with a grim expression. “But what does such a thing mean?” he asked.
“Nobody knows yet. But it cannot be good.”
“I heard from Lassius that the plebeians are angry at having no Tribunes this season” Valsuida said with alarm in his voice.
“What does Lassius know, the man is a snake”
“He runs messages between Veii and Rome and knows more than you credit him” Valsuida said in defence of his friend.
Alasaric huffed, but his interest was piqued and he looked at his uncle again. “And what does he say?”
Valsuida shrugged. “He says that Rome is in disarray, the plebeian politicians are attacking the patricians and the patrician politicians use the law to hold the plebeians back from all the senior offices.”
“But I heard the plebeians Tribunes did well!”
“So did I Alasaric, but you know how these Romans are power hungry. The patricians completed the Augurs and said that the pestilence that swept through Rome was caused because the gods were angry at the people. They say the gods sent messages to tell the patricians that they, and only they, should be the Consular Tribunes.”
Alasaric laughed, everyone knew that only the patricians could divine the auguries and so used them to further their own cause. “I heard that too, and that Appius Claudius had stood in the assembly and called for peace between the political parties” he added.
“And they impeached that administrator for stealing the war taxes, what was his name?” Valsuida said with a frown which showed his mind was trying to remember the name.
“Lars Herminius Aquilinus” came the cold reply. “Thieving bastard.”
“Poor lad more like” said Valsuida. “No doubt he fell foul of one of his masters schemes and paid the price of being sacrificed for the greater good of someone higher up the ladder” he said in reply.
Alasaric nodded and looked at another group of men heading for their tents. The two men sat in silence for a few moments before Alasaric spoke again.
“So you will join Camillus tomorrow?”
“Yes, with Ambasius, Fatius and Collinius from the town, and their men” came the slow reply.
“The word is that you will be journeying to Veii to support the attacks on the siege works” he stated.
“So I hear, and it’s needed. The attacks from the Capenates and Faliscans as well as the raiding parties from the city are causing problems in the camp. I hear discipline is bad and that the men are in low spirits. This war will never be won at the walls of Veii” he said glumly with a look to his nephew.
“Cheer up uncle, maybe this great man Camillus will topple the walls and win us a great victory” laughed Alasaric with a shov
e at his uncle who grinned back at him.
“Maybe.”
“They say he has never lost a battle. Is it true?” asked the younger man with a measure of respect in his voice. “If it is then surely the gods do favour the man” he added.
Valsuida leant forward, his eyes roving the ground around the fire where only small pockets of men now sat, all deep in quiet conversations. “Some of the soldiers say there is a prophecy that he will lead Rome to great glory” he whispered. “Him and his Eagles” the old man added.
“I haven’t heard this” came the astonished reply.
“You have only two seasons Alasaric, what do you expect?” laughed the old man as he winked at the wide eyes of his kinsman.
“Tell me more of this uncle” Alasaric asked in hushed tones as he edged closer to his uncle and smiled, a sudden hope growing inside him that this war might finally come to an end.
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Chapter 2
The scout held his breath, pulling lightly on the rope he had tied to his waist to signal to the men behind him to stop. He strained his eyes and watched the lights away in front of him as they bobbed and weaved through the trees, the yellow glow faint but clear in his vision. The darkness was almost total, the rustle of the trees the only sound in the thickness of the night. Ahead he knew were the ravines which led almost directly to Veii, the deep gullies carved by the gods as a marker to signify its greatness. Behind him lay the great Alban Lake, the waters low as the spring rains had been light this year and the place where the Romans had set up their main camp. A movement caught his eye again, the lights were leaving as the guards headed back to their posts, as he expected. His business dealings with Comus of the Aequii had been good, but not as good as his latest dealings with the Roman Senator, the man was a genius and knew every trick to get his supplies into the besieged city. With his uncanny ability to see in the dark better than any man alive, the scout had been sought out and had agreed to organise the supply runs for the Senator. For the past seven years he had made more money than he could count and still the Senators information was beyond reproach, every detail of the troop’s movements was almost exact, as if the man were moving them himself.
The Fall of Veii- Part 2 Page 1
