The Fall of Veii- Part 2

by Francis Mulhern

  “Surely you listened and connected these thoughts? Tell me you did brother?” Lucius was looking with disbelief to his younger sibling, his dark eyes a mask of confusion. Marcus hadn’t even given it a moment’s thought, his mind had been consumed with the idea of supporting the soldiers, of creating his Eagles to be the servants of Rome. He looked again at his brother but no words came to his lips as his mind started to connect thoughts and words.

  Lucius shook his head, more in exasperation than anger.

  “On our Uncles shade I could kick you. Marcus” he chided with a smile as Marcus simply shook his head in reply. Taking a moment to consider he turned to Marcus and laughed. “Maybe, brother, this is the thing with the prophecy. That you cannot see it and others must help you to see what the words can mean and how to act upon them” he said with his eyes narrowed. “It must be so” he said, more to himself than to Marcus, and with these words ringing in his ears Lucius set off again, with Marcus one step behind him thinking about the waters of Veii and what the prophecy could mean.

  ****

  “We must support his rear” came the high-pitched squeal from the Centurion as Virginius stared absently into the distance, his face bored despite the deafening noise only three hundred paces away.

  “He has not signalled for support and therefore he does not require it Centurion. If you see a signal, do please make me aware of it. Until that time please do not repeat your comment.”

  The Centurion saluted, his face an angry mask of confusion as he turned and strode to his position at the front of the troops.

  Veii had sent another raiding party out in the first light of dawn and had been surprised by the waiting Romans, a trap laid by Servilius as the overall leader of the Roman troops, with Sergius and Virginius supporting each other as leaders of the attack parties. The two tribunes had argued like spoilt children as to who would lead the main attack and after a petulant outburst by Sergius, Servilius had given in to his claim for the senior role. The animosity between the two men had grown steadily over the preceding days and as the attack began to take shape Virginius had announced loudly to the departing Sergius that should he require his support he would be awaiting his signal. Sergius had gotten his meaning instantly and resolved that there was no way that he would request the help of his enemy.

  The Centurion stood and watched the scene in front of him. The Veientines had attacked the siege works at a fort along the edge of the forest where the cunicula were widest, the deep holes making the ground uneven and the defences weak. Sergius had rallied his men and taken the initiative, moving his troops into two deep lines and spreading them across the long ditch of the defences. The Veientines had jumped the ditch and come around behind the Roman line, but the rear group of spearmen had already turned and taken arms against them. The fighting was fierce, with men falling from both sides and the cacophony of noise echoing off the wooden walls of the defences. The Centurion had seen the danger, a new troop of soldiers had appeared from one of the deep trenches along the wooden wall. They must have crawled for hundreds of yards to get to this position, but now that they had pounced they were in amongst the Romans before Sergius could react. His men were hacked from three sides, almost boxed in and falling in their droves. The Centurion hopped from one foot to the other, gripping and re-gripping his sword and staring at the Tribune to see if he would send a signal, but nothing came. He watched the head of an old friend, his scream dying in his open mouth as it fell into the mud and bounced once before disappearing into the ditch. His anger nearly spilled over, but he held his breath and gritted his teeth. More Romans fell, more than half the original force already dead. Sergius was fighting like a bull, charging into the enemy and being dragged back by his men, their curses and screams ringing into the air.

  Sergius pulled back and peered around, his eyes falling on Virginius who sat with four hundred men to his left and stared blankly at him, the corners of his mouth curling. The men from the ditch were scything through Sergius’ remaining men and he turned and called retreat to his soldiers, struggling to find his feet as he edged backwards towards the safety of the fort. The Centurion glanced to his officer but saw no trace of any emotion on the man’s face.

  The Veientines cheered as the last few Romans were hacked, Sergius taking a sword to the helmet which knocked him senseless for a moment before his second in command picked him up and dragged him out of danger.

  “Ha” laughed Virginius as he watched Sergius lifted bodily from the scene. “Carried off like a child” he mumbled to a few sniggers from the closest soldiers to him. “Back to the camp” called Virginius as he watched the last Roman disappear behind the defences and the Veientines cheer wildly before diving onto the dead bodies and stripping them of as much armour or coins as they could find.

  ****

  The camp had fallen into the kind of silence where everyone was busily doing as little as they could and were surrounding the Senior Tribunes tent to listen to the rebukes that carried into the still air. The angry shouting and cursing had lasted for a full twenty minutes as Honorius berated the two Tribunes, each berating the other as the reason for the death of nearly three hundred Romans. Men looked to each other and shook their heads as they wandered past on delivery runs which were hundreds of yards out of their usual passage and they strained their ears as they slowed their pace to hear the commanding officer calling his Tribunes inept and useless. Many men smiled at the dressing down the useless officers got. Others smiled at the thought that there may be some payment for the death of their friends, brothers or cousins.

  “You cannot be serious” yelled Honorius, the veins standing out in his neck as he stared at the two men standing in front of him. He rose from his chair. “What sort of fool does not support a fellow Roman who is clearly losing to a greater number of enemy soldiers?” he called, the spit rolling off his bottom lip as his eyes bulged in anger. Honorius was tall and thin, his long face clean shaven and his blue-green eyes pale in his olive skinned face. He held up his hand as Virginius stepped forward aggressively to speak.

  “And what sort of fool doesn’t call for support when heavily outnumbered?” he added to Sergius, his head covered in a thick bandage which was already red with his blood from the wound he had taken to his head.

  Both men stared at each other with a level of loathing which made the tent almost crackle with the hatred they held towards each other.

  “You are both the worst soldiers I have ever seen. Do you understand what damage you have done to the soldiers out there? How can they line up behind you after this... this..” he pointed at Virginius who stared angrily back at him. “Farce” he finished, rounding on Sergius with a deep glare of anger.

  “I am returning to Rome for medical support” Sergius said, a glance at Virginius with a curl to his lip.

  “No, he cannot leave, Sir” Virginius added. “A knock to the head is all he has, there is nothing wrong with him.” Virginius felt a pang of fear as he knew that the first man to Rome would spread the word about the attack and garner favour with the Senate and the plebeians, spreading rumours that could ruin the others career. He had to stop this or at least get to Rome first. His mind wheeled as he sought an excuse. “He” he pointed at Sergius. “Requested that I did not support him until he gave the signal, Sir. As I have stated and I will swear it in the Senate house, he gave no signal despite the fact that on several occasions I rallied the men to support him.”

  “Rubbish” cried Sergius. “We’ve been over this you jumped up...”

  “Gentlemen” yelled Honorius, his voice booming. He took a breath. “I would send both of you back to Rome if I didn’t need you, however pathetic you are, here. Sergius, get to your tent and report back in one hour. If your wound is still bleeding I will send you to Rome myself.” He turned to Virginius, whose face was a mask of anger and fear, his position suddenly weakened by the Senior Tribune. “You and your men are on wall duty tonight. No I will not answer any more of your questions” he said l
oudly as Virginius motioned to speak. He shook his head angrily, his eyes red-rimmed from shouting. “Get out, both of you.” He called as he stomped back to his chair and sat heavily in it.

  “Orderly” he called as a man rushed in, his face solemn as he stared at the back of the tent. “Fetch a messenger at once and prepare two horses, I need to get a message to the Senate immediately.”

  ****

  The news of the death of hundreds of Romans at Veii and the behaviour of two of its Military Tribunes reached the City within a day. The Senate had called an emergency meeting and as leader of the Senate Servilius Ahala had given no reason for the meeting, simply calling it as urgent. Within an hour of sending the message to the Senators there was a knock on the door of his house on the Capitoline Hill, a great booming sound which echoed through his atrium and caused his wife to grip her weaving in fear.

  “Open up Ahala” came the cry as the Senate leader stood from his seat at his desk in the study and walked, with some trepidation, to the doorway. His door slave had just slammed the portal closed after peeking out to see who was at the door at this early hour.

  “Well?”

  “Many men, Sir. With Apuleius and that other plebeian tribune” the slave replied with a look of fear.

  Two burly bodyguards appeared from the kitchen area, cudgels and daggers in hand. Ahala smiled to them. “I’m sure I am not to be murdered in my own house” he said as he moved to the door.

  “Open the door slowly” he said as he took a deep breath and raised his chin to stare haughtily at the crowd as their faces appeared in the gap as the doorway opened and the light fell into the atrium.

  “There he is” called a deep voice as a chorus of booing rang around the road outside his house. Fifty or sixty men and women stood in the road, the women starting to wail and pull at their hair as the Senator appeared in his doorway.

  “What is this Apuleius? Why do you bring these people to my door?” he called above the noise of the crowd, two of the men spitting at him as they drew closer and were pushed back by the bodyguards who had slipped into the space in front of their master.

  Apuleius looked at Ahala with a serene face, his eyes not moving from those of the man at whom he stared. “Tell these women that it is not true?” he asked theatrically. “That their children are not killed by the incompetence of the patrician Tribunes, men not fit to carry the title and not fit to lead even babes in arms into battle.”

  Ahala cursed inside but kept his face straight as he looked beyond the plebeian tribune into the crowd. Men stared at him with hatred in their eyes. He made a mental note to have the messenger whipped and tortured.

  “A report has been received Apuleius” he replied in a level tone “and will be read at the meeting of the Senate this morning.”

  “And can the plebeians attend this meeting? These people whose sons have died at the hands of poorly led armies must have recompense for their deaths” he added with a sweep of his arm. “If the reports I hear are true” he looked at Ahala with a smirk “then the Tribunes owe these people compensation for the deaths of their sons. Deaths which could have been avoided. Deaths which add to the slavery of our people at Veii. Slavery which is causing pain, suffering and hardship to the citizens of our great city. You, Senator, must allow the plebeian tribunes to come to your meeting and to hear what words are in your report. It is our right as citizens of the Republic to have a say in the outcome of this latest disaster.” He finished with a cold stare at the Senator as loud agreement came from the men at his back whilst the women continued to lament, some falling to their knees and raising their arms to the skies.

  Ahala stared at Apuleius and took a moment to think. The plebeians were growing in power and this incident could cause a major riot if not handled properly. He glanced again at the women, noting that one he had seen acting in a performance in the forum only days before. Paid, he thought, not the real mothers, but he knew that the real mothers would be far more vocal and would call upon all the gods to curse the leaders of this ill-gotten campaign against Veii. Why was this city so blessed? What was it about Veii that made it so difficult to break? He looked back to the plebeian tribune, noting his impatient look.

  “The plebeian tribunes can attend the meeting. I will have the order sent” he barked as he turned and walked back into his house.

  Apuleius grinned as he turned to the men around him, each one cheering as they clapped him on the back and raised his arm, cheering his name.

  Across the road Manlius stood in the shadows and smiled. Apuleius was gaining power and he must do something about it. He considered, for a moment, removing the man, but decided that he needed to keep his potential enemies close and widen his net of spies. With that thought in his head he fell in behind the cheering crowd as they headed back towards the forum.

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  Chapter 11

  It had taken three days to call the two Tribunes to Rome, Sergius arriving early as his head had continued to cause problems. On arrival both men had vehemently berated the other, calling each other cowards and fools and telling different stories of the loss at Veii.

  The trial had lasted a further two days, each man standing proudly before the Senate and the plebeian tribunes and denying all counts against them, blaming the other for incompetence and inability to lead men. The Senate was at a loss and Ahala had called a final sitting to finish the matter, his anger rising as he had listened to the arguments each man had put forwards.

  The meeting was being held in the high ceilings of the Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus, high on the prow of the hill above the city with a view of the snaking Tiber below. The temple was sacred to Jupiter, Juno and Minerva and highly coloured statues adorned the terraces along the front of the building, flowers and baskets of fruit laid along its frontage in devotion to the gods.

  Jupiter’s statue sat in the middle of Juno and Minerva, his eyes staring down as the people gathered around the temple to await news of the decision against the two Tribunes, both of whom remained steadfast in their refusal to accept any blame. The roof of the building contained Jupiter driving a quadriga, a chariot drawn by four horses, said to have been created by the finest sculptor in Veii a generation ago before the current crisis.

  Outside thousands thronged in the streets, the noise growing as sellers of meats and breads mingled with the common people of Rome. Bodyguards had cleared spaces for the rich patricians to enter the Temple and then sat on the steps waiting for them to return.

  Inside Marcus and Lucius sat along the front row of the left hand side of the temple, its two hundred paces frontage one of the only buildings that could hold all the Senators and the plebeian Tribunes for this meeting.

  So far the discussions had not changed, each man denying any guilt and calling the gods to punish them if they saw any error in what they said. Ahala and the two leading Senators stood, the crowd coming to silence at the movement. Looking around at the faces before him, he spoke.

  “We have listened to many days of argument and counter argument and come to our decision” he said with a look to his left and right as the other Senators nodded. “The Senate has agreed that both Tribunes were culpable for their actions and loss of men at Rome” he glanced at both men who remained stoic as they stared at him. “And because of their inability to support each other they will be removed from office immediately” he said as men stood, some waving their fists and other s cheering and berating the two soldiers.

  Ahala called loudly for silence, the Temple reverberating with noise as he tried to calm the Senate. On his right Apuleius and Decius, the two plebeians looked to each other and smiled, their faces showing how they believed this was a great success for their continued arguments against the patrician leaders.

  As Ahala continued to call for silence Sergius raised a hand and turned to face the rows of men behind and to his side, his jaw set firm as his eyes scanned those who were cheering and noted who they were
.

  “Senators” he said, his voice loud but not shouting. He glanced to Virginius who frowned at his theatrics and turned his head away. The noise level began to drop as he stood with one arm raised and a deep frown on his face. “Senators” he said in a lower tone as he turned back to Ahala with a short smile on his face. Marcus nudged Lucius and nodded towards Javenoli who was scribbling in a wax tablet, his usual method of recording everything so that he could relive the events and plot schemes against those who differed from his views. He smiled at the thought of how he had once acted as the man’s scribe before returning his attention to the Tribune standing in front of him.

  “As Tribune of the Republic I understand our laws and I know the feelings of the people. I understand that this situation” he sneered at Virginius “is deplorable” he said with feeling in his voice.

  “But” he said more loudly, suddenly capturing the attention of the assembled nobles of the Republic. “By law as Tribune I still retain the right of veto.” A shout of indignation came from the back of the room, several heads turning to see who had called out in disgust. Another voice called back that this was right and proper as Sergius raised his arm again and turned back to Ahala. “I veto this resolution” he said. Roman law was such that as long as one of the Tribunes disagreed with the decision made by the Republican leaders they could not enact such a decision. Virginius smiled but inside he cursed. Why had he not thought of this action.

  “You cannot be serious” Ahala called as men began to rant at the two Tribunes, calling them cowards and murderers as Ahala waved for silence.

  Marcus shook his head and whispered to Lucius “Dictator?” at which his brother raised his eyebrows and nodded thoughtfully. At times of dispute the Republic had one final act it could use to resolve such issues, the appointment of a Dictator. The Republic only chose such a role in times of dire need as it gave all encompassing power to one man for up to six months, a power which was as close to that of a King that Rome would ever allow. Other voices were mouthing the same thought as Sergius continued to stare around the room, his hand in the air.