The King of Rome

by Francis Mulhern

  Marcus continued despite the growing murmurs which spread across the room. “As dictator, I would set up a series of messenger stations to ease the communication lines across the army, a weakness which has cost us dearly before. I will lead the attack on the Volscans, who are moving towards Lanuvium. They have the most men and the best soldiers, so we must advance quickly on them to stop them reaching the Etruscans and Hernici at Bolae.” He turned to Javenoli and smiled. “The gods asked us to defend Rome with the same auspices as it was redeemed” he said as he gripped his toga tightly with his right hand across his breast. “As dictator, I vow to complete every ritual that the gods require, never to fail in my duty to them and to offer one tenth of the spoils of our conquests to the gods. These are the auspices I agreed with the gods as I marched to save Rome when you” his eyes circled the room “the leaders who were held upon the Capitol asked me to lead our armies to defeat the invaders.” He took a moment to look out at the faces in the room before continuing. “The second legion will hold the enemy and we will combine forces to destroy them when I have defeated their forces at Lanuvium, as I will. News of our success will put fear in their hearts gentlemen, and we will over run them.”

  Nodding heads and silence greeted the final words as Javenoli caught Capitolinus’ eye and frowned at the look of malice that he was giving to Camillus. Someone must have given Camillus information regarding our plans Javenoli thought as he let out a slow breath and clenched his teeth, his mind running through whom the spy might be. Camillus and his men had fingers in as many schemes as Javenoli and, somehow, he had gained the upper hand.

  Men rose from their seats and clapped as one, the movement setting off a tidal wave of clapping and cheering as the master of ceremonies slapped his wooden cane on the table to call for silence. “Gentlemen, gentlemen” he called, his voice growing louder as the sound of the cane reverberated around the room. “Gentlemen, we must vote. Gentlemen” he called as the crowd began to settle.

  Capitolinus stared at his brother; Aulus not turning to catch his eye despite his older sibling’s eyes burning in his direction. Javenoli stood, grim faced, and turned to glance at Capitolinus as he, too, stood slowly without taking his eyes from his brother, as he realised his argument was lost.

  How had it all turned against him, Capitolinus thought. He looked at Marcus and his eyes narrowed. If he was to achieve his ultimate plans then Camillus must be removed, or discredited, of that there was now no doubt. But he knew that Javenoli was procrastinating. The man didn’t sense the urgency of their need. Capitolinus frowned, his mind turning like a mill stone as it ground at small thoughts which started to come together into certainty. Javenoli was backing out of their deal. Had he informed Camillus of their plans? Was he double-crossing him? He felt an anger start to gnaw into his stomach as he went over all their plans, each one thwarted at the last moment, but at every turn Javenoli had profited from everything they had done.

  *****

  Cincinnatus watched as Javenoli left through the newly painted door of the senate building. He tapped his fingers against the stick he carried as both a walking aide and a weapon to fight off the beggars and thieves who loitered around the forum and slopes of the surrounding hills. The room fell silent, only a few small peals of laughter coming from the leaving men as they meandered out of the Curia. Four men remained, each slowly moving towards the doorway, but clearly loitering for a reason. Cincinnatus rose and nodded to a shaven headed bodyguard who was watching from the frame of the door. The man stepped into the building and slowly pulled the door closed behind him.

  The remaining men gathered quickly and turned expectant faces to the older senator. “Tonight” said Cincinnatus. “Orphus will send word to your appointed men” he nodded to the bald-headed thug who stood by the door, one eye still heavy with bruising which suggested his violet approach to his work. “I want the houses burned and the men beaten, no deaths though” he added with a shake of his head, “we need them to know they can’t mess with us, but we need them to pay their debt.” The men eyed each other warily, but nodded solemnly in reply.

  “What of Javenoli?” asked a sunken eyed man with thin hair and pale, pock-marked, skin. “Won’t he be angry that we’re moving in on his ground?”

  “Leave Javenoli to me” Cincinnatus said with a smile. “He doesn’t own everything in Rome, and he’s not the only one with a business to protect.” He turned to the men and looked down his long nose at them. “Anyway, you can rest assured that he knows nothing of your involvement in our schemes Pallus, or any of you others. Rest assured that you take your profits without any of the risk.” He smiled as the men looked to each other and nodded. “I have another plan which you men may also be interested in, for a fee of course” he added with a shrug. “Come to my house tomorrow night, tell your wives and friends you’ve been invited to play dice and talk of old war stories” he said as he turned and began to move towards the door. “Bring” he shrugged again “five hundred each if you are interested” he said, knowing that such a sum would be too much for some, but enough to tempt them to come to him and ask for a loan. He rubbed his hands together; he had a lot to thank the Gaul’s for. Wealth was as easy to gather as the wheat in the fields.

  ************

  Chapter 5

  Two days after the legion movements had been set in motion by the senate and the armies had left the city, the hollow pipe music drifted through the peristylium, the open courtyard garden at the centre of Capitolinus’ house, giving a quiet sense of calm to what was becoming a gathering throng of noisy visitors. Groups of colourfully clad women stood by newly flowered shrubs and well-appointed flower beds which had burst into life only days earlier. Spring had arrived early for Rome, the recent warm weather bringing all manner of multi-coloured life budding across the city, and Vispania was delighted that the effort she had gone to in order to prepare the garden had been worth it. She smiled benevolently at the older lady who was chit-chatting about the growing hot weather and pointing to the purple fringed flowers which adorned the bush by which they were standing. In truth Vispania was bored and was already looking for a way to politely excuse herself from the drab Atia, wife of Lucius Mercurius, with whom she had been stuck for the past twenty minutes.

  Her gathering had quickly split into the various groups that always happened within such functions, with those women who had been on the Capitol settling by the, recently lowered, west wall where you could just make out the head and shoulders of the statue of Jupiter atop his Temple on the Capitol Hill. Her husband had had the foresight to lower the wall so that anyone entering the garden would see that Jupiter himself was watching over the Manlius Capitolinus family from his position above them. Capitolinus had set a small alcove within the wall just below the lowered rim with a wooden carving of the god raising his right arm in the air in the heroic pose nestled inside, his body wearing Roman military uniform and with several geese at his feet.

  Atia spoke again and Vispania realised she hadn’t been listening and turned awkwardly to her guest. “I’m sorry Atia, was that guests at the door?” she said, the older woman frowning at her as she clearly hadn’t heard any such sound. She turned her head, exhaling slowly as she noted one of the house slaves approaching, eyes to the floor as she moved slowly across past Caecilla and Prisca, with whom Vispania wished to discuss a juicy piece of gossip she had recently overheard. Both women raised their eyebrows as Vispania rolled her eyes towards Atia and the ladies bent their heads together to hide their smiles.

  “Mistress” said the half-whispered voice of the slave girl, her dark hair tied tightly behind her head and a yellow ribbon loosely flowing down her back.

  “What is it?” the mistress snapped, her frustration evident to the slave.

  “Mistress, the Pontifex Maximus has arrived” replied the girl, her eyes glancing up momentarily as Vispania’s mouth fell open. The Pontifex had sent his apologies only the morning before and Vispania had been in a fit of anger as she had arr
anged for several local widows to attend the gathering and whom she wished to introduce to Javenoli. She had berated her husband, telling him that he must go to Javenoli and ensure he attended, but Capitolinus had simply replied that he was not the man’s keeper and if he didn’t wish to attend her gathering it was not his issue to deal with. But now he was here. She gripped the slaves arm and smiled as she turned to Atia and the other older ladies and made a quick apology before striding across the garden to the inner atrium, noting with satisfaction the eyes of the gathered women watching as he strode, with purpose, towards the house.

  As she entered the darker passageway she saw her husband conversing quietly with Javenoli, both men appearing tense and ill at ease.

  “Don’t be a fool” she heard Javenoli snap at Capitolinus. “Remember Hubris, the gods will be watching and..” he said, before Capitolinus leant across the man and said more vociferously “hubris has a place for those not already chosen by the gods” before noticing Vispania approaching and turning with a broad grin.

  “Ah, here she is” called Capitolinus loudly as she approached. “Gaius has come to your gathering after all” he added with a measure of sarcasm which Vispania noted was etched across Javenoli’s face. “He seems to have found a desire to meet all the young women you have lined up to greet him” he added as he placed a hand on the Pontifex’s shoulder and ushered him forwards with a push.

  Vispania ignored her husband’s comments and greeted Javenoli warmly as she smiled at Capitolinus, whose face had grown serious as soon as he had finished speaking. The old Senator looked every year of his age as his red-rimmed eyes and light-skinned face smiled back at her. Vispania felt a sudden pang of sorrow for the man at the same time that she wondered just which of the younger women at the gathering would actually look at such a face and find anything other than a mild sense of revulsion in it. He was rich, though, she thought; that would smooth away some of the revulsion. The Senator turned Pontifex had been the saviour of many on the Capitol during the incarceration by the Gaul’s, and it had been somewhat of a coup to have been able to inform her growing acquaintances that he would attend her gathering. How annoyed she had been only yesterday to receive his apologies, and how that old hag Sulpicia and her cronies had crowed when they arrived earlier and were informed that the Pontifex had been called away on urgent business and would not be attending. Well now, however tired the old man was, she could turn this into a small triumph. She beamed at her husband and gripped Javenoli’s arm tightly, clasping it to her side as she began to lead him towards the garden.

  “Don’t listen to Marcus, Gaius” she said with a smile to her, following, husband. “The gathering is only for the women to meet, talk and discuss our latest weaving designs and hair styles” she said as Javenoli curled his lip and attempted to smile.

  “I only have a half an hour free” he tried to say as Capitolinus nudged him forwards again and grinned back at him.

  “They won’t bite” he laughed as he strode ahead of Vispania and stepped into the sunlight clapping his hands and calling for attention. All faces turned towards him and he stepped across to stand in front of the statue of Jupiter in the alcove.

  “Ladies” he said, his eyes roving the thirty or so attendants of the gathering. “I am pleased to inform you that our good friend Gaius Javenoli has joined us after all. He’s found a slot in his busy day and will only be with us for half an hour, but I am delighted he joins us here today. My wife also has an announcement to make.” He nodded to his wife as a series of mutterings and giggles came from around the garden and Vispania, her face beaming with pride held up one hand, her other still clutching Javenoli as if he were a fish that would swim back out to sea if she let him go.

  The un-married daughters and widows of Rome’s senior families, their mothers standing close to them as if they were bodyguards, all turned to Vispania, who noted the angry look on Sulpicia’s face and her smile broadened. She beckoned to a small dark-haired child, her mother striding forwards at her side before coming to stand next to Vispania as they both smiled and nodded. “The Pontifex” she said with a small bow towards Javenoli. “Has just informed me that my niece, Alurrica, has been accepted into the order of the Vestals. The first Manlius for over three generations” she said, her glance at Sulpicia not missed by the angry faced woman. A round of applause and congratulations rose from the assembled women as Javenoli nodded and attempted to smile under the curious gazes from all those around him.

  ************

  The horn blew a shrill note and the army stepped forwards again, kicking off the dust from their sandals and moving swiftly into the tree-lined hills which led across the farmlands towards Lanuvium. The first ranks had moved past Marcus before he turned to Narcius and nodded, the first spear centurion saluted and turned smartly to join the men of his cohort as they marched along in the second file of men.

  The army had been marching for four hours before they had taken a mid-day rest to recover from the gruelling march and beating sun. The shade of a few trees and an opportune stream had been the perfect place for the men to relax. Marcus had inspected the baggage, with the new consignment of scorpions strung to several carts, as well as talking to several centurions to see how the men fared. Narcius had, as usual, complained that the majority of men were unfit and needed several weeks’ solid training to get them into fighting shape, but Marcus had dismissed this as his way of keeping the other centurions on their toes. It had certainly had an effect on centurion Crastinus, who had turned a shade of purple at the suggestion but had managed to hold back any of the comments which were clearly forming in his mind. He agreed with Narcius that healthy competition was a good thing, but he had reminded the first spear that there was a thin line between healthy competition and resentment. He thought of Mella for a moment. There was a man who could charm the soldiers into healthy competition without resentment. He missed his old sword master and wondered, again, how he had met his death amongst the Gaul’s. His body had been found at the bottom of the Tarpeian Rock, his crushed skull and broken neck testament to a fall.

  “Sir” came the smart call from one of the men sat atop his dark bay behind Marcus. He turned to look across at the cavalry officer and saw that he was pointing away to the front, the direction in which the men were marching. Ahala, his three red feathers in his bronze helmet, came cantering across to where Marcus was watching the legion file past. Marcus smiled at the master of horse and second in command as he came to a stop beside him and saluted smartly.

  “The scouts have reported that the Volsci are moving slowly through the forest beyond the hill at the town of Cascia” he said as he licked his lips and shook his right wrist, wincing slightly with the pain that riding was causing him. “It seems they are still unaware that we are marching to intercept them” he added quickly as he looked to Marcus.

  “So, two days to Lanuvium?” Marcus asked thoughtfully as he brought his gaze back to Ahala.

  “At the most” came the reply from Ahala. “If they take the traditional route along the river they will come out by the ford at Cascia which leads to the old trader’s road. With that many soldiers they can’t really go any other way” he added with a shrug. “From there they will have to cross the low front of the Alban Hills before they cross the hills to Lanuvium. They are heading directly North East towards Praeneste and we can catch them a half day before they reach Lanuvium. If Aemilius is on time his legion will be ten miles to our left and will engage the forces from the Hernici a full half day after we finish with the Volsci” he added quickly as Marcus nodded his understanding. Ahala was saying that if they defeated the Volsci quickly they would be able to support Aemilius and his legion. Marcus nodded slowly as his mind raced through options, seeing the forest in his mind and running through ideas as Ahala studied him with narrowed eyes. Marcus’ legion faced the stronger fighting force and it would be a hard-fought battle. Aemilius, on the other hand, wasn’t tested, but he had the job of holding back what was likely to be
superior numbers of farmers and villagers. Marcus cogitated the options for a moment before speaking.

  “Send word to Aemilius to tell him what we are planning” he said with a smile as Ahala’s face split into a grin. “And tell him that if he can he should hold the Hernici and wait for us to support him” he added.

  ************

  “This is Ulpia Frantini, daughter of Valerius Coscus Frantini of Frentani” Vispania said slowly as Javenoli bowed to the thirty-something year old woman who was being introduced to him. He had already forgotten her name, along with every other woman and girl he had been introduced to over the last ten minutes of being paraded like a sacrificial bull around the garden. His thoughts jumped to the word Frentani and he remembered a particularly nasty battle there thirty years ago when the Romans had subdued the mostly Greek town to the east. The woman tried to hold his eyes but he flicked them away, her lips were too tight and he felt he knew she would have a nasty temper behind her half-smile and red-painted cheeks. So far none of the maidens he had been introduced to had given him anything other than a suspicion that he would be happier continuing to bed his serving slaves or those higher paid women he kept in his best establishments across the city.

  Nodding to the mother as well as the daughter he moved on into the crowd of women, his eyes scanning the faces of all the people around him. He caught a glance of a dark eyed woman standing alone by one of the many raised wooden flower beds, her dark hair braided tightly to her head, the multi coloured beads, the old Etruscan style, making her eyes appear large and round, the eyelashes dark and dangerous. He glanced again, but she was gone. He turned his head to look for her, searching for the dark green dress and black beaded necklace which she wore draped around her white throat, but he couldn’t see her. He frowned, quickly changing his expression to a warm smile as he was introduced to Placidia, the fifteen year old widow of a man who had been killed at the battle of the Allia, her shy face alluring but her eyes showing that she still bore the scars of her loss and didn’t relish the thought of a near sixty year old man in her bed. Javenoli smiled benevolently and said “I knew your father my dear, a great man” to which the girl smiled quickly before glancing to her mother and burying her chin in her chest.