Capitolinus remained standing as he seemed to think through the words Javenoli had spoken. His eyes became like two slits before he appeared to relax. He moved to re-seat himself. After a few moments silence he looked up. “Forgive me Gaius” he said, his voice almost a whisper as he pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “I have been a fool to say such hateful words.” He looked up and caught the consternation in Javenoli’s face. “My frustration overcomes my rational thinking” he said. “Was it not always the way?” he asked.
“It happens to us all” Javenoli replied quickly, his voice suddenly light and friendly, though his eyes told a different story.
Capitolinus sat, his head bowed as he considered his next words. “You must, still, think me a fool, my friend. Yet I beg your forgiveness” he said, moving on quickly as he stood, having only just sat in the chair. “One thing; I need funds to pay the Thracian” he said. “He is spying on Cossus for me” he said, his head moving quickly up to look at the old man as he spoke “for us” he added with a smile.
Javenoli nodded and moved towards the rear of the room and slipped behind a curtain, reappearing a moment later with a leather pouch which he handed to Capitolinus. “I will think on your words, but I do not see how our plans built through fear and hunger on the Capitol, can become reality now. Politics are power, Capitolinus, not kingly titles.” Capitolinus turned a glance towards Javenoli at this, questions burning behind his eyes. “But the gods love you” stated the Pontifex, “and we must follow whatever path they divine for you. If that path leads to ultimate power” he shrugged. “If not?” he shrugged again, “then we must profit from the journey.”
“I understand” said his guest slowly. “I will be strong in my faith for Jupiter” he said, his right hand striking his chest across his heart. “Jupiter will guide me, guide us” he added quickly. “Tomorrow we must talk again, clear the air from my hateful, irrational words. I apologise again my friend” he said as he moved with purpose towards the door and pulled at the handle. With a final look, and nod, to Javenoli he slipped through and left.
Javenoli sat on the couch and let out a deep breath, the heat of his anger starting to rise in his face now that Capitolinus had left. The man was a fool, but the gods loved him. He looked at the row of statues along the back wall of the room and stood to walk across to them before he stopped and turned towards the curtain where he had collected the money pouch.
“What did you think?” he asked quietly.
A figure stepped from behind the curtain where a small door stood open. They locked eyes for a moment before she spoke.
“From what you’ve told me, my love” Pompeia said slowly as she draped an arm over Javenoli’s shoulder, “he is afflicted with the curse.” She moved around Javenoli and let her hand slip to his. “He is gripped by fear. Fear that he is not worthy. Fear that the gods will change their love to someone else before he gains a power that he cannot articulate. Fear that you will betray him” she added as Javenoli flicked his eyes to hers and looked deeply into them. She opened her eyes wider as she spoke. “He is not strong like you are, my love” she said kissing his cheek slowly and sensually. “He craves power, but I cannot see him holding such power. He is cursed by indecision, by seeing snakes in every corner, as he said. He trusts nobody, not even you” she said as Javenoli nodded his agreement. “That lack of trust will be his downfall” she added. “And remember what you said. My love. You were there on that day. You were part of Jupiter’s plan for Rome. Maybe it is you that Jupiter wishes to bestow his love upon. You follow the signs that the gods give to other, but you ignore the signs that are staring you in the face, Gaius.” she whispered into his ear as she stroked his cheek with a bejewelled finger. “Maybe it is you that Jupiter is smiling upon.”
Javenoli looked at her for a moment, his head nodding slowly as he thought about her words. “But Capitolinus is also beloved of Jupiter, I am certain of it. My mind says I should remove him, but I dare not act against the will of Jupiter and cause his wrath to fall on me” Javenoli said slowly. “Though I must put other plans in place first to make sure that my interests are protected” he added as he looked across to Pompeia. “My father once told me that the best way to ensure you were always lucky was to make sure that you followed the men to whom the gods showed favour, and to then turn that favour to your advantage. But” he added as he turned back towards the doorway “he also told me that knowing when to move on was the hardest part of remaining lucky.”
Pompeia smiled.
“I think Capitolinus’ luck has just run out, but I must follow my instincts as I’ve invested heavily in this one” he added glumly. “I will need to be cautious. He has many followers who would know if I made a move against him” he said quietly. “There is a meeting of the Capitol men tomorrow and I must check how our business deals move before I make my final decision. If the love of Jupiter is linked to both if us, and not one of us, I cannot act against him until I am certain.”
“Then that’s settled” Pompeia said as she stroked Javenoli’s face and kissed his cheek slowly once again, his eyes smiling as she did so. “And tomorrow I am hosting a party for the women at Vispania’s house, so we will know all the gossip” she laughed.
“So, we are agreed on one thing” he added, eyes wide. “Capitolinus will never be King of Rome.”
“Rome does not need a king” she replied. “But every Roman citizen needs someone to look up to as if they were a king. The difference is subtle, but powerful.”
************
Chapter 10
Marcus wiped a bead of sweat from his brow as he watched the soldiers move into neat rows in front of him. The Etruscan leaders had appeared on the road behind the Romans and sat on their mounts directing the vast army that followed them. Swirling dust hid the details of the swarm of men as they moved into the typical Etruscan formation, the bull. The horns sat astride a deep central body of men, the long spears of the front ranks visible above the cloud of sand and dirt that was being kicked up by their manoeuvres. His own officers sat, or stood, near his position as he watched the enemy prepare its battle lines. Glancing to his own men he saw nervous faces watching the vast number of Etruscans as they set up their formation. He looked back at the enormous horde that had followed them for the past two hours and tightened his jaw. The sun was past mid-day and the heat still fierce. Men drank from water pouches as he had ordered, but they were still out in the open and supplies would soon diminish. The chosen location was perfect, too much rocky ground for a phalanx to out-flank his forces and one channel into his front lines which was no more than three or four hundred paces across. If the Etruscans followed the ‘bull’ approach they would still struggle to get horses and men around the flanks due to the terrain. If they attempted to do so within the narrow confines of the land in front of them they would be restricted, and he planned to use that to his advantage.
“The bull” Aemilius said quietly as others murmured the same.
Marcus glanced to him and then looked back out at the scene. The Etruscan general had started to set up his lines the moment the Romans had stopped their forced retreat and started to be shepherded into the lines that Narcius had set up. Clearly the Etruscan leader was convinced he had the superior numbers and that a quick battle would suit their interests better in the heat. Marcus surmised that a mad charge directly at his front was what would happen as soon as all the men had gotten into position. He smiled. The bull was the simplest form of attack with overwhelming numbers and had an enormous success rate. It comprised of a swift approach with the bulk of the men, followed by the horns circling the enemy and blocking their retreat. It was a classic move, but one he thought the Etruscans would only use if they could maximise the landscape and the numerical superiority.
He’d ensured that the priests had completed sacrifices as soon as they had stopped to set up their own position and had dedicated the day to Mars. Sitting back on his horse to afford a good view he’d call
ed the officers across to view the approaching enemy.
“Options, gentlemen?” he asked quietly as he continued to watch the patterns the swirling dust made. He’d set up the front ranks into two long lines, spears and shields to repel the initial advance. Behind that were three dense squares of men, very much in the old Etruscan style, which he hoped would confirm to the enemy that he was preparing what was referred to as a standard block defence. He smiled again.
“We have little choice with our numbers than to try and hold them back until dark and then March through the night into the hills” said a disconsolate voice.
Marcus looked at the speaker and nodded. “Anything more helpful from anyone else?” he asked. The speaker’s cheeks reddened under his bearded face as his shoulders tensed. The officers glanced to each other in silence for a moment as they watched the dancing dust cloud surrounding the Etruscan army continue to shift.
“Twenty thousand farmers with nothing more than a few thousand veteran soldiers” growled the deep voice of Laminitus, the young officer who had ridden with Marcus. Eyes moved to him and Marcus watched the faces of the men around him as his dour voice continued. “But with those numbers against our six...” his voice tailed off into a cold silence.
Marcus held his tongue as the men shuffled under the weight of the silence. What had gotten into the men he wondered as he clenched his teeth and glanced over his shoulder at the Roman forces. Narcius had set up the defensive position exactly as ordered. Two lines in front, a shield wall of spears. Three squares of men in tight formation, a typical defence. His eyes glanced to the rows of wagons behind the blocks of soldiers and then back to the two lines of men at the front. He smiled again. Exactly as he had ordered. On both wings sat the cavalry, Ahala with his orders already given.
A trumpet from the Etruscans caused him to stare back at the enemy, squinting to see what was happening. Five horses walked slowly towards them as a wave of sound rose from their backs. The Etruscan chief was coming to gloat. “Let’s go and hear what he has to say” Marcus said as his knees steered his mount forward. Several of the officers moved with him and, slowly, sauntered towards the centre ground, with a centurion and twenty men trotting along behind. He turned back towards the lines of Romans and let his eyes wander along the defence, his thoughts going through how the enemy would perceive their position, how he would attack if he were them. He saw exactly what he wanted them to see. His eyes moved to the sky and his thoughts turned to Fortuna. Was she still with him? Could he rely on the luck of the gods to support him again? Tapping his sword hilt three times he chewed the stubble on his lower lip with his front teeth, the short, thick, hairs rasping at his nervous movement. Gods he thought. What is wrong with us? Whatever melancholy had settled on Aemilius’ army seemed to have caught them all in its grip. He shook his head at the thought. Time to trust the gods and their plans for Rome, he said to himself, looking at the nervous faces around him, and attempting to judge each man’s mood.
“Sit taller” he snapped in a low voice. “Show these dogs that we are their masters and they deserve nothing but contempt for their uprising” he added as he stared at each officer in turn. He noted how young every man seemed. Gone were the tough old veteran officers he’d marched with over the past few years, replaced by these green saplings who bent whichever way the wind blew. Time to give them strong roots, he thought as he grinned at one young face, sweating under his bronze helmet. A thought came to Marcus as he looked at the man, his head moving from side to side as he glanced to the others, their armour slightly different, the coloured sash on some denoting their ranks. He considered how the long crests of the old Greek warriors had sent fear into their enemies and a small smile crept to his lips; something for the future, he thought.
The Romans closed on their Etruscan counterparts and Marcus took a moment to glance at them as the five mounted men came to a stop. He noted that two were large men with thick leather chest guards burnished with swirls and patterns depicting some past heroic conflict. Both wore thin bronze arm guards, polished to a high sheen and without a single blemish. He casually glanced at their boots, noting the minimal wear. Ignoring these men, he looked quickly to a wide shouldered, older, man with a well-trimmed greying beard. His eyes were narrowed and darting across the approaching Romans in much the same way that Marcus was appraising them. He smiled, he’d found the leader. Glancing to the remaining two men he quickly noted their easy position on their horses. Noblemen who were used to long days in the cavalry ranks, so three to think about and two town leaders here for a quick victory, he surmised. The group came to a stop several yards from the Etruscans and both parties took a moment to glance at each other before one of the two men Marcus had thought was a town leader lifted his chin and looked down his long nose at the Romans before he spoke, his voice a deep booming sound which made two of the horses skitter slightly as he half yelled his words.
“Romans” he started as his teeth showed off-white in his dark beard. “I am...” but before he could say anything else Marcus nudged his horse forward and caused him to gulp back his words as a startled look crossed his face and he grappled for his sword. Both cavalry men moved across to block any move towards the grey bearded man as Marcus turned his eyes on the older Etruscan who had also half drawn his sword but remained, otherwise, calm.
With his hands up by his shoulders, fingers splayed, Marcus spoke. “There is no need for pleasantries” he said directly to the grey-bearded man. “Turn your men back to their fields and Rome will forget this uprising. Stay” he smirked “and Rome will have no option but to put every man to the sword.” At this he leant forward and stroked the smooth neck of his horse, his calmness causing each of the town leaders to grip their reins tightly as they turned to the older man with shocked expressions.
“We hear you burnt the camp of my uncle” came the slow reply of the grey beard, his eyes like slits as his teeth ground together. “Such arrogance you Romans have. You take our lands, tax our families, take our gods in all but name and still you want more.” He shook his head slowly as bitterness filled his eyes. Marcus looked back at him coldly before he continued. “We outnumber you three to one. Yes, I have heard of you Marcus Furius who they call Camillus.” He grinned before licking his lips and nodding with a glance towards the awaiting Roman army. “Unbeatable they say. Well today” he shrugged with a slow look over his shoulder at his army “we’ll see.” At this he clicked his tongue and turned his mare as he called back “as you gave my uncle no quarter, neither will we show you any mercy.”
Marcus grinned as he watched the Etruscans walk slowly back towards their waiting men. Within seconds the vast army thrust their spears in the air and screamed death to the Romans. As Marcus continued to watch the enemy his officers shifted nervously on their horses, clearly fearful of being caught in open ground. “Tell me what you see Laminitus” he asked as the young officer moved forwards and Marcus gave him an appraising stare.
He stared open-mouthed at the battle lines, sharp iron glinting in the afternoon sun. The Etruscan leaders were nearly at their own lines and his eyes flicked left and right. He glanced nervously to Aemilius, who looked as calm as Camillus, his eyes wide with expectation as he looked back to the younger man. “I see the enemy ranged to approach in the bull formation” he started, his throat suddenly very dry. “Cavalry set behind the flanks and spears in the centre” he added, his voice wavering.
“Laminitus we are not at your Greek tutor’s lesson and I am not scoring your reply. Look again before they attack. Find me their weakness” he said calmly, at which he looked to a centurion whose grin had spread across his face as he looked back at the enemy who had begun cheering more loudly now that their leaders had reached the front ranks of soldiers and stopped to shout a curse at the Romans.
Laminitus began to sweat and wiped a drip of water from his nose. “Yes, sir” he added quickly as his eyes moved more urgently across the scene in front of him. Silence stretched as his hands wrung the rei
ns he held and he struggled to find any weakness. Aemilius was about to speak when Marcus shook his head to him and spoke quietly. “Come; let’s not get caught out here. Laminitus do you see the weapons of the men in the centre of their formation” he asked as they set off. The officer looked back over his shoulder.
“Don’t look back.” Marcus chided. “Commit the picture to memory. Know your enemy and know his strength. If it is not a strength, it’s a weakness. Tell me again what you saw”.
“Spears, massed ranks and several lines deep” replied the young man, knowing the inadequacy of his reply. Marcus nodded and turned to glance at the centurion.
“The trick is to see what the enemy doesn’t want you to see” he said as he moved closer to the young officer. “And the other trick is to ask your men to tell you what they see so that you can buy yourself time and check if you’ve missed anything. Centurion Castus, your thoughts please?” he asked as the man nodded.
The King of Rome Page 15
