“It can only mean” Javenoli picked up the vellum scroll, ages old, which had been inscribed with hundreds of previous portents. He pointed out previous years where similar occurrences had been written into the text “that within the city there is a disease of men, something which will rip us apart, a civil war unlike any we have seen before.” He looked to Marcus who was frowning. He handed the vellum across and Marcus looked at the words again, and then at the year. It was the final year of King Tarquin the proud, the year in which the Republic was born. He stared at the words and contemplated their meaning.
“You must be thinking the same as me” Javenoli said quietly. “That the readings point to only one thing; that the leadership of Rome will change.”
Marcus grimaced at the words but didn’t reply for a moment. Shaking his head he spoke quietly “I don’t understand how the readings of the birds can be so fortuitous and the animals so dark” he said as if to himself. “It doesn’t make sense. Yet we’ve looked at the animals, they appear healthy, they eat and drink well, their waste is not watery or foul smelling.” He shook his head slowly as he continued to read the old vellum to look for similar scenario’s though he knew there were none. “The gods of the sky are telling us one thing, and the gods of the earth are telling us another” he said as a light came to his eyes, Javenoli finally relaxing as Marcus had made the connection he intended. Marcus looked to him with a look of shock written across his face.
“What is it?” feigned Javenoli.
Marcus stood and walked the floor, Javenoli smiling at his troubled expression before quickly hiding it under furrowed brows.
“Wait” said Javenoli. “I understand. The gods of the sky and the gods of the land are at war. Jupiter, god of the sky remains strong, his portents for Rome are truly auspicious. That must surely be what the birds and the eagle mean” he added before continuing. “And the gods of the land” he looked up at Marcus “are angry” he said, his cup stopped half way to his gaping mouth as he stared at the younger man who had now come to stand next to the Pontifex.
Marcus nodded. “It would seem that the gods are angry. The readings are clear. The gods of the land are in conflict with the gods of the sky. My friend” Marcus said urgently, slipping into the role of leader which he often did in times of crisis. “We need second opinions from the best priests; we must understand what these messages are saying. The wars go well, but the gods are unhappy with what we are doing with Rome” he said.
“I agree” said Javenoli. “I had feared the same, but I needed to talk to somebody about it. If Jupiter is happy with Rome we should prepare more sacrifices to his glory” Javenoli said “whilst we try to understand what the other gods demand of us. We must make our peace with them, offer them great rewards for our continued glory” he said urgently as Marcus nodded to him. Javenoli placed a hand on his chin, stroking the stubble that he hadn’t shaved from the previous day as he appeared deep in thought. “Jupiter is the king of the gods” he said slowly. “Do you think he is enforcing his rule over the land, strengthening his position as ruler of all the gods?” he asked.
Marcus looked at the Pontifex for a long moment before he paced the room again. “I don’t know” he said. “We need more opinions before we can be certain.”
Javenoli circled like a vulture waiting for the moment to attack, before saying “It is strange, and concerning to me, that the last time such happenings occurred was at the birth of the Republic. Do you think that Jupiter is asserting his strength as the leader of the gods in order to tell us that the Republic needs one leader as there is one ruler of the gods?” he asked as he moved across the room deep in thought.
Marcus came to a stop and turned towards the Pontifex. “Don’t say such a thing; surely this is not the meaning of the portents. The Republic thrives under our new laws and governance. The gods are rewarded handsomely as we defeat our enemies. Our families grow stronger and all the gods are revered by every true Roman.”
Javenoli shrugged. “I only ask the question” he said, the seed sown.
Marcus paced the room, his eyes watching the floor as if he’d lost something precious and couldn’t find it. “No, it cannot be that Gaius. Jupiter and the sacred triumvirate have always been part of a celestial team. No god alone can rule heaven and earth, it is inconceivable.”
“I only ask so that we can discount it” Javenoli furnished, hiding his smile.
Marcus continued his walk as Javenoli sat and sipped at the watered wine once again, waiting for Marcus to ponder the issues he was now facing in his mind.
“It points to a similar change as in the time of the birth of the Republic” he said slowly. “The portents are not exactly the same, but they are similar. The signs must be reviewed closely and discussed by the colleges so that we get the best minds to help us to decipher their meaning.” He looked back at Javenoli. “You may be right, it may be Jupiter asserting his position. Yet it may also be that the struggles in the city, the burning of Iulius’ grain barns, fighting in the streets” he shook his head, the turmoil in his mind showing in his eyes. “Maybe the gods are saying that they are not happy with the way Rome is developing since we won back the city. Maybe the gods want us to change, to expand our city, to never be attacked again?”
Javenoli looked up at this, not expecting this interpretation. “To expand our borders?” he asked, his eyes narrowing in thought. “I can see your point Marcus. Maybe this is a good idea, larger spheres of influence, growing our business interests…” his head was nodding as he spoke.
Marcus looked at Javenoli for a moment. “I must think on this Gaius” he said suddenly, his face showing the fear that Javenoli wanted to sow in his mind. “It is the government elections tomorrow and I must prepare. It seems there may be dark days ahead” he added glumly before catching hold of Javenoli’s hand and shaking it fiercely. “Please, I beg your indulgence; tell me as soon as you have news from the other priests. We must plan for the future in light of these portents.”
“My friend, you will be the first to hear of any news” he said sincerely.
************
Chapter 14
Istros turned and greeted the hooded figure who came to stand next to him in the alleyway, his eyes darting around the scene to check nobody was within earshot.
“Iulius has been to Cincinnatus and asked for a loan to rebuild his stores” whispered Auguronos as he placed his back against the wall and looked out from under his hood at the dark streets outside the alley in which they stood. “He is angry that the investigation found several stalks of barley at the scene of the fire and nobody has yet asked Capitolinus and his followers to explain why they were found there.”
Istros shrugged. Clearly Javenoli’s plan to implicate Capitolinus had taken seed.
“But it shows that the fire was set by Capitolinus’ followers” Auguronos said quickly, his eyes wide at Istros’ lack of acknowledgement.
“Maybe” said Istros. “But tell me what Cincinnatus said.”
“He said the matter was to be brought up at the election meeting tomorrow. They are going to ask him directly if he had anything to do with the fire. And” he added “Cincinnatus has replaced Hix with Regullus to collect his taxes.”
“Good” said the Thracian as he handed over a handful of small coins. “Bring me any more news as soon as you get it.” The younger man turned to leave but Istros placed a hand on his arm. “Wait” he whispered before he moved ahead and slipped around the corner, disappearing into the darkness. Just as Auguronos was starting to grow concerned the Thracian wandered past the alleyway and waved a hand at him to suggest the road was clear.
Istros watched as the man scampered away into the darkness of the city, his feet slapping the stones like a cheap drunkard on his way home. He sighed slowly before he turned towards Javenoli’s palace and contemplated why he had bothered to save the young pups life. Maybe he would still be useful at some future point, but right now he seemed more of a liability than a use, altho
ugh he was a likeable lad with his jovial face and carefree manner. The roads were quiet until he neared the forum where a number of stalls were covered for the night and the owners sat outside with fire pits burning bright orange as men and women sat discussing the day’s business. As he crossed towards the shops which ran across the right edge of the forum, he noticed two men skulking in the shadows of the pillars, moving out of sight as he approached. Turning slowly to the left he kept an eye on them as he wandered along the central road, which was still busy with people despite the late hour. Istros was cautious, a hand on his dagger as he walked whilst he watched the shadows on each side of the road. Every movement caught his eye, his fingers gripping the hilt of his dagger ever more tightly as he watched in case of attack. He considered who might be watching him. It was clear that Javenoli’s enemies would know of his role despite how careful he had been. Rome was a nest of snakes, each man trying to raise himself above the next. Istros smiled at that. These Romans were driven by their un-ending desire to prove themselves worthy in the esteem of their betters. An innocuous wave from a man sat on the steps by the corner of a large wooden framed house caught his eye. Their leader. He grinned. Now all he had to do was lead the dogs away and come back for the pack leader. These brutes would know the back streets as well as he did, but he had the advantage of knowing they were after him, he just needed to know who had sent them.
He took a moment to capture as much information about the leader as he could, memorising his shape, his footwear and his clothes as he couldn’t see his face. Then he edged towards the left and the alleyway which led downhill towards the rougher parts of the city, where he knew he could catch his pursuers. He glanced over his shoulder slowly, seeing three shapes moving across the road, the leader sill sat on the steps but watching him from under his hood. Time to run, he thought, show them he knew they were after him and get them to chase recklessly. Grinning he picked up his heels and darted into the alley, a dog barking wildly as he flung himself along in the darkness. The chasers were after him, distinct slapping of feet audible above the barking canine. Left, right and then right again led him into shadows he knew well, knowing that it was likely the chasing men would split up as it was clear he was heading for the lower docks and the bridge across the Tiber which led to the forest and potential freedom. He hung back a little to check the sounds, glancing over his shoulder to check if three had become two. Sure enough, they had guessed his plan and only two men rounded a corner into the moonlight as he ducked left again, now heading back up the alleyway which led back towards the Capitol. He heard voices which suggested both men were angry at his change of direction and the loss of the third man, but they didn’t deviate from their intent and followed him still. He drew his dagger, pulling a second smaller knife from a hidden scabbard in the small of his back, a knife that had saved his life more than once. His mind raced three turns ahead as he planned his next move.
The two men were catching slowly, and so he eased off, labouring his breathing and making his legs appear heavy as he started to glance over his shoulder in mock fear, urging his followers into excited yelps as they increased their pace. The left turn he’d chosen to make his stand was sharp, so sharp he had to grip the corner of the building to bring himself to a stop as he twisted and ducked to a crouch, one knee on the ground and his dagger in his left hand. He knew that whatever tactics he employed he had to be quick or his followers could regroup and overcome him, but this was the ideal spot. The position he found himself in was slightly back from the turn, in a shadowy recess with enough space to wield the dagger and react to any defence his assailants might make. Two, three seconds passed as he held his breath and gripped the dagger, the sound of breathing and feet hammering the packed earth coming closer and closer . A blur and a grunt as the first man half tripped as he rounded the corner, then the second, on his heels. Istros clawed the dagger into the second man’s thigh before he knew the Thracian was hidden in the shadow, his yell echoing off the walls of the alleyway as he crashed to the right, tumbling and cracking his skull on the ground as his fellow attacker scrambled to a stop and turned, seeing Istros move back out into the roadway from which the two men had just arrived.
“Fool” screamed the attacker as he jumped over the prone body of the other chaser and dashed out into the road from where he’d just come only to feel the cold blade of the Thracian flash across his neck, followed instantly by a sharp thud into his temple which sent white pain through his brain. Istros yanked at his attacker’s hair, dragging him to the floor as he thrust the dagger into the back of his neck, his hand already warm with the man’s blood. It took seconds for the body to crash to the ground, by which time the Thracian was already back in the alley and standing over the first of his assailants. The man was trying to stand, but the tear in his thigh and the crack to his skull had incapacitated him enough for Istros to straddle him, take his dagger from his outstretched hand and kick him across the side of the head. It felt good.
“Who sent you?” he growled as he leant down into the man’s face, pushing him to the floor and placing one knee into his chest, which heaved against him but couldn’t hold his weight. “Who do you work for?” he asked more urgently.
The attacker grimaced, his teeth showing as a yellow-white streak in a grimy, dark, face. The man’s eyes stared wildly, as if he didn’t understand where he was or what was happening, maybe the kick to the head had knocked his senses for a moment. “Who?” repeated Istros as he pressed his balled fist into the torn flesh on the man’s thigh. This was followed by a pained grunt but he didn’t call out. Istros saw that only further pain would elicit a response, so he slid the dagger across the man’s chest, tearing the tunic that covered his hairy middle and into the flesh below. This time the man screamed, loud enough for Istros to punch him in the mouth to stop the noise, a tooth cracking on the hilt of the dagger as he battered the man. “Who?” he asked, his eyes now flicking around as surely somebody would hear and come looking for the source of the screams.
The man looked back at Istros, his bloody mouth frothing as defiance stared back at the Thracian. “Your choice then” Istros answered to the man’s angry glare before he slid the dagger across his windpipe and the man tried to gasp, the hiss of air suddenly rasping as he tried, furiously, to rise, bucking and kicking his death throes as his eyes bulged and his windpipe rasped hoarsely. Istros leant forwards spoke softly “I’ll go and ask the man on the steps” he said as he saw recognition flicker in the dying man’s bloodshot eyes.
Istros had loped off into the shadows before quickly turning back and watching the two dead bodies for a while to make sure nobody had been watching. As he’d expected, a small man in rags and a thin, straggly, beard appeared within two minutes of his leaving and picked at the bodies pockets, taking the knives that had been dropped as well as the soft leather sandals from the feet of one of the attackers. Istros had shaken his head as he followed the small thief and caught him near the cattle market, coming up behind him and slicing his throat before sitting the smaller man against a wall as if he was sleeping off his night’s drink. The man stank like a latrine, his skin thin and waxy as if he hadn’t eaten properly for months. No loose ends, he said to himself as he moved away silently and completed the same process of watching the body for a few minutes before heading towards the last place he’d seen the gang leader sitting on the steps. He needed to know who had been sent after him.
************
The morning had arrived with a chill in the air, enough to warrant an extra layer as the fresh breeze brought an edge which foretold of rain to come. Javenoli had been up early as he listened to Istros’ tale regarding Cincinnatus and his henchmen. It appeared that several men had been sent after the Thracian in an attempt to remove one of Javenoli’s arms across the city. The Pontifex had listened intently, biting his lip with anger as Istros had explained how he had caught up with the leader of the gang sent after him, catching him still sitting on the steps awaiting an update from his h
enchmen, and burned the submission from the man before leaving him hanging from a tree in the forest across the Tiber. The knowledge that Cincinnatus had betrayed him didn’t come as a surprise to Javenoli. He always knew the senator was ambitious, but the speed at which he had moved was surprising. Javenoli folded his arms across his chest as a slave brought honeyed oat cakes and fresh lemon-flavoured water to his master. The slave backed away, unnoticed as the Pontifex glowered into the distance, his features fixed into an angry stare. So, Cincinnatus had gained ideas above his station, Javenoli thought to himself. The man had been raised with Javenoli’s gold and was now starting to spread his web and develop his own networks. He considered the move against Iulius and if he could move blame to Cincinnatus, set the two men against each other, but decided he needed to retain that blame on Capitolinus in case he needed to use it in his favour when needed, Capitolinus remained a loose nail over which he may one day snag his toga. Family ties and clan leadership was the way to deal with this, he said to himself as he sipped the water that sat on the table in front of him. He’d taken a year to develop his spies and to worm his way into several clans, working to join factions which, before the Gaul’s, would never have openly joined together on any project. But now Cincinnatus was starting to threaten his power base. Attacking Istros was like attacking Javenoli himself, the people around him would know that as well. How he dealt with it would send a message to all the clan leaders, but he could not openly declare war on the man. He tapped the table top rhythmically as he considered options. Cincinnatus had lost three men overnight, including one of his own local gang leaders if Istros was correct. He wouldn’t want to brag about that, so in the short term, at least, it was unlikely anyone else knew about the attacks, although the dead bodies would soon be linked back to Cincinnatus and he would have to come up with some story or other to save face. That gave Javenoli a day or two to plan his next move. He pinched the bridge of his nose tightly, squeezing his eyes closed as he considered different options. Today was the clan vote for new officials. He’d informed Capitolinus that he should not stand for any position as the official sacrifices and readings would show very mixed fortunes for those who took leadership of the city for the coming year. Capitolinus wasn’t happy with the advice and had complained bitterly about the lack of speed with which their plans were moving. With Camillus now entrenched in the discussion regarding bad omens from the gods of the earth his first plan was moving forwards at pace, but it was very early in the making and could change at any time. Indeed, Capitolinus was changing his views and plans every day with his continued patronage of the plebeians and the associated drain on his finances. He’d sent out whispers of bad omens to his usual cronies who would ensure that the people knew that things weren’t right. He smiled to himself. The people always believed what their priests told them, it was the ground upon which he had set his plan into action.
The King of Rome Page 22
