Marcus shook his head and shrugged in reply.
“I’ll send some scouts out to check, if it’s a small hill then they could use it as a vantage point and see us coming from miles away. Do we want to send a small force here?” he moved a finger along what looked like a small path through flat fields. Marcus didn’t answer, looking at the map and contemplating the idea. “It’d give us a position to fall back to” he tapped a flat area on the map below and left of the original location “if there were problems.”
“Fall back?” asked Marcus.
Publius smiled and nodded at the jibe. “Do you really think that their soldiers will be farmers with nothing more than axes and eating knives? The scouts say there are thousands, as many as twice our force.”
“I don’t doubt the courage or the strength of their army” Marcus added. “But I know the capabilities of our paid soldiers and I know that the gods favour us. We need to find the best location to make a stand and to encourage them to come to our blades.” He took a moment to look at the map again and eventually placed a block of horses and soldiers onto the map in the position Publius had suggested. “Then we are agreed gentlemen. We move the main army to here, velites and cavalry to the fore, and we support with five cohorts here.” He looked up at the assembled men. “Aemillius, you and your first cohort plus four others of your choosing to support along this route. Keep in contact at all times. Only engage the enemy if you have to, send word if there are any changes to the plan. Publius, Narcius stay behind and we’ll discuss options and plans. Let’s get the camp moving gentlemen.”
*****
As the last wagon was loaded and the scouts and velites marched to the front Marcus called the gods to watch over them, taking the small table and laying it with a white cloth as the armies three priests moved forwards to prepare the auspices for the day. Marcus moved back to watch as the chief amongst the priests stood behind the table and turned to offer a small bowl to Marcus, as was the custom. Taking a sip of the wine, he nodded and returned it to the priest, who sipped some himself and spat a small globule into another bowl. This was placed on the table. Two small boys moved forwards, their faces painted red to favour Mars, god of war. A small box of dirt was carried forwards and placed next to the bowl on the table. The dirt represented Rome, and was carried in the strongbox along with the tools for the ritual to signify that the army carried with them the soil of their fathers as they moved into enemy territory. When the battle was won this dirt would be sprinkled onto the ground and claimed as Roman soil.
The priest took a small bird from a cage and let it fly into the sky, calling the gods of the air to their side as they travelled. Soldiers watched the bird fly away to the north east, and nodded. A good omen as that was the direction in which they were to travel. A candle was brought forwards and the priest asked his fellow acolyte to place it on the table as he donned his white hood and took a clucking chicken from another cage, the bird protesting loudly and setting off some murmurs in the ranks. Marcus held his breath for a moment as he watched. Sacrificial birds were supposed to go willingly to the gods and the assumed protest of this bird would, he knew, be seen as a bad omen. The priest was used to such things and called loudly over the noise of the chicken as he forcibly took its legs and nodded to the other acolyte to stretch its neck for the knife as he continued to intone the gods. Unfortunately, the acolyte missed his grip and the bird pecked out at his hand, catching his index finger and drawing blood as it continued to squawk. As the priest grunted angrily at the acolyte, who instantly grabbed the bird and stretched its neck for the knife to slice into, the noise from the closest soldiers rose into a fearful rumble. Marcus looked up and saw concern in their eyes. The chicken’s throat was quickly cut, but once again as it died the legs kicked violently and the small boy holding the silver bowl to catch the blood jerked as the acolyte allowed the body to move. Blood spilt to the floor and the soldiers groaned, more noise spreading towards the back of the standing ranks of men as heads turned and feet shuffled. Centurions barked orders to keep still as others whacked out with vine canes at mumbling men. Marcus bit his lip in frustration at the ineptitude as he allowed the priest to finish the ceremony. With a look of fury, he turned to the priest and called that the ceremony must be repeated as they had gotten it wrong, the priest bowed his head humbly and stepped back, his hand trembling at the look in Marcus’ eye.
Soldiers backed away as the next chicken was brought forwards, their eyes downcast as they held their breath. A poor ceremony could only mean disaster, and Marcus knew it was a bad start to the day. Publius looked to him with questions written across his face, his mind too, infected with doubt.
The next sacrifice accepted its end as it should, and the priest called that the omens were good, although as Marcus looked at the ranks of soldiers he knew that the damage had already been done. Blood split to the floor was a particularly bad sign. Marcus allowed the priests to retrieve their equipment and dismissed them, turning to the officers and deciding that he must say something to dispel the fears of the soldiers, knowing that they would, to a man, now be concerned about any coming battle. He moved to his horse and climbed atop, edging closer to the front ranks of the army.
“Men of Rome” he called. “Do not confuse the ineptitude of men with the signs from the gods.” He glared at the priests with contempt as they trudged away. “The signs remain good, the gods remain with us” he called as he looked into the eyes of the closest men, seeing fear and doubt staring back at him. His mind worked furiously as he thought through what to say. “Ahead of us lie glory and honour, victory against our foes. The gods are with us, the eagles fly with us and the iron in your hearts will defeat your enemies. March with pride as men of Rome” he called as he looked out across the ranks of men, his words being called by centurions to those men further back who may not be able to hear his words. “Defeat your enemy and plant your seeds in his lands. Grow new crops here. Feed your families from new farms that will be given to you as loyal subjects” he called as men looked to each other and nodded. “Rome is expanding” he shouted. “When we, humble men, follow the path the gods lay down for us they do not fail us. We are the chosen race, my friends” he called. “For Rome” he chanted, repeating the call.
Some of the men closest to him called back, thrusting their right hands into the air. After a few seconds the delayed reaction of thousands of men calling ‘for Rome’ echoed back to him and he smiled a little more easily before he waved to the first ranks to move off.
Brevo shook his head as he turned to his Optio. “I don’t buy that shit” he grumbled, his dark-eyed junior frowning as he agreed. “That was a bad omen if I ever saw one.”
“He should have slit the throats of that idiot priest and his boys” replied the Optio maliciously. “Only way to deal with it.”
Brevo shook his head again. “I’m not sure what to think” he said absently as he set off on a slow walk, his vine cane tapping his leg. “Idiots” he grumbled. “The lads won’t be happy about it that’s for sure. Keep them busy” he said as he glanced at his men “best not let them think on it too long” he grumbled.
“Do you think it means we’ll lose?” asked the Optio. “Just like Capitolinus warned back at the senate” he added as Brevo turned a cold stare to him.
He tapped his forearm three times before saying, “it don’t look good, Maxus, it don’t look good.”
************
Javenoli had listened to Istros’ report with a stern look on his face. Events were moving fast, with Capitolinus now seeming to have plans which made Javenoli’s head hurt just trying to work out what they were. The latest news regarding changing the farms boundary lines was confusing to say the least, and the amount of information that Capitolinus seemed to have on his own dealings made Javenoli’s blood boil. As the Thracian finished his report Javenoli chewed his bottom lip, feeling the pain as he bit too tightly. First, he had to seal the leak in his own network. But where to look? He ignored the sile
nce that began to stretch as Istros stood and watched his pay master, who rolled one the rings on his finger around and around as he considered options.
“Someone is leaking information” he said slowly as he looked up at the Thracian and to Pompeia, who looked as angry as Javenoli. “Someone close. I need you to fix this Istros” he added slowly as he ground his teeth. I’ve called a meeting of those whom I can trust for tonight. I will lay some false trails with each man individually and see what blooms from the plants I seed” he added as he rubbed at his lip. “Somewhere there is a rat that needs catching” he added absently. “Istros” he said sharply “look to your sources. See if Garvi or Auguronos are linked in some way. I want the leak plugged. Understand?” he said as Istros nodded with a frown, bowing as he did so.
“Do you wish me to attend this evening?” he asked.
“No, I have another job for you” said Javenoli, rising and moving towards a desk which sat in the corner of the room. On the desk was a dark bowl with red figures dancing in floating dresses etched around the rim. Two small, thin, handles sat symmetrically at each end and Javenoli picked up the bowl by one of them. “Take this to Cincinnatus, he’s always remarked how it would add to his collection” he said handing it across. “Ask him to plan to leave at the end of the meeting and then to return via the lower door, he knows the one. I need to think through some plans with him. Tell him we need to trim the wheat in our alliance, he’ll understand.”
Istros nodded and took the bowl, which was lighter than he imagined.
“It will be done” he said as he turned to leave. Javenoli watched him go, wondering if he could trust the assassin, whom he’d given far more tasks, and freedom, than he had ever imagined. So far, though, he couldn’t fault the work that the man had done. He pondered his thoughts for a moment before rubbing his lip once more and smiling. He was to spend the day with Pompeia for the first time in a while and it felt good to know they would soon be relaxing together. He called for a slave, who appeared instantly, and began to issue orders. The day was just beginning and Capitolinus needed bringing down. The game was afoot, and Javenoli suddenly realised that he had been wont in keeping up with his own standards. He slapped a hand on his thigh. Yes, that was the problem, he’d been lax in his focus. Everything would be good.
************
“Don’t argue just do it” yelled Brevo, his vine cane lashing out at a legionary who ducked at the swipe, his face turning as his mates grabbed his arm and pulled him back to digging the defensive ditch around the evening camp. Brevo saw the fear in their faces, and felt it himself. The camp had been chosen by the scouts and had immediately hit a problem. The stream which they crossed, setting out the camp perimeter with the water to their rear, was infested with mosquito’s. The small insects bit at the men as they toiled under the evenings labour. Men swatted at the insects as they bent to the work, their heads almost constantly covered in small black clouds.
“It’s the work of the gods” the legionary had said as he complained to Brevo about the camp position. Brevo had, uncharacteristically lashed out at the man, turning away quickly as he realised his own frustrations and fear had overcome him. Swearing at the rest of the men, some of whom glanced at him with anger, he set off to find Narcius and the other centurions, something had to be done about the morale of the men. It took a while to gather the junior officers together, several Optio’s joining the conversation, which was held as far away from the water and toiling men as possible, partly to avoid prying ears but also to avoid the damned flies.
“Narcius, my cohort are pushing my nerves to breaking point” started Brevo. Several centurions agreed instantly, making him feel slightly better about calling the urgent meeting. “That issue with the priests, the wrong turn at the forest and now this latest problem of the camp position and these damned flies” he was shaking his head and feeling his heart thumping in his chest as he continued. “Something needs to be done about it. The men fear that the gods have abandoned us as they did at the Allia.” Centurions tapped their right forearms as one. “I can’t keep beating them with the cane, they’ll resent me, and I don’t want a knife in my back in the next fight” he added angrily.
Narcius grunted.
“My lads are the same” grumbled Crastinus. “Best fighters in the legion” he added as several eyebrows rose at the comment “and now frightened that the spirits of the water are coming to drown them in their sleep tonight” he added. “Heard them talking about it earlier” he continued with a look to Brevo, who sighed loudly and shook his head.
“Mine too” said Petronius. “Seems the priest’s cock-up has caused us all a big headache.” He rubbed at his eye, which was red from a mosquito bite “and the men think Capitolinus was right. They’re all complaining that they’re taxed too highly and won’t see any of the land that Camillus has promised them.”
Narcius shuffled his feet as he rubbed his chin slowly, the gathered men looking to him instinctively as he moved. “I don’t know what to think lads” he added with a glum expression. “We need to stop this constant grumbling and worry. I don’t know what to say or what to do, whatever I say seems to come back at me in some other form and make it worse.”
“What does Camillus say?” Petronius asked.
“He’s resolute. The gods are with us. His own personal sacrifices are clear, his omens good” he shrugged. “As far as he is concerned we have nothing to fear” he added.
“Have the priests been sent home? That’d help” Brevo responded.
“You know what he’s like. He’s convinced that there’s nothing to worry about.” The centurions and Optio’s stood silently, many of them slapping at some insect which landed hungrily on their forearms. Narcius looked around as a group of legionaries were passing having been sent back to camp, their section of the ditch finished. “We better get back to the men” he said “and I’ll speak to him again. Tomorrow’s omen’s will be better gentlemen, so let’s keep the men busy and their minds focused.” He placed a hand on Brevo’s shoulder. “Keep your head my friend” he said with a smile. “They know you for a good officer who allows them some leniency. Hitting out at them will only concern them” he added. Brevo glowered back at him but nodded at what he knew were kind words.
“You’re right” he said as he chewed at his lip. “Hopefully tomorrow we’ll crush those bastards” his head twitched towards the distance “and we’ll all be laughing about it over a drink afterwards.”
The centurionate moved back to their cohorts at a steady pace, two or three joking as they walked along. Narcius watched them leave and grimaced. The effect of the poor omens and the words of Capitolinus had infected the men far more than the biting mosquito’s that infested the camp. He knew how important morale was, especially when facing a larger army, even if they were, as Marcus said, all farmers. He sighed heavily and shook his head, turning to check that no-one was watching. Marcus had better have some of his old magic up his sleeve, he thought, or this could be a very bad campaign.
***********
Chapter 20
Shadows bounced off the tight brickwork which covered the walkaway through which Cincinnatus strode. Red and brown flashes came and went from his vision as the light of his lantern passed sections, his eyes watching the steps which were uneven and worn from years of usage. He knew the door at the top of the passageway well enough, and knew that it held a small room with no windows and only one other door, a door that led through three low ceilinged passageways to the rear of the Palace in which Javenoli lived. It was an ancient place, a place of mystery, and these steps had no doubt seen thousands of feet in their time. His guard tapped the door as they arrived, the hilt of his dagger used to a knock.
The door opened immediately, and the guard stepped in. A moment later his face appeared back in the lantern light and he nodded for Cincinnatus to enter. He looked around, nodding to Castrus, his thick-faced henchman, who sloped off back down the stairs where several other men were waiting. Inside
was the usual table with five chairs. He’d been here many times, but not so often recently. Javenoli slid a metallic goblet across towards him as he entered, his eyes adjusting to the brightness of the candles. He eyed the room, bare and cool but not cold or damp. The ceiling was higher than expected and arched along the side wall where it met the palace which sat behind the thick walls.
“The bowl was a pleasant surprise” he said as he walked to the table and took the goblet, bowing his head as he sat. “It suggests that there are very important things we need to discuss” he added.
“Hieron is an excellent potter and Makron is surely the best artist.”
Cincinnatus nodded. “The Maenads float as they walk. It is truly a work inspired by the gods.” He smiled and took a slow sip of his wine. “I am indebted to you Gaius.”
Javenoli smiled in reply and sat forwards, pushing a large wax tablet across the table towards Cincinnatus, which was taken and opened. “Our business dealings have been working well for some months now Titus. These are the latest accounts which show we are all turning a healthy profit.” He watched as Cincinnatus glanced at the tablet and shrugged as if such details meant nothing to him. Javenoli smiled. He sipped his drink again. “The last four on the tablet include Capitolinus” he said as Cincinnatus perked up at the mention of the name.
“I hear he is stirring up trouble.”
“Nothing that can’t be handled. He wants us to buy him out of these” he said with a perfunctory wave of the hand.
Cincinnatus sipped at the wine. “So where are the others, surely they should be here for this discussion. It’s their gold that made the agreement as much as yours and mine” he said with a slow, dramatic, turn of his head to the empty room before returning a look of interest to Javenoli.
Javenoli enjoyed the posturing look on Cincinnatus’ face for a moment before he continued. “I feel that our interests would be served better if we took a higher share in the business Titus. The others are silent partners at best, noisy and irksome at worst” he added. “Capitolinus is on a course to self-destruction, he is looking to cause a revolution amongst the population. He wishes to move against some of the senior senators and install himself as head of state. He has asked for a hundred pounds of gold to release him from these debts and to use this to buy himself an army like that paid for by the state.”
The King of Rome Page 29
