The King of Rome

by Francis Mulhern

  “Brevo is away, he has your money. He’s in the legion” muttered the broken lips.

  “Too late. We need it now or we take all the animals and anything else of value.”

  “No, you can’t. We’ll starve.”

  “Good” snarled Andros “another off my list” he added with a smile. Brevo’s brother attempted to push at the arms that held him, but Andros threw a punch into his guts which doubled him over. “Money. Now.”

  “I don’t have it” said the man as the woman on the floor groaned and started to cry.

  Andros flicked his eyes to the woman. “We’ll take her for the brothel.”

  “What? No.” yelled the brother of the ex-centurion, which brought another almighty punch to the guts, making him throw up bile as he coughed and gurgled, his eyes popping as he gasped for breath. “Take anything of value you can find” he said to the men around him who instantly moved into the nearby rooms, others running outside to ransack the houses along the road. “Where’s the money?” he asked, looking back at the broken face which turned to stare at him with equal measures of fear and hatred in his eyes. After two seconds without reply another punch was landed, this time breaking the nose of the held man, blood now running down his face in a red stream as the studs in the leather thong on Andros’ fist did their job.

  “We’ll get nothing more out of him” said one of the men who held Brevo’s brother. “Out cold” he said with some disappointment.

  Andros grinned. “Right, let’s get what we can and go.” He looked at the woman, who had now been bound around the mouth to stop her screaming and was having a sack thrust over her head. “We can break her into her new career on the way home” he laughed as he turned to leave.

  *******

  Chapter 32

  The temple of Diana, built by Servius Tullius, was resplendent in the sunshine of the mid-morning, the goddess, hunting bow at her side, staring out at the people below her with an austere eye. Capitolinus had chosen the spot carefully, the Aventine Hill holding one of the busiest markets of the week. Crowds appeared and started chattering excitedly as he called for Jupiter to bring blessings to all those who heard his words. His speech began with a long reminder that Jupiter had given him the strength to defend the city against all its enemies, which he swiftly turned into a long diatribe on how debt had caused all the recent problems in the city and how each person listening to him was a slave to the senate and its puppet masters.

  “And furthermore, if these injustices continue, where will you be?” shouted Capitolinus to the faces who looked up to his elevated position below the statue of the hunter goddess. “More debt?” He raised his hands before letting them drop slowly. “How can we live with such millstones around our necks” he groaned. “The patricians use your gold to pay for a war they started to keep you from claiming your own rights. Ask yourselves the question” he said, “who profits from these wars? Who gains your hard-earned income as taxes and who gains the largest profits when our armies, with the grace of Jupiter and Mars, smite our enemies? Is it you?”

  ‘No’ cried the crowd.

  “No, you’re right, it isn’t you. It is them. Those who run the state. Those that hoard your gold and use it for their own means. Where has all the Barbarian gold gone?” he opened his arms wide and allowed the crowd to begin to grumble, shouts turning to anger. Waving his arms wildly to still them he turned to Sicinius and grinned before returning his gaze back to the growing crowd. “When the soldiers return today, mark my words my friends. They will have trinkets worth a few coins, but none will have the cart loads of bronze and silver that your patriarchs hold. Will you ever see any of it? No. And do you know why?” He paused for a moment to permit the crowd to call for an answer. He nodded slowly before shaking his head as he continued, “they won’t let you have it because they will tell you it is for the gods. Yes, the gods want your gold. But where is this gold? Jupiter asks where is the gold? The treasury is empty say the senate, empty because of all the wars, all the enemies who have continued to attack our borders. Yet what do I see? I see patricians growing fatter whilst you starve. Is this the Republic our fathers agreed to? Is this the future we want for our children? Is it?” he called to the angry crowd.

  Sicinius waved down some of the more vocal of the on-lookers who had been gesticulating loudly and calling for their own debts to be paid by the senate.

  “People of Rome. Today our victorious soldiers come home from their latest campaign. Jupiter loves them as he loves me. Let us celebrate their successes and let us ask the senate to remove all these men from their debts. Let every soldier be freed from servitude. We should ask this of the senate, for surely it is what the gods want of us, their servants.” Bending to a pouch at his feet he took out a handful of bronze coins and raised them to the air. “This bronze is for you, my people. For you to begin to free yourselves from debts, to begin to worship Jupiter and see the love that he, and I, have for you.” He launched the coins into the crowd, hands grabbing the bronze circles as people dropped to the floor and began pushing and shoving to get as much free money as they could hold on to. More handfuls were thrown, Capitolinus’ henchmen stopping fights over coins where some had started. “The senate have more, my friends. Don’t fight over mere trinkets. When your men, your brothers, come home today, tell them to come to my house, to listen to my words. We must look to the future and consider how the Republic is run.”

  The crowd cheered, many moving forwards to mob Capitolinus, reaching out to touch him as if he was a deity himself. He beamed at them, reaching out and touching people on the head, on the shoulder, as he called them his people and spoke of how Jupiter had chosen him to lead the city back to glory and to lead them.

  “Marcus Manlius Capitolinus” called a voice from somewhere back in the crowd, the first shout ignored or unheard in the baying of the mob. It was repeated more loudly, heads turning to see who was calling for attention. The first that Capitolinus knew of the arrival of the newcomers was when the crowd suddenly surged away in panic. The faces that were laughing and smiling in front of him turned abruptly and began to push harder, more frantically, away as the sounds of fighting were now louder than the happy babble of the crowd.

  “What is this?” shouted Capitolinus, his angry face creased into a scowl. Several men pushed forwards, knocking the remaining, peaceful, on-lookers to the floor and forcing them backwards. A group of men appeared through the remaining crowd and came to a halt in front of him.

  “Ah, Quirinus” smiled Capitolinus. “Look, people of Rome” he shouted to the fearful crowd who had moved away from the new arrivals. “Here comes one of the patricians who holds you in debt. Look at his clean clothes, his calf-skin shoes. A fine Roman. Why hasn’t he joined your sons on the battle field, you may ask? Yet, here he stands, fire in his eyes and club in hand, but for what reason? Speak son of Rome, let us all hear your words” he called as Quirinus was jostled by members of the crowd who had returned to see what was happening.

  “This man” Quirinus shouted as he stared at Capitolinus, “has broken into my stores and stolen wheat, wine and cloth. He must pay for this wrong doing.” One of his men moved to step forwards but Capitolinus held up a hand and, brow furrowed in feigned surprise, turned towards the Capitol Hill, his arm rising as he held his head to the side as if listening.

  “People of Rome, I hear Jupiter laughing at this mockery” he said, before turning a glare on the group standing in front of him, now surrounded by the crowd who had been previously listening to Capitolinus. “Where is your proof, Quirinus. Do you take the laws into your own hands? Do you have the power to act as dictator in this matter? Where is your master, Quirinus?” After turning in almost a full circle, he returned his gaze back to the red-faced Quirinus. “You cannot, under the eyes of the people, or the law, blame me for this robbery. You, like all your kind, believe you have the right to accuse a man of wrong doing without evidence, without recourse to the laws which govern all of the people. Tell me, whe
n did I take your goods, Quirinus? Where have I hidden them?”

  Quirinus started to speak, but his voice was drowned by the abuse the crowd started to give him. A punch was thrown, landing on Quirinus’ shoulder and knocking him to the side. A wooden club lashed out at the crowd, followed by a surge of angry people who pushed forwards into the melee. Capitolinus stepped down from the lowest step of the temple and grabbed handfuls of tunic as he pulled himself forwards, his own guards laying into Quirinus’ bodyguard in a furious attack. Blood spattered onto his face as he ducked an angry swing from a gap-toothed guard.

  “This is madness Quirinus” he called as heads turned towards him. “Stop it at once. You cannot win here, you will only end up battered and bruised, or worse” he yelled, as the two groups started to peel away from each other. After a moment two heavily breathing mobs stood toe to toe, open wounds leaking onto faces and arms. “Quirinus, I know who sent you and I know why” said Capitolinus as Quirinus, his forehead streaked with the blood of one of his attackers. “It was Camillus” he shouted. “Camillus believes I have taken your stores. I tell you, and in sight of Jupiter himself I tell the truth” he added even more loudly. “He sees himself as above the law, Quirinus. That is why you have been sent, like a puppy, to do your masters bidding. Tell me I am wrong” he shouted. “Camillus thinks he owns the city, he believes the city is his to do with what he wants. That is the truth of it, people of Rome. Look to yourselves now and fear this man. The soldiers coming back from campaign swear their allegiance to one man, not to the state. This man is one of them” he said, his voice now calming as Quirinus, attempting to get his breath back, returned an angry shout.

  “You are mad, Manlius. Mad. I came here because I know you took my goods and I want them back” he screamed, white-foamed spit forming in the edges of his mouth.

  “You see” yelled Capitolinus. “Here is a dog that has been sent by his master to discredit my good name, a name that Jupiter speaks of with love.” The crowd mumbled at this, whispers and shuffling turning to angry glares at Quirinus. “Go home to your pay-master, the mighty Camillus. Tell him that I have no goods of yours. And mark my words people of Rome” he added with a flourish of his arms. “Camillus has paid the soldiers of Rome just like this dog. He has them on a leash. Who will they turn to when you ask where your gold is? Who will come to your door as this cur has come to mine with unfounded accusations? Beware Rome, beware of those who would want to be a permanent dictator, those who would wear the crown” he shouted the last words as the crowd hissed, moving forwards. Quirinus’ retort was, again, dismissed to background noise in the clamour of angry voices. More punches were thrown, wooden clubs rising and falling as screams and shouts ricocheted off the walls of the temple. The noise grew, hands grabbing at Quirinus as he frantically pushed and shoved in an attempt to get forwards at the smiling Capitolinus.

  “This isn’t over, Manlius” cried the diminutive form of the young patrician. “You’ll pay for this” he yelled as one of his men put an arm around his chest and began to drag him backwards, fists and legs punching and kicking at him as he was forced towards an escape route.

  “Jupiter knows” called Capitolinus gloatingly. “He gave me this right hand to dispense his justice. In his name and in his sight, do I call on him to denounce false accusations. Come to me with proof of my complicity in these acts Quirinus or do not come at all. The people know I speak the truth, they know I only think of them and the Republic which we all serve. They know that you have stolen their taxes and used them for your own profit, you and those patricians who grow fat on their toil. Go back to your master and tell him that the people of Rome have found him out.” Just as the last words were spoken, two of his men grabbed him and began to pull at his clothes urgently, still shouting that the senate were stealing money from the people.

  “Come. Now!” yelled Sicinius. “We’ve just heard that the legion has been sighted and are nearly home.” The small group turned and started to march briskly back to the Forum, trailed by many of the crowd who had been listening to his words.

  ******

  “Where am I?”

  “You’re home now” came the soothing reply.

  Brevo squinted as the light poured pain into his eye sockets. He moved his head, the burning pain continuing to sear into his skull.

  “Don’t move” the voice said again.

  He felt hands push him gently down as he tried to rise, arms as weak as a babe. Opening his eyes a tiny crack, he peered at the scene around him. Several faces, all blurred in his half-vision, looked at him from various parts of the room. An open window shone like a beacon directly into his face and he squinted again, his arm instinctively rising to cover his eyes.

  “Close the shutters” said a voice, which led to the direct sunlight being shut off like a snuffed candle. “And get him some water.”

  “Where…” he started to say.

  “You’re home, my love” said the voice.

  “Is he alright?” came the voice of a child somewhere by his feet. Hushed voices shooed the child away.

  Brevo tried to understand what had happened. The last thing he remembered was fighting at the gate. Or…was it was travelling on a cart? He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth as he attempted to get his bearings and understand where he was. Was he truly at home? What had happened? Had he heard a voice which told him he was a hero? Words, pictures and sounds ran through his brain like leaves blowing across the forum, every shape and colour thrashing his skull with white lights of pain as he tried to recollect what had happened to him.

  “Am I home?” he asked, his eyes still shut tight to avoid the pain that the light created.

  Laughter and the soothing voice again. “Yes, you’re home my dear. You must eat and sleep. You need rest.”

  Brevo tried to respond, but a weariness drove deep into his body and as he lay his head on the bed he sighed and fell into a deep sleep.

  ******

  Pompeia looked to Javenoli and raised her eyebrows.

  “You won’t get a better offer from me” snapped Decius Afronius as he pushed back his chair and scowled down at Javenoli. “You damned Romans and your greed” he snarled.

  “Sit down” replied Javenoli quietly, “there are ladies present and your behaviour is demeaning.”

  Afronius stared, coldly, at Pompeia, before looking to his own wife and re-seating himself haughtily. Pompeia half-smiled towards Javenoli before she spoke. “Your sons are held captive for their part in the uprising at Satricum, Decius. The situation is grave, and I am offering you a lifeline for your boys.”

  “At a ridiculous cost.”

  Pompeia looked to Decius’ wife. “Are they not worth any price, Festia?” she asked. The lady turned doleful eyes to her husband and nodded. The man tightened his jaw and appeared to be holding his breath as he contemplated the situation, his face turning a darker shade of red with every second.

  “That land has been in my family for centuries Javenoli you know that” he snapped, his anger now turning back to the Roman Pontiff.

  “When your sons decided to join the Volscans, Decius, they, and you, lost all rights to the support of Roman law. I offer you a choice, a choice that you will not be offered again if you walk out of that door. Your sons will be found guilty, they will be beaten by a crowd of Roman freeborn citizens, have their lips sewn together, their hands and feet tied and then sown into a sack with twelve snakes. They will be taken to the river and thrown into the Tiber to sink to their deaths, if the snakes have not already killed them with their poison” he said slowly, his eyes never moving from Decius’. Festia whimpered, gaining a look of reproach from her husband.

  “This is your fault” Decius shouted as he turned to Festia. “If I’d beaten them harder when they were young, and you’d let me send them to be schooled in Rome instead of being taught by that damned Greek philosopher” he bit his tongue at this point, his ire returning to Javenoli. “What is asked is too much. There is no way we can l
et that land go for so little. It’s been in my family…” he let the words trail away as his wife began to sob quietly.

  Javenoli lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “That is the offer.”

  “Your family for Jupiter’s sake” he said with a sharp retort, his eyes falling on Pompeia.

  “Decius, that is why Festia came to me, we are distant relations it is true, but we are related and family is everything” she replied. “I have done all I can to help you. Gaius, here, is the only man who can help. I’ve done my best for you” she added, her voice sounding hurt. “I set up this meeting at great personal cost to myself, and to my name. if I were caught attempting to release two fugitives” she raised her hand to her mouth and turned her head to the side, tears welling behind her eyelashes.

  Festia placed a hand on her husband’s arm. “Is it too much of a price pay for their freedom?” she asked. “Our only living children.”

  “A thousand per Jugera of land, and no more than five thousand Jugera. I can offer no more” Decius said, his hand falling onto that of his weeping wife.

  “That is a lot less than I asked for” replied Javenoli as he noticed Pompeia relax her arms and sit back in her chair. “I carry all the risk here, Decius. If I am found to be aiding known criminals, it’ll be me in that sack with those snakes.” He swallowed slowly before saying “I’ll accept a thousand per Jugera, but I want eight thousand.”

  “Six”

  After a moment’s silence Javenoli looked to Pompeia, his eyes narrowing momentarily. “Agreed” he said, standing and putting out a hand, which Decius gripped and shook with some hostility still showing behind his eyes.