Menenius continued to search the darkness, his fear of the soldier now outweighing his desire to respond and give away his own fears. He knew that Capitolinus didn’t like him, knew that he would slit his throat at the mere thought that he wasn’t complying with his demands. But this? Sicinius had been Capitolinus’ most ardent supporter, the one man who was clapping the loudest, cheering for longer than others. So, what was this? Why had his old friend come to him now? Was it a trick? He looked at Sicinius and spoke slowly and more loudly. “Are you saying you disagree?”
His words caused Sicinius’ eyes to widen, his face drew into the darkness and he started to turn to leave, mumbling apologies and pulling his cloak around his shoulders with a glance backwards. “Wait” said Menenius. “Wait” he said more urgently as Sicinius was leaving the tunnel and heading for the road. “Lucius, I agree” he said quickly, “I agree, we need to discuss this.”
********
Istros watched as the two plebeian tribunes moved into the darkness, and wondered if he could get closer. It took all his guise to get up to the edge of the stairs where the tunnel exited, and from here he could only catch a few of the words, but enough to bring a smile to his face. His gods had given him another chance, and he’d gladly take it with both hands. This was enough for Javenoli to bring him back into his fold, he surmised. He slipped away before the two tribunes had finished, their rambling chatter now not as focused as their early words. So, Capitolinus was sending one of his men to kill four plebeians who had been attending his house meetings as spies. ‘A message to the senate’, the two men had said. They’d talked of a blood pact between the inner circle of followers and plans to make Capitolinus a dictator, a king of Rome. Javenoli would be pleased.
As he approached the Pontiff’s palace he felt as if eyes were watching him and stopped suddenly, reaching for both his hip dagger and the small knife he kept at his ankle. He crouched and shuffled to the edge of the road, his foot meeting the ridged gutter as he entered the darkest spot his vision could see. The almost total darkness ahead of him was now split by a yellow light as two figures appeared in the roadway and looked left and right. From his position he guessed they couldn’t see him due to his crouching position and, so he remained as still as a corpse until they had wandered up and down the road muttering that they’d definitely seen something move. One suggested that the other might have seen a fox, at which the other suggested it was larger and more likely a wolf. At this announcement both men had looked to each other, pulled out long blades and set off back from where they’d arrived. After a moment Istros stood and padded slowly towards Javenoli’s home. He entered via a rear wall, which he’d used several times and was in the house via a shuttered window from which he had, long ago, removed the rusty hinges and left ajar for just such a mid-night entry as this. Inside, he decided that it would be best to get the door boy to wake his master, and so he set off towards the entrance.
Lights flared as the house began to awake even though it had only recently gone to sleep. Slaves and Lictors appeared, blurry-eyed and tousle haired, all with a weapon of some sort, the Lictors quickly surrounding Istros as he sat on a chair in the largest room of the house, his back to the rear wall and every candle in the room lit. Javenoli appeared, Pompeia behind him, her eyes flashing in the candlelight as she smiled at Istros.
“You do know how to make an entrance, assassin” said Javenoli as he waved to Pompeia to wait by the door and strode towards Istros with two of the men. “I could have you flogged, then chopped into pieces and fed to the pigs” said the angry Pontiff.
Istros smiled, stood and bowed deeply before speaking. “Illustrious master” he started; Javenoli responded with a grunt. “You must know that if I am given a job I will always do it. Your friend’s life was not a job I enjoyed but was necessary to repay a debt, something I hope you will understand. I bring you some information tonight that I hope will repay some of the debt I feel I owe you for taking his life.” Javenoli narrowed his eyes at this, a glance towards Pompeia. Istros looked to the guards and raised his eyebrows, at which Javenoli scowled momentarily before ordering the entourage to leave them. As the last man left, he turned angry eyes to the Thracian.
“Go on.”
Istros acknowledged this with a slight nod of the head. “Tonight, my gods placed me at the scene of a conversation between two men. Men who are within the inner circle of Marcus Manlius Capitolinus.” He noticed the sudden hungry look in Javenoli’s eyes at the mention of the name.
“And?”
“These men say that Capitolinus has paid an assassin, a man who they both fear, to kill four ‘spies’ who have infiltrated the meetings he holds at his house. Four men who they didn’t name, but I am guessing you will know.” He looked expectantly at Javenoli, who now wiped at his chin with his right hand, an urgent, nervous, twitch appeared under his left eye.
“When will this happen?” asked the Pontiff abruptly.
“Tonight” replied the Thracian.
********
Chapter 41
Narcius cursed as he strode towards the doorway, the opening hanging by a broken wooden plank. Too late. Lights from the torches he and his men carried found every drop of blood within the house, a boy of no more than six lying as if asleep except for the arrow in his left eye.
“Bastards” he said, his eye catching Marcus’ as he arrived, his blade out and glinting in the torchlight. Several more men appeared, each one holding a torch or a weapon.
“Right, where next? They can’t have gotten to every one of the men yet” he said, his fears churning his guts as he looked at the mayhem caused by the assassin.
“Flavius at the Aventine bridge” said Narcius as they all started to trot along the street. It took several minutes to arrive, and to their relief the house was in darkness but also intact. Narcius raced towards the door, but Marcus called him back. “Wait. If they’ve not arrived yet we should wait in the shadows and catch them when they do. Get the men to spread out and we’ll surprised them when they get here. Put out the lights. Narcius, wake Flavius and put a couple of men behind the door.”
Narcius responded with his usual military approach and it was soon as quiet as a tomb as all the men hid amongst the trees, roads and alleys which led to Flavius’ house. Marcus wondered if the assassin had visited the other, remaining, house before this one or had simply taken a longer route to get here, he’d know soon enough, he guessed, as he settled in by squatting next to a leafless tree. A cold drizzle began to pour down on them from the dark sky above, making them all shiver as the cold wind which ran along the Tiber reached all the way up to these lower slopes of the Aventine Hill which overlooked the bridge. Marcus ignored the urge to move his arms to keep warm, and glared at any man who moved in the shadows in his own attempt to stave off the numbing winter weather.
Moments later a sound from his right made Marcus look out and along the road. A large group of men were approaching, each dressed in dark colours and none carrying lights. This must be them, he thought. As they approached he felt the chill of the night start to ease, the rushing blood now starting to warm him as he anticipated movement and his heart started to beat faster. The leader, a cloak over his head and thick leather, military issue, chest protector wrapped over a dark tunic, stepped towards the door.
“Kick it in” he growled as three men rushed forwards at his order.
“Stop that” called Marcus as he stepped out of the shadows, Narcius and several others now appearing too and the door opening to reveal Flavius and other men, all armed and ready for battle. “Drop your weapons.”
The leader looked around at the new arrivals and grunted, his blade wet from the drizzle. “Kill them all” he yelled as he leapt at Narcius, his blade flashing and his free hand punching at the centurion’s face. Narcius parried the blade and whipped his hand back at the punch in an attempt to block it, his fist stinging as it struck the elbow of the attacker. Three men raced towards Marcus and his group of soldiers, ea
ch man dropping to a low crouch as the attacker ran at them. Marcus moved to the right, side-stepping a chopping blow and striking the arm of his attacker with a stab across his body. The blade sliced through the muscle of the arm and the man screamed, his blade dropped to the floor with a clang which resounded off the walls.
Ahead, Narcius was hacking at the attacker in front of him, but the man seemed to have the speed of a snake, his blocks effortless as he moved to left and right with ease. Narcius was then blocked as another man fell across his feet, dropped to the ground by Flavius as he charged into the fray. This opened a chance for the attacker to slice his own blade across Narcius’ arm, causing a stinging pain as the leather arm cover was torn by the movement. Dragging back his sword he instantly stabbed it forwards and ducked, expecting the man to send a wide swing at his head. His own movement, though, caused the attacker to readjust and send his blade downwards and across Narcius’ face, missing his nose by a hands-width as he grunted and stepped backwards, his breathing coming in gasps. This assassin was good, he thought as he ducked another blow.
Marcus rushed across towards the fight, seeing that Narcius’ own men had been overwhelmed by the attackers as they’d rushed into the fight too quickly and were all now fighting a losing battle against superior numbers. A flurry of movement to his left announced the arrival of Crastinus and his group, who had been sent to the final house, which gave Marcus a feeling of renewed energy. These men now charged, noisily, at the attackers and as the leader turned a face towards Marcus his eyes widened, as if he’d seen a ghost. This allowed Narcius to ram his own blade across the man’s shoulder, causing a scream of pain which turned most heads towards the sound, as sparks flew from what must have been a metal shoulder protector, something Marcus’ own eagles used. The attacker turned with lightning speed and caught Narcius with a blow to the left arm which caused the centurion to curse, before he stepped forwards and grabbed the attacker by the tunic. Both men now fell to the floor and rolled. An attacker turned and threw a dagger at Marcus, the hilt smashing into his chest and causing him to stop and catch his breath. Crastinus waded through the men in front of him, his voice booming as he stepped past man after man, his blade lashing out at any movement. An attacker stepped across him and received a punch to the temple which sent him spinning into the wall at his back, his body falling, unconscious, to the floor.
“Are you alright” called Crastinus to Marcus, who was holding his chest where the dagger hilt had hit him. Marcus pointed to the two rolling figures, arms and knees punching at each other in a furious fight. Crastinus reacted instantly by screaming and charging across to the fight, with Marcus moving behind him. The attackers began to back away as they saw the new force now working towards their centre. Two men yelled something at three others and they edged towards a dark opening between two houses, suddenly turning and bursting into a run. “Let them go” yelled Crastinus as he landed a kick to the head of the man who was gripping Narcius by the throat and twisting his neck left and right as Narcius thumped his own fist into the man’s face.
“Yield” yelled Marcus as he arrived and pushed his blade into the back of the wriggling attacker. “Now” he cried. A bloody face turned towards him, anger and hatred in his eyes as Marcus caught his breath.
“Brevo?” he said incredulously.
Crastinus turned a sharp look to the man on the floor and leant down, grabbing his hair and yanking his head backwards. “Bastard” he spat.
Narcius dragged himself to his feet and turned to Crastinus. “Get him out of here. And them” he pointed at the other men who had been subdued. “Sir, where shall we take them?”
Marcus looked at Brevo, almost in disbelief that one of his own eagles had been the assassin. “To the Pontiffs palace. They have a gaol there, Javenoli will know what to do” he replied as Crastinus punched Brevo in the ribs and shoved him along the road.
****
In the shadows Istros put a hand to his mouth. Brevo was the assassin paid by Capitolinus to kill the four plebeians. He shook his head in disbelief and looked to the sky, where the rain continued to fall, wondering what trickery the gods were playing on him. The gods gave him back his own freedom but at the cost of that of his friend. He continued to stare open-mouthed as Brevo was shoved along the road with his men before he decided that he could do no more to help his friend, his fate was now in the hands of the gods.
************
Chapter 42
Capitolinus answered the call to the door with some trepidation. An official summons had been handed to him by his slave moments before, delivered by Quirinius. He’d read it quickly, realising that something must have happened to Brevo the night before as the man had sent no word of his mission, but here, in words from the senate, were his deeds. He took a moment to gain his composure as he considered the summons. Brevo could not have told his captors who had sent him as there were no specific allegations beyond inciting the population to violence. His initial reaction was one of anger, but he held his nerve and came to the door with his head held high.
“What is this nonsense, Quirinius” he said, as he reached the doorway and glared at the young patrician stood outside with several senior officials.
“You are accused of plotting against the state and inciting the people to violence” called Quirinius, his joy evident in his voice.
Capitolinus threw the scroll to the floor and shrugged. “There is no evidence here that I have done anything. In fact, Quirinius, I do not understand what this summons is for. I have no more incited people to violence than I have incited them to swim in the river with their armour on” he said, bringing a small laugh from his own retinue.
Quirinius was undeterred. “You will appear at the Forum as appointed. The charges will be read out for all to hear. You cannot deny this, it is the law” called the younger man, his face flushed with excitement.
Capitolinus simply turned and waved for the boy to close the door, which shut with a heavy thud. He turned to one of his men. “Go to all the men I have loaned money to, tell them all to come to the forum at mid-day and prepare to speak in my defence.” With this he then headed for his cellar, calling for Castrus to follow him. Both men descended into the underground chamber with lamps and returned minutes later with a collection of swords, shields, trophies from various wars and personal gifts from many of the dictators and commanders with whom he had served. Placing these on the ground he set Castrus to ordering them and arranging for carts to transport them to the Forum. Once this was done he went to his study and began to prepare his speech, knowing that the people would be there in vast numbers.
********
Javenoli kissed Pompeia softly on the hand as she raised it to him on entering the room. “How are you feeling today?” he asked, concern showing on his face.
“It will pass, just sickness” she said waving away his concerns. Accepting this, he moved to the couch and sat next to her with a perplexed look on his face. “You seem agitated, my love.”
Javenoli forced a smile before he stood and, with hands clasped behind his back, started to pace the room. “I’ve been thinking through our plans again. We have two issues at hand, that of the trial of Capitolinus and making sure that my previous deeds with him do not come to light. And secondly, securing the future for our child in Camillus’ new Rome. He undoubtedly has the love of the gods, so I must align myself to him.” She nodded in response. “His ideas for the future of Rome, with plebeians moving into roles which give their class a greater say in decisions” he winced at this and his lips twitched “is admirable. Yet I fear that their changes may be destructive for our future.”
Pompeia eased herself forwards and spoke. “Do you have an idea of exactly what his plans are for the plebeians to progress? Surely these changes will need to be voted in by the senate?” she asked.
Javenoli agreed with the latter point. “As to his exact thoughts on the matter” his head moved slowly from side to side “He’s spoken to many families regarding
giving those men who hold military positions leadership roles in local settlements to enforce Roman rule. That’s a good idea, we should have done that years ago. But as for positions in Rome” he turned, his shoulders rising in a gesture which clearly showed he did not know what plans were being discussed.
“Then you have the opportunity to steer his path?” asked Pompeia.
Turning to look at Pompeia he sat down and touched her stomach, “if our son is to have a position of power in Camillus’ new Rome then I must steer the senate from advancing all of Camillus’ changes. If plebeians are given positions of power they will act quickly to hold that power and advance it for their own families, such is the way of the world” he added. “So, I must find a way to hold back their desire for quick changes” he looked at Pompeia again and smiled. “Until the boy is old enough to take control himself.”
Pompeia laughed, “we do not know that it is a boy.”
“I’ve consulted the books and sacrificed to the gods, it will be a boy. I will call him Julius after my own grandfather” he said with authority. Pompeia touched his arm and stroked it softly. After a moment’s silence he stood, again and walked to the end of the couch. “Is it warm enough in here?” he asked. “I’ll get the boy to build up the fire.”
“it’s fine, Gaius. Don’t fuss so. Tell me how we can control Camillus’ plans? I don’t see how, if he can sway the senate to his will, we can influence him.”
Javenoli stood still for a moment, his eyes watching the dancing flames. “Camillus is a man driven by the gods, the gods will give me an answer.” He turned to Pompeia with wide eyes. “Did you know there was a prophecy, many years ago now, regarding him.” She answered with no, so Javenoli continued. “Yes, he was obsessed with it in his early career. The female gods Mater Matuta, Fortuna and Juno would support him if he gave the people more power. The people would love him, I think it said.” He turned a sad face to Pompeia, “I could have saved myself a lot of time and money if I’d worked with him then, but he was so pompous, so full of his own ideals and greatness.”
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