I am truly sorry the official report says what it does, Gaius Marius. It was not my doing, I can assure you. But the trouble is, old man, that I just do not have the necessary reserves of energy one needs to swing a body of three hundred men around single-handedly. I did it over twenty years ago in the matter of Jugurtha but it is the last twenty years are the ones which count. Not that there are three hundred in the Senate these days. More like one hundred. Those senators under thirty-five are all doing some sort of military service and so are quite a few of the ancients, including a certain fellow named Gaius Marius. When your little funeral train arrived in Rome it created a sensation. The whole city fell about screaming and tearing out hunks of hair, not to mention lacerating its breast. All of a sudden, the war was real. Perhaps nothing else could have taught them that particular lesson. Morale plummeted. In an instant, in less time than it takes a bolt of lightning to strike. Until the body of the consul arrived in the Forum, I think everyone in Rome including senators and knights! regarded this war as a sinecure. But there lay Lupus, stone dead, killed by an Italian on a battlefield not more than a few miles from Rome herself. A frightful instant, that one when we spilled out of the Curia Hostilia and stood gaping at Lupus and Messala did you tell the escort to uncover them before they reached the Forum? I'll bet you did! Anyway, all Rome has gone into mourning, it's dark and dreary clothes wherever you go. All men left in the Senate are wearing the sagum instead of the toga, and a knight's narrow stripe on their tunics rather than the latus clavus. The curule magistrates have doffed their insignia of office, even to sitting on plain wooden stools in the Curia and on their tribunals. Sumptuary laws are being hinted at regarding purple and pepper and panoply. From total unconcern Rome has gone to the opposite extreme. Everywhere I go, people are audibly wondering if we are actually going to lose? As you will see, the official reply is upon two separate matters. The first I personally deplore, but I was howled down in the name of "national emergency." To wit: in future all and any war casualties from the lowest ranker to the general will be given a funeral and all possible obsequies in the field. No one is to be returned to Rome for fear of what it might do to morale. Rubbish, rubbish, rubbish! But they wanted it so. The second is far worse, Gaius Marius. Knowing you, you have taken this to read ahead of officialdom. So I had better tell you without further ado that the House refused to give you the supreme command. They didn't precisely pass you over that they weren't quite courageous enough to do. Instead, they have given the command jointly to you and Caepio. A more asinine, stupid, futile decision they could not possibly have made. Even to have appointed Caepio above you on his own would have been smarter. But I suppose you will deal with it in your own inimitable way. Oh, I was angry! But the trouble is that those who are left in the House are by and large the dried-up, rattly bits of shit hanging around the sheep's arse. The decent wool is in the field or else, like me, had a job to do in Rome but there are only a handful of us compared to the rattly bits. At the moment I feel as if I am quite superfluous. Philippus is running the place. Can you truly imagine that? It was bad enough having to deal with him as consul in those awful days leading up to the murder of Marcus Livius, but now he's worse. And the knights in the Comitia eat out of his greasy palm. I wrote to Lucius Julius asking that he return to Rome and pick a consul suffectus in place of Lupus, but he wrote back saying we'd have to muddle along as we were because he's too tied up to leave Campania for so much as one day. I do what I can, but I tell you, Gaius Marius, I am getting very old. Of course Caepio will be insufferable when he hears the news. I have tried to arrange the couriers so that you know ahead of him. It will give you time to decide how you will handle him when he struts up to peacock in front of you. I can only offer you one piece of advice. Deal with it your own way.
But in the end Fortune dealt with it brilliantly, finally, ironically. Caepio accepted his joint command with extreme confidence, as he had beaten back a raiding legion of Marsi at Varia while Marius had been dealing with Scato along the river Velinus. Equating this small success with Marius's victory, he notified the Senate that he had won the first victory of the war, as it had happened on the tenth day of June, whereas Marius's victory was two days later. And in between there had been an appalling defeat, for which Caepio managed to blame Marius rather than Lupus. To his chagrin, Marius seemed not to care who got the credit or what Caepio wanted in Varia. When Caepio directed him to return to Carseoli, Marius ignored him. He had taken over Scato's camp along the Velinus, fortified it heavily, and put every man he had at his disposal into it, there to drill and re-drill his troops while the days dripped on and Caepio chafed at being denied the chance to invade the lands of the Marsi. As well as inheriting what men of Lupus's had survived, some five cohorts, Marius had two thirds of the six thousand men who had fled from Praesenteius in the western pass; he had now re-equipped the lot. Which gave him a total of three over-strength legions. Before he moved an inch, he said by letter, they would be ready to his satisfaction, not some cretin's who didn't know his vanguard from his wings. Caepio had about a legion and a half of troops which he had redistributed to form two under-strength units, and was not confident enough to move at all. So while Marius relentlessly drilled his men miles away to the northeast, Caepio sat in Varia and fumed. June turned into Quinctilis and still Marius drilled his men, still Caepio sat in Varia and fumed. Like Lupus before him, a good deal of Caepio's time was occupied in writing complaining letters to the Senate, where Scaurus and Ahenobarbus Pontifex Maximus and Quintus Mucius Scaevola and a few other stalwarts kept the slavering Lucius Marcius Philippus at bay every time he proposed that Gaius Marius be stripped of his command. About the middle of Quinctilis, Caepio received a visitor. None other than Quintus Poppaedius Silo of the Marsi. Silo arrived in Caepio's camp with two terrified-looking slaves, one heavily laden donkey, and two babies, apparently twins. Summoned, Caepio strolled out into the camp forum, where Silo stood wearing full armor, his little entourage behind him. The babes, held by the female slave, were wrapped in purple blankets embroidered with gold. When he saw Caepio, Silo's face lit up. "Quintus Servilius, how good it is to see you!" he cried, walking forward with his right hand outstretched. Conscious that they were the center of much attention, Caepio drew himself up haughtily and ignored the hand. "What do you want?" he asked disdainfully. Silo dropped his hand, managing to make the gesture independent and free from humiliation. "I seek Rome's shelter and protection," he said, "and for the sake of Marcus Livius Drusus, I preferred to give myself up to you rather than to Gaius Marius." Mollified a little by this reply and consumed with curiosity besides Caepio hesitated. "Why do you need Rome's protection?" he asked, eyes moving from Silo to the purple-wrapped babes, then to the male slave and his charge, the overloaded donkey. "As you know, Quintus Servilius, the Marsi gave Rome a formal declaration of war," said Silo. "What you do not know is that it was thanks to the Marsi that the Italian nations delayed their offensive for so long after that declaration of war. In the councils in Corfinium the city now called Italica I kept pleading for time and secretly hoping that no blows would be struck. For I regard this war as pointless, hideous, wasteful. Italy cannot beat Rome! Some among the council began to accuse me of harboring Roman sympathies, which I denied. Then Publius Vettius Scato my own praetor! came back to Corfinium after his clash with Lupus the consul and his subsequent clash with Gaius Marius. Whereupon the whole thing came to boiling point. Scato accused me of collusion with Gaius Marius, and everyone believed him. Suddenly I found myself an outcast. That I was not killed in Corfinium was due to the size of the jury all five hundred Italian councillors. While they deliberated I left the city and hurried to my own city of Marruvium. I reached it ahead of pursuit but with Scato leading the hunt, I knew I wouldn't be safe among the Marsi. So I took my twin sons, Italicus and Marsicus, and decided to flee to Rome for protection." "What makes you think we'd want to protect you?" Caepio asked, nostrils flaring. Such an odd smell! "You've done nothing for Rome." "Oh, but I
have, Quintus Servilius!" Silo said, and pointed to the donkey. "I stole the contents of the Marsic treasury and would offer it to Rome. There on the ass is a little of it. Only a very little! Some miles behind me, well hidden in a secret valley behind a hill, there are thirty more asses, all laden with at least as much gold as this one carries." Gold! That was what Caepio could smell! Everyone was always insisting gold was odorless; but Caepio knew better, just as his father before him had known better. Not a Quintus Servilius Caepio ever born could not smell gold. "Give me a look," he said curtly, moving to the donkey. Its panniers were well hidden by a hide cover which Silo now stripped off. And there it was. Gold. Five rough-cast round sows of it nestling in each pannier, glittering in the sun. Every sow stamped with the Marsic snake. "About three talents," said Silo, covering the panniers again with anxious looks all about to see who might be watching. Having tied the thongs which held the cover on securely, Silo paused and gazed at Caepio out of those remarkable yellow-green eyes, little flames leaping in them, it seemed to the dazzled Caepio. "This ass is yours," he said, "and perhaps two or three more might be yours if you extend me your personal protection as well as Rome's." "You have it," said Caepio instantly, and smiled an avaricious smile. "I'll take five asses, though." "As you wish, Quintus Servilius." Silo sighed deeply. "Oh, I am tired! I've been running for three days." "Then rest," said Caepio. "Tomorrow you can lead me to the secret valley. I want to see all this gold!" "It might be wise to bring your army," said Silo as they moved off toward the general's tent, the female slave following with the babies. Good babies; they didn't cry or wriggle. "By now they'll know what I've done, and who knows what they'll send after me? I imagine they'll guess I've appealed to Rome for asylum." "Let them guess!" said Caepio gleefully. "My two legions are a match for the Marsi!" He held open the tent flap, but preceded his suppliant inside. "Ah of course I must ask that you leave your sons in this camp while we're away.'' "I understand," said Silo with dignity. "They look like you," said Caepio when the slave girl put the babies down upon a couch preparatory to changing their diapers. And they did indeed; both had Silo's eyes. Caepio shivered. "Stop, girl!" he said to the slave. "There'll be no baby-cack in here! You'll have to wait until I organize accommodation for your master, then you can do whatever it is you have to do." Thus it was that when Caepio led his two legions out of their camp the next morning, Silo's slave girl remained behind with the royal twins; the gold remained behind too, safely unloaded from the donkey and hidden in Caepio's tent. "Did you know, Quintus Servilius, that Gaius Marius is, at this very moment, beleaguered by ten legions of Picentes, Paeligni, and Marrucini?" asked Silo. "No!" gasped Caepio, riding beside Silo at the head of his army. “Ten legions? Will he win?" "Gaius Marius always wins," said Silo smoothly. "Humph," said Caepio. They rode until the sun was overhead in the sky, having left the Via Valeria almost immediately to head southwest along the Anio in the direction of Sublaqueum. Silo insisted on setting a pace which enabled the infantry to keep up, though Caepio was so eager to see the rest of the gold that he resented dawdling. "It's safe, it isn't going anywhere," said Silo soothingly. "I would much rather that your troops be with us and not breathing hard-when we get there, Quintus Servilius for both our sakes." The country was rugged but negotiable; the miles went by until, not far short of Sublaqueum, Silo halted. "There!" he said, pointing to a hill on the far side of the Anio. "Behind that is the secret valley. There's a good bridge not far from here. We can cross safely." It was a good bridge, wide and made of stone; Caepio ordered his army across at full march, but remained in the lead. The road came up from Anagnia on the Via Latina to Sublaqueum, traversed the Anio at this point, and ended in Carseoli. Once the troops crossed the bridge they had a good road to walk on and stretched out in stride, quite enjoying their outing. Caepio's mood had told them long since that this was some sort of jaunt, no martial foray, so they kept their shields across their backs and used their spears as staves to ease the weight of their mail-shirts. Time was dragging on, they might have to camp in the rough and without food that night, but it was worth it not to be burdened by packs, and the general's attitude said some sort of reward was imminent. With the two legions strung out around the base of the hill as the road curved on its way northeast, Silo turned in his saddle to talk to Caepio. "I'll ride on ahead, Quintus Servilius," he said, "just to make sure everything is all right. I don't want anyone frightened into trying to bolt." Easing his own pace, Caepio watched as Silo kicked his horse into a canter and dwindled quickly in size; several hundred paces further up the road Silo turned off it and disappeared behind a small cliff. The Marsi fell upon Caepio's column from everywhere from the front, where Silo had vanished from the rear from behind every rock and stone and bank on both sides of the road. No one had a chance. Before shields could be stripped of their hide covers and swung to the front, before swords could be properly drawn and helms fitted upon heads, four legions of Marsi were amid the column in their thousands, laying about them as if engaged upon an exercise. Caepio's army perished to the very last man but one, and that one was Caepio himself, taken prisoner at the beginning of the attack, and forced to watch his troops die. When it was all over, when not a Roman soldier moved on the road and all around it, Quintus Poppaedius Silo rode back into Caepio's view, surrounded by his legates, including Scato and Fraucus. He was smiling widely. "Well, Quintus Servilius, what say you now?" White-faced and trembling, Caepio summoned every reserve. "You forget, Quintus Poppaedius," he said, "that I still hold your babies as my hostages." Silo burst out laughing. "My babies? No! They're the children of the slave couple you still hold. But I'll get them back and my ass. There's no one left in your camp to gainsay me." The eerie eyes glowed coldly, goldly. "But I won't bother to remove the ass's cargo. You can have that." "It's gold!" said Caepio, aghast. "No, Quintus Servilius, it is not gold. It's lead covered with the thinnest possible skin of gold. If you'd scraped it, you would have discovered the trick. But I knew my Caepio better than that! You couldn't bring yourself to put a scratch in a chunk of gold if your life depended upon it and your life did." He drew his sword, dismounted, strolled toward Caepio. Fraucus and Scato moved to Caepio's horse and pulled him from the saddle. Without saying a word, they divested him of cuirass and hardened leather under-dress. Understanding, Caepio began to weep desolately. "I would like to hear you beg for your life, Quintus Servilius Caepio," Silo said as he moved within striking distance. But that Caepio found himself unable to do. At Arausio he had run away, and never since had he found himself in a genuinely perilous situation, even when the Marsic raiding party had attacked his camp. Now he saw why they had attacked; they had lost a handful of men, but they had regarded their losses as worth it. Silo had seen the lay of the land, and laid his plans accordingly. Had Caepio searched his mind about this present ordeal, he might have concluded that he would indeed beg for his life. Now that the ordeal was happening, he found he could not. A Quintus Servilius Caepio might not be the bravest of Roman men, but he was nonetheless a Roman, and a Roman of high degree a patrician, a nobleman. A Quintus Servilius Caepio might weep, and who knew how much he wept for the cessation of his life, and how much for that lovely lost gold? But a Quintus Servilius Caepio could not beg. Caepio lifted his chin, drew a veil down across his gaze, and stared into nothing. "This is for Drusus," said Silo. "You had him killed." "I did not," said Caepio from a great distance. "I would have. But it wasn't necessary. Quintus Varius organized it. And a good thing too. If Drusus hadn't been killed, you and all your dirty friends would be citizens of Rome. But you're not. And you never will be. There are many like me in Rome." Silo raised the sword until his hand holding the hilt was slightly higher than his shoulder. "For Drusus," he said. Down came the sword into the side of Caepio's neck where it started to curve out into the shoulder; a huge piece of bone flew and struck Fraucus on the cheek, cutting it. But not so deeply as Silo's cut, down to the top of the sternum, through veins and arteries and nerves. Blood sprayed everywhere. But Silo was not finishe
d, and Caepio did not fall. Silo moved a little, raised his arm a second time, and repeated the blow to the other side of Caepio's neck. Down he went with Silo following to deliver the third stroke, which severed the head. Scato picked it up and rammed it crudely through the gullet onto a spear. When Silo was in the saddle again, Scato handed him the spear. The army of the Marsi moved off down the road toward the Via Valeria, Caepio's head sailing before them, seeing nothing. The rest of Caepio the Marsi left behind with Caepio's army; this was Roman territory, let the Romans clean up the mess. More important to make a getaway before Gaius Marius discovered what had happened. Of course the story Silo had told Caepio about a ten-legion attack upon Marius had been a fabrication- he had just wanted to see how Caepio reacted. Silo did send to the deserted camp outside Varia, however, and brought his slaves away together with their royally clad twin sons. And his donkey. But not the "gold." When that was unearthed inside Caepio's tent, everyone deemed it a part of the Gold of Tolosa, and wondered where the rest of it was. Until Mamercus came forward, and someone scraped the surface of the "gold" to bare the lead beneath, thus proving the truth of Mamercus's strange tale. For it was necessary that Silo inform someone what had really happened. Not for his own sake. For the sake of Drusus. So he had written to Drusus's brother, Mamercus.
2. The Grass Crown Page 50
