by Ben Kane
The immensely wealthy noble had defeated Spartacus the year before, ending the slave rebellion which had almost brought Rome to its knees. It was now common knowledge that the victory had been cleverly claimed by Pompey Magnus, his main rival. The lie had won him a full triumph from the Senate while Crassus had to be satisfied with a mere parade on foot. For months afterwards, the enraged Crassus had continually failed to regain the political advantage.
But recently he had skilfully manoeuvred to become joint consul with Pompey, and in an initial show of unity, the pair had restored the tribunate, which had been abolished by Sulla. Only plebeians could serve in these posts. With their rights to veto bills in the Senate and to convene public assemblies to pass laws of their own, the tribunes were immensely popular with the Roman public. The reform had been a clever move and Crassus had immediately used his new-found recognition to stir up resentment against Pompey in the Senate. At only thirty-six, his co-consul was legally too young to serve in the post. In addition, he had never even served as a senator. Pompey had quickly heard about Crassus' tactics and soon the pair were publicly disagreeing with each other. Instead of working together as they were supposed to, their rivalry had become more bitter than ever.
Tarquinius shivered.
There could be only one reason for Crassus' interest. The bronze liver.
Tarquin's sword. Caelius was planning to sell the sacred items to a man who wanted — needed — signs of divine approval.
He walked on, mind racing. Time was suddenly of the essence.
'Skiving again?' His leg manacles still in place, Maurus looked at Tarquinius sourly from his position halfway up a tree. In one hand the brown-skinned slave held a small, sharp knife to cut olives from the branches; he gripped the trunk with his other. A wicker basket hung from his back.
'The master know about this?'
'He's sent me to kill some wolves. Half a dozen in three days. Want to help?'
Maurus' face paled at the idea of physical danger.
Tarquinius mimed pulling back his bowstring and loosing an arrow. 'Keep picking, then.'
The gnarled trunks and busy workers were soon left behind as he climbed above the tree line to see the surrounding countryside that he knew and loved so well. Lake Vadimon sparkled in the sunlight and he drank in the view, momentarily putting aside his worries at Caelius' and Dexter's comments.
The powerful aroma of wild herbs filled Tarquinius' nostrils and he breathed deeply. Breaking off a small branch of rosemary from the nearest bush, he stuffed it into his pack to use later. The young man kept his eyes peeled for wolves, though it was unlikely he would see any in daytime. The predators lived in woods much higher on the mountain and came down to hunt only at dusk or dawn. He found traces of their passage here and there, in the form of spoor. There was even the carcass of an adult sheep near the track, bones picked clean of flesh by the birds. Only a jackal remained, sucking the marrow from a cracked femur. It darted away before he could string his bow.
Tarquinius worked his way to Olenus' hut, continuously scanning the sky and slopes for unusual signs. The first thing the old man would ask was what there had been to see on the climb. He counted eight buzzards hanging on thermals that swirled over the peak. Pleased there weren't twelve and that the clouds appeared innocuous in shape and number, Tarquinius clambered sure-footedly up the light scree covering the mountainside.
Spotting Olenus' tiny dwelling, his pace quickened. Despite the altitude, the temperature had been rising and he was looking forward to a rest. The makeshift hut where his mentor lived was built into the edge of a clearing, with commanding views south to the lake and beyond. It was one of Tarquinius' favourite places, full of good memories.
'Finally you grace me with your presence.'
He spun round to find Olenus standing on the track behind.
'How did you get there?' Tarquinius was so relieved to find the haruspex alive that he nearly hugged him.
Olenus smiled and adjusted his leather hat. 'I have my ways. Good to see you, boy. Notice anything on the way up?'
'Nothing much. A jackal. Eight buzzards.' Tarquinius made an apologetic gesture. 'I'd have come before, but the harvest took an age to bring in.'
'No matter. You are here now.' Olenus moved past smoothly. 'We have much to talk about and time is short.'
'I can't stay long.' Tarquinius tapped the bow hanging from his left shoulder. 'I've only got three days to hunt six wolves.'
'Just as well I have killed some then, eh?'
Olenus pointed at the drying racks outside the hut. Five distinctive grey pelts were stretched across their timbers.
'One wolf in three days? That'll be easy,' grinned Tarquinius. 'What's going on? You normally leave the hunting to me.'
The haruspex shrugged. 'A man gets bored talking to sheep all day.'
'You knew how many Caelius would demand?'
Olenus beckoned to him. 'Come and rest in the shade. You must be thirsty after the climb.'
Delighted by the revelation, Tarquinius followed Olenus to a log under the trees. The pair took their ease in silence, contemplating the view. The sun beat down, creating a haze that would eventually obscure the panorama below. Tarquinius drank and passed the leather water carrier to the haruspex.
'Any vivid dreams recently?'
Tarquinius half choked on the liquid in his mouth. 'What?'
'You heard.'
'I had one about you. In a cave. Maybe the one where the liver is kept.' He wrinkled his nose at the smell from the pelts. 'So I've seen it at last!'
'What else?'
'Nothing.' Tarquinius stared down at the impossible brightness of the lake.
'You make a terrible liar, boy.' Olenus chuckled. 'Scared to tell me that I will die soon?'
'I didn't see that.' A shiver ran down Tarquinius' spine at the haruspex' ability to read his mind. 'But Caelius and some soldiers were nearing the cave. It looked like they meant business.'
'He has sold knowledge of my presence to someone in Rome.'
'Crassus!' The name escaped Tarquinius' lips before he could stop it.
Olenus was unsurprised. 'He 's got enough money to run the latifundium for a year.' His gaze was piercing. 'Not bad for an old man, eh?'
Tarquinius struggled briefly with the concept. 'I thought he wanted the liver.'
'The bronze is of huge importance. Although it is Etruscan, the Romans would revere it highly,' agreed Olenus. 'With it, Crassus can use pet augurs to predict what he likes.' His contempt was obvious. 'And I am sure an aspiring general would love Tarquin's sword. Anything to become more popular than Pompey.'
'Why kill you?'
'Cleans everything up. After all, I'm an Etruscan haruspex,' Olenus cackled. 'And Romans don't like me. Too much of a reminder of the past.'
'How does he know about the artefacts?'
'Caelius suspects, but isn't sure.'
'So why hasn't he tortured you before now?'
'He was too scared. I have always made sure the slaves on the estate knew my predictions over the years. Crop failure, floods, disease. Caelius would have heard them too.'
Tarquinius nodded, remembering stories from his childhood about the haruspex who knew where lightning would strike, which cows would prove barren.
'But Caelius' financial worries have conquered his fear. He has sent you to make sure I am still here when the soldiers arrive.' Olenus twisted the lituus between withered hands, the golden bull's head on its top rotating gently. 'Doesn't leave much time to complete your studies.'
'No! You must flee,' Tarquinius said urgently. 'I'll come too. It'd be at least three days before we are missed. Caelius will never find us!'
'I cannot outrun destiny.' His voice was calm. 'It was so obvious on the liver in your dream. Those soldiers will kill me.'
'When?'
'Four days.'
Tarquinius' heart pounded in his chest. 'I'll finish Caelius myself,' he threatened.
'The legionaries will still co
me from Rome.'
'Then I'll stay here and fight them.'
'And die needlessly. You have many years of life and a great journey to make, Arun.'
It was pointless arguing. Tarquinius had never changed the old man's mind about anything. 'What journey?' he asked. 'You never mentioned that before.'
Olenus got up, wincing as his back straightened. 'Let us go to the cave.
Take your bow and pack. You can pick up those pelts and kill the last wolf on the way home.' He walked over and grabbed the lamb tied up by the hut.
The animal bleated plaintively as the rope was fastened around both its back legs and it was dangled over Olenus' shoulder.
Tarquinius followed the haruspex along the same track they had been on a few weeks before. They climbed in silence, until only the scrubby grass beloved by sheep and goats remained to cover the stony ground. The weather was much calmer than usual on the mountain and a few clouds sat unmoving overhead.
An eagle appeared over the crest of the ridge above, bringing a smile to Tarquinius' face. It was always a good omen to see the most regal of birds.
They were still picking their way up the steep slopes by early afternoon. A cool breeze kept temperatures bearable, but in the fields far below it would be a different matter.
Olenus came to a halt, a fine covering of sweat on his wrinkled forehead.
'You're in good shape, old man.' Glad of the rest, Tarquinius took a pull from his water bag.
'Sixty years living on this mountain.' Olenus scanned the harsh environment of rocks and the occasional bush which had survived the extremes of weather. It was desolate but beautiful. The sky had emptied of clouds, the only sign of life the bird of prey drifting on thermals. 'It's been a good place to live and it will be a good place to die.'
'Please stop talking like that!'
'Better get used to it, Arun. Haruspices have lived and died here since time immemorial.'
Tarquinius quickly changed the subject. 'Where is this cave?'
'Up there.' Olenus waved his lituus at the winding path. 'Another hundred paces.'
Teacher and pupil walked the last few steps to the entrance, hidden until they had virtually fallen into it. The narrow opening was barely wide enough for two men to stand abreast.
The young Etruscan gaped. He must have been past the aperture countless times searching for sheep, but nobody would ever find it unless they knew where to look. Then he smiled. The long years of waiting were nearly over.
'Mind your head.' The haruspex paused, muttering a prayer. 'The ceiling is quite low.'
Tarquinius followed Olenus, squinting as his eyes adjusted from the light outside. It was the cave in the dream, the interior just as plain as he remembered. The only evidence of human presence was a small ring fireplace in the centre of the floor.
Olenus put down the lamb, tying the rope round a large rock. He paced deeper inside, studying the wall. About thirty paces from the entrance, he stopped. With a grunt of effort, the old man reached up into a crevice with both hands, searching.
Tarquinius watched with fascination as the soothsayer pulled out a heavy oblong object wrapped in cloth. Olenus brushed off a thick layer of dust and turned to him.
'Still here!'
'The sacred liver?'
'The first one ever made by a haruspex,' replied Olenus solemnly. 'Bring the lamb.'
He led the way outside, stopping by a slab of black basalt that Tarquinius had noticed on the way in. Olenus set down the lituus and pulled a long dagger from his belt, laying it on the edge of the flat rock.
'That is just like the altar I saw in my dream!'
'There is another one, deep inside the cave.' Olenus unwrapped the bronze liver, placing it reverently beside the knife. 'But today's divination must be performed in sunlight.'
Tarquinius peered at the smooth lump of metal, coloured green with age. It was shaped exactly like the purple organ he had seen cut from butchered cattle and sheep. Bulging more on the right, the bronze had two triangular pieces protruding from its inner aspect, like different lobes of a real liver. The uppermost surface was covered in lines, dividing it into multiple areas. Spidery, cryptic symbols had been etched on each part. Having studied diagrams of the liver over and over again, Tarquinius found he could understand the inscribed words.
'It names the gods and stellar constellations!'
'All that time studying wasn't in vain, then.' Olenus took the rope from him. 'You read the whole Disciplina Etrusca twice, so you should know most of what I'm going to do.'
Tarquinius had spent countless hours spent poring over cracked parchments that Olenus kept in his hut. He had digested dozens of volumes, constantly encouraged by the old man leaning over him, indicating relevant paragraphs with long yellow fingernails. There had been three sets of books — the first, the Libri Haruspicini, was dedicated to divination from animal organs; the second, the Libri Fulgurates, dealt with interpretation of thunder and lightning. The last, the Libri Rituales, concerned Etruscan rituals and consecrations for cities, temples and armies.
'Gently, little one,' Olenus whispered.
The lamb pulled the rope taut, an alarmed look in its dark brown eyes.
Speaking reassuringly, the haruspex placed the animal on the centre of the basalt. 'We thank you for your life, which will help us understand the future.'
Tarquinius moved closer. He had seen Olenus perform sacrifices before, but not for some months. The haruspex had never used the bronze liver alongside a fresh offering. And although Tarquinius had tried divining many times after he had been hunting, they had only been practice runs, predicting things like weather and harvest yields.
'It is time.' Olenus picked up the dagger. 'Observe how a fresh liver may be read. Hold him properly.'
Tarquinius gripped the lamb's head and extended the neck towards Olenus. With a swift slash of the blade, the old man cut its throat. Dark red venous blood gushed on to the altar in a thick stream, spattering them in droplets.
'See how it flows to the east?' Olenus cried with glee as the liquid ran away. 'The omens will be auspicious!'
Tarquinius gazed eastward, to the sea. It was from across the water, from Lydia, that the Etruscans had come many centuries ago. According to ritual, the gods most favourably disposed towards humans also dwelt in that direction. Not for the first time, he felt a strong urge to journey to the ancestral homelands of his people.
Olenus laid the dead lamb on its back, exposing the belly. With deft movements, he sliced open skin and muscle from groin to ribcage. Shiny loops of gut spilled out, glistening in the sunlight.
Olenus pointed with the dagger. 'Mark the pattern as large and small intestine emerge to sit on the stone. Both should be a healthy pinkish-grey colour, like these. If they are not, it is likely the reading will be bad when you reach the animal's liver.'
'What else can you see?'
'The wave movement in the intestines is still strong, which is good.'
Tarquinius watched the regular pulses in the small bowel, moving along digested material in a futile attempt to stay alive. 'Anything else?'
The haruspex leaned closer. 'No. When I was a boy, old men used to claim they could interpret much from the bowel and the four stomachs. They were charlatans.'
Olenus reached inside the abdomen with both hands, using his knife to free the liver from its position against the diaphragm. A few swift cuts severed the large vessels anchoring it in place. Forearms covered in blood, he withdrew the organ, balancing its rounded surface on his left hand.
'O great Tinia! Give us good omens for the future of this Arun.' He raised his eyes to the heavens, searching for the eagle that had accompanied them earlier.
'What are you doing?' asked Tarquinius.
'Reading your life in the liver, boy,' Olenus cackled. 'What better way to complete your learning?'
Tarquinius held his breath for a long time, unsure. Then, as if compelled, he found himself taking in the words. It had been too many years to ho
ld back now, even when it was his own future being predicted.
'Most of what you can discern is on the inner surface. Mark the dog star, Sirius. This is the large bear, Ursa Major.'
He peered at the points indicated, his book learning beginning to make real sense. The haruspex spoke at length about interpretations to be made from the colour, shape and consistency of the glistening organ. To Tarquinius' astonishment, Olenus brought up many details of his childhood that he could not possibly have known. The old man recounted Tarquinius' whole life, pausing every so often to allow his pupil time to interpret.
'The gall bladder.' He poked a tear-shaped sac protruding from the liver's centre. 'Represents what is hidden. Sometimes it can be read, sometimes not.'
Tarquinius touched the warm bag of fluid. 'Is much visible?' It was the hardest part of the divination to perform and he had never made any sense from the livers he had practised on.
Olenus was silent for a few moments.
Heart racing, Tarquinius studied the haruspex' face. There was something there. He could feel it.
'I see you join the army and travel to Asia Minor. I see many battles.'
'When?'
'Soon.'
Tarquinius knew that the eastern region of Asia Minor had been a hotbed of rebellion and conflict for some time. A generation before, Sulla had soundly defeated Mithridates, the warlike king of Pontus, but his concerns about the uncertain political situation in Rome had made him pull back without delivering the final blow. Mithridates had bided his time, until four years previously when his armies had surged into Pergamum, the Roman province in the area. Lucullus, the general sent by the Senate, had achieved impressive victories since, but the war was still going on.
Amused by the idea of fighting for the Romans, Tarquinius felt a sharp nudge. 'Pay attention!' barked the old man. 'Years of travelling, learning. But eventually Rome draws you back. A desire for revenge.'
'On whom?'
'A fight.' Olenus seemed to be in a trance. 'Someone of high rank is killed.'
'By me?' Tarquinius asked suspiciously. 'Why?'
The answer came to him.
'A voyage to Lydia by ship. There two gladiators become your friends. Both brave men. You will become a teacher, like me.'
