by Laura Dowers
‘Dominus, there is a man demanding to see you.’
‘What man?’
‘He would not give his name, but he looks like a beggar.’
‘Oh,’ Tullus groaned, ‘don’t bother me with it. Feed him and send him on his way.’
‘He doesn’t want food, dominus. We’ve offered and he’s refused. He insists on seeing you.’
Tullus frowned. He was not used to having demands made upon him by beggars but this man gave him a good reason for excusing himself from his wife’s guests. He told the slave he would come and made a slurred apology to the diners. He followed the slave to the atrium, wondering what kind of beggar had the effrontery to go to the front door rather than the back.
The slave held back as Tullus entered the atrium. The beggar was crouched before the shrine as if he was praying, but he had no right to pray to Tullus’s household gods and Tullus grew angry. ‘What do you mean by demanding to see me?’ he asked loudly.
The beggar turned to face him, lifted his arm and threw back the hood of his cloak.
Tullus’s stared, open-mouthed. His hand flew instinctively to his hip, reaching for the sword that was not there.
‘Will you hear me?’ Caius asked quietly, spreading his hands to show he carried no weapon.
‘Hear you?’ Tullus cried. ‘You come here, into my home—’
‘You should strike me dead,’ Caius nodded. ‘I know. All I ask is that you hear me first. If my words do not satisfy you, then you must kill me.’
‘Fetch the men,’ Tullus ordered the slave, who was looking from his master to the stranger in utter perplexity. He hurried away, leaving Tullus and Caius alone.
‘I mean you no harm,’ Caius said.
‘You expect me to believe that,’ Tullus scoffed. ‘You have done me much harm over the years.’
‘I know. But the Fates have altered my life.’
Tullus’s eyes narrowed. ‘I heard you had been exiled from Rome.’
‘And delighted in the news, I daresay,’ Caius managed a wry smile.
‘No,’ Tullus admitted, surprising himself.
Before he could say more, the slave returned with three burly men close behind. Tullus ordered them to take hold of his unexpected visitor. They obeyed and Caius, offering no resistance, was forced to his knees. The slave had had the sense to snatch up a long knife from the kitchen on his journey to fetch the men and he handed it now to his master.
Tullus walked slowly towards Caius and held the blade to his throat. ‘I will hear you, Caius Marcius, and then I will kill you.’
Caius did not flinch from the blade but raised his eyes to Tullus. ‘I am an enemy to Rome. I have been an enemy to you, but no more. If you will have me, I would join with you in attacking Rome in any way I can and so have my revenge.’
Tullus pressed the blade into the skin of Caius’s throat. A thin line of blood crept onto the metal. ‘What kind of fool do you think I am?’
‘No kind of fool. You are the only man I could trust to understand.’
Tullus withdrew the knife a little. ‘Understand what?’
‘What it means to be a soldier. To live for killing and have the honour to kill for your country. And what it means when that country, for whom you have spilt your own blood, turns against you.’
‘I could not believe the news when I heard of your banishment,’ Tullius admitted. ‘I wondered what the people of Rome could be thinking of to treat you so impiously.’
‘The people don’t think,’ Caius spat, his anger renewed. He struggled to control himself. ‘That doesn’t matter. All that matters is what happens now to Rome.’
‘And for that you need me?’
‘The only man I can trust.’
Tullus laughed. ‘What makes you think you can trust me?’
‘Because we are both sons of Mars. We are so alike, I feel you inside me, as if we are one.’
Tullus stared at him. ‘Do you truly mean what you say? You want to have your revenge on Rome?’
‘It’s all I want. The desire consumes me.’
Tullus’s arm dropped to his side. He turned on his heel and walked around the atrium, rubbing his chin, thinking. Caius remained on his knees, watching him, saying nothing.
Tullus didn’t know what to think. If this was a trick of Rome’s, he couldn’t see the point of it. His mind was fuzzy; he wished he hadn’t drunk so much. Was he being made a fool of? Was he being a fool to even listen to this man, the Volsci’s worst enemy, the man he had tried to kill on at least twelve separate occasions? He looked at Caius and tried to find the truth in the handsome face. He knew this man, he knew him. To deceive in an underhand manner would be impossible for him. Tullus knew it as well as he knew his own self. And how often had he dreamed about standing side by side with Caius rather than against him, dreams he had been ashamed to admit to himself in the morning? He looked closer at Caius. Were those tears he saw in those tired eyes?
Tullus sank to his knees before Caius and stared into his face. The scrutiny seemed too much for Caius for he turned his head away in embarrassment, but Tullus grabbed his face and kissed him full on the mouth, feeling Caius’s cracked lips press against his.
‘You will help me have my revenge on Rome?’ Caius asked, needing confirmation.
Tullus nodded. ‘I will.’
25
Menenius had barely stepped through the doorway when Volumnia came towards him in a rush. ‘Have you heard anything yet?’
She looks ill, Menenius thought as he took her hands. ‘Nothing,’ he said, apologetically. ‘Caius left the farm more than four weeks ago. I’ve written to everyone I can think of. No one has seen him. The last bit of news I have managed to glean is that he was heading towards Antium.’
Volumnia tugged her hands away with a cry. ‘Why would he go there?’
‘I couldn’t say,’ Menenius lied. He didn’t want to say what he feared, that Caius had become so unhappy that he had decided to put himself in harm’s way. Once in Volscian territory, his life would not be worth a fig.
Menenius followed Volumnia through to the triclinium. Virgilia was already there, Little Caius on her lap, her arms clutched tight around him. She looked up at Menenius and asked the same question as Volumnia. He gave her the same answer.
‘Do you know why he would go there?’ Volumnia asked her accusingly. ‘Did he ever say anything to you about Antium?’
Virgilia shook her head. ‘No, never.’
‘Then, why?’ Volumnia cried desperately.
‘You must not torment yourself with such questions,’ Menenius said, taking a seat. ‘We cannot know the answers.’
Volumnia curled her bottom lip over her teeth. ‘I think I should go and find him.’
Menenius was astonished. ‘You, leave Rome? Alone? You’re mad.’
Volumnia laughed. ‘Yes, I am mad without Caius. I cannot bear it.’ She started crying, her head in her hands. Virgilia put an arm around her shoulder carefully, fighting back her own tears.
‘This is not like you, Volumnia,’ Menenius said, genuinely worried by what he was witnessing. ‘You have always been so strong.’
‘Not without him,’ Volumnia sniffed.
‘Caius would not want you to be like this, I am sure.’
‘I cannot help it. I have lost my boy.’
Menenius patted her hand, hoping to comfort her. But in truth, there was little comfort he could offer. ‘I am addressing the Senate house tomorrow,’ he said, in a tone he hoped conveyed hopefulness. ‘I will speak again for Caius’s banishment to be ended.’
‘What makes you think they will listen this time?’ Virgilia asked.
Menenius was surprised by the coldness in her voice. It was so unlike her. ‘I can but hope, my dear.’
‘And meantime, my husband goes we know not where. He may even be dead, for all we know.’
‘I am sure Caius is alive,’ he said, hoping he sounded surer than he felt. ‘If there is one thing Caius is good at it is staying aliv
e, we know that. Take heart, Volumnia. You will see your boy again, I am sure of it.’
‘You promise?’ Volumnia asked, looking up at him with puffy, bloodshot eyes.
May the gods protect me from my lies, he thought as he repeated his assurance.
Steam rose lazily in the bathhouse and Caius leant back against the edge of the pool, feeling warmed through for the first time in many weeks. He had never been one for soft living back in Rome, but after his deprivation, and in Tullus’s company, he was discovering a new liking for comfort and luxury.
‘I disgusted your wife that first night,’ he said, remembering his arrival at Tullus’s domus. ‘She called me filthy and lice-ridden. Am I clean enough for her now, do you think?’
Tullus grinned from the other side of the pool. ‘Don’t you mind about her.’
‘But she was right, I was foul. I must have smelt like a pleb.’
‘May the gods forbid such a thing. You’re looking better too. Your bones aren’t sticking out as much as they were.’
‘I hadn’t realised how little I’d been eating. You have been very generous with your food and wine.’
Tullus crossed to Caius’s side of the pool, the water rippling around him. He pointed to the diagonal scar on Caius’s left breast. ‘Was that one of mine?’
Caius glanced down to where Tullus was pointing. ‘Possibly,’ he said. ‘I forget.’
Tullus ran his finger slowly over the raised, red skin. Caius watched him through half-closed eyes, enjoying the feeling.
But Tullus suddenly drew back. ‘I’ve had to keep your presence here a secret, you know,’ he said, a little too loudly. ‘If the elders had known you were here, you would have been arrested. But now I’m sure of you, I think it’s time I presented you to them. I can’t guarantee they’ll accept you as I have done. They may kill you.’
‘I’ll take that risk. I have good hope, though, with you at my side.’
Tullus shook his head in wonderment. ‘I never thought this would happen.’
‘Nor I.’
‘But I am glad of it. The elders have been reluctant to move against Rome, what with so many cities giving in without a fight, and the beating you gave us last time. But with you here and the proposition you have made me, they will think again. With you beside me, our success is inevitable.’
‘If the gods are with us,’ Caius said.
Tullus grinned. ‘What need we of gods, Marcius? But,’ he added, when he saw consternation cross Caius’s face, ‘if you prefer, we will bind ourselves to the gods and to one another.’
He reached over the edge of the pool and grabbed a small knife from off a plate of figs. Caius watched him with curiosity. Tullus drew the blade across his palm. His blood seeped out slowly, too slowly, and he curled his fingers to force out more. Blood dripped from his palm to spread in the water below and he held the knife out to Caius. Caius took the knife and cut his own palm, waiting until the wound bled profusely. Tullus wrapped his fingers around Caius’s and they pressed their palms together, their blood mingling, each warming the other.
‘I swear before the gods to stand by your side and lay waste to Rome and all her dominions,’ Tullus said.
‘And I swear to fight by your side,’ Caius said, ‘to be your brother in arms, your lover in warfare, your other self and to bring Rome to her knees. As a son of Mars, I make this oath.’
They kept their hands together until the blood dried and crusted, until the water cooled and their skin wrinkled. They would have stayed that way all night had not Junia entered and bid them get dressed for dinner was on the table.
His heart was fluttering in his chest. Caius couldn’t remember being this nervous before, not even when he first went into battle all those years ago. Excited, yes, apprehensive, but not nervous. He had no idea if he would be accepted by the elders of Antium. If not, then these minutes could very well be his last, and he without a sword in his hand to defend himself. It was not a situation he welcomed. He didn’t mind dying but he needed to have his revenge on Rome first.
Tullus had told him to wait in the adjoining room where he couldn’t be seen from the atrium, and not to come out until he called for him. Tullus had summoned the elders to his domus, not telling them why, just insisting they attend. One by one, the elders had come, and Caius had heard each demand to know what Tullus meant by summoning them to his home. Caius got the distinct impression they thought Tullus impudent, and that made him smile; he and Tullus were so alike. He heard Tullus say that what he was about to show them would surprise them but that they were not to be alarmed. And then Tullus called, ‘Come out.’ Taking a deep breath, Caius entered the atrium.
‘This is Caius Marcius,’ Tullus declared proudly, grinning at Caius.
Caius could not return the smile. His attention was entirely focused on the gasps and cries of outrage. Some of the elders even stepped forward as if to grab him, but his expression had become fierce and defensive and they stayed where they were.
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ Tullus said, moving to stand by Caius’s side. ‘I thought the same when Marcius walked into my home and demanded to see me. That night, I put a blade to his throat and threatened to cut. But he bid me listen, and I did. And after I had listened, I withdrew my blade and sheathed it. For know this, Caius Marcius has become my brother and my friend. And if you will but listen to him as I did, you will find him a friend to all the Volsci.’
‘Are you mad?’ one of the elders demanded.
‘Not mad, no,’ Tullus assured him with a smile, ‘I just have a better understanding than you. But let me explain. We have heard of how Marcius was banished from Rome and wondered how she could do such a thing. But we should have known better. Rome is a cruel mother. Did she not turn against her king not long ago? We in Antium are not so cruel. We would not turn away anyone who professes to be our friend, which is what Marcius has sworn to me he now is. And he has sworn more. Caius Marcius has sworn to attack Rome and, when she is won, to give her to the Volsci.’
‘Why should he do so?’ another man scoffed.
‘I’ll let him speak for himself,’ Tullus said, gesturing for Caius to address the elders.
Caius licked his lips for they had become dry. ‘I do so because I no longer have any allegiance to Rome. She forsook me, so I have disowned her.’
‘But you have family in Rome, do you not?’ the man asked.
Caius nodded. ‘A mother, a wife, a son.’
‘And yet you want to attack her? Are you not afraid for your family’s safety?’
‘I ask for my family to be spared, if possible. If not...’, he shrugged. ‘Every war has casualties. They will understand.’
The elders looked at him unbelievingly. Caius glanced at Tullus, curious to see if he too did not believe he would sacrifice his family for his revenge. But Tullus knew him, understood him. He saw belief in Tullus’s eyes.
‘Why should we believe this Roman?’ an elder asked.
‘He is no longer a Roman,’ Tullus said, ‘he is a Volsci. And because this man does not lie.’
‘Aufidius, he has bewitched you,’ another man said.
‘There has been no sorcery. Marcius has opened my eyes to what is possible for the Volsci. Are we to miss this opportunity the gods have given us because we are too stupid to see beyond past grievances? We hold Rome’s fate in our hands. Accept Marcius and put me in charge of the army. With Marcius at my side, we will beat Rome into the very earth from which she rose and raise a Volsci city over her.’
Aufidius makes a good speech, Caius thought as he watched the elders discuss the matter. He could be a politician if he put his mind to it. He had had enough of this spectacle. He wanted to disappear back into the other room, away from their searching, sceptical eyes. He could do it too, but knew it would not look good for Tullus if he did. He reluctantly stayed where he was, and waited for the verdict.
It came a few minutes later. The chief elder stepped forward. ‘We agree,’ he said.
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br /> 26
Menenius blew his nose on his handkerchief and examined the contents before tucking it into the sleeve of his tunic. He wasn’t feeling well; he had had a cold for more than two weeks now, seemed to have a perpetual headache, a continually running nose and worst of all, had lost his sense of taste so that he was not even enjoying his food these days.
The news from the Senate did nothing to lift his mood. He had neglected his duties in the Senate since falling ill. Up until that point, he had been assiduous, not only in routine matters but in speaking for Caius and asking for his banishment to be lifted. His pleas had continued to fall on deaf ears, so much so that he had become wary of irritating his fellow senators and had made an appeal only once a week. Having no good news to report, he had called less frequently at the Marcius domus, for it upset him to see Volumnia so anxious and Virgilia become so hard. How would the women take this latest news from the Senate, he wondered?
Menenius had refused to believe the rumours when the first reports of attacks on Rome’s colonies began to filter through to the Senate. Survivors of these attacks arrived in Rome seeking sanctuary and they spoke of two fearsome Volscian commanders. They described them in detail and it became clear that one was Tullus Aufidius. But the other? From the descriptions given, the other sounded like Caius. But how was that possible? Caius become a commander in the Volscian army? It was nonsense. Wasn’t it?
But the Senate had received confirmation. It was Caius Marcius.
The more Menenius thought about it, the more he realised he should have seen this coming. Caius had been moulded by his mother to be a fighter. Once he’d pulled himself together and got over the shock of exile, he would rally and refuse to accept banishment without a fight. He would need help, Caius would know that, and to whom would he apply for help but to the man who so closely resembled him in ability and determination? That Tullus Aufidius was Rome’s avowed enemy would make Caius’s revenge all the sweeter.
Caius and the Volsci were working their way through Roman territory towards Rome herself. The dispatch from the Senate said the army had reached Lavinium, not twenty miles away, no distance at all. They could be attacking Rome within the next few days and the Senate were panicking.
