by Laura Dowers
‘We are, Iunius, we are. Lucius thinks you are simple.’ Iunius made a noise of annoyance but Lucilla continued. ‘We know you are not. But your shyness has meant he doesn’t notice you, and that is good.’
‘I’ll show him just how simple I am,’ Iunius promised.
‘You wouldn’t say so if you had laboured to bring you into this world, and fretted over every cold and cough, and torn your hair out when you have got into fights. Iunius, I beg you, do nothing. We will be safe, I promise.’
Lucilla reached up and kissed her son several times, hoping she could convince him to heed her words. She knew he spoke the truth about Lucius, had subconsciously known it as soon as she heard her eldest son had been killed.
‘Then he gets away with it,’ Iunius declared hopelessly.
‘He will be punished by Poena,’ Lucilla promised. ‘The curse will work and Lucius will pay. He will suffer in the Underworld while we are in Elysium. Promise me, Iunius, that you will do nothing, that you will continue to be quiet and let them think you are simple. Only in that belief will we be truly safe.’
Lucilla saw her son’s lips purse and his brow furrow, his eyes fixed on the dead body behind her. She knew she was asking much of him, that he was struggling between wanting to avenge his brother and be a dutiful, loving son to her.
‘I promise, Mother,’ he said at last and Lucilla released him from her grasp, content he was safe from Lucius’s wickedness.
21
‘I want to go to war,’ Lucius declared, putting his feet up on the footstool and cupping his hands behind his head. He watched Manius and noted the slight change of expression. ‘Why not?’
‘Wars are costly,’ Manius said after a moment, not looking up.
‘Wars are necessary, Manius,’ Lolly said, examining her stitching on a cushion she was embroidering. ‘They make Rome great. Greater,’ she amended with a smile at Lucius.
‘There are other ways to do that, lady,’ Manius said. ‘Treaties and alliances.’
‘How like my father you sound,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘He always went on about alliances and how they secured peace for Rome. We don’t want peace, do we, Lucius?’
‘Peace doesn’t make you rich,’ Lucius said, arching his back and moaning as his spine cracked.
‘Who do you want to go to war with this time?’ Manius asked.
‘The Volsci, to begin with.’
‘The Volsci. They will be a formidable enemy, Lucius.’
‘Then we’ll be well matched. Our Roman ranks have been swelled by the Latins, haven’t they? If we go to war, the Latins will go with us. Why do you think I staged that charade in Ferentina? I wasn’t interested in making friends just for the sake of it.’
‘No, I realised that,’ Manius said, only just managing to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. ‘You have a strategy against the Volsci?’
‘We’ll move against Suessa Pometia,’ Lucius nodded. ‘That’s the richest Volscian city.’
‘And carry off all their wealth,’ Manius said, ‘and do what with it?’
Lucius glanced at Lolly, but she was busy with her needlework and didn’t look up. He had promised to buy her a new litter — she complained the old one smelt musty and the fabric was threadbare — and to give each of the children a slave of their very own. She would have those, of course, but Suessa Pometia, he felt sure, would provide enough wealth for his main project. ‘I’m going to put what we get from the Volsci towards building the temple to Jupiter Optimus Maximus that Grandfather always talked about and never managed.’
‘Does Rome need another temple?’ Manius wondered.
Lucius knew Manius would prefer the wealth to be spent on making the streets better, covering the mud with stones so the people could walk on them without walking in sludge during the winter months, and in reinforcing the city walls, some of which were crumbling and leaving the city exposed. ‘We cannot honour the gods enough,’ Lucius said. ‘And besides, my grandfather made a promise to Jupiter. If I don’t do it, Jupiter will not favour us.’
‘And the Tarquins need all the help they can get,’ Manius said with a laugh. The smile fell from his face as he caught Lucius’s eye. ‘I mean, the curse laid upon your family… all those years ago…’ he trailed off.
‘My grandmother successfully countered that curse,’ Lucius said stonily. ‘It has never adversely affected us.’
‘And the people will be pleased,’ Lolly piped up. ‘The site for the temple has lain empty for years and has become a veritable midden. Every pleb throws their rubbish there and the senate has become riddled with complaints about the rats. Building the temple will mean the site will be cleared, solving that problem, and will provide work for very many people. So you see, Manius, Lucius only has the people’s welfare in mind.’
‘Yes, lady,’ Manius said, ‘I see that now. Thank you for explaining it to me so clearly.’
Lolly smiled sweetly. ‘Not at all, Manius. We can’t have you leave here getting the wrong idea about your king, can we?’
Lucius shielded his eyes against the sun and surveyed the area ahead of him. The site on the Capitoline Hill had been cleared of all rubbish, the last of the debris swept away and burnt three weeks previously. The site was not flat enough, and so Lucius had ordered the ground to be flattened, and the old, rotting Sabine shrines to be removed. This done, the diggers had now moved in and there were hundreds of them, made up of Roman workmen and Volscian slaves captured during the war and brought to Rome as part of Lucius’s triumph. The foundations were almost complete and soon timber would be brought in and stone. How long, he wondered, before the temple would be finished? Five years, ten? It didn’t really matter how long it took. He’d already achieved what he wanted for the plebs were already praising him for the project. How like children they were.
He had been right to war with the Volsci. His victory over them how brought him much wealth. Not only was the temple underway, but Lolly had her new litter and the children their slaves. There had been enough riches to redecorate the whole of the domus with new frescoes and new furniture, and stout money chests had even had to be bought to hold what was left over. And it had been so easy to beat the Volsci. They had all but given up when they saw how big an army Rome had.
Lucius walked around the building site, acknowledging the bows of the diggers as he passed. Someone called out ‘My lord,’ and he turned to see Manius hurrying towards him. He sighed. Lucius was growing mightily tired of Manius, always complaining, always criticising.
‘What is it?’
‘My lord king,’ Manius said, careful to use the title in the presence of plebeians, ‘the senate has received word from the Gabii. They’ve rejected the treaty you made with Bellus and the other Latin leaders. They refuse to come under Roman rule.’
Lucius snatched the paper Manius held out to him and scanned it. There was too much to bother reading. ‘What reason do they give?’ he demanded, thrusting it back at Manius.
‘No reason,’ Manius said, rolling the paper up. ‘Perhaps they don’t think they need to give one.’
‘Bellus said they would all agree,’ Lucius snarled. ‘He promised me he would see to it.’
‘We could send some senators to Gabii. Negotiate a treaty they will find acceptable.’
‘Negotiate?’ Lucius spat in his face. ‘I don’t negotiate, Manius. I rule.’
‘But if they won’t—’
‘We’ll fight them. Subdue them. Make them bow their heads to Roman rule.’
‘Another war?’ Manius said.
‘Yes, damn you, another war. I’ll have the Gabii wealth just like I’ve had the Volscian. And if you don’t like it, Manius, then you can piss off back to your estate in the country.’
Lucius was beginning to wonder whether he hadn’t been a little precipitant in declaring war on Gabii. It had seemed such an easy thing to declare when Manius had told him of their opposition that day at the temple building site.
But Gabii was different f
rom the Volsci. The Volscian territory had been open, exposed. Gabii was a fortress, easy for the inhabitants to defend. Their walls were thick, perhaps as much as fifteen feet thick, and high too. The Roman ladders had been repulsed almost as soon as they were put to the walls, missiles ranging down on those attempting to climb and those at the bottom holding the ladders in place. Lucius had to order his men back and try a different strategy. He had tried to break down the gates and found them almost as strong. Their efforts had resulted in holes and splinters, but the gates still stood, defiant against the Roman army.
Manius had implored Lucius to give up, to forget about the Gabii and return to Rome. Let Gabii stand alone, he said. They would soon realise that such isolation was bad for trade. They would be the poorer for not joining with Rome. They’d probably be begging for a treaty in a year or two.
Lucius had heard enough from Manius about diplomacy. Talk, talk, talk, that was all Manius ever wanted to do. Lucius, enraged, struck Manius, telling him not to be a coward. Manius, clutching his face more in shock than pain, refuted the accusation, but it hadn’t stopped Lucius turning his back on him. Cossus was standing at Lucius’s side and had smiled with pleasure at the snub Manius received.
Manius had had enough. He was sick of Lucius and he was sick of Cossus. He asked to be relieved of his position as adviser and Lucius agreed without hesitation. Manius went to his tent to pack, stuffing his belongings anyhow into his bag. He would return to his country estate and stay there. Let Lucius have his wars and his temples. Let him drag Rome down. Manius no longer cared.
‘We need a new strategy,’ Cossus declared, surveying a crudely drawn map of the Gabii stronghold. ‘We’re not going to get in through the gates for a while. They can’t hold forever but how long do we want to wait?’
Lucius didn’t answer. Cossus twisted on his stool. ‘Stop thinking about him. Manius was a pain in the arse. It’s best he went back to his shit-hole of a farm.’
‘It’s not a shit-hole,’ Lucius muttered. He shouldn’t have lost his temper with his old friend. Now, he only had Cossus for company and advice, and as Manius had once sagely said, a little of Cossus went a long way. Lucius already wanted Manius back, but there was no way he was going to apologise.
‘Whatever you say. But he’s gone. Be glad of it. I bloody well am.’
‘That’s obvious.’
‘We don’t need him. Never did. Now, can I have your attention on what we’re going to do about Gabii?’
Lucius walked over to Cossus and stared down at the map. ‘Well, if we can’t breach the walls nor the gates in good time, what else is there?’
‘You’re the military genius, you tell me.’ Cossus shoved the map towards Lucius.
‘Maybe…’ Lucius mused, raising his eyes to the tent’s ceiling. He didn’t speak for a long while.
Cossus, bored with waiting, demanded, ‘Maybe what?’
‘The prophecy,’ Lucius said cryptically.
‘What prophecy?’
‘The one the Sibyl sold me,’ Lucius said excitedly. ‘It said an enemy of Rome would need to be defeated by cunning. We didn’t know what it referred to at the time but what if it meant this? Now?’
‘You place too much faith in soothsayers,’ Cossus shook his head and pulled the map back to lay before him.
‘This wasn’t any old soothsayer, you fool, this was the Sibyl of Cumae. Yes, this was what the book meant. The Gabii need to be defeated by cunning.’
‘All right, so, you have to be cunning. That should be easy enough for you.’
The insult went unnoticed. ‘Let me think,’ Lucius said, pacing up and down the small tent. ‘By means of cunning…’
Sextus yawned as he pissed into the pot. He wasn’t at all sure he liked being a soldier. He missed his comfortable bed and his food being cooked the way he liked. He missed being able to rise when he felt like it and having clean clothes to put on. He wondered whether he should ask his father if he could return to Rome, but he suspected his mother would turn him around and make him come straight back.
His tent flap opened and Cossus entered. Sextus didn’t like Cossus. He always felt Cossus was laughing at him for he made fun of Sextus’s fair complexion and mocked him for his liking for soft living. ‘You’re up at last,’ Cossus said. ‘Come. Your father wants you.’
Sextus, wondering what he had done wrong now, followed Cossus out of the tent and to his father’s. His father was waiting for him. He doesn’t look particularly grim, Sextus thought, so maybe I’m not going to be told off.
‘Cossus said you wanted to see me, Father,’ Sextus said.
‘My boy,’ Lucius said, kissing Sextus on both cheeks. ‘I need you to do something for me. Come and sit down.’ Lucius led Sextus to a stool and they both sat. ‘It’s not going to be pleasant.’
‘What’s not?’ Sextus asked warily.
‘We can’t break through the Gabii defences, so we’re going to have to try something different.’ Lucius rose and moved to a table at the rear of the tent. He stretched out an arm and picked something up. Sextus strained to see what it was. ‘It will be painful for you. I’m sorry about that but it can’t be helped. Oh, you look scared, Sextus. Don’t be. It will be painful but the pain won’t last long, I promise.’
‘What, Father?’ Sextus cried, his voice coming out high and girlish. He shot a glance at Cossus who grinned at him.
‘You’re going to be whipped, Sextus,’ Lucius said quite matter-of-factly. ‘The skin on your back will be broken. You will bleed. It will be a punishment.’ He put a black leather whip on the table.
‘What have I done wrong?’ Sextus asked, eyeing the whip warily.
‘You haven’t done anything wrong, my boy,’ Lucius assured him. ‘But it must look as if you’ve been punished.’
‘And if you shut up, you’ll find out why,’ Cossus growled.
‘Don’t talk to me like that, you dog,’ Sextus shouted at him, but Cossus only laughed the harder.
‘Sextus,’ Lucius said calmingly, shooting a disapproving glance at Cossus, ‘listen. You will appear to have left this camp angry with me. You will go to the Gabii and show them what I have done to you. They will be sympathetic.’
‘Will they?’ Sextus said doubtfully.
‘They will,’ Lucius assured him. ‘You will tell them what a cruel father I am. Then, you will make them an offer. You will act as go-between. You will help them negotiate a peace between us. They must be growing desperate inside their city by now. They will worry their food will run out. They may even have sickness. They will want to negotiate, I promise you.’
‘But why should they listen to me?’ Sextus whined. He really didn’t want to go to the enemy camp. Now more than ever, he wished he had been allowed to stay at home.
‘They’ll listen. You have charm, Sextus, when you choose. Use it.’
‘Yes, Father,’ Sextus said reluctantly.
‘Good. Now, take off your tunic and we’ll go outside. Cossus, bring the whip.’
Sextus followed his father outside.
‘No blubbing, now,’ Lucius said. ‘I won’t have you showing me up in front of the men.’
‘I won’t,’ Sextus protested fiercely, wondering why his whipping had to be public.
Lucius held out his hand and Cossus put the whip into it. He eyed Sextus hungrily as if he wanted to lay the blows himself rather than let Lucius do it. Cossus tied Sextus’s wrists with a length of rope and then led him to a thick stake set into the ground. Sextus’s arms were raised above his head and tied to a metal ring. Cossus slipped a leather strip between his teeth.
‘Remember what I said,’ Lucius said as he moved behind Sextus.
Sextus’s face creased with the anticipation of pain. The first blow hurt more than he could ever have imagined.
Lucius tapped his fingers upon the table and stared into the darkness of his tent. He couldn’t get the image of blood running down his son’s back out of his mind. But he had been right, hadn’t he? It
was the only way to break this impasse and gain victory over the Gabii. Sextus would be all right once the wounds started to heal. He had been proud of Sextus. He hadn’t blubbed, hadn’t cried out. He had taken the strokes like a man. But what would Lolly say when she found out? Lucius wondered. Would she agree with him? Or would she say he was a monster to have wounded his own son so?
‘He’ll be fine,’ Cossus said, making Lucius start. He had forgotten Cossus was waiting with him.
‘Will he?’
‘He’ll have some scars to show off. Women love ‘em.’
‘What if they kill him?’ Lucius asked. ‘The Gabii. What if they don’t believe him and kill him?’
Cossus shrugged, unable to answer and not caring either. He turned his attention back to his sword, pushing the whetstone along its edge to make it sharp.
‘Can’t you stop that?’ Lucius cried after a minute. ‘That noise is driving me mad.’
Cossus curled his lip and threw down both the whetstone and the sword. ‘Let’s get out of this tent. You’re cooped up, that’s why you’re so uptight.’
Reluctantly, Lucius followed Cossus out of the tent and to the field behind the camp. It was uncultivated and the grass grew high, almost to their waists. In between the grass, wild poppies grew, their bright red heads seeming to bow to Lucius as he approached. He wandered amongst the grass and flowers for a while, breathing in their scent, feeling his muscles relax a little.
‘Lucius!’ Cossus suddenly called and Lucius turned. With a start, he saw Sextus at Cossus’s side, and he hurried forward, his arms outstretched.
‘Sextus,’ he cried joyfully, surprising himself at how pleased he was to see his youngest son. ‘They didn’t hurt you?’ Oh, the irony, he thought, as he saw Sextus wince, his tunic probably rubbing against his wounds.
‘No, Father, they didn’t,’ Sextus confirmed and gestured with his eyes to the man who stood a little behind him.
Lucius looked the stranger over, noting the twitchy hand on the sword hilt, the wary eyes. ‘Who is this?’
