‘You won’t go hungry, young man, while there’s food in Rome; not with a sword like yours,’ the girl answered impudently.
‘You see, Perperna? Even slaves mock me. That’s because I am only a simple Latin ploughboy, not a ferocious Etruscan noble.’
‘I never raped three sisters in one evening. If I had I would not boast about it, as you do. The girl is angry only because you haven’t yet raped her, and that will soon be put right.’
These ruffians must be answered in their own language.
Supper was as plentiful as usual, for they were still eating last year’s grain. When the wine-bowl had begun its travels the King himself entered the hall and called for silence. As a rule he gave his orders at the morning parade, and the celeres listened quietly to this unexpected speech.
‘Something seems to have gone wrong with our luck,’ Romulus said easily. ‘It’s nothing to worry about. The gods aren’t really angry, or I should know it. All the same, we need more barley than has grown in our fields this year, so we shall just have to take it from those who have it. Mars has already put a splendid plan into my head. I want twenty volunteers who can ride over rough ground in the dark, and perhaps slit a throat in the morning. Now don’t all shout at once.’
This King Romulus might be a bit of a brigand, Perperna thought to himself, but he was certainly a cunning warleader. The men of Fidenae had been wrong to rely on those newfangled gates in their city wall. Most gates move on a stone pivot which fits into a stone socket; but a stranger who came to Fidenae had shown the citizens how to hang their gates from leather hinges fastened to iron hooks. Such gates were more easily opened and shut, stray pebbles could not jam the workings, and the few inches of clearance above the ground made a novel spyhole from which to watch besiegers; besides, leather hinges were the latest fashion among the more cultured cities beyond the eastern sea. But leather can be cut by the sword.
Romulus, or possibly his father Mars, had thought out the scheme. The little party of celeres, creeping up in the dark, cut through the leather hinges without disturbing the city watch. When the main gate was unbarred in the morning both doors at once fell outwards to leave a broad gap in the stout wall; and a few minutes later the whole citizen-levy of Rome was marching steadily for the entry. The outnumbered men of Fidenae must fight in the open, with no help from their massive wall. Rather than accept slavery for themselves and their families they would die fighting; but they very wisely offered to negotiate before blows struck in anger should bring undying blood-feud between Fidenae and Rome.
Romulus had no time to waste. Tomorrow, unless peace was made at once, Veii and perhaps the whole Etruscan League would be on the march to help Fidenae. The terms offered were generous. Fidenae must forsake the Etruscan League and acknowledge the leadership of Rome; her stored barley would be shared (but the Romans would pay in cattle for what they took); a number of the citizens must emigrate to Rome, leaving their houses and ploughlands for the Romans who would replace them.
Fidenae accepted these terms. Before midday the Roman garrison was installed in its new home, and the main army was marching back to the Palatine.
When next Perperna dropped in to see Marcus the talk turned naturally to this latest stroke of foreign policy. Of course Marcus was pleased to know that there would be food for the winter; but he was not so sure, now that it had happened, that he approved of unprovoked aggression against a peaceful neighbour.
‘They had done us no harm, and they thought they were at peace with us,’ he said unhappily. ‘It’s not like the old days, in the beginning, when everyone knew we were at war with the whole world. Now it’s going to be very difficult to trade with foreign cities.’
‘It was a dashing exploit, all the same,’ Perperna said cheerfully. ‘It was clever of the King to spot the weakness in these new gates.’
‘It’s over and done with, and can’t be altered,’ Marcus continued mournfully. ‘This bread I am eating was stolen, and if I didn’t eat it I should be hungry. But I wish we hadn’t been so hard on those people, whom we overcame only because we took them by surprise.’
‘Hard on them?’ Perperna exclaimed in genuine surprise. ‘The King’s terms were a miracle of generosity. We had Fidenae at our mercy. Any other army would have sacked the place, slaughtered the warriors, and sold the women and children for slaves. I had never imagined that you could capture a place and then permit it to exist. If the King treats the conquered with such leniency other cities will yield when he attacks them, and the power of Rome must grow.’
‘I’m glad you think so,’ said Sabina, coming forward with a bowl of stew. ‘Dinner’s ready, and no one ever feels scruples about eating stolen mutton. Somehow sheep and cattle are fair game, though I agree that it feels wicked to steal a harvest. But it’s amusing to hear a noble Etruscan excusing conduct that shocks a mere Latin villager – and shocks a simple Sabine housewife into the bargain. We forget that for two years you were a bandit, my dear Perperna. You must get hold of some innocent Roman maiden and marry her. Then your wife will recall you to a proper sense of right and wrong.’
‘Yes, when will you marry?’ asked Marcus. ‘Shall I look out for you, among the men with growing daughters? You will need children to help you in clearing your ploughland.’
‘You are very kind, but I won’t bother you. My family on both sides are true Rasenna, and I don’t choose to marry until I can find a maiden of the same blood.’
‘Dear me, you won’t find one of those in Rome,’ said Sabina with a laugh. It was impossible to snub her, just as it was much too easy to snub the kindly Marcus. Perperna could never get the emphasis right when he tried to close an awkward subject of conversation.
‘You will have to look sharp to get a wife of any kind,’ she continued. ‘We haven’t nearly enough women to go round. Now don’t ask Marcus if you can borrow me for a night. That isn’t really an old Latin custom, whatever you Etruscans may say.’
‘I’m not the marrying sort. Two years of brigandage spoiled me for domestic life. Now tell me: when I have land of my own am I allowed to kill goats that stray on my fields?’
The best way to stop these dear people from intruding into his private life was to get them talking about the laws of their new city, a subject in which they took a deep interest and pride.
That evening a gale blew from the south, and in the morning there fell a rain of blood over Rome.
Even the vital work of harvest was abandoned. The look-outs on the border were doubled, in fear that enemies should take advantage of this terrible calamity; but otherwise all the citizens stayed under cover in their own huts to avoid the ghastly pollution. About midday the weather cleared. At the first gleam of the sun the King, accompanied by a great crowd, went to the templum on the Palatine to sacrifice. There was nothing odd about the liver of the dead bull, and after it had been exposed to public view the general excitement diminished. Romulus announced that he would seek divine guidance, alone, in his storehouse of sacred things. On such an unlucky day no work should be done, and the citizens would be wise to stay at home until evening. At sunset the assembly would meet, and the King would make public the advice he had received from father Mars.
Perperna was among the half-dozen celeres who loitered below the ladder at the entry to the storehouse. His comrades were uneasy, edging away from the shadow of the holy building; but he leaned casually against a post, whistling. Little odds and ends of lucky charms picked up by ignorant Latins could not harm a true Rasenna, a learned servant of the great gods. King Romulus must have seen him through the cracks of the building, for suddenly he put his head through the door and beckoned him within.
‘You don’t seem to be impressed by this portent, or even by the sacred things brought by my ancestors all the way from uncanny Samothrace,’ he said crossly. ‘Who are you? Oh, that’s different, you are the young Etruscan. You haven’t my luck, but you may well have more knowledge. I want a private chat with you.’
The
interior of the storehouse stank of badly cured hides, and there were fleas hopping among the rushes. Perperna remained unimpressed.
The King peered at him sharply. ‘Yes, it’s time we had a private talk. Your luck is not nearly so strong as mine. Even if you don’t grant me that, good manners ought to make you respectful to my family shrine. Besides, I have three hundred celeres to cut throats for me, and you haven’t. So when I ask your advice you had better give it frankly. Now then, can you tell me anything about this rain of blood?’
‘It isn’t really blood …’ Perperna began, but the King interrupted.
‘I know that, of course. I’m not a fool. If this morning Sky-father had bled all over us something pretty terrible would have happened by midday. The blood wouldn’t just stop, with nothing coming after. So when I was sacrificing I took care to get a spot of bull’s blood on my tunic, just beside this mark made by the heavenly rain. As you see, now both are dry the colour’s quite different. But if it isn’t blood, what is it; and what does it mean?’
‘It falls occasionally.’ Perperna spoke easily, as one equal to another. ‘In the south it’s rather more common. Our learned men have noticed that it comes always on the heels of a strong south wind. So we suppose that on the far shore of the southern sea there must be a red, dusty country. Sometimes the wind picks up this dust and carries it to fall on Italy. That’s the explanation that our wise men give, and it’s true as far as it goes. But I am a trained priest and haruspex; and I can tell you that this perfectly natural dust falls only when the gods are angry. Now what have you and your Romans been doing to anger the gods?’
The King scowled, clenching his fists and drawing himself erect. Then he smiled and shrugged his shoulders. ‘We are alone here, and I told you to speak freely. Anyway, if at present the gods are angry, I know how to wheedle father Mars into a good temper. Let’s try and think calmly. Of course everything we have done since the foundation of the city has been an outrage on ordinary morality. But there must be something special. I can’t think of any particular recent crime.’
‘Incest? Sacrilege? Parricide?’ asked Perperna calmly, and the King shook his head at each question. ‘Then it’s not the gods above who are angry, but the spirits of the underworld. Murder of kinsmen? Corpses left unburied? Neglect of the blood-feud? Murder in time of truce?’
‘That’s it,’ Romulus struck in, ‘or rather, the last two, both of them. I thought those troubles had been forgotten. It all began some years ago, with the murder of the Lavinian envoys. But only last year my colleague was murdered, and I have certainly neglected to avenge him.’
‘Then you will have to appease the neglected spirits, whose anger has brought this portent on Rome. Luckily that’s not so very difficult. You need not actually avenge the murdered King, or put to death all the murderers of the envoys. Just do something to show you have recognised your duty.’
‘You don’t have to teach me my own business, young man. I have been King here for the better part of twenty years, and I know how to comfort my subjects. I can easily atone for those two errors of judgement. But I shall have to invent some striking ceremonial to make plain to the people that the rain of blood has left no permanent pollution.’
‘There’s no better way of getting rid of boodstains than by washing, my lord,’ said Perperna, for the first time addressing Romulus by his title. ‘Let them wash themselves, and their clothes, again and again in clean water. If you want to make the ritual impressive you could first consecrate the water, and perhaps sprinkle it over the whole city.’
‘That’s a good idea. You Etruscans understand these things. Mind you, I believe in the gods, as I’m sure you do. I have my luck, which was put into me when I was born and which I have done nothing to deserve; that helps me in tight places. But even so the gods demand a certain bare minimum of honest dealing, and I am careful not to provoke them. I shall quite genuinely appease those angry ghosts. As for this blood, and the washing of it away, I shall compose some moving prayers, and mean every word as I say them. But the real object will be to calm my people, not to placate the gods. There’s nothing wrong in that, is there? Now I suppose this public washing is an Etruscan rite. Can you give me any hints on the most solemn way of doing it?’
On the next day there took place the first ritual lustration of Rome. The King sprinkled his sacred water on every gate and every street-corner, and a few drops were poured into the water-pot of each household, for the cleaning of polluted garments. When all the citizens had been cleansed, and knew themselves to be cleansed, there was a long and argumentative session of the assembly. In the end it was agreed that those Sabines who had been implicated in the murder of the Lavinian envoys should be deprived of their citizenship. They were given ample time to get away, and in fact many of them had gone back to their native hills soon after the murder of King Tatius; so nobody was executed or put in danger of death. But right had been done, and publicly. The spirits of the murdered envoys had no justification for further molestation of the living.
It looked as though the murder of King Tatius could be avenged only at the cost of a troublesome war. Luckily the Lavinians, themselves terrified at news of the awesome rain of blood, did justice of their own free will. They in turn sent their murderers into exile, and the whole matter could be decently forgotten.
All the same, news that the gods were displeased with King Romulus spread widely throughout the countryside. The luck of Rome had been weakened; there might be plunder to be picked up by the adventurous. While the Romans were still occupied in getting in the last of their meagre harvest, sentries gave warning of the approach of a hostile force.
The army which poured down on them, without a declaration of war, was soon recognised as the levy of Camerium, a minor town in the Etruscan League. The invaders had crossed the river by a ford upstream of Rome, and as the citizens formed their ranks they could see smoke rising from their stackyards in the open country. King Romulus had been caught unprepared, and the enemy hoped to pick up a few waggonloads of barley without fighting. But the habit of meeting in a daily assembly made the citizens swift to mobilise. By mid-afternoon the spearmen were marching up the left bank of the river.
In battle King Romulus kept a small bodyguard beside him, but the rest of the three hundred celeres were scattered through the whole levy, to inspire the main body of citizens and set an example of willing obedience to orders. Perperna found himself detailed as a front-rank spearman among the Sabine Tatians, who might well begin to act independently unless a few strangers were brought in to break up their sense of forming a separate community. He went a little unwillingly, though he did not dare to refuse. It seemed a dangerous business to march into battle among strangers, who might perhaps desert him on the field and would feel no obligation to save him in a tight space. His safety depended in particular on the steadiness of his right-hand neighbour, whose shield must guard his shieldless right side. He was pleased to see that the man appeared to be a decent veteran spearman; as soon as they were on the march Perperna began a conversation.
‘I have never fought in a set battle against civilised men,’ he said with a placatory smile, ‘though I have faced throngs of savages, and for two years I lived as a brigand. In my youth I had the usual military training of an Etruscan citizen, so I ought to be able to protect myself; but I would be glad if you will tell me when you see me doing anything wrong.’
‘That’s not the way most of the King’s celeres talk before battle,’ answered his neighbour with a frosty glance at the King’s device on Perperna’s shield. ‘I’m glad one of you can be civil to a veteran. If you like I shall keep an eye on you, but you won’t find anything difficult. Just keep in your place, beside me. Don’t try to get ahead, and I need not tell you that you mustn’t hang back. The great thing is to meet the enemy with our spearpoints in a level line. Just dodge the spear of the man opposite you, and don’t bust a gut trying to kill him. It’s quite enough if you push hard and get him moving backward
s. I shall look after your right, and remember that Pontius on your left depends on your shield as you depend on mine. Push steadily, and trust in the luck of Rome. If that is stronger than the luck of Camerium we shall break their ranks. If not, they will break ours.’
‘You don’t speak as though you were longing to kill these dastardly invaders, who have treacherously ravaged our crops,’ said Perperna with a grin of encouragement.
‘I want to get them off our land, but the less killing the better,’ said the other. ‘There’s no call to start a lot of blood-feuds, especially since our King Romulus doesn’t seem to know how an honourable man carries on the blood-feud. There! I’ve only said what every man of my kindred is thinking, and I don’t care if you report it. I’m a Senator, and I have influence with my own people. If the King tries to bully me I shall just go home to the Sabine hills and let Rome get on without me. My name, by the way, is Publius, of the Tatian clan. I came to Rome because the head of my house commanded it, and I still haven’t made up my mind whether he decided wisely. Why did you come here, and why are you a celer? I suppose because the men of your own city wouldn’t put up with you any longer.’
‘You don’t like celeres, I gather. I’m not sure that I like them very much myself. I serve the King because I want to know there will be a dinner waiting for me tomorrow as well as today; and I didn’t come to Rome because my city threw me out but because my city was destroyed.’
Publius answered with a noncommittal grunt, a discouraging response for a young man burning to tell the story of his life. All the same, Perperna went on to relate the terrible end that had come to his city, and all his adventures as a brigand during two dangerous years. Publius heard him out without interruption. Then he answered, in a grudging tone:
Founding Fathers Page 18
