by Ken Farmer
Contents
Copyright
Forward
Book I
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Book II
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Book III
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chaptet 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Book IV
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Book V
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Book VI
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Addendum
Insurgent of Rome
A Tale of the Ancient Republic
By
Ken Farmer
Copyright © 2019 Ken Farmer
All Rights Reserved
Registered US Copyright Office
Cover image licensed from Shutterstock.com
All other images copyright Ken Farmer
Other books by Ken Farmer
Outlander of Rome
Founder of Rome
Scrivener of Rome
Artisan of Rome
Defender of Rome
Wanderer of Rome
Champion of Rome
Publishing History
05/05/2019
Forward
Romans had an odd way of marking time (at least, to moderns with atomic clocks and nanosecond apps on smartphones). Day and night were considered separately and each given twelve hours. Since the length of both change daily, each hour was longer or shorter than those on the preceding day and night. A sundial would handle such variable lengths in the day, just by the nature of its construction, but how the varying hours were determined at night is beyond me. Waterclocks were common among the wealthy in the time of this book, but was there a valve with calibrated markings, or such, that was changed daily to account for the changes in length? I suspect that the answer is less technical. Humanity in those pre-electricity days was regulated by the daylight hours, and most activity spanned from sunrise to sunset. As the Romans failed to invent the 8 to 5 workday, a precise division of time was probably of lesser importance than seeing the sun rise and set.
Note that the Cleopatra (Kleopátra) in this story (a real personage of history) is not the one made famous by Hollywood spectaculars. There were many queens and princesses - and ordinary women, no doubt - throughout history, that were given that fairly common name. It is a Greek construct - kléos, "glory" and patḗr, "father", translating to "The Glory of my/her Father."
* * * * * *
Some Ancient Roman words
Stadium, Stadia (plural) - Measure of distance. 1 mile = 10 stadia. 1 kilometer = 6 stadia. To modern readers the term can be deceptive, as a hundred stadia tends to make one think of a vast distance, but is only about ten miles, or sixteen kilometers - an easy walk for a man in a few hours - or at least it was, back in those pre-fast food days. Again, a boat that is making thirty stadia an hour is not pounding through the waves, but only moving at about 3 mph/5 kmh - a normal walking pace for person.
Archigubernus - navigator.
Aedilis - Chief of Police (the Vigilis).
Caupo - tavern keeper, innkeeper.
Crux, Crucis - literally cross. Used for the Roman punishment of crucifixion, although the usual device was not as the Christian symbol, but in the form of a 'T.'
Dexter - to the right, on the right hand. Sinister - to the left, on the left hand.
Femina (Roman) Korí (Greek) - young unmarried woman. Puella (Roman) Korítsa (Greek) - young girl.
Gladius - the short sword that Legionaries, beginning in the late Republic, used as their prime weapon.
Hispania - the ancient name for the modern land of Spain.Knucklebones - an ancient dice-like game of chance. Think of 'Craps'.
Mistress. Wife of a man not the Dominus of the house. i.e. of a second or third son. Not to describe a kept woman, as in the modern sense.
Numerarius, Ratiocinator, Calculator. Accountant, CPA, Scribe of accounts.
Puerulus (Roman) Agóri (Greek) - boy
via - A road or through street. Via - A major thoroughfare, boulevard, or highway. Think Interstate or Autobahn, although only two wagon lanes wide on the average.
Stater. Heavy Greek silver coin.
Vigilis - Police, City watchmen.
* * * * * *
Military words.
Tyro - beginner, recruit.
Decanus, Decanuae(pl) - roughly a Corporal in charge of a Contubernium - a unit of seven men.
Decurio - Cavalry officer - roughly of the rank of Corporal.
Centurion - Sergeant. The backbone of the Legions. This rank had many different grades.
Locumtenens - Lieutenant.
Dux - General of the Legion(s). Generalis - a General of lesser command rank.
Consul - Commander of all the Legions.
Century - A unit of about sixty men. The standard unit of a Legion. A modern unit of this size would be large platoon.
Cacula - Batman, Orderly. An assistant for an officer.
Pilum, pila(pl) - the Roman infantry iron-shanked throwing spear. Usually two per man.
Book I
Chapter 1
"Does not our patron realize that Cosconius will not give escort to our ship with triumphant horns and words of honey?" The First Mate of the Petrel was standing with the crew, looking over the short span of water into the city of Salona, watching the citizenry move as if a hill of ants that had been trod upon.
"Aye, Kaeso. Usually, such fat merchants are first in the rabble to take flight, trampling any who are slow to move aside."
It was a crew of youngsters, none seeing more years than five and thirty, except for the Archigubernus, Patroclus of Thebes - a city of Greece, landbound and unknown to any on the ship. A man more unlikely to serve as navigator on a vessel would be difficult to find. His skill at reefing would be likely to find his leg entangled and hoisted with the sail and any attempt at the use of the rudder pole without guidance would no doubt find himself and his mates on the rocks of the nearest shore. But... His knowledge, and stash of scrolls, about the lands of the Great Sea from the eastern shores of Armenia to beyond the Pillars of Hercules at the far western opening, was unmatched by any yet known to the crew. His age of six and forty years put him well beyond the age of unmeasured activity, but he was not yet a doddering oldster. Now, he replied to the japes, "Neither the walls nor the gates are down as yet. The Legions of Cosconius may be yammering for entrance, but walls and wood seldom listen to the demands of
men."
All looked forward at their Master, standing in the peak of the deck, holding on to the forward stay in the gentle swells and looking into the city, just now becoming visible in the dawning morning. Finally, the Captain turned and said, "Belt on your metal, Ngozi. We will go to find our passenger and ask if he intends to take passage or invite the Romans for wine and cakes." To the First Mate, he said, "Kaeso. Do not allow any to depart, even to yon taburna just off the dock. When we stand out, it may be with wood flying past our ears and with little measure of time to find a man ensconced with some wench."
"Aye, Capitaneus."
"And have the poles ready for use. The wind is fair for our departure, but if it changes, we will need to push out beyond arrow range." To another, he said, "Flavius. Man the flatboat."
The ship was anchored about ten strides from the wooden docks, that they might not be rushed by fleeing citizens of the doomed city. Even now, men with purses held high, were in search of any berth that might allow escape from Salona, calling over the waters their offers of metal.
Rather than attempting to climb onto the wood of the wharf, the Capitaneus pointed his man, Flavius, to pole them to the sand where the crowd was less dense, although it would not be once the horde saw their grounding. A double stride from the shoreline, he called a halt to the poling, and dropped into the waist-high water, followed by his man, Ngozi. They both turned and heaved the flatboat back into the deep, assisting the poleman in his short journey back to the ship to await their return.
Now both, and with hand on hilt, waded from the water and into the clamoring crowd, ignoring the pleas and entreaties. "A double handful of gold Darics, Kapetánios. It is yours..." "Nay, good Nauarchus. I have twenty mina of good Athenian silver. It is yours..."
Julius Otho Clavius was no youngster, having seen about eight and twenty seasons since his birth in Capua, now a solid adjunct in the Roman republic. He was the second son of the family - or at least, of those that had lived to an age to receive names - and his being was as different from his brother as day and dark. That older sibling, Aulius Menwi Clavius, was a man of numbers - gaining great satisfaction in the myriad of scrolls and tablets that flowed into his huge officium each day. The House of Clavius, despite the tragedies and strange chronicle of events of a half-century ago, was one of the wealthiest in Capua. Certainly it was the most dynamic, with the two brothers acting in close concert with each other for their enterprise.
Whereas Aulius would seldom even board a flatboat to visit one of the numerous vessels of the family, to Julius, the entirety of the Great Sea was barely sufficient to give satisfaction to his need to both see and find new lands. In fact, he was the Arbitrator of the family, taking his fast ship to here and there for resolution of this trade pact and that contract dispute. And, it must be said, sometimes to turn aside from the course to examine another unknown domain that might be sighted off the bow.
He had little desire for wealth - a common trait of those who had grown up in plenty, and were as unaware of the need of riches as a fish is of water. Thusly, now the pleadings and shouted offers, along with the clinking purses of the crowd on the shoreline, were of no interest to the noble Captain. But, often with the accumulation of gold came the discovery of adventure. And it must be said, his crew had little contempt for any coin that might be found along the way.
Both men pushed through the mob, with any needed forcefulness, despite the attempt of some to block the way until their offers had been met. The Captain was not a small man, goodly of frame and his belly rippling with ridges of sinew from a life of activity - and more. But his companion was as a walking mountain of meat - fully a head taller than his leader and of far more height the average man in the crowds. Black, he was, as dark as the moonless night on the distant sea - a man from the far reaches of the south, beyond even the domain of Egypt. His tale of journey from a straw-hut village, across a man-killing desert and into a land with little use for migrants from afar, but much desire for slaves, was taken with nods from the crew, and no little disbelief - although no man ever expressed such doubts of the story in the hearing of Ngozi. His known expertise with both sword and spear were too well known to give jape of his tales.
Still, all respected the black man. His speaking of both Latini and Greek was fractured, but few would wish for another to guard their back in a skirmish. The fish, in their meals, had often been grateful to the spirits of men who had given thought that he was just another clumsy savage from some barbarian domain.
At an intersection of what would be called a Forum in Rome, they turned down a narrow alley, rather than keeping feet on the main via. Seeing his man give a look of puzzlement over their turning aside from the obvious path, the Captain said, "Aye. But Barsa can wait. I wish to see over the walls, again, at the activity of the arriving guests."
It was only a short walk, with the alley almost deserted, when they came to a substantial building. Once the abode of some prosperous merchant, it was now occupied only by the servants and slaves of that departed master. As such, it was no different than many other houses in the city, abandoned when the armies of Rome had begun to gather outside the walls. At the entrance, the Captain hammered on the entry ring, waiting until the door was opened by the Steward - now without both master and position, but in possession of the domain of house. The man nodded, recognizing the shipmaster - this was not the first time that the Captain had made call to the house.
A coin was tossed to the Steward and the two men entered to climb the stairs to the upper reaches of the building. Unlike most in the community, this one was tall - enough so that the platform on the top of the edifice was considerably higher than the walls of the city, those only just across the narrow alley and the single row of low dwellings abutting the ramparts.
From here, the two men had a full view of the plains to the east - once farmlands, but now the encampment of two Legions of the Roman army. As compared to the forces in the city, holding the attackers at bay, the comparison was as a minnow to a leviathan. Only the walls gave equality to the opposing forces. Still, Rome had given much proof over the centuries that their soldiers were an unstoppable force - not invincible, and even routable at times, but always an effect that would return to the fray, no matter the cost, whether in men or gold. Once a land, a city or even an entire domain was given as mark to the Legions, their doom of was sealed, at least as continuation as an independent entity.
Thus fated was the city of Salons, the last holdout of the Dalmatae federation.
The Sage, as the crew gave the humorous name to Patroclus, and not without some accuracy, attempted to give explanation of the land and the strife, but to all on board this was the land of the Greeks, long conquered by Rome and under domination of governors of that land for a hundred years or more. To the men, the nomenclaturae of Illyria, Sparta, Epirus, Thrace and such, were just forgettable names for parts of that conquered land. While a man from the domain of Thessaly would consider himself as an entirely different citizen from one of Macedonia, to the crew of the Petrel, all were as birds of the same feather.
"...this is not the first time that the Illyrians have contested the rule of outlanders. They gave measure of their dislike of Rome in... I forget the year, but it was in the time of the Consul Strabo, mayhap an entire century past..."
"...Illyrians? Who are they? This land is of the Delmatae..." Patroclus gave attempt to explain the myriad of names of the various portions of the land, but gave up as the confusion of his pupils mounted.
"Nay... Forget my words. Consider them to be one and the same. But, the people of this land, Illyria - Greece if you will - have not excepted the rule of Rome with magnanimity. By my count, the people of this coast - the Delmatae, as they call themselves - have given revolt a handful of times since the conquering. I doubt this upheaval will be the last."
To the men of the ship, most of the explanation had little settlement in their thoughts, other than the land of Greece gave up men to revolt on occasion. A
s such, they had little care, although today, all hoped they would be removed from the city before the inevitable fall and slaughter. Even though the Capitaneus was a citizen of Rome - and a highly placed man, they knew - a soldier in rampage had little discrimination as to the thrust of his blade.
Now, the two men gazed over the vast encampment with the knowledge that the time left to the city was short. Musing to almost himself, the Captain said, "It is my wonder that the Consul Cosconius has neither brought nor is making siege equipment. With only a covered ram, this city would have been reduced to dust even before our arrival."
Ngozi just grunted in reply, having no knowledge of either siege or equipment of such. But, he pointed and said, "Yon mound of scalae are thrice that of our last vision."
The piles of ladders, apparently constructed in the last few days, was impressive. Even now men were carrying from the stacks to units up and down the long ranks, just finishing their break of the morning fast. "Aye. This day will be the last. By my count, there are more ladders than the number of defenders on the walls. Cosconius is apparently not intending to repeat his mistake of attempting to fright the city into surrender." Indeed, the detritus along the walls outside the city gave proof that the soldiers in Salona might be doomed, but were not inclined to meekly surrender to their besiegers. Still among the piles of broken ladders, spears, armor and helms, were not a few bodies of Legionaries - as yet uncollected by the mortua units. "I have seen enough. They will begin the attack by the third hour. Our fat patron, Barsus, will leave now or we will take application among the docks and stand out before the midday sun."
