The Fall of Veii- Part 1

by Francis Mulhern

  “Yes” he replied “a draft for the Quaestor for the Veienteine campaign. It seems that the soldiers are still upset regarding the issue of Bolae” Aquilinus said, raising a hand slightly as he knew Postumius’s part in the matter “but these orders require each man to call to arms or to be exiled from the city” he added with a brief smile as Postumius nodded his reply.

  “Each day I receive petitions from the plebeians demanding their spoils” he said, his face momentarily downcast before he looked up with a smirk.

  Before Aquilinus could reply a call came from a small knot of men in front of the small party and they came to a stop, the bodyguards suddenly becoming tense as they surrounded their masters, Postumius gripping Megellus and pulling him closer to his side.

  “Publius Postumius, where is my money” called a man with a greying eye patch on his face, his dark hair lank and greasy as if it had not been washed or combed for days. “I demand retribution for the blood I gave on the battlefield, for the brothers I lost in service to Rome” he called as several men appeared wielding thick clubs and short daggers.

  “Run and get the Quaestor” Aquilinus whispered to his slave, the man disappearing into the crowd within seconds.

  As Tolero spoke, he shifted the eye patch slightly and set his feet firmly as if he were about to run at Postumius. Aquilinus, with a confidence born of years of ordering men around in administration stepped forwards and placed his hands on his hips.

  “Who are you men to make this demand?” he said, his eyes scanning the brutes who blocked their path as the crowds parted to a discreet distance; enough to be out of harm’s way but close enough to watch the ensuing action with interest. “What right do you have to stop a Tribune of the people?” he added as Tolero stepped forwards, his eyes boring into Aquilinus.

  “I have the right of a soldier to his spoils from battle. I have the right of a man who has bled for his city and seen his brothers die for its glory to receive that which is owed to me” he growled as a fleck of spit dripped onto his lower lip.

  Aquilinus, his blood up, stood his ground as he looked at the man in front of him with disdain. “The law stated that the Tribune was within his rights and the Senate agreed” Aquilinus started to say before Tolero, his hands moving like lightning, punched him square on the nose, the straight arm punch taking the Patrician secretary off his feet as his face erupted in pain and he fell unconscious onto the floor. Two bodyguards jumped forwards, one grabbing Tolero by the arm and the other kicking out at him as the man, his years of military training making his actions instinctive, wheeled the grip of his attacker and placed one guard in front of the other, one of the men behind him glancing a blow with a wooden mallet across the leather skull cap of one of the guards. Both men went to the floor as Tolero yelled “You owe me Postumius” and turned back towards the Tribune, whose face drained of colour at the sudden turn of violence.

  One of the bodyguards grabbed Postumius and moved him behind the remaining guards as he stepped forwards and rained blows at Tolero, the two men grappling and cursing as they whirled in a small circle, the attackers moving around to loop Postumius’s party.

  “Father?” Megellus said, his strong voice bringing Postumius back to his senses and his wife screamed at the men to leave them alone.

  Postumius gripped the arm of one of his attackers as he wheeled his club above his head, the heavy toga around his arms restricting his movements as he did so. The attacker grinned at him before Postumius smashed his elbow into the side of the man’s head before stepping forward and pushing him to the ground as a bodyguard moved in front of him and pulled a short dagger from his calf-length sandals, the metal glinting before a red spray of blood and a scream from the assailant told him that he had plunged the metal into the man’s thigh.

  “You need to get home” Postumius called to his wife and son, almost pushing them backwards as the men in front of him closed ranks on Tolero and stepped forwards again, Tolero’s brute force knocking a bodyguard to the floor with a sickening thud of his leather thong-bound right hand, the gritted teeth and hate in his eyes turning to Postumius as soon as the guard fell to the floor.

  “Halt!” called a voice as a sudden gap appeared in the crowd and the broad striped toga of the Quaestor appeared with a small retinue of men, each armed with a sword. “Halt in the name of the Senate and people of Rome” he called as Tolero glanced to him and back to Postumius.

  “Come on” Tolero called as he moved towards Postumius, his eyes challenging anyone to stand in his way. Postumius placed his feet into the stance of a Greek wrestler and smiled confidently at Tolero as two bodyguards stepped in front of him. Although inside he was shaking with fear he smiled at Tolero, knowing that the Quaestor could action criminal proceedings against him for brawling in the forum and attacking a Tribune and seeing instantly that the arrival of the Quaestor meant that the fight was almost certainly over.

  “I know you Tolero” he said, pointing a finger at the advancing man “and you” he said looking to Tolero’s right “and others” he added as he marked each man with a stare. “You will be brought to justice for this, all of you” he added as Tolero swung a dagger at the face of one of the bodyguards, the man ducking its arc and swinging a punch at the body of Tolero, who simply moved aside as the movement missed.

  Tolero laughed loudly as he gripped the arm of the bodyguard, stepping low and across the man as a thick wooden club connected with the man’s skull, a sudden cracking sound splitting the air as his hair turned crimson and he fell with a thud to the flagstones. As Tolero raised his dagger and lunged forwards at Postumius he was grappled to the ground by two more men, each of them grunting at the force of Tolero as he struggled to gain purchase on the smooth flagstones of the forum.

  The Quaestor appeared and shook the dagger from Tolero’s hand as two more of the attackers were grappled to the floor by the newly arrived men, one taking a dagger in the arm and screaming curses at the attacker before smashing the hilt of his sword into the man’s temple and knocking him senseless before collapsing himself. Tolero shook himself free and whipped his blade in a circle, the blade catching the Quaestor across the forearm, his blood spraying into Postumius’s face.

  Tolero grunted as he was clubbed by a thick-set man, his bloodied face testament to the blows he had taken in defence of Postumius.

  “Tribune?” the Quaestor said through gritted teeth as he gripped his bleeding arm “Who are these men?” he asked with wild eyes.

  “They are dead men” Postumius replied with a smile as he looked to his son.

  ****

  “No Camillus” Ahala stated firmly, his eyebrows raised and his mouth turned down at the edge of his lips. “The” he looked again at the tablet, the smooth wax covered in scrawled words “Scorpions?” he asked with a frown “are simply too expensive for the state to develop. Should you wish to continue to utilise them for your own small force then we are happy to sanction that use.” As he finished he raised a hand as Marcus looked as if he was about to speak. “I don’t doubt that they are particularly useful and that they served a purpose in the attack at Ferentium, but I don’t see how they will be of general use to our forces.” At this he turned to the aged man on his right and gave him a quizzical look, the old man nodding his agreement.

  Marcus fumed at the lack of foresight from the council but bit his tongue. He knew it would come to nothing if he continued to ask for funds to develop more Scorpions and so he nodded his assent and placed his hand over the wax tablet he had brought to the meeting, closing the top cover and standing with a nod to the two Senators sat across the table from him. Thanking the Senators, he turned to leave before Ahala spoke again.

  “Camillus, will you be putting yourself forward for the vote for Tribune for the assault on Veii?” he asked, his companion sitting straighter as the words were spoken. “Rome could use someone with your undoubted skills and good fortune” he added as his face took on an impassive look.

  “I have decided to
run for Censor, Senator” he replied. “I also believe my brother Lucius has put himself forward for the role and so I will take a step to the rear for the moment” he said with a nod of his head.

  “Shame” replied Ahala before looking up and smiling. “I hear your good lady wife is with child” he half asked, half stated before adding “congratulations” as Marcus nodded back to his question.

  “Our thanks, Senator” replied Marcus as he nodded again to the two men and turned to leave the room. On closing the door Scipio, who had been waiting anxiously outside, rushed across.

  “Well?”

  “They said no”

  “What? Why?”

  “Money, I guess” shrugged Marcus “Lucius says the treasury is bare despite the treasures we returned to Rome and the spoils from Bolae. If they had only changed their minds and repopulated Bolae they could have sold the prime land and made enough money to fund the next seasons horse and some armour. It’s no wonder the plebeians...” he started before Scipio shut his words off with a loud shush.

  “The issue is closed then” he said loudly as a few heads turned towards the two men, some eyes squinting as the line of men waiting to see the Senators looked at them and listened to their discussions.

  Marcus chided himself for letting his voice mouth some of his thoughts in such a public arena. Without thinking he had nearly spoken support for the words of Calvus, something that he knew would create him a number of political enemies, something he could not afford if he were to run for Censor. Glancing around he smiled warmly to Scipio and clapped him on the shoulder before speaking in a semi-whisper which he knew everyone in the room would hear. “Ahala and Cicurinus did say that they would be delighted if I were to run for Censor though. They think that the public morals would be served well by my knowledge of the sacrifices and rituals as well as my skills with finances” he smiled as the two men headed for the doorway.

  “Excellent” said Scipio “and I am going to ask to run for junior Tribune in the siege against Veii” he added as Marcus half laughed at his theatrics. Heads turned at both statements and Marcus could see some of the older Patricians nodding heads and tapping their fellows on the shoulder with a glance towards the two younger men as they left the room.

  ****

  An hour later Lucius arrived at Marcus’s door, the slave allowing him entrance and taking his travelling cloak.

  “Lucius” exclaimed Marcus, his wide smile beaming at his brother, “it is a joy to see you. Livia” he called “Lucius is here.”

  Marcus’s wife appeared, her flowing robes draped to the floor as she greeted Lucius and waved for the slaves to bring drinks and sweetmeats for the guest. After a few pleasantries Livia had made her excuses and left the two men to discuss politics and war as they always did, Marcus beaming at her as she kissed him softly on the cheek before leaving.

  “A fine woman” Lucius said as she left “father did well for you there young Camillus” he laughed as Marcus’s grin split his face.

  “So, what news?” Marcus asked after a second or two of silence.

  “I have been offered the second in command for the attack on Veii as I expected” he added with a satisfied nod of his head as he picked up a wooden cup and poured some of the house wine from their father’s vineyard in Tusculum which had been left by a slave.

  “Excellent. And the Tribune, not Postumius?” he asked as Lucius grimaced for a second.

  “Flacus” replied Lucius with a frown.

  “No? How?” came the quick reply.

  “Probably bought it” Lucius said with a short exhalation of breath. “After the fracas with the Capenates a few years ago I thought he would never command again” he shook his head. “Nearly a thousand men dead and lucky to escape with any measure of honour” he continued as he tipped back the cup and drained the wine. “This is good” he said with a surprised expression.

  “I had it watered with fruit juice and lemon” replied Marcus “to take away the acid and make it milder” he smiled.

  Lucius nodded as he re-filled the cup and sipped it again admiringly. “You must write down the measures so I can do the same” he said. “Flacus is a fool and everyone knows it” he added as he looked to his brother. “With him in charge I will be running the army without the glory of command” he said glumly.

  Both men sat in silence for a moment before Marcus replied.

  “How is the levy coming along? Are you near strength?” Marcus asked.

  “From the latest report, we have nearly three thousand men, so over two thirds of strength. With Ambustus as master of the horse we will soon have more than enough Eques. You know, ever since that damned charge on the phalanx at the three crossroads the man has attracted every glory-hunting Patrician in the city and Latin Delta” laughed Lucius. “I wouldn’t mind if it had been his idea” he said with a shrewd look to his younger brother.

  “A moment of luck on my part” Marcus replied with a knowing smile.

  “Luck plays no part in it Camillus” Lucius said with a smile. “Luck is when good planning and timing come together” he added. “When you have the gods on your side” he added as he cocked his head and looked to his brother “then such things are called fortune, and you, my brother, have the gods smiling on you.”

  Marcus felt uncomfortable, as he always did when the prophecy and its words were discussed. “I still don’t see how the prophecy will be my destiny, brother” Marcus said honestly. “The Eagles are not yet leading Rome, they are a small force and have little control, never mind five times” he added. “And the barbarians?” he asked with a shrug of his shoulders.

  Lucius smiled at his brother as he sipped from the cup. “I am sure that in ten years brother, you will be telling me exactly how this prophecy has worked in our favour.” As he placed the cup on the table he turned back with a measure of urgency in his face which made Marcus look at him eagerly. “Have you heard about Tolero?” he asked as Marcus shook his head and frowned, his brows creasing.

  “It seems that Tolero and several others attacked Postumius in the forum and demanded payment from Bolae” he said quickly, wetting his lips with a smile at the wine cup. “Yes” he said as Marcus’s blank expression told him the news had not yet reached his door. “They attacked Postumius and his family in the forum, and from what I hear they tried to drag the clothes from his wife’s back and killed two of Postumius’s bodyguards before Structus, you know the Quaestor?” he asked before continuing without stopping “came to his aid with several guards and arrested Tolero and his men. To make it worse Tolero sliced Structus across the arm with a dagger, it will be his death” he finished with a shake of his head.

  Marcus sat with his mouth open at the news. “And Bassano? Was he there?” he asked.

  “No Bassano was not there but I hear he has petitioned the Senate and been refused. Tomorrow the leaders, including Tolero are to be publically crushed in the Curia. They deserve it!” he stated with finality as Marcus sat back in his chair and took a deep draft from his cup.

  “Bassano won’t like that” he stated. “Have the Plebeian tribunes vetoed the act?”

  “No, from what I hear the two men have been quiet on the subject but the old soldiers are bitter and are calling for a sessation for the Veienteine campaign.”

  “No” replied Marcus. “Why have I not heard of this? I was at the Senate meeting earlier today!” he said with a shake of his head. Lucius shrugged and placed the cup back on the table.

  “Tomorrow will be a difficult day” he said as he looked at his brother. “Postumius seems to be charmed. Anything he touches seems to turn to profit and anyone who opposes him seems to come to grief” he added with a frown as he looked to his brother. “It is no wonder the man believes that the prophecy of Antonicus was about him.”

  “Then maybe it is” laughed Marcus as he sat back in his chair.

  “Don’t say such things Marcus” Lucius said as he tapped the edge of the table three times and mumbled some words to aver
t the evil eye. Marcus smiled at how superstitious his brother had become, but said nothing.

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  Chapter 28

  Taking the final turn Bassano closed his back to the wall and took a deep breath, the odour of urine from the narrow alley hitting his nostrils as he screwed his face against the smell. As he waited he was sure that nobody had followed him, but he needed to be certain.

  Five minutes later he was on the move again, taking the dark alley towards the Quirinal Hill and skirting the drainage ditch which ran along the length of the lower slope. Within two minutes he had found the location he had been given and sat behind a wall across the road watching for movements within the house. A small shutter opened in the door, the orange light of a candle flicked across the square viewing portal, a pair of eyes became momentarily visible in the shadow before the light disappeared. Moving quickly Bassano, crossed the street and knocked four times on the door, his eyes never moving from the street around him as his breathing quickened in his chest.

  “Salve friend” came the disembodied voice as the viewing hole opened slightly and a fearful eye peeked out.

  “Tolero” said Bassano as he edged closer to the wooden door eager to get inside the house. The sound of a metal bolt rasping along its housing screeched into the night as the door jerked open and Bassano slipped inside, the heat of the house hitting his cold skin.

  “Welcome Centurion” said the man with the candle behind the door. “We thought you weren’t coming” he grinned, his smile showing that he was pleased Bassano had arrived. “In there” he pointed with the candle, the flame flickering as it moved and the strong smell of the cheap tallow pervading the small entrance hall.

  Bassano moved into the room and blinked as several candles lit the room, the light almost hurting his eyes after such a long time in the darkness of the streets.

  “Centurion” said a number of the men, many of them standing as he entered, some clapping him on the shoulder and grinning at his arrival, others more sullen but nevertheless pleased to see him.