Weight thought Aulus, his mind distracted by the word as he looked to the Senator.
“But it doesn’t give us any clue as to which head will win” Aulus replied with a slow shrug and a look, again, to his brother.
Javenoli turned to the older man on his right. “Cicurinus, what say you?” he asked.
The older senator took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he shook his head. “We have been unsuccessful in eight years of war with Veii” he said, shaking his head and looking to the floor. “Before long we will have a siege to rival Troy” he added. As he narrowed his eyes he seemed to be struggling to form his words before he spoke again.
“The two headed calf is a sign from the gods that we will win. It was in our lands and is a sign to us” he said firmly to some grunts of agreement from around him. “But it is also a concern. It also tells us that the gods are not happy” he glanced to the older Manlius brother, his thick Greek style beard curled elaborately and oiled to a point at which it was almost dripping. Cicurinus tried not to frown as he instinctively rubbed his clean-shaven, Roman, face and considered his next words carefully. “The gods are still confused about who has control in Rome” he added more loudly as Manlius huffed and shook his head in protestation of the words being spoken by the Senator. “It is correct Manlius” he said, turning his tired face to the older Manlius brother. “I know you are their champion and you fight their cause, but look at the signs and you will see the displeasure of the gods” he shook his head slowly as he glanced back to the nodding form of Javenoli. “Pestilence in the streets again” he said, raising a hand and counting by holding up a finger. “A wolf seen in the streets” he raised another. “The two-headed calf” another finger slowly moved upright. “A string of premature births amongst the patrician class” he added. “The winter was another divine message, the cold and snow deeper than any in living memory. All are signals from the gods” he said with a final finger and shake of his head.
“And the continued losses at Veii, don’t forget them” Javenoli interjected.
“Yes Senator, I agree. Veii continues to be a thorn in our side. It all adds up to one thing Manlius. The gods are not happy with us” he finished with a slow stare at Manlius, who simply tightened his lips and shook his head in reply.
“With all respect” nodded Manlius “that is all supposition and rubbish.” He edged forwards on his couch, “the plebeian tribunes did splendidly” he continued. “They re-filled the Republican purse, organised the building of new tenements” he raised a hand and smiled as he raised two fingers and then a third as he continued again. “They organised the festivals with such precision that the people proclaimed them the best in more than ten years” he smiled again. As he raised another finger to speak again Cicurinus spoke over him.
“They have rallied the people in the forum every day, complaining about taking away the liberties of the men who serve at Veii. They claim that the Patricians have sent them away so that we can hold back the reforms they wish to push through.” He huffed before continuing, raising a hand to Manlius, who shook his head at the older man. “They claim that the Patricians suffer less than they do because they can return home in the winter to their warm fires and warm beds. And” he added raising his hand again to the shifting form of Manlius. “They claim it is a form of slavery” he added with a final shake of his head.
“That is old news Senator” Manlius replied. “Appius Claudius resolved this issue with them a long time ago, as you know” he added with a little more venom in his tone than he had intended. “Apuleius doesn’t speak for all the plebeians any more. The man is bent on his own power and Calvus and Longus and Philo have no time for his plots and schemes” he added as he looked at the other men around them, all patricians and all grimacing at his words.
“There is no resolution Manlius” Javenoli replied. “Each day in the forum these plebeians stand and call for more reforms, shouting that the enforced slavery of their young men has taken away their liberties and starved their families. There is no resolution as you would like to think. The Senate is out-voted every day by the plebeians and the gods see this and frown on us Manlius. They are unhappy that their chosen representatives are not leading the City as they ordain. The two-headed calf and all the auguries testify to this.”
Manlius looked to his brother Aulus, who was nodding at the words spoken by Javenoli. He shook his head at how easily the younger man had been swayed by the invocation of the god’s displeasure.
“Then what do you propose, gentlemen?” Manlius asked as he sat forward on his couch and took another deep breath, almost sighing in resignation as he spoke.
A short silence fell as Javenoli and Cicurinus locked eyes. Manlius watched the two men who seemed to be speaking to each other with eye movements and gestures as the larger man raised his right shoulder and glanced towards Aulus.
“We have thought through some ideas” Cicurinus finally said as he shifted his legs on the couch and turned to look directly at Manlius. “I understand you wish to run for Censor, Aulus?” he asked as Manlius’s mind raced through the comment, a sudden rush of blood making his heart beat more quickly. Aulus glanced to Manlius before replying.
“Indeed Senator” he said, his eyes narrowing at the game that was about to start.
“Hmm” said Cicurinus as his eyebrows rose and he nodded, his mouth dropping at the corners as if appraising the younger Manlius brother. “It would be a good appointment. You have proven yourself since that issue with Postumius” he said, seeing the anger suddenly rise in Manlius’s face, though Aulus simply nodded his head and flinched his shoulders, clearly remembering the strikes of the whip across his back.
“The Senate believe that we need to send a clear message to the gods. The sibylline books have been read and they agree” he added with a firm nod to Javenoli, who nodded in reply. “Tomorrow we will announce that a lectisternium will begin and last for eight days” he said as he noticed Manlius sit back in his seat, his clever mind already working through the process and rationale for the festival to the gods in which every Roman would open his doors to his friends and enemies alike and even prisoners would be removed from their shackles.
“The festival will support the easing of tensions between the classes and will bring a peace to the city in which no litigation and no angry voices will be heard in the forum.” Cicurinus looked to Manlius. “We need your help in gaining the support of your plebeian friends, Manlius” he said with a determined look in his eyes. “In response to your assurances we will lend our considerable weight to the campaign for Aulus to be Censor” he smiled.
****
“What is it?” Mella asked, his eyes scanning the small cloud of dust appearing in front of the small scouting troop he led.
“I would say it is about a thousand men moving very quickly” came the reply from his left.
“Go, Viscus and come back with your answer. This could be bad” replied Mella as he sat back on his horse and glanced nervously at the five remaining men around him. Viscus kicked his mount into a gallop and rode into the long grass which was swaying left and right in the strong circling wind.
Mella had been sent east with his scouts early that morning before the sun had risen, his cold hands only just coming back to life after the early start. For over three hours they had seen nothing, but now a sudden dust cloud had appeared about a mile away, its size bringing a fear which Mella had not felt for some time.
“I want a circle at two hundred paces” he said to the anxious faces around him. “Eyes wide open soldiers, but we stay here until Viscus comes back with his report.” The location was not perfect, it would be easy for archers to crawl within striking distance and launch their arrows at his men, but he needed to remain here until his scout returned. Setting a circle would mean any attackers would need to spread out in order to attack, but it would also thin out his men. A risk worth taking he thought as he nodded to the men as they spread out into the grass. The dust cloud hung in t
he air and he considered his next move, taking a wax tablet and scrawling a few words on it so that he was prepared in case they needed to make a quick exit. Marcus and his force were moving on Faleria and by now, he looked to the sun, still low in the sky, they would be within sight of the walls. Had the Falerians seen the attack and sent troops to attack Marcus’s rear? As he thought through the issues his eye caught a movement high and to his right, a sudden panic coming to him as he caught his breath, an arrow? He flinched as he instinctively turned to the location. No, it was small bird darting along the top of the grass searching for food. A good sign, he told himself. Any archer in the grass would scare the birds away. He took a deep breath, feeling his quickened heart slowing in his chest as he glanced at the dust cloud once again.
Twenty minutes later the form of Viscus appeared riding low on the back of his horse, the animal beating a fast pace through the knee length grass. He raised his left hand to signal the ‘all clear’ but continued his face pace.
“Close in” Mella called as the horsemen around quickly responded to his order and gathered next to him.
Viscus reined in, his dirty face showing long wet streaks at the corner of his eyes from the hard ride into the wind. “Falerians” he said “as I thought, about a thousand in full marching column heading towards the forest there. I saw three scouts but they didn’t see me, but we need to move from here as soon as we can, they can only be five minutes behind me” he said pointing towards the thick trees away to their left. “My guess is that they are looking to get behind our forces” he added as he licked his dry lips and took a water pouch offered to him by the man on his right.
Mella nodded as he looked at the dust cloud and then again to the trees. “Well done Viscus” he said as he scrawled on the wax tablet. Turning to the men he handed the tablet to Viscus and then placed his arm out dissecting the remaining men in half. “You go with Viscus back to the army and take this straight to Camillus” he said motioning to the men on one side of his arm. “You three will remain with me and keep an eye on this force.”
With a firm nod Viscus saluted and turned to trot away. As the men set off into the distance Mella turned his remaining scouts towards the trees with a glance towards the grey-brown cloud thrown up by a thousand marching men.
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Chapter 4
“Message from the scouts” chirped the voice of Rufus’ Optio, a young man called Quintus Sulpicius, his hard weather-browned face belying his young years as he stood to attention in front of his senior officer. Marcus looked at the boy and smiled, he knew Sulpicius well from his days as Censor in Rome, the urchin was always in trouble for stealing fruit or chasing slave girls but had grown into a tall, athletic, youth who was just about shaving. The boy had been assigned to Rufus through his association with Manlius as he was cousins with the man whose brother Marcus had been forced to whip following the death of prisoners in Postumius’s marching camp some years before.
Nodding to the Optio Marcus took the wax tablet held out by the scout, his face showing that he was eager to tell his commanding officer what was held within. “Viscus, isn’t it?” Marcus asked as the man caught his eye for a moment and a beaming smile came to his face at the recognition before he snapped to attention and looked at a point over Marcus’s shoulder.
“Sir” came the reply.
“What does it say?” Marcus asked as he picked up a short dagger and sliced the ribbon to open the two pieces of wood.
“A thousand Falerians marching to the south towards the rear, sir. Spotted them myself” the man said as Marcus raised his eyes at the final comment but said nothing as he read through the scrawled writing of his former sword master. Mella had written more detail than the man, Viscus, had given and Marcus nodded at the words as he glanced back to Viscus with a smile.
“Well done Viscus” he said, looking over the man’s shoulder at the other men who were standing next to three sweating horses “and you men” he called to the nods of the dust covered scouts. “Viscus, I need you to return to Mella and take him a message” Marcus replied as he started to rub the wax to create space to write. After a moment he handed the tablet back to Viscus. “There is no time to tie a new ribbon” he said “this is an order for Mella to make himself visible to the scouts and to retrace our steps back here,” The scout looked up quickly with a frown, his face showing he didn’t understand why the men should make themselves visible.
“Don’t worry Viscus” Marcus said, reading the man’s expression. “There is a good reason why I want our enemy to know we are aware of their position.”
Viscus saluted and set off back to his horse as some of the officers wandered across to see what the new message was.
Marcus looked across at the camp, half way through being built as the soldiers detailed to set up the camp dug the trenches and unloaded the carts. He glanced back at the direction in which the thousand men may be marching at his rear and pictures raced through his mind as he visualised the movements they would make, how they might attack and how he would defend this position. In his mind he saw the gates of Faleria opening and thousands more men streaming out from his front. As the officers approached him Marcus had already thought through several possibilities and started to plan his defensive lines. He half-laughed at the sudden change. Until this point he had been concerned with attacking the city, and now it seemed he would need to consider defence instead.
“Problem, Tribune” Virginius said, his lofty expression instantly annoying Marcus as the man looked at him.
Marcus smiled. “Gather the senior officers please Virginius, we have some new considerations to make. Send a runner to get Potitus as well, I need his thoughts” he added as he turned and walked towards his half erected command tent.
****
Scipio stood and watched as the water lapped against the shore, the clear blue almost inviting him to slip off his sandals and step into the cooling lake. He searched the banks with his eyes and frowned as he pursed his lips. The lake, which the locals called the Alban Lake, was about seventy yards across, its cold depths no doubt filled with fish he thought as he stared out into the bright daylight which glistened off the water.
“And where was it yesterday” he asked the legionary who was standing to his left at full attention.
The legionary stepped into the water and pulled out a wooden stake, a thick line carved into the wood. Returning to Scipio’s side he held the stake out and pointed to an area about four inches below the current water line. “Here, sir” he said. “And the day before, here” he added as he pointed to another carved line which was three inches below the one he had just highlighted.
Scipio looked out at the lake and back to the stake. He turned to his left to see the rows of tents and huts which the men were living in, the smell and sounds of cooking coming from the Roman camp. Working through some calculations in his mind Scipio frowned and looked back at the stake, taking it from the legionary and turning it in his hands.
“Carve another line Marcus” he said as he passed it back. “We’ll check it again tonight” he said as he patted the man’s shoulder and headed back to the camp.
As he threaded his way through the tents and wooden huts built by the Romans as they camped close to the water which fed Veii his mathematical training suggested that in less than ten days the first of the tents would be under water. He wondered what had caused the water to rise and why. There were no reports of an earthquake and there had been no heavy rain reported for weeks, the spring turning quickly into hot days and cold nights as it had done for the past three years. A sudden gust of cold air made him shiver and he gripped the rue sprig he held on a string around his wrist and mumbled a quick prayer to Fortuna to avert any evil which had just passed through the camp. In his years at the walls of Veii Scipio had succumbed to all the fears that the men held. Fear of the evil eye picking you out for death. Fear that your thoughts would haunt you if they were bad and
fear that his throat would be cut in the dead of night by a Veienteine assassin. He shook his head and sighed as these fears ran through his mind. He wondered what portent the men would see in the waters of the lake rising? As he stepped up to the command tent the guards eyed him and stood to attention, the taller man, his beard thick but well trimmed nodding that he could enter the tent without being challenged.
Inside the heat was stifling as the Tribune, Priscus, looked at a series of new drawings of the siege works at Veii. A great earth ramp had been built over the last twelve months, the back-breaking work taking longer than planned due to the fierce winter. He wondered whether the men’s fears that this war was cursed might be true. It was true that whatever new tactic they employed seemed to fail. The earthworks were enormous and had proceeded at great speed, the men digging and building ferociously to create the ramp and fit it with stones to create a walkway upon which the army could march. But then the damned Capenates had attacked the siege works and slaughtered hundreds of men, the gates of the city opening and a force of Eques charging down the fleeing men before the enemy retreated back to the walls of Veii with shouts and jeers. He grunted and clenched his teeth. The winter had frozen everything, the snow as deep as a man’s thigh. How many men had died in their tents? He had lost count. At least the spring had seemed good, the warm weather followed by light rain but now many months of warm weather had lifted the men’s spirits, though only by a small measure. The mood was sombre and Priscus had decided that the earthworks and re-digging the trenches would keep the men busy – too busy to grumble anyway, he thought.
The appearance of Scipio brought a smile to his face as he looked up from the map.
“Ah, Scipio. Here have a seat and tell me how to defend the workers from more attacks from the gates of the City” he asked warmly, his brown eyes smiling in his thin face. Priscus liked the wise counsel of Scipio, his quick military mind and ability to think through the actions as if he were standing in the front line with the men making him a favourite of the Tribunes.
The Fall of Veii- Part 2 Page 3