The Fall of Veii- Part 2

by Francis Mulhern

  Marcus looked to Scipio and Potitus who were cheering enthusiastically with the men and was momentarily lost for words. As he raised his hands and the noise disappeared into a few calls and then silence he felt the hair on the back of his neck rise as he considered the enormity of what he had done, what they had done and how he had fulfilled the legacy of the words spoken to him by Antonicus all those years before. Stepping forwards he took a deep breath.

  “Men of Rome” he called. “Veii was once great. This city was once equal to Rome. But look at her now” he called as he swept his hand towards the walls, their grey blocks and whitewashed paint still covered in streaks of red where men had slid to their deaths. The walls remained, too difficult to break, but the gates were smashed and burned and all internal walls pulled down wherever the men could do so. In his mind Marcus heard the words never to be a city again as his eyes looked over the, once again, cheering and jeering men. “Our enemies have become our slaves” he held his head low as he heard a deep groan from many of the men, a hiss from others who were saying quick prayers that such fate never befall them. “It is now time for us to return to our beloved home and to enjoy the fruits of the harvest we have gained from Veii. It is time for you brave men who have given up your farms and families to return to your hearts” at this cheers rang out across the soldiers. “We, men of Rome should be proud that we have done the will of the gods, achieving the glory that we set out for them. I, Marcus Furius Camillus will honour my pledge to build a new Temple to the great goddess Juno in Rome. I will see her raised back to the glory she had in the days of our fathers as she watches over her new home” he said as more cheers rang out across the field. Marcus had heard stories that when the priests had come to take the old statue and return it to Rome one of the boys who were to carry the statue had jokingly asked the statue if she was happy to return to Rome, and the statue had, in fact, nodded. The movement was seen by several of the men who were to carry the statue from her sacred place in the temple and had gone some way to placating those who were still angry at the destruction of the city, the rumour raising even more men to Marcus’ cause to destroy the city once and for all despite the continued discussions to the contrary which were being led by Manlius.

  As silence fell Marcus lifted his face to all the men and held out his arms to them as his gaze wandered across the sea of soldiers. “You have earned the love of the gods and of the fathers of Rome” he said, his voice faltering. “Return to your homes and put away your swords until our enemies raise their spears again” he said as he waved the first section of men away, their Centurions saluting smartly before the noise of men marching off into the distance filled the air, cheers still ringing out and echoing from the still walls of the city of Veii.

  ****

  The alleyway was filled with grey and black shadows in the low light of the day’s weakening sun, the returning men of Rome had long headed towards the forum for the start of the formal celebrations. There was to be a triumph for the glorious hero Camillus the next morning and this was the final link in the chain of events that Apuleius had been working on for over a week. He stood silently as the cool chill of the end of the day started to descend upon the city, noises of cheering and singing coming from all around the lower hills as he waited in the dark, his heart beating rapidly.

  A noise to his rear startled him and he knelt and turned as a rat raced along the alley, stopping for a second as its twitching whiskers recognised his presence but ignoring him as it continued along towards the drain and disappeared.

  Apuleius felt a flush of anger. Where was the idiot and his whore of a wife? Since bedding the stupid woman she had started to blackmail him into ever more expensive gifts saying she would tell her husband of their affair if he didn’t continue to meet her and bring her more trinkets. Apuleius was angry at his own weakness but also resolved to his cause, Camillus must be brought to heel. He embodied the patricians and all they stood for, their over-bearing, god-given rights to rule Rome, their patronising and aloof conversations in their Senate and the continued belittlement of his people, the plebeians. He sneered at the thought of what his plans would do to the great Camillus. Even the name made him angry and he spat onto the wall in front of him as he heard another sound and turned back towards the road, the light just about illuminating the entrance through which he had entered half an hour ago.

  “Is he there?” came the soft whisper of a woman’s voice. Apuleius grinned at the sound, he knew it was her.

  “I can’t see” came the rough voice of her stupid husband, his thick arms reaching out to the walls as he stepped into the long alley, his back hunched as he slowly stepped forwards. Apuleius slipped the dagger from its scabbard slowly and deliberately as he moved forwards in a crouch.

  “Stop” he whispered hoarsely as the man’s face contorted and the woman let out a quick moan.

  “Wait” said the man, his eyes trying to look into the darkness ahead of him.

  “It’s me. Come in further, away from the wall. Both of you” he added quickly as the woman seemed to stop at his voice.

  After a moment the three figures were crouched half way along the alley in near total darkness, the low light from behind the newcomers allowing Apuleius a slightly better view of the two figures in front of him.

  “Do you have it?” he asked.

  “Where is our money?” said the woman, her voice grating on Apuleius as he considered simply launching at her with his dagger and ending her pointless life.

  Apuleius let the bag of bronze and silver jingle as he saw the woman’s hand reach out. “Show me the robe first” he whispered as the man fumbled and held out a bundle.

  “And this is the kings robe from Veii?” he questioned. “How can I trust you?” he asked both questions quickly.

  “There were many people who saw the king and knew of his robe. It has the golden silk and the snakes sewn into the hem. When you get it into the light you will not be disappointed” came the man’s reply.

  “And nobody knows you have it and nobody knows you are here now?” Apuleius asked quietly, his voice remaining low as the man’s head moved slowly back and forth and the words “no” came back from the darkness.

  “Good” said Apuleius as he started to shove the robe into the sack he had brought to hold the item and keep it clean and then he turned and placed it behind him quickly.

  “Our money” hissed the woman’s voice as Apuleius gripped the dagger more firmly and moved his left hand upwards before letting the bag drop heavily to the floor.

  “Fool, you’ve dropped it” he said angrily as the woman hissed and her husband cursed before bending lower and waving his hands along the dark, cold floor.

  Apuleius crept a yard forwards and checked the distance. He had one chance and one chance only and he stood slightly to bring the whole of his body weight onto the blade, stabbing it down and into the spine of the man as he leant forward scrabbling for the bag of coins. Two strikes, then three and the man’s legs had stopped kicking, the woman started to scream and grabbed at the blade. Apuleius sliced the blade back and caught her hand silencing the screams to a whimper, warm blood spraying onto his own hand as he thrust it down and felt it bite into her throat, her cry disappearing to be replaced by a deep sigh of air as she moaned her last gasp and slumped forwards onto the body of her husband. He stabbed into her back again to make sure she was dead, feeling the power he had over them coursing through his veins as he gnashed his teeth. He leant against the wall and stared into the alleyway, watching the entrance to see if anyone came to see what the scream was, but nobody appeared.

  Feeling for the woman he ripped the chain from her neck and rings from her fingers and placed them in the sack with the robe before shaking his head at their lifeless bodies and stepping back out towards the city, the music and singing loud in the night sky. Apuleius smiled to himself as he stalked off towards his own home, the instrument he needed to undermine the patrician fool Camillus now firmly held in his grip.
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  Chapter 24

  “You are as close to a god as any man has ever been, Camillus” fawned the priest as he bowed to Marcus and supplicated himself on his knees.

  Marcus shook his head and replied coldly “no man is a god, we are but mortal instruments of their divine will.”

  “But the gods love some more than others” the man said again, his sing-song voice grating on Marcus’ nerves. He stepped forwards and placed the purple cap on Marcus’ head, the thin band of gold around the lip of the cap marking it out as one that was used for Apollo. Marcus set his jaw and considered how he had reached this point. Upon returning to Rome he had been astounded by the gathering of the people, flocking the roads and bridges and cheering the soldiers for hours as they trudged past with their heavy loads of spoils from Veii. The women of Rome had cheered loudest at the return of their sons from ten years of war. After presenting the war trophies to the senate he had found himself carried around the forum, people arriving in their thousands to cheer and wave, others presenting their sons and daughters to him for him to touch his divine hand on their foreheads. He had baulked at the requests but the throng of people had grown and he was thrust forwards by his own soldiers to placate the crowds. His friends had disappeared into the mass of people as he was carried off around the City, given treasures by rich families and offered the best slaves by others. All of which he could do nothing but accept, vowing to return them as soon as he could. The crowds and soldiers had feasted and partied long into the night and as a few small fires had created panic in the streets it had taken a group of ex-soldiers to bring calm and order back to the people of Rome, their shields and voices enough to frighten most rowdy citizens into returning to their homes.

  Snatching a few hours sleep he had been called to the forum at dawn and given the details of the parade, his triumph through the streets with the statue of Juno at its head, prisoners chained in long lines and the greater treasures of Veii piled high on carts and wagons to show the people what enormous spoils they had won from their long-time enemy. As he felt the cap fitted to his head he took a moment to reflect. The purple cap was used on statues of the gods, especially those of Jupiter and Apollo to show that they were divine. He looked back at the priest.

  “I’m not wearing this” he said firmly as he scrunched the cap in his hand and held it out to the face of the priest.

  “But, sir, it is what the people want. They cheer you as divine, as the saviour of their sons, the greatest warrior of Rome, the man who has single-handedly beaten our enemies” the priest said with large round eyes, the three priest helpers behind him all nodding as Marcus shook his head.

  “I will not” he said again. “It isn’t right. No man should mock the gods. The army beat Veii, not one man”

  As he spoke three men entered the room, Fidenas, his old, lined, face grinning as he entered first followed by Atratinus and Mugillanus.

  “Ah Camillus” said Fidenas as he stepped slowly across. “The plebeian tribune is here with some words for you” he said as he considered the cap in Marcus’ hand curiously. Marcus was dressed in a long blue tunic with gold flecked edges. Over his shoulder was the red cloak of Dictator with a thick golden clasp at each shoulder. His shining breastplate of bronze was tight across his chest and his sword hung from his right hip. His hair and beard was neatly set and lightly oiled, almost shimmering in the light. Fidenas looked at Marcus and nodded his head slowly.

  “You are, indeed, like a statue of the gods Camillus, as the people say. I have never seen such a man” he said as his face broke into a smile “it is no wonder our enemies fall before you” he said as Atratinus narrowed his eyes.

  A knock at the door signalled the arrival of Apuleius, his smiling face entering with several escorts, all carrying gifts for the conquering hero. As the gifts were laid on the floor and the finer elements pointed out to Marcus he began to feel uncomfortable, as if the speeches he was hearing from Apuleius and the plebeians were too much, almost too lofty and too full of praise. He held his tongue as the man continued to talk of the success of the soldiers at Veii, the clever use of the tunnels and the fact that Juno herself had agreed to come to Rome with the Romans, and how the statue herself had nodded in plain sight of several of the soldiers. All of this, he said, pointed to Camillus’s divine nature.

  Marcus protested, but was held in check by the Senators. The plebeians had demanded a show of force from their heroes as a way of showing the people that Rome was divine, that the gods favoured their City and that the people of Rome were special to their gods. Marcus had argued against it, but every voice, even that of his friends Scipio and Potitus had argued that it would do Rome good to celebrate something after ten years of constant hardships because of the war with Veii and the other tribes. It had been Scipio who had argued that Marcus had, in fact, said that the people needed something to celebrate and that the message such celebrations would send to Rome’s enemies could not be underestimated. The most astonishing thing was how the plebeians Apuleius and Decius had agreed, rallying the cheers for the divine Camillus to parade in a Quadriga, the four white horses and chariot of Jupiter. This, Apuleius had said, would show the people that Rome was the greatest City on Earth and was beloved of the gods. After fruitless debates Marcus had reluctantly agreed but he still felt uncomfortable. As he looked at the gifts and shook his head he handed the cap back to the priest, who smartened it up and replaced it on his head.

  “Your chariot awaits” Apuleius said with a twinkle in his eyes as he moved aside.

  Mugillanus and Atratinus moved to the side as he swept past them, his Dictators robe flowing behind him. He didn’t notice how Apuleius stepped up behind him and followed him out of the room and into the corridor which led to the courtyard. As he entered the courtyard a wall of cheers came from people standing all around the edges, flowers rained down on him as one of the horses skittered and whinnied. The statue of Juno was being carried by four white-robed priests, the vestal virgins ahead of them, sombre and calm as they always were; the lights of candles held within wooden frames to show that the divine candles had been lit for the occasion.

  Ahead of them, and directly behind Narcius and his troop of immaculately dressed soldiers, was the heavily muscled white bull that was to be sacrificed at the end of the parade, its entrails and viscera to be offered to the gods in return for their love. He took in the scene momentarily before the priest edged him forwards towards the chariot. He suddenly felt over-awed by the enormity of the cheering crowds, the faces staring at him, the statues of the gods all paraded in lines in front and behind the chariot. His people wanted this he said to himself as he stepped up to the chariot and looked back at the three Senators as they nodded to him. Water and oil were sprinkled onto the floor around the chariot, spots of red showing the sacrificial blood that was within. He held the reins and looked up to see Narcius smiling at him awkwardly; so at least one of the people close to him was finding this as difficult as he was himself.

  The Quadriga was edged with gold, garlands of flowers were attached to the body and the spectacle was a powerful image of the glory of Rome. Marcus nodded to the Senators as Apuleius stepped up and draped another red robe over his Dictator’s robe. Marcus frowned momentarily as Apuleius whispered “the robe of the last Dictator, for luck” and stepped back down as the heralds held their trumpets to the sky and three long blasts set the wheels in motion, the chariot’s iron bound wheels screeching on the flagstones as they set off into the streets and the noise grew to a deafening crescendo.

  ****

  “That didn’t go too well” Scipio said with a frown as Marcus entered the room, his face red with anger. Marcus rounded on him, his jaw clenched, but he held his breath and turned back, taking out his anger on Scipio would do little more than alienate another friend.

  “The tenth was dedicated to the temples, the soldiers knew that. It was not a tenth of my trophies, but a
tenth of everyone’s trophies” he said wearily, the words of the argument he had presented over and over again at the meeting still ringing through his ears. “The goddess looked out over every soldier at Veii and helped us to a great victory. She demands her rights as I, as Dictator, agreed them. They know that” he said, his anger rising again. “Every man should give a tenth of his spoils back for the temples and the golden crown, they know it and so does Apuleius.”

  Scipio remained silent, not wanting to raise Marcus’ anger again as Apuleius had done at the meeting. “The truth of the matter is that you did proclaim the temple and you did proclaim it in the name of Rome, so the soldiers should return their tenth and give it to the temples” Scipio replied. “But that snake Apuleius is clever; damn he is clever” he added as he sat in the chair across the desk from Marcus and placed his elbows on his knees as he lowered his head and let out a long breath.