The King of Rome

by Francis Mulhern

  ******

  Brevo saluted smartly as he passed the seated Camillus, his eyes staring out across the scenery over the heads of the men. Camillus smiled and nodded a greeting as he saluted.

  “The man’s a genius” Crastinus said as he too saluted to the seated figure of their general.

  “He is” replied Brevo. “The gods love him” he added as both men tapped their forearms quickly. He waited a moment before speaking again. “So, what do you make of this talk of the gods being at war?”

  “Rubbish” said Crastinus. “We make our own luck” he added, tapping his forearm three times covertly. “You know how it is Brevo. You follow one god because he or she seems to listen when you make a devotion. Then you lose badly and so you change to a different god that your mate says is smiling on him. Then you lose out again, so you change allegiance once more.” He shrugged. “I don’t know” he added after a moment.

  “But did you hear that Camillus and the priests had seen signs that the gods are at war and that we are going to suffer? I need to know which side to be on. My family need me. I’ve got debts coming out of every orifice” he shook his head bitterly. “I need to get back to Rome” he added.

  “This isn’t like you soldier” Crastinus said lightly. “What you need is a good battle to get you back into your old ways. Fill your pockets with gold from the bastard farmers who dare to stand against us. A pocket full of gold will change your views, my friend” he added, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’re a career man like me. Take a deep breath, look to your men and keep them fighting fit. A unit of eighty soldiers in fighting condition will see you through this Brevo, not allegiance to any number of gods.” He grinned again as he tapped Brevo’s belt. “What’s that” he asked jovially as Brevo swiped at his pointing hand. “Barley for Jupiter” he laughed, “and that stupid old bloody cloth from that Gaul with the big axe” he said as Brevo scowled.

  “That man was the devil himself. This cloth keeps the bastard at arm’s length” he said angrily.

  Crastinus continued. “That arm guard was from Veii” he said as Brevo looked at his right arm. “From the guard you fought in single combat. Now that was some fight, Brevo. The boys still talk of it.” Brevo smiled as he marched along. “Another lucky charm?”

  “Gets me a few drinks” Brevo grumbled in reply. Crastinus half laughed.

  “That, my friend, and these” he said as he nudged at the phalera on Brevo’s belt “are what will get you through this war.” He looked behind to see the men listening in as they marched. “I don’t doubt for a moment that the gods will favour their chosen men, but to you and me” he shrugged “they don’t give us a second look.” He coughed and swiped at a fly that buzzed his ear. “I will stick to the sacred triumvirate and to Fortuna as Camillus does. They have served him and me well and I do not see that changing any time soon. You’ve been lucky too my friend” he said with a nod to the military trophies adorning the man marching beside him.

  Brevo grumbled again.

  “The men need you, Brevo” he said quietly. “When they can’t sleep at night and wet their tunics in the front line when they see the big bastard farmers running at them, they need you to be strong. Let’s not talk of this again, you can see what it’s doing to the men” he added as he slapped Brevo on the shoulder and stepped to the side to allow the men to march past. Glancing back along the line he bit his lip. All the talk was of war between the gods and how it was going to end in disaster for Rome. Anger began to well up in his throat as he noticed a soldier dragging his feet. His vine stick came up as he shouted at the man, his face turning to shock at being spotted as he straightened up and shouted an apology before being struck by Crastinus’ cane. Anger turned to frustration as Crastinus berated the man, his fellow soldiers parting from him to avoid the swinging stick. Stepping back he took a slow breath. He needed to talk to Narcius, he’d know what to do about this malaise that had infected the men. All he knew was that it couldn’t go on. If the centurions were infected with it, it would soon spread through the men.

  ***********

  The heat of the day was almost unbearable now, people shuffling under trees and finding any form of shade which gave them respite from the beating sun. Istros had covered his head in a large farmers hat, floppy enough to cover his neck and his eyes, as he sat on a wall on the old Etruscan Street which ran along the outer edge of the city. People walked past in leisurely conversation, some carrying baskets and others arm in arm as if they were lovers. Istros smiled at the relaxed nature of living in the busiest city he had ever encountered. People milled around, keeping busy doing nothing much. The army had left a day earlier, another army sat outside the gates of the city in large tents filled with the old men who had reached forty years or more but were fit enough to defend the city. A small army of hangers-on and servants bustled past every few minutes to feed the soldiers, clothe them, shave them, and generally meet their every need. Occasionally in the deep of the night a troop of prostitutes would sneak along with a handful of bodyguards to enter the camp and no doubt earn their masters a small fortune. Istros had been up most of the night and seen all of these comings and goings. It was time for him to sleep, he thought, as he yawned and leant back against the wall. But not here. He needed to get back to his bed, but Auguronos was late and he needed the information that the younger lad was to bring to him. Auguronos was always late, always unsure of his information and always light with his detail. Istros had considered just leaving the boy to get on with his life, but decided that he was in too good a position with the camp soldiers, as well as other links in the city, to ignore. He may yet come in very useful. The lad had a gambling and whoring problem, but then didn’t they all at his age? He felt the small pouch of coins at his belt which he was to give to Auguronos when he arrived and looked around, again, at the local scene as he tightened his lips in frustration, where was the lad?

  A cart rumbled past, the driver watching the road from under a deep brimmed hat. Three slaves carrying large amphorae struggled along the road under the weight of their burden and several children ran along shouting and screaming in front of their tired looking parents. Everything interested Istros. The shape of a slaves’ hips, the bald patch on top of an old man’s head which was surrounded by hair as white as the clouds in the sky on a summer day and the blissful ignorance of the children as one was nearly crushed by a cart as a thick brown ox trudged forlornly along the street. He smiled at the scene. The houses nearby bore signs of repair, new window frames and shutters in dirty walls, new roof tiles amidst mud-encrusted older tiles, the bird droppings along the walls which showed where the fowl nested overnight. He drank in everything, remembering similar details from other locations across the city as he did so. A shuffling noise caught his ear and he saw Auguronos stumble into a basket left by a doorway, the lads feet catching it as he looked up into the sun and wiped his sweating brow. Istros looked him up and down before he turned and moved into the alleyway as soon as the boy had seen him.

  “You’re late.”

  “Sorry. Got stuck with an Optio who wanted some fish stock for supper” he mumbled, his neck coloured red from the sun.

  “You need a hat” scolded Istros before he realised what he’d said and changed his tone to a more business-like approach. “Do you have the rota and the password?”

  Auguronos looked over his shoulder, back towards the road before handing over a small slate with the details etched in clear Greek.

  “Good” nodded Istros as he unhitched the bag of coins. Auguronos grabbed it and hid it swiftly, looking over his shoulder again. “Were you followed?” he asked guardedly, his hand reaching to his dagger.

  “No. No” replied the boy, his eyes wide. “Just cautious, as you’ve said I should be” he gasped, still out of breath as he had clearly been running.

  Istros shook his head but kept his eyes on the road, a nagging feeling starting to itch in the back of his mind. “Stay here” he ordered, Auguronos turning quickly
, his mouth dropping open.

  “What is it?” he asked as he crouched and looked wildly around him.

  Istros had gone before he said another word, the boy dumbstruck by the assassin’s sudden disappearance. Returning to the wall was easy, but the crowd had grown as the weather continued to beat down on the city. Moving into the crowd Istros looked for anyone with the red mud on their legs that Auguronos had spattered on his shins, guessing that this had come from the river of blood that swept from the abattoir to the Tiber from where Auguronos must have travelled. It took a while to spot two men lounging by a door way who had red spots on their legs, the faintest of blood spots but good enough for Istros to know that Auguronos was being watched. He walked past on the other side of the street, unnoticed by the two men, and carried on to the next corner where he turned and removed his hat. From the angle of the men he surmised that they could not see into the alleyway, although this did not confirm that they hadn’t crept up and seen to whom Auguronos was speaking. To his surprise, but also his pleasure, Auguronos appeared at the end of the alley and looked around nervously, his eyes squinting left and right, before he took off at a slow jog towards the city. The two men instantly moved after him, with Istros, smiling, looking around to see if the followers were being trailed. Sure enough a young boy appeared from across the street, the blood spots more prevalent on his legs as he must have been running to keep up with the two men he now trailed. Istros shook his head at the sight, men followed by boys. Rome continued to surprise him. He ambled along the road, feeling the slate in his pocket and deciding to follow the boy. Whoever was tracking Auguronos with the two men was an amateur, the boy would lead him to the true player in this game. As he set off to track the boy, Istros considered Auguronos. The young man was likeable, in his own ways, but he was also an amateur. He wondered if it may be advantageous to have a long chat with the boy and see if he could start to teach him some of his own ways. He certainly had good connections, though his skills in the art of subterfuge were poor. A project? He smiled as he set off, a new purpose running through his mind.

  Chapter

  The night brought sparks, swiftly followed by yellow light from within as house candles were lit and people sat down to evening meals. The smell of meat cooking and various sauces boiling over fires brought the rats and dogs out into the streets. Istros was used to the rather different night-time array of animals. He’d seen everything from foxes to weasels and even a scrawny year-old wolf cub prowling the streets in the darkness, each using their hearing to scamper away if danger appeared in the form of drunken Romans. Two dogs fought over a handful of bones which were thrown over a wall by a lazy slave. The fight lasted no more than twenty seconds as both animals grabbed mouthfuls of leftovers and then wandered off as best of friends when the food had been devoured.

  The boy had followed the men as they watched Auguronos enter his family home, and then tracked them to a heavily guarded house on the Esquiline Hill. Istros had been careful not to be seen and had tracked them all, finally following the boy back to one of the houses owned by Cincinnatus. After a short while the boy had come out of the house and Istros had followed him here to a run-down section of the older part of the city below the Palatine and past the Forum Boarium. Here the marshes stretched away towards the river and the houses were mostly built of wood. Having watched the boy enter his house he decided to wait and see if anything else happened before he finally made it back to his own bed. He found a good space on an old shack and closed his eyes, feeling the wave of tiredness that almost two days of being awake brought. His eyes saw red spots behind his eyelids despite the darkness and his mouth suddenly felt as dry as the desert he had crossed as a boy to reach the sea from which he had joined a local sailing crew. From there his jobs had been many and varied, but his new role as assassin was the one he liked the best. Sleep came quickly and he awoke with a start as more dogs barked close by. Wiping his mouth and then his eyes he sat up on the shack and looked out across the scene, noticing several men, at whom the dogs were barking, approaching the houses near where the boy lived. He could just make out their words.

  “Capitolinus will pay us well for tonight” one laughed.

  “He better had” came a reply from the group. “I’ve got a pretty red head to pay for and she isn’t cheap” he laughed in response as other men joined in with the merriment.

  “Shut up you fools. No names. Pricks” he added in angrily.

  Shouting from inside one of the houses caused the men to laugh even louder, one cursing back and informing the occupier that if he didn’t shut up they’d all come in and make sure he slept forever. Istros moved down from the shack roof and crept along towards the houses, staying in the darkest shadows as he moved. The stench of urine was strong along the street and so he kept to that area, knowing that anyone in their right mind would avoid it. He stopped as the last two men to part were chatting about whatever work they had done for Capitolinus.

  “I still don’t understand” said the smaller man. “Why take all the equipment from the farm? Makes no sense. Good land there” he added, sounding confused.

  “I don’t know do I” said the other man sounding as confused as the first man. “Got the boundary posts to do tomorrow so you better get some sleep.”

  “I don’t get it” came the reply. “If he loses half the farm, who gets it?” he shrugged.

  “Probably one of his family?”

  “So why do it at night? I don’t understand”

  “You don’t have to Bax, just take the money and forget it. Go on get to your bed man, see you tomorrow night.”

  The two men parted ways and Istros waited as he contemplated what he had heard. A puzzle for Javenoli for sure. He turned to see a blue-green tinge to the sky start to burn a bright white as a cock crowed away to his right. Taking a moment before moving he looked back over towards the boy’s house. Things in Rome never stopped changing, he thought to himself. What did Cincinnatus know about Auguronos’ dealings with Javenoli, and what was Capitolinus doing on one of his farms in the dead of night? He shook his head as he crept away towards the river to wash his face before heading to Javenoli’s palace.

  ************

  The dawn light brought the usual noise of camp life. Sentries changing, latrines been used, fires starting and the inevitable bellow of animals being herded into pens for slaughter for the men’s breakfasts. Marcus was, as usual, up early and stood at the edge of the camp looking towards the sunrise. The perimeter was surrounded by a shallow ditch with the usual array of sharp stakes that each man had to provide for the camp. Sentries stood blowing on their hands and stamping their feet, eagerly looking over their shoulders as they began to smell the meat cooking on fires around the camp. Marcus smiled. Small white clouds of smoke drifted into the air all around him, men moving to and fro as they awoke and went about their tasks. He watched as several men unfolded small statuettes from their packs and poured drops of wine or oil onto them as they prayed to their family gods. Others stood watching and mumbling their own private prayers. Looking up to the skies Marcus tightened his lips into a frown. Were the gods truly at war with each other? The tranquil scenes around him suggested not, but the scenes at the palace? It was confusing to say the least. It would soon be time for the night scouts and sentries to report so he ducked back into his tent and sat at the small table. He contemplated a local map, drawn on calf skin, for five minutes before two men entered the tent and saluted.

  “Sir” said Crastinus, his uniform neat and clean and his sandals spotless despite the dust around the camp. The other officer saluted and stood a half a step behind the centurion, his heavy eyes and dusty cloak suggesting he was one of those who had been on sentry duty all night. “The scouts have returned and are heading over this way” Crastinus continued as Marcus waved them to some small, wooden, backless folding chairs, which they both took and sat upon.

  “Anything to report from the sentries?”

  “Nothing, sir. A quiet night�
�� Crastinus replied. The man behind him nodded his agreement.

  “Good. As soon as the auspices have been taken we’ll continue towards the river here” Marcus tapped his finger on the map, Crastinus stretching his neck to see the location. As he looked up several officers and a handful of scouts appeared and crammed into the tent, Crastinus and his colleague jumping to their feet and standing away from the seats to allow their superiors to sit. After a few moments the scouts and centurions were sent away with their orders and the senior officers stood around the table looking at the map.

  Marcus took a small wooden horse from his box and placed it on the map to the north of the river and next to a badly drawn forest. “If the scouts have it right then the main enemy forces are here” he said as he added another two wooden blocks carved in the shape of foot soldiers. “The approach would suggest that the area here is the best place for our forces to move towards, with cavalry at our front and velites in groups ahead of them to root out any ambushers” he said as he looked up at the officers.

  “I agree” said Publius Valerius as he leant over the map, his head nodding slowly. “What is this?” he asked as he moved a finger to a brown smudge on the right of the location on which Marcus had just placed two blocks of soldiers.