The King of Rome

by Francis Mulhern

  Turning abruptly Capitolinus stared at Garvi. “Well?” he asked.

  Garvi swallowed hard, his hands clasped tightly together as he stared at the floor and his mouth worked without a sound.

  “Spit it out lad” growled the man who’d brought him into the room. “And if you’re wasting the bosses time I’ll kick your arse all the way back to the forum.”

  Garvi scowled back at him with a look of loathing before he turned his eyes to Capitolinus. “It’s” he said, before his words failed him and he swallowed nervously again.

  “Here” Capitolinus said, thrusting the wine cup he held in his hand at the boy. “Drink this, say what you have to say and if it’s useful I’ll make sure you’re rewarded adequately. If not, I’ll join them in kicking your arse back to where you came from.”

  Garvi gulped at the wine, his adam’s apple bouncing as he slurped the drink down his chin. “It’s Javenoli” he said as soon as he could get his breath. “He’s got a new contract with the Aetius brothers. Timber and ships is what I heard.” Capitolinus raised his eyes at this. “He’s buying up the timber yards in every city he can” he added quickly. “And he’s got that woman of his going to Seti and Anxur to broker more deals. She says she has family there” he added, draining the cup anxiously as his information had now been delivered.

  Capitolinus stood, momentarily, in silence, making Garvi peer at the thug to his right nervously. “Interesting” was all Capitolinus said as he moved to a desk and opened a thin drawer. Inside was a small pile of silver, some depicting Greek helmeted soldiers, some with animals clawing at each other cast onto the obverse. He selected three of the oldest, most worn, from the drawer and brought them to Garvi. Nodding, he handed the lad the money, Garvi taking the silver slowly as he cautiously watched for any movement from the men who surrounded him. “Take him out the back, make sure nobody sees him leave” he said to the three men. “And Garvi” added Capitolinus as he looked at the boy “thank you.” Garvi’s eyes flicked around the room quickly as he bowed before he was, roughly, grasped by one of the thugs and dragged towards the door. “And if these louts take any of that silver, boy, you get a message to me, right?” he added as the men thrust the boy through the door at the rear of the room.

  So, what was Javenoli up to now? Timber? The Capitol Men already had their hands in timber production. Was this a new venture for them all? Was this a new solo venture? Javenoli had promised to pay him out of the contracts and he’d settled on forty pounds of gold, a very healthy amount by anyone’s standards, but Javenoli had more hidden away, he was sure. He scratched his chin for a moment as he looked up at the statue of Jupiter on the temple, visible from his rear window. The god looked down at him with that same wry smile that he always used and Capitolinus found his own mouth framing the same movement. Three black birds rose from the roof opposite and began to, lazily, beat their wings as they flew off across the city. He watched them go. Three, what did that mean? He’d looked at the god and three birds had flown up, as if they had been summoned by Jupiter himself. Three. He must find out what it meant, surely it was a sign?

  An hour later the soothsayer had left the house, the drawer of silver lighter by two more coins, this time the larger, heavier, type. Three. The soothsayer had said it was a sign that the sacred triumvirate were working together again, a positive indication that good things were to come. Capitolinus had lapped it up like a puppy taking praise from his master. The fact that the birds had flown over the Capitol Hill was also, said the man, a clear sign that Capitolinus’ own chosen god was smiling on him benevolently. A few moments later an urgent knock came at his front door, the door slave rushing in to call him, his face a mask of fear. “Master, there was a knock, and then…” he stared back over his shoulder. “I…I opened the door and it was just there” he said to Capitolinus’ confused face.

  Rushing to the door he saw the blood before he realised who it was that was lying across the threshold, the ripped throat and bashed face ignored as he saw the blood-spattered foot of Garvi lying loosely across the doorway.

  ****

  “So Garvi was the spy? You are sure?”

  Istros shrugged. “Yes. I saw it with my own eyes” he added. “And I asked one of the three men who were with him when I caught them to confirm what the boy had told Capitolinus” he smiled, a split lip showing as a red line.

  Javenoli noticed the bruising on Istros’ face for the first time since the assassin had arrived at the palace, but decided to ignore whatever methods the man had used to get the information. He ground his teeth. “I must know if any other slaves are in his pay” he said with venom in his voice. It was the right of any Roman to punish all of his slaves if one was found to be errant, and Javenoli was no stranger to this action. Istros allowed his features to scowl as he nodded his understanding of what he had to do.

  ************

  Brevo placed his bag on the floor and sat on the tree trunk next to it, Crastinus, Petronius and three other men heading in his direction. He pulled a short dagger from the bag and frowned as he looked at the blade; good quality. He pushed aside the bag with his foot as Crastinus arrived and sat next to him, his bag also dropping to the floor.

  “Got anything nice?” asked the second in command as he too began to shuffle through his pack of spoils.

  “Couple of nice greaves I can sell, small bag of coins, I left the helmets with the lads” replied Brevo as he continued to lay items on the floor in front of him.

  Crastinus did the same, as did more men as they joined the group of junior officers. Soon a pile of daggers, used military equipment, necklaces, bracelets, various lucky charms (which hadn’t been successful) and oddly shaped coins was spread around the men. Each of the officers lifting and checking items as they voiced interest in specific items.

  “That was bloody work” Brevo said slowly, his hands still crusted in dried brown and red clumps. “Not my sort of work” he added with heavy eyes.

  “Nobody’s sort of work” answered Verus to his left, his tunic ripped in several places and a fresh scar on his right forearm which looked painful but didn’t seem to bother the soldier.

  “Had to be done” Crastinus replied coldly. “Bastards’d be back in a month if we didn’t do it.” Heads nodded agreement and grumbled confirmation that his view was also that of all the assembled men. “Did you see what happened at the river?” he asked, looking up at Petronius, who was happily eyeing up a thick gold ring with a thin green stone in its centre.

  “What? Yes” he said as he placed the ring back on the floor alongside a line of other items. “I’d like to put my name on that lads” he said as others noted his preference.

  “Well, what happened?”

  “Valerius launched his cavalry into their left” he shook his head at the memory. “They just” he shrugged “sliced through them. The rest ran straight at us as they had nowhere else to go. Stupid” he picked up a leather shoulder guard which was missing one of its two straps and started to rotate it to get a better view of the stitching as he continued. “We launched the javelins at them and then just went straight at them, blades out, shields to the front. They came at us like those bloody Gauls did” he said, looking up at some of the others across from him, their eyes holding the memory of the previous encounter. “Straight onto the shields. No weapons half of them” he shook his head. “Bloody stupid, but they knew there was no surrender. Better to die with a sword in your hand if you ask me” he shrugged.

  “How many were killed?” asked Brevo.

  “Couple of hundred. I couldn’t say.” Replacing the shoulder guard Petronius moved on to a strange bronze amulet in the shape of a pregnant woman. It was covered in sticky blood, which he wiped off on the grass at his foot before nodding at the craftmanship. “And this” he said as he placed it next to the ring he’d singled out earlier. “Valaria will like that” he added with a smile.

  Crastinus looked up at a movement away to their left. “Did any escape?” he asked, wat
ching a group of fifty or more riders moving noisily away from the bulk of the army.

  “A few” came the reply. “But I would say that almost every man was slain.”

  Crastinus stood and looked over the heads of the soldiers around him, his eyes narrowing. “What’s happening?” he asked no-one, causing three other men to turn their heads in the direction he was looking.

  “Looks like the general and some of the cavalry are moving out.” Crastinus nodded to the pile. “Keep my lot together” has said to Brevo, who nodded his understanding. “I’ll go and have a look.”

  Approaching Narcius the centurion of the second cohort gestured towards the marching column. “Sir, what’s up?”

  Narcius turned a heavy face to his junior and frowned. “Camillus is returning to Rome. He wants the senate to agree to the army moving on Antium and ending the war.”

  “Antium” said Crastinus with clenched teeth. “That’ll be a bastard” he said. “Walls as thick as a Volscans skull and a hundred years of trenches dug into the hillside.” He shook his head and let out a long breath. “We’ll needs siege weapons and a whole new army to crack that nut” he added. Narcius simply stared after the riders, his hand patting his thigh as he watched. “Bloody business” Crastinus said. Narcius made a sound which suggested it was, and then nodded towards the centurions who were dividing their spoils.

  “I hope you scavengers have left me something?” he asked as Crastinus half laughed.

  “Don’t see your pile in there, boss” came the quip.

  Narcius’ shoulders drooped slightly as he sighed and shook his head. “Jupiter knows where I put it” he said as he looked around. “I didn’t get much time to find anything, truth be told” he added. Crastinus put a hand on his arm.

  “I’ll make sure the lads leave you something of value, sir. There’s a nice phallus with the end cut-off, be just your sort of thing” he added with a dip of his eyes towards Narcius’ groin.

  “Get out…” growled Narcius, lifting his arm and waving it menacingly at Crastinus, who stepped back with a broad grin. Both men burst out laughing, causing some of the soldiers nearby to look up, their faces lighting up as they saw their superiors light-hearted banter.

  “Right” said Narcius after he composed himself. “For that, you can get the lads into order. We’re to camp here and await further instructions, I’d appreciate it if you’d take one through four” by which he meant the cohorts “and I’ll take the rest. You’re on camp construction, I’ll get latrines and sentries organised. Wine in my tent at sundown, bring the lads” he smiled as Crastinus slapped his shoulder before adding “Yes, sir” and turning back to the group of junior officers he’d left organising their own spoils.

  “I’ll make sure your phallus is well polished” he laughed as he left, Narcius shaking his head in response.

  ********

  Night fell like a blanket slipping over the city. Clouds had spread across the sky and the temperature dropped to a level which was uncomfortable in a single tunic. Istros had beaten several slaves and even had two whipped to make the point clear that spying on their master was a bad idea. He’d enjoyed some of the beatings, but after a while it became mechanical and dull, clearly the slaves had little or no knowledge of anything Garvi had done. He’d found a small pile of silver dug into the floor below his sleeping blanket, which would obviously have been removed if any of the other slaves knew it was there. Having reported to Javenoli he’d bathed and slept before deciding to take himself to a small inn at the corner of the Etruscan Road. He knew most of the faces who drank here and he felt as safe as he could in a Rome which was filled with men, and women, who would slit your throat for the clothes you stood in.

  The inn seemed quiet tonight, the darkness making it more dangerous to travel the streets than usual. Watering the, very inferior quality, wine he was drinking, Istros considered his position. Since coming to Rome he’d found his feet with Javenoli, earning enough money to return home a relatively rich man. He thought about this for a moment. What had he to return to Thrace for? His memories stirred as he spent some time pondering this question, glumly staring into the half empty wine cup. Maybe Rome was his new home. Maybe he should settle down here, he thought. He maintained a close look on every door as he sipped his wine and considered options. A house in Rome would be a promising idea. A woman? He almost nodded at the thought as the corners of his mouth lifted. Javenoli’s woman had left for Anxur with a heavy bodyguard. She was to buy forest lands in her own name, which wasn’t the exact information that Garvi had given to Capitolinus, but was close enough. He liked Pompeia. She was feisty, full blooded and had an interesting face, not like some of these Roman women who had long thin noses and hands the size of the spider-crabs the local seamen brought out of the bay back at home. He smiled at the analogy. Javenoli continued to surprise him with his scheming and plans. The man had chests of silver, gold and bronze. His rooms were crammed with rich treasures from the best craftsmen. Yet, unlike all the other family obsessed Romans, he knew that Javenoli was lacking an heir. He’d heard Pompeia discussing it with him on several occasions, their conversations turning to how the gods favoured his touch with monetary affairs but not with those of family. Pompeia, too, had borne no children, even during her marriage she had not shown the slightest sign of falling with child despite several concoctions from local wise-women, lying naked for two days in a corn field during harvest or eating as much powdered horn, fish guts or pickled sheep testicles as she could stomach. That had brought laughter to them both and Istros had left them to their conversations after that.

  Tonight, Istros decided, he needed the touch of a woman. It had been a long time, and in all honesty, he hadn’t considered such necessities having spent too many nights out on Javenoli’s missions. But where to go? He considered one of Javenoli’s own brothels, there were some excellent quality girls to be had along the lower Quirinal. Yes, that was it. The redhead. He suddenly felt hungry at the thought, so ordered some broth. He’d need his energy. He allowed himself to grin at the thoughts starting to work through his mind, turning an eye to the serving girl as she returned with his meal, a hunk of crusty bread accompanying the meaty smelling broth. He devoured the meal, dropped some copper coins into the empty bowl and started to pull his woollen cloak over his shoulders when he noticed two men suddenly become interested in his movements; their quick glances to both him and then themselves telling him everything he needed to know. With a resigned sigh, he continued to pull the cloak around his shoulders and headed for the door, knowing that there would be others waiting for him outside. He stood for a second or two adjusting his cloak and looking back into the room as if he had forgotten something, but really, he was watching the two men as they, too, were now rising from their seats, their intentions clear. With as much noise as he could manage, and looking angry at himself, he moved back to his table and sat down, fumbling under the table as if he had lost something and keeping an eye on the two men, who now appeared to be confused about whether to stay or go. Their own confusion caused the serving girl some issues as she was already at the table moving bowls and wiping at the slops which needed to be removed for the next customer.

  As she had blocked the path for the two watchers to the doorway Istros strode for it, opening and closing the door as quickly as he could with his hood pulled up over his head. Without the two men following him into the street he knew he would have several seconds to gain ground on whoever was awaiting his leaving the inn. Sure enough, outside were three men, who all looked up as he exited the door, one standing with a hand to his hip in anticipation; right handed and a short dagger, noted Istros. As nobody else left the inn immediately, the man re-took his seat and the noise of dice being shaken in a cup started, as Istros, not recognised because of his cloak, slipped immediately right and into an alley, taking three steps before he sprinted along the road with every ounce of energy that he owned.

  After a lung-busting run he flung himself to the ground in an
olive grove below the Flumentane Gate. The small, gnarled, trees were indistinct shapes in the darkness and as he lay on his back breathing heavily and thanked his own gods for helping him to escape. He rubbed his left calf, which had tightened considerably during his escape. He realised now just how steep some of the hills in Rome were and how it was advantageous to remain fit if he was to continue the work he did for Javenoli. No sounds, except the barking of a few dogs somewhere away to his left, came to his ears. He wrapped the cloak around his shoulders and moved in close to the trunk of a short tree, the branches hanging low so that he needed to duck his head to get close to the body of the tree. So, five men were in pursuit. One he thought he recognised, from those who had chased him. Capitolinus’ men for sure. Another interesting turn of events, he thought. If it isn’t Cincinnatus after his blood, then it’s Capitolinus. He must know that it was he who had killed Garvi; maybe dumping the boys foot on his doorstep was a mistake, he grinned to himself. Rome was becoming a very dangerous place. Should he leave? Simply take his valuables and go? His thoughts of earlier that evening ran through his mind, the redhead causing a moment’s hesitation, was there still time? He shook away the thought with a tight jaw and lay down by the tree and closed his eyes. Nobody would find him out here. Sleep was more important than a night with the redhead, and dreaming of her would cost him nothing.

  Something bit his ankle and made him jump, stifling a curse. The scene he awoke to was one of semi-darkness, but the green-brown hue of the sky suggested dawn was close at hand. Stars still sparkled where they were visible through the clouds and the chilly night had spread some mist across the lower slopes of the olive grove, where he lay rubbing his ankle. The bite felt sore, probably a tick or a flea. He cursed silently as he continued to rub the spot before licking his finger and then rubbing his own saliva over the location of the, now stinging, bite. Despite all of this he’d slept well, good in fact. Feeling refreshed, but dry mouthed, he raised himself to his knees and peered around, looking for any signs of movement. Light began to creep across the hills as he rubbed at his temples and yawned. A low drumming noise suddenly came to his ears, horses. Was that what had awakened him? He stood and turned to see the shape of a whole cavalry detachment moving along the road in formation, moving very slowly due to the low levels of light, but still moving in his direction and towards the city. He moved to the roadside, throwing anxious glances up and down the road to make certain that nobody remained out looking for him from the previous evening and then sat on a large rock by the side of the road and waited for the riders to come by.