The King of Rome

by Francis Mulhern

  Thinking quickly Istros wondered if he should intervene, the fight had to be taken from Baltus and Regullus if Capitolinus wasn’t to lose his life. Despite the man’s issues with his boss Javenoli, he thought this was a fight the man shouldn’t lose. Red blood spattered onto a wall as a knife sliced a raised arm, the cry of pain just another shout drowned out by the continued racket made by the men around them. Looking at the floor Istros grabbed a heavy stone and shouted to the few on-lookers who had followed Capitolinus down the hill and now stood impotently watching, shouting or wailing. “Help them” he shouted, looking at an old man, who turned in shock at the strong voice coming from the not-so-bent old man to his right. Istros launched the first stone directly at Baltus, the stone clattering into wall at his side, a bad throw encumbered by his cloak. He turned and shouted again at the small crowd. “Come on” he screamed and launched another rock. The old man, his forearms covered in old scars, grinned and bent to pick up a stone. Istros’ second stone caught the arm of Baltus and his eyes searched for the thrower momentarily before he set back on his path towards Capitolinus, who was on his feet and kicking at a red-headed man who had fallen to the floor covered in blood. More stones now started landing into the fighting crowd, although not all were aimed well, and Capitolinus’ men found themselves ducking from poorly aimed missiles as much as the attacking Cincinnatus force. Pounding feet announced the arrival of more men behind Istros, the attackers noting the new arrival with a modicum of fear. Baltus grabbed a beard and yanked a head into his rising knee, the heavy crack announcing the broken jaw which was evident from the teeth that fell to the floor and the numb-sounding yell of the battered defender.

  “Boss?” called a voice. Baltus looked over at the new arrivals, a small stone catching his shoulder and eliciting an angry stare at a woman who had thrown it with surprising accuracy.

  “Go” called the thug. As he said it several of the attackers peeled off from their assault, stepping back with fists raised, knives and cudgels swung outwards to clear the men who attempted to follow them. “You won’t take over this city, Manlius” Roared Baltus, avoiding the use of the man’s new god-given name. “We’ll be back when you least expect it. And you owe me” he screamed in defiance, before turning and running back into the group behind him. Capitolinus’ men roared and started to chase, but Capitolinus called them back quickly, turning his head to look for the old man who had thrown the first rock and turned the tide of the fight. The man was nowhere to be seen. He looked at those on the floor, suddenly thinking that the poor old man had been beaten and knocked to the floor, but there was still no sign of him. “Where is that old man?” he asked urgently as faces turned to him. “The one who threw the first rock” he said as others said they had seen him but he had now disappeared.

  The old grey beard who had been shocked at Istros’ voice turned to Capitolinus and with awe in his voice he said, “master. I saw him. he was old and bent, his hands gnarled and twisted with age, but then” he swallowed, his eyes wide. “His voice was that of a young man, his right arm threw stone after stone like a man in his prime. He called, and these men came running” he added as his jaw dropped. “Master, it was Jupiter himself” he said as gasps came from the crowd. “It must have been” he said as he knelt to the floor. “How else could an old man have had such strength?”

  Capitolinus stood facing the old man and turned his head towards Sicinius, who was also standing with his mouth agape. “It was the god himself, giving praise to my words and actions” he said to the crowd. “This man saw it” he pulled the old man towards him and gripped him in a bear hug. “This man saw Jupiter himself fighting with us” he called as more people knelt and called devotions to Jupiter. Taking a pouch from inside his tunic he un-hooked it and poured several small silver coins, enough to feed a man and his family for months, into the hand of the old man. “This is from Jupiter” he said. “If you need more come to my house, though this will suffice you for many years” he added as he quickly closed the man’s fingers around the coins to avoid people seeing exactly how much coinage he’d been gifted. “Jupiter is your friend” he said as the old man’s eyes sparkled and tears ran from his eyes.

  “I saw him” he mumbled, as Capitolinus patted his head like a pet dog. “Jupiter” he said again.

  Capitolinus turned to his men. “Tell everyone what has happened here today” he said to the faces of the crowd. “Tell them how Jupiter follows me, how he watches over me. He has seen him” he said again, pointing to the old man. All faces turned to the wet eyed fellow as he nodded urgently, his hand now gripping the money as if his life depended on it. “We have much to do” he added to his men, “let’s get home and clean up. I want to be in the forum before sun-down. Tell everyone I will be there to make a speech. Rome will hear Jupiter’s voice” he said with a last look to the old man. “And you two” he added with a curt nod “make sure my new friend gets home safely” he said as he old man looked furtively around him, as if every person close to him may suddenly attack him and take his newly acquired silver.

  ******

  “How far?” asked Marcus.

  “An hour or so the scouts suggest” came Valerius’ reply.

  “And the Etruscans are not yet aware of our presence?” Valerius shook his head. Marcus looked to the sky and watched several pigeons flying from tree to tree to avoid the marching Romans. The sky behind them remained light, cloud-filled, but enough daylight for three more hours. In which case, they would have two hours to set up camp or attack the Etruscans when they arrived. Estimates were that the Etruscans were attacking the walls of the town on two sides, both defended well by the Sutrians, but the overwhelming forces and two days of continued attacks would, no doubt, be taking its toll of the defenders. He consulted the hastily drawn picture in the wax that he’d been handed by the scout. The army had moved as quickly as he could move the men, sending Valerius’ cavalry ahead to clear the tracks of obstructions or inform them of any force which might lie in their path. They had camped overnight, only setting a makeshift camp, his gamble that there was no force nearby to attack him meaning that his soldiers didn’t need to labour for hours to build the camp and were, thus, able to move more quickly today.

  A horse appeared along the road, Marcus riding at the front of his force with Valerius at his side. As the rider approached he leant to the side and turned his head to look behind at the extensive line of soldiers marching behind him. Most were carrying their own packs, though some had a donkey or a small wheeled cart full of items for the men close to them. He’d allowed these to help their speed of movement, using the cavalry as out-riders to ensure that they had plenty of warning for any potential attacks. But this was not his own legion, the full time paid legionaries he was used to marching with. The envoys from Sutrium followed directly behind Marcus, and as the army had passed outlying villages men had been procured to join the army. As such his three thousand men had been bolstered by a few hundred more as they marched.

  “We must be cautious, sir” Valerius said as they watched the rider approach “maybe the Etruscans have noticed our approach after all.” Marcus grunted a reply but guessed that any army approaching their front would kick up enough dust to be seen for some miles, which he also supposed would give the Etruscans advanced knowledge of his own arrival. The rider slowed and came to a jerking halt, the tongue of his mount hanging loosely from its mouth as some horses did.

  “Sir” he saluted. “Message from Manius” he said as he handed the chief scouts message to Marcus. Opening the wooden, two-piece, tablet he scanned the words before handing them to Valerius. “He says that it looks as if the Etruscans are aware of our approach, and instead of turning to face us, and be caught with the defending townsfolk at their back, they’re making a final push for the city. All forces deployed, no guards left over their own camp.”

  Marcus turned to Valerius. “You could be at the town in twenty minutes?” he asked the rhetorical question. “Get to their camp, attack i
t with everything you have but do not engage their forces, try to split them up but keep your distance, I don’t want to lose any of your horse” he said as Valerius pursed his lips and handed the scout’s report back.

  “What about the scouts?” asked Valerius.

  “Continue to use them as messengers” came the reply. “I want to get the bulk of the men in as close as possible and to surround the enemy as they attack the town, but time is against us” he glanced back over his shoulder. “Most of these men are un-trained or long in the tooth and will tire easily if I force-march them to Sutrium. Buy us some time, Publius, I need it” he said slowly. “I cannot push these men too hard, they’re not my eagles” he added.

  Valerius saluted and his own men galloped away after him, the drumming of horse hooves disappearing into the distance as the cavalry headed off to do his bidding. Taking a moment to review the wax-inscribed picture again he considered how to approach the town and what formation he would need. After a few minutes of silence, he called the first spear of the second legion, a man called Vascius forward.

  “Vascius” he asked “If I force marched the men for an hour, could they do it?” he asked.

  Vascius snorted, to which Marcus frowned. “They’re not puppies, sir” said the centurion, his face closed under his iron helmet with three thick red feathers. “Don’t under-estimate how fit these men are. We’ve drilled them every day, we’ve walked twenty miles every other day and we’ve had them doing wall-building duties as well” he added coldly, as if the question had been a personal slur. Marcus re-appraised the man, his face lined with wrinkles but his stomach flat and his hands hardened by years of farming or fighting.

  “My apologies” said Marcus, to a slight flicker of movement to the man’s head in acknowledgement. “Then let’s get them moving. Double time for one hour. We need to get to Sutrium as quick as we can.”

  *********

  Chapter 25

  The crowd had swollen to over two hundred as Capitolinus arrived to a tremendous roar, his bodyguard pushing through the jostling bodies who rushed forwards to greet their man. From his vantage point, Istros could see the leaders of various gangs and groups all positioned around the forum in their factions. The largest group consisted of the bruised-faced Baltus and his henchmen as well as several new faces whom Istros had never seen before. Baltus was issuing orders and men were sauntering off to various locations within the crowd, mixing in as best they could with the mob. Taking a sip of water, he relaxed against the window ledge where he sat and checked that nobody was watching him, he still had to be careful. He’d heard that Jupiter himself had come to the aide of Capitolinus in the fight in the street, which had left him somewhat confused upon hearing the news, though it hadn’t taken him long to realise that the story was just an embellishment of his own role in the melee of earlier that day. It made him smile when he considered it, his lips curling as his eyes continued to search the crowd. Baltus was his focus. What was the man up to? His thugs had spread out across the crowd but were all nervously looking towards their leader, who had taken up a position on top of a small crate and was directing their movements with jerks of his head. The crowd suddenly fell silent and Istros looked towards the face of Capitolinus, his arms waving slowly at the people who stood before him.

  “My friends” he started. “It brings joy to Jupiter to see so many of you here today to hear the words he has asked me to speak to you.” Istros shook his head at this blatant attempt to justify his own self-worth, although large sections of the crowd dipped to one knee and waved sprigs of barley towards Capitolinus, a reminder of his role on the Capitol Hill and the love the god held for him. The effect of their movement was like a small ripple on a pool, men and women bowing, then standing in waves. Capitolinus continued to speak. “In sight of Jupiter, greatest and best, himself” he said, turning his head towards the Capitol, which was visible behind, Istros noting that he had placed himself in the one position from which the great statue could clearly be seen, “I have come to speak to you.” He turned slowly back to the crowd. “We, the people of Rome, must look to our leaders in these troubled times. Our leaders” he tightened his lips, his face appearing angry. “Men who have been your voice in the assembly.” He motioned for Sicinius and Menenius to move forward and both men did so, waving to the crowd who began to cheer them. “These men have been your voice and called for changes to the land laws and farming rights. You know how hard they have worked, tirelessly debating points of law with the senate, acting without a thought for their own personal gain, unlike the patricians with whom they have spoken.” Some of the crowd called out at this, shouting that the patricians were thieves. Capitolinus’ eyes sparkled at the effect his words were having. Istros noticed Baltus jump down from his position and begin to edge forwards with four or five of his men, clearing a path towards where the white-robed Capitolinus continued his speech. “Yet despite their words on your behalf the patricians still take the lands which your sons win for you in their campaigns against our enemies. How can it be that the last four land grants all went to patrician families?” he called, the crowd jeering at this. “Did any plebeian family, good Roman families” he added more loudly, “receive anything other than pat on the back for the loss of your sons?” He shook his head in dismay. The crowd called back, angry at his words. “And now we have to pay extra taxes because the Etruscans, the Hernici, the Volscans” he continued to list more local tribes as Istros watched Baltus’ gang forging closer to where the stood. He pulled his bow from behind a barrel which was below the window ledge, notching an arrow.

  “But the local tribes are not the problem” continued Capitolinus. “The problem is the patricians who own this city. They own you” he pointed at the crowd. “Are you free men? Are you the masters of your own destiny? How many people in this crowd are debt free? Yet how many of you gave your possessions, your coin, to the patricians when they bargained with the Gallic invaders?” Voices called from the crowd, clearly showing that they had all given something of value. “And did you receive this money back from the leaders of Rome?” he asked. The crowd jeered more loudly, which masked the fact that Baltus was now reaching the front of the crowd and kicking and punching those who were closest to him and his men. Another sudden surge to Istros’ right, where some of the men Baltus had put into the crowd suddenly started punching and thrashing anyone near them with short whips, caught his eye. Capitolinus hadn’t spotted the sudden change in the crowd, he was too intent on delivering his speech. “Yet the patricians continue to hoard your gold” he shouted, “while you go hungry, your children sent to wars which we cannot afford as our fields lie waiting to be tended, your homes yet to be re-built…”

  “These people have no gold” called Baltus as he pushed a brown-haired boy to the floor, the lad landing heavily. “You have no place here, Manlius” he added, using his family name as he had been instructed by Cincinnatus. “You aren’t one of us, with your privileged family and lands of your own. You have no place here speaking to us.” A crunching blow to a plebeian who had turned and shoved Baltus, was landed by a large thug to Baltus’ right as he spoke. This set off a surge of movement as men in the crowd either pushed forwards to defend their friend or shoved backwards to avoid the trouble that was clearly brewing. “There is no gold hidden by the patricians, Manlius. It is you that is lying to these people.” More punches landed, a wooden club thrashed out and droplets of blood spattered across Baltus’ shoulder as he stepped up towards Capitolinus, fists raised. “Get back to your estate” he laughed. The crowd were now either joining the fight which was spreading, or starting to turn and flee. The noise level continued to rise, Capitolinus now shouting to be heard. “The patricians are deceiving us all. They have gold stored in secret vaults, hidden away in case we lose to our enemies. The signs are there, you have seen them. You know..” he began to say but had to hastily dip as Baltus swung a right handed blow at his head.

  Kicking out at the thick set man, Capitolinus then
ducked his head quickly to avoid a swipe and reacted with a punch into Baltus’ ribs, the corresponding whoosh of air causing the thug to step backwards. Another man smashed a club into Baltus’ shoulder, pulling Capitolinus backwards as Menenius screamed and jumped forwards, fists pummelling anyone who stood in his way.

  “This is the patricians work” called Capitolinus. “They want you to fight amongst yourselves” he screamed. “They want you to destroy yourselves.”

  Istros had dropped his bow back into hiding, knowing that he couldn’t be sure of hitting the right target in the swirling mass of bodies which now covered the forum in front of him. Groups of men were on the floor wrestling, others standing toe to toe like boxers trading blow after blow as they turned red in fury and blood. He watched for a moment longer, seeing Capitolinus attacked by Baltus, though several other men soon obscured his view. The fight was moving swiftly into total carnage as Capitolinus began to intone Jupiter to come and join the fray, to support his followers. This caused some of the attackers to step back, warily looking about them in fear, though the leaders of the gangs continued to plough through the crowd towards the place where Capitolinus was gathered. Another surge suddenly occurred to the left of the forum as a host of men came rushing down from the Capitol, daggers glinting in the early evening sunlight. They crashed into the attackers, knocking them backwards with the force of a legion smiting an enemy. Bodies fell to the floor and were beaten, with no quarter given as to whether they were part of the attacking group or not. The battle raged for ten more minutes as even more men appeared from behind the Curia, these men dressed in dirty brown tunics and clearly local men who had been working nearby.