The King of Rome

by Francis Mulhern

  Cossus stood, his face filled with anger. “So, you have no names Capitolinus. You cannot put roots to this accusation which spreads like a weed in the bountiful garden of Rome. Your words are, as you have said, like leaves in the wind, blown into the gutter to clog up the smooth running of the city. If you do not name those who you say have taken gallic treasures, and you cannot provide proof of any theft, then you must, here and now, confess to falsely accusing the senate of theft, acrime for which you must be incarcerated.”

  *******

  Brevo heard his own lungs wheezing as he half-jogged behind the rank of men who had assembled and were running to the forum. Thick brown military cloaks billowed all around him, men moving in silence, though the slapping of sandals on the thick paved stones reminded him of running through the streets of Veii, memories of faces he’d run-through with his sword racing through his mind. He tried to remove the images as he ran along, but they stared back at him from every dark alley as he desperately tried to keep his legs pumping. They crested the long rise of the main avenue and started to drop into the forum, his breath coming back as the downhill section was somewhat easier than the slog up the rise through the lower slopes of the Palatine hill.

  Ahead he could hear the crowd before he saw the enormous gathering that had come to the forum. The soldiers of the eagle legion began to slow, their pace moving to a march as the crowd turned, and seeing their arrival, began to move aside. Brevo heard a voice from ahead, it sounded like Capitolinus, calling on Jupiter, but he heard no more as the noise of the crowd grew louder. People started to push back as the soldiers moved into the forum itself. Without pausing the leading men of Brevo’s group demanded entry, shoving aside bystanders who turned, open-mouthed, at their sudden arrival.

  ********

  “You ask the impossible, Cossus” said Capitolinus, as the men behind him appeared to close ranks and move into a more aggressive stance. “I call on those who know they have done wrong to look there” he pointed up towards the Capitol Hill. “Jupiter sits and watches. The gods see into the hearts of those who know they are guilty, and ask them to pay back their own debts.” The crowd began to wave their barley stalks again, women chanting the name of Jupiter. Many of the senators had turned to look at the statue of Jupiter atop the temple, some holding their hands to their mouths in expectation of a heavenly thunderbolt, which never materialised.

  Marcus noticed movement back in the crowd, people starting to push and shove, the orderly shape now splitting as a snake of men moved towards the front of the crowd. He turned to Cossus, who had seen the movement too, and whispered, “call the guard, quickly.” But Cossus had moved to the edge of the Comitium and was looking down on Capitolinus.

  Capitolinus continued, unaware of the commotion behind him. “Jupiter knows these men; his wrath will come to them…”

  “You have given no proof, and have given me no option but to arrest you for falsely accusing the senate. Arrest him” he shouted to the attendants. As he spoke the crowd appeared to surge violently and a group of fifty or sixty men pushed into view and began to line up in front of Capitolinus, shielding the dictator from the crowd. Brevo, his head pounding from the exertion, stared at Capitolinus, who was gawking with a look of incredulity on his face at the new arrivals.

  “Look, people of Rome, Look” shouted Capitolinus as one of his followers stepped forwards and tried to wrestle an arresting officer from Capitolinus, who was turning red-faced as he struggled. “Look what they have done. These soldiers hide their paymasters from your questions. They hold no allegiance to Rome, they only follow those who pay them with your stolen gold. Hear the words of Jupiter, the senate do not want to hear these words because they are too painful, too close to the truth, which hurts when publicly decried. I ask Jupiter to…” but his voice was drowned as the crowd began to shout and move in a swirl of anger, people pushing and shoving.

  “Take him away” called Cossus over the anger of the mob. The soldiers marched forwards in one, practised, movement, shoving with their arms and pushing back the crowds. Capitolinus’ followers surged into the melee, voices rising into the air as shrieks and screams began to come from the crowd.

  “Stop, stop” shouted Capitolinus as he was dragged away, his tunic splitting across his shoulder to show a bare white arm. “People of Rome, Jupiter is watching, he asks for those who know they have done wrong to come forward and admit their crimes. The gallic gold has been hidden from you, debts should be repaid. Jupiter knows this” he shouted as he shrugged two fearful attendants away and stood, rearranging his tunic over his arm. “I will go peacefully,” he shouted. “For I have done nothing wrong.” With a look to the fighting mob behind him he started to shout for peace, waving his arms above his head as he did so.

  Marcus stared in disbelief at what had happened. A group of men from the eagles had come to the forum and attempted to create a barrier between the senate and the people. In his heart he knew that this was well-intentioned, but it had suddenly caused the crowd to react violently, fighting breaking out as soon as the attendants had attempted to arrest Capitolinus. He moved forward, next to Cossus and called out over the heads of the crowd. “Soldiers of Rome” he shouted. “Cease this fight for it is not wanted. This is a lawful action and does not merit such violence.” His words carried across the heads of the crowd, many people turning to the sound of his voice and beginning to move apart. “Cease” he called again.

  Capitolinus looked up and scowled as he saw Marcus step in front of the dictator. “See, people of Rome” he shouted in reply as he pushed away an attendant and thrust out his chest, daring the man to move against him again. “The soldiers follow their paymaster, not the dictator. Jupiter has seen this” he shouted, causing a deep growl from crowd. “Look into your heart Camillus, see what the gods say to you.” With this he turned his back to the Comitium and shouted, more loudly, his arms high above his head and voice booming like a thunder-clap. “Jupiter Optimus Maximus, Queens Juno and Minerva and all the gods and goddesses that dwell on the Capitol and Citadels, is it thus that you suffer your soldier, your protector to be tormented by his adversaries? Shall this right arm, which saved you from being chained and fettered as these people are now chained and fettered by the rich, be now submitted to being incarcerated at your displeasure?”

  Cossus, unceremoniously, shoved Marcus aside and shouted over the silence that Capitolinus’ words had created. “People of Rome, by the power invested in me as Dictator” his words caused all to suddenly fall into silence, heads bowing and people shuffling backwards at the anger which now emanated from the man. “I demand that this crowd disperse and that Marcus Manlius Capitolinus be taken to gaol immediately. Until he can speak the names of those he denounces, he will rot in the Carcer. Take him” he yelled.

  “I go freely” shouted Capitolinus as he avoided the grip of one of the arresting attendants. “Mark my words” he shouted as he stared up at Javenoli, who had come to look down at him, “The gods know that my words are true. They will free me as they also free debts from those who follow me. Jupiter watches” he shouted as he turned a baleful face towards the Comitium. “This right arm holds the power that Jupiter has given me, and Jupiter will watch over me. Change is coming. Change which will shake the foundations of Rome. The signs have been seen, the auspices were clear” he added as he looked at his own, clenched, fist before storming away towards the Carcer in the north-eastern slope of the Capitol Hill.

  ************

  Chapter 35

  The cage to the Carcer swung worryingly from side to side as Sicinius was lowered into the darkness. He dropped through the frigid air, which became still and more foul-smelling the lower he went, his hand instinctively moving to cover his mouth and nose. The clunk of the cage brought his hand away from his mouth as he opened the door and stepped out into the fetid air.

  “Ah, a visitor” said Capitolinus as he appeared, dishevelled, in front of the plebeian tribune.

  “Gods” said a
startled Sicinius. “Look at the state of you” he gasped, untying a sack of food from his shoulder and placing it on the floor. “From your family and supporters” he said.

  “Do they still remember who I am” laughed Capitolinus. “It’s been a few days since I last had a visitor.”

  Sicinius coughed, the smell still clawing at his senses.

  “Disgusting isn’t it” said Capitolinus as he took a handful of soft bread and started to chew. “But you get used to it” he added, pulling the cork from a small amphora with his teeth. “Tell me how the people have reacted to my imprisonment.”

  “The followers have been standing outside the gaol day and night demanding your release, calling for the senate to remember the great deeds you did on the Capitol, how you saved Rome and how you only challenge the law to help the free man to remain unchained. It’s exactly as you asked” smiled the plebeian.

  “Excellent. And the raids at night? What have the senate done in response?” he asked, his mouth now filled with soft dates, which he chewed noisily.

  Sicinius smiled malevolently before answering. “The plans are working just as you said they would. People are flocking to your cause, the men have not shaved their beards, their clothes are in tatters to mimick your stay in gaol. Every attack has been done exactly as you stated, enough damage to annoy the patricians, nobody hurt and nobody to blame. It could not be any better” he finished, smiling.

  Capitolinus stopped chewing and pursed his lips as he looked up at the small square light of the entrance to the Carcer, the underground prison. “Then today we must ramp up the violence a notch. But I need something that will win the people over when I am released, for Jupiter has told me I will be released” he said, to the open-mouthed expression from Sicinius. “Keep your ears open to any hard-luck story that everyone is talking about, something which pits the poor man against the patricians” he finished with a pained expression as the call from above announced that Sicinius’ time for visiting was already finished. “We will rule this city one day, my friend” Capitolinus said as he clasped Sicinius in a great hug and kissed him on the cheek. “Rome needs us now, more than ever.”

  ********

  “What do you mean no credit?” barked Brevo, his words echoing around the courtyard.

  “Sorry, Brevo” came the meek response from the butcher. “I’ve got a family to feed, just like you and it’s been made clear that if I serve you” he shook his head. “Well you know what the bastards are like” continued the bald-headed man, slamming a thick knife into the chopping block at which he stood. “If I feed you they’ll take it out on me.”

  Brevo considered arguing his point, but knew it would make no difference. Every shop he’d been to that day had turned him away with a similar story, and taking out his anger on the butcher wouldn’t solve the real problem; Cincinnatus. He turned and stomped away, his hand falling to his dagger as he considered his next move. After ten minutes he rounded the corner of the crossroad by the Etruscan road and headed for the tall, red-painted, building which served as an army staging post. He knew he’d find Narcius and Crastinus inside, and sure enough they were both leaning over the well as a bucket was drawn from its depths.

  “Ah, boss” called Brevo, a thick red scab on his lip which remained from his efforts at Satricum hurt as he spoke, making his voice sound sleepy or drunk.

  Both centurions turned warm eyes to him as he approached. “Brevo” said Narcius. “Are you reporting for duty already? I thought you’d be off duty for another full moon.”

  “No sir, still aching and weak” replied Brevo, rubbing at his elbow and chest as he spoke. Crastinus smiled and punched Brevo on the shoulder, bringing an angry grunt from the new arrival.

  “Nothing wrong with you, lad” he said as he winked at Narcius. “You said he’d never be as ugly as Vetto” he shook his head “I think you were wrong.”

  Brevo returned the punch with nothing more than an angry glare before speaking. “Sir” he addressed Narcius. “I’ve got a bit of a problem” he said, his senior centurion raising his eyebrows in exasperation.

  “What is it this time? Gambling?”

  “No, sir” replied Brevo, his voice rising in pitch as he shook his head. “While I was away getting my centurion sash back at the gates of Satricum, that bastard Cincinnatus called in my debts and smashed up the estate, took my brother’s wife into one of his brothels…” both men turned sharp looks at this.

  “What? While you were away on the campaign? That’s not the done thing” snapped Crastinus with anger.

  “Yes, sir. I know, sir” said Brevo. “But I went and got her back” he added, “and I paid the majority of the debt with my gold from the campaign” he added, his chest rising as he spoke. Both centurions nodded at this and said they’d heard the story. “But, he’s called on all his patrons to stop serving me. I can’t get any food, flour, meat, cloth, anything within the city. None of the building yards will take on any of the Brevo clan, I can’t bring in any money. He’s shut the whole city against us. I don’t know what to do” he said forlornly. “I wondered…” his voice tailed off.

  Narcius looked to Crastinus with a sour expression. “Alright, Brevo” said the first spear, his fists clenched into a ball. “Get some grub from Vascius in there” his head nodded towards a low doorway. “And we’ll see what we can do. Can’t let the hero of Satricum starve, can we?” Brevo gave his heartfelt thanks and left with a sack-full of victuals, thanking the two officers again as he left.

  “That’s a bad do” said Crastinus as they watched Brevo leave. “But what can we do about it? If Cincinnatus is closing his nets on Brevo, then he’s stuffed. The man owns half the shops and traders in the city, and what he doesn’t own he has his claws into them in one way or another.”

  Narcius agreed. It seems like there was nothing they could do for Brevo.

  ********

  Menenius sat with his hands curled around a bowl of hot soup. The autumnal weather had started to turn, and the days were already growing colder, the smoke from fires now starting to fill the skies earlier and earlier as people sought heat and warmth. He watched another ship come sailing into the docks loaded with wood. He knew the ships were owned by Flavius Aetius, who seemed to have profited well from the change in circumstances in Rome. His fleets had grown with wood bought from cities as far away as Pompey, and his stone house on the Quirinal had, he’d heard from a source, now got a fully working fountain in the yard. He considered the jobs that Aetius had given to plebeian families, each family earning enough to not only rebuild their own houses but allowing their neighbours to use some of the spares to rebuild their own. Was the system all that bad, he asked himself, or was it just the hatred people like Sicinius, who regarded every patrician as a greedy, money-grabbing, plebeian-hating boil on the face of Rome? Whatever the issues were, what he saw in the streets was very different to the picture created by his fellow plebeian tribune. He blew on the soup and watched two dogs sniffing at each other’s privates, which brought a smile to his face, before he tipped the bowl up and took a long mouthful. As he placed the bowl back on the table he almost choked as Istros suddenly dropped into the seat next to him, cloak wrapped around his shoulders and thick fisherman’s hat on his head.

  “Good?” he nodded towards the bowl jovially.

  Menenius didn’t know if the killer meant to take his food or was simply asking the question prior to ordering his own. “Err, yes” he replied. Brevo waved at the counter and pointed to the bowl.

  “So, what information have you on these attacks? Where will they be tonight?” he asked quietly, getting immediately to the point.

  Menenius hadn’t expected the visit and was dumbstruck for a moment. He stumbled out a few words about the previous few overnight arson attacks as well as a description of which men had been involved, Istros nodding his understanding as he started to sip the warm soup which had been brought to himwhile Menenius talked. “And did any of your men say whether Cincinnatus had bee
n out in force to secure his stores?”

  “Yes, he’s got men all over the place, especially that big thug of his, Andros.” Istros nodded at this, thinking it was good news that his men were spread thinly across the city. Looking around slowly, and seeing only empty seats and a busy dockyard some distance away, he continued. “Tonight, there’s going to be an attack on the brothels by the Caelian. Nothing bad, just enough for the patricians to know that the people aren’t happy about Capitolinus being in gaol.”

  “I think the slogans scrawled over every wall and the men standing on street corners in their rags shouting about how innocent he is are a clear indication that they aren’t happy” replied Istros, taking another long slurp of his soup. The brothels Menenius had mentioned included those of Javenoli, so he’d have to get that information to him as soon as he could. “Is there anything else I should know?” he asked with a final slurp of his soup. Menenius shook his head, so Istros put a few coins on the table, stood and strolled off into the street without another word. The plebeian tribune watched him disappear around a corner, wondering if there would ever be an end to this subterfuge in Rome. He considered his own position. He’d entered politics to do good for his family and all those that he knew were struggling to make a living in the city. He’d wanted to make a difference, to change the laws, get better deals for the plebeians, but what had he achieved. The plebeians still had very few rights. Only those who had close links to the richest and most powerful patricians had any real control over their destinies, and even that was limited. Money was everything, he thought to himself, finishing his soup and staring into the empty bowl. Yet, even with money there didn’t seem to be any happiness. Looking up at the houses before him he decided that he would spend an hour at the temple of Saturn and dedicate a chicken to the god. He decided that if his fate was to improve he needed a divine sponsor.