“Once your men clear the Forum I want you to hold your positions,” Marcus said, as ignoring the foul outburst he turned to the two senior cohort commanders who were striding on beside him. “We shall spend the night guarding the Forum. Then tomorrow at dawn, I need you to start clearing the city one district at a time. If anyone puts up resistance or attacks your men, you are to kill them. We are not taking shit from anyone anymore. At the same time, we are going to announce a curfew. No one is allowed out onto the streets, punishable by immediate execution.”
“My men will see it done,” one of the guard commanders growled, as he grimly stared down the street.
Ahead Marcus could see that the vanguard of the police column was finally approaching the entrance to the Forum. A mob of around fifty or so armed looters, men and women, were slowly retreating before the disciplined and inexorable approach, shouting and screaming at the heavily-armed guardsmen in defiance, as if to show that they were not afraid. As another roof tile crashed and shattered to pieces against a shield, one of the company Centurion’s shouted an order and the foremost company paused and hastily raised their shields above their heads and began to form up into a tightly packed testudo formation.
“You had better stay here Sir whilst my men clear the Forum,” one of the cohort commanders cried out, as he hastily drew his sword and turned to give Marcus a grim look. “Leave this to us soldiers. This is going to get bloody. No mercy to anyone who puts up resistance. I shall remember those words of yours, prefect. You and you alone, are going to be responsible for what happens now.”
Chapter Nine – A Week is a Long Time in Politics
The dull, rhythmic tramp of the soldiers’ hobnailed boots on the paving stones was continuous. It was morning and Marcus, flanked by Paulinus and Claudia, was standing on the broad, stone steps leading up into the temple of Saturn. He was gazing at the long column of praetorian and urban guards as they snaked their way through the Forum and off in the direction of the Coliseum. A week had passed since the riots had begun and Similis, the urban prefect - the man tasked with the security of the city of Rome, had finally returned with his soldiers. Marcus looked exhausted. Dark circles had formed around his eyes and his chin was unshaven. He had not been home in a week. Thankfully the security situation in the city, although fragile, had started to calm down after he had managed to clear the Forum six days ago. But that had been just the start of his task. Work had kept him busy - work, tireless, endless work - trying to figure out how to minimise the damage that the loss of the Egyptian grain fleet had caused. It had been a monumental, nearly impossible task.
“Look,” Paulinus said with a little humourless chuckle, “there is the banner of the 6th Cohort again. I thought I had seen it before. Similis is having his men march around in circles. It’s a show. He’s trying to pretend that he has more men than he actually has. He’s trying to impress the people of Rome with a show of strength.”
“He doesn’t look very happy,” Claudia replied, as she glanced in the direction of the urban prefect who was standing watching his troops as they filed past. Then she turned to give Marcus a brief, sympathetic glance. “A week is a long time in politics. You need to go home Marcus and see your wife. You look like you could sleep for a month.”
Marcus grunted and shook his head. “There is still work to be done,” he muttered. “Similis wants to meet us to discuss the situation.”
“I am sure he does,” Claudia said cryptically, as she looked away. “No doubt he is already thinking about how he is going to protect his reputation and limit the damage to his career.”
Marcus frowned. Similis was officially his boss, a supporter of Hadrian but a moderate who could be persuaded to switch sides, if the price was right. That was how Nigrinus had managed to get Marcus appointed in the first place. But since being appointed prefect of the grain supply, he’d not had much contact with Similis, which was not really a bad thing, Marcus thought, as grimly he turned to gaze at the man. He was about to turn away and re-enter the temple of Saturn, when a voice called out his name and a young man came limping towards him. Marcus paused in surprise. He didn’t recognise the young man who was in his mid to late twenties and who looked like an ex-soldier. The white arm-band of the vigilante home guard, the irregular force of ordinary citizens that had formed during the riots to defend their homes, was tied around one arm and a sword was strapped to his belt. Limping towards him, the young, handsome man raised his hand in greeting and then rapped out a quick military salute.
“I have been meaning to speak to you Sir,” the man said, mustering a quick smile. “My name is Aledus. I am a friend of your son Fergus. We served together in the Twentieth at Deva.”
Marcus raised his eyebrows.
“You are a friend of Fergus,” he exclaimed.
“That’s right,” Aledus called out in a cheerful voice. “Served with him in Britannia, Germania and during the Dacian war Sir, but now I am out of the army. Got injured Sir. It’s my leg. I can’t run and keep up on the march. The army said that I was no good anymore. So, they gave me an honourable and medical discharge.” Aledus paused as he examined Marcus. “I fulfilled my vow Sir,” he said in a quieter voice. “I was a good soldier. Your son will confirm that. So afterwards, I came to Rome. I heard about your veteran’s charity. Fergus always spoke highly of you Sir.”
Marcus nodded. “What do you want?” he asked.
“I need a job,” Aledus said quickly. “A proper job Sir. I was wondering whether you could help.”
***
The treasury officials stood stiffly pressed up against the wall of the room, staring into space and beside the huge veiled statue of Saturn, the temple priests had gathered and were carefully observing proceedings. Around the table in the inner sanctum of the aerarium in the temple of Saturn, above the vaults where the gold and silver from Rome’s senatorial provinces was kept, Similis, Marcus, Paulinus and a few other senators had taken their seats. The mood was sombre, and the stuffy, airless room remained silent as the men around the table tensely busied themselves with nothing. Similis was looking down at the wooden table top. His stern, deeply-tanned face contrasted with his closely cropped white hair and he looked distinctly unhappy. The urban prefect had only said a few words since Marcus had initially greeted him on his return to the city that morning.
“Report,” Similis snapped at last, as he raised his head and looked at Marcus from across the table.
Marcus cleared his throat.
“It has been seven days now since the rioting broke out across Rome,” Marcus said, speaking in a calm but tired-sounding voice. “The security situation in the city is still volatile and fragile but it has been calm for the past few days Sir. We think we have managed to re-establish law and order. It is imperative however that the citywide curfew is maintained for a while longer and that our security forces remain out on the streets as a deterrent, and as reassurance.” Marcus sighed as he looked down at the table. “The initial disturbances were caused by the news that the Egyptian grain fleet, on which we rely for most of our grain, had been lost at sea; destroyed by a storm. People believed that they were going to starve Sir. The lawlessness spread rapidly throughout the city. The mob murdered the prefect of the night watch. That was the spark that started the looting. They then went on to besiege the fourth Cohort in their barracks. Law and order broke down completely which, gave the mob the opportunity to settle scores and rob, murder and rape their way across the city. No one and nothing was spared. Effective leadership broke down but Paulinus and I managed to regain control of the Forum by the end of the first day, using the remaining urban cohorts Sir.”
“Effective leadership broke down…” Similis interrupted sharply, as he stared at Marcus with a hard, unfriendly gaze.
Marcus looked up and met the urban prefect’s gaze.
“Most of the senate seem to have fled the city upon the outbreak of the rioting,” Marcus replied, “and with the death of the prefect of the night watch, there wa
s no one left in charge. The breakdown in command led to paralysis amongst the urban guard units Sir, but we sorted it out in the end.”
“I hope you are not suggesting that I am to blame for this disaster,” Similis snapped angrily, as he glared at Marcus from across the table.
“No Sir,” Marcus said hastily. “No one is to blame Sir. Paulinus and I have focussed our efforts on restoring order and planning what to do next. We imposed an all-day curfew, which we have now relaxed to allow women only to leave their homes, so that they can buy food for their families. The urban cohorts are in full control of all the city gates and are maintaining regular patrols across the city. They have been aided in this by groups of vigilantes, mostly army veterans who are keen to protect their homes, businesses and families. Paulinus organised them into district groups. We have also started looking for the ringleaders complicit in the murder of the prefect of the night watch. Once we catch them, they will be publicly executed in the Forum Sir. The city is calm Sir. We are getting back to normal.”
Across the table from Marcus, Similis looked unhappy.
“And what do you intend to do about the loss of the Egyptian grain fleet, prefect,” Similis snapped. “How are we going to feed Rome?”
Marcus glanced quickly at Paulinus, who was listening to the conversation with a stoical expression.
“I and my team have been putting a lot of effort into finding solutions to this problem,” Marcus replied as he turned his attention back to Similis. “The loss of the grain fleet is a disaster. But there are things we can do to mitigate the loss and I am confident that, if we adopt the plan that I have drafted, all shall come right in the end. Sir, if I may explain.”
Similis raised his hand with an irritable expression and silently gestured for Marcus to continue.
Hastily Marcus cleared his throat. “Sir,” he said, “I have taken an inventory of all our existing grain supplies held here in Rome. I have personally been to every granary around the city and know how much grain reserves we have at this moment. Based on the current estimated population size of Rome, I have calculated how much grain we will need to provide every person in the city with a basic weekly allowance for the next year. There is obviously a large shortage of grain, but there are just enough reserves to provide the city with a free bread dole, if we were to implement a strict system of government-controlled grain rationing. This would mean about ten loaves of bread per person per week. But this rationing system must be implemented right away. There can be no delay.”
Marcus paused as he tried to gage Similis’s reaction, but the urban prefect was keeping his thoughts tightly under wraps.
“The most practical way in which to set up this rationing scheme is to expand and build on the existing scheme of free grain-handouts,” Marcus continued. “In the army we are used to rationing. Rome is going to have to get used it to. Our first step is to take full control of all the granaries in the city and temporarily outlaw the private sale of grain and bread. Harsh penalties should be handed out to anyone who breaks these laws. We will then set up two public registration schemes. The current scheme for those poorer citizens, who already rely on free grain handouts, will remain unchanged but to this we shall add a second scheme for everyone else. Citizens will need to register with their local bakeries if they want to buy grain. I propose that we limit the purchase of grain to the father of a family who buys it for his whole family and does so just once a week. Each city bakery will then be provided with a fixed amount of grain from our granaries, depending on the number of people registered with them. Once citizens are registered, the bakeries will provide each head of household with coupons, small marked stones, similar to the ticketing system we use for the games in the Coliseum. Citizens will need to show their tickets to the bakeries before they can purchase one week’s worth ration of grain. Once they have purchased their ration their names are crossed of the list for that week. This way, the government will be able to control the price of grain but also the size of the rations, meaning we can react to changing circumstances. There would be no difference between rich or poor. Everyone will be rationed. This is important point to make.”
“And how will you guarantee that there will be no fraud on the part of the people,” Similis hissed. “How will you prevent them from registering with two of three bakers? How are we going to handle the registration of so many citizens? This has never been done before, not on this scale.”
“The registration shall be done by the bakeries with our help,” Marcus replied. “As for fraud and multiple registration. We have looked at this. It will be the responsibility of the bakeries to catch out fraudsters. We can also cross reference the lists. It is a threat to the system, I admit, and we shall probably have to rely on informers to catch the worst criminals. It’s not perfect but if we implement heavy punishments for those caught breaking the law it may dissuade some citizens whom are considering cheating the system.”
Similis grunted and Marcus could see that he did not look impressed. Clearing his throat Marcus continued.
“There can be no suggestion that the rich are eating all the poorer people’s bread. Security at the bakeries will be provided by squads of soldiers from the urban guard, who would be posted outside the bakeries to prevent trouble. Public rationing will be only limited to grain. There is no rationing when it comes to barley, vegetables, meat, wine and fish. These commodities shall continue to be freely available on the open market. We shall continuously monitor the price of these goods and if they rise by too much we shall take action to keep them affordable to the population.” Marcus paused. “In effect what I am saying,” he said continuing, “Is that only the free market in grain is going to be suspended. At least until the food emergency is over. We are not going to allow the city to starve.”
For a long moment Similis was silent, as he looked down at the table.
“Will it work?” the urban prefect snapped at last, as he looked up.
“The rationing scheme has never been tested on this scale before as far as I am aware,” Marcus said confidently. “But it will work. It is a tried and tested system in the army Sir.”
“And how long will this emergency last?” Similis growled.
“I believe it will be a year before things return to normal,” Marcus replied. “I have also looked at ways in which to increase our grain supplies. I have devised an incentive scheme for farmers in Italy, encouraging them to switch from ranching to wheat and grain production. The results will not however be known until the harvest time later in the year. I have also devised a similar scheme for fishermen and poultry holders. Finally, I have issued and sent orders to various provincial governors in Gaul and Hispania, demanding that they immediately despatch their excess grain supplies to Rome.” Marcus paused as he took a deep breath. “The governors may of course complain and try and block the order, but if they do they will have to explain their actions to the people of Rome, when they are next in the city.”
Marcus lent back in his chair and gazed across the table at Similis.
“Everything that can be done is being done Sir. To conclude, grain is going to be scarce in Rome throughout the coming year, but no one is going to starve, not if we handle the situation properly. I suggest that we make that public knowledge. If people know that they are all in this together and that everyone is being treated the same way, it should go some way to preventing any further unrest.”
“And how much is this all going to cost us? Will we have to raise taxes?” Similis snapped.
Marcus shot Paulinus a quick look. “Well,” he said carefully, “the cost is going to be considerable. Paulinus and I estimate it will cost the state between three and four million denarii before the crisis is over.”
“The state’s budget deficit is not where I would like it to be, but by moving things around and making certain cuts to other budgets, I have found a way in which we can afford the extra emergency spending without having to raise taxes,” Paulinus said turning to look at Similis.
“Good gods,” Similis muttered as his face went pale. “That’s the cost of maintaining two legions at full strength for a whole year.”
An awkward silence settled around the table. Slowly Similis turned to gaze at Marcus with a cold, unsympathetic look.
“I am the urban prefect,” Similis said at last in a grave voice. “It is my responsibility to maintain law and order in the city of Rome. I shall write to Trajan. The emperor is going to have to be informed about the riots and their consequences.” Similis paused and, as he stared at Marcus his face darkened. “But you are wrong Marcus. Someone is to blame for this disaster and it certainly isn’t me. I will be damned if I am going to take responsibility for this mess. I wasn’t here. No, this whole shit-storm is your fault Marcus. You are the prefect in charge of the grain supply and you have failed Rome. You were put in charge of managing Rome’s food supplies. You are responsible for this fucking disaster and I am going to make sure that Trajan knows it. Implement your rationing plan and get out of my sight. You are a disgrace.”
Rome and the Conquest of Mesopotamia (Book 8 of the Veteran of Rome Series) Page 8