***
It was getting late as Marcus slowly made his way up the Janiculum hill towards his home. He looked dog tired but satisfied. Similis had given the go-ahead for his plan and that was good news. The rationing scheme would work. It had to work. The rest of the meeting had just been politics, dirty, unfair, scandalous unimportant politics for which he did not care. He would focus on his job. He had a duty to fulfil. The important thing, the only thing that truly mattered was that he was getting on with his job. That’s what he was supposed to do. Ensuring the welfare and survival of real people like that young woman who’d been raped, was far more important than pandering to the weasel who’d had been left in charge of Rome. Marcus realised that he should have been furious and upset after having Similis blame him personally for the disaster at sea. But the truth was that he just couldn’t give a shit.
Kyna met him just outside the door to his villa and without saying a word, flung her arms around her husband and did not let go for a long moment. When she finally did, she looked calmer.
“Look at the state of you,” she muttered, as he led her into the house with the silent Indus following close behind. “I am so glad to have you back Marcus,” Kyna said, as Marcus collapsed onto the couch. “I heard you have been holed up in the temple of Saturn. They say the city is calmer now. They say that the rioting is over. This is good news. Welcome news.”
And as she gazed at her husband a fond look slowly appeared on Kyna’s face.
“Rome owes you husband,” she said with a hint of sudden pride. “They owe you for what you have done. I am going to make sure that the city knows it and remembers.”
He nodded and smiled as he looked up at her.
“Have you heard from Elsa and Cassius?” he exclaimed wearily.
“They are both safe,” Kyna nodded quickly. “Cassius followed your advice and barricaded himself into his home. They had a few tense moments, but they are all right.” Kyna paused, as she examined Marcus. Then she sighed. “I have heard from Ahern too. He told me all about his adventures crossing the city. Why did you decide to take him? You put him in danger Marcus. The boy is only seventeen. He could have been killed.”
“Ahern needs to pick a side,” Marcus growled. “He has to choose whose side he is on. For too long that boy has enjoyed a pampered, expensive upbringing. It’s time he grew up. It’s time he learned who his family and real friends are and what the world is really like. He is either with us or against us.”
Slowly Kyna shook her head as she folded her arms across her chest. Then she looked away.
“That steam machine of his,” she said at last. “You know the one he has spent a year building. The machine he was hoping to demonstrate to the senate. Well it’s gone. The mob destroyed it during the riots. There is nothing left. I spoke to Ahern. He blames you. He says that because you forced him to go with you, he was not there to protect his machine. It’s not your fault, I know Marcus, but he is distraught.” Kyna sighed. “He doesn’t know whether he will build another machine and he says that he is going to make you pay for what you have done to him. Claudia has heard him muttering about taking revenge.”
“Good,” Marcus snapped, as he reached for a jug of wine. “Then the boy has chosen the side he wants to be on.”
Chapter Ten – The Man Feared by the Gods
March 115 AD
It was noon and the sun had come out, bathing the city in warm, bright light. On the pons Fabricius, the bridge was filled with traffic. Wagons, horsemen, ox-drawn carts and pedestrians were crossing in both directions and here and there an enclosed litter, carried by a troop of slaves was moving across the bridge. Street hawkers, loudly pitching the delights of their wares and services, stood along the edge of the walkways, trying to catch punters attention. And over it all, the putrid stench of the metropolis hung thickly in the breezeless air. Out on the greenish waters of the Tiber, in the dazzling, twinkling sunlight, the river barges, stacked high with commodities, were moving up and down on their regular journeys from Portus to Rome and back. Marcus, accompanied by Cassius and Indus, pushed their way across the bridge in the direction of the city walls. Several weeks had passed since the riots and the city had returned to normal, or so it seemed. But Marcus looked unhappy. The debris and destruction wrought by the looting and rioting may have been largely cleared up but, if he looked carefully enough, he could still see traces of the bad times. They were etched into doorways and walls and stained into paving stones. There were many grim black clothed women in mourning, who were sitting out in front of their homes. And now the senate had joined the witch hunt, searching for someone to blame, Marcus thought grimly. Its members had finally had the courage to return to Rome and had launched an inquiry into the riots, summoning him and Paulinus to appear before them to give evidence. Those pompous arses in the senate had appointed themselves onto a committee of inquiry. Marcus’s face darkened. This was going to be a shit day. He could sense it.
Cassius, struggling to stay level with him amongst the throng of the crowds, was talking in his quick-fire voice, briefing him on the latest developments and seemed oblivious to Marcus’s mood. Sourly Marcus turned to glance across the river as he listened to his secretary. Descending the steep rocky slopes of the Janiculum and crossing the Tiber in the direction of the Aventine hill, were the magnificent, high stone arches of the Aqua Traiana, Trajan’s brand-new aqueduct, which gleamed in the sunlight. And arrayed alongside the aqueduct on the slopes of the Janiculum, the state-owned complex of sixteen, wooden water mills, used to crush grain into flour, were working flat out, their ingenious wheels turned by the force of the water flowing down the aqueduct.
“There is a final piece of news, Sir,” Cassius said hastily, as Marcus strode on towards the gates leading into the city. “Attianus has returned from Syria. He arrived a few days ago by ship. It’s likely that he will be here today during the senate hearing.” Cassius gulped in some air, as he hurried along at Marcus’s side. “You should be careful with Attianus Sir,” Cassius continued. “He wields a lot of power and he hates the War Party. He is Hadrian’s right-hand man, his enforcer. A real hard nut. Doesn’t tolerate fools and has made a lot of enemies.” Cassius chuckled to himself. “It’s said that even the gods fear him.”
“I know who Attianus is,” Marcus growled, as his eyes swept over the squad of urban guards on duty outside the gates. “He carries a death list around with him of people who he is going to have executed, if Hadrian becomes the next emperor, and I am one of the names on his list.”
“Holy shit,” Cassius swore, as a little colour shot into his cheeks and he turned to gaze at Marcus in horror. “How do you know this?” he gasped as the three of them swept on through the gates and into the city.
“Let’s just say that I know,” Marcus said, as he glanced at the shops doing business along the side of the street. “The man is a prick.”
“A death list,” Cassius exclaimed. “He keeps a death list.”
“Do you want me to ask him if you are on his list?” Marcus growled.
Cassius’s blush deepened and for a long moment he was speechless. Then he pulled himself together.
“The point Sir, that I am trying to make,” Cassius said, “Is that the arrival of Attianus in Rome has prompted Nigrinus to leave his estate at Faventia. Nigrinus is here in Rome. He wants to speak to you before the senate hearing. He is going to meet us at the senate house. I honestly don’t know what he wants to talk to you about.”
Marcus stopped abruptly in mid-stride, so abruptly that Indus who was following on behind, nearly crashed into him.
“Nigrinus is in Rome,” Marcus said frowning. “I see you are well informed as always but why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”
“The message came late yesterday evening Sir,” Cassius stammered. “You were busy. I thought it could wait until this morning.”
Carefully Marcus studied his secretary face. Then, without saying a word, he turned and started out again in the directio
n of the Forum.
“Is there anything else that I should know,” Marcus cried out at last in an annoyed voice. “Are you withholding anything else from me Cassius?”
“No Sir,” Cassius stammered. “Nothing business related. The only other thing is that Elsa has told me, to tell you, to be careful Sir. She has been to see this fortune teller who says that you are in danger. Personally, I don’t believe in all that crap, but Elsa does. She worries about your safety. She says you should have left Rome when you had the chance.”
***
The Curia Julia - the senate house stood in the Forum, within sacred and ancient boundaries of the Comitium and in the shadow of the Capitoline hill. The tall brick and concrete building was decorated with slabs of marble and the whole place looked rather drab. Nigrinus was waiting on the broad steps leading up to the bronze doors. The faction leader of the War Party was dressed in his white senatorial toga and was accompanied by a single slave. As he stood waiting a constant stream of grave looking senators were filing passed him into the senate house. Marcus nodded a polite greeting, as he strode up to his political boss. Nigrinus looked tense as he returned the greeting.
“It’s good to see you Sir,” Marcus began. “I was told that you had returned to Rome. Rest assured that I have matters under control.”
“I do hope so,” Nigrinus snapped, glaring at Marcus. “I do hope that my trust in you has not been misplaced. There is a lot of political capital invested in your position. Do not forget that. The party is counting on you to defend its interests.”
“I understand,” Marcus nodded gravely. “I shall do my best Sir.”
“Listen,” Nigrinus said sharply, as he took a step towards Marcus and glanced around him to see that no one was listening in. “Attianus, Hadrian’s right-hand man has recently arrived in Rome from Syria,” Nigrinus said in a low, urgent voice. “He will be here in the senate today. Now the official reason for Attianus to be here in Rome is to look after Hadrian’s property portfolio and business interests, but the real reason is to seek vengeance on us for the failed assassination attempt on Hadrian’s life eighteen months ago. He blames us for the attack. He is out for revenge.”
Marcus nodded again but said nothing as Nigrinus reached out and grasped hold of Marcus’s arm, holding it in a tight grip.
“So be careful,” Nigrinus hissed. “Don’t let that arsehole manoeuvre us into a corner today at the hearings. The party must not be tarnished by these riots. Lie if you must, but under no circumstances are we to accept blame for this mess. The people of Rome are fickle. They can be swayed. But we will need their support when the time comes.” Nigrinus paused and glared at Marcus. “Attianus may be a dangerous man but remember, so am I.”
***
Marcus sat stiffly on the front bench and gazed at Paulinus, as the finance minister started to wrap up his testimony on the riots. Paulinus, holding the folds of his white toga in a statesman-like pose looked comfortable and at ease, as he stood alone in the open space that separated the benches on both sides of the house. And, as he gazed at his friend, Marcus felt a sudden flutter of nerves. Hastily he turned to look at the rows of benches that faced each other across the open central floor. The senate house was packed with over three hundred grave and serious looking toga clad senators and, apart from Paulinus’s voice, the great hall was completely silent. For a moment Marcus stared absentmindedly at the benches. The senate no longer had the power or significance it had once held during the days of the Republic, but it was still an important body, a key adviser to the emperor. A wise emperor, Paulinus had told him once, did not ignore the senate, for it was the place from which rivals to the imperial power could come. And here he was, Marcus thought, the illegitimate son of a Roman legionary about to address the great and good, the lords and masters of Rome for the very first time. What would Corbulo, his father, have made of this? What indeed would Corbulo have made of it all?
Nervously Marcus’s gaze swept across the magnificent, colourful and finely patterned floor towards the altar of Victory that stood at the far end of the hall. A statue of Victory stood on a globe, extending a wreath and, as he stared at the ancient altar, the eyes of the statue suddenly seemed to gleam in the light and wink at him.
Slowly Marcus turned to look at Nigrinus. His faction leader was sitting further along on the front bench, surrounded by his closest supporters and the most senior members of the War Party. As he sat listening to Paulinus, Marcus could see that Nigrinus’s face was a stoic mask, behind which he was concealing his real thoughts. And sitting directly opposite and staring straight back at Nigrinus, were the massed-ranks of the supporters of Hadrian and the Peace Party, easily distinguishable by their beards. The War and Peace parties were however, not the only factions in the senate. There were other, smaller, less-influential interest groups. Factions, groups and individuals that wanted to bring in full-scale Athenian democracy, abolish slavery, restore the Republic, expel all foreigners from Rome or allow women to become senators. These fringe groups however, had very little support and were not taken seriously by anyone apart from themselves. But that did not stop Ahern and Cassius from being interested in them, Marcus thought sourly. But they were still young and impressionable. They would grow out of it. Steeling himself, Marcus hastily turned his attention back to Paulinus. The finance minister had finished his testimony and was returning to his seat and, as he did so Similis rose to his feet and called out Marcus’s name.
Standing alone in the middle of the senate house and without notes, Marcus paused as he turned to gaze at the benches filled with his fellow senators. The grand hall remained completely silent as the masters of Rome waited for him to speak.
“My lords,” Marcus began, raising his voice. “I am the prefect in charge of the grain supply for the city of Rome. Our great city. It is my duty and responsibility to make sure that the Annona is properly managed. That the city has enough bread to eat. And - rest assured that I take this duty very seriously. I will not repeat what my colleague Paulinus has just talked about, but I will give you an update on the grain supply. The situation is critical but not hopeless. Once the riots were put down and the city brought under control, I implemented a city-wide system of grain rationing as I am sure you are all now familiar with.” Marcus paused and slowly turned to face the other side of the house. “I am pleased to confirm that the system is working. The populace has responded to the emergency by registering with the bakeries in great numbers. Our fishing fleets and farmers have promised to raise their production. There has been only minimal trouble with the registration and rationing process. There are some issues with fraud, but I am working with the state treasury and the urban cohorts to stamp this out. My lords, the good news is that the people of Rome have accepted the rations of grain they are provided with. They have accepted the suspension of the free-market in grain and they have accepted that the rationing will probably continue for another year. This is welcome. In addition, I am pleased to announce to you today, that I have just received word from the provincial governors of Gallia Lugdunensis, Gallia Aquitania and Hispania Tarraconensis. They will be sending us their grain reserves, shipments of which should start to arrive within a month. And I hope to have further good news soon.”
As he finished speaking, silence descended once more upon the great hall.
“No, No, No,” a deep voice suddenly boomed out. Amongst the ranks of the Peace Party supporters, an old and grave-looking senator had risen to his feet and was pointing an accusing finger straight at Marcus.
“No, there is no good news prefect. Do not try to fool us. Let’s not forget what led to this crisis - sheer incompetence,” Attianus bellowed. “The recent food riots in Rome are a disgrace, a stain on the reputation of the Emperor, a calamity for which you as prefect of the grain supply and a member of the War Party are solely responsible. Shame on you. Shame on you Nigrinus for allowing this to happen. The War Party have once again proved,” Attianus roared, “that they are not fit to manage t
he affairs of Rome. Similis,” Attianus snarled turning to glare at the urban prefect as he continued to point a finger at Marcus - “I ask you here, before us all, to sack this incompetent man. He has proved unworthy of the great office for which he is responsible. Sack him! Sack him now.”
Attanius’s cry was swiftly followed by loud cries of support from Hadrian’s supporters and equally loud protests from the War Party. A little colour shot into Marcus’s cheeks, but he stood his ground, gazing back at Attianus in silence. On his bench Similis seemed to shrink back into the wood and, for a long moment the urban prefect seemed unable to give a reply and as he stalled, the house descended into uproar. Gazing coolly at Attianus, Marcus suddenly understood the source of Similis’s discomfort. Although a supporter of Hadrian, Similis could not sack him for he had been bribed. He had taken Nigrinus’s money when he had agreed to appoint Marcus to his position. If Similis were to agree to sack him, he would be agreeing to his own downfall as well.
Across the open floor that separated the rows of benches Marcus was suddenly conscious of Attianus’s cunning eyes gazing at him with sudden glee. The man was still pointing his crooked finger accusingly at Marcus.
“For if this man is not sacked,” Attianus bellowed, his voice rising above the uproar. “There can be no respect. No legitimate support for any member of the War Party. There can only be contempt for their incompetence.”
Rome and the Conquest of Mesopotamia (Book 8 of the Veteran of Rome Series) Page 9