“I see no reason to wait on this matter. Raise your hands if you vote in favour,” Ursus said and every man in the house raised his arm in affirmation. Domitius followed the lead of the house. There were times to stand up and be counted and this was not one of those times. He watched as Ursus turned and saluted Otho before leaving the chamber, flanked by two legionaries.
Otho stood before the house once more. “It is a fine thing we have done here. We have, once more, acted in the interests of Rome. We will protect her against all who come to destroy her. Whether they are traitors to the empire or creatures from Hades, we will stand strong. We will stand united.” He turned with a flurry of the cloak he wore over his ornate breast plate and armour. He left the chamber without another word and the senators were left wondering what had happened.
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That evening, as food was being served on the courtyard roof in the warm evening air, Domitius spoke to Vitus of the days events. The two had walked home from the senate house together but Domitius was weary about speaking openly in public. Since the siege Domitius had not travelled around the city without either Vitus or one of the two legionaries now in his employ. Vitus trusted them both and Domitius had found them both efficient and sharp witted. When out in public, Domitius treated Vitus like any other body guard. It was Vitus’ wish that his connection to Domitius be seen as professional only. In times like these it was difficult to know what relationships your enemies may try to take advantage of and it was always better to be safe, than sorry.
The two women, Flavia and Lucia, were containing themselves to the house unless absolutely necessary. If it was unavoidable that they must leave the house they went everywhere with Tatius and Gallus.
“It all felt like an attempt to push through unpopular legislation by hiding behind the members of the senate. They weren’t even subtle about it. Otho stood up and made a speech about how he thought evil might be lurking in the senate and then we voted on extra men on the walls,” Domitius said and took a bite of food. Garic had done well to keep the house in meat but the supply had run out. The docks and gates were firmly locked against civilian deliveries and Garic’s storeroom had finally emptied. This meal represented almost the last meat in the house.
“Why couldn’t they just commission more men anyway?” Vitus asked.
“I don’t know. I really don’t know. It’s not as if they will defend the walls with untrained men when the time to fight Titus comes. It seems the simplest thing to enlist new men to stand in the guard until then.” Domitius shook his head.
“So you think they wanted it to be public knowledge that the senate voted for this to happen?” Vitus asked and took a mouthful of dark red wine.
“It’s the only thing I can think of. Otho doesn’t need the senate's permission in normal circumstances and this is far from normal. He has already declared a state of emergency, so he has all the power he needs to act in any way he wishes.” Domitius continued, “This has to be a matter of appearances. What worries me is, just what is he planning that he is worried about how he appears to the people? This is the man who released the undead into the city and in the end the people loved him for saving them. Just what is he planning on doing that has him worried how they will react?”
The two men lapsed into a moment of silent contemplation. The evening was darkening into night and a chill was dropping over the warm day. Lamps were lit around the courtyard of the townhouse and insects danced in and out of the auras they cast.
Vitus looked around the roof at the friends and family gathered there. Lucia and Regulus sat off to one side and looked every bit the lovers they had become over the previous weeks.
Flavia cherished them both. She could not be prouder of Lucia if she were her own daughter. She had allowed the young love to flourish in her house. Partly, Vitus was sure, because the world was turning to Hades outside the city walls. Love at a time like this was all there was to cling to.
Vitus looked at them all and wondered how long it would be before they would have to attempt to leave Rome. War was coming and if the rumours were true, so was famine. Food stocks in the house were very good. On Regulus’ suggestion the house slaves had started buying more than the usual food orders from vendors. Not enough to cause suspicion but with care, they had managed to collect enough to live a couple of months if they were careful with their rations.
Vitus was beginning to wonder if they shouldn’t be making other plans. Routes of escape in various scenarios. If they needed to leave the city in a hurry, it was likely that they would all be in different places in the city. Plans would have to be drawn in order to make sure they had the best chance of escape.
He waited until everyone had finished eating before calling them all together. It was a difficult talk, with a lot of uncertainty. Vitus did not like scaring the rest of his party but it was the best way to make them understand the seriousness of what they faced. Between them they had only three men capable of real fighting. Domitius was willing but too old and Regulus was still very weak. Lucia had proven her bravery but was still a sixteen year old girl.
Cunning would have to carry them through if escape was needed and planning was essential. They made plans deep into the night and in the end, Vitus was happy with the decisions. He prayed to the Gods that they would never have to put any of it into action but in his secret heart, he knew that they already were.
Chapter Seven
Garic worked with a heavy heart. He carefully cleaned and wrapped each knife and cleaver as if it were a treasured family heirloom, which some of them were. He had taken over his father's family business during the reign of Nero and some of these blades had been in the stall on that day. Each mark on the blade and each line on the chopping blocks was a swing of his arm and a drop of his sweat but, for now, it was all over.
He looked at the oldest of his knives and examined the handle. The wood was darkened where, first his father's and then his own hand had held it. Sweat and animal blood had seeped into the grain and left two generations of his family ingrained in its history. He wrapped it in oil cloth and placed it in a crate with the rest of his tools.
He had attended his father's funeral and opened the stall for business the very next day. Not once, in all the time since, had he closed the stall. There had been the few days of the recent siege, where the Risen had run rampant in the city. Garic didn’t count those because the stall had remained intact, even after he had fled the creatures. Sure, he had closed at night but he had opened up again before the sun was up the following morning. Sometimes alone and sometimes with help like young Marcus. Garic still had no word of the boy, Gods protect him.
His father had been proud to say he had opened every day of the Great fire. Garic had been with him every day, an apprentice to the business at that point. In truth, the stall had opened for an hour each day and then closed but the principle had been there. Garic had stayed in business during the uncertain days of the year of the four Emperors. The streets had been tense places at that time but people still needed to eat and so he had been here.
Now, for the first time, he was packing up his tools and had no idea what tomorrow would bring. He had headed to the usual warehouse at the docks but most were closed. Those that weren’t, were only open long enough to collect outstanding debts from people who had been afforded credit. The supply lines from outside the city were closed. The river was open only to military traffic.
Garic had spent most of the day heading from one storehouse to the next, in increasingly desperate search of stock. By the middle of the afternoon he had given up hope and returned to the stall to close it down.
It wasn’t a surprise but it was devastating none the less. The rumours had been floating around for weeks. Some of his fellow butchers had been buying extra stock but in the end, it would only keep them open for a day or two longer than him. Garic had stored away a number of joints for his family, of course. He
would be okay for a few weeks yet.
It wasn’t the fear of hunger that upset him though, it was the loss of normality. His routine was one of watching the city go about its day. Wives feeding their husbands and children. Hungry workers buying food from other stalls on the market. Trinket sellers providing tokens for young lovers. The heart of the city beat in markets like this one and now that heart was being squeezed until it stopped.
Garic hefted his box of knives and tools one last time and began a journey home that seemed longer than it ever had before. He watched the city continue its life around him. How quickly it had recovered from the invasion by the undead. No sooner had the monsters been driven from the streets than those streets had filled with people once more. They passed him unaware that he would not be there for them tomorrow. He could hope that one or two of them would miss him. Maybe a few would wonder where he was but in the end, they would think of him no more than they thought about the Risen after they were gone. The big city had no real memory, it lived for now. Yesterday was gone and tomorrow may never come.
Garic stopped to hear the news from a crier. The large man stood atop a stone plinth and waited for a small crowd to gather. Then with much drama and waving of his hands, he read the news of the day.
“People of Rome. The traitor Titus Flavius Vespasianus remains at large in the empire. All people who are able to do him harm are bound by law and honour to do so. The first games of the new arena will begin tomorrow. Gladiators, animals from exotic corners of the empire and other spectacles will be paraded for your amusement. Finally, the Senate has passed a new law commissioning new men to protect the walls, buildings and people of Rome against all invaders, alive or undead.”
At the final words the small gathering around the speaker let out a low cheer. Anything that meant the Senate was working toward keeping them safe was welcome news. Garic shouldered his belongings and left the square with a lighter heart.
A familiar voice behind him made Garic stop and turn around. “Garic!” the young voice called. Chin Lee, the doctor's grandson, ran toward the butcher with a grin on his face.
“Garic. It’s good to see you. You closed early today. Everything okay?” the boy asked as he fell in step with the large man.
“It’s a sad day, Lee. I have closed the stall for good. I am a man of leisure,” Garic said, trying to sound light-hearted about the affair.
Lee shrugged and continued to smile. Such news was unimportant to the young, as it should be. “Can I carry your box for you?” Lee asked.
“I think it may be a little too heavy for you but thank you,” Garic said.
“Heavy? For me?” Lee looked insulted. “I’ve been working really hard to build my arm muscles up. I want to be a strong fighter like Vitus.” Lee rolled up the sleeve of his tunic and flexed his arm to show the butcher the barely discernible bicep beneath. He looked up at Garic proudly.
“Wow!” Garic exclaimed. “I had no idea I was in the presence of Hercules himself. Please forgive me for doubting you.” He held out the wooden crate to the boy with a flourish.
Lee smiled broadly and took the box. It was far too wide for his arms to carry easily but Garic was impressed by how little the boy allowed his discomfort to show on his face.
“So, young Lee, what has you out and about this afternoon? It can’t be to come looking for an old man like me,” Garic asked.
“I just finished running errands for my mother and she gave me a coin to spend. I was heading into the market when I saw you.” Lee smiled.
“How is your mother? I haven’t seen her since we all left the house of Domitius.” He didn’t add “after the Risen” because he didn’t need or wish to .
“I can never tell if she is happy or not. She likes telling me off a lot but she does that however she feels. She is always finding ways of talking about Vitus. She sends me on errands to the house and asks about him after I get back. I think she may be in love.” Lee laughed at his own words but Garic saw in the boy's eyes that he was being truthful.
“Don’t go making her uncomfortable about it if she is young Lee. She is your mother, after all, and you owe her respect.” Lee looked a little hurt and Garic wished for second he could take the words back but the boy recovered soon enough.
“I’m always respectful of my mother, Garic. I love her more than anyone in the world. If anyone were to hurt her, I would get myself a knife and get my revenge.” A steel look found its way into his eye and Garic fought hard not to laugh at the seriousness in one so young.
“You! Stop!” a voice shouted behind them. Garic didn’t react at first. Shouts like this were so commonplace in a big city like Rome, that a man could get a bad neck turning to every shout and cry. No doubt someone had lost a coin or two to a cutpurse or had a piece of fruit whipped from a stall.
“I said stop!” the voice sounded again only closer this time. Garic felt a sinking feeling in his stomach as he turned to face two Praetorian guards. As Garic had been walking, a cart had drawn up next to him and the two men seemed to have jumped down from the back. The cart was a covered wooden box with barred windows half way along. Garic saw the shadows of two faces staring out at him.
“What’s your name?” one of the legionaries asked him, leaning in close enough that Garic smelled his breath.
“I beg your pardon?” replied Garic and he slowly pushed Lee behind him with one hand. He felt the boy take a step backwards.
“You heard the question. What’s your name, man?” The legionary loomed over him.
“Garic,” he managed to say it without stuttering but the urge to shake with fear was becoming overwhelming. The two armoured guards were beyond intimidating and they knew it. They weren’t giving him a second to catch his thoughts.
“What do you do, Garic?” the lead soldier asked.
“I’m a butcher. Why?”
“Used to swinging a knife then I guess.” It wasn’t a question. “Get in the cart, Garic. You just joined the reserves.” The second man motioned toward the back of the cart, where a barred door stood slightly back from a stepped platform.
“What? No! I can’t. I have a family at home!” Garic felt panic rising in him and found himself blurting the words out.
“I’m sure they will be fine. Rome needs fresh men like you and the new law says you are coming with us. Or maybe the arena sounds more to your liking?”
Garic could sense, rather than see, a sizable crowd gathering around him and was dismayed when he heard Lee shout, “You can’t do this!”
Garic found his voice and half turned to the boy. “No, Lee. Run to your mother.” He wanted to grab the boy and push him away but the legionaries turned their attention to Lee before he could.
“What do we have here? A little hero? Do you want to join your friend on the wall?” the lead guard asked over Garic’s shoulder.
“I could. I’m a good fighter. You want to try me?” Lee asked and a nervous laugh went up from the crowd around Garic.
The legionary shot a hand forward to grab at Lee but the ten year old's reflexes were far to fast for the armoured man. The young boy twisted away and turned to run from the crowd. He would have made a clean get away but there are always people in any crowd who want the entertainment to go on as long as possible. A hand grabbed the back of Lee’s tunic and the boy found himself thrown back toward the guard.
The legionary caught the boy in one hand and without saying a word, punched him hard in the side of the head. There was a gasp from the crowd, Garic even heard a woman let out a small scream. Lee went limp in his grasp for a moment before he tried to raise his head with a groan.
“Not so tough now are you, little shit?” the legionary spat at him.
Garic stared open mouthed at the brutality he had just seen. He was about to say something and probably earn himself a punch of his own when Lee spoke up again.
“My mum could punch harder than you. Big girl.” He even lifted his chin for the big man to hit him again. Part of the crowd laughed
while the other half cheered the boy's bravery. A man’s voice from the back of the crowd shouted, “Leave him alone, he's just a kid.”
The guard pulled his arm back to swing again but Garic shouted for him to stop, “Wait! Wait, I’ll go with you, just stop hitting him.” The legionary turned to look at him and seem to forget about Lee, who he allowed to squirm out of him grasp. The boy slipped to the floor and looked very small amongst the feet of the crowd.
“Get in the cart,” the guard said to Garic through gritted teeth. He pulled Garic by the arm and opened the door on the cart before pushing him through into the heat and smell of fear. Garic found his feet and rushed to the barred window. Lee was raising himself to his feet, looking dazed and shaken but defiant. The two legionaries were manhandling two more men from the street into the cart. They both shouted with pain and surprise as the door opened and they were thrown inside.
Garic called out to Lee, “Lee go to the house of Domitius. Tell them what has happened. Make sure my family is looked after.” The cart began to pull away and Garic saw the boy shout to him but the words were lost in the noise of the hard iron rimmed wheels on the street. Garic shouted one more thing before Lee was lost to sight. “Thank you. You are the bravest boy I’ve ever met.”
Garic sat back onto a bench that ran the length of the cart. He looked at the other men who shared his fate. There were seven men, all looked as despondent and lost as he felt. A dark skinned man in the back corner nodded to him as their eyes met but nobody spoke. Outside the door, standing on the small platform the two legionaries clung to handles, ready to jump off and pick up more prisoners for whatever fate awaited them.
It seemed like hours that the cart trundled around the city. It stopped every so often and the two guards jumped from their posts to apprehend an unsuspecting man as he went about his day. In a couple of cases, fights broke out that the two soldiers ended swiftly and violently. Each fight ended with a bruised, and in one case bloody, man being thrown into the cart. The space in the back began to feel crowded and then claustrophobic, as the afternoon wore on. Eventually, as Garic was beginning to feel he could take no more, he saw through the window that the cart was pulling into a brick-walled courtyard. The doors were opened and the men in the cart spilled out to be greeted by a number of armoured legionaries.
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