Our Eternal Curse I

by Simon Rumney

  Sulla loved the psychological control his eagles gave him and despite his sacred oath to defend democracy he considered them his personal instruments of war. He had employed them to turn the course of so many battles and their value could not be overstated. Thousands of his men had died following these inanimate pieces of metal into impossible situations and their shaman-like power had snatched victory from the jaws of defeat on so many occasions. It was refreshing to know that he alone controlled the influence they held over the faltering Republic’s greatest war machine, these soldiers would defend him and his eagles or die to a man and the power he held over Rome was intoxicating.

  Sulla found it impossible to wipe the smile from his face as he pondered how far he could take his megalomaniacal desires. Even the old slave who in the time-honored tradition stood in the chariot behind him repeating, “Remember you are but a man not a God,” could not dampen his elation. Like a child who could no longer contain himself Sulla laughed and shouted into the cacophony, “How many of you are going to die in support of my Italian war?” and the black charioteer looked quizzically at his general for clarification of the order. Smiling broadly Sulla slapped his trusted servant on the back and indicated that his words were not intended to inspire any kind of action so the driver returned his attention to the panting horses. The modest slave may have heard Sulla’s indiscreet outburst but the former could be put to death at the end of the parade anyway so Sulla turned to give his crowd an even broader smile and laughed at the gullibility of his sheep as they raised a spontaneous cheer.

  This was the first day of his victory procession and the population of Rome had come out in force to join in the party which filled the city. Sulla was pleasantly surprised to see that the mood of the people had changed from tolerance to anger during his three-year absence and the force of this transformation could be heard in the voices of the multitude lining the streets. They shouted the expected messages of love and support for him but between the positive words were also unexpected messages of hate for the Italian tribes. Every man, women and child seemed to be howling for a local war and they clearly wanted their hero Sulla to win it for them.

  “You have beaten these fools from the East!” shouted one man.

  “When are you going to teach the ungrateful Italians the same lesson?” shouted another, sparking spontaneous cries of support from the mob and Sulla marveled at the effectiveness of the plan he had so impulsively put in place just hours before his departure three years earlier.

  He had been reading the Senatorial reports and knew that relations between the Italian tribes and Rome were building to a critical stage. He also knew that Romans could no longer travel outside Rome for fear of attack and no one dared journey without a military escort. What he had not known however was the extent to which the Roman population had swallowed his lies. Sulla had expected the stories of terrible massacres to provoke fear. He had assumed that the almost weekly atrocities would lead to a desire for peace and he had been preparing to push the Senate into a war against the people’s will but this public outpouring of hatred told him that Rome actually believed the tribes to be weak and they were ready to fight.

  It was a far better situation than he could ever have hoped for and he was going to enjoy molding this naive public opinion to suit his ends. Sulla was going to subdue those insolent tribes and get rich in the process but that was a matter for another day; now it was time to enjoy the spectacle before him, Sulla was the name on everyone’s lips and that made him smile as he waved at his adoring followers in an even more spectacular fashion.

  Following immediately behind Sulla came the lumbering treasure wagons which crunched along the cobbles under the sheer weight of their load. The sight of so much affluence overwhelmed the crowd and inspired them to cheer with all their hearts as each vehicle passed. Even though they were sturdy supply wagons they strained under the mass of gold and silver ingots until the inevitable mechanical failure happened. It was the front wheel on the creaking wagon nearest Sulla which gave up first and as it collapsed gold, silver and precious jewels spewed everywhere.

  Combined with the noise of the terrible crash were the agonizing cries of a man who was nearly cut in half by the falling wheel. He was one of the many slaves employed to pick up horse droppings who just happened to be in the wrong place when the accident happened. His cries incited the crowd to cheer even harder as the procession ground to a halt and Sulla tried to hide his rage.

  After a few brisk words to his driver Sulla turned to entertain his audience while repairs were being made. The huge black charioteer dismounted, spoke to the centurion who commanded Sulla’s personal bodyguard, then walked over to the distraught slave and effortlessly cut the helpless man’s throat. The sight of blood simultaneously leaving so many parts of his body sent the spectators in to screams of approval. Sulla was always good under pressure and he continued to distract the crowd with his antics while his bodyguard positioned themselves to prevent the mob from helping themselves.

  The booty in the wagon was intended for the city treasury and his act of protection appeared to be motivated by civic responsibility but nothing could be further from the truth. Tradition dictated that everyone involved in a Roman war received a bonus from the spoils and a major part of the valuables being gathered up by the dung slaves was earmarked for him. Sulla’s legionaries who now worked to fix the wagon would also be given a small share to fund the parcel of land they were given by the state. Officers received a larger amount in accordance with their rank but the lion’s share went to the head of the army. Sulla was now a much richer man and he had no intention of letting the mob steal even a single denarius of his hard-earned spoils.

  The rebellious kings who followed the treasure wagons were clearly relieved when the procession resumed its progress because the delay had inspired the crowd to pelt them with anything they could find including the horse droppings from all of the slave’s buckets. These once dignified potentates had brought disaster upon themselves by revolting against Rome and they were clearly regretting their foolish actions. They had been allowed to dress in their full state regalia but their bleeding wrists were bound by chains whilst a broken spear held their bent elbows behind their stooped backs. They were being made to walk in shame prior to their painful execution later in the day and to make matters worse they were now covered from head to toe in shit. No other race of people could humiliate quite like the Romans and these broken men were no longer eastern rulers but mere examples being made for the benefit of other puppet Kings throughout the Republic.

  Passing along the Forum Romanum Sulla turned to acknowledge the Senators standing on the white marble steps and lifted a clenched fist to his breastplate in salute. As he surveyed the men who hated his popularity Sulla became shocked by the sight of Gaius Marius standing awkwardly with the help of a young boy. He had read reports of the stroke which damaged his old adversary but what he saw astounded him, the infirmity had robbed him of half his face and body. Sulla instantly grasped the meaning of this opportunity. He realized that this was his moment, until now he had languished in the shadow of the so-called “Father of Rome” always the second-in-command to the great Gaius Marius but now he was old, crippled and slowed by time.

  Clearly trying to maintain both his balance and his immense dignitas Marius was obviously very weak and Sulla knew him well enough to know that inwardly he would be cursing his broken body. He was ready to be superseded as the first man in Rome and Sulla was more than willing to take his place.

  Returning his stare Sulla dipped his head almost imperceptibly as he passed. The crowd continued to cheer because to everyone else the gloat was quite undetectable but Marius would understand the meaning of his feigned respect. Marius had been a lion once, a fighting man, one of the best leaders Rome ever produced but now he was as a broken down old fool who could no longer wield his power and wealth.

  The men of the Senate watched Sulla pass and worried about the power he wielded over both the
army and the people. They hated leaving so much military might in one man’s hands because Rome was a democratic Republic which killed its last king nearly five hundred years before for abusing power. The system of electing two new consuls every year stopped ambitious men like Sulla from climbing to the top but his popularity was becoming a threat to their order. A way would usually be found to prevent one man from controlling so much authority but Rome needed Sulla and his army for the impending war with the Italian tribes so for a while at least, they had to compromise.

  It took two full days for the triumph to pass through Rome and the Senators stood respectfully in the hot sun throughout. There were several marching bands in bright uniforms interspersed by huge floats depicting victorious moments from Sulla’s conquests. Actors with exaggerated makeup portrayed scenes of the great General defeating the Kings who had walked in shame. The people watched in fascination as hundreds of exotic animals snarled their way through the center of Rome the dangerous ones in cages and the passive ones tethered to the wagons or led by slaves. All were destined to meet a bizarre death in the Circus Maximus and as is always the case in Rome their end would be witnessed by a frantically cheering mob.

  Towards the end of the march past came thousands of shackled men, women and children many of them carrying babies some as black as coal. The citizens of Rome had no sympathy for these sad people who were destined to toil as slaves in homes, farms or mines because folk like them were the very thing which allowed Roman society to function. Apart from the lucky few who would meet a dignified death as gladiators most of them were destined to die as beasts of burden over many sad and painful years of service. Collectively they would fetch millions of sesterces at the slave markets and much of that money would go to Sulla and as he thought about it he could hardly wipe the smile from his face.

  War

  One month passed and the memory of the homecoming parade was fading from the people’s minds. Sulla attended the Senate every day listening intently to the debates about war with the Italian tribes, a few Senators were on the side of peace but the majority were arrogant men who believed in the supreme power of Rome above all else and they shouted for war.

  Marius was also in the Senate each day with half of his face drooping and his body supported by an unknown young aristocratic boy by the name of Julius Caesar. An advocate of peace on this occasion Marius was trying to convince his fellow Senators not to enter a war with the rest of Italy. He spoke constantly about the benefits of reform. “Let them have Roman citizenship it will make us stronger in the long term,” was his argument but a majority of the highborn men were deaf to his pleadings.

  The pompous Senators were convinced that the primitive Italians could not match the discipline and might of Rome. Sulla himself had told them that the tribes were factional, unable to organize or even agree on anything. It was Sulla who met with the tribes three years earlier and the Senate had great faith in his report.

  Frustrated by what he heard Marius told them, “War was an obvious mistake.’ He believed that Italians were exactly the same as Romans and he said so in the Senate. “We can’t expect them to keep paying our taxes and sending their young men to fight in our armies without giving them citizenship in return!”

  “How dare you compare dignified Romans with Italian riffraff!” shouted his opposition like the self-important men they were.

  “Many of my own armies were made up of Italian conscripts and they were excellent soldiers!” bellowed Marius. “Sulla’s belief that the Italian tribes cannot organize themselves for lack of great leadership is simply wrong. I trained them I know how capable they are.” Then pausing in consideration Marius measured his next words against the consequences of their meaning, “Sulla was my second-in-command for many years and he knows it too!”

  The house erupted at the implication. “You are jealous of Sulla!” they shouted. “You have a vendetta against him! What could he possible stand to gain?” cried others.

  The curious thing was Marius did not understand Sulla’s motive. He had not been able to ask him why he deliberately misled the consuls after his now infamous parley with the Marsi because he departed for war in the East on the very same day. When he returned after three years Sulla would not meet with him and when questioned in the Senate he categorically denied any wrongdoing. Marius knew he was lying but could simply offer no proof.

  Clearly frustrated with the state of affairs, his own decrepit condition and Sulla’s connivances Marius shouted, “You are all behaving like sheep! You are being led headlong into a war that we are ill prepared for!’

  The Senators burst into floods of laughter and guffaws when he added, “Sulla has lied to the Senate about the strength of the tribes and mark my words well, sooner or later you will come running to me for help!”

  Sulla laughed along with the others, he had won, the Senators wanted war, there was nothing Marius could do to stop it and when the Senate sent word to the Italians that they had been denied citizenship on the grounds of inferiority, an alliance of tribes led by the Marsi declared war. With great bravado the Senators fell about laughing and joked about the stupidity of such a disorganized rabble provoking the power of Rome.

  When the Marsic war eventually started it created celebration in Rome. Armies marched through the streets outside the city walls with drums beating and great circular trumpets sounding. The people waved and cheered because they had absolute confidence in the information coming from the Senate. This war would be well and truly over in six months and Rome would soon put an end to the atrocities being leveled upon expatriated Romans.

  Marius insisted that he be placed in charge of the army but as with his warnings all his demands were ignored. Laughing at Marius was now a common pastime in the Senate and the place fairly broke up when he told them he intended to raise and fund his own army.

  “The old man must be mad,” they teased. “Save your money for retirement our legions will crush the ‘ities’ like insects,” shouted laughing Senators across the floor of the house and Marius could do nothing but prepare for the carnage that he knew was about to be unleashed by their rank stupidity.

  Disaster

  News of the first battle sent a shockwave through Rome which was felt by everyone of its disbelieving populace. The army of Gaius Perperna had been defeated in a rocky gorge on the Via Valeria, a busy road that stretched east from Rome to the seaport of Aternum. Four thousand Roman soldiers were killed and six thousand ran away shamefully discarding their swords, helmets and armor as they went. As always in the Roman army decimation followed shame. Each ten men drew lots. The loser was then beaten to death by the nine who were closer than his brothers, thus six hundred more legionaries followed the four thousand to their graves.

  “Just very bad luck,” said the Senators to the worried people who stood outside the Senate building. “We have more men in the field, fear not the next battle will be ours.”

  Defeat was always bad for the morale of Romans citizens but the next one proved devastating. The news was terrible in itself but its delivery method heightened the impact it had on the population of Rome. The Commander in Chief of the great army in the north Publius Rutilius Lupus was returned to Rome with he and his officers tied unceremoniously across the back of their horses and the combination of these two terrible defeats shook the Senators out of their complacency. Rome had gone from having two state-funded armies in the north to none within a month. They all considered Sulla to be their best general but by way of clipping his wings his army had been sent to deal with the Southern tribes so at this moment nothing but the debilitated Marius stood between Rome and the vindictive Marsi.

  It was lucky for Rome that Marius had carried out his threat so laughed at in the Senate and funded his own army. Predicting the incompetence of the two northern generals Marius took the precaution of training his ten thousand men while the others had ran off to war completely unprepared. It was Marius who found the carnage left by the Marsi and it was very apparent th
at Lupus had simply walked his poorly trained army headlong into a major defeat on a bridge over the fast flowing Velinus River. This patrician Roman was of such high caste he was simply unable to believe that the Italian rebels posed a real threat and much like Perperna he died because of his own stupidity. Of the ten thousand ill-prepared and unlucky soldiers unfortunate enough to be with him that day only 2000 survived. Roman bodies were jammed against obstructions in the river; many thousands of others had simply washed away.

  Marius knew very well the dramatic impact that sending the bodies of Lupus and his officers back to Rome would have on the people. He had performed his melodramatics as a way of shaking them out of their complacency. Even the slowest Senator would now be forced to take him and the war seriously. The Senate contained many blowhards but the majority were not complete fools, they understood what Marius had done and why he had done it.

  “Why didn’t we place Marius in charge in the first place?” shouted the very same Senators who had so callously jeered and booed him. They had ardently refused to give him a command but now they prayed to their Gods for the old man to deliver a victory. “This broken old fool”, as they once referred to him, was all that stood to prevent the demise of themselves, or even of Rome herself.

  Now the citizens of Rome were coming to the Senate every day. They stood outside and badgered the unfortunate Senators as they came and went. The people wanted to know what was being done to win this terrible war. “Why did you not give the tribes Roman status?” they shouted with passion in their voices. “Because of you they will kill us all!”

  How the Senators hated the accursed mob they represented. It was like herding a flight of birds following first one breeze then another. When they believed Rome would win against the Italians they shouted for war but now that the conflict could be lost not one of them could remember being an advocate of Roman dignitas. Now the people were all afraid and the Senators cursed Marius for making his point so very well. They had no choice but to fund the training of a further ten thousand soldiers and make “The Father of Rome” head of the northern army. The people would have rebelled if the Senate hadn’t replaced the dead Lupus with Marius but as always they found a way to spite the latter. He was made Joint Chief with Quintus Servilious Caepio a far lesser man and this further splitting of the army was the Senate’s typically spiteful way of teaching Marius a lesson for delivering Lupus home in such a provocative manner.