The Seven Hills

by John Maddox Roberts

  "That is very true," said the head of the college, one of the elders of the great clan of Brutus. "I'll wager our scouts return with word of the Carthaginians in full retreat, or if they come here and invest the city, our legions will come up. from the south and crush them against the walls like bugs."

  Gabinius nodded eagerly. "That's the way to talk! Let the citizens hear that and all will be well. They're Romans, after all. It's just that, as Romans, they have never known news of a defeat in generations."

  That evening, the princeps and consuls convoked a special meeting for further military planning. As always, Gabinius spoke first.

  "Conscript fathers," he began, "I need hardly point out that the reconquest of our old empire has proven an even more formidable task than we had anticipated. It is clear that our legions will not be sufficient to the task unaided.

  At the moment, we have no allies. We have drained the manpower pool of Noricum to build all these new legions. We need many cohorts of auxilia and where are we to find the men?" He paused for rhetorical effect, then went on. "Here in Italy, that is where!"

  The Consul Scipio stood. "Princeps, Italy lost its manhood when our ancestors went north in the Exile! Those who stayed bent their necks to the Carthaginian yoke. They are little more than slaves! Early on it was proposed that they earn their way back into our good graces and limited citizenship by serving as rowers in our new navy. But to give them arms and place them in the battle line with our citizen legions? That is to give them too much honor." Applause greeted this.

  "Honor can be earned," Gabinius answered, "and let us not fool ourselves. We have no alternative. We know from the battle of the Arnus that we were defeated not through the weakness of our legions, green though they were, but for lack of sufficient auxilia to support their flanks. We need light infantry, archers, slingers and, above all, cavalry!" He held their attention with his intensity and went on.

  "North of the Rivet Arnus is what used to be Cisalpine Gaul. The people there were our allies in the old days. By all accounts, they suffered little from Carthage, and most of them never even saw a Carthaginian. I'll wager they have not lost all of their warrior heritage. Let's start there. Then we can scour old Latium and central Italy, paying special attention to the mountainous regions; the places where living is rough and the Carthaginians never went. Let's call in those bandits who infest this peninsula. Yes, I know what you'll all say: 'What! Bandits in Roman service?' And to that I say: 'Yes!' These are men of spirit; men who refused to till the soil for absentee landlords, who found more honor in taking arms and raiding. Were Romulus, Remus and their followers any different? Offer them amnesty with no demand that they lay down their arms. Offer them limited citizenship in exchange for service in our auxilia. I promise you we will quickly raise a sizable force of first-rate skirmishers and foragers!"

  There were howls of protest but Gabinius smiled grimly. He knew he could bring them around. There was no question about it, because he and they knew that there was no choice. They were registering their protests for the sake of form. They knew now that Roman legions could lose a battle. He would get his way.

  For a few days the city remained tense, until the scouts came pounding back down the Via Clodia with word that the Carthaginian force had, indeed, returned from whence it came. There was no jubilation, but a general sense of relief settled over the city. Sacrifices and omen taking resumed, and further scouts were dispatched to shadow Mastanabal's army and report upon its every movement.

  When two legions arrived from Campania, they were sent north to the Arnus, there to undertake construction of extensive fortifications. It was defensive warfare, the sort Romans hated the most, but unavoidable since the main Roman forces had to be concentrated in the South. The legions in the North were also to raise, arm and train as many auxilia as they possibly could.

  One question plagued the consuls, the princeps and the Senate: Where were Titus Norbanus and those four veteran legions?

  The legions landed on the little pirate cove like a thunderbolt from heaven. By their thousands, the armored men poured over the narrow pass in the inland hills during the hours before dawn, moving with their now-accustomed quiet. By the time the village was awake, the soldiers were upon it, killing wherever they met resistance, taking prisoners where there was none. The pirates were sturdy men and tough fighters, but they had neither the numbers, the equipment nor the discipline of their pitiless conquerors. A few minutes of vicious fighting saw the utter destruction of the pirates; then came the sack of the town. The prisoners, mostly women and children, were herded into a compound and kept under guard.

  Titus Norbanus rode in and inspected his latest acquisition. First, he assured himself that not a single pirate had escaped by sea. It would not do to let anyone spread the word of his coming to the many other pirate towns along the coast. Satisfied, he rode into the little town square and dismounted. His men had already secured the town's finest house for his use, and he seated himself upon its spacious, covered porch, sipping wine while his men piled the loot before him.

  Norbanus was outrageously pleased with this stage of his march. It was proving incredibly profitable. The march north through Syria had been tense but uneventful. They had been shadowed the whole way by native soldiers, not a real threat but in enough strength to discourage any attempts upon the cities of the coast. Norbanus had sent word to the Seleucid governor that he meant no hostility, that he and his soldiers just wanted to get home. The governor had made no offer of help, but neither did he make any aggressive move. They passed within sight of the walls of splendid Antioch, and Norbanus was greatly tempted to sack the place, but that might have been more than the Senate could stomach, so he merely used its crossing of the River Orontes, paying the ferry companies meticulously and paying also for all the necessities they needed.

  Then they turned westward, along the south-facing coast of Cilicia, and the Syrian troops had halted at the border. This rugged country was claimed by the Seleucids, but they had never occupied the place in any meaningful fashion. The only major city was Tarsus, which regarded itself as independent and was mainly Greek rather than native. Norbanus was diplomatic with the fathers of Tarsus and his army availed itself of the excellent water there.

  Most of Cilicia was too mountainous and primitive for any kind of rule save the tribal sort. Its towns were virtually independent, and on the coast the only trade practiced was piracy. This was what made the Cilician stage of the march so lucrative.

  Nearly every day's march brought them to a range of hills, and on the other side of those hills there was nearly always a little cove, with its own village and its own pirate fleet. There were never more than a few hundred to a few thousand men in each town. Except for the practice of piracy, these would have been nothing but squalid fishing villages. With it, they were fine little towns, their warehouses stuffed with the loot of the sea, taken in raids on coastal towns and from captured ships, and their treasuries filled with gold and silver, most of it ransom money, for the most profitable enterprise of the pirates was the capture of wealthy persons. All over the Inner Sea, there were factors that arranged for the ransom of captives on a fixed scale.

  When all the loot had been counted, a group of about twenty men and women were brought before him. They wore clothing of good quality, although some of their garments were very much the worse for wear. They stared about them apprehensively, clearly alarmed by these outlandish soldiers who had appeared from nowhere and displayed such ferocity.

  "You are the captives of this little band of pirates, are you not?" Norbanus asked them in Greek.

  "We are," said one of them, a tall, distinguished man who appeared to be Greek.

  "Are you the spokesman of this group?"

  The man looked at the others, who looked back at him blankly. "It would appear so."

  "Excellent. I am Titus Norbanus, proconsul of Rome. You have heard of us?"

  The man inclined his head. "We have heard reports of your return t
o Italy, Proconsul. We scarcely expected to see you in Cilicia. Might I inquire of our fate?"

  "You may well rejoice in our advent among you. Rome is mighty, and Rome is orderly. I am offended by the disorder of this pirate business. Rome will correct this evil, in time. In the meanwhile, like the other captives in the other pirate towns we have liberated, you will be returned to your homelands by the first available transportation. Rome is just, and Rome wants only friendly relations with the people of the Middle Sea." He paused a moment. "Except, of course, for Carthage. We will destroy Carthage."

  The tall man bowed, as did the rest. "Rome is merciful, indeed."

  "I said just, not merciful," Norbanus corrected. "Mercy is an attribute of weakness. Justice and clemency are attributes of the strong. Nothing is stronger than Rome."

  A woman stepped forward. "Proconsul, I am Atalanta, from Herakleion, on Crete. My ransom of two thousand Athenian drachmas has already been delivered. I was waiting on the next ship bound for Crete."

  "Your ransom will be returned to you," Norbanus said grandly. "If any others among you have already been ransomed, report the sum to my quaestor and you will be repaid. Of course, I will want to see receipts. These pirates seem to be meticulous in their accounts, so there should be no problem." No sense letting them take him for a fool, he thought.

  The liberated captives were led away, thanking him profusely, some of them coming forward to kiss the hem of his cloak.

  "Nice bit of diplomacy, that," Lentulus Niger commented.

  "It costs us nothing," Norbanus said, "and it spreads goodwill. These people we liberate will spread word throughout the eastern half of the Middle Sea that Rome has arrived and Rome is their friend, if they are wise. Without conquering a foot of ground, we've put much of the East in Rome's debt and made the rest terrified of us. When Roman armies show up for the real conquest, our enemies will already be half-defeated by their own fears."

  By afternoon, Norbanus had sold all the captives to the Syrian slave traders who followed the army like vultures. He made arrangements for the liberated prisoners to be taken to the nearest port city, where they could take a ship for home, and as always reminded the escort what a terrible fate awaited them should their charges not reach their destination safely. Norbanus found it a wise policy always to assume the worst of foreigners and took precautions accordingly.

  Preparations for dinner were well under way when lookouts stationed on a headland jutting into the sea signaled that a ship approached. Shortly thereafter the vessel appeared and they saw at once that it was not a pirate ship returning to its base. It was a small galley under sail in a favorable wind, and upon its square sail was painted Jupiter's eagle, clutching thunderbolts in its talons.

  Cato set down his cup. "The Roman navy appears at last!" Previously, they had seen only Greek ships commandeered by Rome, usually carrying orders from the Senate which Norbanus always found excuses to ignore.

  "Whatever does the noble Senate want now?" Norbanus grumped. "Does anyone want to wager that it's something other than 'come home right this minute'? As if I weren't hurrying there as fast as I can!"

  The others maintained detached expressions. Norbanus had had plenty of opportunity to arrange for sea transportation to Italy. He just had no intention of doing so. He was embarked upon his own personal epic and wanted no interference with it.

  An hour later the ship was made fast to the town's wharf and a Roman official strode into the square and up to the house where Norbanus and his staff sat at dinner. He wore a silvered cuirass and helmet and his tunic and cloak were blue. Romans had not used blue as a military color since giving up their navy more than a century previously.

  "Servius Papirius Caldus," the man announced. "Naval quaestor of the Brundisium fleet. Which of you is Titus Norbanus?" Of course there was no question which was Norbanus, but no Roman would admit to recognizing another purely because of his splendor.

  "I'm Norbanus. Have a seat, Papirius, you look hungry. I never heard of a naval quaestor or a Brundisium fleet, but times are changing fast, it seems. Is your ship truly all Roman?"

  Papirius took a seat and accepted a cup of wine. "We have a Greek sailing master and a few experienced Greek crewmen, but the rest are Italian. We'll depend on the Greeks for a while, until we've more experience at sea. I'm carrying messages from the Senate, plus a sealed letter from your father, the consul." He looked around at the officers seated at the table, all hard-faced men wearing an unusual amount of gold. He looked at the great heap of loot before the steps, then he turned back.

  "We sailed too far east at first and learned in Tarsus that you'd already passed. Then we turned around and just followed the smoke of burning towns until we caught up with you. You certainly seem to have made your mark on this part of the world."

  "We have made the presence of Rome felt," Norbanus said modestly.

  "It looks like it's been fun," Papirius said. "But I think your adventure is about to come to an end. These are excellent figs, by the way."

  Norbanus's eyes narrowed. "End? What do you mean?"

  Papirius spat out an olive pit. "There's a big fleet of transports just been built and undergoing sea trials when I left Brundisium. They'll be coming this way to pick you all up and fetch you back to Italy. They could be sailing this way already."

  Everyone looked at Norbanus, whose face had turned to stone. "Excellent," he grated at last. "We shall be home sooner than anticipated."

  "Unless," said Lentulus Niger, "the omens prove unfavorable to a sea voyage." He eyed his plate innocently as he said it.

  "And," Cato commented, "we are well into fall. The good sailing days are numbered." He eyed Norbanus above his cup.

  Titus Norbanus suppressed a smile. These two had been loyal in the field, but they had been his adversaries in all else. But he had enriched them beyond their wildest dreams, giving them leading parts in the greatest adventure in the history of Rome. Now they were his, their fortunes committed to his.

  "Of course," he said, "anything could happen."

  Papirius nodded. "I suppose." He dipped a piece of bread into a pot of olive oil in which fragrant herbs steeped. "You got word about the defeat on the Arnus?"

  "We heard," Niger said grimly. "The report that came with the last ship from Rome didn't give us much in the way of details."

  Papirius launched into a colorful description of the debacle. As always happened, a few survivors had made it across the river and back to Rome in the days after the battle, so the people had a fairly clear account of the fighting to supplement Aemilius's bare-bones dispatches to the Senate. While Papirius spoke, Norbanus turned over the possibilities in his mind. It was not in his nature simply to defy the Senate. He was far more inclined to turn this annoyance somehow to his own advantage.

  He was certain that there was no real rush about getting back to Italy. The defeat on the Arnus was a setback from which Rome would need time to recover. Hamilcar was not going to attack soon. He had several months yet to continue his march, and by the time he returned to Rome there would have been new elections, new consuls presiding over the Senate. He did not have to please men who would be out of office soon. Thinking of this he opened the letter from his father.

  My son: I hope this finds you well and victorious. Our enemies in the Senate, most of them old family diehards, wish you ill. They are jealous of your magnificient accomplishments in the East. Stay your course and pay them no heed. You will return in glory to Rome and you will be the idol of the people. I have been working all year to see that you will have a sympathetic new family consul in office when you return. I have called in all my political debts to win support for Gains Hermanicus. He is not militarily ambitious, so he is quite content to spend the next year sitting in a curule chair instead of in the field. More importantly, he is a firm supporter of our family.

  I am all but assured of a proconsular command of one of the armies being readied for the African campaign. My colleague, Scipio the elder, will have another
. I foresee trouble with so many proconsuls in the field at once, but there is little help for it with a war this vast. Speaking of which, many here resent your using the title "proconsul." It is true that you have what amounts to a proconsular command, but since you have not held the requisite offices, there are those who whisper that you have dictatorial ambitions. When you return, I urge you to make a show of modesty and say that you assumed the title only to encourage the proper awe in foreigners.

  Do not hurry at the behest of our rivals, but do not delay too long, either. Return covered with honors and take your place in the Senate. Long Live Rome and the family Norbanus.

  Nothing much of interest there, he thought. Just what he already knew. Dictatorial ambitions, eh? He decided he liked the sound of that.

  He went back to pondering what to do about this fleet that wanted to whisk him away to Italy before he completed his planned journey. As he thought, the first animals of the baggage train entered the town. It had grown so vast that it followed his legions at some distance. The bulk of it would have to encamp outside the small town. He would have to scour the countryside for more pack beasts and wagons to transport, his takings.

  He had been wondering how he was going to get all of this loot to Italy, but now it seemed that he had sea transport on the way. This presented him with a new possibility. He had greatly enjoyed commanding his own army. Now it might be just as pleasurable to have his own navy.

  A month later they were on the coast of Lycia, having made a profitable march along the coast of Pamphylia. The Pamphylians were a half-Asiatic, barbarous people who had much finer cities than the Cilicians, but had the same penchant for piracy. To make the situation even better, they had the temerity to try to stop the legions from crossing their territory. They mounted aggressive attacks against the marching columns, and this gave Norbanus the perfect excuse to acquire those cities for his own. In most places he installed petty chieftains as the new rulers and they pledged themselves as his personal clients.