by Laura Dowers
‘Tullia has to be the Queen,’ Lucius said, ignoring her, and he set about arranging things.
He ordered a servant to drag over two sacks of grain to the centre of the yard. Set side by side and with a wooden board placed across them, Lucius declared this his throne. A large upturned jug served as Tullia’s seat placed alongside. Lolly hopped over to the rear wall, and sitting cross-legged on the ground, began picking wildflowers to fashion into two crowns. She skipped back to Lucius and told him to bend down, placing the chain over his curls. Tullia ran over to her sister and bent her knees to bring herself down to Lolly’s height. Lolly put her floral crown on her sister’s head. With great dignity, Lucius processed to his throne. He ordered Tullia to take her seat on the upturned jug.
‘You two are our subjects,’ he told Arruns and Lolly.
Lolly threw herself on the ground, her arms stretched out on either side in abject obeisance to her lord. Arruns looked at her and it was obvious by his expression he was trying to decide whether or not to play along. He glanced at Lucius, who was scowling at him, then dropped to his knees. Placus was pleased Arruns had at least some sense of pride that prevented him from prostrating himself before his brother.
Placus closed his eyes once more, at ease now and feeling free to doze. There would be no more tantrums between the brothers today so long as Lucius could be the mighty king and the others played their parts as his devoted subjects.
Tanaquil had observed the children from an upstairs window. She had watched as Lucius arranged everything to his liking and seen the way Lolly had been quick and eager to indulge him. The display irked her. It wasn’t good for Lucius to have everything his own way.
Watching Lucius and the way he treated those about him reminded Tanaquil of his father, her son. He too had been wilful and full of his own importance. Many times had she and Lucomo punished him with a rod to his back for some misdemeanour. The beatings had never seemed to do much good. It was only as he grew older that her son’s truculence had diminished, around the time he had been sent to fight the Veientes. She had welcomed the battles he would face. War, she knew, made men out of boys.
The game she had witnessed set Tanaquil to thinking. ‘We need to talk about the childrens’ marriages,’ she declared at dinner that night.
Servius looked at her over the rim of his cup. He glanced at Tarquinia, whose eyes were fixed hard on her mother.
‘There’s no need to look at me like that,’ Tanaquil told her daughter. ‘It has to be discussed.’
‘The girls aren’t old enough to make any decisions about who they should marry,’ Tarquinia protested.
Tanaquil glanced at Servius, who lowered his eyes. Tanaquil knew then he had not discussed the matter with Tarquinia, despite Tanaquil telling him months before that he must. It was up to her then. ‘There’s no question of who the girls should marry,’ she said. ‘The girls will marry Lucius and Arruns.’
‘Oh no, they won’t,’ Tarquinia said, setting her cup down so violently the wine slopped over her hand. She hastily wiped it away with her napkin. ‘I’m not having my girls married off to them.’
‘Why not?’ Tanaquil asked.
‘Why not? Because… because…’ Tarquinia spluttered then turned to Servius. ‘You tell her why not.’
Tanaquil looked at Servius as if innocently awaiting his explanation. He did his best to avoid her gaze.
‘It does make sense, Tarquinia,’ he said apologetically.
Tarquinia’s eyes widened. ‘You’ve discussed this,’ she said, her eyes moving from Servius to Tanaquil. ‘Haven’t you? Without me.’
‘We’ve talked about it, yes,’ Servius admitted. ‘Just talking, my dear.’
‘We did rather more than that, Servius,’ Tanaquil said, too impatient to play along with his pacification attempts. ‘Let’s not pussyfoot about. Tarquinia, we want one of the boys to succeed Servius to the throne when he dies. That will be made much easier if a daughter of King Servius Tullius is their wife. People like continuity and they like bloodlines.’
‘I don’t—,’ Tarquinia began, unable to find the words to express her horror at what was being proposed. ‘Why are we talking about Servius dying? And since when is it a given the monarchy will become hereditary?’
‘It’s been done once,’ Tanaquil said, picking apart a boiled egg and squeezing the hard yellow yoke onto her plate, ‘it can be done again.’
‘You can’t know that.’
‘No, Tarquinia, I can’t and I also won’t be here to see one of the boys become king after Servius, but what we decide now will make such an outcome likely.’
‘Oh, so, now you’re a prophet,’ Tarquinia tried to laugh but couldn’t manage it.
‘Don’t use that tone with me,’ Tanaquil glared at her. ‘I made your husband king, I can make one of your daughters queen.’
‘And which one gets given to Lucius? Which of my daughters are you going to sacrifice to that monster?’
‘He’s not a monster, my love,’ Servius said, reaching out to pat her arm.
Tarquinia slapped his hand away. ‘He is a monster,’ she spat.
‘He’s a handful at the moment,’ Servius conceded, ‘but I’m sure he’ll grow out of it.’
‘He’s got bad blood,’ Tarquinia said.
‘Lucius has your blood, daughter,’ Tanaquil said coolly, ‘or have you forgotten?’
Realising her arguments were falling on deaf ears, Tarquinia threw her napkin onto her plate and climbed off the couch. ‘It seems you two have my daughters’ futures all planned out, so you don’t need me.’ She flounced out of the room, banging the dining-room door after her.
‘I told you to talk to her about this,’ Tanaquil scolded.
‘I was going to,’ Servius insisted, ‘but there never seemed a good moment to broach the subject.’
‘Did you think it was just going to go away?’
‘I didn’t think anything, Tanaquil. I do have plenty of other matters to occupy me, you know.’ He poured himself another cup of wine, feeling he needed it.
‘Tarquinia doesn’t like Lucius,’ Tanaquil said.
‘Well, that’s not news. She’s never liked him. She is fond of Arruns, though. She won’t object to him marrying one of the girls. And don’t be too hard on Tarquinia, Tanaquil. She just wants the girls to be treated well by their husbands.’
‘All mothers would like that,’ Tanaquil snapped, ‘but there’s no way of knowing how their daughters will be treated by their husbands. A woman is either fortunate in her husband or she isn’t. She doesn’t find out until after the wedding.’
‘You have to admit, though, Lucius’s character doesn’t bode well for a happy marriage. I tell you, I’m not too happy myself about giving one of my girls to him.’
‘I’ve told you, he’ll grow out of it,’ Tanaquil said. ‘His father was just the same at his age.’
‘If you think it’s for the best, Tanaquil.’ Servius knew it didn’t matter what he or Tarquinia thought or wanted. When the time came, their daughters would marry their cousins.
10
Lucius had waited for a night when the moon was covered by cloud. He had told his grandmother he was going out, ignoring her protests that her old friend Abito was coming to dinner and she wanted all her family present. He wasn’t a child anymore. He was eighteen and he didn’t have to do what Tanaquil said. Lucius found Arruns and told him that if he wanted to have some fun, he should go with him. Arruns, who knew of his grandmother’s wish, hesitated, but a hard punch on the shoulder from his brother persuaded him to agree.
Lucius has taken him to his friend’s domus on the Sacra Via. Cossus had been a friend of Lucius’s from the age of twelve when Tanaquil had thought it time to extend the boys’ circle of acquaintances. The sons of her friends and important patricians were invited to take lessons with Lucius and Arruns and so the next generation of Rome’s leading citizens became allied. Tanaquil had hoped these new friends would have a positive effect on Luciu
s, showing him just how privileged his position as prince was and how he should learn to respect other people’s opinions and failings.
If that had been her aim, then Cossus had been a poor choice on Tanaquil’s part. He brought out and encouraged Lucius’s worst character traits. Cossus would treat his parents with scorn, even contempt, call them old fools or worse, and go out of his way to act in a manner he knew would displease them. He would join with Lucius to torment slaves and throw rubbish at people in the streets, for no better reason than they were bored. And perhaps most unfortunately, he shared Lucius’s opinion of Arruns, always careful because Arruns was a prince after all, to follow Lucius’s lead in insulting and mocking his brother but disparaging him roundly, nonetheless. Poor Arruns! He put up with it all and still Lucius was his idol.
When they arrived at his house, Cossus greeted Lucius with a hearty embrace and Arruns with a bored nod. There, they had waited, drinking several cups of wine, while Cossus sent out his slave to fetch his other friends. One by one, they arrived.
When night came down, they donned dark cloaks and made their way out of Rome through the Quirinal gate. Their journey only took about half an hour and they squatted behind a dense row of hedges that bordered the village they had chosen for their fun. There was no movement in the village save for the livestock that snuffled and squeaked in their pens. Fine wisps of smoke seeped through the thatches of the huts but no light showed beneath doorways or through cracks in the mud walls.
Lucius’s blood had quickened. This was better than having to endure a boring dinner with people he didn’t know or care a fig about. He was ready, he was eager. What would be more enjoyable, he wondered, to go in quietly or shouting? To take the peasants unawares or to scare the shit out of them with their noise?
‘What do you think?’ Lucius asked Cossus.
Cossus grinned. ‘It’s more fun to go in shouting but it alerts them, gives them a chance to fight back. This is a new tunic. I don’t want blood on it. Leastways, not mine.’
‘Silently, then. We’ll enjoy the look of surprise on their faces.’
‘Lucius,’ Arruns squatted down beside them, leaves and twigs cracking beneath his feet, ‘I don’t think this is a good idea.’
Lucius and Cossus both laughed. ‘Go home, brother,’ Lucius said, ‘if you’ve not got the stomach for this. I won’t have you showing me up by pissing yourself.’
‘I won’t,’ Arruns declared indignantly, ‘I’m not leaving.’
Cossus grunted. ‘Then get ready.’
There were seven of them in all, seven young men eager to cause trouble and shed blood. They checked their weapons, spat on their hands, prayed to Mars and ran silently toward the village.
Lucius ran past the nearest dwellings, heading for the largest hut in the middle. He kicked the wooden door and it flew open, banging against the wall behind. The inhabitants, woken by the sudden noise, jumped from their straw beds on the floor, crying in alarm. A man reached to the wall for a heavy stick, but before he could grab it, Lucius stabbed him with his sword. A woman cowering in the corner began screaming as her husband fell to the ground. Lucius quickly sized her up. Past forty, scrawny and plain. Not worth his effort. He put his sword in her throat to stop her screaming.
He wiped his sword on the woman’s clothing and looked around the hut. By the gods, did people really live like this? There was nothing but a few rags, some wooden utensils and a dried-up loaf to be seen in the dim light afforded by the embers of a dying fire. Nothing worth taking for his own. Lucius used his sword to swipe bowls and cups from a shelf; they crashed and smashed pleasingly on the floor. He was about to leave when he heard the smallest of noises, like the catching of a breath. He turned back.
Against the rear of the hut was what appeared to be a pile of blankets covered by a wolf’s pelt. Lucius was by the mound in one stride. He pulled the pelt away and a cry came from beneath the blankets. Lucius grabbed a handful of the fabric. Something firm was beneath the coarse wool and he closed his hand around it and pulled. An arm emerged, then the blanket fell away to reveal a young girl’s face.
Lucius laughed. There was something worth taking after all. He threw his sword on the floor and used both hands to drag the girl out from her hiding place. She tried to pull away, but she was young and small and no match for Lucius. She pleaded with him to spare her, her eyes flicking between him and the sword that had killed her parents.
Lucius struck her across the face. She fell back, blood streaming from her nose to soak her thin tunic. Hurting and senseless, she was easier to handle. He tore her tunic, exposing her small, pointed breasts that had only just budded. She was very young, no more than thirteen, he guessed. He spread her legs and shuffled up between them. She moaned as she started to come round and he felt the excitement course through him. It would be more fun if she knew what was happening to her.
He pushed into her. She screamed, her hands scratching and clawing at his chest. He was too excited to last long and he quickly spilled into her, his spittle dribbling onto her face as he grunted out his pleasure.
Lucius left the hut. He’d decided not to kill the girl, his small act of mercy. As he emerged into the cool night air, he swelled with triumph at the sound of screams that punctuated the quiet. Was Arruns the cause of some of those screams, he wondered? He had better be, he thought, and set off to find his brother, wanting to make sure he hadn’t lost his nerve and run out on him. He’d searched two huts before he found Arruns.
‘How many have you got?’ Lucius asked, spying bodies on the floor of the hut.
‘Only those two there,’ Arruns replied.
‘Women?’
Arruns shook his head.
‘Never mind,’ Lucius said, and taking hold of his brother’s arm, led him back to the hut he had wrecked.
The girl had curled herself up into a foetal position and was crying into the blankets she had once more tried to cover herself with. Her whole body shook as Lucius and Arruns entered, her eyes opening wide in renewed terror.
‘You can have this one,’ Lucius said, then as Arruns hesitated, ‘go on.’
Arruns went to the girl, who was trying to move as far she could away from him, but there was nowhere to go. Arruns pulled on her legs, laying her flat on her back once again. There was no fight left in the girl. She lay acquiescent beneath Arruns, her immature body jolting with every thrust.
In less than an hour, the small village had been ransacked, the men killed or wounded, the women raped. One or two of the group helped themselves to an animal, and they started the journey back to Rome, the squeals of the pigs and bleats of the goats joining in with their shouts and whoops celebrating a successful night hunting.
‘How many more?’ Servius asked his secretary, gesturing at the people in the vestibulum waiting to see him.
The secretary checked his wax tablet. ‘Six you should see, my lord, the rest you can dismiss if you want.’
Servius sighed. He had a duty, he knew, to the people, but such a lot of this was a waste of time; so much of what came out of these petitions was just complaining. But occasionally there was a valid case, some matter he could put right with a nod of his head or a flick of his hand, and those were the ones he enjoyed, the cases he could be justifiably proud of.
‘I’ll see all of them,’ he said, ‘just see if you can hurry things along.’
The secretary nodded, wondering how he was expected to make the audiences go faster when Servius would insist on asking so many questions. Just then, there was a commotion at the far end of the hall, raised voices, the sound of a scuffle and Servius instructed the secretary to find out what was happening. The secretary folded shut his wooden wax tablet and went off to investigate. He came hurrying back a few minutes later, a look of alarm on his face.
‘It’s a man and a girl from a village on the banks of the Tiber a few miles north of here,’ he reported. ‘He says they were attacked last night.’
‘Another raid?’ Servius thre
w down his pen in annoyance. ‘I thought we were clamping down on those. But why have they come here? They should appeal to the senate for help.’
The secretary stepped closer, his mouth close to Servius’s ear. ‘The man claims to have recognised one of the raiders. He says it was Prince Lucius, my lord.’
Servius stared at the secretary. ‘Prince Lucius raided this man’s village?’
‘So the man claims.’ The secretary made to go, paused, then turned back to Servius. ‘Shall I dismiss the petitioners?’
‘Why?’ Servius asked sharply.
‘If the man’s claims are true, we don’t want them hearing it, do we? It’ll be all over the city before nightfall.’
Servius’s jaw tightened. ‘If the man’s claims are true, then it should be made known. Word always get out and then I should be accused of covering up for my wife’s nephew. You leave those people where they are. Bring the man and the girl before me.’
The secretary returned to the vestibulum and Servius heard his murmurs. Servius knew the secretary thought he was wrong to keep the people there, he had seen it in his face. Tanaquil would think him wrong too. But Tanaquil, thankfully, wasn’t here and he would have the truth. Damn Lucius, he thought, he knows how hard I’m working to stop these unprovoked attacks on our neighbours. Servius would fight for Rome when he had to, but raids! Raids were senseless. They achieved nothing save to rouse up the peasantry and cause problems for the senate.
The secretary returned, shepherding the man and girl forward until they stood before Servius. They were a sorry sight. The man was about twenty-five. His ragged dark hair was matted with blood, his mouth and cheek were swollen and bruised and there was a dark red stain on his clothing above his hip. The girl’s nose was swollen and cut, both eyes were blackened and the clothing she wore was far too big for her, obviously not her own. No one who looked upon the pair could doubt they had been attacked.
Servius addressed them. ‘I am sorry for your trouble. My secretary tells me your village was attacked last night.’