The Last King of Rome

by Laura Dowers

  ‘Can’t you work it out? That’s worrying. You’re supposed to be my clever adviser.’

  ‘Just tell me,’ Manius said, refusing to let himself be riled.

  ‘I’m going to expose Turnus as having planned to kill me and all the other Latin leaders, hence the swords. When the other leaders see the swords, they’ll believe me and agree that it is better to be led by Rome than stay independent. They’re already halfway there. It’s only Turnus who holds them back.’

  ‘You sound so sure,’ Manius said.

  ‘I am sure,’ Lucius said. ‘I consulted a soothsayer before leaving Rome. He said I will be victorious and that Turnus will be crushed.’

  ‘Is it necessary to crush everyone?’ Manius asked exasperatedly.

  Lucius stared at him. ‘You know, I wonder about you sometimes, Manius. What’s the matter? Are you turning into a woman in your old age?’

  ‘Don’t mock me, Lucius,’ Manius said warningly.

  ‘My lord!’ Lucius bellowed suddenly. ‘You call me ‘my lord’ when you address me. I am your king, Manius, don’t ever forget that.’

  Manius dragged his eyes away from Lucius. ‘No, my lord,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘I won’t forget.’

  ‘How do I look?’ Lucius stood before Manius and held out his arms.

  The toga hung well off Lucius’s frame and Manius consoled himself with the knowledge that he had advised correctly. Cossus had said Lucius should go to the grove in Ferentina in his armour, but Manius said it would put a martial slant on the event from the very beginning and they should try to avoid that. Lucius had wavered. Manius knew he would prefer to stand in front of the leaders of the Latins in armour, showing off his physique and strength, but Lucius had relented and the toga won.

  ‘Excellent,’ Manius said.

  ‘Good. And stop sulking,’ Lucius said, ‘it’s irritating.’

  Manius didn’t answer. Lucius was right, he was sulking. The rebuke Lucius had given him the night before still stung. But that would pass, he knew, the sting would lessen. What wouldn’t lessen was the feeling that what Lucius was about to do was wrong. Manius had meant what he said the previous night. Why did Lucius always have to conquer? Why could he not seek to make alliances like Servius had done? Ha, diplomacy! Perhaps I am getting old, Manius thought.

  Cossus burst into the tent, looked Lucius up and down, wrinkled his nose at the choice of attire and asked Lucius if he was ready. Lucius affirmed and all three exited, their destination the grove of Ferentina.

  It was early, the sun only just rising over the horizon, and all the Latins were still asleep in their tents or on their makeshift beds on the ground. They awoke quickly at the noise made by Lucius and his men, and they threw off their blankets, asking one another what was going on.

  ‘Forgive me, friends,’ Lucius begged, holding his hands palms up. ‘I would not disturb your rest for the world but this is a matter that cannot wait. I have discovered you have all been betrayed by the very man you look to lead you.’

  ‘What is this?’ Turnus pushed his way through to the front of the crowd gathered around Lucius. ‘Tarquin, what new trick is this?’

  ‘No trick, Turnus, you know of what I speak,’ Lucius said.

  ‘I know you’re talking shit. Again.’

  Lucius heard Cossus curse, but he wasn’t about to let himself be put off by Turnus’s bluntness. ‘I speak the truth, Turnus, as your countrymen will discover.’ He fixed his gaze on the Latins. ‘Turnus Herdonius was planning to betray you, my friends. He and a band of conspirators had schemed to kill you at this meeting I invited you to and take over all the Latin states.’

  ‘Where do you get this from?’ Turnus demanded, laughing, but Lucius heard the concern in his voice.

  ‘From someone whom you thought you had cowed into obedience and silence. A boy who had nothing but blows from you. A boy brave enough to seek me out and tell me what you intended.’

  ‘What boy? Who are you talking about?’

  ‘Come forward, boy.’ Lucius held out his arm and Cossus propelled the young boy forward. He looked more frightened than ever and tried to resist Cossus’s firm hand on his shoulder. ‘This boy, your servant, Turnus, came to me and told me what he had discovered. Swords, my friends. Turnus was storing weapons in his tent to attack you this very morning.’

  ‘This is nonsense,’ Turnus asserted, turning to his men. ‘He’s making it up.’

  ‘Am I making these up?’ Lucius said and nodded to Cossus. Cossus snapped his fingers and one of his men deposited the swords on the ground in front of Turnus.

  Turnus stared down at them. ‘I’ve never seen these swords before. They’re not mine.’

  ‘They were found in your tent. Hidden.’ Lucius heard the murmurings from the Latins. ‘Why were they there, Turnus? Why were they hidden?’

  ‘They’re not mine,’ Turnus snarled, his face turning purple. He turned to the Latins. ‘I have not been plotting against you. It’s him.’ He jabbed his finger at Lucius. ‘He’s a master of cunning and of deceit. He is lying to you. Every word he utters is false.’

  He wasn’t convincing them, Lucius saw that. The Latins were talking with one another but they weren’t including Turnus. One of the men, Bellus, turned to Lucius.

  ‘We need to talk about this amongst ourselves,’ he said, deliberately ignoring Turnus who was trying to interrupt. ‘Come back in an hour.’

  Bellus didn’t wait for Lucius’s answer. He told Turnus to go back to his tent. Turnus retreated without a word, looking sourly at the men Bellus sent to accompany him.

  ‘What do you think?’ Lucius said under his breath.

  ‘Worked like a charm,’ Cossus grinned, his hand still on the boy’s shoulder. He wasn’t going to have the boy return to his camp and have the truth shaken out of him.

  ‘Astonishingly easy,’ Manius said. ‘That they would believe you so readily.’

  ‘They know they can trust me,’ Lucius said.

  Cossus and Manius looked at one another. From Lucius’s tone, they could tell he actually believed that.

  Lucius was impatient for the hour to pass. He wanted to get Turnus out of the way sooner rather than later, so he could move on to the next stage of his plan, his elevation to ruling all the Latin tribes. His tent was too small to contain his energy, so he made a show of inspecting the men and irritating Cossus by suggesting improvements to the men’s armour, most of which were decorative and would serve no useful purpose, save to make fighting more difficult. It was Manius, ironically, who saved Cossus from having to tell Lucius to piss off by announcing that the Latins were assembling.

  They made their way back to the grove, Cossus and Manius having to hurry to catch up with Lucius. The Latin leaders were already assembled when they arrived. Bellus stepped out of their group, arm extended towards Lucius. As Lucius grasped it, Bellus pulled him to one side.

  ‘We’ve talked over what you said about Turnus. Most are willing to believe it. Some need a little more persuading.’

  ‘What else can I do to prove his treachery?’ Lucius queried innocently.

  Bellus gave a quick glance over his shoulder. ‘I can persuade them. They’ll listen to me.’

  ‘Thank you, Bellus,’ Lucius said earnestly and turned to go.

  ‘Hold a moment, there, my lord king,’ Bellus said, catching hold of him. ‘I said I can, not that I will.’

  ‘I see.’ Lucius said, wondering how much longer he would have to wait.

  ‘I don’t think you do,’ Bellus said with an ugly grin. ‘If you did, you’d be making me an offer now.’

  Understanding crossed Lucius’s face. ‘What is it you want?’

  ‘All of Turnus’s goods and properties. And to act as your deputy when I’ve made you King of the Latins. You won’t want to be leaving Rome all the time to administrate your new kingdoms. You could leave all that to me.’

  Lucius thought quickly. He had planned to make his eldest nephew, Titus, his deputy in the Latin st
ates. Admittedly, he hadn’t made any definite promises but it had been understood. His sister wouldn’t be pleased when she found out it was not to be. But still, he could put up with that, if it meant Turnus would be got rid of this easily.

  ‘Agreed,’ he said, and held out his hand.

  Bellus grasped it. ‘Right then. Let’s deal with Turnus, shall we?’

  Bellus strode back to his countrymen and spoke in low tones to the leaders. Lucius watched them closely. There was a lot of nodding, some arm waving, but from what Lucius could see, there was a consensus. And then Bellus shouted, ‘Fetch Turnus,’ and a ruffled Turnus, his arms bound behind his back, was dragged from his tent and brought to stand before Lucius. He had been struck; Lucius noted Turnus’s split lip and the blood crusted around one nostril. Turnus glared at Lucius but said nothing.

  ‘So, Turnus, from the look of you, I see your fellow Latins trusted in my words. They know of your treachery and will deal with you justly.’ He looked over at Bellus. ‘How will you deal with this traitor, my friend? Will you put him to trial?’

  ‘No need for that,’ Bellus said. ‘We know he’s a traitor. Don’t we?’ A roar went up from the Latins. ‘We know how to deal with traitors.’

  Bellus winked at Lucius, then jerked his thumb at the nearest group of men. They grabbed Turnus and lifted him off his feet, two holding him under the arms, another holding his legs together while a rope was placed around his ankles. Bucking futilely against his bonds, Turnus was carried to the side of the small lake that rippled in the grove. There, he was laid on the ground and held fast while a willow hurdle was tied to him. Heavy stones were laid on the hurdle, making Turnus cry out in pain at their weight. Then Turnus was lifted, hurdle and all, into the air and lowered into the lake. He was pushed out into the water until the ground fell away and he disappeared beneath the water. Bubbles broke the surface of the water. Soon, the surface of the lake was still.

  Bellus turned and strode back to Lucius. ‘That’s how we deal with traitors.’

  The rest of the Latins had followed Bellus and were now looking at him and Lucius.

  Bellus addressed them. ‘We, the Latin tribes, had a treaty with King Ancus Marcius and King Lucius Tarquinius Priscus, in which we were treated no better than Greeks or Egyptians, subject to their whims and vulnerable to any nation who thought they could subdue us. That treaty lapsed in King Servius’s time and we were happy to let it do so, believing we needed no such treaty. We were wrong to think we could do without Rome. We have suffered from the enemies of Rome, who dare not attack her but will content themselves attacking us. If we come under Rome’s dominion, if we acknowledge King Lucius our king, then we will enjoy her protection and we will prosper. What do you say, my friends? Shall we accept King Lucius’s generous offer and become friends to Rome?’

  There was no hesitation. The Latins cried out their approval and sunk to their knees, bowing their heads to Lucius.

  Lucilla gripped the pommels of her chair, wishing it was her brother’s throat. How dare he! How dare he! She thought back to Lucius’s return to Rome, how he had strode through the doors of the domus, all smiles and self-congratulation, and told them how, with just a few well-chosen words, he had fooled the Latins and had them kill their own leader before they all bowed down to him.

  Lucilla and her family had been in the domus to welcome him home, all impatient to hear his news. She and her sons had been expecting to hear how they would benefit, how Lucius would fulfil the promises he had made them. And Lucius had smiled, quite brazenly, and told them things had changed.

  So, her eldest, Titus, would not be given the power Lucius had promised. Worse, Lucius offered nothing else in place of that power. Titus, she knew, had been going around the city boasting of how he would soon be king in all but name over the Latin tribes. She’d even encouraged him to do it. Lucilla didn’t dare think how much she and he had bought on credit on the promise of that power. Now, all the shopkeepers and merchants who had sold them goods would be calling to have their bills settled and there was no money to pay them. The money would have come when Titus was made deputy. Lucilla winced at the thought of their home being invaded, their possessions taken. They would be ruined, all because Lucius didn’t care a fig about her and her family.

  Titus had been so disappointed. They had left the domus, refusing Lucius’s appeals for them to stay and enjoy the dinner they had been invited to. Lucilla knew Lucius didn’t care one way or the other whether they stayed. She had told him the food would stick in their throats and told Titus and Iunius to follow her home. She had seen Lucius’s sly smile as she walked away. How she hated him.

  An idea began to form in her mind. Her family was not entirely without power. They had a voice and one that, as Tarquins, would be listened to in the city. Yes, that was it. They would speak out, speak against Lucius. She would do it the only way open to her by gossipping amongst her friends, but Titus could and would do it in the senate house. Together, they would relentlessly batter against Lucius’s pride and authority, and he would realise what a mistake he had made in keeping her and her son so low.

  Lucius gnawed on his thumb. ‘What is he saying?’

  Cossus checked his papers. ‘That you should be deposed, that you were in league with our enemies. That you are hoarding gold here in the domus that should have been distributed amongst the senate. That you’ve kept gifts from our subjects that should have been placed in the temples.’

  ‘Anything that comes into his stupid mind, in fact,’ Lucius said. ‘Are people listening to him?’

  ‘He always gets an audience when he talks,’ Cossus said.

  ‘Titus is pissed at you,’ Manius said. ‘You promised him an office of state and you took that away and gave him nothing in its place. Find something for him to do and he will stop all this.’

  ‘It’s his mother, too, Lucius,’ Cossus said. ‘She’s been talking with her friends, those bitches Martia and Lavinia, and they’ve been spreading her gossip around.’

  ‘I don’t care about the talk of women,’ Lucius spat. ‘But Titus is my damned nephew. He owes me his loyalty. Is Iunius speaking against me too?’

  ‘Iunius is a fool, Lucius,’ Manius said quickly before Cossus could speak. ‘A half-wit, you know that. He doesn’t even go into the senate. No one listens to anything he says. And Titus will shut up soon. He’ll run out of things to accuse you of.’

  ‘I won’t have it,’ Lucius rose and glared at Cossus. ‘You hear me?’

  Cossus stared at Lucius and nodded. ‘I hear you.’

  Manius looked at Cossus’s grim expression and understand what was meant. ‘He’s your nephew, Lucius,’ he protested. ‘You can’t.’

  ‘Can’t? What can’t I do, Manius?’ Lucius fumed. ‘Am I not the King?’

  ‘But… your nephew!’

  ‘Then he should know better, shouldn’t he?’ Cossus said, rising. ‘Tell me when, Lucius.’

  ‘The sooner the better,’ Lucius said.

  ‘I’ll do it tonight, then. We’ll go to a whorehouse. One quick stab and it’ll be over. Blame it on one of the other patrons.’

  ‘Good. It’ll serve him and his mother right. His reputation will be ruined, dying in a whorehouse.’

  ‘It’s as good as done,’ Cossus promised and with a triumphant glance at Manius, departed.

  Lucius eyed Manius. ‘You’re quiet all of a sudden, Manius.’

  ‘Will you comfort your sister when she hears her son is murdered, Lucius?’ Manius said, his voice breaking. ‘Will you pretend you’re sorry or will you admit you had him killed?’

  ‘You know, Manius,’ Lucius bent down to pick up a handful of walnuts, ‘I’m beginning to worry about you. First, it was Turnus you became protective of, now Titus. Both my enemies. It makes me wonder just who you’re loyal to.’

  Manius’s blood was running cold. ‘I’m loyal to you, Lucius, I’ve always been loyal to you.’

  Lucius cracked open one of the walnuts. ‘I’m glad to
hear it. Otherwise, I might be asking Cossus to take you to a whorehouse one night.’

  Lucilla gently pushed back a black curl from Titus’s forehead. He looked as if he were asleep, lying there on the bier in the atrium. Except for the skin, that didn’t look right. There was no pink tinge to it, only a grey clamminess. Her gaze travelled down her son’s body, her throat tightening at the bloody gash in his torso that had stained the edges of the torn tunic. One stab. That had been all it took to take the life of her son.

  She felt the presence of another person behind her. ‘Is that you?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, it’s me,’ Iunius said, putting his hand upon her shoulder.

  ‘I bought a new statue for his birthday next week,’ Lucilla said. ‘You know, the one he said he liked in that workshop near the Tiber.’

  ‘I know,’ Iunius said.

  ‘Should I take it back, do you think?’

  ‘We’ll keep it.’

  ‘Would you like it in your room?’

  ‘Mother,’ he said, turning her around to face him, ‘you know who did this, don’t you?’

  She raised her puffy red eyes to him. ‘A man in the brothel.’

  ‘No,’ Iunius said firmly. ‘It was the King.’

  ‘Lucius?’

  ‘He arranged it, I’m sure of it.’

  Lucilla gripped his hands. ‘Don’t say so, Iunius.’

  ‘Why? Cannot you bear to hear it?’

  ‘It can’t be true. He wouldn’t. His own nephew.’

  ‘Lucius doesn’t care anything for blood, Mother, you know that.’

  ‘How angry you sound.’

  ‘I am angry,’ Iunius growled. ‘And I’m not going to let him get away with it.’

  He moved away but Lucilla lunged and caught hold of him. ‘You think I want to lose another son?’

  His mother’s ferocity made Iunius pause. ‘You can’t mean to let him get away with this? Titus,’ he pointed at his dead brother lying on the bier, ‘was killed because he was speaking out against Lucius. This is what Lucius does to any who oppose him. We are not safe from him, Mother.’