Aemilius made light of the trouble; but then Aemilius had prudently brought a young slave-girl among his baggage.
‘You see, my boy,’ he said airily, ‘we are a band of warriors. If you wanted to take a wife at once you should have joined a Sacred Spring, made up of all the boys and girls born in a particular year.’
‘I couldn’t join a Sacred Spring, because my father made me leave home immediately,’ Marcus answered sulkily. ‘So far your band of warriors has not gone out on a single raid. Band of labourers would be nearer the mark.’
‘Before we start raiding we must build a fort, and make sure of food for the winter. But raiding time is coming, sooner than you think. Four days hence a party will cross the river to steal some Etruscan sheep. Quite soon you will be feasting on roast mutton, and then you will see the point of all this building. We would look silly if we stole sheep and then had nowhere to cook them in safety.’
‘I suppose that’s true. But I didn’t come here to steal sheep. I thought I was joining a band of desperate young men who would pillage the richest cities of Etruria.’
‘That will come; give us time. At present we are only three thousand strong, and that’s not enough to sack a great city. After we have done well for a year or two others will join us. When we have a really big army we shall devastate all Etruria.‘
‘Unless the Etruscans wipe us out first, I suppose. All right, patron, I’m not really grumbling. It’s just that at present I work harder than I used to work on my father’s farm, and get less for my labour. Perhaps brigands always begin slowly, with a lot of hard work at the outset. But that isn’t how it sounds in the old songs about jolly robbers in the greenwood.’
‘It’s harder work to live by the spear than to live by the plough. I suspected as much before I left home, and now I know for certain. But don’t let the King hear you talking in this strain. Though you and I came here to live by robbery, King Romulus thinks that all his followers went to found noble families in his grand new city.’
‘And that’s a good joke, sir, when you come to think of it. How are we to found these families when in this place there are ten men to one woman?’
‘Perhaps that holy jug in the storehouse will prove to be a fountain of wives; one day dozens of beautiful virgins may pop out of it. Seriously, the King is so set on making this an enduring city that he must have some plan for getting wives for us. And in the meantime we are much more comfortable, behind our strong palisade, than an ordinary band of robbers hiding in a damp cave.’
When Marcus left his patron he felt a little comforted. It was something to know that his misgivings were shared by a distinguished young nobleman who had the ear of the King. He would be patient, and work hard until better times came. At least he could sleep soundly, guarded by the palisade.
The first raid undertaken by the new community was only a modified success. They captured a flock of sheep, but in their retreat they were overtaken by the Etruscans, who killed several Romans. King Romulus announced that they must wait until their army had grown stronger before they again provoked their neighbours.
2. Sabine Women
There were a few women in Rome. Some of the young citizens had been married before they came to the new city, and these brought their wives; but men so young must be newly married, and it would be many years before their daughters were old enough to marry fellow-citizens. One citizen, who happened to be a little older than the general run, had been a husband for some years; but Tarpeius held himself aloof from the common herd, and guarded his ten-year-old daughter as though men were savage beasts. Because no one else wanted the post he had been appointed commander of the garrison on the isolated Capitol; there he lived with his wife and only child in unnatural seclusion.
A few whores had arrived, as was only to be expected in a settlement of lusty young warriors. They were not allowed to come inside the palisade, but plied their trade in little shacks set in the marshy ground by the river. They had come to a poor market, where they must take their pay in pork and barley instead of silver and bronze. They were a slatternly crew, plain and elderly. No citizen would admit that he frequented their shacks, and it was good manners to look right through any man encountered there and pretend that he was invisible.
But in the second year of the city men began coming to Rome who did not care in what low haunts they were seen, shameless men without dignity. King Romulus was obsessed with the dangerous weakness of his army, though to his followers it seemed that three thousand Latin spearmen should be able to defend their home against any number of Etruscans. He would do anything to increase his forces. After some opposition he managed to persuade the spearmen to open their ranks to any newcomer who could fight. In the Asylum, a collection of flimsy huts below the Palatine and outside the true city, any ablebodied man was welcome and no questions might be asked about his past. Some of the new recruits bore brands which marked them as runaway slaves; others were fugitives from justice, criminals guilty of incest or sacrilege, misdeeds which brought down on them the wrath of the gods. But if they looked like stout fighting-men King Romulus admitted them; his celeres bullied the original settlers, decent Latins who had come only to better themselves, into making room for these scoundrels.
When the time came round to celebrate the fourth birthday of its foundation the new city was ready to burst apart from the stress of long disappointment, uncongenial companionship, poverty, hard work, and enforced celibacy. In particular the lesser spearmen came to the assembly which opened the holiday celebrations determined to make a protest. They would insist that the army march out to undertake the siege of Veii, the nearest and weakest of the wealthy Etruscan cities but regrettably, in addition, a very strong fortress. Otherwise they would withdraw the allegiance which the King had obtained from them by false pretences, and march north in a body to take service as mercenaries in the everlasting war between the Etruscans and the savages of Liguria.
They started to proclaim their grievances as soon as the King appeared; it was an additional grievance that nowadays he went surrounded by gimcrack emblems of royal state borrowed from Etruria, emblems which meant nothing to true Latin spearmen. But it was difficult to carry a public meeting against King Romulus.
From the start the King had governed by the simple method of dividing his followers; he could count on the support of every man who had been promoted by his favour. The hundred heads of families whom he had called into his Council of Fathers were solid for him; so were the three hundred young men of property who formed the cavalry of the army, for the horses which lent them distinction were the private possessions of the King. In addition there were the three hundred celeres. No one liked these young toughs, but a great many timid spear-men were afraid of them. In an unorganised assembly of three thousand voters seven hundred of the most weighty citizens were ranged in support of the King.
The opposition soon saw that to make speeches against the King would get them nowhere; but Romulus, that experienced leader, knew it was better to persuade discontent than to crush it. He spoke frankly.
‘Spearmen, you have endured without complaint four years of hard labour. Don’t throw away the reward of your work by weakening at the last moment. I know what you want. You want plunder, and women with whom to share your plunder. Well, soon you will have both. This year we shall be strong enough to sack an Etruscan city; and within a month I shall send an embassy to the Sabine villages to seek wives for my warriors. It’s no good asking Alba again. They refused last year, just because I had that unfortunate trouble with my brother; they say our whole city is polluted by fratricide, too unclean for intermarriage with god-fearing Latins. One day we’ll show them their mistake! As though by defending the wall of our holy city, at the cost of family affection, I could anger the gods who guard Rome! When we flourish they will beg for our alliance! But all that lies in the future. What you want are wives, this summer.’
‘We shall get them from the Sabines,’ he continued. ‘They are our co
usins and neighbours. Their ways are not exactly our ways; they squat in villages and don’t appreciate the advantages of city life. But they worship our gods, and they speak our language – even though they speak it very badly!’
The last words came out on a comical Sabine accent. The crowd laughed, and Romulus knew he had won.
‘So that’s decided,’ he went on. ‘You should shout Yes to show that you agree with my plans.’ Roars of agreement. ‘Now today we shall march in procession through our city to the templum where no less than twelve vultures appeared to prophesy our foreordained success. Let your worship be reverent and dignified, worthy of this city founded by the son of a god, in furtherance of the expressed will of the gods.’
In ritual silence they marched to a splendid sacrifice, which promised a fine feast of roast beef at supper time; that put them all in a good temper. Romulus intoned the prayers with an eloquence and conviction which was enough in itself to hearten them. All the same, Marcus felt that in some way he had been bamboozled. That evening, sitting replete by the cooking-fire, he felt brave enough to grumble to his neighbour.
‘It’s funny how in the end we always agree to something that we don’t really want. No one could call us the slaves of a tyrant. King Romulus always explains his proposals, and promises that if we disagree with his plan he will try something else. But somehow when it comes to the point you can’t go against him. I don’t want to crawl to the Sabines for the right to woo their daughters, a right they should feel flattered to grant to Latins as soon as we ask for it. I don’t want to sit down under that insult from our own Latin kin. Perhaps we would do wrong to make war on the cities of our fathers; though that’s what they deserve. But there’s no reason why we shouldn’t raid the Etruscans tomorrow and carry off a few of their women. I’m sick of lying alone in my blankets, listening to five other men snoring in the hut. If we had one girl for half a dozen of us it would be better than nothing. Yet when the King had spoken I voted for him. Do you think he has us all bewitched? They say he is something more than an ordinary mortal man.’
‘Who say so? Only a few soothsayers and old women,’ answered his neighbour. ‘I come from Alba, and I can remember him as a boy; he’s only six years older than me. But he’s a cunning leader, and I’m content to follow him. It’s easy to see why he always persuades the assembly. It’s because he never permits anyone else to make a formal speech. Oh, he doesn’t forbid it. At every meeting he invites anyone who has something to say to come up on the platform. But somehow there’s always an obstacle. This morning, if you had tried to incite us to immediate war against the Etruscans the King would have cut you short by reminding us that the gods were waiting for our sacrifice. Before the next meeting those celeres of his would have beaten you up, unless they charged you with some crime that would earn you a formal flogging before the whole assembly. We never hear the opposition, and so we always agree with the King.’
‘I hadn’t noticed that until you said it, but now I see it’s true,’ said Marcus in some surprise. ‘But do you think my idea is a good one?’
‘No,’ the other replied. ‘There isn’t an Etruscan city we are strong enough to sack, and we can’t afford to have them attacking us in return. Besides, warriors lose their courage if they lie with women.’
‘That’s what the elders said in my village, but I don’t believe it. We had a brigand living in the woods, such a mighty warrior that none of our men would face him; and he was always raping women he found in the forest.’
‘He might have been even stronger if he had lived chaste. It’s not a thing you can prove, one way or the other.’
‘Well, if I can get hold of a girl I shall lie with her, even if there’s to be a battle next morning. If I had stayed at home I would be married by now. It doesn’t harm your courage if you are properly married.’
‘I would have been married, too, if I’d had the sense to stay at home,’ said his neighbour gloomily. ‘I came here to better myself, and after four years I’m no richer than on the day the city was founded. We have built a fine palisade, though. One day this may be a real city.’
‘A real city! That’s what you all say, and I’m sick of hearing it. I joined what I thought was a band of brigands; and all we do is build for a posterity which can never exist until we find men willing to let us marry their daughters. I’ve had enough feasting for one day. I shall take a jug of wine to my hut, and drink myself to sleep where I can’t hear these fools cheering for King Romulus.’
But as the spring advanced Marcus felt more content; for Aemilius had been chosen one of the envoys to the Sabines, and Marcus was to go with him as a spearman of his bodyguard.
It was an imposing embassy, even though it came from a city of young men, a city just four years old. The twelve envoys were lavishly bearded, though their beards showed no grey hairs; the escort were tall warriors, well armed, and Marcus displayed proudly the fine sword he had taken from a dead Etruscan who had failed to guard his sheep. They brought no present of gold, for there was hardly any gold in Rome; but they drove before them a troop of fine bulls, laden with skins of strong wine. The Sabines ought to be glad to see them.
The Sabines were a nation of tough, old-fashioned warriors who thought it unmanly to sleep huddled behind a wall. Their villages, scattered among the glens of their wooded mountains, were moved every two or three years as the soil became exhausted. But in other ways their manners and customs were those of their Latin neighbours, and they spoke a dialect of the same language. Such old-fashioned but respectable rustics should be proud to intermarry with the citizens of a thriving and lucky new city.
Standing in an open glade, the council of Sabine chieftains listened impassively to the speeches of the Roman ambassadors. They prodded the beasts that made up the present, and commanded that they be led away for sacrifice; but they did not praise them. Finally they withdrew to consult together, and when they returned it was announced that the answer of the whole Sabine nation would be given by a single spokesman.
The spokesman who came forward was a gnarled, burly warrior, his eyes peeping out from a tangle of brown beard. The Romans noticed a twinkle in those eyes as he began, and nerved themselves to agree to a pretty stiff bride-price; evidently the Sabine knew he was about to say something outrageous.
His first phases were elegant, and must have been carefully composed; although his outlandish dialect made them hard to comprehend. He explained that the Sabines were gratified to see such a fine new city on their borders; they admired the spirit of their Latin neighbours, who had at last decided to retaliate against the raiding of the greedy Etruscans. Of course such a city must not be permitted to decay, for lack of children to replace the original founders. But the mighty King Romulus had the remedy in his hands, and it was odd that he had not seen what was evident to mere rustic Sabines, notoriously slower in their wits than clever Latins. Already King Romulus had set up an Asylum for fugitives from justice, to the great benefit of his noble and broadminded city. Let him found another Asylum, a refuge for unsuccessful whores, runaway wives, and other female castaways. Thus his new citizens would find worthy mates, and there would be no need for the daughters of respectable Sabine villagers to go abroad and marry foreign husbands. The speaker stepped back into the group of chiefs, to show that he had no more to say.
Aemilius turned to his bodyguard. ‘We are envoys. We may not draw our swords,’ he muttered savagely. The Romans retired from the clearing with exaggerated dignity, in silence.
When this was reported to the assembly of Roman spearmen there were angry shouts for immediate war against the whole nation of the Sabines; but King Romulus himself seemed more amused than annoyed at the insult. He told his people that for the present they had affairs of more importance than a war undertaken on a mere point of honour. The spring sowing must be finished, then they would raid the flocks of the Etruscans (though they must be cautious, for they were not yet strong enough to capture a walled city), and after that would come
the harvest. Not until they were sure of food for the winter could they start once more looking round for wives.
During the summer, while spearmen sat idle in the sun, watching their barley grow, rumours began to spread that there was something lacking in the religious ritual of the city, something that must be put right without delay. At first these stories irritated Marcus; for he thought they already spent too much time on religion, and that for all their prayer and sacrifice the gods owed them more than a bowl of daily porridge and a thatched roof, which was the most any Roman had got out of the new city so far. Then he noticed that the celeres were the source of these rumours, and he listened more carefully. The ideas of King Romulus should be taken seriously.
The celeres were saying that this year they must hold a proper harvest festival. Certainly they had tried earnestly to thank the gods after each harvest in their new home; but last year the yield had been poor in spite of their efforts. They must be omitting something of vital importance.
When earnest students of religion had got that far the next step followed inevitably. In the Latin villages where most citizens had been reared women and unmarried girls played an essential part in the annual harvest festival. It was common knowledge that once upon a time the sowing and reaping of grain had been entirely the affair of the women, as it still was among the savages of the south; only the coming of the newfangled plough had made it man’s business. At a proper harvest festival married women ought to sprinkle on the fields whatever it was they kept in those mysterious baskets of theirs, and a choir of young girls ought to sing the hymn of the unsown field.
Since in Rome they lacked women there was only one way to put things right; they must beg help from their neighbours. At the next meeting of the assembly, when the idea was already lodged in the minds of most of the spearmen, King Romulus outlined a plan. In the autumn they would hold a great festival in honour of the god Consus, who looks after everything kept in store; and to this festival they would invite their neighbours. If the Sabines, and the people of three little nearby towns, mongrel Latins ruled by an Etruscan nobility, accepted the invitation they were to bring their wives and daughters. In the morning the women and girls would bless the fields in their secret female way which no man can understand; in the afternoon they would watch a horse-race in the marshy ground below the city; and in the evening there would be a banquet, with plenty of wine.
Founding Fathers Page 3