Insurgent of Rome

by Ken Farmer

  In a short while, the Steward was pointing a servant to place a jug of wine, and cups, and several platters of fruit and sweetmeats on the low table, then both left the two brothers to converse. Rather than recline in the Roman fashion, Aulius leaned back against a large pillow, that he might continually view the door and the stairway to the roof. Now, quietly, he asked, "Have you any knowledge of the family of the gens Julia?" At the shake of the head, he continued. "It is a noble family, dwelling in the city of Alba Longa - not vastly powerful, but of a goodly genesis. There is a young son, by coincidence with the same nomen as yourself - Julius. His full appellation is Gaius Julius Caesar, and is nephew to the General and Consul, Gaius Marius." Now Julius nodded. He well knew of the famous General, skilled in war and with a string of victories under his name that required a scroll of considerable length to list. He had also been elected Consul seven times - a feat unprecedented in all the history of Rome.

  "He is dead now, is he not?" was his comment. The tutorings of his youth gave much talk of the man, but little of such learning was still in the memory of the young Roman.

  "Aye. He passed to his ancestors about ten years ago. But, this Gaius Caesar is his heir, and highly married to... I disremember, but the Domina comes from a powerful family." He took a drink, then looked out over the city, giving order to his thoughts, then, "You will remember of the strife between Marius and the General Sulla, when the former invested Rome and tried to liquidate any supporters of the latter. Only the death of the Consul prevented the descent of the city into complete civil war. And in fact, our family was fortunate to have stayed out of the violence. Even a distance of twice a thousand stadia does not guarantee safety when heads are being taken for cause."

  Julius sipped from his own cup, trying to both follow the explanations of his brother and recall the lessons of history, given to a youth, ten years or more into the past. "And Sulla himself, died... as it were?" They had heard the news at some porting, but even tidings of such significance lose much value when one is thousands of stadia away from the happening.

  "Aye. Two years ago it was. But, the significance is that the man with your name, Gaius Julius, was the nephew to Marius... I said that did I not? And when Sulla returned to Rome with his army, he considered the young man to be a danger to his intentions of becoming dictator. Only the interventions of the family, on the distaff side, and the Vestal Virgins, apparently kept him from being executed. Even so, Gaius was stripped of home, wealth and property, and fled to the eastern lands - joining some army in the domain of Cilica." Another sip, then, "Apparently, even in his youth, only a handful more than yourself, he has shown to be a goodly soldier, winning laurels for his deeds in the martial realm."

  "And... His needs now are apparently within our power to fill?"

  "Aye. And this is where the tale descends into something that might be told in the Forum by a bard on the cobblestones." He leaned over and spoke even more quietly. "On his attempted return to the east, his ship was taken by pirates and he is being held for ransom on some obscure island."

  Now both just sat and drank for the moment, allowing Julius to consume all that he had been told. Until... "If you are suggesting that the Petrel sail into the cove of the reavers, storm the camp, killing all that resist, then flee with the captive, then I have apparently given too much bluster about the skill of my men." He was japing, of course, but still...

  His brother smiled. "Aye. If any could, it would be your ship and band of cutthroats." Now he grinned. "But, nay. The commission is of far less need of swinging iron and vastly more of trust." Now, almost in a whisper, he said, "The ransom is fifty talents."

  Julius looked at his brother for a moment, wide-eyed and stunned at the statement. His first retort would have been at the top of his voice, had he not intercepted it before it was uttered. But, his quiet reply of disbelief was emphatic enough. "Fifty talents of gold! That is ludicrous. The fee-coin for the King of Olympus would be less! Is there even so much gold in all of Rome? And its domains?"

  Aulius waved his hands in interruption of the disbelief. "Nay! Nay! The pirates are from the Greek domains and the fee is to be paid in silver." Now his brother raised his spread hands in front of a wry smile. "I am a merchant, and such does not dictate to the shipper of lading, but merely takes the fee for delivery." He leaned over and actually whispered. "When one is talking about an amount of silver - or gold - that would purchase a kingdom, then it is imperative that one trusts the deliverer." A pause, then, "Apparently the friends and families have been collecting the silver for some time, and will have need of a trusted courier..."

  "Myself."

  Now Aulius gave a wry shrug. "I would do so," he jested, "but likely the silver would vanish beyond the Pillars of Hercules with my known skill in ship-manning." More seriously, he continued, "I do not insist on the commission, brother. There will be no blame from me if you do not wish to sail into the lair of such scum. Mayhap they would take both the silver and the Petrel. And yourself, to send yet another missive for ransom to myself."

  Julius shook his head. "Nay. Pirates are an evil dross on the sea, taking both life and coin without even slight concern for their victims, but any contract for ransom is considered sacred. Should some band of reavers give breakage to the agreement, taking value and refusing to complete the transaction, the livelihood of all pirates would suffer. Once the tale of abrogation reached across the waters, their fellows across the entire sea would hunt them down and make good the contract, and mayhap with the heads of the duplicitous pirates delivered to the injured party as gesture of apology." Now he paused for thought, then, "Why us? Is there no shipper in Rome with a sound vessel?"

  "Aye, of that I have no doubt, but... A cargo of such weight of silver, even if much less than the assumed amount, is a prize indeed, and even an honest ship-master might find the pull of greed sufficient to overcome his scruples. And I do not even speak of his crew."

  He held up a hand for pause, as he rung a small bell with the other. Behind Julius, Virnius appeared at the summons, seeing the gesture toward the low table, then turning to call orders down the stairs. Quickly, the wine jug was replaced with another and they were alone again. "Ours is a shipping house of three generations, and without blemish of honesty for the entirety of that time. Not only is that reputation widely known in every port that we service, but... I have given guarantee of delivery if we take the commission."

  Julius just stared over the city in thought for the moment. He had little use for wealth, partly from never knowing the lack of such, and riches were not the master of his being. Still, he would dislike seeing his family reduced to living in some farming house. Finally, he said, "Can we stand the loss, should the Petrel founder in route?"

  "Aye. I know that you care little for such plebeian topics as income and expenses and such, but it behooves you to at least speak on occasion to the senior Numerarius of our house. How else would you have detection of your brother spending our family into impoverishment?" He held up his hand to stop the protest. "Nay, I jest, but to your question, it would be a blow, but with little practical effect. Our family is the second wealthiest in Capua, and would be so in the upper reaches of even Rome itself."

  "Then, if we have so much, then why our effort to produce more?" As did his brother, he waved away any answer. "It is my poor jape to your own, but... Why take such a risk to gain wealth that might be earned with more benign risks?"

  "That is what I have always admired about you, brother. You see the world as it is, without shading or cozen of belief. But, for yourself in your travels, are not pirates and such reavers a risk that must be passed, else you must retire from the sea and become the Caupo of a taburna? Such is the same with men on the land, even if such risks do not come from assaultive ships and men with blades. There are many in the land who would take our wealth, should they find a way to do so. Only part of my days are spent in counting coin. Just as important is the gain of alliances and agreements with all who are in touc
h with our domain - not only the magistrates and other noble houses, but the merchants and factors of every port we give call."

  "And this young... Caesar, is such a personage?"

  His brother shook his head. "Nay. He is much like yourself, even beyond the sameness of nomen. He apparently also has feet that are given to wander, his abilities in conflict are considerable and it is obvious that there is much cleverness on his chine. I have little doubt that Rome will hear more of the young man before his dotage. In any case, a successful liaison with himself - and his family and friends - would be of more value than gold in the strongboxes."

  The young Captain pondered on the surprising - nay, stupendous commission that was being laid before him. Interesting it would be, without doubt, but... He looked at his brother, then said, "You know, of course, that such a mission cannot be kept secret, and will be the topic of gab in every taburna in the land. And that every fisherman with a leaking boat will have dreams of boarding the Petrel to obtain the wealth of Croesus."

  "And that is why the friends of the Caesar family are desiring a shipper who can supply not only honesty but a swift vessel and a well-armed crew." Now, Aulus leaned back, then finished with, "Think on the proposal, brother. I have not yet received word that the amount of metal has been collected, and in any event, nothing can happen until the Petrel hoves into the port of Neápolis. And as to that, there is little haste - I had given that your return would not be for months."

  With his thoughts swirling as in a heavy blow at sea, Julius walked to the back of the house, looking for the boy. In surprise at one of the nobles of the house entering her domain, the Cocua pointed in answer to his question. Around the corner, at a table, Pontiki was finishing what had to be the unsurpassed meal of his lifetime. During the voyage, he had eaten the standard fair of sailors - on the Petrel, the repasts being of some goodsomeness, if not such as one would find in a shoreside cookery. Of course, to the boy, used to a life of rummaging in refuse piles for his infrequent meals, it was as if he had been transported early to the slopes of Olympus. But now, in a house larger than any he had ever seen - or even imagined - and being fed hot and delicious viands by the female cook, was...

  "Come, boy. We will find ourselves some repose, in Roman style." Pontiki looked with regret at the mounds of uneaten food until Julius said, with some humor, "Nay, boy. Socellia will still be here when we return, and her larder will not be empty. Besides, from the look of your platter, you are in danger of foundering from too heavy a lading."

  Leaving from the back door, they moved along the broad avenue to the Therma of the Swan - his favorite bathing place since old enough to enter the small pool for children at the edge of the main baths.

  Roman bathhouses usually had no restrictions as to the stratum of the person in entry. A common laborer could enter the opulent Therma of Apollo, or the Swan, and in contrast, a noble could pay his single copper coin to take the waters in the common pools of the Mons Oppius quarter. In practicality, few Plebeians, other than wealthy merchants, would - or could - pay the silver denarius as the fee of entry in the noble bathhouses, and of course, it was just as unlikely that a Patrician would be seen in the pools of the commoners.

  The boy could swim, of course, having waded and sounded the boats in the harbor of Antioch since his beginning - thus a pool of placid water was of no consequence. His age was below that of being allowed admittance into the main waters and the youngster was guided to the small pool, guarded by a servant to give watch over such that none not might founder without notice.

  Now, looking around at the other bathers, Julius found himself in the waters with a few friends and many acquaintances. He exchanged greetings with all, giving his absence of the last year with vague assurances that such were just ordinary voyages in support of his family. In the lateness of the hour, he decided only to enter the tepidarium - the basin with warm water, and the largest of the three pools of varying temperature. Here, he relaxed and listened to the conversations around him, and was given surprise that the topic was the same as had hastened his recall to Capua.

  Eventually, an elderly man floated over to bob in front of Julius - a Lanista of Capua, and the owner of the largest ludus gladiatorium in the city - indeed, mayhap in the entirety of Latium. Started by his Father before him, the training and trade in gladiators for the amusement of the populace of Rome had made this noble the richest person in Capua, even beyond that of the House of Clavius, which made him a wealthy man, indeed. Even his household was a declaration of his affluence. The dwelling and surrounding compound of the Clavius family was large in itself, but three of such would have fit inside the marble walls of that belonged to the Lanista. Indeed, the over-ornateness of the appearance from the street led many visitors to the city to assume they were passing a temple to Jupiter.

  Corpulent, petty in his needs for service, and given to unhidden disdain for any below his stature - which, to himself, were all others in the city - the slave-trainer was not a man whose friendship had been sought by Julius during his growth years in the city. Still, the man - with the nomen of Gnaeus Cornelius Lentulus Batiatus - could often be seen in the offices of the family, discussing this commerce or that with Aulius and, many times, at the evening banquets, given by the Domina of this house and that.

  The training compound was fifty stadia to the east and in a comparative wilderness. Julius had only seen it once, as a child, taken along by his father on some trip or another. His remembrance was that of naked men, muscular and browned from the sun, wielding weapons of every description in their daily rituals of drill. Exciting it was to a boy, and it was only later, as a young man that he realized the purpose of the fighting men. The invitations to the games in Rome by a merchant-customer of the family allowed him to see the reality of the sport, where his distaste for the unneeded carnage and waste of good men - all in the prime of life and condition - instantly rose to the fore. He never attended such again.

  His distaste for such cruel wastage of men extended to the fat proprietor who trained such, but he did not wish to complicate the needs of his brother by making an enemy of a powerful man. Thus, he forced a noncommittal nod as the oldster gave his salutations. "My greetings to you, young Clavius. I am glad to see your body in wholeness after traversing the far reaches of the Great Sea. Mayhap you have brought back some ravishing siren from the exotic lands as mate, to begin your own household."

  Julius politely smiled at the jest, saying, "Nay. I have yet to find such that would be satisfied with a husband who is seen only at the equinoxes of the year."

  The man smiled also, then said, "I had word that you are just arrived. Have you heard of the news of the abduction of the scion of the Caesar household?"

  Of course he had, but the man meant from the many conversations in the baths. It was the only converse that he had heard since entering the waters. It was interesting in the fact that Julius had heard of neither the man nor the family before this day. "Aye, Sos. One can scarcely fail to gain the news. It would appear that such is the only topic of conversation in the city."

  "Mayhap the enterprise of Clavius is to be used to deliver the ransom." Julius kept his face in hold at the leading question. "Such would seem to be a commission giving to your need of stimulation."

  Now the young Roman shrugged. "Such a matter is a question for my brother. I merely have need to point my ship where he requires."

  The man smiled, giving no suggestion as to his belief or nay in the reply. "You are coming, of course, to my house on the morrow evening for the fête?" This was an actual question. "Your presence would be a seasoning to the usual droll attenders - and not least among the feminae."

  Julius was long beyond the usual age of marriage, many being consummated in a pair of years after taking the toga virilis in the coming of manhood. In most part, it was because his returns to the city of his family were seldom closer than a half-year between, and he had little reason to take a wife that would be seen with less frequency than needed to r
emember her features. But... To the noble Matrons of the city - with marriageable daughters - his being a handsome member of a wealthy household overcame the deficiencies in his presence. He had not been told of such fest for the evening, but knew that such rituals were common among the nobles. And as his ship was still far to the south, there was little for his use until it stood into port... "Aye, Sos. If my family is in attendance, then I am sure that the Domina will insist on my inclusion."

  Chapter 11

  Julius had some appearance of a Captain this evening. On board the ship his usual garb was a faded tunic, sometimes with the addition of a straw-woven sun hat should the day be hot. He had never had use for display of habiliments as seemed necessary for the men - and women - of Capua. All seemed to give need to exceed their neighbors in display of finery. To himself, to garb oneself in hot wool robes, wrapped innumerable times about the body - and on a night of warmness - was... ludicrous. The toga might be a goodsome symbol of authority in the Senate, but for mere impressment of others it was useless to himself.