His words brought a crescendo of calls and booing as well as a few coins thrown at his head as he stood defiantly and snarled into the Senate room. “Argue against it?” he screamed. “We have lost. The gods have forsaken us. Not because of our poor soldiers” he shouted as the noise continued to rise. “But because we did not follow the auguries and we did not allow the gods their sacrifices when Fabius broke the sacred oath.” He twisted at a call. “No, Faxitius, it is true” he screamed back as the Senate house dissembled into a cacophony of noise.
“Senators” waved a balding man whose face appeared as close to that of a skeleton as one could imagine, his deep eye sockets and tight skin looking as if he had just risen from his grave to grimace at the faces of the assembled men. “Senators” he croaked, thumping the thick walking stick he held in his left hand onto the flags of the floor. The thudding echoed off the ceiling and after a few moments caused the men to, finally, quieten. The skeletal man shook his head as he stepped forwards to the centre of the circular meeting room. His old eyes were like two bright orbs in a creased and shrivelled head. Senator Marcus Papirius looked out through sad eyes at the leading men of Rome. He swallowed, his throat apple moving slowly as every eye in the room saw it rise, his lightly oiled grey beard moving with it, and followed his face along its course as he slowly moved his gaze around the Senators.
“Marcus Manlius has suggested we barricade the Capitoline Hill.” His voice was a low whisper, but every ear heard him clearly as he spoke, the silence echoing around the room as his old eyes wondered from man to man. “Others have suggested we defend the city” he added with a glum look on his face. “You must decide which course of action you wish to take.” He glanced to the closed door. “Some have already left Rome” he said with a slow shake of his head. “Others will no doubt follow” he added as his head bowed slowly, his chin falling to his chest as his voice trailed to a halt. His moist eyes looked up at the men around him and he pointed to the doors. “Go now if you feel our gods have deserted us” he rasped, his voice edged with emotion. “Go now and save your skins. Run for Veii or wherever the hordes are running” he said before he straightened and set his jaw firmly, waiting with his hand still pointing, shakily, at the door. A few scrapes and shuffles broke out after a moment, followed by more as men rose and raced for the door, their white togas pulled back by their friends as angry curses and scuffles broke out.
“Let them go” shouted Papirius as the men streamed through the door, the bright sunlight breaking in as the door was thrown open. The sounds of the people of Rome deserting their city thundered into the temple breaking the silence of the debate amongst the Senate.
The last man to reach the door turned his head to the older man and stared at him defiantly before rushing out into the street and pulling the door closed behind him, the echo of the closing door filled the silence in the room.
“Rome has been my family’s home for generations” said the old man, his bald head nodding. “I will not leave her like those cowards.” His voice shook with anger as his clenched fist rose to be level with his shoulder and he snarled at the remaining men. “Rome has seen great victories and great losses. It will prevail because our gods demand it is so. This punishment” he said as he looked up at the Pontifex Maximus, his golden chains glinting in the low light from the high windows “for that is surely what it is, must be appeased and we must prevail.” His words maintained the silence as heads bowed in the room. “The plebeians leave in their thousands, boarding their doors and windows before they stream across the bridge and head for the forests of the Janiculum. They can leave” his voice grew louder at these words. “Let them take their baggage and screaming brats from our walls. When my family” his eyes looked up into the Senate “and yours, men of Rome” he said nodding his head as he caught the eyes of the remaining men “founded this city with the Father Romulus they sacrificed to the gods and they gave us their love. We were wrong to ignore them” he said as his head fell to his chest again. “Wrong” he said as the men in the room nodded agreement. “We have lost our way, Men of Rome. The Tribunes did not set the auspices, did not treat with the gods and ask their favour before battle. Lucius Furius-Medullinus has told us this” he said with a hand raised to Lucius, sat three rows back in the crowd. “We have failed the very gods who gave us this ground, who built this city and whose favour we must gain again” he added vehemently as he tapped the flagstones with his foot. “We must remain, and we must face this disaster as true Romans. We will prevail. I agree with Manlius. Barricade the Capitol. Take all the grain from the stores and weapons to the temple of Jupiter. Appoint leaders here, now and organise the work to defend the Capitol Hill. Take all able men, the women and children. But above all, take the Senate and save Rome for Rome is the Senate. Without you men making the decisions, given to us with the blessings of the gods, Rome is nothing more than the barbarians who come to our door. Save Rome gentlemen. Save Rome” he said as he stared up at the silent faces around him.
Low murmuring spread as the men of Rome began to consider the words of Papirius. The noise level grew steadily, though no angry voices could be heard. Some men shifted seats to discuss matters with friends and neighbours, others sitting silently where they were, their faces grey as they took in the words.
“Gentlemen” came a loud voice. “Gentlemen” said the voice again as a heavily built man stepped down the few stone steps towards the centre of the room. “You all know me?” he said with a broad smile on his gaunt looking face, a face that had changed so much since many of the men had last seen it. His bright intelligent eyes flashed behind long grey eyebrows, thick and unkempt from months of being confined indoors. He limped slightly as he stepped to Papirius and clasped hands with the older man, their eyes locking for a moment before he turned to the room and perused the many faces remaining in the temple. “Senator Papirius is right” he said. “We have much to do to organise the defences of the Capitol. Yet I fear that there is not enough grain for more than five months of siege for all the families. And” he called as he raised his hands to a few dissenting voices as he waited for silence. “And we must expect a siege” he added. “For we will be moving all the treasures of the city to the Capitol, our gods will come with us” he looked to the Pontifex as he spoke “and we must have room for livestock and water. We must prepare a military campaign, gentlemen, for that is what it is.” The men in the room sat in silence as the words rang true around them. Any defence would need provisions and weapons.
“Gentlemen” continued the Senator. “We must make decisions here and now as to who will go to the Capitol and who will not” he said as his eyes narrowed. “Many are fleeing to the empty city of Veii and some of us may still have to do this” he added as murmurs went around the room. “It makes sense to consider the options” he said, loudly, as one man stood to protest. “You know as well as I do, Coxo, that failure to plan is what will defeat us” he said coldly as the man sat back in his seat with a frown. “We must decide who will go to Veii and who will defend the Capitol” he said as his shoulders remained firm and he stared at the silent Senators.
“What of the gods?” Horatius Pulvillus said as he stood and looked across to Folius, the Pontifex Maximus.
Folius stood from his seat and nodded to the men around him. “The gods are angry, as Papirius has said.” As he spoke, he sighed deeply and his face was cast down to the floor. “Yet the auguries have given us a clear indication that with the right sacrifices and a return to the love of the gods they will not forsake us. Rome will be here after the Gauls leave” he said, his voice becoming powerful and deep as his eyes rose to look directly at Pulvillus. “I have already ordered the Quirinal priests to dig pits for the lesser treasures to be buried, the vestals to do the same. The gods desire us to maintain the rituals and the ceremonies. We must transfer all the sacred objects to the Temple of Jupiter quickly and bless the land” he added as the men nodded. “I cannot say that the decision to make Fabius and his brothers
Tribunes has angered the gods and caused our losses” he added as many of the Senators grumbled at his words. “But the evidence suggests that the anger of the gods needs a special sacrifice to ensure that Rome remains true and strong” he said as silence stretched into the room.
“What sacrifice?” Pulvillus asked, his voice trembling.
“Devotio” said the Pontifex, his deep voice echoing in the silence of the room.
************
Chapter 10
Narcius glanced ahead at the sight of a small dust cloud rising from the plain half an hour from the resting men. He gulped down a mouthful of foul-tasting water and stood, stretching his aching back as he glanced over his shoulder at the seated men. The closest men looked back at him with a sudden fear in their eyes as their leader’s face took on an urgent grimace.
“Get the men up” he said slowly as he stepped forward and placed a hand on his sword, the grime of a days forced marching still showing on the scabbard. Calls rang out along the line of soldiers as they swiftly stood and began to deploy into their units. Narcius looked back along the line, four hundred and seventy-three men of his thousand still remaining. He’d lost a few to wounds from Allia and a handful to desertion since he’d turned the men towards Ardea where he knew Marcus would welcome them. He peered into the distance. He’d sent men ahead to Marcus’ villa to tell him of the disaster at the river and to inform him that his troops were heading in their direction, but for a full day there had been no news and the men were getting jumpy. Several Gallic raiding parties had followed them as far as the low hills, but none had, thankfully, attacked them as they struggled on foot towards the town where Marcus had moved to his self-imposed exile.
Narcius clenched his teeth in anger as he thought about how Lucius’ words had been ignored by Sulpicius. How the man had been caught unprepared and how badly he had treated the Eagles, Camillus’ best troops, the victors of Veii. The dust cloud remained low in the sky as he decided to press the men on ahead. Whoever it was that was heading towards them it was not the Gauls, they had been sighted moving off towards Rome in their thousands. The dead, his scouts had said, left to rot where they lay. The news had sent shivers down the spines of the Romans. To have your body left on the battlefield would mean your shade would walk the earth forever, left to moan into the empty night and call for someone to release the spirit by burning or burying the body. Narcius called a sharp order and the men moved into line, the voices of the many newly promoted Centurions calling for their men to prepare to march.
“Lanatus” said Narcius as a young man with jet black hair and startling green eyes came across to him. “Take ten men ahead at a run and come back when you know who that is” he ordered with a nod in the direction of the dust could. After a smart salute the soldier had dropped his shield and called several men forward to follow him off at a trot down the thinly marked path. Narcius sighed. Lanatus was one of the lucky ones who had escaped from the centre line of the fighting, beating a retreat with several other good men. Narcius had taken them under his wing as he clustered as many survivors as he could to the Eagles and set off towards Ardea where, he hoped, they could rest, reorganise and return to Rome.
After ten minutes of leg numbing marching Narcius saw the thin frame of one of Lanatus’ men jogging across the ground towards him, his demeanour showing that the dust cloud they had seen presented no danger. Stepping out ahead of the men he quickened his pace until he reached the returning soldier, who saluted smartly. Narcius struggled to remember the man’s name so simply asked him to report.
“Sir. The Optio has asked me to inform you that the small group approaching are wearing the colours of Marcus Furius Camillus. He will await their arrival and inform them that you are approaching” he took three deep breaths, his legs shaking from the exertions of the run.
“Thank you” Narcius said, still unable to grasp the man’s name from the back of his mind. He pulled a small water skin from his belt and handed it across. “Relax and re-join the men” he said with a smile as he started to relax himself. It had to be Marcus. He would certainly want to come out and see what was happening and get the news first hand, but Narcius wondered what he actually knew. Maybe some survivors of the battle at the Allia had already reached Ardea. He took the returned water skin and drank slowly, the bitter water causing him to wince as he swilled the liquid around his mouth and spat it out. With a deep breath he called back to the men to continue to march and turned his face back towards the road to Ardea.
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“What do you think?” Brennus said as he sat astride his tall horse and looked across the wide bridge which spanned the fast-flowing brown water. Beyond the bridge the gates of Rome stood wide open and the low walls appeared to hold no defenders.
Mantinus shrugged and Belinus frowned as a few of the other Gallic leaders simply stared at the bridge. The Gauls had arrived over an hour earlier, the first warriors to arrive setting up pickets to watch as people crossed the bridge and headed away up the steep hill to the watching Gauls’ left. The steady stream had dried up over the past hour, but small groups continued to appear and move slowly up the hill and disappeared into the woods high up on the horizon. Rome appeared silent. He frowned at the sight. The wooden bridge seemed to be wide enough for three men on horses to cross and would be easily defensible if the Romans wished to hold it for a day or so. He puzzled over the empty looking city.
“Is it a trap?” he asked to no-one in particular.
The city beyond the bridge spread across every space he could see, the walls only just higher than a man could reach as they crawled up a variety of sharp inclines and slowly rising hills. He could see the wood and stone of many buildings and the deep reddish brown of terracotta tiles on roofs as well as some low roofed buildings away on the rise to his right. What looked like a massive temple stood tall to the left of the bridge, high and overlooking the city with a sheer cliff before it and another deep ridge to its left topped with several red roofed buildings.
“Maybe we killed them all at the river?” Belinus said as his eyes continued to wander across the scene.
“When you came here you said there were thousands upon thousands of these Romans” said Brennus without looking at his brother. “Surely there must still be thousands waiting within the walls to trap us?” he asked warily.
Nobody answered.
“Send scouts around the city, brother” he said. “We will camp here with this stream at our back and their walls to our front” he waved an arm and looked up at the sky. “It will be dark in an hour, better to enter this city of Rome when the sun rises in the sky” he added as he saw the glances of the other leaders, some clearly lusting to get into the city. He flicked at his nose with his thumb as he leant forward on his horse. “And get me three men to go over that bridge and sneak into the city tonight to scout out the defences” he said as he watched the reactions of his men from the corner of his eye. Nods followed his words and shoulders relaxed. “Tomorrow we will eat like kings” he said. “Kings of Rome” he laughed as the leaders grinned and joined his laughter.
As the soldiers moved away to return to their tribes Brennus motioned conspiratorially to Aengus and Belinus to move forward, the druid taking the lead from his action.
“Cousin” he half whispered to Aengus. “What do you think of this stone city with its high temples?” he asked.
“The gods must have forsaken them for certain for them to have left the gates open and the bridge undefended” he replied as he looked across at the scene in front of them.
Brennus watched him for a moment before speaking again. “At sunrise I would like to sacrifice to their river spirits before we cross that bridge” Brennus said quietly. “We need to give the men something which shows that their gods have now joined our cause” he looked around at the land, the deep ridges and flowing river. “Something which shows that we were right to cross the mountains and come here” he added as he watched Aengus nod his comprehension.
************
“Totally defeated” Marcus said again, his jaw slack.
“Totally” Narcius replied.
“Totally” Marcus responded incredulously as his eyes came back up to look at the Centurion. “How many dead?”
“Over fifteen thousand men slain. Maybe more”
Marcus stared in horror at his friend as the words came from his mouth. His jaw worked but no words came out. Since his arrival at the marching column Marcus had greeted all the officers and men, his eye appraising their condition and immediately sending riders back to the town of Ardea to return with food, water and supplies. He looked, again, into the tired face of Narcius. “Fifteen thousand?” He spoke the words as if he couldn’t comprehend the loss.
“Yes, sir. Maybe more” came the slow reply.
Questions flooded into Marcus’ mind as he continued to stare at the soldiers as they trudged along, most still carrying their spears and shields, some limping and others half carrying their comrades as they headed to the safety of the town. He bit back his desire to ask a barrage of questions as he turned his horse and stared angrily back along the road. “When you are rested you must tell me everything Narcius. Every detail of these Gauls. How they fight. What weapons they have. How they organise themselves and who their leaders are” he said as the tired eyes of Narcius locked onto his own. The Centurion nodded before turning away to step back into the long line of soldiers as it snaked its way along the small stream that led to safety.
“Mella, my friend” Marcus said slowly as his former sword master’s eyes locked onto his. “Take some of the men and return to Rome. Scout the enemy and see what they are doing” he asked as his shoulders drooped and his head shook slowly. “I need to know if they are laying siege to the city or have taken it already” he added.
Vae Victis Page 12