Vae Victis

by Francis Mulhern

  Most of the men in the room were listening intently. Brennus had already moved most of the dead from around the houses where his Senones were now living, but the stench of the dead in the city was almost overpowering.

  “We should collect all these bodies and burn them” Aengus said firmly. “Destroy the Anasula that inhabit them and bring clean air back to the city. It was too cold in the snow, but now we must do it before the spirits take us all” he said.

  Brennus nodded. “Then we will. Connix” he said as his eyes caught a dark-haired man. “Go to the other chiefs and tell them that we must collect and burn these bodies. Use that big square by the river near the bridge, you know where I mean?”

  “Yes, Brennus” replied the man.

  “Aengus we must call a meeting of the chieftains. We need to decide what our next steps are. I have a mind to leave this place.” As he spoke a great shout came from the doorway, Brennus jumping to his feet as he took a deep breath through his nose and drew his sword from its scabbard, the shouting continuing as Aengus frowned and strode to the doorway.

  Three men entered, two of whom were men from his clan, and Brennus lifted his head in question towards one of them. “Who is that?” he asked as he nodded towards the small man, his thick dark hair cut short like a Greek.

  “Master” wailed the man as the Gaul holding his arm whacked him across the head with the back of his hand and the man fell to his knees whimpering, his eyes pleading. “Master. I know where the gold is”, he yelled as Aengus moved across and drew his curved blade. “Please master. Please they have cart loads on the hill. Please” he yelled as he curled into the foetal position and his lungs uttered great gasps.

  Aengus turned to Brennus and shrugged. “This might be interesting” he said.

  ***********

  The darkness was almost total and Comminus felt a twinge of fear as he slid along on his belly towards the river, the silence bringing more fear to his mind than if the whole river had been alive with creatures he could see. He stopped and gripped the bag he had in his hand more tightly, the cork had been given to him to use as a float and he had a set of dry clothes which he was going to change into once he crossed the river. All he had to do was keep the clothes above the water, and he felt around for some wood which he could use to lean against and use the cork as buoyancy. He had discussed the plan with Marcus and a variety of the elders at Ardea, but it had been Apuleius who had suggested the cork, which was in plentiful supply in the town. The weather had been kind and despite the cold it hadn’t rained since the sun had set, a good sign, he told himself. Marcus had conducted the ceremony and read the auspices with a grey-haired old man from Ardea who seemed incapable of remembering the words of the ceremony but had spoken valiantly despite nobody understanding a word of what he said. Marcus had come to the rescue and completed all the correct protocols and declared the signs good. Comminus tapped his dagger hilt three times as a thought that they were wrong crossed his mind. He chided himself for his weakness of mind and scurried back along towards the bridge at the Colline Gate. Everyone had argued that this was the best way to cross the Tiber, close to the city but covered by the earthen bank so he could easily escape any prying eyes.

  He stopped again as he heard a noise, a splash. There it was again. He instinctively moved away from it and further along the bank. He would have a longer swim, but that was better than blundering into a pack of wolves drinking at the river, he thought. The smell drifted across to him again, the unmistakable stench of rotting flesh, waves of the nauseous smell were coming from the city. He carried on along to the reeds by the water’s edge and sat on his haunches to stare across into the inky darkness at the city of his birth. The walls were discernible against the blue-black sky and high up on the hills he saw some small spots of fire where Gauls were no doubt waiting to kill him. He glanced slightly to his left and upwards towards the spot where the great temple of Jupiter stood on the Capitol Hill and he squeezed his eyes as he tried to make out any features on the hill, a smile coming to his face as he noted a small yellow star, which was obviously a fire on top of the hill around which his mind’s eye saw all the Roman faces of the Senators beaming at him as he appeared before them.

  Breathing deeply, he pulled the cork filled bag to the front and placed it in the water, the lower part of the bag sinking but the majority sitting proud of the water. He pulled the log out from behind him and placed it under the bag so it spread out like a pair of arms at his sides, and finally he placed the spare clothes on top of the cork bag. His feet were already going numb from the cold and he knew that he must stand chest deep in the cold water for a few moments to get his body used to the cold before he kicked off into the sacred river or else risk gasping for breath once in the depths. The gods were on his side as he kicked off and he felt the cold ease from his thighs as he slowly paddled his legs and steered the cork bag towards the dark shape of the wooden bridge.

  ************

  Aengus kicked the cover from his body and sat up. His sleep was interrupted by dreams of water and he closed his eyes to catch the last remnants of the memory of his dreams. Taking a thick tunic, he threw it over his neck and pulled the green cloak from the floor, tying the belt, from which his curved blade hung, to his waist as he strode through the door. The dogs looked up at him as he walked past, one standing and padding to the door as he stepped outside but returning to the warmth as it judged he had not risen to give it any food.

  The druid stood at the corner of the Forum and looked at the deep spring that was next to the round house that the Gauls had burned to the ground a few months ago. The water was deep and cool and he squinted long and hard into its depths to see if the meaning of his dream was entailed within the spring. After a few moments he stood and frowned as he closed his eyes and strained his ears. Laughter drifted down from one of the hills around the main square, but no other sound could be heard. He wandered along the low hill and turned right into the wide street that some had said was called the Etruscan Road, though the name meant little to him. He moved slowly, feeling the chill in the air as he stopped regularly and closed his eyes. Something was drawing him towards the walls of the city. Should he call out the guard? He decided that no civilised being would attack in the dark, it was too dangerous, and so his bare feet padded along the wide Roman road towards the gate by which they had entered the city so long ago.

  ***********

  Comminus crawled slowly from the river, trying as he had been told, not to cause any ripples or splashes which might attract the attention of the Gauls. Within seconds he was clear of the water and pulling his soaked clothing from his lower body and replacing it with dry from the bag. He stashed the cork bag next the base of the bridge, ramming it tight under the eaves so that it wouldn’t be visible to anyone unless they clambered down underneath the wooden structure and then he set off slowly towards the gate, his eyes and ears alert for any sound or movement. As he neared the gate he gulped and said a prayer to Fortuna that she give him luck, and to the spirits of the Vestals for giving him this task. With the movements of a cat he climbed the low wall and ran along the turf bank towards the gate, avoiding the road in case any Gallic defenders were watching the walls. As he peered through the gate his spirits rose and he grinned into the darkness; everywhere was silent, not a soul moved within the city.

  It took him less than a minute to clear the ground to the Forum Boarium and he winced as the stench hit him as he moved along the left wall of the great space where the cattle market was held. He stood and waited as his eyes adjusted to the darkness in the recesses of the square and screwed his face as he sucked air into his lungs and could taste the thick smell of decay that permeated the place. He slipped along the edge of the road but quickly came to a stop. In front of him, piled as high as ten men and maybe fifty paces wide, was a massive pile of flesh. The eyeless dead stared at him as he focussed on them and a gasp came from his lungs before he stifled it and knelt quickly, his eyes suddenly alert as his hea
rt thrashed in his chest. Dead bodies, here?

  Every part of his body was revolted by the smell and the sight. He closed his eyes and prayed to Jupiter that he had the strength to finish this mission and decided to take a turn to his right, across the square, and towards the long low rise towards the base of the Capitol. It wasn’t far but he knew it would be dangerous, the criss-cross of plebeian houses had been burnt to the ground and so the going would be tricky, but it offered the best opportunity to get to the Rock quickly. On his right the Palatine rose into the sky and to his left was the sound of the river. He picked his way through fallen beams and smashed stone houses before he stopped at the remains of a well-built stone house which led to the better houses of the lower slopes which circled the Capitol. Within three minutes he had climbed the slopes and was onto the narrow road which circumvented the Capitol and led to the Halitorium. He caught another whiff of the rotting flesh despite the fact that the wind was towards the river which was behind him and stopped to get his breath back. The night was past the mid-point and from here he could just about make out noises from around the Hills of Rome, the odd laugh here, a dog barking there. He maintained his position before he looked up towards the Rock, the hardest part of his journey was yet to come.

  ************

  Aengus ran his hand along the cold wood of the bridge and wondered why they Romans kept this bridge of wood when all the others were mainly of stone. Maybe this bridge was made of sacred wood, he thought. The Celts and Germanic tribes had sacred wooden structures which they used for rituals and sacrifices, maybe the Romans were the same. He stood in silence as he placed a hand on the wooden rail and looked down at the darkness of the water running under the bridge, just about visible in the dark of the night.

  His senses told him that he needed to get closer to the river and so he retraced his steps to the roadside and jumped down the bank, careful to move slowly as he half slid on the wet ground towards the river. The water gurgled as he moved closer to its force and he felt the river spirits rise and stare at him as he edged to the bank and placed a hand in the cold water. The light seemed brighter here, he thought, and he allowed his clearer sight to gaze across to the far bank, making out the swaying reeds and the dark flowing water of the river as it raced along at his feet. He turned, moved to step back up to the bridge and caught his foot on a log, the wet surface brushing against his foot. He rolled the log on his foot as he looked at it for a second before he started to climb back up to the bridge, his hand touching the lower beams which connected the structure to the road above.

  Why was the log wet? His mind suddenly asked as he moved to step onto the bridge. He stood rooted to the spot. Why? He raced back over the rail and edged back into the darkness, feeling about for the log. Yes, here it was. It was still wet and was at least three feet from the water and so it couldn’t have just washed up randomly. Someone had used it recently to cross the river. Realisation gripped him as his lips curled into a smile and he loped back up the slope, drawing his curved blade as he set off on a hunt in the city of Rome.

  ************

  Comminus felt his forearms burning as his fingers tightened and his grip locked. For a second he felt as if he couldn’t release his fingers and a wave of fear coursed through him as he sensed the chasm that was below him. He had reached more than half way up the slope and an aching and shaking in his legs and arms had caused him to stop. What a fool he had been trying to climb the Rock, he was going to die here, crushed like a thief or a traitor on the floor below the Capitol. His head swam momentarily as he closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, his right hand again starting to shake as he adjusted his grip on the vertical wall. Jupiter please don’t let me die here he prayed. I will dedicate my family to your service above all other gods he said to himself as he tried in vain to stop the shaking in his right leg. The clouds parted as he prayed and the moon sprayed light on him as he looked over his shoulder to peer at the moonlight. As he did so he saw a small ledge to his right. A sign he said. Jupiter greatest and best I dedicate my family to you he prayed as he edged across and found a foothold on the small shelf, the shaking in his leg continuing but lessening as he took each breath. Within a minute he recovered his wits and was looking up at the distance he had left to climb. He remembered this ledge from the last time he had been here and he smiled and he traced the edges of the Rock with his eye and worked out the way to climb to the top. He was going to make it.

  ************

  Javenoli cursed as he stood atop the mound that overlooked the barricade through to the lower road at the junction to the Forum. Where was Damos? Had the man been caught by the Gauls? He tightened his lips as one of the guards wandered across and nodded to him, the movement visible now that the moon had appeared in the sky behind them. He nodded cheerfully despite his anger at his slave. He’d never been gone this long. All he had to do was deposit the gold in the usual place and then return pretending he hadn’t found any food. He’d done it hundreds of times. But this time Gaius Javenoli knew something was wrong.

  “No sign of him yet Senator?” the guard asked.

  “No, my friend. It may be that we won’t see our best food finder again” he sighed, his jovial comment belying the anger he felt inside. If they had found him, he would have told them where the gold was, and the deeds to the houses and land which were stored in the trunk with them. He cursed under his breath as he closed his eyes.

  “I know” said the guard, interrupting his thoughts. Javenoli looked at him to show his lack of understanding. “The slave, sir” he said with a flick of his head towards the city. “The buggers become like your best friend and when you lose them” he shook his head knowledgeably “well it’s hard Senator. Cruel, but hard.”

  Javenoli smiled back at the man and nodded his appreciation of the words as he turned and started the slow walk back up the steep hill to the Capitol. His mind was furiously working through all sorts of thoughts about Damos before he realised that a great commotion had started up ahead of him, the dogs were barking loudly and there was shouting from the people. He stopped suddenly as he thought they were under attack and he glanced around for a weapon.

  But then a cheer rang out. Yes, it was a cheer. He started to jog, he couldn’t do much else on this steep rise and came across the back of a crowd of people as they stood next to the temple crowding around something. He pushed his way through the crowd, gaining angry pushes from some of the rougher crowd members as he did so, others allowing a patrician through as they saw who he was. He heard words being exchanged as he closed on the temple steps, the taller central door seemed to be the focus of the crowd’s attention. He heard the name Camillus and his heart leapt at the name. He struggled through the throng of people at the front of the crowd before he saw that several Senators were jabbering at a thin man who was sat leaning against the column of the temple drinking from a water skin. Who was this? He thought. He didn’t recognise the man from their several months on the Hill. Then there it was again, the name Camillus.

  “I must talk to the remaining members of the Senate” said the voice. “I am Pontius Comminus of the Palatine” he said loudly as men gripped him and shouted angrily at him, questions coming at him from all sides. As Javenoli appeared next to the temple he saw Marcus Manlius leaning over the man and he caught his attention. “Manlius” he said quickly as Manlius looked up at him and recognised him with a wide-eyed flick of his eyelids. “Best Centurions voice if you don’t mind” smiled the old Senator. “Let’s get some order here please” he said.

  Manlius nodded and stood tall before yelling “Silence. All men will be silent and speak one at a time” his parade ground voice boomed, some of the Senators and crowd jumping at the noise and others grumbling thanks as they jostled to get closer to Comminus.

  “Where are the rest of the Senate members?” called Javenoli as faces turned to him and heads shook with glum expressions.

  “Make way” came a voice behind him as people were barged aside by soldi
ers, quickly followed by several of the patrician Senators who had set up their ‘homes’ mid-way along the hill to avoid the worst of the wind and cold that the lower orders existed in on the higher slopes. Javenoli smiled as he winked at Comminus.

  “Stand Comminus” he said as he proffered a hand and helped the young man to his feet. “Did you say Camillus is coming?” he whispered as the man looked to him.

  “It’s a long story” came the tired reply from the younger man as Javenoli nodded and looked over his shoulder at the advancing Senators.

  It took several minutes for Comminus to explain the situation, questions being continually fired at him as he tried to explain the complexities of what had happened. Finally, a silence had fallen on the group, every head staring at the man who had risked life and limb to scale the Rock to their position.

  Cossus spoke first, his eyes bright as the candles in the temple where they had moved, reflected back at the waiting people who were crowded into the space, many more waiting outside for news of what the man had said.

  “We are the remaining men of the Senate” he said. “We must ratify this agreement and send Comminus back before the night has ended. The ceremony must be performed and we must agree by voting and giving the people the news” he added. A rumble of agreement went around the temple, the sound echoing off the high ceiling as if the wheels of Jupiter’s chariot itself had ridden across the roof.

  “Why Camillus?” called Aulus Gellius, his white beard long and unkempt. “Others have a claim to be Dictator and can make decisions which we will all agree. He is a traitor; the man stole from the people for his own good. We can’t trust him” he shouted as the noise of people agreeing and disagreeing grew around the temple.