The Dacian War (Book 6 of the Veteran of Rome Series)

by William Kelso

  Marcus was standing beside Claudia who was chatting to a couple of toga-dressed senators when a man appeared, clapping his hands and calling out for silence, and as he did an expectant hush descended on the party. Marcus turned to see Nigrinus standing in the middle of the room, looking around at his guests.

  “Friends, citizens, supporters,” Nigrinus called out, “tonight is a special night for soon I depart to join our dear emperor and my good and old friend Trajan on his campaign against the Dacians. Rome will be victorious, of this I am sure. So, to celebrate this I have laid on a special treat for you all. Cast your minds and hearts back to the very start of our great city, to a time when our heroic ancestors started out on the path to greatness that we enjoy today. All of you, please accompany me out into the garden.”

  With an excited buzz the crowd of guests began to follow Nigrinus as he led them out into a walled garden. Outside, the pattern of stars decorated the night skies and along the high garden walls, flaming torches burned, illuminating the silent and motionless slaves, who stood against the wall staring into space. But it was not the fine night-sky or the beautiful garden that caught Marcus’s attention. It was the silent lines of armed-men, their large legionary shields resting against their legs, that made him grunt in surprise. The men stood shoulder to shoulder and had been arranged in a square, their faces and shields turned inwards towards each other. In the square, open-space beyond the wall of shields, two men, half naked, partially covered in armour and armed with an assortment of exotic weapons and small round shields stood waiting for the guests to appear. And as the crowds of high-born men and women caught sight of the gladiators, a gasp of astonishment and excitement swept through the garden.

  “Two men, professionals and masters of their trade,” Nigrinus cried out, raising his arms in the air, “will fight to the death tonight. Our ancestors were such men. They never shirked a fight and they knew the price they would pay for defeat. They were men of steel, hard-working farmers but with tender hearts for their families. Tonight, these two gladiators will honour our ancestors and remind us of who we are. For Rome and her children are the greatest people to have walked this world. Long live emperor Trajan and the imperial family.”

  “Long live emperor Trajan,” the crowd of guests roared back enthusiastically as the excitement in the garden grew. “Long live Trajan and the imperial family.”

  Marcus and Claudia pushed their way through the throng until they had a good view of the enclosed space in which the gladiators would fight.

  “A private gladiator fight, that must have cost,” a man beside Marcus said with a gleeful expression, as he leaned inwards towards Claudia.

  Marcus did not react. He was staring at the gladiators. The men’s faces were hidden behind their exotic helmets. As a hush descended on the party the two fighters solemnly bowed towards Nigrinus and then slowly, and with deadly intent, they began to circle each other. As the fight intensified, the guests, their eyes glued to the contest, started to pick sides, shouting encouragements but Marcus did not join in. When, with a ferocious slicing blow, the victor finally brought down his opponent, a loud triumphant roar filled the garden. In the small square arena, the victor raised his bloodied weapon in the air in salute as his opponent lay on the ground, choking to death on his own blood. With cheers and cries the winner was led away and the crowd, resumed their chatter and started to disperse as if nothing had happened. Hastily pushing his way through the wall of armed men and their shields, Marcus hastened towards the fallen gladiator, but he was not the first to reach the dying fighter. An older, bookish and educated-looking man was already kneeling beside the gladiator, cradling the man’s head in his arms. Blood was everywhere, staining the grass and the man’s fine tunic.

  “It’s all right boy, it’s all right,” the older man was muttering in a calm, soothing voice. “Don’t be afraid. You fought well, you fought very well. The pain will soon be gone.”

  Quickly Marcus knelt beside the dying gladiator. The fighter’s fingers were shaking and he seemed to be trying to reach for something just out of reach. Hastily Marcus reached out, grabbed the man’s sword from where he’d dropped it and pressed the pommel into the dying man’s hand. Blood was welling up and gushing from the fighter’s mouth.

  “Here,” Marcus muttered, closing the man’s fingers around the pommel, “Go to your gods and be at peace. You fought well. It was just bad luck. There is no shame. You should be proud.”

  On the ground the dying gladiator’s eyes flickered open as the older man gently cradled his head on his lap and stroked his hair. For a moment, the gladiator stared up at Marcus and then slowly, the light faded from his eyes and his head rolled sideways.

  With a sigh the older man let go and gently laid the dead man’s head onto the grass.

  “Barbarism,” the man hissed under his breath. “We are supposed to be a civilised people and yet we love killing people for fun. It’s a disgrace.”

  Marcus said nothing as he reached out to close the dead fighter’s eyes and straighten his arms alongside his body. Then reaching for his neck, he undid his own cloak and respectfully laid it across the body, covering the man’s face. A slave appeared and tried to grasp hold of the dead gladiator’s legs but Marcus roughly shoved the slave away.

  “Show him some respect, he deserves that much,” Marcus growled, rising to his feet, and as he did the slave backed off.

  “Thank you,” the older man said as he too rose to his feet and stretched out his hand. “My name is Paulinus Picardus Taliare,” the man exclaimed. “Thank you for showing such respect to this man. That was good of you. You seem to be the only one around here who cares.”

  “You knew this fighter?” Marcus muttered as he grasped Paulinus’s outstretched arm and then gestured at the dead gladiator.

  “No,” Paulinus replied with a shake of his head. “But I don’t like to see men die needlessly and for entertainment. It is sick, barbaric and a waste of money and we Romans are not barbarians.”

  “Don’t let your host hear you say that,” Marcus said as he turned to look at the groups of guests who still lingered in the garden.

  “Actually,” Paulinus exclaimed, “he knows my position on these matters very well. Nigrinus and I are good friends. I have known him since he was born. I am one of the Prefects, the Praefecti Aerarii Saturni, who run the Aerarium, the state treasury. I am Rome’s finance minister.”

  Marcus frowned as from the corner of his eye he noticed Claudia moving towards him.

  “You look after all Rome’s money?” he asked.

  “I look after all the state assets, liabilities, moneys and taxes that are collected in Italy and the provinces that are controlled by the Senate,” Paulinus replied in a prim precise voice. “I and my colleague run the state treasury on behalf of the Senate. I am one of the dedicated band of unrecognised men who ensure that Rome remains a great power. And we manage the equestrian and senatorial lists and property qualifications. I know; I know, it’s not as glamourous as being a soldier or army general but my work is equally vital to the health of the empire. After all, if the soldiers don’t get paid then there will be no one left to defend the frontiers.”

  “You manage the equestrian lists?” Marcus asked with sudden interest, “So you decide who gets to be included on the official lists and who gets to be recognised as an equestrian, a knight?”

  “That’s right,” Paulinus replied with a little nod. “I and my colleague keep the lists up to date on behalf of the emperor. We have Trajan’s ear when it comes to who is to be officially recognised as a knight or a senator. It is all based on property and wealth qualifications and whether the candidate is of sound repute.”

  Paulinus paused and gave Marcus a curious look. “Most men find what I do to be a dull, boring job but if you are interested in my work, young man, then I would be happy to show you around the state treasury.”

  “There you are Marcus,” Claudia called out as she approached. Then abruptly she hesitat
ed as she caught sight of the body on the ground and the blood on Marcus’s forehead and hands.

  “I am glad that I met you Sir,” Marcus said giving Paulinus a respectful nod. “And I hope to see you once again, soon.” Then without saying another word he hastily strode away towards Claudia.

  ***

  It was nearly dawn when Marcus finally returned alone to the school on the Quirinal hill. As stiffly and wearily he disembarked from the small horse-drawn carriage and nodded his gratitude to Claudia’s slave who had brought him home, he was suddenly confronted by Petrus coming straight towards him. In the flickering torch-light Petrus’s face looked ashen and as he caught sight of the expression on his face, Marcus stiffened in alarm.

  “What now?” he growled.

  Petrus shook his head in dismay. “Esther,” he groaned, “Esther, she’s gone. She has disappeared.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Marcus growled closing his eyes. “Not again.”

  Chapter Sixteen – Aerarium Populi Romani

  Marcus leant against the wall, watching the loud, excited children through the open window, playing in the school courtyard. It was morning and behind him in the second-floor room that Claudia had given them, a dejected looking Petrus sat slumped on the floor, his back pressed against the wall, as he repeatedly tossed his wooden cross in the air before catching it.

  “Maybe we should just go home,” Petrus muttered wearily. “She has been gone for a whole day and two full nights. We will never find her, not in a city of a million people. She must have her reasons for leaving us.”

  “We cannot leave without settling this,” Marcus said sternly. “Cunitius is still out there and I told Abraham about our involvement in Priscinus’s murder. I gave Cunitius and the Governor of Britannia the closest thing to a confession as one can get. Even if Cunitius does not find Esther, this is not going to go away. The Governor of Britannia knows we were involved. He will move to punish us and take away our farm and maybe even declare us fugitives. And I am not going to run from that sack of shit. No, we cannot give up the fight. We must win. We must be smarter than our opponents. If we leave now, we are finished.”

  “So, what do we do, Marcus?” Petrus asked in a miserable sounding voice. “Lady Claudia is saying that notices for a reward for Esther’s capture are going up on walls across Rome. Cunitius is tightening his net. He must have the backing and support of the imperial prefects who have been left in charge of Rome. You said it yourself, this city is full of informants. How long will it be before some low life arsehole betrays her or our whereabouts?”

  “Or,” Petrus said quickly, raising a sarcastic finger in the air, “why don’t we just find Cunitius and kill him and after that head for Londinium and kill the Governor. That should end our problems and their threat to take possession of our farm.”

  “Shut up,” Marcus hissed irritably as he stared at the children playing in the courtyard. “That is a most stupid idea. We will never even get close to them. No, brute force is not the answer.”

  Thoughtfully Marcus touched his clean-shaven chin. “If we cannot be the bear then we must be the fox. I have been thinking,” he said, turning to look at Petrus. “The way to get what you want in this city is through using connections and politics. That is how the senators and the rich get things done around here. It’s all about whom you know and how good your friendship is with them.”

  “So, whom apart from Lady Claudia do we know who can help us?” Petrus exclaimed, looking baffled. “Nigrinus?”

  “No, there is no time; he has already left Rome for the Dacian frontier,” Marcus replied, “and besides I am not sure he would want to help us. He’s a bit of a dick.”

  “Who then?”

  “Paulinus Picardus Taliare,” Marcus exclaimed, as he turned once more to gaze at the children playing in the school yard. “Master of the state treasury and keeper of the equestrian and senatorial lists. I shall try and enlist his aid. If we are going to win, Petrus, then we are not only going to have to get Cunitius off our backs, but also the Governor of Britannia and for that we need a friend with some serious authority. An ally who is capable of telling the Governor to leave us the fuck alone. That is the only way in which we are going to win.”

  “Shit Marcus,” Petrus said, looking up at Marcus with renewed respect and hope. “Do you think that will really work?”

  “I don’t know but I am going to need Claudia’s help,” Marcus muttered as he watched her appear in the school yard below and start to usher the children into her school building.

  ***

  The Temple of Saturn stood at the base of the Capitoline hill, its magnificent stone columns portraying a sense of solidity and enduring grandeur. It was still morning as Marcus and Claudia crossed the Forum towards the Temple. The Roman market place and the ancient heart of Rome was overlooked by the numerous solemn and grave looking buildings of the Roman state. The merchants and farmers were out in force, their stalls covering every available inch of space of the area between the Palatine hill and the Capitoline. They clustered around their market stalls doing a feverish and loud trade with the crowds. In the sections reserved for their professions; money lenders were shaking bags of coins to attract borrowers and lawyers and business men were standing on small raised platforms, loudly advertising their skills and services. On the steps of the senate house a group of relaxed-looking senators were gathered together, chatting, their broad purple stripes on their white togas denoting their rank. As Marcus and Claudia stepped out of the way to allow a closed litter and four litter bearers to pass, Marcus turned to gaze warily around him. He had drawn his hood over his head and without his beard he felt strangely naked. But he had seen no sign of Cunitius or his men.

  “Relax Marcus,” Claudia said quietly, as she took his arm and began to steer him towards the Temple entrance. “Paulinus is a decent man. They say that he is the least corrupt man in Rome and that is quite a title.”

  “Just as well,” Marcus replied, “for someone who looks after the treasury.”

  The entrance to the Temple of Saturn, god of wealth, was guarded by a detachment from the praetorian guard and to Marcus’s surprise the place was busy with lots of people coming and going. At the base of the steps leading into the Temple, several filthy looking beggars were holding out their hands in a pitiful attempt to gain people’s attention and mercy. And close by, a temple prostitute was eying up potential customers. As he stepped through the grand entrance doors Marcus gasped in astonishment. Dominating the central hall was the great wooden statue of Saturn, veiled and grasping a giant scythe that loomed over the people. The statue’s legs had been bound in wool and several debtors were kneeling before the image, their bodies and arms outstretched and pressed to the floor in a gesture of complete, pleading submission.

  At the back of the Temple several doors seemed to give access to more rooms but as Marcus and Claudia approached, their path was swiftly blocked by armed temple guards.

  “Paulinus,” Claudia said in a sharp commanding voice turning to the guards. “Tell him that Lady Claudia is here and wishes to speak to him.”

  When at last Paulinus appeared, he dipped his bookish-face gracefully and smoothly kissed Claudia’s outstretched hand.

  “This is a pleasant surprise,” Paulinus exclaimed, glancing quickly at Marcus. “What can I do for you today Lady Claudia?”

  “Marcus is my friend,” Claudia said with a twinkle in her eye. “You may remember meeting him at Nigrinus’s party, during the gladiator fight?”

  “Ofcourse I remember him,” Paulinus replied with a quizzical expression.

  “You mentioned the other night, at Nigrinus’s party that you would be happy to show us around the state treasury,” Marcus interrupted. “Would now be a good time, Sir?”

  Surprised, Paulinus turned to Marcus. Then slowly his face lit up with a wide, good natured grin. “I don’t get many people asking me that,” the prefect of the state treasury in the Temple of Saturn replied. “Most think my
job deadly boring and that all I do all day is count money, but they are gravely mistaken. Money is not boring, I assure you and my work is anything but dull. It is fascinating. The very survival of the empire depends on what we do here. But not many people know that. Come, of course I shall show you around.”

  And without another word Paulinus turned and enthusiastically gestured for Claudia and Marcus to follow him.

  “So, what do you think of Rome, our great city, Marcus?” Paulinus called out as he led them around the statue of Saturn and away down a corridor.

  “It smells,” Marcus replied as he and Claudia followed Paulinus. “But there is honour and bravery in surprising places, if one knows where to look.”

  Ahead of him Paulinus laughed but did not turn around.

  “That room over there,” Paulinus said, pointing at a doorway guarded by two temple guards, as he fumbled for something in his pocket, “is where the imperial gold and silver reserves are stored. Nearly a hundred years ago, during the time of Emperor Augustus, Rome’s state income, our gross domestic product, was around five billion denarii and military expenditure was 2.5% of the imperial budget. Today, we are up to six and a half billion denarii with military expenditure of around 2.7%. So, for nearly a hundred years I and my predecessors have managed to keep our costs and debts under control. That’s no mean feat, considering how the empire has expanded and our military resources and costs have increased.” Paulinus turned to give Marcus a resigned smile. “It would be nice if our work here would one day be recognised. It is just as important as winning wars and battles, but we get no recognition.”

  With a sigh Paulinus turned away. “The aerarium of course is not the only the state treasury. There are three, believe it or not.”

  Slotting a key into the lock of one of the doors, Paulinus opened it and stepped into the room beyond. “The Fiscus is the emperor’s personal treasury,” he called out, “and there is also a military veteran’s retirement fund. I and my colleague run the Aerarium which only manages the finances of the provinces controlled by the senate, which is to say southern Gaul, Greece, Italy and parts of Hispania, Asia and Africa. The rest of the empire’s provinces are imperial provinces, controlled by the emperor and their tax revenues go straight to the Fiscus.”