Civil War Stories, The Will of the Senate

Off the Italian Coast

It was almost time for landfall. The trip had been mind-numbingly slow one, even though Marcellus Aemilius knew that Admiral Appius was pushing his crew to the limit. Some time ago the crew had detected something coming from the west, in the direction of Caralis, but Marcellus ignored it. Only Italia mattered.

Marcellus stared out into the sea again, as he had done many times before. Thinking... thinking of the last time he had taken a sea voyage...

...it was the autumn of 253 BC, at the Aemilii estate just outside of Roma. It was time for the midterm elections. All the senators had dropped everything and made for the capital, but this time it was to do usual Senatorial business instead of desparately try to control the peninsula.

The mood was good at the Aemilius family reunion. Servius had just mended ties with the family, saw some relatives for the first time since his Consular election, and had just seconded some legislation that Marcellus had drawn up. All was good.

Pater Lucius was laughing and sharing a drink with his adopted son and friend, Valerius Pallus. Manius the Mad was entertaining several of the children with... erm... impersonations, while his son, also named Marcellus, buried his head in his hands. Oppius was chatting with several young women, none of them looking anything like an Aemilius, about his experiences with the now-famous Battle of the Fort.

The rolling grassy fields of the estate were abound with life that magical evening.

A young, beautiful woman was shown to where the games were being held by the Aemilii's manservant Cato. She looked around at the festivities, clearly oblivious to all the merriment going on all around her. Instead, her mind was still on the invitation to this event.

"Why would someone five years older than me, who I first met when he was in his last year at the Scriptorium tell me to come here?" she thought. She barely knew the guy and yet he was telling her to come to this. This was the Aemilii family reunion! Aemilii! You couldn't get much more patrician or Roman than that!

She looked around for a few more minutes before spotting the man who had invited her.

"Marcellus!" she called out and waved. "Over here!"

Marcellus, spotting her, came over and greeted her. "Ah, Eutropia," he said, "glad to see you again. Come on, have some fun! There's somebody that I want you to meet."

"Um, Marcellus," she said, "why did you invite me here tonight? You and I barely know each other."

"Shh," he replied. "This isn't about people who barely know each other. This is about people who don't know each other at all. Eutropia, this is my nephew and our Consul, Servius Aemilius."

She gasped. "Wait - THE Servius Aemilius? The one who won all those battles in Afrika? The one who proposed this grand strategy in the east? The one who beat you in the Consular election?"

"Charmed, my lady." Servius stepped in, greeting Eutropia. "Although my dear uncle here insists that a series of raids would still have been wiser."

Marcellus ignored the present conversation. "Eutropia is VERY interested in foreign cultures, Servius."

Servius' eyes lit up. "Ah! Indeed, I have a bit of fascination with other peoples myself - when I'm not too busy killing them, that is." At this, Eutropia laughed. Marcellus, satisfied, departed. Neither of the other two noticed.

An hour later, Marcellus and Oppius were watching the two, sharing a drink and in deep conversation. All of their attention was focused on the other.

"Looks like setting him up with Eutropia was a good idea," said Oppius, coughing. Despite this, he still grinned.

Marcellus nodded. "Maybe now this'll hide his military side a little bit."

The reunion continued long into the night, with the festivities and drinking running late. But Servius and Eutropia noticed none of it, still paying all of their attention to the other.

Back on the ship, Marcellus mused. "That was a great night. Why couldn't it have lasted? Now I have to defeat Servius, endure Eutropia's eternal anger, and I still don't know what to do about Oppius. I just hope they all one day understand. The man she married is dead..."

He continued to stare out into the sea until a soldier tapped him on the back.

"Sir, it's time!"

"Thank you, soldier." He ran into the cabin where his own wife, Magna, was giving birth.

After an arduous several minutes, Marcellus had delivered the couple's third child. It was a boy.

"What shall we name him, dear?"

"I think we'll call him Herius. It's a good, strong name."

"He's so beautiful," she crooned.

"That's what Manius and his wife said about Servius," he said to himself.

"What was that, dear?"

"Nothing."

Really, it all came down to family, didn't it? This Roman Civil War, already the cause of thousands of casualties, was just caused by one powerful, dysfunctional family. Marcellus reckoned that the next reunion would be a lot bloodier.

He stayed with Magna and Herius and waited for landfall.

"I can understand Sextus's plan up until the part where we march my family all the way to Ariminum." Thoma complained. Flavius ignored him, kneeling down to fill a jug with water at the side of a small stream. Thoma's family rested at the side of the wagon, the other man with them standing beside them, keeping an eye on the whimpering casket-like box.

Thoma took the hint, and looked back to the wagon. "Think we should tell him that we're not actually going to bury him alive?"

Flavius snickered. "And have him start spouting off all the way there rather than begging for his life?" He went quiet for a moment again. "As far as your family goes, there is no question in my mind that you'd rather them not be there when the day comes. You know what I'm talking about. Don't forget why we're on this journey to begin with. They'll be safer in Ariminum."

Thoma nodded then let out a sigh of begrudging acceptance. He knew full well what he meant. The Republic was tearing itself apart from within, and it was foolish to think that Roma itself would be spared when in all reality it seemed more likely that the city would suffer the worst horrors of the war.

Flavius looked up at the sky, trying to judge how much farther they could go before night would hit them. "Come on, it'd be best not to waste any more time."

--------------------------------------------------------

Drudging around in the ruins of Manius's estate would be a worthless endeavor, they'd found everything they could have there. Instead, Sextus wanted to question the neighbors. They woke early that morning, when people were getting ready to go out and take care of their daily business, and hastily made their way to the upper class neighborhood where Manius's estate once stood. There was a great deal of people milling about the street, many off in the direction of the forum, the baths, some to the scriptorium.

"Where to even start?" Sextus wondered aloud, it wouldn't be an easy task. People were on edge these days, particularly with factional loyalties sparking almost immediate altercations when mentioned in public. It was the cause of all the rioting the past few days, but with the approach of Marcellus's fleet, and Luca Mamillus outside the walls, the majority of the unrest had quieted down.

Sextus looked up and down the street, and decided they really didn't have much of a choice. "Let's go, house by house, but keep an eye out for the garrison, if you see them, run, and hide out wherever you can until nightfall, then meet up back at the house with anything you know. Go." He almost couldn't believe they'd been forced to resort to such a tactic, but they had nothing else to go by.

Gauls. Blasted, sodding, thrice cursed GAULS!!

They had cost Manius the battle…..the cowards ran, when victory was but a few moments away they ran.

Cowards. Seemed there were most than just the Gauls who had been cowards that day, instead of face an honourable death….accept his fate as Mars had decreed it on the battle field by Manius’s blade, Appius had also fled. Fled though to safety within the spears of his Triarii.

Now he handed control of his Legion over to the man. He had too, there was no other option as Numerius had plans to march to Italy, Manius, obviously, had to accompany him so it had to be Appius that remained in Asia-Minor to contest the Seleucid resurgence.

Manius suspected that it was for the better for many other reasons. He was sure he would not enjoy the gloating company of Appius during their long march West, mocking him as a victorious commander even though he’d fled Manius on the battlefield.

GAULS!!!

He would have been better off without them, well, his Legion would have been anyway. At least had he not recruited them he would have thought much harder about committing to battle.

Perhaps without the Gauls bolstering his confidence and numbers he would have turned round and retreated in the face of the superior Senate army. He’d considered it when he counted banners in the morning, why didn’t he just withdraw then?

It was then that Manius considered how young he was, how much he still had to learn. He’d made one error in the battle, it certainly didn’t help, he’d not known that the Thracians the Senate employed were armed with Javelins.

He’d ordered his line to draw up and exchange missile fire prior to charging but the response from the Senate lines was massively more than he’d envisaged. It had cost precious lives. In particular with his veteran Princeps at his centre and he mourned them deeply now.

Manius looked about him at the column. He was still alive and was not in chains, perhaps escape was a possibility? Escape….perhaps, but to what? To where? Perhaps more importantly, to who?

There were no easy answers, at least he enjoyed Numerius’s company and their discussions into the late hours in Numerius’s command tent. He almost wished he was on campaign with the man….perhaps when all this is done?

For now, Italy was a long way away, and Numerius seemed in no hurry to get there, taking the longer land route via Byzantium rather than attempting a crossing to Athens as Manius would have done….so, many weeks to go, perhaps this will all be over before they even set foot in Italy?

Roma

Marcellus Aemilius had arrived. He had beaten Servius and Oppius in the frantic race to the capital, and the Senate building was in no danger. But he was still unhappy. The Eternal City was about to erupt.

He and his army had marched to the front door of the Pro-Consul's palace, which was currently being "occupied" by the city's provincial governor, Vibius Domna. The Senator, only 23, had shut himself in ever since Manius' villa had burned down.

Marcellus banged on the door.

"DOMNA," he roared, "OPEN THIS DOOR! THIS IS MARCELLUS AEMILIUS!" After about a minute, the party heard a scurrying sound and the door was soon opened by Domna himself.

"Ah, Marcellus," he crowed, obviously happy that it wasn't Servius, "come in! Make yourself comfortable! We can talk about what has happened since you left Afrika in the library."

"No time," said Marcellus. "You do have the ability to walk and talk, correct?"

"Uhm... yes...?"

"Good. Then we will do that."

The two Senators made their way to Domna's library, with Marcellus' entourage closely in tow.

"You have not been an exemplary governor these past months, Domna. I have heard much on the short trip from the port to the city. What is this about Manius Coruncanius' villa burning down?"

"Ah, well sir, it was just that. Some of us suspect arson. His wife is dead and children are missing. I believe that a centurion is conducting his own investigation of the matter."

"You BELIEVE? Shouldn't you be leading an investigation of this importance, you being the governor?"

"Well, Kaeso thinks I should, but he's just a lad, and still in the Scriptorium..."

"Waitaminute." At this, Marcellus stopped dead. "Kaeso... CORUNCANIUS? Manius' brother? A close relative to the dead? Jumpin' Juno, man, it's not safe for him here! I don't care what side he is, get him out of here! Where is the Speaker? I must discuss important matters with him."

"Uhm... The Speaker has... also gone missing."

"Oh, Fortuna. You can't do anything right, can you, Domna?"

Domna, who felt worthless at this point, kept his silence.

"I have no choice but to put this city under martial law. You can stay on as staff if you wish. Centurion - I need this city calm. Arrest anyone who is making a disturbance - Consular or Senatorial - as well as any soldiers suspected of having sympathies to Servius. The last thing I want now is somebody sabotaging this place. Also, comb the city for the Speaker. If that poor man is residing in bad conditions, he might not be able to last long. Finally, I want inquiries about Manius' villa and his family. From now long you report directly to me, not some centurion that I don't know about. What are you waiting for? MOVE!"

Several of Marcellus' staff ran off, looking confused.

"Domna, get out of my sight and do something useful. Maps of everyone's latest position would be a good start. Go."

Domna scurried off, leaving Marcellus in the company of only a shadowy figure.

"I am in need of your services, Augustus," he said in a slightly less commanding tone. You have connections in the south, right?"

The spy, Augustus Sempronius, nodded. Connections were part of his job.

"Very well. Go south and see what you can find."

Augustus nodded again and departed without a word.

Marcellus sat down in a study, finally alone. It was good to be back in the city. First he would sleep, then see how Magna was doing, then go over the military situation. But before anything could happen, three guards came in, dragging in with them a man bearing the standard of the Consul.

"What is it?" Marcellus groaned.

One of the guards spoke up. "This man says he has a letter for you from a very important figure. He was unarmed."

Marcellus sighed. "Very well, bring me the letter and get out of my sight." The guards nodded and dragged the man away.

He opened the letter, saw the seal, and groaned. What could he possibly want now?

Sabina hadn’t slept that much at all and now she found herself sat looking out on her walled garden. She was certain that she should be tired but found herself alive and awake and as the early morning grew she started to hear the sound of children and her heart soared.

She’d never really confronted her need for more children until last night and with the arrival of the Coruncanii children her maternal instincts had been strongly rekindled.

She watched as Popillia played with the two elder children whilst gently holding the baby, their eyes met and both Popillia and Sabina smiled to each other.

The trouble was, what to do now? Sabina thought hard on the problems at hand though she was sure her son had a plan, most military types always had “plans”, she was just as sure that she wanted to play a part in it now. She would leave a note with one of the menservants so that Aulus would know she was safe and with her son.

She stood up and, taking another look at the happy children, she strode to her chambers.



Kaeso woke early, as he always did, and got dressed quickly before moving through the villa and waking his escort.

“Burcanius!” the passing servant paused and turned to Kaeso

“Burcanius, could you arrange for our horses to be ready and some supplies to be made available for my men and I?”

“Certainly master, shall I advise the mistress of the house so that she is fully ready to leave with you?”

“Eh? What do you mean Burcanius? Mater isn’t coming with us?”

“….oh, but I am my lad…”

Both men turned to see Sabina walk into the corridor, clearly dressed for travel.

“You are not going anywhere with those children, without me. Is that clear my boy?”

“what are you talking about mater? You can’t come with us!”

Sabina took a second to ignore Kaeso’s outburst and address Burcanius.

“Be a good fellow and do as the young master has bade you, oh and make sure the litter is well stocked.” With a wave of her hand to emphasise that Burcanius should move away, the servant bowed and left.

Sabina calmly turned back to Kaeso

“Now then, what was it you were saying?”

“You can’t come with us Mother! Simple as that.”

“I see….simple as that is it?” Sabina’s eyebrows raised “I don’t think it is boy. You may be well versed in moving troops about but you have absolutely no concept of how to look after your charges. Had you considered that in any detail at all??”

Kaeso looked defiant.

“Of course I had! I thought we would employ Popillia to journey with us and….”

Sabina cut him off

“Simple as that huh!?! Had you considered Popillia in any of this? She’s got her own family and her own young child to look after, had you even thought how she’d cope on a journey with not only looking after her own babe but also your four charges??”

It was Kaeso’s turn to feel small now, it was true. He’d considered that it would be an easy matter to throw vast sums of money at the problem and it would just “go away”. He’d pay Popillia exceptionally well, she’d travel with him and his men looking after the children until they found a safer spot to settle. He felt ashamed now though, he’d not considered any personal feelings that Popillia may have had into his calculations and now, it seemed, his plans were evaporating like fine wine on warm terracotta tiles.

He looked at his mother, ready, dressed for the road. Her hair was up tight to her head and she’d placed a fine pearl head-dress around her scalp so it appeared as if her hair was radiant with sparkling dew drops. Her dress was practical but very fine all the same and cut, like so many of her clothes, so there was no excess, nothing to catch or snag. However the effect was that the dress followed the contours of her body. It was almost an obscene display of the female form, little skin was showing but none the less, it was obvious that she was still in prime physical condition.

“Sorry mater, I assume that you’ve already been busy today and have arranged everything?”

“Of course I have Kaeso. I do not stand by idle whilst my favoured son needs help. I have arranged a carriage for myself, Popillia and all the children. Obviously, you and your men will ride as escorts and we have a cart for supplies ready also.”

“You cover everything mother..”

“Not quite my boy, I mean we have no idea where we are headed do we?”

Kaeso was startled at first. Of course he’d considered the problem but the priority had been to get out of immediate danger and he’d not had much time to consider much more but he now had to think and think quickly.

“We cannot travel North, war comes from that way and I am certain that both Republican and Consular forces will be approaching from all diretions…….” Kaeso sighed “….I just….don’t know mother. I had hoped that we could make it to Capua at least and charter one of fathers ships to take us to the islands but I am unsure if we will be able to do so now.

“Of course we can Kaeso” his mother smiled at him and a warm feeling of love and security passed through Kaeso washing his anxiety away.

“How so?”

“Your good father is always considerate enough to leave notes of passage for me every time he leaves for business, we can go where ever you feel is best for now.”

Kaeso was overjoyed! His father was rescuing him even though he wasn’t at home and his mother was intelligent and had the presence of foresight to arrange all this for him.

He embraced her releasing all his panic in that clinch. He patted him on his back and raised head before kissing him on the forehead and they parted.

“Now then, where are we to decide upon when we get to Capua?”

“I think, mother, that we should decide that along the way. For now we need to get ready and leave before the day gets too old.”

It was dark and he was alone. He could hear the undergrowth moving around him as they circled.

They were tightening the trap around him and he was finding it hard to breath.

There to the right, no! left! He ran onwards but he never managed to loose them. The warmth of the night was oppressive and he was dry, he felt like he’d not had a drink in days and he was parched and tired but he kept running.

A twig snapped and he shot round, he just managed to catch a glimpse of one of them. Low and sleek, skin black as the night and the tail gave the creature an evil grace. It would have been impressive if there had not been so many of them, 5….no 6! Perhaps more and they were all around him.

Another noise behind him and he turned to face it.

The creature was bold and advanced on him low to the ground.

Decius held his dagger firmly and prepared to defend himself but suddenly the dagger turned to sand and no matter how hard he clenched his fist it just slipped through to the ground.

He looked up….the creature pounced….gaping maw opened up to take his face, his entire head and a hollow wail sounded from the open jaws as they sped through the air.

The sound of a 100 people…women, children, babies....people dieing and gurgling their last.

Decius felt the animals claws dig into his shoulder and……….

With an explosion of movement Decius had the dagger at the creatures throat, though it wasn’t the creature and it was daylight, it was one of the farmers.

Decius rapidly composed himself but kept the terrified farmer in his vicelike grip. Slowly, Decius removed the blade from against his neck and the barest trickle of blood started to move down over his Adam’s apple.

“I told you NOT to approach me when I slept, what part of that didn’t you understand you stupid pleb?”

The farmer was shaking too much to answer so Decius swiftly rose and gathered his meagre possessions.

He looked down at the still motionless farmer, motionless apart from the torrent of urine leaving his leggings. Decius sneered in his direction….pathetic…..tossed a coin into the straw beside him and turned to leave.

He found his horse at the far end of the stables and quickly replaced the tackle before mounting. Now the problem remained, where was he to go now? Still shaking the last dregs of his nightmare off, Decius decided to set off in whatever direction the Gods chose and think on the matter.

He started out down the main road of the village and soon noticed a party leaving the Estate managers villa ahead, one….two carts plus an escort…..

Odd.

He rode towards them, they were heading out on the Southern road and it was soon that Decius started to make out faces and details proper as he travelled North.

Five outriders, clearly off duty soldiers. The last cart was obviously stocked up with either provisions or trade goods…..Capua the large trading port was South of here, that was logical then…..but in the first carriage……the first carriage!

Decius quickly tried to hide his face as much as possible as he got closer, without making it obvious that he was doing so.

In the first carriage there were two women, one was quite breathtakingly beautiful and clearly of noble birth. The other was reasonably attractive but obviously she was a slave or of a lower chaste than the noble by they way she dressed and held herself, and there were four children.

Two aged around 7 or less and two very young ones, being held by the common woman. However, one of the babes was dressed differently, the eyes of the common woman looked at that child differently, with more love, more concern……that was her child but the others!

Decius turned his horse up a side street and didn’t look back at the party as it passed behind him. He dismounted and started to pretend to adjust his harness as the outriders passed him by, they paid him a few glances but nothing serious.

Decius tried to catch his breath, tried to stop his head spinning and appear “normal”.

He’d found them!!

Marcellus's eyes widened as he studied the letter from the consul with intensity.

Quote:

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Congratulations on making it to Rome first Marcellus. It looks like the day of our final meeting is coming nearer by the minute. Perhaps, if you will it, it will occur before this spring has ended. But that decision will be yours.

Why did it have to come this far Marcellus? The impeachment failed, I was set to leave office. And yet you went on and supported a man who, in failing his first attempt at removing me from my office a few mere weeks before its set end, pushed yet another emergency vote? To what end will you support these traitors to the Roman name? To what end will you support these madmen, these despots? What deal did you make with them?

I had hope for you Marcellus. I had great hopes for you. Surely you remember our private communications?

Just in case you don't, let me refresh your memory.

You wished the consulship when I was done, but the senate wanted to look east, again turning their head away from your opinion, from your perception of wisdom. We spoke at length of making you consul after my reign, of continueing a just and rightful rule after my conquests finished setting up Rome for a period of peace. But the senate spoke at length of eastern invasion, an idea those fools opposed earlier with every ounce of their strength. And you asked me Marcellus, what could be done.

Do you remember my answer Marcellus? I do. I remember telling you to trust in me, that I would hand you the consulship unopposed. All you had to do was quietly support me.

Marcellus, thanks to me, you were set to be consul when I was finished. You had no opposition in the world.

I started the war with Iberia so that you could bring about the golden age I had set Rome up to see! And still you betrayed me!
And that is why we are here today Marcellus. It is not my fault, it is not Numerious's fault, I would have avoided that filthy squelcher to my dieing days and he would have never caught me. No, we are at war, for you! And worse, much worse still, is that you have betrayed the man who would have made you Rome's most celebrated leader for all time. If you had only used your brain and calmed the senate's anger, pushed your position on the west and demanded votes for the consulship be made so that you could pick up the pieces of the supposed "disaster" I had started with Iberia. I had hope for you Marcellus. I thought you could see these things.

I thought you were an Aemilii.

The senate has accused me of treachery, of being a traitor. They should be looking amongst their own ranks.

I hope I have given you all the answers you sought Marcellus. But in that respect, it's time for you to do your thinking on your own. Here is the world as it stands uncle..here is the world as I have created it.

Firstly, you are not the only man to receive this letter. Hope when the other senators receive this note, they do not turn their hunt on you instead. A copy of this has been dispatched to each of them, and I've already made sure that these words will be spread amongst the people too.

Secondly, What is more important to you Marcellus? Me, or Rome? I will not just lie down and die for you or for any other member of that wretched political body you call a senate. You have a serious choice to make. March on me now, or march back to Rome. Why? Because while you were busy playing hero, pretending to sail off from Carthage and rescue Rome from that terrible Servius, I was off making friends. Carthage was far from defeated when you left its shores, and now a Carthaginian army easily the equal in size and might of a full consular legion is set to march on Rome. In war, Marcellus, you can't just look straight ahead, you have to see what's going on behind you too.

And lastly, no matter how this situation ends, no matter what we must do...remember that fateful day. The day I declared war on Iberia and disgraced myself for you. The day I gave up all honor for you. The day I gave up everything, that you may become consul and lead Rome into the golden age I had prepared it to see. Marcellus, if you thought I had lost my soul in Carthage, you were sorely mistaken. You see, without a soul, man can't feel pain. But your treason has pained me far greater than you could ever imagine. So remember that fateful day, and when you pass unto Hades to be judged and sent to your rightful place in the afterlife, ask yourself, "What did I possibly think I wanted from Tartarus?"

Servius

---

Northern Sardinia

Oppius was stunned. In shock. His mind was a swirling whirlpool of questions, assumptions, contradictary information, and guesses.

If the surprise meeting between himself and the general of a large Carthaginian army under a banner of truce wasn't shocking enough, the discussion that took place in the tent was truly staggering. That Muttines of Corduba should speak to him as an equal, even make suggestions that had the whiff of orders beggared belief.

Had Servius really made a peace deal with Carthage? Was he really going to use this Punic army to bolster his campaign against the Senate? An army that had just laid waste to the city of Caralis? Was that really the payment that was needed to secure the deal? Would Servius really stoop so low?

No, thought Oppius, there is every chance that this is some kind of trick! Those Afrikans were reknowned for their treachery, surely this was just some kind of underhand skullduggery, designed to exploit the divisions within the Republic. After all, it was the kind of thing Oppius would do were the roles to be reversed.....

What if those "suggestions" that had been made by Muttines on how to co-ordinate their strategy were falsehoods? What if Carthage were not to keep their part of the bargain? Oppius and his legion would be hung out to dry - they wouldn't stand a chance!

Oppius found his eyes narrowing, his breathing became deeper, angrier, more focussed. No, he wasn't about to walk into a trap laid by those Carthaginian dogs! Or - he gasped - what if it was actually the Senate who had struck a deal with Carthage? What if this was all some kind of giant double cross, some wicked conspiracy?

No, Oppius would not be fooled so easily. For now he would at least make the effort of pretending to follow the "suggestions" of his new ally. But he wouldn't make a definitive move, not yet.

But still, one thought dominated his mind, I must make contact with Servius!!!

Luca Mamillus



North of Rome



Callimachus landed heavily as he jumped off the horse, a grey Tunisian stallion he somehow managed to buy from a Carthaginian merchant in Syracuse a long time ago.

“So what are the news?” I asked as the greek walked cautiously dodging the puddles and climbed the steps to the entrance.

“Well, Rome is quiet.” He said. “Are you not going to offer a tired traveller a warm drink, or better even, a warm woman?” apparently he was not too tired.

I chuckled and let him in. Sidonia, the prettiest slave I had brought with me, was setting the table in the kitchen. For the things that we needed to talk about, the large dining salon seemed inappropriate. Besides, it was nicer to sit by the fire.

“Wash your hands you barbarian.” I said, and took a seat at the table. Another slave brought water for Callimachus’ hygienic needs, and Sidonia poured warm wine. “Now leave us.” The slaves hurried out of the room.

I checked the doors, making sure there was a guard on each one. The trusted praetorians were on their posts, and I exchanged a few words with them. They were all patricians, and they have all become almost family.

As I returned to the room, Callimachus was pouring more wine in his glass. “So…” I said.

“We are going to meet Servius at the ford.” He said. “The three armies.” I nodded. It was the most logical option. This would be the battle for Rome. Servius’ veterans from Gaul and Iberia against newly recruited cohorts, gallic rabble, and an amalgam of Italian tribes. Of which I commanded a third. Fantastic.

At least in the last few days, I had managed to go to Rome. My need for revenge got duller and duller since Servius had landed, but I still needed to find the assassins to get the closure I would need later. If I lived, that is.

The city was tense. The usual market cheer was still there, but it was tense, dangerous, worried. Like a disturbed hive. There were more soldiers on the streets. And everyone who had the opportunity, including most senators had left. I visited my house, only to find it empty, and then tasked Callimachus with finding out anything he could about my wife’s dealings during my absence. For the first time in 8 years I cared. The gods must be delighted, I thought.

I didn’t spend much time in the city. It made me nervous. It is like there was a great pressure on my chest that I couldn’t quite remove. I visited all the temples, made all the necessary sacrifices, and with the priests satisfied, made a long stop at the temple of Mars. It was him who had to favour me now. If he didn’t it didn’t matter if the others did. I hoped he realised that as well as I did, and it mattered to him. Because if it didn’t I’d have to explain to the others very soon why I spent twice as much in placating Mars than any of the other gods. I wasn’t looking forward to that conversation.

"Damn this rain!" thought Oppius. 5 straight days it had rained, a ceaseless, driving rain that chilled a man to the bone. Oppius was soaking wet, full of cold and very miserable. And in his misery he drew deep into himself, lost in thoughts of the Civil War, intruege, Carthaginian armies and double-crosses. Especially the latter.

After his meeting with Muttines of Corduba , Oppius had agreed to his plan for them to try and sail seperately to Italia. At least one of them would be able to dodge the Senate fleet waiting to intercept them. Oppius didn't like 50/50 odds of survival. So he had at least gone through the motions of loading his men onto the ships, but slowly, oh so slowly. And once his scouts reported that the Carthaginian army had boarded their ships and sailed towards Italy, Oppius immediately began unloading his legion.

He was still unsure of their loyalty. A letter had arrived from his brother assuring him that Servius really had struck a deal with Carthage, but was this just more Senate trickery? And still there was no word from Servius. But if Servius had made such a shocking deal, Oppius was sure of one thing. As soon as their usefulness had been consumed, Servius would dispose of them as one would dispose of a toilet rag. A disgusting but necessary tool, to be discarded as soon as possible.

With that in mind he had come a conclusion. He couldn't risk trying to cross the straits to Italy, but what he could do was retake Caralis from Carthage. Or what was left of it. The sight and smell of that burning city still haunted him, filled him with rage and anger at what Carthage had done. Just talking to the locals after his meeting with Muttines it was clear that they were the perpetrators of this vile act. Oppius couldn't wait for the civil war to end so he could head to Afrika once more and burn their cities as Carthage had burnt Caralis.....

These were the thoughts that filled his mind as his legion plodded south through the rain. He was rudely awoken from his pondering by the agitated cries of his bodyguards. Through the rain he could hear shouting and the bang and crash of sword and shield. What was going on he thought to himself as he turned round on his horse and.......ye gods!! There charging into the right flank of his column was the entire Carthaginian army!!! A quick glance revealed the banner of Muttines at the head of the charging horde!!

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A thousand thoughts swirled round Oppius's head in that split second. How had we missed them, there is no cover to our left?! Why didn't they ambush us from the trees to our right? Why are they attacking us? Why are they here and not in Italy? When did they come back? Who are they reallyworking for? And above all else was the realisation that the banging and crashing he had heard was not the clash of arms, for the armies had not yet joined. No, it was his veteran Principes. They had spotted the enemy ambush before anyone else and they were taunting their surprise attackers! Jupiter bless the Roman soldier he thought, who else would taunt an enemy who had just ambushed them?

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And then things began to move at a lightning pace and such thoughts were totally gone from his head. His army was in column and outnumbered 2 to 1, they were fighting for their very lives, all of them.

The fire crackled with little intensity, an ominous allusion to the sound of battle as heard from a great distance. A reminder of the clatter of arms and armor, the din of battle drowned out by distance but still so clearly recognizable as its own, unique noise.
Servius stood beside it, apparently alone, but as the darkness hides the creatures of the night, so too may it hide man. The clatter of hooves approached, and Servius turned his back to the flames, bathed in an eerie orange glow, he faced his uncle with a twisted smile.

"Marcellus, and without your legion. Some honor remains in you yet."

Servius spread his cloak to reveal that he was unarmed, and that wicked smile faded from his face, instead, there was a flicker of a frown.

"Thank you for coming Marcellus." He said, taking a seat on a rock beside the fire, and dullfully poked at it's core with a stick. "I'm glad you could make it. But you know as much as I that this meeting could not be avoided."

Marcellus grunted. He was in the same foul mood as before, when he and Oppius had met Servius at the fort in Afrika. This time, however, he spared no energy in hiding it or being a good host.

"Spare me the long-windedness Servius," he said testily. "You say your peace, and I'll say mine. I have to get back to the command tent. The six generals are going over strategy for tomorrow. Together."

He watched the fire for a minute. Servius took this as a sign that he was not done, that he was thinking of something else to say, but after another minute Marcellus looked up.

"Well?" he demanded. "Are we going to talk or did you ask for this meeting so you could just waste my time?"

Servius smirked. "Everything that can be said by me has been said Marcellus. I have given you the answers you saught, or did you not receive my message? I asked you here today because I want to hear your side of the story."

Standing again, he eyed Marcellus with little expression of interest, but there was that cold, emotionless stare that anyone close to Servius had learned meant he was analyzing you. He was studying you, like you were some kind of puppet for him to play with, and he was the one pulling the strings.

"The senate is in dire need of reform Marcellus. I see it, you have to see it, the world sees it, and they mock us. Half these 'barbarians' we conquer live more free lives than most Romans do. Because men who had once been wise and just are now tyranical, irrational and gluttonous in their thirst for power. They abuse their stations, they abuse their privelages, and they abuse the trust the people placed in them. Are you listening to me Marcellus?" Servius barked the last remark, his tone getting angry. "What have I worked so long for Marcellus? You preached peace, you wanted domestic improvement, you wanted change, you wanted a halt to the wars, but what do you do now? When I present you with the oppertunity to end the problems that have become more of a plague on the Republic than a hundred of the gods' worst scourges, what do you do? You turn on the plans you helped to forge? For what!?"

With what looked like a glimmer of humanity in his eyes, Servius stared directly into his uncle's gaze. "You may think I died in Afrika, Marcellus, but trust me, when you see the worst of horrors that a man can see, that is not what kills you. Doing nothing to try to prevent them from happening again is what kills you. The senate started this civil war when it realised what I was doing. In a war with Iberia we would be bringing men with free spirit, men with honor and dignity into Rome, men who would not bow a knee to blatant oppression and misrepresentation, but they didn't want that. They wanted the riches and slaves of the east, the sinful goods of conquest that would further fatten their bellies and fill their coffers with coin. I would stand beside a man defending his home, or trying to drive a corrupt politician from his village, and willfully die in the act before I would ever commit to protect a single greedy senator trying to acquire yet another trade lane, yet another caravan of slaves, or yet another pocket full of coin."

Turning his back on Marcellus then, he dropped the stick into the fire and sighed. "I am very much alive Marcellus, it is you who have died. You've let your own demons kill you."

Marcellus, tired of being stared out, gave his nephew a look right back. It was the look of a man who is infinitely tired, the look of a man who clearly did not want to be here but felt that he had to. He wondered if Servius would get the true meaning out of that look.

"You delude yourself, Servius." This was said simply and emotionlessly. It was a statement of truth, not an opinion. "You believe that this revolves around Iberia. I guess somebody has to set the record straight.

"First of all, I had no idea that you would do something so blatantly illegal when you said that you would set myself up in a great position," he began. This was accompanied with a harsh, humorless chuckle. "Obviously I was conflicted, but I still held up to the bargain and supported you. I did not vote for your impeachment. If you get past us, you can examine the records before you burn down the Senate building.

"So we were still at war with Iberia, right? Your little maneuver had passed, and I was all set to run. Everything was in the clear. I thought that you had learned your lesson." He paused.

"And then you had to go invade Thrace."

Servius opened his mouth to protest, but Marcellus cut him off. "Don't give me any of that crap about it not being your fault. You could have easily called them back. So then we're all dragged back for another impeachment vote, courtesy of you and your warmongering."

Inhale. Exhale. The next part would be rough.

"The Senate impeached you because they were following the law. Yes, certainly some Senators are not the most honorable, but they have no influence. And in times of emergency they can all be counted on to do their duty. You face one of these people tomorrow in Luca Mamilius.

"So you were all set to be impeached. With just a couple of weeks left in your Consulship. All right, I thought. Let Aureolus have his fun, he can rule for a couple of weeks and then I'll beat him in the election. But then, you see, something happened. YOU STILL DIDN'T GIVE UP.

"If you really wanted to reform the Senate then there was a perfect time coming up. The Session of the Summer of 250 BC. We have laws governing that sort of thing. The corrupt Senators you were aiming for probably wouldn't have even showed up to vote, which means they would have passed easily. But you didn't wait, which completely throws your argument into the fire."

At that very moment a spark popped from the fire. Both Aemilii stared at it for a second, and Servius started to speak.

"Shut up," Marcellus said, cutting him off again. "This war is being fought because one man does not want to give up power. Not for anything as noble as trying to purge the Senate. It was a nice move trying to make me the bad guy, really. But it didn't work. Soon the people will find out that you hired the Carthaginians who just sacked Caralis to help you out."

Servius grinned, shaking with a silent, sinister chuckle. Marcellus just smirked. "Oh yes, I know all about Muttines of Corduba. Admiral Appius saw with his very own eyes his men boarding your fleet. Luckily he is a very smart admiral and immediately attacked. In case you didn't know, your fleet has been thrown off-course and six ships have been lost.

"That in my mind lost any chance of me having any sympathies for you. No true Roman would make such a sickening move as to hire people who just murdered innocents to invade Italia. Faced with the choice of a man who does that or a bunch of greedy old men, I'll take the greedy old men. At least they're harmless."

At this, Marcellus took out the only thing he carried with him - a scroll.

"I am giving you one last out," he said in the same tone. "Surrender now. Naevius and Ignatius too. Give yourself up to the Senate, and agree to stand trial in Roma. If you do that, I promise to put a good word in. It's more than you deserve. So, what's it going to be?"

A couple of seconds passed. Marcellus grinned. "Yes, you can speak now."

I delude myself do I Marcellus? Yet you say those amongst this senate who are least honorable hold the least influence. Numerious Aureolus, Lucius, Tiberius Coruncanius, now yourself. All men of "influence" in the senate. Blasphemy! They're men of wealth, greed, nothing more.

The only delusion I've clung to Marcellus is that you might have an ounce of common sense left in your brain.

And Thrace, hah! You'll attempt to berate me for foreseeing this civil war before it occurred? You're truly a fool. Thrace happened to place my enemies as far away from myself as possible. Lucius and Tiberius have now willingly abandoned the east to Thrace because they can't stand the thought of losing their despotic little nooks of power amongst the senate. They'd sooner lose the eastern half of the Republic.

As for Caralis, what Carthage does to its own people is not my concern. Really Marcellus, don't try to make me look like a fool when you know nothing of the reality behind the situation. Caralis was and always has been populated by Carthaginian men, conquered long ago by Rome yes, but when was there ever an effort made to move Roman blood to that isle? Use your brain Marcellus, don't feed me your rhetorical crap. Carthage burning Carthaginian households, what does that matter to me? And don't give me your crap about there being ways to "legally" change the senate.

What kind of laws are drafted only by the rich and powerful, without the say of the comman man? Only ones that will never change in favor of the common man. And that is the state of Rome today. The senate would never review its election procedures, that would mean the vast majority of them would lose their power. You really think these are popular men? Don't be naive!

Get out of my sight Marcellus, your blindness sickens me. You are a disgrace to the Roman name, just like those you stand beside. Make your prayers to Mars and bleat your sheepish cries for Jupiter's blessings. You will need every ounce of help you can get in the battle to come.

Marcellus got up, made for the exit of the tent, and then turned, facing his nephew for what could very well be the last time.

"You know," he said, "you sicken me. You did not deny or express regret for the fact that you provided aid and assistance to Carthaginians, our greatest enemy. So for all your talk about the Senate being filled with 'men of wealth and greed,' the Roman people will never stand for a ruler when this information comes out.

"Sooner or later, whether it be by tomorrow evening or right before your death (or both), you will realize your fatal flaw:

"YOU *ARE* MORTAL."

Marcellus turned and exited the tent, with a final parting of "Fortuna be with you, nephew." Servius could hear hoofbeats heading away from the tent, back to the Senate camp.

The meeting had concluded. The battle for Rome was about to begin.

Servius turned then, taking one last look into the fire. "Carthage, heh... always one step behind Marcellus, always one step behind. By the time the people realise it was I who payed them to fight for me, what remains of them will be tossed into the trash alongside the traitors of Rome. Enemies can be useful allies for a time, but they're infinitely disposable."

Stepping outside, he looked up into stars, a final thought on tonight passing his mind. "Six generals uncle? Six? Does it really take that many men to contest me?"

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"Fine then, it begins."

Oppius stood as high as he could on his horse, the better to see the panorama of the battle unfolding before him. He had positioned himself on the far right flank, barely moving from his position when the ambush was sprung. His Centurions had quickly and efficiently moved their cohorts to face the onrushing enemy, and now he could see that all his infantry were engaged.....and yes, there, just in the distance he could see his Velites moving round the left flank, preparing to launch their javelins into the Carthaginian rear. As he tried to take it all in, formulate plans, one of his officers caught his attention.

"Sir, the Funditores are signalling that they are out of stones."

What? Already? It seemed like only seconds ago he had ordered them to engage the Carthaginian second row, at least 5 or 6 cohorts of Skirmishers. They would have more luck against them than throwing their missiles against the front of the well armoured African Phalanxes.

"Very well, order them to find a gap in the lines - there are plenty of them - and try and attack an enemy cohort from behind" But what am I to do? Now that his entire army was engaged, there were no tactical niceties to be observed, no grand strategic plan to unfold, no subtle ploys with which to deceive the enemy. Now it was a bloody hand to hand struggle between the infantry. Last man standing wins. Oppius knew he had 2 choices. He could ride amongst his men and try and encourage them, or he could use his bodyguard as shock cavalry, try and break the enemy line. He wanted to do the latter but the Carthaginian line of skirmishers was too close to the main battle line. He couldn't flank without being drawn into combat with them - the lesson of what had happened to the Consul Amulius Coruncanius against multiple cohorts of Macedonian skirmishers had been hammered home to them at the Scriptorium...

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But then, a stroke of luck! A maniple of Triarrii had beaten back their opponents on the Roman right! Oppius rode down to them quickly and ordered them to advance on the enemy javelin men. Now with space for his Pretoria to manoeuvre, he wheeled round and set up to charge into the rear of the Carthaginian left. Oppius licked his lips, Muttines was engaged in a melee in the centre, this was his chance to roll them up, one unit at a time!

He charged! His men mowed down maybe a dozen or more enemy...........but they held! He reformed his men and they charged again! And again! And again! And still the enemy held! And to make things worse the 2 cohorts he was trying to break re-organised themselves and now their rear ranks faced his cavalry - not enough to present a wall of sharpened points, but enough to slow down and blunt the effects of his charges. Panic began to seep into Oppius's mind, why wouldn't they break??!!?? As his men reformed, a dwindling, exhausted group, horses and riders coated in sweat, blood and dirt, he could see that the Carthaginian weight of numbers was beginning to tell. In the distance he could see a handful of Roman soldiers fleeing! No! His line was thin and beginning to crumble, the battle was slipping away from him, and with every second it slipped further and faster away from him. Fear started to seep into his bones, he had to think, and fast. Suddenly several javelins thudded into the ground around him, another into a horse which reared up and threw its rider, a scream and he turned round to see another rider skewered through the thigh. He whirled around to see hundred of enemy skirmishers bearing down on him, a pile of dead bodies - many Roman - behind them.

"Sir, we must get out of here" one of his 2 remaining companions pleaded. He needed no second reminder, spurring his tired horse away and out of the fray. By now his entire army was in retreat. Now and then an occasional maniple would regain their courage and try and make a stand, but it was futile, they may as well have tried to stop the sea tide. Where he could he urged them to the seek refuge in the woods, but many were caught up and lost.

On the other side of the woods he stopped on top of a low rise to survey the stragglers making their way to safety, and their he spotted his supposed ally, Muttines of Corduba. Like Oppius, Muttines only appeared to have 2 surviving bodyguards. "Maybe I can salvage something out of this yet...."

He charged down the hill, 6 men and 6 horses clashed. But both sides were too tired and too well armoured to make a killing blow on the other. Oppius had hoped his downhill charge would give him the edge, but when it didn't, he knew he had to get out of there. He was no use to anyone dead.

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As the broken, shattered, exhausted, demoralised, weeping remnants of his legion crawled their way onto the fleet, Oppius collapsed into his cabin. He clapped for a slave. "Water, wine, and a scribe. I have letters to write"

The Senate Command Tent, the night before the battle

Marcellus Aemilius, having just returned from the fateful meeting with his nephew, dismounted. He wasn’t quite sure why he had agreed to go through with that. Servius was a traitor, he should have brought some guards with him and arrested him right there! But no, he couldn’t. It was not his way. He knew, however, that by the end of the next day, he would regret it a thousand times over for each man killed, each good family shattered forever.

Decius Laevinius was waiting for him at the entrance of the tent. “How’d it go?” he asked.

Marcellus sighed miserably. Decius chuckled.

“That bad, eh?”

“Yeah, that bad. I’m pretty sure he knew about Carthage.”

“And his reasons for starting the war?”

“Power grab.”

Decius nodded and beckoned to Marcellus. Together the men entered the tent, where four other generals were waiting for them. The men present were not who Marcellus would handpick to fight this battle.

So we have Decius’ father, Publius. He was a fine Roman – twenty years ago. But then he lost that eagle at Massilia Ford and hasn’t seen any action in over a decade. My tribune Augustus Porcius is a fine man, but he’s just that – a tribune. The man simply doesn’t have enough talent or combat prowess to advance to legate. Vibius Domna was utterly useless as Governor of Roma, and has never fought a battle. Oh well, perhaps he might surprise us all. And then there was Luca Mamilius, the man who was in the spotlight once about 30 years ago for saving Verginius’ life, and ever since that he had been drinking and womanizing. Where’s Lucius or Coruncanius or even Numerius when I need them?

Marcellus, who was unaware of what happened for the past thirty minutes or so, spoke.

“All right, what do we have?”

Luca spoke up. “Marcellus, Servius’ army is coming from the north, reinforced by Quintus Naevius and the garrison of Ariminium. The deep woods to the north are shadowing their movement somewhat, but we believe that Servius is on the eastern flank and has the garrison in reserve.”

Marcellus nodded. “And our placement?”
Decius now took over. “You’re going to be facing Servius, with me in reserve. As we all know, Servius is the person we need to target so we’re concentrating on him. Besides, he’ll probably summon the Ariminium garrison commander (let’s see, what was his name? Appius Ignatius.), so you’ll need some help anyway.”

Decius’ razor-sharp mind had most likely gone through every possible scenario, calculating and inferring, until the optimal strategy would surface. Although he had never been in a battle before, this man was an excellent person to have around the night before one. The question was, would he lose face in the moment of truth?

The generals talked about strategy long through the night. Luca was arguing for wearing Servius down, Decius for shattering him with a massed cavalry attack. Both had merits. However, the main strategy, which none of them spoke of but all of them knew, was to bring down the man himself. Capture or kill Servius, and the war would be over. There would be no one else to take over. The people were loyal to him. He was the chain of command.

The tent soon had another occupant. The six generals stared. Was it an assassin who managed to get past the guards?

No, it was a young man dressed in battle-armor of a Roman patrician. The man’s handsome features could not hide his young age (sixteen) or the traits that so commonly identified his family. Kaeso Coruncanius, brother of Manius and loyal to the Senate, had joined the group.

Decius was the first to speak. “I thought Marcellus had ordered you south. Away from Roma.”

Kaeso scoffed. “I cannot, in good graces, stay away from this battle at the moment where every man counts. I have brought fifteen loyal Praetorians with me. We can, and want to fight. We want to redeem the Coruncanius honor.”

Augustus Porcius, mostly quiet, spoke up in a gentle tone. “Son, this is not the place for someone your age. Do you have a death wish?”

Marcellus chipped in. “Please, Kaeso. I do not any more Coruncanii dying needlessly. Go back to the Scriptorium. Live a good life. Teach future generations about what took place here, and why we are still a Republic.”

Kaeso, however, was adamant. “How can you say that? How will I be able to live with myself, teaching all those people about what happened? What will I say when they ask where I was? Marcellus, your brother Oppius was the same age when he was at that Battle of the Fort, and his intervention was decisive! Why can’t that be me here?”

Marcellus knew that the next argument would be futile but said it nevertheless. “That was different. Oppius was-“

“Oppius was my age! Don’t be a hypocrite, Marcellus. I saw through that letter that Servius sent to everyone but after this, I’m not so sure. I’m staying.”

Marcellus, beaten, sighed. “Okay, fine. If you must. Stay with Luca. He’ll need some help against Quintus.”

And so, the seven generals, ranging from sixteen to sixty in age, went to sleep. By the next night the war would either be won or lost. Dreams would be fulfilled, or careers shattered forever. But all thoughts of glory and the Republic soon turned to sleep. Night was upon them all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Morning

Before they marched, the soldiers looked at Marcellus expectantly. It seemed like they were expecting a speech; some encouraging words from their general to lead them to victory on this most critical of battles. Even Augustus Porcius, Marcellus’ tribune, was ready for one. But they would be denied.

“In order to win this battle I am going to have to exhibit a colossal disregard for human life,” Marcellus said to Augustus. “If I look too many of these men in the eye I am afraid that I will not have the guts to do what is needed. These men know me from Afrika. They know my style of fighting, and they know what is expected of them. That is all they need.”

Marcellus would establish his headquarters somewhat behind and to the left of his infantry reserves, leaving Augustus to command the critical Senate cavalry on the right. Reinforced with the Praetoria of Publius Laevinius and Vibius Domna, they would be an unstoppable blow to the Consular forces, smashing through the flank and rolling his army over. This would be the day where all doubts about Augustus Porcius would be proven wrong. This would be the day where he would become a major player in Roman politics, taking a leading role in the reconstruction of the Republic.

And it would be a glorious day for Publius Laevinius too, if Fortuna smiled upon the Senate that day. He had been a has-been, a relic ever since he was stripped of his titles and positions over ten years ago. This would be the day that he put that all behind him, and regained his honor, either by proving his worth on the battlefield or dying a glorious death.

Or both.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Forwarrrrrd… MARCH!”

The general plans were simple. Marcellus’ advance guard was to wait up for the rearguard, and then they were to engage and destroy Servius’ famed Iberian veterans (with some help from Decius). Then, Marcellus and Decius would turn to the west and finish off the last army loyal to the Consul, the one belonging to Quintus Naevius.

However, no general in the history of warfare ever had the battle go exactly as planned out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Late Morning

Augustus Porcius was getting worried. Sure, it was perhaps anxiety before his moment of glory but he had been in battles before. Something was wrong. The Numidian skirmishers expended their javelins to little effect, and Decius was taking too much time to bring his army up. The man was probably still thinking that he was in Corinth, drawing up the plans for the construction of a new building. By now, Servius’ lackey Appius Ignatius was probably up with his force. It was small, but still packed a punch, and if they came for him… Augustus shuddered. Better not to think about it. Publius Laevinius was a reliable commander who was probably anxious to prove himself after the disaster at Massilia. He would bring with him 60 fine Praetorians. That would be enough to overturn any flank.

Then he saw two things happening. First, to the left of him, Marcellus’ army was advancing at a slow pace.

“Why?” he thought to himself. “He knows the value of this flank. Shouldn’t he wait until Publius comes up?” And then, to the rear, he saw what he had been looking for. Publius’ Praetorians, as well as some Gallic alae, were moving to them. This was more than he had hoped for. He grinned. This battle would be over sooner than anyone had hoped.

…

Marcellus was watching it all, calmly. He was worried about the left flank, particularly if Quintus defeated Luca quickly and moved on to crush him, but said nothing. If all went well, Servius would have other problems.

He saw a rider coming in from the west. In the far distance, a few units of Italians were heading their way. This would either be a welcome blessing or terrible news. The rider came up to Marcellus and delivered his message, breathlessly:

“Sir! I am a runner for the Italians currently approaching the field! Luca Mamilius sends them, along with his compliments!”

Marcellus looked at the rider in wonder. “Then… he must be doing better than expected against Quintus! How goes the fight to the west?”

“What fight? The two haven’t engaged yet!”

Marcellus now took on an expression of puzzlement. “Then why would he send them…? No matter. We’ll put them to good use. Tell whoever is commanding them to flank those Roman troops to the left! As soon as they are pinned, flank!”

The rider took off with a “yes, sir!” leaving Marcellus to continue watching the armies move.

Across the green fields of Latium, the same fields that Marcellus and Servius had crossed to meet one final time the night before, the same fields that would soon be soaked with blood, over two Consular armies marched to destroy the other. Some men, those who were the most intelligent, wondered what the Republic had come to, when it sends Romans to destroy fellow Romans. Some looked upon the other side with utter distaste, convinced that their enemy had abandoned all thoughts toward ruler and country. And some, notably the Afrikan and Gallic mercenaries, were suddenly regretting their chosen line of work when they saw what lied ahead of them.

But they all marched forward, nonetheless. And then they came together, engulfed in the fiercest melee the known world had ever seen. For there were no Gallic or Thracian alae to muddy the waters. This was nothing but Romans against Romans. Italians against Italians. The one Afrikan phalanx unit engaged looked worlds out of place.

But on the right, things were not going as well as hoped. The entire Ariminium garrison had come bursting out of the woods, buoyed by support from Servius himself as well as Appius Ignatius’ escort. Augustus Porcius had no choice but to retire. Decius’ Gauls were coming up, but Publius Laevinius’ 60 Praetorians were not moving. This was bad. If they didn’t have those Praetorians and Servius attacked…

“You there! Numidian!” One Numidian javelinman looked up at Augustus.

“Have you got a good horse?” The man nodded. “Make for those Praetoria in the rear. Tell them that Servius is threatening to overturn the flank, assistance requested. Don’t stop pressuring him until he moves. Got it? GO!” The Numidian took off, leaving Augustus in a far larger state of worry than his commander.

…

Marcellus studied the situation. So far, all was pretty much going well, except for the situation on the right. But Publius would soon be up. He saw a rider going from Augustus to Publius’ Praetorians and now it looked like the man was conversing wildly with the elder general.

On the left, the result was unclear. The two Roman legions had fought each other to a standstill. Luca’s Italians looked to turn the tide, but a group of Servius’ Iberian mercenaries had come from nowhere and were now making progress against the Italians. In addition, a unit of Consular cavalry had come from the west and was threatening his missile units, but he had enough troops to bog them down long enough to charge in and hack them down himself.

In the middle, the Italians and Afrikan mercenaries were doing a fine job, but eventually Servius’ numbers showed and his men began to be flanked. Being attacked on two sides and about to break, the Italians were aided by Marcellus’ Second Senate Legion – the reserves. They charged in, counterflanking and routing Servius’ men after they put up a short but fierce resistance. The middle battle had been decided, with a huge hole in the center of Servius’ line and only ¾ of a victorious Second Senate Legion standing.

But on the right…

Augustus Porcius couldn’t believe it. This was not the way things were supposed to happen. A large body of Consular forces had charged, threatening to swarm around his men and destroy them all. Publius was nowhere in sight. He had seen the Numidian man reach Publius and talk with him with his own eyes, but apparently it was to little effect. The Gauls would not help much.

Another Praetorian looked at him. “Sir? Your orders?”

Augustus sighed. The Consular forces were getting dangerously close. “Damn it all. I’m going to kill Laevinius if we survive this. Charge! Break through those Italians and try to bring down Servius!” The horn blew, and soon some 150 horsemen, less Publius’ 60 Praetorians, were charging at the men bearing down on them.

The impact was horrendous. The sound of iron upon iron, men getting trampled, and horses screaming would have been too much for a normal man, but these were all battle-hardened veterans and knew their duty. So the terrible destruction continued. Within minutes every soldier’s uniform was stained with red from the blood of men and horses.

For a minute it looked like they were going to break through. The equites had been inflicting grievous damage on a unit of Italian Swordsmen, and only their commander was keeping them from breaking. Thinking quickly, Augustus turned and hacked the man down, bringing the weight of his depleted escort down on the already-beleaguered Italians. That was enough for them. They turned and fled, leaving… precious daylight. Augustus roared in triumph. They had done it.

But that daylight evaporated in an instant. Instead, Augustus’ men were now facing what seemed to be a mirror image. But there were two differences. First of all, these men were more numerous. And secondly, their uniforms were sparkling in the sunlight.

Servius had committed his own escort and Appius’ to stop this desperate charge.

Instantly, several other men that were breaking rallied around their Consul. Servius barked an order, and they swarmed in against what was left of the Senate cavalry. The effect was devastating.

“Come on, men! Charge! Bring him down! Bring him down! Rally to me! Forward, men!”

The remnants of the Senate cavalry pushed forward, desperately trying to break through once again. But this time there were simply too many enemies. Augustus watched as his brave men dropped. His dreams were slipping away. There would be no Consulship, no triumph. He would never see his wife, Julia, again. His world was ending.

He felt a sharp pain in his gut and tumbled off his horse, staring at the sky, blood seeping out of his stomach. Marcellus would recognize his corpse as just another body in the Senate in his dream. Augustus stared up at the burning sun as he passed.

The sun was blotted out, as the man who had killed him looked down. He stared into the face of Servius Aemilius, who gave him the briefest look of pity before moving on.

His last thoughts before his life trickled out were “Damn you, Laevinius.”

…

From a distance, Publius Laevinius witnessed the massacre that was taking place on the right. With his were his escort and Vibius Domna, who, along with the Numidian, had attempted to make him go forward for the past hour.

“You see, young Domna, this is why I chose to ignore all of you juniors when you pressured me to move in. We would have been along with them and died along with them. I may be old, son, but I am not stupid. Of course that attack would have failed. I have just saved all of our lives.”

Vibius Domna nodded. This Laevinius guy wasn’t that big of a disgrace after all. He would follow his orders without question from now on. Meanwhile, the Numidian rider that Augustus Porcius had sent to deliver the message looked on in frustration and despair. Those men would have made the difference and he was probably the only one that knew it. The battle would now drag on unnecessarily, costing many more lives.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Early Evening

Marcellus Aemilius had no time to visit the body of his tribune. His escort had just destroyed the Consular equites and now he was redirecting the Second Senate Legion, who had just finished off the Ariminium garrison (along with Decius’ Gauls and –finally- Publius’ Praetorians) to face the west.
Servius’ famous army, as well as Ariminium’s garrison, had been destroyed. Only the two enemy escorts had survived, and they escaped through the woods. However, it had nearly taken Marcellus’ army with it. All of his forces, including Luca’s Italians, had either perished or routed. Only his own escort and the Second Senate Legion were left standing, but Decius’ forces were now up. They had taken light casualties so far, but were of inferior quality.

Marcellus read Servius’ response to his surrender request one more time

Quote:

---

I cannot flee from fate Marcellus, or the ghosts of what could have been would haunt me forever.

Promise me, when this day is over, Eutropia will be well cared for.

Servius

---

and crumpled it up. Servius had escaped and linked up with Quintus Naevius’ elite army, which was heading straight for him and Decius. There was more fighting to be done. And this would not be easy.

Maybe I should threaten him with her, he thought, and shook it off. He couldn’t do that. He was still a true Roman, and he would see this fight through. If Servius wanted to see his last army still loyal to him (he received word that Oppius had been ambushed in Sardinia, further inciting his hatred for his nephew) go down fighting, then they would go down fighting. But Servius wouldn’t live to see it.

Marcellus marshaled the Second Senate Legion and pointed at Quintus’ army, which was forming into a defensive semicircle and would soon be attacked on all sides. The men that were left listened to him eagerly. Finally, they would hear a speech.

“Okay men, this is it. This is the time that we right every wrong that has been done in the past year by that man over there! His last army is trapped, and we are going to be the hammer blow that destroys him forever.

”We're going to make an all-out push on the right flank. We are not alone in this. Decius' auxiliary Praetoria and his Gauls will be aiding us in this. We're going to overrun his flank and then turn and smash his center. Do not stop until the last man is either dead or waving the white flag! FOR THE REPUBLIC... CHARGE!!!”

The men cheered and charged in, but something was wrong. Marcellus buried his head in his hands when he saw what it was.

Publius Laevinius had refused orders again.

Servius had fallen back, and the flanking push was ineffective, as they only faced light troops. Marcellus called off the attack and led his men into the woods for the night. The day had been something of a success, but the original objective –win the war by nightfall- had not been met. Tomorrow would be it, for sure. It would be a fight to the death for Quintus Naevius’ army. They had no way out.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Night

The three generals met in Decius Laevinius’ tent. The mood was tense. All present felt that this meeting should have been a celebration, and not a strategy discussion. In any case, there was little to discuss. Decius gave his father Publius a good dressing-down and threatened his unit with decimation if he did not obey orders.

Luca proposed the idea of a unified assault at dawn. The other two acknowledged the idea’s merit, knowing that it was the only way to win. The number of generals present was less than half than that of the previous night. Publius Laevinius was dismissed from the meeting early, Augustus Porcius was dead, and Vibius Domna was not even invited. Kaeso Coruncanius, much to his protest, had been assigned to oversee the Consular prisoners captured.

The men left the tent talking of enjoying the next night in the comforts of Roma, drinking the drink of the victorious (Marcellus, a noted teetotaler, was even considering joining in, saying to himself that he would need it after this).

No chances, he thought to himself. We go in together, and crush Servius through sheer numbers. Gods, I hope that he is captured. He deserves to die a thousand deaths for what he did to Oppius alone. I no longer hold any empathy for him. Thank Fortuna that Oppius survived and that he’s out of the war, but Servius needs to stand trial and face the consequences.

When returning to his headquarters, Marcellus was also informed that his spies had intercepted a message from Servius bound for Oppius. Marcellus read it over and smirked.

Well, if all else fails this could be useful.

He slept, knowing that the day ahead could potentially be even bloodier than the one that had just ended.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dawn

“Come on, men! Faster! Keep pushing!”

It was the start of what could be the last day of the war. The Second Senate Legion, backed by Decius’ Gauls and (possibly) Publius’ Praetorians, were crashing through the woods, aiming to come out and crack the Consular semicircle, hopefully destroying Servius himself.

“Move! Just a little further!”

The men could see daylight up ahead. Finally, they would be out of these woods. Finally, they would collapse on Servius’ semicircle, after being delayed in the previous evening. The soldiers closest to the action reached the edge of the woods, they burst into the open fields…

The first thing that they noticed was the smell. Having been in the woods for about twelve hours, they had been relatively immune to the after-battle reek that was permeating through the fields, as the trees blocked most of it. But now, the stench was so overpowering that many of the soldiers stopped in their tracks, doubled over.

This bought enough time for Servius to detach three units of hastati to fight off the Senate advance in the north. Marcellus, annoyed to the point where he was immune to the smell, frantically ordered his soldiers to push forward.

“Come on, men! They smell it too! Three hastati here means they’re not somewhere else! Keep pushing! Once we’re through these it’s victory!”

The remainder of Marcellus’ forces obeyed his orders, although for different reasons. The Second Legion desperately wanted everything to be over, and reluctantly started to surround their fellow Romans. Meanwhile, the Gauls were caught up in the fighting, and were howling in a battle frenzy. Marcellus was screaming at them to push forward and searching for any sign of Servius. The thoughts of Publius Laevinius, half a mile away and disobeying orders once again, were out of his mind. It was now completely taken over by his obsession of defeating his nephew forever.

All signs of organization were nonexistent. The battle had devolved into a brutal melee. Quintus’ army was being pressed on all sides. Marcellus could vaguely make out a cavalry engagement to the south. But none of that mattered. All that did was…

…kill…

Marcellus rode every which way on his horse, much to the aggravation of his escort. The man was shouting himself hoarse, yelling at soldiers that weren’t there. The rage had taken over.

As the Senate forces pushed on and the sun rose higher in the sky, more men continued to fall. Every soldier, inspired by either their general’s encouragement or hope that it would soon be over, operated with a ruthlessly cold manner. Mars demanded blood, and they would give it to him. And when they gave blood to him, they would find the nearest enemy soldier and offer him to the god of war, father to every Roman as well.

Marcellus continued screaming everywhere, in sharp contrast to Decius’ continued attempts at organization or Luca’s pulling himself together after barely surviving an engagement with Servius’ Praetorians.

“Forward, men! Keep up the fight! They’re almost broken! They’re almost broken! Just a little more, and you have won the day! Flank them! Crash through! Don’t let up! Don’t stop!”

One of Marcellus’ Praetorians leaped off his horse and tackled Marcellus to the ground. Marcellus snapped out of it and looked around. It was over. Quintus Naevius had surrendered.

Marcellus, quickly meeting with Decius and Luca, looked over at where Quintus and Appius Ignatius stood and looked over at his allies quizzically.

“Quintus surrendered? Did we bring down Servius?”

At this, Quintus spoke. “I did. He insisted on fighting to the death. I had to do something to save my men, so I killed him. His body lies over there.” He pointed to a fallen man that wore the Consul’s helmet but was most definitely not the Consul.

“He was a proxy for Servius. I have not seen Servius since several days ago. This man has been giving orders to us for the Consul’s safety.”

The Senate generals, but especially Marcellus, were disgusted. Servius had escaped, and they had no cavalry to pursue him. The hunt would begin immediately, but for all purposes, the Battle for Rome and the war was over.

Thousands of bodies littered the fields of Latium. The terrible casualties taken at Ancyra less than a year ago looked like a skirmish compared to this massacre. The fields of Northern Latium, especially to the east where the first terrible engagement had taken place, had turned a dark red. The civil war had ended with a decisive Senate victory, but not a completely crushing one. Servius was still at large.

That night, back in Roma when the three Senate generals (including Marcellus) shared drinks to celebrate, there was a hollow feeling in all of them. They had won the greatest battle since the time of Alexander, but the experience had changed them forever. Each general, as well as each soldier, would be infinitely hardened by the experience.

But they had won.