Civil War Stories, The Will of the Senate

This thread is for players to post any in-character stories they wish to tell about their characters in the lead-up, execution and aftermath of the looming Civil War which is likely to end the Will of the Senate PBM.

Please do not involve other players' participants without their agreement (e.g. no knifing them or putting words or deeds into their mouths!). Co-authored or multi-part stories are encouraged.

The streets of Rome bustled as if all was normal as the young man barged his way through the city streets, he jostled many and knocked more than a few over. They threw him angry glances but upon seeing his garbs of rank, they paid him no more heed and busied themselves to just get out of the fuming youths way.

All but one person.

“Hold there my boy! Hold!”

Manius kept moving, tears burnt in his eyes and he fought them down with every ounce of courage and will he could bring to bare upon them. He would not win, would not see him cry again.

Through all this effort he had stumbled and slowed….a rough hand grabbed him at the shoulder and spun him about.

Manius put up his hand to strike his attacker but another hand grabbed him at his raised wrist.

Before him stood Decius Curtius, his eyes blazed with an inner fire and vigour well beyond his advancing years would seem to allow, and those fearsome eye bore into Manius’s very soul, seemed to drain him of fury and fight…..Manius let out a long breath.

“Look at me boy…look…at…ME!”

Manius complied, how could he refuse?

“What outburst was that boy!? What possible difference do you think you could have made in there?”

Manius tried to tear his face away from Decius but his hold was too great.

“You would leave me behind boy? After all I have done for you, arranged for you, suffered for you these past years! I MADE YOU! Don’t you DARE to do that again!”

The hand came from nowhere. Had Decius actually let his grip go from Manius’s shoulder and wrist?? He didn’t think so, but there it was a slap! A firm and reprimanding slap to Manius’s cheek!?!? Manius was dazed, confused and felt more alone than he’d ever done before.

Decius moved Manius to one side in the street, people were beginning to stare.

“Listen boy, you must leave for your Legion now. It is not safe in Rome for anyone who would call the Consul ‘Friend’ is that understood?”

He grabbed Manius’s jaw and yanked the younger mans face towards his own and with more firmness…

“Do you Understand…..boy?”

Manius meekly tried to nod. It was apparently all the confirmation Decius wanted and he released Manius.

“Take a ship from Tarentum strait to Asia-Minor and re-join your army”

“….bu…but…..what of my wife and family?” stuttered Manius

“Don’t worry about them young master…” Decius was full of honey in his tone now, soothing and compliant, the perfect servant again.

“….I’ll make sure they are looked after don’t you worry. Now go, and don’t look back I shan’t be here.”

With that Manius stumbled onwards, he did look back, but true to his word, Decius was nowhere to be seen. Manius was openly crying when he reached the stables and mounted his horse. He composed himself just long enough to order his Pratorians where they were headed too, and they rode off as fast as they dared.

Decius watched from the shadows.

“..oh, yes, don’t you worry my boy….your ‘family’ will be looked after very well indeed.”

He looked at the dagger in his hand then swiftly stashed it in his sleeve. It would be easy, Manius’s wife knew Decius well as Manius’s tutor and long-time friend. Obviously he was much more than that, and it would be easy to slip the stiletto into her soft, yielding throat. As for the Children, perhaps he would consider not calling until nightfall, even he found killing children abhorrent.

If they knew about it that is…….

Somewhere west of Arsinoe, Asia Minor

As the dust kicked up on the dry road to Pessimus, Numerius reviewed what was left of Legio V. It was a bedraggled column of less than 400 men. Numerius smiled bitterly. He was expected to lead an uprising against the Consul - not just a Consul, but possibly the most fiendishly brilliant Consul in Roman history - with less than 400 men!

What had happened between the second impeachment vote and the present was like a blur to Numerius. He could not even remember how the votes were cast or what angry words were said after. All he knew was that Rome was at war. Not with yet another alien power, but with a vastly more formiddable and lethal foe - itself.

Marcus, Numerius's "heroic saviour" and captain of his Praetoria rode up to him.

"It's good to be back in the saddle isn't it, sir?"

Numerius smiled bemusedly at the young nobleman.

"Good?!? Good, to be preparing to kill my fellow countrymen?"

Still, Numerius knew what Marcus had meant. It did seem to be a long time since he had taken to the field. Numerius had enjoyed a meteoric early career as a young tribune, leading commands and fighting battles far above what would be normal for someone of his years. He had restlessly pushed forward under Consul Lucius Aemilius. He had scored coups such as eliminating the Macedonian dynasty and capturing Byzantion.

But these glories had been at the cost of the enmity of much of the Senate - their scorn and bitterness temporarily driving Numerius out of politics and allowing the young viper Servius Aemilius to slip into the post of First Consul. Yes, Numerius had had his share of glories. He had been there, with Praetor Coruncanius, in the crucible when the successor states briefly threatened to over-run Europe. Together, under the Servius's inspired direction, they had fought a brief but spectacular campaign, decisively breaking the Seleucid invaders.

But soon after that Numerius's military career had all seemed to falter. It stalled abruptly, just as he had achieved his most sought after goal - killing the hated Seleucid General Molon, the butcher of Co-Consul Publius Pansa.

A new, younger man man had arrived in the east - Manius Coruncanius - and brought with him a powerful new Consular army. Manius had approached Numerius warmly and welcomed him as a friend. Numerius had dared to hope that some of the Consular army would be used to reinforce his own depleted Legio V, so that he could continue to fight the successor kingdoms. But it soon dawned on Numerius that he had been sidelined by the Consul and that Manius, with his Consular army, would do all the fighting in the east from that time onwards.

Yes, Numerius knew what Marcus meant: after being denied active duty for several years, he was now finally back in the saddle and he could not complain about a lack of enemies to fight.

" 'Good to be back in the saddle'?!? Marcus, you really are a numb-skulled dilettante! Does it mean nothing to you that we have to seek out and kill our fellow Romans? Kill our own brothers"

Marcus shrugged and looked at the ragged column passing by. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that, Sir. Reckon it will Manius and his Consular army that will be doing all the seeking out and killing, not us."

Numerius spluttered with involuntary laughter, then scolded: "It's not funny, you oafish dilettante! He has, what, around a thousand men. And we have, what...?"

"Somewhat fewer than that, Sir." Marcus said smiling.

"And this is a source of amusement to you?" Numerius demanded.

"Well, for a great coup leader, you've set yourself up in a pretty piss poor position, haven't you, sir?"

Numerius belted Marcus over the head, knocking his helmet over his eyes.

Marcus feigned indignation, then said in a leisurely voice: "Oh, I forgot to tell you, sir. Manius is here to see you."

"WHAT?!?" Numerius looked around in panic, instinctively reaching for his spatha.

Then Marcus said calmingly: "No, no, no. Not THAT Manius. Manius Aemilius, you know, the governor of Pergamon, Manius the Mad."

Not for the first time that day, Numerius thought he could kill his infuriating captain of the Praetoria.

The Eternal City

Jack sat down and examined the print-out on his lap. The sound of the Fiat cars beeping their horns reverberated around the bus. God, he loved this city. The raven-haired women with their flashing eyes, the bravado of the young men in their leathers and scooters, the architectural reminders everywhere of a gloriious past. But most of all, Jack loved his work.

Professor Muscatelli had given Jack the photocopies and told him to knock something up by the end of the week. Jack had devoured the replicas of the dusty scrolls. Admired the fine script of the long dead scribe, marvelled at the attention to detail of the Senate librarian. Even while Rome burned, this man had stayed at his post - diligently documenting the events around him for the benefit of posterity.

But this reverie was not going to get his assignment done, Jack thought. And so he set too. He transcribed the names of Rome's generals and the strength of their forces in Summer 250 BCE, entering all the data into his computer. Let's sort this by army strength, though Jack. Then add some colourful graphics. How about some avatars from that geeky website? Yeah, they'd do. Christ, that guy's ugly - look at those eyebrows! Let's use him for Numerius. Yeah, that will annoy the Professor. He always spoke admiringly of Numerius. Heaven knows why, the guy was a stiff. Servius was the cool one.

OK, OK, enough goofing around. Now what did Muscatelli want me to do exactly? Ah, that's it - try to figure out the loyalties of the key generals at the start of hostilities. I don't have much time right now, so I'll just mark them in rough first. Those on the side of the Consul can have a big purple "C" next to them; those on the side of the Senate can have a "S" but what colour? Red and blue are too close to purple - let's go with green.

So, how does it look? Pretty damn even. Too close to call, I'd say. Christ, this is my stop. Gotta get off.

https://img82.imageshack.us/img82/4199/generals2np9.jpg

The Final Night at Narbo

Servius was down on one knee. It was a sight that she knew she should have never seen, and something she knew she would never see again. She knew he was in prayer, as nothing short of a god could bring him down on one knee, but she couldn't help herself. He was leaving soon. Watching him in secret through the folds of the crimson drapes she fought back a weep of sorrow. He had told her last night by this time today he would already gone, but she knew him better than that. She knew him better than anyone. She knew his goals were good, his heart true to his words, but even for all the nobleness of his intentions, she knew also that there was always that flicker in his midst. For that, she prayed for his soul.

Stories were often passed around at night, from the mouths of servants and soldiers, tales of the long campaign in Carthage, of the blistering heat and sand that ate the skin of men in blinding storms, accounts of eavesdropping guards during Servius's meeting with Marcellus and Oppius. The whole campaign had made him somewhat of a legend amongst his own men, these soldiers would follow him to the ends of the world, and so would she, but their reasons were so very, very different.

It was hard for her to look at her husband in such a light. She knew him as the kind, loving, gentle man that he had always been to her, generous to all in his wealth and ever in good nature. She smiled at thoughts of their meeting in Rome prior to his campaign in Carthage, and their startling reunion upon his return, but as her thoughts trailed to their wedding day, she found it almost unbearable not to sob. She couldn't stand to see him leave this way. A man of principle she knew her husband may be, but until the senate starting talk of expansion further east and negligence of Marcellus as the next consul, she had never thought that it would ever come to this.

No longer able to watch her husband in his final prayers to Mars before his departure, she tried to quietly slip away from the curtains and return to bed, but the moment she moved he spoke. "Eutropia."

"Yes?" She responded after a pause, a feeling of guilt passing over her as she was caught.

"Thank you for saying goodbye. I love you." He didn't turn, he only stared forward, eyes locked on the bust of Mars, glaring intently into its marble face.

"I love you too." She said, then stepped away from the curtains and headed back to their room, wiping a tear from her eye. She would need a good sleep before returning to Palma the next day.

Servius stood then, and closed his eyes. He knew she was no longer there, but he continued to speak regardless. "Do not pray for me." He had spoken his final words to Mars that day, and he had a good idea of what events his actions may bring, but he was prepared to face his judgement no matter the cost, if it meant the salvation of Rome. "Any god who would aid Roman men in the killing of Roman men is already forsaken in my eyes. I have already told Mars I do not need his help in these coming days. My sins will be my own to bear, I have no choice but to make the greatness of the ends justify the errors in my means."

He shivered, and there was that flicker in him again. That one that had disturbed Marcellus to the point of fear, that one his men had seen in their battles in Carthage and relished for the victories it brought. It was that cold, quiet, calculating, emotionless and intense stare. It had brought the egregious slaughter of the Seleucid and Carthaginian foes, and prompted even his greatest opponents to acknowledge him as a political viper and a tactical genius. This time, for the betterment of Rome's future, it would be unleashed upon her living past.

The vast estate stretched for miles. Levia sat straight in the saddle, watching the approaching group of riders. One of them wore a senator’s toga, while the others, 5 in total followed, speaking in pairs or trios, as the road allowed. The senator waived closer the man Levia recognised as Callimachus of Cyrene, a known philosopher, that was helping Luca fight his boredom and outbursts of anger with contemplation, rhetoric conversation, and military games, and that was now in the role of a scribe, with a roll of papyrus held over a firm leather support to help him write.

As the group approached, she could hear that Luca suggested getting the roads paved and widened so as to allow two carts or 5 mounts to pass through, while Callimachus suggested improving the water supply to the crops first, so that the land could be irrigated regularly.

“But once we build the roads, my dear Callimachus, will not that make the construction of irrigation easier?” I posed to the philosopher.

“Of course, Luca” he said “But you must think of the money you will spend before you can enjoy the benefits of this work.”

“Will I not be able to travel faster and more comfortably on paved roads than I do in this bog? And will that not make me happier than a few extra jugs of wine I sell?”

At this moment I saw her. Levia was just a few paces down the road, walking the horse ahead of the two Nubian guards. I had been so entangled in the conversation I did not raise my head at the next bend of the road, so we came very close before I noticed we were not alone. Of course the next few words Callimachus said were wasted.

“Make it happen, greek. And hold my horse.” I slid off the animal and walked towards Levia. Despite all the other women, she had always been special. She was the main reason I kept visiting my son in law in Ariminium and my son’s estates in Narbonensis. I could get wine much better than this from my own vineyards at Syracuse, but it is the sheer pleasure I saw on her face that made the journey worth the while.

“Well, it has been a long time, senator, since you last visited. Are those matters of state more important than me?” By Mars, I had missed her.

“The Gods have kept their servant busy. Besides, there were all those other women ahead of you. It is a long way from Rome.” I laughed. She came very close, slapped me, and then hugged me. “Well, maybe you have learned a thing or two from them.” And she kissed me.

I laughed again, and looked back at my retainers. Marcus Valentinius, was looking back, as if he could see something that behind us. “There are two horsemen following” he said.

The Nubians stared at me. I waved them to the sides of the road, and came closer to the side of the horse where my scabbard was. After what had happened in the Senate, that fool, our consul, had tried to get me poisoned twice, and a woman died because of it. My fist clenched in anger. After the dispute on the senate floor, I mean to leave the city immediately and retire from political life, but personal affairs that needed settlement and other issues concerning my position entertained me in Rome for longer than expected, and I heard news of the assassination by the consul. In the Senatorial building! No wonder the Gods do not smile upon the republic! Has he forgotten who put him in the senate in the first place? Has he forgotten whose money he is spending so lavishly?

A messenger from the Senate Speaker reached me the night before I was due to leave requesting me to attend an emergency session. I had my doubts, but attended anyway. I watched in silence the best of Rome: white togas, tanned skin, white hair, in the ghostly light of the torches, with the night outside – such was the fear of the Consular repression, that the Senate had assembled before dawn – all assembled to vote on the impeachment of the Consul, and his prosecution for treason.

Several voices had declared themselves supporters of the Consul, and I heard later that 4 of them had been assassinated that night, with the rest able to leave the city and taking the grim news with them. The motion had passed. Relief was notable, and the Senate Speaker was tasked with delivering the news to the Consul, who was campaigning in Iberia, with complete disregard for the voting procedure.

I could not stay in the city any longer, and the matter seemed closed, so I left.

…Levia was talking to me. I stared at her, still lost in the contemplation of past events, for a few more moments, before I could understand what she was saying.

“Senator, this man is an envoy from the Senate” she repeated. I breathed out, closed my eyes, opened again, and the world was in focus once more.

The priest, Servius, leaned closer from his mount “Sir, Mars will give you strength. Maybe we should take this matter somewhere more private.”

“Servius, this is no matter for you, I said, but I will take the message from the Republic.”

The messenger gave me the papyrus roll, intricately bound and stamped. “Will there be a reply, sir?” he inquired.

“I cannot know until I read it, can I?” I was growing irritated. “You will get my reply tomorrow.”





That night was a sleepless one. Levia was long asleep, but I was in my working room, with the models of the ballistae, walls, and other military and civilian buildings, among them an unfinished water mill I was considering installing in Syracuse. They had been built by Valentinius, Callimachus and myself during the days of bad weather of which there had been surprisingly many. The table was covered in papers. Mostly there were accounts, but also plans, tax returns, and I knew somewhere there was also a translation of Alexander’s campaigns I have been meaning to read for almost a year now, and kept carrying with me everywhere I went.

At the top of the pile the senatorial message. Civil war had broken out. Senators and armies were taking sides. And the Senate wished to know if I was with them or against them. In fact, as far as I remembered, I was the closest commander to Rome, and if I could seize the city, whichever part I aligned with would be almost half way closer to winning the war.

I paced the room again, and again. “Wine!” I shouted into the darkness, and a minute later an arm pushed a cup into my hand. I put it on the table, and sat, with my head between my hands, applying pressure to my temples to silence the voices.

The dancing light of the torches and oil lamps reflected in the gold and the stones of the cup, and made the red wine look like blood and smoke. I felt the old forgotten feeling rising. It was the same feeling you had when you stood under enemy fire, and the arrows obscured the sky, and you had to stand tall, shield up and take it, and despite everything there was nothing you could do until the arrow fell. And life could last just as long as it took the arrow to come down, but never shorter, and you wished the damn shaft would fall already so you could live or die, but get out of that suspended, expectant state.

10 years of military service. 10 years! Since I was tribune at 25, the most promising officer of my generation, until I wasted my youth and my life in bleak governorships, mistresses, temples and races. I was sorry for myself. I was so far beyond redemption it was pointless to even pretend I was the man I used to be, and the man I had hoped I’d be.

The opportunity was mine for the taking. I could lose myself completely, seize Rome, rule in my own name, not in the name of the Senate – too weak to withstand one man’s ambitions - or the Consul – a man I would kill if I saw in the street -.

I fell asleep.

Two strong arms were shaking me. “Master! Master! You must wake up! Fire!” I opened my eyes, and there was a nubian shaking me, and Callimachus holding the door.

“Quickly, leave the building! We will all burn!” I ran, followed by my retainers, through the corridors and patios, with the smell of burnt wood and oils in the air, and the smell of something else. I had smelt that before. It was burned flesh. I turned back. “Where is Levia?” “Where?” Callimachus and the Nubian pushed me out to the street, where all the inhabitants were gathering. “Levia!” I shouted over and over, with no answer.

I sank on to the paved courtyard. She was asleep on my bed which is where the fire started.

A group of Nubians approached, dragging a man in a slave’s tunic. “Sir! We caught him trying to escape through the servants’ quarters! This is the man who started the fire!”

I think I went white with rage, because the Nubians stepped back. I came close to this man. He smelled of cheap wine, and oil, and smoke. “Who do you work for?” I asked in a low voice. I was mad with rage, so mad, it made me lucid, and calm, with everything boiling in the inside, capable of anything.

The man was mute. “Torch!” I turned to the nearest man. It was Valentinius. I didn’t look at him. I stared at the man the Nubians held. “Torch, sir”. I turned around to take it.

I looked at my arm and then slowly moved the torch closer and closer, until the hairs burnt, and the skin began to break, and the smell of my own burnt flesh was in the air. I held it for a few interminable seconds. I didn’t feel the pain. I stared at the man who could not take his eyes from my burnt forearm, and the torch, and the wound that was becoming bigger. Finally I dropped the torch and then held my arm close to the man’s face. “If I do this to myself.” I paused “Imagine what I will do to you.” I said in the same low voice. The Nubians holding him were afraid, I knew it. The man opened his mouth. “It was Servius Aemilius” he mumbled.

I turned to my servants. “A horse, armour.” “Oil for my arm” “Callimachus, give the order to assemble my men.” One of the Nubians asked “Sir, what do we do with him?” I looked at the man. “Burn him.”


Callimachus was startled. “Where are we going, sir?”
The die was cast. The Gods had pushed my in one direction only. I would stand with the Senate and against the Consul.
“Rome.”





Next morning was grim. I was lost in my thoughts and my misery, and forgot to set up camp, and rest, and the soldiers were not happy. Towards noon, after having marched for hours, Callimachus suggested a stop. I assembled the centurions and ordered to rest.

The next stop would be Ariminium, where my son-in-law, Appius Egnatius was governor. I set off to walk around the camp. I could not sit still. Activity was the only drug that kept me from thinking.

A few hours later, Valentinius found me sitting beside one of the camp fires. He sat beside me. “I have news” he said. “Bad news.”

I looked at my friend. “There seem to be plenty of those.”

“Egnatius has locked the city. He received envoys from the Consul and now will support him. I don’t know if…”

“Enough” I interrupted. We must beat him to Rome.

“Muster all my cavalry. We will go ahead of the infantry and try to hold the mountain and river passes until the main army can reach Ariminium and lay siege to it. Recruit mercenaries to bolster my force if necessary.”

He nodded.

“Tell the centurions to pack. We are leaving immediately.” He nodded again.

“By the way, there is no fleet nearby that could take us to Rome, is there?”

“I’ll find out” he said. Then he turned and walked into the darkness.

Outside of Lepcis Magna

...was it really, though? The climate was more temperate, there was no smell of the sea, and the buildings were marble. Nothing like the Carthaginian-influenced architecture of Lepcis Magna. So where was Marcellus Aemilius? Where was he, anyway?

And then he saw the Senate Building, and realized that he was in Roma. Beautiful, glorious Roma. But something was wrong. The Senate Building, in all its majesty... was burning. Chaos. Anarchy. Pandemonium.

Marcellus was about to alert the Vigiles when he spied a large bucket of water near his feet. The Vigiles would take too much time. It was up to him to put out this fire consuming the heart of the Republic. Marcellus picked up the bucket and rushed up the stairs, and into the building.

...the entire interior of the building was in flames. The various statues of the Gods, the Speaker's platform, the Upper and Lower Chambers - all were being consumed. These flames were the largest and brightest he had ever seen, and they would leave no survivors in their path. Nevertheless, Marcellus was determined to put it out. He raised the bucket to splash the water onto something, anything, but the bucket had shrank to the size of a goblet. At that very instant the statue of Jupiter Optimus Maximus crashed to the ground. The flames crackled in triumph.

Marcellus turned and was about to run, when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. There was a corpse lying on the floor. Its blood had stained the ground around it. The eyes looked up, glazed, at the ceiling of the building, which looked like it would come crashing down any minute. It was Marcellus' brother, Oppius.

Gasping, Marcellus wheeled around and saw more bodies. His other brother, Manius the Mad. His wife, Magna. His two children, Julianus and Augustus. His father, Lucius, and his mother. All had blood around them, and all were looking up at the weakening ceiling.

Suppressing the urge to vomit, Marcellus began to run as fast as he could, but after three steps he tripped, crashing onto the marble floor. He looked around to see what broke his run, and saw with alarm that it was the corpse of the Senate Speaker. The old man's left arm was straight, clearly pointing in another direction in the building. Ignoring the flames, Marcellus made his way to that direction. What he saw was a graveyard with no burials.

His colleague and sometimes rival, Numerius Aureolus, was dead. Bloody and glazed eyes, just like the rest of them. Next to him was the legendary Tiberius Coruncanius. Dead. Galerius Vatinius and Decius Laevinius. Dead. Cnaeus Caprarius, dead along with the clerk that he had killed in frustration. Appius Bartabus, Valerius Paullus, Luca Mamilius, and Secundus Salvidenius. All dead. Titus Vatinus and Publius Laevinius, two of the lesser "Founding Fathers" of the current period of expansion. Dead.

There were more. Marcellus saw the bodies of Gaius Rutulius and Marcus Laevinius, two long-departed senators, in the Corpse Room as well. Cornelius Saturnius, who had recently been lost at sea, was still lying dead here among the rest of them. He saw Amulius Coruncanius and Publius Pansa. Dead. He saw the corpse of Vibius Pleminius, all battle-lust vanished from his face, that same blank expression that comes with death in its place. He saw the body of Augustus Verginius, his friend and somewhat mentor. The legendary Quintus was nearby, also dead. He saw the Founder of the Republic, Lucius Brutus, lying there too, dead. Much like the Speaker, he was also pointing.

In a state of shock, Marcellus followed Lucius' path, and came upon the body of Romulus himself. He was dead like the rest of them, burning along with the city he founded. All was lost.

"Looks like you're next," came a voice from the shadows. Out stepped the generals on the side of the Consul, looking very much alive and angry, decked in full battle armor. Manius Coruncanius leered. Quintus Naevius snarled. Flavius Pacuvius made a threatening motion with his gladius.

Out stepped Servius Aemilius, carrying a burning torch. He was decked in robes of crimson and had an unmistakable crown on his head.

"The time has come, Marcellus," he said. "Do you swear fealty to your Emperor?"

Emperor. Senate burning. Roma falling into ruin. Jupiter already fallen. Apocalypse.

Marcellus awoke with a start, sweating. He was in a tent outside of Lepcis Magna. He had a full-size Consular Army at his command. The city (Lepcis Magna, that is) was about to fall.

Blinking, he realized that it was all a dream. A vision of things to come, perhaps, but still a dream. Marcellus found his Tribune, Augustus Porcius (loyal to the Senate, as Jack would indicate 2,256 years later). He said nothing of the disturbing dream.

"Augustus," he said, "we are in the wrong place. Prepare to lift the siege, and contact Admiral Appius. This army is needed elsewhere."

The Eternal City

Jack loved Professor Muscatelli. Quite why a tall, handsome 25 year old research student pumped full of testosterone would love a short, balding, overweight middle-aged man was not something Jack wanted to delve into. But how could you not love a man who gave you assignments like this:

"Summarise the dispositions of the rival forces in the Roman Civil War at the end of Summer 250. Pay special attention to the battle of Ancrya."

Ok, thought Jack, let's look at my notes:

Right, Servius, let's start with him - the main man. He was ... on a fleet, sailing to Rome. Wow, he got quite far. Should make landfall in a season or two. And he's got Quintus Naevus heading to Rome via Massilia. Why didn't he march with Naevus? Well, no one could ever figure him out during his time, so what chance do I have? And poor Quintus Libo - he's stuck out in the wilds of Gaul, being hounded by Iberians. Um, he left his ford position - may not have been wise, with those strong Iberian armies around, but I guess there was no point trying to bleed the Iberians to death while Rome burned.

And the Senate forces in Greece and Thrace. Pah. They'd scarcely moved. Slowed down by hiring a few pathetic mercenaries. What a bunch of losers. Except that Decius Laevinus - the guy had a mind as sharp as a steel razor. Woefully under-appreciated by his peers. He nipped across the sea from Apollonia and frantically started trying to create an army to oppose Servius. That old bruiser, Luca Mamillus, he was doing the same in north Italy. Wait up - who's he roped in with him? What! Publius Laevinus! Crumbs, that's a name from the past. I thought he was dead by then or something? And what were they calling their hordes of Gallic mercenaries? "The Third Field Army"?!? Get out of here! Servius's veterans would carve them up like a hot knife through butter. Publius would have known that better than anyone. I guess the guy had a black sense of humour.

Umm, mustn't forget to report on Lucius Aemilius - his Second Field Army had just got ripped apart from within. Gnaius Hordeonius tried to break off those units with commanders loyal to the Consul. By the time the mutiny was over, Lucius had lost all his principes and two strong spear units. Ouch, that's gotta hurt. A few cowards refused to side with either the Consul or the Senate, so Lucius left them at Sarmisegetusa. All of them probably ended up getting squished by the Thracians. That's what happens when you stand in the middle of the road - you get run over. What happened to Gnaius? Lucius didn't want him executed, as the Senate were still trying to sweet talk his father, Titus Vatinus, into declaring for them. Well, that did not work out so well for them, did it? Anyway, let's see - Gnaius. Oh yes, Lucius left him imprisoned in Sarmisegetusa. Poor guy. I bet the Thracians had some fun with him when they overran the place.

OK, I think that's Europe covered. What about Afrika? Oppius Aemilius is sailing towards Carthage. Flavius Paucuvius is marching closeby - probably looking for some support facing down Marcellus Aemilius. But what's this? Flavius has gathered a bucket load of top class mercenaries - including elephants! His army numbers over 1700. Reckon he doesn't need Oppius's support now. So what's Marcellus up to? He's boarded his army on a fleet and is just off Carthage. What's his game? Is he going to land and take on Flavius? Or is he going to race Oppius for Italy? Well that's not exactly a hard choice - unless the dude liked being defecated on by pachyderms!

And so to Ancrya. That's why I love the old Prof. He really gets the blood and the gore. "Give me a battle report!" he likes to bellow. Umm, ok, but not yet. No, right now, he only wants to know the pre-battle numbers. So, what have we got? Numerius the Victor versus Manius the Victor. Not exactly a modest bunch, were they? Couldn't have happened to a better group of guys, I think. I mean, that Numerius - some reckon he was a great Republican, trying to stave off the rise of Empire. I hate him. He smashed the Republic. He could have waited one season. One lousy season and then Servius would have stepped down, and the Republic could have gone on from the great things Servius did for it. But no, that self-important jerk had to push it, didn't he? He had to push Servius in a corner - impeach him, when that fails, well, why not try it again? And then what? Demand he be dragged back to the Senate a prisoner by some lard-ass Senate bureaucrat. Yeah, right, like Servius would have agreed to that. I hate Numerius: he broke the Republic for nothing.

Anyway, enough of my love for ol' bushy eyebrows Numerius. No, actually, that's not enough. Why did he do it? Manius was coming for him. Why did Numerius turn around and go right back at Manius? He had no advantage in numbers or quality of men. Giving battle when you have no advantage was a big no-no in the ancient world. Real generals maneouvred for days to get the slightest edge. But not Numerius, no. He took the same subtle approach he used to smash the Republic. Bull in the proverbial China shop.

But why? I know him. That was not who he was. He might pretend to be the new "Alexander" but I've read his letters. He was a chicken - had no more confidence in his ability or that of his men than the Professor does with hot female grad students. Where's that letter he wrote to Marcellus Aemillus? There it is - he says it, right there. He wanted to skedaddle. Run right for Rome and blow "honour". All he cared about was Rome and Servius. He had no beef with Manius. So why didn't he run? He could have made it. He had a headstart on Manius. Was it because Titus Vatinus and Manius the Mad were blockading the straits? No, they could not have stopped Legio V, not after it had recruited all those mercenaries. Was it because he did not want to surrender the east to Servius? No, he did not care a damn for the east. He only cared for Rome. So why?

Hmm. Let's see - who's this? "Appius Barbatus"? I'm sure I heard that name before. Right - Numerius's ex-Tribune. Took over Legio V while Numerius went off the radar for a few years. Now, where did Appius come from? Whoa, he came from far to the east. Ah, I get it. Numerius could outrun Manius but Appius could not. So Numerius joined forces with his ex-Tribune and forced a showdown. Dumb, man, dumb. Who would have cared if Appius got squished? He was not important, Numerius - you said it yourself. Only Rome and Servius mattered. You knew that. Just like you knew you could have let Servius finish his term in office. You knew it and you blew it anyway. And that's why I hate you, you self-righteous prat.


The battle location and Numerius's Legio V:

https://img146.imageshack.us/img146/4770/ancrya1vq9.jpg

Reinforced by Appius Barbatus:

https://img228.imageshack.us/img228/4547/ancrya2yk8.jpg

Ranged against Manius's Legio II:

https://img228.imageshack.us/img228/2664/ancrya3td7.jpg

Reinforced by his adopted son, Placus Calvinus:

https://img228.imageshack.us/img228/7748/ancrya4yu4.jpg

"You call that a river?"

The soldier was visibly embarrased.

"That's a creek, at most. The water can't be more than ankle deep. Why are you still on this side?"

"But sir... the gully, it's... too steep, for.. for the horses. They couldn't cross."

"We're not leaving without the cavalry. How long will it take to rebuild the bridge?"

"Four hours, maybe."

"You don't have four hours, you have one hour."

"But, that's impossible."

"Do you want to be known as the man who destroyed the Republic? Servius is on his way to Rome, and we have to stop him. I can defeat him, but I have to get there first, and if I don't, it will be your fault. You will be remembered as the man who destroyed the Republic, and also the worst engineer in history. The man who couldn't build a small bridge even when the Republic depended on it. I'm sure Servius will appreciate your incompetence, you might even get a road named after you or something. Although I'm sure it would be a poorly built and ill-maintained road. Why are you still here? Go! Build!"

The engineer ran off. Tiberius was approached by one of the senior centurions, who asked

"Is Ammianus back yet?"

"No, not yet. Tell me, how is it again that there is a civil war on, Servius is marching on Rome, and we're here, stuck in the middle of Pannonia?"

"Well, sir, I didn't want to bring this up in front of the men, but there have been strange things happening lately. I mean, every single bridge we came across had been sabotaged, and in every forest we crossed there were brigands, and the Thracian army is always one step ahead of us, we've had to march south far more than we managed to march west. It's like everyone knows where we're going to go. Do you think we might be cursed?"

Tiberius laughed. "Oh, we're not cursed. Servius is cursed, or he ought to be. It's a lot simpler than that, we have a traitor in our ranks."

"A traitor? Who is it?"

"I have some theories, and I suspect we'll find out soon enough. By the way, there is no Thracian army, those reports have been false."

"That's impossible. Tribune Ammianus has personally led most of the scouting parties."

"Indeed he has. We shall not discuss this further right now," said Tiberius as he rode forward to meet Tribune Kaeso Ammianus, who was arriving at that very moment. "Anything?"

"No," answered Ammianus, "we rode about 12 miles down the river, but there wasn't a suitable crossing. Looks like we'll get delayed again."

"Yes, again. Strange, isn't it? It once took me a week to cross the mountains of Eprius, all the way from Apollonia to attack the Macedonians at Pella, and here it's taking me three times as long to cross a shorter stretch of Pannonia, which, as you may have noticed, is rather flat and without many obstacles."

"Yes, you must be getting old," Ammianus smirked.

"Oh well, at least we won't have to deal with those Thracian horsemen on the other side for a few more hours."

"Sir?" The centurion interrupted, "those look like our Thracian scouts."

"Oh, look, they do," said Tiberius sarcastically. "I must be getting old. I completely forgot that I had sent the Thracians to scout the river before I sent the Tribune and his scouts. Funny how they seem to have found a way across, isn't it?"

The three men sat upon their horses in silence for a moment. As the centurion reached for his sword, Ammianus bolted away, exiting the camp at full gallop. The centurion moved to chase after him.

"Hold it! Hold it!" yelled Tiberius. "We don't have time for this, we have to keep moving. Get the army ready to go. We have a war to fight."

Luca Mamilius



Bononia was within reach. The life in the saddle felt good. The physical exhaustion made me sleep black dreamless nights, and the army exertions kept my head occupied.

That is, until very recently. After the attempted deal with the pirates failed - the Gods seemed to prefer the land route to Rome – the journey has been fairly regular. The deep forests, the green plains and pastures, and the farms of the gallic and Italian farmers. We even managed to recruit some of them to support our cause. The poor fools wished to see Rome. It was some kind of comical seeing them strap their old man’s spear and shield and fall into the mob that was following me instead of an army.
Little did they know, that in any kind of battle with any number of Servius’ veterans 10 of them would die for each roman Servius brought.

In any case, it was better than nothing, and hopefully after we took Bononia there would be true romans willing to shed their blood for the Republic.

Callimachus approached. “Luca, this letter was left in my tent this morning.” He was holding the letter in his outstretched hand. “It is addressed to you, so take it! I’m bad enough on a horse! I need both hands!” I took the letter. It only had one line in it “Servius is in Rome. Alone.” It was not signed. My heart raced. All my newly acquired tranquillity vanished in a moment. Servius. In Rome! Alone! What were the Gods playing with me? Was this a dream?

“Callimachus, am I dreaming?” I was staring at the letter. Finally I showed it to him. “I believe you are not.” He said. “Why would you dream with me?” the bugger was laughing. “Is this not your wife’s writing?” he added after a short pause during which I couldn’t help smiling. He was right though. It did seem very similar to my wife’s writing. That was very odd. My wife had never been interested in politics, and why would she not write a proper letter instead of the cryptic note I just received?

As if I wasn’t hasty enough, this was another reason to get back to Rome as quickly as possible. “What is going on in Rome, Callimachus?”

“Well, Rome, trapped between your ‘army’ and that of Decius Laevinus, has declared itself for the Republic, so your wife should be safe…” I interrupted. “Any other news?”

“Well, apparently the dominance in the East is to be decided at the battle of Ancyra, where two full sized consular armies with allies and auxiliaries were gathering. With the famous Manius and Numerius Aureolus in command, it should be quite the battle…” Now he was just trying to cheer me up, and kept blabbering about the forces on each side, and where they had served, and how many prisoners would be reasonable to take.

“What about Afrika?” I interrupted again. “Well, in Africa Senator Marcellus Aemilius has lifter the siege of Lepcis Magna and is marching towards the sea to board the fleet that will take him to Italy.” I moved my head with disapproval. From the strategic point of view, he should have taken the city. The man had the only strong army in the whole of Afrika, he should have secured as many settlements as possible there, and establish an economic cushion for Rome. The war needs money. And even when the war is over, more money will be needed to rebuild, then for the war with Iberia which has already been started… Besides the Iberians might just take this chance and bring war into the undefended roman Gaul.

In any case, Marcellus supported the Consul and was also racing to Rome. I was considering bypassing Bononia to be in Rome as soon as possible, or splitting my force, so that progress could be made towards the capital. I was hoping that more local farmers could be convinced to take up the sword.

Callimachus was still speaking. “Sorry, I wasn’t listening.” I smiled. “What is it?”


“I was just saying that this morning, our quartermaster bought a cart of sweet Thracian wine from a local merchant. I thought that might cheer you up.” He said with fake annoyance.

I chuckled. “Sure, greek. Now tell me. What would Alexander do?”

Before he even arrived in the city, the messenger knew that something was wrong. He had been sent by the Consul Servius Aemilius with a message for his uncle, Oppius Aemilius. The messenger knew not the details of the message, but from hanging around the command tent whilst it was being written it seemed Servius wanted Oppius to remain in and secure Afrika, tying down Senatorial forces at the same time.

There were no Roman sentries posted on the approach to Icosium, no soldiers guarding the gate. In fact, as he rode into the city he quickly became aware that there was no visible presence of Roman Authority whatsoever. When he asked the locals for the Roman governor, they merely looked at him with faint amusement. When he asked who was in charge, he was told the mayor was ruling the city in the name of Rome.

Eventually the Mayor was tracked down. He had been left with a cohort of Numidian Auxilia and told to hold the city and stay loyal to the legally elected Consul of Rome, Servius Aemilius. It was clear to the messenger that this local mayor would do so -until a better offer came in of course, with the kind of wretched opportunism that these filthy sand dwellers are so infamous for, he thought.

"But where is Oppius Aemilius? I have urgent orders from the Consul regarding his movements in Afrika!"

The wizened old mayor grinned a toothless grin.

"Unfortunately you are too late. He set sail with his legion for Rome last week."

**************************************************

Oppius leaned over the side of the ship and threw up - again. He wanted to die. Barely 2 weeks at sea, slowing sailing eastwards off the coast of Afrika, it was clear his constitution wasn't up to the maritime life. He doubted he would survive the voyage. His light ships weren't really built for Ocean going, and slow as he was already moving, he was moving cautiously, always scouting ahead for the Senatorial fleet. He knew his Aphracts wouldn't stand a chance against the heavier and more numerous 4-deckers available to Marcellus Aemilius at the eastern end of Afrika.

Just before he had set sail he had received intelligence that Marcellus was to the east of Carthage. Just over a season away from Rome - that was where Oppius assumed he was heading. Everyone was in a mad, headlong dash for the Eternal City. The last he had heard before he had set sail was that Servius was in Cisalpine Gaul, marching overland to the capital. He wondered how long that would take.

Oppius sighed. The captains of his fleet had told him that he was still over 2 seasons away from Rome. And between he and there was possibly a larger, more powerful enemy fleet led by his big brother. He chewed his lip. Damn being at sea and being out of the loop! All his decisions had to be based on information days, weeks, even months old. And in the meantime no new orders, only vague guidelines from his nephew several weeks ago to head for Rome.

There was nothing for it. He couldn't take the chance. He would have to head north, going to Rome the long way round. Slip through the gap between Corsica and Sardinia and make a short, quick dash for Rome from there.

He wondered what the situation would be when he finally arrived.

Ancrya, Summer 250 BC

Numerius looked at the two battle lines deployed outside Ancrya, blades and armour glinting in the sun. This was probably the largest battle the world had seen since the time of Alexander. The full might of Rome in the east – the equivalent of over three Consular sized armies – was about to go into battle. But this force would not be used to topple Ptolemy or Seleucia. It would be used against itself, in an orgy of self-destruction.

Isidor approach Numerius gingerly. “You wanted me to send a letter to Manius?”

Numerius nodded, distractedly. What to say? What was there to say? His heart longed to say: let us forget this! Why should we fight, when we are brothers in arms? Why should good Romans kill other Romans? And why should the many subject people who have rallied to our flags die for a faraway city of which they know little? To hell with politics, with ambition and with feuding! Let us march east, together. Together, with the forces we command, we could reach Alexandria and Seleucia – creating a greater Roman Republic that exceeded even Alexander’s Empire!

But how could he say that? To say that would be to abandon the Senate, whose cause he had championed. He could not walk away from a fight he had started. The shame would be unbearable. And he could not abandon Rome to Servius, a man who he had long watched with horrified fascination. There was only an even chance that he would triumph today, but even that would be better than the certainty of dishonour and impotence.

He toyed with making a watered down version of his original proposal: let Appius Barbatus and Manius’s son quit the field with their forces. Let them they swear to remain neutral and to guard Rome’s eastern frontier. Already a Seleucid army was besieging a Roman border fort. Numerius feared that this army would be the first of an avalanche of invaders. But how could Numerius ask this of Appius? If Numerius himself could not abide the thought of abandoning his cause, how could he ask Appius to do so? It would be an abuse of his authority, and one that Appius would in all likelihood refuse to abide.

Isidor prompted him: “Sir, what should the letter say?”

Numerius shook his head. “Isidor, you are better with words than I. You draft something. Express my profound regret that it has come to this. Say I hope we will meet as friends again when this affair has blown over. Swear that we will look after any prisoners or wounded from today’s battle. Ask him to try to protect the life of Appius, as I will protect that of his son…”

Numerius’s voice trailed off. It was just words. There really was nothing to say.

Isidor looked down, awkwardly. Numerius smiled bitterly. This was not how a great leader was supposed to behave on the day of battle. He looked at the dejected figure of Isidor and said encouragingly, his voice rising in strength:

”Very well: send this message."

Quote:

---

To Manius Coruncanius,

You sought to bring me to battle. I have obliged. I march under the banner of the Republic and its Constitution. We have both sworn to defend the Roman Republic. Rome is not a mere city. It is an ideal. It is a place where all men can achieve greatness if they act with dignity and honour. It is a metropolis of tens of thousands who live together in harmony thanks to laws and order. And it is the mightiest nation on earth, whose power should not be abused.

Why do you fight? You fight for a man without dignity or honour, who dissembles and debases the Senate, the Constitution and Rome herself. A man who starts illegal wars to frustrate his domestic political rivals and who tricks great generals into the wilderness in order to see them undone. Why? Why do you fight for such a man? Because he is your friend? Oh, Manius – do you not see, such a man can have no friends; needs no friends. He has only servants and needs only tools of his will.

Manius, you feel compelled to choose between betraying your ideals and your “friend”. Do you not see, a man who betrays his ideals is not worthy of being anyone’s friend? At best, he can only be an accomplice, if he is a man at all.

Manius, you have lost your way. I pity you. Prepare to defend yourself.

Numerius

---

The Centurion was confused. Cnaeus Caprarius was growing impatient with his obtuse nature. Perhaps it was time to find a more politically adept assistant.

“The men need more provisions for the march, we cannot move on until we have sufficient supplies for a lengthy campaign.

Incomprehension washed across the man’s face. “But, sir, we have enough supplies for a month, and Italy is rich with farmland and grain stores. What more do we need.”

Cnaeus sighed. “Do you wish us to be the first army to reach Rome?”

The man grinned like a fool. “Of course, sir! It would be a great honor to defend the eternal city against the Servians!”

“Honor? HONOR?!” Cnaeus slammed his fist onto the map table, the Centurion and the nearby guards shuffled uneasily. “Do you have any idea what being first into Rome means?”

The Centurion moved as if to speak, then apparently thought otherwise and closed his mouth.

Cnaeus snorted. “At least you are learning. Let me educate you a bit more. Being first into Rome means being the first target of Servius’ Iberian legions. Being first into Rome means being ushered into the afterlife with rather more haste than I would like.”

A battle waged in the soldier’s mind. His wisdom was visibly assaulted by his stupidity. It seemed for a moment that the valiant defense would succeed, but a flanking maneuver by a cohort of idiots tipped the scales. “But if we do not go, Servius will take Rome, and from there all of Italy!”

“HE WILL TAKE ITALY ANYWAY! Servius has at his disposal several legions of veterans. We have mercenaries and vagabonds! If we go to Rome without support, we go to our deaths. The key is not winning the first battle, it is winning the last battle. I do not doubt that Numerius Aureolus will be victorious, but I cannot benefit from that victory if I am not alive.”

Wisdom rallied in a protected glade. Stupidity assailed the lines again, but was repulsed. The Centurion remained silent.

Cnaeus glared at him, then looked down at the map. “We do not have sufficient supplies to continue the march. We must slow our pace and gather more food, even if it takes months. Do you understand?” Cnaeus did not look up to see the answer. “Dismissed.”

-

Such fools. These men were acting as if there was an actual war going on. War involved taking foreign lands, raping foreign women, and seizing foreign wealth. No, this was different. This was an argument about who would get to do more warring than the others. This was politics.

Numerius would win. Numerius had better win. That stunt with the clerk had been designed to force the Senate’s hand, but the bastards had balked. Even after the second vote, half of the bloody Senate had joined the Servians. Men who had voted to impeach had then turned their backs on the Numerians. What kind of game were they playing at? Now the result was uncertain. Well, uncertain in some thing. One thing was known, if Servius won, Cnaeus would not have long to live. So, risks would now have to be taken, battles would have to be fought, and the dice would have to roll. But the dice would be weighted in favor of Cnaeus, that he would be sure of.

Numerius would win and Cnaeus would be instrumental in that victory. The rewards for trusted and loyal generals would be great, but some would be greater than others. Cnaeus knew that Tiberius Coruncanius and Lucius Aemilius would be foremost under Numerius. There was no way to challenge them, but they were old men. They would be removed from the race by time and the Gods. No, the real competitors were the younger men.

Lucius was a great man, but not great enough to rehabilitate the Aemilii name after the fighting. Marcellus Aemilius would be thanked and brushed aside. If Servius fell, Rome would seek to forget the Aemilii family. Marcellus would barred from power by silent consensus. Yet there were others who were not so tainted. Others who possessed armies and political ambitions of their own. Luca Mamilius, Appius Barbatus, and Secundus Salvidienus. Any of them could take the honor of being foremost of the Numerian supporters. Like Cnaeus though, they could only receive them if they survived.

Yes, he would delay. Let the trio of eager fools charge into battle and get themselves killed. The longer Cnaeus waited, the smaller the pool of competitors. Then, when the moment was right, he would make his play and grasp the laurel wreath for himself. If any of the others survived to contest the position as Numerius’ second…

Well, there was sure to be chaos in the aftermath of the fighting. Who knew what kind of unfortunate accidents could befall unwary Senators at such a time?

Cnaeus grinned.

Appius looked out over the plain. Night fires had just begun to burn in the distance, lighting up the darkening sky with their number. He had come out of his tent to survey the night’s fortifications before addressing his officers, but had stopped at the sight of the enemy’s camp.

The guard named Hortensius stood at his left shoulder, and other milled about finishing the guard tower to their right. Appius nodded in the direction of the fires. “Looks like they’re helping us out by roasting all their pigs for us to eat tomorrow.” He spoke loudly so everyone could here. There were a few appreciative chuckles, but mostly silence.

Hortensius only nodded, and spoke softly. “Each of these men fights a brother tomorrow. I would not make the usual jokes.”

Appius sighed. He knew this, and felt the spirit of the camp as a weight on his breast that would not be removed until they were all dead or all victorious. Or until he ran.

Running was not Roman. It was not noble, not brave, not something to tell one’s children about when old age permanently sat one in a chair by the fire. On the other hand, if one ran, one could be fairly sure of being old. Especially if one had planned it as well as...

“Senator Barbatus,” a voice broke into his reverie. “Numerius sends a message, and wishes you to be at his tent at second watch.”

Appius nodded, and sent the man off to reply that he would be there. Then he turned back to survey the fires in the now dark landscape before him.

It was sick, this Roman way of considering everyone wrong except onesself. Appius had sided with Numerius and the rest of the Senators who did not support Servius, not because of his Roman blood (of which he had little, being adopted), nor because of his love of the Roman constitution. He had done it instead as a payment of gratitude to all those who had given him everything he had.

He owed the Coruncanii for nearly everything in Rome: his wife, his house, his position in the Senate. He owed Numerius greatly for the trust he had shown and for the men who now stayed under his command, even at this most critical time. He even owed Numerius a debt of gratitude for the armour he wore on his back, a gift after the sacking of Appolonia.

As he wandered back to his tent, head down, he wondered. Why was he here? Why had he not gone with his wife and children to enjoy a long and slow life on the shores of the Pontus Euxinus? The Senate forces would surely win, Numerius would be given the Consulship, and with a lion like Cnaeus in the wings, surely the Senate would be safe without his help.

His answer came easily: because he owed it to Numerius, and to the Coruncanii. He had to keep up a pretense of Romanness, of honour and virtue, as long as his debt remained.

But he felt that his debt to Rome was nearly paid. One last action of loyalty awaited, and then... then he would see.

Off the coast of Carthage

"So, tell me what's going to happen again?"

Marcellus Aemilius and his centurion were outlining the current situation aboard Admiral Appius' flagship, the Faustina. The wily Admiral had split up the senior commanders on the fleet, so in case disaster struck and a ship sunk not all would be lost. Marcellus and his staff were on the Faustina, his Tribune Augustus Porcius & staff would be on another corvus quinquireme, and Appius would be on another ship.

The Senate Fleet was making good time. Appius knew what he was doing. They would reach Rome in a little over one season. But they would not get there first.

"When we arrive, Servius will have already landed and most likely taken some sort of action. Aside from the forces already around Rome, commanded by Mamilius and Laevinius, I estimate that we will get there second, just beating Quintus Naevius and my brother."

The centurion nodded. "Right, so the order goes Servius, us, Naevius and Oppius, and then later on Coruncanius, pater Aemilius, Caparius, Pacuvius, and whoever survives at Ancyra."

"Correct."

The centurion understood the timing of the arrivals, but wasn't quite sure of the campaign map. "So tell me again what happens once we land."

"Simple. We make for Servius and engage him in battle."

"But shouldn't we take some settlements and produce troops before we take Servius on?" The centurion had asked variations of this question before. He knew that he was about to provoke Marcellus' testiness, but wanted to make absolutely certain that he knew what was going on.

"No. If we wait then suddenly we're faced with even more enemies. Italy does not matter in this situation."

The centurion had heard variations of this answer before, but never anything like this. "How can you say that Italy doesn't matter? It's what everyone is driving for!"

"Look, just shut up and listen." There was that testiness. "Everyone is making for Italy because that's where Servius is heading. He is the key player in this equation. The Senate is going to win this war. It's a foregone conclusion. My job is to make it as bloodless as possible.

"One good battle is all we need. Engage Servius and his army, and defeat him. Once his followers learn that their Consul and leader is either captured or killed, they will surrender."

A look of understanding crossed the centurion's face. "So remove Servius and we win the war."

"Yes."

"You speak as if Servius is just some foreign general that has been giving Rome trouble, and not your nephew."

Marcellus stared out onto the open sea. "My nephew died a long time ago."

The two sat in silence for a while, watching the fleet go over the endless blue expanse that was the Mediterranean, lost in their own thoughts. The centurion knew that what his commander had said was not the full story, but said nothing.

Decius moved through the streets of Rome and revelled in it all. Panic had started to set in and some rioting had even broken out amongst the frightened populous, perfect….simply perfect.

Rumours had been spread as soon as he’d left Manius, of course, these were not just normal rumours, they were spread by his own men. He was not alone in this task, Decius never was.

Manius’s villa stretched out before him in darkness. It seemed that all around was sleeping still as Decius calmly walked upto the compound door and knocked loudly. There were muffled sounds from within as the night servant started to the door, suddenly the hatch opened and a face appeared.

Decius stepped forward, removed his cowl and smiled in a friendly manner at the man inside. He smiled back.

“Oh, master Curtius, what brings you here at this time? The lady is most afraid, she has heard much and is worried about the master.”

“Do not worry Galius, that is why I am here, I bring word of his safety to the mistress of the house.”

“Of course sir, please, enter”

The hatch swung shut and soon the doors were open. Upon entering, Decius allowed the slave to close and lock the doors behind him before turning back to him.

“is the mistress awake?”

“No, not as yet sir. If you would care to wait in the anti-chamber I shall awake her for your audience.”

Decius smiled, sickly sweet and suddenly unnerving

“That….won’t be necessary…”

The dagger slipped swiftly into the slaves throat. A gurgle and nothing more….Decius caught the falling body in his arms, blood seeped down his dark tunic, turning it even darker brown…..he had chosen this colour well…..life-blood continued to pump from Galius’s throat as Decius carefully laid him to the ground. He stared into Galius’s eyes. The question on them was plain, was always the same in these cases…..”Why?”….there was no simple answer, nor any answer that Decius could give in the moments Galius had left, that is, if he even cared to answer the question.

Decius moved swiftly inwards to the villa. He knew the layout deeply, having been an honoured guest over the last 7 years or so.

_________________________________________________________

Outside, things grew in proportion as citizens both scared and confused continue to riot. The Senate was nearly powerless to prevent this happening, what troops they had in the city were confined to barracks. Firstly, because their low number could not hope to prevent the full scale riots that were developing and secondly, as the Senate were still unsure of their loyalties.

Other than that, certain Senators used what force they had to help where they could.

One such “gang” arrived at the villa of Senator Manius Coruncanius that late afternoon, a few hours before nightfall. Well aware that night would bring nought but troubles for the city, the Senate speaker had done what he could to secure the personal property of many of the Senate.

Centurion Kaeso Decmitius knocked loudly on the big doors, impatiently he banged again and harder.

“Open up in the name of the Senate!”

Sheepishly the hatch opened and the face of Galius Quirinalis, house master, slave to the Coruncanius household.

“Your seal, the mistress will not permit entry to you and your….armed men…without presentation of the Senate seal”

Kaeso, held up the metal siegel and nearly thrust it into Galius’s face.

“There! Proof enough slave! Now, open this door, it is getting late and none of us wish to be caught out this night.”

Galius nodded, closed the hatch and soon the doors were open.

Kaeso pushed in closely followed by 5 “irregulars” armed with swords but not in armour.

Galius stuttered. “I will get the mistress for you Centurion”

“That will not be necessary, I will go with you, my men will remain here for now”

Galius swiftly scuttled off with Kaeso in tow. Kaeso gripped his Gladius hard in its scabbard. He abhorred what he’d been ordered to do, it went against his whole grain as a Republican commander of some station. Then he was faced with Urgunalla, Manius’s wife and he paled when he thought of what came next…….

____________________________________________________


Decius, moved swiftly through the chambers. He barricaded the entrance to the servants sleeping quarters with a chair. Whilst, it would have been more efficient to kill them, he knew there were perhaps 12 or more in the room and the chances of killing them all and remain undetected was nil, even for someone of his skill.

Thus, he moved onwards through the building in the night. Where he encountered a lone servant he killed them. Without hesitation and silently.

Soon his tunic was sodden with a heavy metallic tasting liquid. He moved closer to the families sleeping quarters.

A lone guard. Decius stopped dead. Had he been seen? The guard appeared out of place, he was armed Decius could see, but dressed as a pleb would….but something seemed wrong with him. The guard held himself well, and was balanced on his feet, toned and strong………..but clearly bored.

No, he had not seen Decius, but still Decius berated himself for being careless. Still, the question remained, who was this person and why was he here?

Decius moved silently through the shadow of the columns and approached the guard from behind him. Decius’s foot scuffed the floor and the man sprang up and swung round!

Suddenly Decius had no time to wonder and no time for stealth…he launched himself a the man. Seeing the glint of Decius’s dagger the man grabbed Decius’s wrist….Decius dropped the dagger and drove his free hand into the mans nose.

Blood spurted and the man was stunned but he didn’t let go of Decius. The man responded, years of combat clear in his fluid moves. A sharp knee to Decius’s groin and the guards large hand moved downwards to hit, but likewise, Decius had not been idle his some 40 years of service, biting down the pain from his testis, he pressed his body suddenly close into the guards, the punch missed and Decius thrust his head strait upwards, connecting cleanly with the guards chin.

Decius held the guard close and tight with his left arm, all the while struggling with the guards iron grip on his right.

The guard twisted and clearly wanted to slam Decius’s fragile frame against the marble floor. However, Decius was waiting for such an opportunity and welcomed the cold floor, oxygen exited his lungs but he accepted it without the panic the guard had expected, twisting and using the jarring of the impact, Decius managed to get his right hand free. He brought his strait fingers down sharply but with all the force he could manage on the exposed throat of the guard.

He gagged and rolled off Decius, Decius wasn’t finished though. Without air in his lungs, he needed to finish this immediately otherwise the bigger man would be at an advantage he could not warrant.

Following the guards roll, he grabbed the guards head with both hands, then impelled the guard to roll again….and then again… the third time Decius held fast as the guard rolled again…

….rolled and left his head stationary in Decius’s vicelike grip.

The guards neck snapped, broken by his own momentum and weight, and Decius let him go and rolled away from the body.

He gasped for breath, and tried to get much needed air. After a few seconds his head stopped spinning and he regained his composure, but this didn’t clear the feeling of uncertainty.

Why was this man here? Were there anymore? Had he been heard?

Decius paused for what seemed like an age and strained his hearing. Nothing. No alarms, and no footsteps. He wasn’t made happy by this though, all that could mean was that anyone waiting to kill him was perhaps just better than he was.

Oh, to be young again.

Decius stood up, located his fallen dagger and moved on to the sleeping quarters. He had to complete this task, he was here, he was certain he could escape, it had to be finished tonight.

However, someone had heard him. She moved out of her room and went towards the front entrance to the compound……by passing Decius without knowing it, likewise Decius was unaware of her movements.

Decius was set on another route, starting at the West. He moved into the children’s rooms.

The small cot was first, it was a little matter and silent to smother a babe. Decius moved to the cot, armed ready…..nothing……nothing! Decius’s head swivelled round in the room, scanning the shadows for his enemies but it was empty. No one waited for him in the dark, this was no trap, but there…..the babe was gone!

Panic now DID set in to Decius’s mind, he swiftly moved on to the elder children’s bed chamber……….the same! They were gone!

____________________________________________________________


Kaeso nodded and stood to attention in front of Urgunalla. She was a plain lady but held herself with every ounce of royal bearing, she had complete lordship over her household, held the money, hired the staff, maintained her husbands home and status against all who would defy that status whilst he was not in Rome.

“So, Centurion, what brings you here with such alarming lack of manners?”

She was defiantly looking down on him. Curse her! Curse her and all of these ‘nu-royalty’, suddenly the task he’d been given by the Senate speaker didn’t seem so bad to him anymore.

“My Lady Coruncanius, by order of the Senate Speaker I have been instructed to ensure the safety of the family of Manius Coruncanius and to remove the household to within the Senate’s property.”

Urgunalla’s face was utterly impassive. A mask of dignity.

“Of course, such an order is unacceptable. You will have to leave this house now Centurion…and without my family”

Galius, went to grab Kaeso by the arm but Kaeso didn’t move. Instead he allowed Galius to try and move him……..Galius stared at Kaeso but kaeso wasn’t looking at him but instead at Urgunalla.
Kaeso fixed the imperious lady with a hard, narrow, stare.

“I am….sorry Lady….but my instructions are implicit. My men and I will not be turned away empty handed.”

Kaeso pulled his Gladius out from his sheath.

________________________________________________

Urgunalla moved swiftly through the house in the dark. What was it now! Not only had she been annoyed already this day by the arrival of that brazen Centurion but now she had been awoken by his clumsy guard falling over himself!!

Then she tripped over his body…..

Decius moved through the bed chambers and found no-one. Furious and confused, he heard a noise from out in the courtyard. A sharp intake of breath caught his attention, and his ears zero’d in on its location.

He’d been discovered! Clearly the noise came from where he’d left that guards corpse.

Cursing to himself, he made for the sound.

_________________________________________________________

Urgunalla, had fallen over. That was annoying for her. What was more annoying was that she’d clearly fallen over the drunken and asleep form of that stupid guard of Kaeso’s!

She stood up, ready to launch into the sort of fuming triad of insults and belittling that even a Titan would quail from…….but she stopped…..

He wasn’t breathing? She knelt down to turn him over….suddenly she felt sick, his head was hanging wrong. He was dead and his head didn’t look “right”.

What was happening! She stood upright to see a smiling face, a face full of venom and hatred staring back at her.

_________________________________________________________

Decius, swiftly covered the open ground and saw her. Urgunalla was stooped over the body of the guard. He silently moved closer, to within a few paces of her.

He didn’t want her to know he was there just yet, no, far better that the full horror of what was happening took hold of her first. He waited, and watch with glee the look of fear and uncertainty fill her face…..that normally impassive and graceful face…..and then she turned full on to him.
__________________________________________________________

Urgunalla stood there quivering before Decius.

“So, my dear lady, you appear to have found my last ‘conquest’” He smurked at her “now then, if you were to be so kind as to tell me what happened to your children…I will make your passing far kinder than his?”

Urgunalla’s head swam…….Decius? this dead man? Her children?!?

She ran.

___________________________________________________________

Decius was shocked! surprised, shocked and more than a little disappointed. Urgunalla struck him as someone with a bit more backbone that THIS! But here she was, running from him at the moment of his triumph…

…he gave chase.

Urgunalla ran, ran for all she was worth. She knew that outside were rioters, thieves and murderers but all of them……she would prefer their company far more than that of Decius!

She could see the door ahead of her, reached out for the handle to open the door and escape……….then she fell over. Her foot slipped on something wet and she fell backwards.

Decius was just behind her, saw her reach for the door…….he slowed to a walk.

She'd slipped on the blood of Galius.

Whilst she struggled to regain her footing he calmly walked upto her and pulled her up by her hair.

Of all things, Urgunalla was suddenly struck with the thought of who would clean the floor! There was Blood! Actual blood all over her ornate mosaic floor…….who would clean up such a mess?

Decius held Urgunalla in a vice like grip and broken she hung there impassively staring at him.

“So, lady, I’ll ask again. One more time only……where are the children!?”

Urgunalla looked at him…..but she didn’t question why, she could see the hatred in his eyes and that was reason enough. She could not hope to free herself now, nor cry for aid. There was no hint of potential mercy in Decius’s eyes either. So, calmly, and cleanly….

….she spat in his face.

Decius took the projectile in his stride. Did he expect anything else from her now?? The answer was clear as she spoke to him.

“Safe, curse you, they are safe and away from you. Away from this war that is coming. And away from….”

Urgunalla was cut short as the knife crossed her windpipe.

Decius let Urgunalla’s frame fall to the floor. So, the children were gone but Urgunalla remained. Perhaps she awaited here like a loyal Roman wife, waiting for her husband to return from campaign?

The permutations ran through his head. The front door was open, and the exit was clear for now, the children had escaped him somehow and he needed to know how and where. However, he needed to send the message that he’d intended to do to Manius……ensuring his loyalty.

Then the only option fell to him.
_____________________________________________________________

Sextus Silius Silvanus ran through the streets, chaos was all about him as he headed for the home of Manius Coruncanius at the head of the small detail of men Servius, the Consul, had detailed to secure Manius’s family for safety in Palma.

They pushed people out of the way and swiftly turned the last corner to the compound…….

Flames greeted them.

The whole compound was ablaze. It was clear how, rioters were everywhere..burning, robbing, killing without control. Sextus had seen this sort of thing before but had not dreamed it would even happen in this city of cities. However, he also knew that it would not last long. Perhaps by tomorrow, or even the next day the riots would stop. People, even looters, had to rest, had to sleep, and during that time the city would return to calm. The Senate would then post troops at key points in the city and things would return to “normal”.

But before him, the home of Manius Coruncanius burnt.

“Ok, lets move in. Spread out everyone”

The troops in disguise moved forward cautiously towards the villa. “Over here!”

Swiftly Sextus ran to where Flavius stood above a body on the ground. It was Urgunalla’s body, blood still ran from her torn throat and it was clear she’d been crying just before her death.

Sextus knelt down, tears welling in his own eyes. You never get used to this, needless killing of women….children……Children!! Sextus looked up.

“Quick, Flavius, look for the children. There are three of them”

With that Flavius went to search as best he could around the building whilst Sextus cradled Urgunalla’s crumbled form.

He quickly returned

“None sir, if they are in the building then they have perished in the fire but they are not outside sir.”

Flavius’s eyes went down to Urgunalla’s body

“What’s that?” He pointed at Urgunalla’s clasped hand.

Sextus prised the soft fingers apart and removed it, holding it up to the light of the flames around them.

………it was a Senate Seal.

___________________________________________________________

Kaeso rode onwards into the evening. The three children each had to ride pillion with one of his men, he held the baby in his arms himself.
“So Sir, are we not supposed to return to the Senate compound?”

Kaeso turned to Oppius

“Well, we would do…if I thought they’d be safe there. No, Oppius, our route is clear to me. Take the family out of Italia. We’re on our way to Rhegium, then by ship to Syracuse. It’s best these whelps are kept as far out of this war as possible.”

“What’s the matter Oppius? Don’t you care to be a wet nurse!”

With the laughter he’d created Kaeso pushed his steed into a gallop and the rest followed. Joking apart though, he needed to find a nurse for this baby….and soon.

The fat old man was sweating.

“Where is he? Where is that Centurion!?!”

He paced up and down the office, wringing his hands behind his back in worry. The Senate Speaker wasn’t accustomed to such stress, had grown accustomed to nothing more worrying occurring in his life than his stylus breaking whilst taking notes in the Senate hearings, but now….NOW, his life appeared to be nothing but stress…the Senate had resolved to expel the Consul, had insisted HE bring the Consul in chains to the Senate….and then nothing but panic had set in.

He hated panic…perhaps even more than stress. It upset the defined balance of things, of the way things were “meant” to be. Now this!

He’d done his best, sent out what troops he could cobble together out to try and secure the families of both warring sides. Perhaps he could then restore a semblance of order to everything but it had not all gone to plan of course, whilst he’d managed to get several families back to his compound under guard, others had already fled but this newest problem was worse still!

“Tell me again, why has Kaeso not returned and what did you find at Manius’s villa”

The Senate Speaker gesticulated towards a soot covered and clearly weary man in plain dress, stood before him at attention.

“We arrived after nightfall. We found Manius’s villa burnt to the ground, there was evidence of blood in the street outside. Of Manius’s family there was no trace, nor any trace of Centurion Kaeso, Sir.”

Again the Senate Speaker showed his confusion and the Legate in front of him, although dressed in civilian clothing, found it all very annoying. He’d been asked the same question three times now, had nothing new to add to it….besides, he craved for a bath and this, fat, smelly man in front of him was clearly loosing his mind by the second!

“…b….but….I don’t understand it, are you saying they’re all dead??”

“Perhaps Sir, there was blood, but no bodies and I’d not be confident of someones death until I’d seen a body sir.”

The Legate sighed. Why was he still here??

The Senate Speaker blustered some more, paced again twice up and down in front of the Legate then….

“Erm…ok…..we have more important things to worry about than to send out search parties for dead bodies….you may go.”

With a visible look of relief the Legate saluted, turned on his heals and strode out of the chambers……there was a hot bath waiting for him.

….he didn’t even hear the cries of frustration, confusion and anger still echoing out of the Speakers chambers as he left.

Decius smiled to himself as he casually rode out of Rome. He’d been dealt a pretty poor hand today but had still managed to turn things around, in fact, fate hate conspired with him to make matters almost as perfect as he’d initially planned it.

After dragging Urgunalla’s body into the street, he’d placed his own Senate Seal within her dead fingers, it was a simple thing to then set the villa complex ablaze and then he retired to the shadows…and waited.

It was not long before a troop of men had arrived and whilst they were searching the burning property and the surrounding area it was nearly too easy to snatch one of the men as he’d become separated from the group. What he’d told him was most enlightening indeed.

They were on a mission from Servius to safeguard Manius’s family and therefore his loyalty.

Decius laughed out loud when he heard this!

Here he was, wanting to kill them……for the exact SAME REASON!!

The irony wasn’t lost on Decius, and it was almost a shame to kill the man…but no matter, that is how fate deals with things.

Servius, the Consul. Decius had to admit that he had a vile admiration for the young man, so dedicated, so determined and stubborn. A man who knew, without any doubt whatsoever that HE was right and all others who differed in view point were utterly wrong. It was such a shame that he had such useless morals.

Decius worried about Manius though. Manius was not Servius, and he considered if his son would be up to the task he’d set in motion. He was also a little worried about the details the man had blurted to him about the armies that faced Manius in Asia-Minor…..but…..those things Decius had no control over.

He merely placed the markers in the best position possible, rolled the die and waited for fate to decide if he lived or died.

He was used to that, besides, despite his misgivings about Manius’s resolve over the long term he knew that the message he’d planned to send to Manius would get to him and that he would face Numerious’s legions with all the fury he could muster now.

Still….if he failed……was Servius such a poor choice for a second option? Decius was sure he could make himself “indispensable” to the Consul…or would that be Emperor…..

Decius smiled again to himself…whilst behind him Rome, perhaps the very Republic…..

………burned.

The Eternal City

Jack bounded into the Professor’s study, like a puppy bringing the old man’s shoe. He thrust out the photocopies:

”Look what Dr Gawrilov faxed to me from the Smithsonian! The pre-battle communications of Numerius and Manius at Ancrya! Can you believe it?!”

The old professor slowly looked up at the lanky, eager young man who seemed to be bouncing over him. A long moment of silence ensued. An icy stare of condescension slowly seemed to drain all the enthusiasm out of his student.

”Bah! Hollow rhetoric and personal tittle-tattle, no doubt! All that matters are the physical realities on the ground. The material situation, not the shallow ideals those idiots thought they were espousing. I did not ask you to dig into their hearts. I wanted you to study the sources, interrogate the individual accounts and make scientific inferences about the course of the engagement. Give me a battle report, for Christ’s sake!”

Jack felt like the Professor had cuffed him round the ear. He dropped the facsimiles on the floor of the study and dejectedly left the room, shoulders drooping.

As the door closed, the old Professor licked his lips and quickly grabbed up the faxes. His eyes greedily devoured their contents, like a young school boy who had broken into his parents’ sweets drawer.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Braden

To Numerius,

I shall call you friend still at this sorry time. Your letter, had it arrived but a few days earlier would have received a different response from me, but now…..now I have received word from Rome of the fate of my family….now, I find my heart is steel against those who would commit such an act.

I entered this “war” with the hope that honour would return to the Republic and to those in it who conspired against justice, however, now I fear that all honour and justice as left the Republic you now serve.

My scouts report that your numbers have swelled and for that I am glad. I would not have you face my army with the pitiful numbers you had but a few weeks ago, and I would have taken no part in your destruction in such a one-sided fight.

So, you tell me I have lost my way. No, friend, I have lost my family….those most precious to me……you, my friend, serve a corrupt government, where murder has been proved to be an accepted legal vehicle.

You will excuse me, I am in mourning.

I ask you to stand aside and let my forces pass onto Greece. I will accept your word that you will not strike my rear and that you will defend our Eastern border in my stead.

I offer you, no battle here. If our armies fight, neither of us will win. Even if you destroy my army, plunge your sword into my own heart and all that you wish comes to pass….your army will be broken. The Seleucids will roll over your few remaining men and we will have lost all we have fought for, you and I, for these past 5 years or more.

If we fight, neither of us is likely to see Rome again.

Manius.

---

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by econ21

Dear Manius,

I greave for your loss. You can be assured that I had no knowledge or involvement in such a dastardly act. If I survive this day, I will do all in my power to root out and punish those responsible.

Truly, a man's grief for the woman he loves is the most powerful thing. It is all consuming and terrifying. But, Manius, the fate of the Republic overshadows even that. It rises above our private passions and hurts, engulfing us all and sweeping us along a path we do not choose.

You say you wish to march into Greece and from there, no doubt, to Rome. And so do I. But you would go there to return that viper Servius to the bosom of our beloved country. And I would go there to decapitate the threat to our Constitution and our Republic. Destiny ordains that only one of us will make that journey to Rome and it will be along a road soaked in blood.

You shall not pass.

Numerius

---

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Braden

Numerius,

As you will have it friend. Rest easy that I have no joy in this task but I am compelled to seek out the murderers of my family, if they lay in Rome then there I will go, if they lay in Iberia or Carthage…I will go there…..in Hades….I will go there.

I shall salute you on the field of battle for your bravery none the less.

Manius

---

New developments were usually a welcome thing, they offered new oppertunities, new chances, new insight. But this was not to be such a development. Servius had just received word of the events at Manius's villa, and..

THUD! THUD! GR! THerd! CRACK! And the marble bust broke against the wall with that final wailing of hatred and pain. "#@*! YOU! #@*! YOU!" Servius was red faced, sweating bullets in his rage, and he had dropped to his hands and knees. "WHY!?" An angry lashing outwards cast the shattered pieces of Mars's bust to scatter across the room, as dust would be blown about by the wind. "WHY DO YOU BETRAY ME THIS WAY!?" He lifted a fragment from the floor and staggered to his feet, staring at the left side of Mars's face. "WHY DO YOU BETRAY ME!?" The piece quickly found itself being hurled back to the floor in the midst of his rage. "I HAVE GIVEN YOU EVERYTHING!"

Breathing deeply he ran his hands through his hair and stared up at the ceiling. "I have given you victory, after victory, after victory...and now your lust for blood has become so great that not only do you turn Roman upon Roman, but in the most treacherous of your own vile deeds you have bid men to slay the families of those who would see this conflict out for your wretched entertainment. These people are not soldiers, they are not fit for the horrors of war, and yet you have paniced them, spread your chaos into the hearts of the innocent! You have done the unforgivable!" Servius, beginning to calm, drew his gladius from its sheathe and placed its blade towards the sky. "In the name of Jupiter Optimus Maximus, I swear it Mars, on this day I swear, when my time has come to pass, and I am to cross from this world into the realm of Hades, I will drag you to Tartarus with MY OWN BARE HANDS!"

Shaking, he dropped the gladius to the floor and exited his prayer room, heading immediately to the war room and grabbing the first messenger he saw by the shoulders. "Send word to Manius, I have heard what happened, but I am not convinced that all is lost. Tell him we will give his wife the proper burial, and she will be given all due honor she deserves, and that we will find his sons no matter what has happened to them. Tell him that no amount of words can express the guilt I feel in my heart for not having gotten their sooner. Let him know that I am dispatching my men to find the treacherous filth responsible for this vile act, and if it is with my dieing breathe I will bring him the men responsible for this, that by his hand their judgement shall be slow and painful, and every ounce of pain they have caused him shall be his to inflict upon them a hundred fold. Go..deliver this message, and dispatch my men!"

Servius then turned one last time to look towards the sky. "Mars...you are no god, you are a demon. No matter what you do, I will win this war. For the good of the Republic, for the good of mankind. Men should not bow down to gods like you...YOU, should bow down to us."

Servius shook his head, and that look was breathing out from within him again. "Mars... I will make you bow to me."

Luca Mamillus




“What?!” Callimachus stepped back, alarmed at my furious expression.


“Servius will be able to land within the season, Luca. There is nothing we can do about it.” I had heard him the first time. I just needed to digest it. I had thought it would take him at least two more seasons to reach Italy. Apparently some of the admirals had been torn from the rightful path also.




“We must make haste for Rome so.” I said after a few seconds' contemplation. Callimachus came closer. “Think about it.” he said. “I know you want to be the first man in Rome, but with your force, Servius will trap you like a mosquito and will still have enough force to rampage through Italy while keeping you under siege.”


I kept silent. He was right. But without Rome, what were we fighting for? The Republic cannot be governed from Carthage or Massilia. It must be Rome or nothing.


“Besides, even if you somehow manage to kill Servius, do you think this will be the end of this? At the beginning everyone thought it would be the Consul and his veterans only that would need to be defeated, but as he gathered supporters, this was becoming more and more complex. Even with the consul dead, the rest of his followers would not hand themselves over. They would need to be fought.”


He was right again. But would he understand? “What do you suggest?” I couldn't recognise my own voice.


“I suggest you take the north while you can, so you get the chance of fighting Servius within the year. He will waste soldiers on the walls of Rome while we build up a force.”


“Leave, Callimachus. I need to think.” I said. The greek looked at me again for what seemed like an eternity and then left the tent. I sat on my own. My eyes went from the ray of light passing through the entrance and falling on the table full of maps and rationing reports, to the small altar in the corner, with the statues of Mars and Ceres – a man needs a sword and a full pot – and I thought about the gamble. Servius' men were the best of Rome, and the gauls I had recruited along the way couldn't even hold a proper formation. I could not beat him head on. How could I beat him?


I could not. Callimachus was right. If I am dead, even holding Rome, Servius will get it anyway, over the dead bodies of a few hundred gauls and my own, that is the only difference.


I reached over for the bottle of Thracian wine beside the table. Three long sips.


I could delay him. I scrambled to the table. Map of italy. There were several chokepoints. I wrote down a plan. Both for Servius as for those arriving from the North. Another few sips of the sweet thracian. A few letters for the commanders further south. Another visit to the bottle.


Finally I felt too drunk to write. I sealed the documents and let myself fall on my bed. The bottle was empty. “Sentry!” I called. The soldier stuck his head into the tent. “Send for my centurions.”


It was Callimachus who entered a few minutes later to tell me that the centurions were waiting outside. I swayed my way to the entrance. I could barely stand. I looked at them all, trying to focus.


I moved my lips. “We make for Bononia.” I managed. “Pack your men.” I managed to sway back into the tent before I tripped and fell. Callimachus helped me up.


“A roman must be drunk to make a rational decision.”

At a village South East of Rome, some distance between Rome and Capua a group of armed men rode in.

The villagers, mostly farmers of no import scurried for their small homes as the men passed.

However, the men didn’t pause in the little village until they reached the last home. This home was more a villa than the rest and housed the head man.

Then again, Kaeso, Centurion of the Senate, knew this well. If the villagers had taken time to look harder, they would have noticed that these five men we accompanied by several children.

Dismounting carefully, for his arms were full, he strode with purpose to the entrance porch and knocked at the door. The shutter opened and two eyes stared out…..immediately recognition formed and the eyes widened.

“Master!” came the exclamation from behind the door and swiftly the door was opened.

“Marcus, is my father at home?”

Marcus stood and stared at the package, the moving package, that Kaeso held close to his chest. The pause was too much for Kaeso.

“Marcus! Is my father home!?”

“sorry sir, no, he went to Capua this week past. We don’t expect him back for a few more days…….he was trying to sort out some shipments.”

Kaeso sighed

“I suppose it is just as well, what about mater and my sister?”

“Your mother is in the library but you sister married last month sir? You’ve been away so long…”

“I still read! Could my own family not even take the time to write me to inform me of this matter? What clutz did she finally entice into her bed then?”

“Beg your pardon young sir but she was wed to Tiberius Antius before he set off for his training in Ancona.”

“Tiberius! The lucky beggar, I bet he thought all his festivals had come at once that day, the ugly son of Poseidon.”

Kaeso began to laugh but the package he was holding started to cry. He opened it up to reveal a baby of about one year of age and he comforted her.

Marcus started at the scene

“May I ask young sir…”

Kaeso cut him off

“..No! it is best that you do not ask nor that you get to know Marcus. Believe me this is for your health I say this not from any pride of my own. Now, you were to direct me to my mother?”

Marcus bowed slightly and bade Kaeso follow him.

Kaeso’s ignoble mother, Sabina Doudecima Vecchia, sat on a low recliner as she stared at the parchments she held. Greek mythology……bored as she was, even this seemed a poor choice of reading material.

Still, she thought, she was very lucky indeed to be even able to read Latin let alone the Greek she now tried to absorb. Though high-borne she was betrothed below her own status when she was 11, the Prefect of the Senate Estates South of Rome was kind enough, wealthy enough and he’d even waited until she felt “ready” before consummating their arrangement. However, there was the problem, it was an arrangement and nothing else.

Aulus was nice enough but she didn’t love him truly, nor in fact, had she ever loved anyone truly. Never met a man in her little world since she was 11 that could impress her, she had been to fancy parties and rubbed shoulders with the Elite of society……but not a single one of them appeared to be in anyway attractive to her.

Fat and Bald!

She laughed to herself at the thought of it. She still worried though if something was ‘wrong’ with her? She had female friends, wives of other men in her circle that she knew had taken lovers, some were nobles, others common men or men of station…there were even some who had taken slaves as lovers!

The thought of such debasement caused her to wince. Still, once the feeling had gone, there was still that nagging doubt that the fact she, amongst all those women she knew, hadn’t taken a lover beyond the perfunctory relationship she had with her husband Aulus.

Marcus’s arrival broke her out of this stupor.

“Young master Kaeso is here to see you my lady.” Marcus bowed and withdrew to reveal Kaeso, dusty, dirty…..clearly exhausted……and carrying a baby!

Sabina sat bolt upright! Clearly Kaeso registered his mother’s shock but didn’t register this immediately. It had been nearly two years since he’d seen his mother last and she didn’t seem to have changed much, in honesty, there wasn’t that much of an age difference between them as Kaeso had been birthed when Sabina was only 13. The birth was difficult but Sabina was strong and things had gone well, Livia, Kaeso’s sibling, had been born 4 years later but Sabina had failed to carry full term since then.

So many years barren? How would that effect a normal woman? It didn’t seem to have effected his mother, now in her late 30’s she seemed as full of vigour and beauty as she had appeared to Kaeso when he was younger.

Sabina stood up and smiled. Composure regained and a regal air restored around her.

She WAS beautiful! Kaeso saw it clearly now. Strangely, his mother WAS beautiful. He never considered it before now, but there she was, red hair cascading down her shoulders, a light dress clinging neatly to her firm and athletic body. He was shocked by this discovery, and even more shocked that she was with his father still!

Most likely she had a series of young, viral lovers dotted about the area that she called upon when she was left….as she often was…..alone in the estate for long periods such as this.

“So my son returns with a great gift for me?” sarcasm was thick in the joking question and Kaeso was swiftly brought back to the reality he was facing.

“No, mother….we’ll, I suppose not.”

Sabina moved forward and lightly kissed her son on the cheek in welcome before closely regarding the child in Kaeso’s arms.

“Well, she doesn’t look much like you. Are you sure you’re the father?”

“No mother…actually, I’m sure, I’m not the father” there was humour in his voice but Sabina appeared confused now. The tables were turned, she had been taking control of this issue but now…..now she was lost.

“Sorry mother, let me introduce the youngest daughter of Manius Coruncanius, Tribune of the 2nd Consular Legion, conqueror of Asia-Minor and betrayer of the Senate.”

Kaeso held the baby out to his mother. Sabina nearly bowed to the child……what was her stupid son on about!

“What jest is this boy!” her face suddenly turning from a passive visage into a raging torrent.

Better….this was the mother Kaeso remembered.

“This is no jest mother. I hold before you who I said, outside with my men sit Manius’s other two children.”

“Gods Teeth boy!! Get them in HERE! I can’t even begin to tell you how many dangers you are posing to them and us by leaving them outside for all to see!!”

As fast as possible, Kaeso’s men were brought in, their charges left in the library with Kaeso and Sabina, whilst Kaeso’s men were given food and drink in the anti-room.

Suddenly Sabina’s boring day had turned to confusion. She was surrounded by young children….she’d not thought she’d have that again…not only that but they were fully nobles. Full blood Coruncanii children.

However, Sabina’s shock didn’t last long and she immediately knew what she needed to do first….

“Bring me the Popillia, she has not long since given birth.” The baby needed sustenance fast, and for all Sabina’s rising maternal instincts she was sure she could not provide that critical thing that the youngest child wanted.

The Speaker's Quarters, Rome


The Senate Speaker lounged in his chair, his great stomach distended, like a giant frog exhausted from a day’s exertions of catching flies with its tongue. Normally, this was the Speaker's favourite time of the day. In the evening, when he could relax, catch up on his reading, before he had to go to bed and creep past the open door of Mrs Senate Speaker's bedroom. He gazed over the rim of his goblet at the Greek man servant tidying his papers.

“Dark days, for the Republic, my boy.” the Speaker intoned gravely.

Iannis, his servant, nodded solemnly in studied agreement, as if the Speaker has uttered the most penetrating assessment of their situation, rather than a statement of utter banality.

The Speaker turned away from his servant, satisfied. He liked Iannis - a reliable chap, knew when to speak and when to remain silent. Not like some of those other uppity clerks, like Upius Maximus. And that chap who had so riled Cnaeus but whose name the Speaker could not quite recall. Still those mouthy types had come to no good in the end, little more than faded red splodges on the marble floor of the Senate building.

“Servius’s fleet has been spotted off the coast.” the Senate said with a shiver of fear and excitement, like a little boy scareing himself with bedtime ghost stories. What would Servius do to him, the Speaker wondered? He had feared for his life when he had last met Servius. Numerius had volunteered the Speaker to go with a warrant for the arrest of the Consul. The journey to Iberia had been an agonising one. Not so much for the many cobbles and rocks on the roads, but because of the vivid thoughts the Speaker had of the many cruel and unusual punishments the Consul might inflict on him. Amazingly, he had been allowed to return unmolested. Perhaps the Consul viewed the Speaker as travelling under a flag of truce. Or perhaps he did not want to start a war or alienate more supporters by mishandling him. Or maybe, just maybe, Servius was not as black a character as the Speaker had come to imagine. Now, however, Rome was within Servius’s grasp and there was no flag of truce to protect the Speaker. The Consul need have no restraint - war was upon them and the sides were fixed. Now, the Speaker would find out how dark the Consul’s heart truly was.

“Luca and Decius are running round the countryside like headless chickens, poor chaps. Never seen battle, either one of them, and now they are the last line of defence of the Republic!” The Speaker stared mournfully into his goblet. How had it come to this? Where were Tiberius Coruncanius and Lucius Aemilius? The two gnarled titans of the Republic? Both were still crashing around the undergrowth in Thrace, having been lured out there by the Consul. They were magnificent men, but they were racing with time - not just with Servius’s armies marching on Rome, but also with fate, their greys hairs and failing bodies signalling the approach of the messenger from the Underworld.

”I say, Iannis, have you heard the news from Quintus Libo? Apparently the chap has chosen to stay in the middle of Gaul, battling it out with the Iberians. Even started laying siege to Alesia. Remarkable, quite remarkable. I would that more of our generals were like him. The wolves are at the door, but apart from Quintus, we are too preoccupied with yelling and throwing furniture at each other to pay them any heed.”

Iannis nodded at the Speaker. He knew his place. His job demanded a mastery of expressive body language but the Speaker seldom welcomed hearing the Greek’s actual voice. Iannis supposed the old man’s verbosity was a by-product of his job - having to listen every day to pompous Senators wax lyrical, the Speaker must be consumed with frustration and the pent-up desire to rant.

“The Seleucids are already moving back into Asia Minor. No doubt the Thracians will rally and renew their attacks. There are rumours that even the Carthaginians on Sardinia and Melite are beginning to move. Dark days, my boy, dark days.”[/i]

Iannis muttered agreement. Although aged over forty, he had long since been resigned to being called “boy” by the Speaker.

“And what of Numerius and Manius at Ancrya? Ah, the tragedy of it, the tragedy! Two such noble men, locked in a death struggle. One enraged by the death of his beloved; the other struggling to save the Republic.” The Speaker looked contemplatively at his red wine, before sighing and resignedly plunking it down his throat.

”And if Numerius should fall? Who should lead the Republic? Tiberius and Lucius are too old. Appius too untested. Cnaeus too much like Servius himself. There is Marcellus, of course, but would the people accept one so close to the Consul in blood?” the Senate speaker pondered this conundrum for some time.

Iannis recognised his cue.

”Master” he said slowly, as if the idea were only just occurring to him, ”Perhaps YOU could lead the Republic if Numerius falls?”

The Senate Speaker looked inquisitively at his man servant. The two men’s eyes met, each searching the others for meaning. Then the Senate Speaker’s eyes creased, his mouth curled and the two men roared with laughter!

The Speaker laughed heartily: the thought of his own portly frame with a cuirass strapped on, atop of some poor horse, addressing an army was too funny to contemplate. Yes, the Speaker liked Iannis - a sound chap, could always be relied upon to cheer him up even in his darkest moments. With that thought, the Speaker rose to retire to bed.

The pleasant blurred feeling from the wine had slowly assuaged his concerns with the state of the Republic and dulled any fears he might have concerning the days to come...

OOC: Originally posted by Lucjan - moved to keep the story chronological.

*****************************************************

Servius walked aside his horse, a young boy riding atop it instead. They were in a small village west of Arretium. Behind Servius trailed a man in heavy, dull robes, both scribbling and stumbling as he followed the two down a bumpy trail to the edge of a stream at the village's edge. "Yes, I understand that, but what about the-"

"The what?" Servius cut him off, stopping at the streams edge and helping the boy off the horse. "The so called senatorial forces? Pawns of Numerious, the lot of them, not an ounce of self-reliance and independant thought amongst them, not even from Marcellus, and for him I had hope." Servius scoffed, and then felt guilty. He still had hope for Marcellus, hope that Marcellus was coming to Rome for reasons other than to fight for the sake of old mens' greed.

The man stopped, sighed, and sat down upon a rock, resting the scroll in his lap. "Servius you do realise that no man, in the never ending history of time, will ever be able to write a biography on you and truly understand what you had been thinking don't you?" Yes, the man was a servant, a historian to be exact, and such was the informality between the two that they had come to refer to each other by first name.

The consul turned back to his friend and stared.

"Because nobody but you is ever correct." It was a sarcastic stab at Servius's attitude towards governance and politics, and, sometimes, everything else under the sun.

Servius smiled. "I think it suits me well. Why should any man but I know what I am thinking? Wouldn't make me much of an individual now would it? Weren't you yourself just ranting last night around the fire about how it's important that the voice of every man be heard, and thats why you've stuck with me and the new republican ideal rather than running off with those elitist fools. What kind of a historian can't remember his own ramblings Petrus?"

Petrus smirked, he hadn't realised how open he'd let himself to Servius's counter attack.

The boy with them was tossing rocks into the stream, and turned to face the two with talk of the new republicans. "Consul."

"What's that, boy?"

"Why is Rome fighting itself?"

The boy was the village governor's son, and had been told to lead the consul around the town while his father helped gather a few extra supplies the town didn't need, of course to exchange for gold with Servius's legion.
Servius sighed, and picked up a rock to skip into the stream. "Because for all the logical rules and laws that man can come up with, there is always one cardinal law that for some reason, no matter what culture, race, or religion a man is, all men are innately bound to follow without defiance." Servius looked back to Petrus, who was still scribbling on his scroll. "When war speaks, man listens."

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

Sextus's men had found no sign of the children back at Manius's villa, even after the blaze had extinguished itself and what was left searched from top to bottom. He had already made the necessary arrangements Servius ordered in regards to Urgunalla's body being respectfully sent off to Hades once the rioting had quieted down, but now he had much more urgent issues at hand. The children still possibly lived, and even if not, Servius had tasked him and his men with finding those responsible for this atrocity. Their first stop would be at the home of a certain senate speaker, the only logical place a senate seal could have come from. The speaker had become a tool of Numerious, who Sextus was convinced ordered the murder and possible kidnapping in order to put Manius at a disadvantage in battle. The most logical place to find more evidence was by interrogating the speaker.

It took a while, their long wait outside the senate house was testing on both their nerves and their vigilance. Normally the senators traveled by day, but even with the dangers associated in traveling at night, many senators, particularly the portly speaker, had taken to waiting until dark to be accompanied home by a small retinue of centurions. It was far safer than being caught out in the open during day time now, what with the mobs fighting almost daily in the streets, those supporting the senate, those still loyal to Servius, each casting stones and blaspheming the name of their neighbor in some false belief that it would somehow be of benefit to their side. But eventually it payed off.

The fat old speaker was making his way down the senate steps with two pair of centurions when they spotted him. They had planned this out all very carefully, and rehearsed it a dozen times in their heads, but would it pan out the way they expected it to? Their were six of them, and four centurions. He didn't see an issue, after all, they had all served with Servius in Carthage, and knew their way around a melee, the problem was they had no armor, no shields, and would have to rely on Sextus's own cunning to pull the speaker away from the guards. As they followed the speakers group out of the senate guards' earshot, Sextus started casting orders about. Cunning would do it today Sextus thought, after all, why risk an early death?

It was a grotesque noise, the burning of a man to death. Something of a cross between a constant howl of pain and the gurgle of a man choking on his own blood. But it was the easiest way given their situation. As the portly speaker and his group were on their way, two of Sextus's men snuck up from behind and sloshed the lot of them with jugs of oil, it was a simple matter after that of the whole group coming together around the speaker's with torches and knives. The smell was unmistakeable, they knew exactly what had just happened. Sextus believed that he'd never seen a group of centurions look so scared in their lives, or the senate speaker cower amongst them like a child and soil himself.

It took little coaxing for the centurions to be left on their way in exchange for the speaker. If there was one thing man feared more than anything else it was drowning or burning alive. Sextus had to settle for a threat of the latter.

Making their way, torches carefully extinguished, back to their own safehouse in Rome, they sat the senate speaker down upon their arrival and bound his arms and legs to a chair with rope.

"We know you ordered men to Manius Coruncanius's villa the night it burned to the ground." Sextus took a small candle from the table and held it in front of his face, casting an earie glow on his visage as he smiled a sadistic grin. "Now, talk."

The Senate Speaker just sat there and stared blankly at Sextus. He couldn’t believe this last turn of events….it was just WRONG!! He was the speaker of the Senate, he’d thought the events of the last 24 hours had been bad enough but now!......this was incomprehensible.

The fact that he didn’t fully understand what Sextus was talking about didn’t help either.

Suddenly, ice cold water was poured over his head and the shock to his heart was instant! He gasped for breath and tried to shake the water out of his eyes and ears.

Sextus faced him again “Do we have to make this hard? We just want to know who ordered the destruction of Manius’s villa….I’m certain it wasn’t you.”

Sextus’s voice was soothing. He didn’t blame him but he still didn’t comprehend what he was talking about, with all the will he had he composed himself enough to try and talk.

“I…I…I….just don’t know what you mean?!? Are you telling me Manius’s villa is destroyed?”

Sextus was interested now, it actually sounded like he was telling the truth….amazing! When this man took his position in the Senate, the theatre certainly lost a great talent.

Sextus slapped him full on the face. It was just a warning.

“We went there to safeguard the Tribunes family but…”

He was broken off by the blurting speaker

“Wha!.....but you weren’t the one sent??” the speaker was getting even MORE confused and scared now.

Sextus paused. Then drove his fist onto the speakers right cheekbone, almost immediately a great welt rose up and his eye started to close shut.

Sextus motioned to behind the speaker and two men roughly grabbed him and untied him from the chair only to retie his hands behind his back. Forcing him to walk across the room the men forced his swelling face against the cold wall of the room whilst kicking his feet behind him.

There he stood, propped at an impossible angle, his head grinding into the wall as his legs strained to hold him upright all the while forcing his face harder against the wall. A voice whispered into his ear.

“You only have to tell us all of it. I can make these last few hours of your life the most horrendous that you have ever experienced old man, just tell me everything from the beginning.”

“bu…but…I don’t know what your talking about.”

There was sudden pain as a heavy object struck his side, he could feel ribs breaking. Panic started to really set in now.

“No! don’t I really don’t know what…”

He was cut short by the forceful blow into his mouth he fell over. For a brief moment the speaker welcomed the on-rushing floor but no such rest bite would come, he was caught by two of the men and man-handled upright once more, just as a sharp blow fell into his gut.

Whilst he was winded, his own blood seeping into his mouth from his split lips, he was untied again but then forced down into the chair and held there. Two pairs of hands forced him to remain seated.

Another two men grabbed his arms at the wrists and then Sextus approached again. He had something in his hands and it glowed.

____________________________

Let’s see how well this man acts now!

Sextus held the glowing nail in the forcipes and the hammer in his other as he approached the sitting figure.

“I’ll ask you again. Why did you kill Manius’s family.”

The speaker was flabbergasted! What was this man saying?? Manius’s family…dead??

“NO! NO!...I didn’t, you have to believe me I…..” The scream was like a pig being set on fire with burning tar.

Sextus drove the red-hot nail strait through the speakers right hand and down into the chair arm, pinning the speaker physically to the chair. He turned to get another nail, already heating in the firepit, but he couldn’t resist a swift turn and a backhand punch to the speakers swollen face.

The force of the impact tore the speakers right hand free as the ligaments between his finger bones couldn’t hold against his own weight being lifted off the chair with the punch, blood flowed, pain seared up his arm……he cried, he loosened his bowels and nearly passed out.

Sextus saw this and grabbed him by the jaw, bring himself close to the fat mans level and shaking him out of oblivion.

“We’ll ask that again should we?”

The speaker whimpered.
“No…I beg you, please….ok, I’ll confess to anything but if you want the truth……I sent a Senate Centurion and a unit of men to….to…..safeguard Manius’s family, they left this afternoon….before nightfall..….I beg you, believe me! He didn’t return….that’s all I know…please no more…please!”

The speaker broke utterly. Tears flowed like a river and mingled with the blood on his face.

“So” said Sextus “…explain this to me then?”

He thrust something under the speakers nose, through bleary eyes…well, the one eye he could see out of now, he vaguely recognised a Senate Seal.

“It’s…..a Senate Seal, I………..don’t understand” the speaker shook his head

“THIS was found in the dead hands of Urgunalla, Manius’s wife.”

“Wha….I…bu…..No….that’s not Kaeso’s seal”

Now it was Sextus’s turn to be confused “Explain fast fat one, I have another iron in the flames as we speak..”

“Errr….NO! pleasepleaseplease! It isn’t Kaeso’s seal, it’s a Senators seal…..and an old one at that. It…it’s out of date! Please…..please………….plea…”

The speaker broke down in tears again, blood flowed freely from his lips the wound on his hand and the pain from his broken ribs was intolerable. At least the throbbing in his head had stopped now his eye had fully closed with the swelling there….though, he wasn’t sure if this was a good or bad thing. He closed his eyes and nearly welcomed death.

Sextus turned to Flavius.

“What do you think?”

"Think we've hit a crossroads sir." Flavius responded, not wanting to be responsible for the actual decision making they faced.

Sextus nodded, understanding what Flavius had meant, and pondered their situation for a moment. Their were two clear options here, and the possibility of either one of them leading to the same ending were strong, but Sextus had never really been fond of a fifty fifty chance. The odds of failure were too high. "I'll send word to Servius that we've split and we're following two seperate leads. Flavius, I want you to get the senate speaker out of Rome tomorrow morning, keep him here until then, and keep him quiet. Who here has family in Rome?"

One of the men piped in. "I do." He was a tall, slender man, with a bird-like nose and piercing green eyes. But even for his unusual stature, he clearly had the muscular build of a centurion.

"Good, this will be an oppertunity for you as well." Sextus nodded in his direction. "Thoma, gather your family in the morning, and bring them here."
He looked then to Flavius and, retrieving something from his pocket, grabbed Flavius's hand and stuffed a small brown pouch into his palm. "Make that worthless wretch eat this when you're ready to go, it'll make him sleep for at least a couple hours, long enough for you to get a good distance out of Rome. Bind him up in the crate on the cart outside, travel with Thoma's family to avoid suspicion, this will let him get them out of the chaos here in Rome as well, and head towards Ariminum, Appius Egnatus is there, his aid will be useful. When you get there, have this thing spill the beans on every current senator that's old enough to bear an outdated seal like this, even if they're not active in the proceedings. An act like this deserves vengeance, and no stone left unturned. Take one more man too. Myself and the others will head back to Manius's villa and the surrounding area, it's a Servian supportive neighborhood, there's bound to be good Romans willing to spill the beans on the Senate centurions that passed through, and let us know what way they went. This Kaeso fellow, if he still has Manius's family, can't be lost now."

Sextus looked then one last time to the senate speaker. "As for tonight, everybody get some rest. But before you do, tend to his injuries. We can't afford to have him die on us. After that make sure he's bound tight, and put something over his mouth to keep him quiet."

Decius continued South East. He heard rumours that Servius was going to land near Rome soon, he didn’t know where exactly so he’d best keep his options open for now.

Actually…….did he know where he was going?

He stopped his horse and looked around the countryside considering his problem. Manius’s wife was dead, Manius himself was potentially already locked in battle with Senate forces, however, Manius’s children survived…..somewhere.

He hadn’t the time or the temper to have tried to get more out of Urgualla before he killed her so where now? He cursed under his breath but…….

….three children, travelling openly with people who are not their parents. It was a very long shot, but perhaps…..perhaps….someone had seen them, the barest lead he could follow. Even if he didn’t kill the children he had to be sure they weren’t somewhere where they could get word to Manius. Such a thing would surely destroy all that Decius had put in place.

He realised that he was potentially already going in completely the wrong direction but as he was already on the Southern road he may as well ask if someone had noticed anything. He turned his horse around to head back to Rome, there would definitely be answers there if he failed to pick up the trail on the main road.
____________________________________________________________

Soon he came back through a village, some distance between Rome and Capua, the villagers, mostly farmers of no import stood and some even waved as the old man passed them. He acknowledged their greetings in a good manner.

As he entered the village proper, he saw the land owners villa on his left. Much bigger and grander than the small homes of the labourers and farmers he’d passed earlier.

He wracked his brain to try and remember the name of the household here. He knew most families of standing in and around Rome but for the love of……he just couldn’t remember. He realised that he’d not slept for nearly two days. It had to be effecting him now and he needed to be alert now more than ever.

He rode past the house of Decmitius and towards a likely looking farmstead, as he approached the man of the house and a younger man, perhaps his son, moved forward to challenge him.

Decius stopped his horse and dismounted, then putting both his open hands up to show they were empty he addressed them both.

“Greetings citizens, sorry for the alarm. I am just a Senate messenger looking for food and shelter for the afternoon. Do you know where I can find such hospitality?”

The two men looked between themselves before the older one answered Decius.

“Well good sir, whilst we hold you and your station in good stead, we are but poor farmers and have little in the way of hospitality to offer one such as you.”

Decius knew it would almost immediately go this way, so he quickly produced his purse of coins. Making them openly shake in front of the men he continued to speak.

“I’m sure I can provide you with sufficient funds to purchase wine and bread for me good citizens.”

The two men nearly fell over themselves to please Decius.
__________________________________________________________

Decius fell into a fitful slumber. He’d given clear instructions to the farmer to wake him in 4 hours. He hated to sleep for long and particularly now, time was of the essence.

He also made it clear that he expected to eat when he was woken and had told them how much he was willing to part with for these two minor services.

The farmer and his son, were very well pleased with the amount, though less well pleased that Decius decided to pay them half now, and half when he left that evening. He also, “carelessly” allowed them to see the various daggers and the sword he owned whilst he took the saddle from his horse.

He would not be disturbed whilst he slept.

Ancrya, Summer 250

Numerius swayed unsteadily on his horse, facing towards the rear of the Senate battle line. Opposite him, some way off, but still clearly visible were another group of Praetoria – the escort of Manius Coruncanius – together with a larger body of Consular cavalry. Numerius felt the pain stab in his stomach and flinched. So this is how it ends? Bent double in agony, under a fierce eastern sun.

Marcus brought Numerius a drink of water.

“Hard pounding, this” the young Captain of the Praetoria drawled.

Numerius nodded. He had to admire Marcus’s insouciance. Few of his men could fail to have been dismayed by Manius’ rout of the two Senate cavalry divisions. This was not good, not good at all.

Behind him, Numerius could hear the clatter and calls of combat as the battle divisions of the two rival armies hacked and hewed at each other. He cast an anxious eye to the far right flank of the line. There, the Consular Reserve Division had enveloped the Senate principes detached from the reserve to hold the extreme right. Numerius had seen battle long enough to know that principes were men who would hold, even though ridiculously outnumbered; hold until they died.

By the gods, what an outcome! Manius had managed a double envelopment: his cavalry had smashed past the Senate left; his Reserve Division had flanked the Senate Right and were rolling it up. Numerius shot a glance at the exhausted Appius, who only a short time a go had torn up the grass racing for the safety of the triarii, riding as if the furies themselves were after him. Pah, furies! Only fools who lived sheltered lives were afraid of furies. The Consular cavalry who had pursued Appius were worse than any furies.

Numerius wanted to ride over and consult with Appius, but the stabbing pain in his stomach stopped him. No, let the man catch his breath. Appius was already deep in conversation with his staff. Numerius had delegated the control of the battle to Appius; he must abide by that decision. He could not distract the man when there was not a moment to lose. Numerius shot a nervous glance back towards his nemesis. He swore he could make out, in the distance, the figure of Manius himself, still and silent, a contrast to the busy and hurried form of Appius.

An inner calm descended on Numerius; his own destiny was not his to direct. It never had been. He was merely an instrument of the gods. He had put down his meteoric rise to destiny. Likewise, he had been fatalistic about his subsequent fall from grace in the Senate, and about the dip in his career after Manius had landed in the east. With Consul's illegal war on Iberia, Numerius had thought he had been summoned back into the favour of the gods. He had believed he had been summoned on a divine mission – a quest to save the Republic – for surely, the gods would favour such a noble cause? But there stood Manius, a man wronged and seeking retribution. A wise benevolent god would favour Numerius’s great cause – a god such as Numerius had heard was worshipped by the people of Judea. But the Roman gods, ahhh, they were not so lofty and impersonal. The Roman gods thrived on intrigue and on passion; they delighted in alternately favouring and tormenting their subjects. For such gods as these, Manius’s personal drama surely held greater appeal. Yes, the gods were fickle and as the sand blew past Numerius’s sallow cheek, he wondered if for him, the winds had changed for good.

The Eternal City

Jack gazed at the annotated map of Italy at the start of winter, 250 AD. It showed the Civil War heating up and about to reach boiling point. Jack turned to his computer screen. The Professor had wanted a short description of what the map showed for some magnum opus the old man was working on. Why couldn’t the man do his own leg work, Jack grumbled? Oh well, sooner I get this out of the way, the sooner I can get out. It’s Friday night and no self-respecting young man in the city would let himself be confined indoors on a Friday night.

https://img215.imageshack.us/img215/...nter250ka0.jpg

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Jack

The focus of interest had shifted away from the East, where the battle of Ancrya had decided the fate of the region at least until Rome had a unambiguous ruler. Numerius had extended the hand of friendship to Manius and an agreement had been reached. The survivors of the Consular army, based around Legio II, were paroled from the war - they would fight only against Rome’s external enemies, the Seleucids and the Ptolemies, under the command of Appius Barbatus. Other local commanders still loyal to the Consul - Manius the Mad and Titus Vatinus, had also agreed to help defend the east. But Numerius still took the long way home, crossing the straits at Byzantion, in order to avoid potential interference and delay. In his tow, Numerius brought Manius Coruncanius, no longer a combatant in the war but still a man of violence, driven by a desire to avenge those who had so egregiously wronged his family.

In Thrace, Lucius Aemilius, Galeris Vatinus and Secundus Salvidendus struggled to muster local forces loyal to the Senate. But like Numerius, there were perhaps too far from Italy to have a decisive influence on the outcome of the war. Likewise, Flavius Pacuvius stood, stranded at Carthage with 1700 men. And Qintus Libo laid siege to Alesia, enduring a fierce relief effort by the Iberians that cost him nearly one third of his army. As of Winter 250 BC, all these generals at the periphery were of secondary importance. What mattered was Rome and the armies that marched on her.

Servius had landed west of Arretium, a city Luca Mamillus had abandoned in haste to looters and rioters. Luca had planned to make a preemptive move against his son-in-law, Appius Egnatius, a Consular general in Arminium. But in the end, Luca had turned south to link up with Decius Laevinus. Together, the two had gathered what loyal Roman and Italian soldiers they could to create a force almost worthy of the designation Field Army III that Publius Laevinus had so mockingly used before. This army was deployed on the road just north of Rome, supported by a mass of Gauls; but after their poor showing at Ancrya, no Roman commander was likely to put them in the front line.

Two fleets from Africa were racing for Italy. Admiral Appius was bringing Marcellus Aemilius and would make landfall in the Spring. Admiral Cassisus was transporting Oppius Aemilius and would probably arrive a season later. Oppius’s trip was disturbed by its passage around Caralis - they could see the town in flames, having been seized by the Carthaginians. Evidently, Carthage was exploiting the divisions created by the Roman Civil War to reclaim some of its territories. Both Caralis and Melite had been seized and put to the sword in retribution for their prolonged and stubborn failure to resist the superior Carthaginian forces. A Consular sized Carthaginian army was marching on Aleria, under the command of a general Muttines of Cordoba.

To the north of Italy, Quintus Naevius was approaching Bononia. He seemed certain to win the race for the river Po with both Tiberius Corucanius and Cnaeus Caprarius, who were making unexpectedly slow progress in their advance on Rome.

The fate of Rome was in the balance. Servius and Luca were within striking distance of each other, but both could well prefer to await reinforcement. It was likely, however, that the end of Winter would bring a climactic struggle that would make the bloodbath at Ancrya look like a minor skirmish.

---

Right, thought Jack, job done. Time to get out of this dump and hit the streets.

Even at this distance, the smoke stung Oppius's eyes. They had first spied the giant dark pall in the sky the previous morning. The fleets navigator had told Oppius they were a day or two's sailing from Sardinia, and the obvious conclusion filled Oppius with trepidation.

That night, he and his Admiral, Cassius, had boarded their fleets' lightest, fastest ship and made for the island, leaving the rest of the fleet away to the west, out of sight. Through the night the acrid smell of smoke had grown stronger and stronger, and the darkness had merely served to heighten their fearful thoughts of what might await them come the dawn.

Now, as the sun gained height in the early morning sky they could clearly see the source of the smoke. Caralis, capital of the Roman island of Sardinia had been burnt to the ground. Smoke was still rising from the city, but it seemed the worst ravages of the fire had done their business leaving the blackened, smouldering rump of what was once a thriving city.

"Ye gods, what has happened here?" asked Cassius aloud, voicing the question all those on deck were thinking.

Once more Oppius cursed being stuck at sea for months. What had happened here? He had no idea.

"Perhaps the city declared for the Senate, and this is how Servius chose to punish them. He is not a man to be wronged, as we all know. Or maybe Servius has been beaten already, maybe he fled here for sanctuary and this is how a vengeful senate extracts justice?"

He coughed, even at this distance the smoke was still thick enough to tickle ones throat. Oppius reached for the wineskin and tried to clear the irritation.

"Or maybe it was Carthage"

"Carthage?" snorted a surprise Cassius "but we left them on their knees"

"Aye, we did. But they had large armies stranded on Melite and Sardinia. For some reason they were reluctant to take the cities, content to live off the land instead. Maybe they got bored of the rural life?"

"We should send a landing party ashore to find out what has really happened"

Oppius paused.

"No, 2 of the 3 possible options are most unfavourable to us. I would hate to find a victorious, vengeful senate suddenly aware of our position. Its too dangerous. And it will cost us time. The men have been at sea for months, they long to get ashore. For good. No, we continue on the planned course."

Cassius gave the orders for their ship to return to the rest of the fleet whilst Oppius thought aloud to himself. "There is one more option of course. It could all be some terrible tragedy whereby the city has burnt to the ground by accident. But I don't believe in accidents. Not in this day and age."

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:

---

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.