The Wandering Commander: Asinius Commodus - II
Sorry for the long delay but I've been busy the past few months. Exams, family visits for New Year and Christmas and all that. Now I'm back and can continue Part II that I've promised.
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Chapter 11 – The Origins of an Empire
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From a struggling faction that had to face barbarian hordes daily, from an unknown faction that had to obey every command of the Senate, from a poor faction that had to struggle to fill its own treasury, the Juli had rose from the ashes like a phoenix.
Tiberius Corpulentus, now a legend in the Roman world, laid the wheels and cogs of conquering and the foundations of an empire. Irony was it that Tiberius did not come from the direct line of the founding father of the Juli faction. He was an outsider, married to a daughter in an obscured branch of the family. When he was married, he was given an unimportant post in an unimportant army, for the Juli was saturated with sons from the Corpulentus family.
But Tiberius, he was ambitious, as all conquerors are, and he was determined to achieve his ambitions.
And so, he went for all the battles, particularly the ones against the Gauls. For he believed that there, at the north of those vast untamed lands, was where his fortune and fame lies.
His first battle was a heroic victory, one that will be retold for ages, he and his rag-tag army defeated a vast army of well-trained Gauls. 9000 Gauls was killed with many more wounded and Tiberius only lost 300 of his men. But whether the figures were exaggerated, one would never know. Still, it was an important battle and it established a place for Tiberius to prepare himself for the political world.
Yes, as much as Tiberius loved the military, his ambitions in the political world outshone his military ambitions. One summer, after subduing the vanquished Gauls, he led his now vast and glorified army to the countryside of Rome. The Senate panicked and thought that Tiberius was about to lay siege to Rome, but what happened next came as a shock.
When the vast gates slowly swung opened, vast numbers of prisoners shuffled through the city streets. The long line of Gauls astonished the Senators and the citizens alike. Yes, they had heard about Tiberius’s exploits in Gaul, but they never expected to see such huge numbers of prisoners. Before they could recover from the shock and awe what they saw next made some nearly had a heart attack on the spot.
Piles and piles of gold and booty lay upon wagon after wagon. Food and delicacies from the region of Gaul lay upon special wagons and these were all paraded before the amazed eyes of the Romans. But that was not all. For soon, Tiberius entered, surrounded with his magnificent cavalry, clad in golden armour, it shone brightly in the sun, making him look like a god from the heavens. His huge stallion covered in gold dust and its mane was braid with such painstaking pattern that it seemed as if the stallion was born with them.
That day was a triumph for Tiberius; it was a victory and a conquest for him, for finally, he, Tiberius Corpulentus, was able to hold his head up high. Spending many months in Rome, the eloquent Roman outtalked and debated in the Senate, something that had never happened in over a century, since the first leader of the Juli faction. Tiberius spent many nights studying the structure of the Republic; he knew that one day the Republic would fall, there were simply too much ambitious men from the following Roman factions.
Tiberius made friends with many Senators; he gathered many allies and slowly began ousting the Scipii and the Brutii factions and even some of the Senate family members itself from the Senate offices. With his immense power and influence, he installed many of his family members in all of the most influential Senate offices and left the lowest two offices to both the Scipii and the Brutii.
The next move was a bold one. One day, Tiberius strolled into a meeting and interrupting it, he declared himself a Consul. Naturally, there was a commotion, many Brutii and Scipii family members declared it an outrageous proclaim. But it was useless for the Senate family members looked upon Tiberius with a favoured eye. The citizens of Rome held Tiberius in high esteem for he was the one who vanquished the whole of Gaul, he was the one who increased the slave trade volume, he was the one who brought back luxuries that was never seen before, Tiberius was, in short, a half-deity.
Being Consul, Tiberius left Rome. The Senate and the citizens were upset, they wanted him to stay on and lead the Romans to further glory. Tiberius refused; he said that the Britons and Germans were about to overrun his northern border. If no one stopped them, the barbarians could sack Rome itself. Satisfied with this answer, the Senate and the citizens of Rome bade Tiberius farewell as he left the city of several hills.
But that was a lie.
The Juli faction was in tottering ruins. News had spread throughout the faction of Tiberius’s glory and many of the family members were in a joyous mood. Added to the fact that many of their family members had gain prestigious offices in the Senate, they seem to end to the fortunes that had befallen onto their own faction. The Juli faction leader was in extremely celebrative mood, to the point where he ordered all of his over-confident family members to create a vast army.
This result in a vast number of poorly trained soldiers and they were scattered around the regions in a disordered manner. Tiberius was furious. He did not made the Julis rich just for this. Storming into the capital, Arretium, Tiberius marched up to the faction leader and declared that he was to be made a faction heir. At first, both the faction leader and his son, Spirius, laughed at the absurd notion. But when Tiberius passed a message from the Senate to the faction leader, they were both shocked, for no one knew that Tiberius had been made Consul.
Reluctantly, the leader consented and made Tiberius a faction heir. Spirius was shocked and raging at everyone, he descended into madness. It was only years later when Tiberius passed away that he was made a faction leader (no one knew why, but the reason was only known to Asinius and Tertius the Diplomat) but by then, he became so mad that Asinius had to handle everything behind the scene.
A year later, the faction leader died, making Tiberius the faction leader of the rising Juli faction. It was at the same time that baby Asinius was born, born to a man who had achieve it all, Faction Leader and the powerful Consul of Rome.
What Tiberius had done was unspeakable, for he had achieved the highest goals desired by all Romans at a young age of 37. But still, Tiberius was unsatisfied. The Brutii faction had the most well organized and well-trained army. Tiberius was determined to overcome them and soon began the long, slow years of reform that swept through the regions of the Juli faction.
By the time Asinius came of age, the Juli was the most powerful faction, the richest faction and the largest faction among the Roman world. But then, the barbarian hordes had awakened again.
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Chapter 12 – A Secret Meeting
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It was dark, dank and infested with rats and fleas. Sewage from nearby buildings flowed lazily in it, giving out a pungent and nauseous smell that came from rotten and decomposing things that floated in it. The walls of the tunnel were dripping in slime and moss and small insects crawled around the walls and ceilings. At both sides of the sewage ran two concrete pavements that were just enough for a group of people to walk in single file.
A man cautiously walked out from a door at the side of the tunnel. Although there was no one around in this infernal place, the man looked carefully to both his sides before stepping out of the door into the tunnel. Without a concern, he slowly lifted his sandaled feet from the safety of the door into the slimy floor. Slowly, he moved as his sandals made contact with the floor. With great trepidation and caution, he stood at the side of the underground sewer.
Three men came out after him, each hissing out threats and sounds of disapproval. However, the first man paid no attention to them, more important things was on his mind. Moving slightly ahead to give he and the others more room, the first man stood still in the darkness, waiting for the others to regain their composure.
“By the gods, Otha, what is the meaning of this?” one of the men walked up angrily to Otha.
“Shush, this is a very secret message, the only safe place to tell you is here, even the dark alleys above are too dangerous,” replied Otha.
“Still, could you not choose a better – ” With a small gasp, the man clutch his throat as Otha plunged a dagger into it. Withdrawing his dagger, he caught the dead man in mid-air, before deposing the body into the sluggish, oily sewage.
“What is going on?” asked the other two men in unison. They had heard a splash and were getting more and more nervous by the moment.
“Nothing,” called out Otha, “could be just a rat falling into the river,”
Walking towards the two men, Otha grasped his dagger. The stifling air was suffocating him and making it harder for him to concentrate. Light from far ends of the sewage filtered into the tunnel, allowing Otha to see the two men as clearly as he could. Fortunately for him, the two men were standing in a dark spot, blinded and nervous and certainly helpless. One the men, an old looking man with a bald patch on his head and bulging belly was wringing his toga in distraught. The other man, a young one with the characteristic smooth olive colour was trying to act calm, but from his frantic hand movements, Otha knew the lad was petrified.
“Where are you Otha!” the old man said, twisting his toga more and more.
“Here, behind you,” whispered Otha.
Raising his dagger, Otha caught the old man in the chest who groaned like a thundering elephant. For an instance, Otha’s heart leaped from his chest. The sound echoed and vibrated through the tunnel, tearing apart the silence that was there and nearly bursting Otha’s eardrums. Some bats flew around, shrieking their annoyance and adding to the racket. Finally, with a great heave, Otha shoved the dying man into the river whose body soon sank like a sack of boulders.
“Otha, what is going on?” the young man cried, this time fearful and trying to grope his way back to the door.
“Calm down! Your uncle just had a stomach ache,” said Otha, who immediately cursed himself for making up such a horrible excuse. Luckily, the young man fell for it and standing rooted to his spot, the young man turned and peered into Otha’s direction.
“Uncle, are you all right?” asked the young man.
In an instance, Otha plunged the dagger into the young man’s heart. For a while, Otha and the young man struggled, one fighting to push the dagger deeper in while the other fighting for his life that was slowly sapping away. Otha struggled, surprised at the youth’s strength. With all his strength and determination, Otha forced the dagger a few inches into the youth’s chest. At last, with a fearful whisper, the young man’s body slackened. Quickly, Otha withdrew the dagger and with a last look at the youth, he kicked the body into the sewage who joined his two other compatriots in the same fate.
Otha heaved a heave a sigh of relief. His work was finished. All he needed now was to collect his reward. With a careless toss, his dagger flew into the sewage where it joined a hundred and one items at the bottom of the oily river. With a last look around Otha whistled a tune steadily. Opening the door, he entered the other side. Closing it behind him, he fastened the door before continuing his way up a flight of steps.
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Appius Sulla stood on his vast balcony, staring out at the bustling road beneath him. As he stood there watching the movements and the activities of the people below him, he saw a plain looking person walking up the steps of his home. With a quick look to the left and right, the person disappeared into Sulla’s home as fast as he had appeared before the steps. Sulla smiled; he had been waiting for this day, this very day.
With a causal gesture, Sulla arranged his toga and nodded at a few people below before walking into his private chamber. In there, three men were lounging on the couches, picking at the fruits and desserts that were laid on the centre table. One man had almost the same features as Sulla, the brown eyes, sharp nose, with a fine lips resting on his strong chin. His hands were smooth and white, an evidence betraying that this was a man who abhorred military life and prefer the academic and political world.
Another one laid in the centre, a fat, podgy man with unsightly rolls of fats bulging out at inappropriate places. He was the only eating the foods with gusto while the other two toyed with it. But his small, beady eyes had an intelligent glint to it and the thin sharp lips exposed the man to the world that he was a man not to be fooled with, must less to take advantage on.
The last one sat on right. Compared to all the other men in the room, he appeared to be a god, like Apollo. His fine features were a stark contrast to the hard features of the other men. His straight nose, his golden eyes, his golden hair that rested gently on his brows and his full, soft lips was enough to make all the girls swoon in delight as he walked to the Forum daily. His whole body was proportional, well muscled and his skin was as smooth as a newborn baby. A first glance at this man would never think that he was capable of fighting in a battle or a fight itself.
“Sir, Otha is here,” whispered Sulla’s personal aide as he crept into the chamber.
“Good, where is he,” asked Sulla.
“He is waiting outside,”
Nodding, Sulla dismissed his personal aide. His three compatriots eyed him closely, waiting for the signal that they so badly wanted.
“Gentlemen, please excuse me for a moment,” said Sulla.
With a smooth movement, Sulla walked out of his chamber. Directly in front of him, Otha stood there with a calm but alert posture, his hands resting at the sides of his hips. As Otha stared at Sulla with a passive face, Sulla smiled and readjusted his toga around him.
“Is the deal done?” asked Sulla.
“Yes, the three boats are now floating down the river,” came the passive reply.
“Were there any problems?”
“No, everything went smoothly, you have nothing to worry about,”
“Good, good,” said Sulla calmly. Delving into the folds of his neat toga, Sulla took out a small bag and handed it to Otha.
“Here is your payment,”
“Thank you,”
“I look forward to make more business with you then,” replied Sulla.
“I’m sure you will,” said Otha. With that, the calm man tied the sack at his waist. With a slight bow to Sulla, he peacefully ambled down the marble stairs.
“How was it?” asked one of the men anxiously as Sulla entered the chamber.
“The contract was successfully completed,” replied Sulla.
Smiles broke out and the fat man laughed, his rolls of fats and the couch shaking violently. Raising his hand, the portly man raised his hand and slammed it onto the marble table, crushing the pear in his hand at the same time.
“I know you are extremely happy, Herius Scipio, but there is no need to destroy my table,” replied Sulla.
Laughing, Scipio ignored Sulla and taking a pear from the golden platter he finished it in two bites.
“Are you sure it is done?” asked the handsome lad.
“Yes, Amulius Brutus, I can assure you that it is done,” replied Sulla.
A small smile of satisfaction slowly crawled across Brutus’s face. Rolling a small grape between his forefinger and thumb, Brutus stared at his other three companions, the small feeling of elation washed over him, settling on his stomach like a sweet combination of fruits and honey.
“But, I wonder whether what we did is right,” replied the last man, his sharp words piercing through the hearts of the other men.
“Lentulus Aealianus,” Sulla weighted each word carefully, “you are my relative and yet you doubt me?”
“No, I do not, but think about it, you killed Quintus Julius, will the Juli not make a big commotion out of this? Furthermore, you killed both his father and uncle, both whom are famous; surely the Juli will attack Rome itself? Or even worse, the plebeians and some of the patricians might revolt against us,”
“To the Underworld with the people, at least the Juli would never take my faction for granted again,” replied Scipio gruffly.
Aealianus ignored Scipio. “Still, if the Juli finds out about what with have done, will we not be in trouble?”
“Aealianus, Aealianus, do you think that I have not thought about everything? The Juli will never find out, they are buried deep under the sewage of Rome. Furthermore, Rome has many spies and assassins. How many does the Juli have, only a few. Yes, they have the best military, but most of them are in the north, two years march from here. Enough time for us to train and build up our ranks of soldiers,” replied Sulla.
“But – ” said Aealianus.
“No more, Aealianus,” replied Sulla; “I have another plan, now, just put everything at rest,”
The three compatriots stared at Sulla with deep thoughts on their minds. Each had their concerns. But staring at Sulla who was staring back at them candidly, their worries seemed small and fruitless. Beside, none of them had to bear the responsibility of the death of three high-ranking Julis. None of them, only Sulla, he was the one who would bear the great and profound responsibility if the plot were ever found out.
“Come, this is a time to celebrate, what is done cannot be undone,” the ever optimistic Brutus replied, breaking the silence.
With a laugh, Sulla took a place beside Aealianus and joined the merry crowd. All was happily rejoicing, relieved that the Juli had lost their stronghold in Rome, they would did not have to fear the young faction anymore, with the Juli gone from the influential political world, it would be easy to beat them militarily anytime. Beside, who would find out the plan? Furthermore, Sulla had prepared three dead bodies and he was planning to show the bodies to the public, ready to cook up a story about how the drunken Julis got so intoxicated that they fell into the River Tiber. No one would say anything, as the three Julis were known for their love of alcohol.
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