Civil War Stories, The Will of the Senate

[econ21]

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.

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.

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

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

[Lucjan]

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."

[SwordsMaster]

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.”

[Braden]

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.

[econ21]

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...

[econ21]

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."

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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."

[Braden]

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?”

[Lucjan]

"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."

[Braden]

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.

[econ21]

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.