tuareg109
Banned
Alright then, thanks.
My only complaint is Sulla's head isn't on jugurthas spear yet
Nor will it be! I am scandalized that you would insinuate such a thing!
FOR WANT OF THE HAMMER
- Thread starter tuareg109
- Start date
Alright then, thanks.
Nor will it be! I am scandalized that you would insinuate such a thing!
tuareg109
Banned
Don't you fret, unwashed barbarian that you are; though Sulla is a favorite of mine, I suppose I could make a few Roman heads roll for your sake. I have just the idea...coming up in February of 646 AVC!
Hmm. I'm getting some really good ideas about what's later to come in the immediate future of 645 AUC...
1. Jugurtha manages to out-maneuver Sulla's out-maneuverings, crushes the Legions in battle, lets the remainder pass under his yoke (again), and conquer Utica and the rest of Roman Africa, a complete victory for Numidia.
2. The Cimbri, who were renowned for seriously threatening Rome's existence for the first time since Hannibal, will have absolutely no Marian Reforms/competent generals left to stop them. They annihilate the Romans battle after battle with their strength, ferocity and brutality and emerge victorious ITTL (unlike at the Battles of Vercellae and Aquae Sextae). I wonder if the butterflies will make the Cimbri convince the subjugated Hispanic tribes to revolt against Rome whilst in Hispania. If the Cimbri win, Hispania will become independent of Rome once more.
3. If the Cimbri and Teutons split their forces and go on separate paths towards Gallia Narbonesis and Italia proper like IOTL, the Cimbri should be able to eradicate the Roman Legions without the Marian Reforms, they would be able to sack Narbo and Massalia (maybe spare those Greeks instead), and very possibly, even Rome herself. Will the continuous Roman defeats and losses strike an opportunity in Greece, Macedonia and Roman Asia to sucessfully revolt against Rome as well? I certainly hope so!
1. Jugurtha manages to out-maneuver Sulla's out-maneuverings, crushes the Legions in battle, lets the remainder pass under his yoke (again), and conquer Utica and the rest of Roman Africa, a complete victory for Numidia.
2. The Cimbri, who were renowned for seriously threatening Rome's existence for the first time since Hannibal, will have absolutely no Marian Reforms/competent generals left to stop them. They annihilate the Romans battle after battle with their strength, ferocity and brutality and emerge victorious ITTL (unlike at the Battles of Vercellae and Aquae Sextae). I wonder if the butterflies will make the Cimbri convince the subjugated Hispanic tribes to revolt against Rome whilst in Hispania. If the Cimbri win, Hispania will become independent of Rome once more.
3. If the Cimbri and Teutons split their forces and go on separate paths towards Gallia Narbonesis and Italia proper like IOTL, the Cimbri should be able to eradicate the Roman Legions without the Marian Reforms, they would be able to sack Narbo and Massalia (maybe spare those Greeks instead), and very possibly, even Rome herself. Will the continuous Roman defeats and losses strike an opportunity in Greece, Macedonia and Roman Asia to sucessfully revolt against Rome as well? I certainly hope so!
Well as a staunch Marian....allow me a second while I rally my men to march on Rome and put your head on a spike myself.
tuareg109
Banned
Gah! You readers are still missing some minor spelling mistakes!
I want to know about every little mistake, because that's the way I am, please.
Thank you all for reading this TL, and for your support.
No balls! You'd never work up the liver, you coward!
I want to know about every little mistake, because that's the way I am, please.
Thank you all for reading this TL, and for your support.
Well as a staunch Marian....allow me a second while I rally my men to march on Rome and put your head on a spike myself.
No balls! You'd never work up the liver, you coward!
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Well I do have to admit Sulla's constitution was much needed...*thinks deeply and looks at sky then turns back to men* "I guess we won't be marching on Rome today..."
I'll start looking out for minor spelling errors. I from here on out will be entering grammar nazi mode despite not having perfect grammar. Like a true grammar nazi.
tuareg109
Banned
FOR WANT OF THE HAMMER
NUMIDIA PART 4, 645 AVC
Mountains of the Tell Atlas range, center of King Jugurtha's power
NUMIDIA PART 4, 645 AVC
Mountains of the Tell Atlas range, center of King Jugurtha's power
"What do you mean, the Romans are rampaging through the southern Province?" Jugurtha growled testily, banging his large fists on the table in front of him.
The scout licked his lips. King Jugurtha had ordered that all scouts with news of Roman matters--Roman armies, Roman dispositions, Roman traders--report to him, in person.
"If any person born on the other side of the Middle Sea so much as farts, I want to know about it!" he had shouted at the time.
The scout, lips licked, was still thirsty, but had to placate King Jugurtha first. He had had weeks of hard riding through deserts and high valleys, just through the bad luck of seeing the Romans at a distance, moving through Kasserine; and yet, he blamed the Romans who he had seen much more than King Jugurtha who had demanded the journey--King Jugurtha was as charismatic and caring a leader as a man could have hoped for.
The scout said, "They were abouts Kasserine, Sir. I watched as the generals dismounted and went into town. I didn't see what happened behind the buildings, but the soldiers soon began running around the town." Here he stopped.
Jugurtha blinked. "Go on."
The scout sighed through his nose and continued. "They simply advanced through the town--there's only about five thousand people there, regular people, and against fifteen thousand Roman soldiers. They didn't have a chance."
A woman of Kasserine
Jugurtha closed his eyes and lowered his head solemnly and heard Bomilcar hiss between his teeth. The magistrate of Kasserine, Nabdalsa, was a good friend of his; Jugurtha also intimately knew several women in that city. A terrible loss. "Anything else?" he asked blandly.
"Yes, Sir. Instead of moving north again or east after taking the town's meager treasures, the Romans continued south."
Jugurtha's head went up and Bomilcar said, "There's only one place they can be going: Capsa."
The Scout
Jugurtha nodded and dismissed the scout warmly, with orders to immediately take a bath and get some rest, and to set out for the African border the next day. Then he motioned for Bomilcar, his mother's son by a Gaetuli man, to come around the desk and sit across from him again.
Bomilcar chuckled with amusement, since he had already been moving around Jugurtha, and took up his place in the client's chair. King Jugurtha, having spent much of his youth in the service of Rome's armies and among Romans, had adopted many of their trappings; one was the idea of ordered fortifications thrown up every night by a moving army, another was the manipular system and the Roman style of warfare--with a few adjustments to allow benefits from the tribal cavalry, and the now-evident one was the bibliotheca and the client's chair.
"What to do, brother, what to do?" Jugurtha asked Bomilcar quite rhetorically, and out of habit; still, it didn't hurt to ask. Bomilcar usually came up with bright ideas.
"Well," began Bomilcar after several seconds of thought, "we now know that the Romans know something they didn't know before."
Jugurtha's brows creased and his pale eyes riveted on Bomilcar's. "And what's that?"
Bomilcar was taken aback a bit--he had never gotten used to it, after all these years--by the intensity of those pale blue Greek-Punic eyes inherited from Jugurtha's father in that dark sun-blackened face inherited from their Berber mother. Bomilcar himself had the common brown eyes, so he could never intimidate and fascinate the tribesmen like Jugurtha could. Jugurtha had also inherited the famed Berber height, so he also towered over the smaller people--a mix of Phoenicians, Moors, a bit of Berber, and even some Celt--living north of the mountains and could hold his own as a physically fit and normal man among the tribespeople.
After this second of fascination, Bomilcar went back to his original thoughts. "They know that they've been losing control all over the fringes of their Africa Province. They know that their appointed or elected native magistrates have been going back to you."
"They don't trust us as much," Jugurtha drew from this.
"No," Bomilcar frowned. "And then there's the Proconsul Quintus Caecilius; our spies have all said that he refuses to get non-Romans close to him, and his house has been closed to us for little more than a year."
Jugurtha's eyebrows--much the same color as his skin--went up. "He demeans his soldiers by making them clean house?"
Bomilcar chuckled again--he did not laugh often. "The funny thing is, it seems like he does it himself. Strolls down Utica's main street with conviction on his face and latrine bucket in hand, and dumps the contents of his bowels into the sewer like any hygienic common Roman."
Jugurtha grunted and shook his head. "Not the way a commander should behave at all." They were silent for a minute, contemplating, when Jugurtha said, "And about Capsa..."
"Yes," Bomilcar nodded. "I was just thinking about Capsa. There's no way they'd know--unless one in their command thought about it. But that's so--"
He was cut off by Jugurtha. "Those Roman idiots! They would never think of it, they'd deem us too stupid. I got little out of the Romans at Numantia, but the most of it was this: They will never think us capable of anything. Because through luck they managed to conquer half the world, they seem to think everybody else stupid. The only exceptions I've known were Scipio Aemilianus and Publius Rutilius Rufus." That made him stop.
Bomilcar, as always, knew what Jugurtha had caught on to. "This Rufus fellow?"
Jugurtha nodded. "He'd be about the right age.... I've known nothing of him since Numantia, but it's possible that he's a Legate for Quintus Caecilius--oh, and him I knew well! Without divine help he'd never beat us."
"A shame," said Bomilcar with a grimace, "that our spies failed us. Among other things, we could know who their generals are."
"My men in Rome are slipping, or else I'd know. I think they're lying to me," he growled. "Is it dormant patriotism, or are they thinking I'll lose and reveal their involvement?" He was too skeptical to believe the former possibility.
"A shame, too," said Bomilcar, eyes downcast, "about Kasserine."
King Jugurtha, never one to dwell too long on disaster, said, "Don't get mad, brother; get even! We'll give these Romans a whipping and drive them all the way into their sea! Then they'll see that they're not the best in the world!"
Sulla in military trappings, as he was in 661 AVC
Lucius Cornelius Sulla was moving up fast, and quite fast enough to suit even him. A man usually had to have been Praetor before being invited to serve as some Promagistrate's Legate, but emergency command decisions could be made to suit the situation at hand, and Publius Rutilius had made the decision. When Marcus Aburius, descendant of a New Man who had been Praetor in 577 AVC, fell dead in the skirmish at Kasserine, Sulla had been bumped from fourth in rank to third, and so found himself Legate of the late Aburius's legion.
It was quite a jump, for though Sulla was the Proconsul's Quaestor, and the commanding Legate's good friend, he had only ever commanded units within a legion; even though he was everywhere in a skirmish, and seemed to know where every problem would pop up before it occurred, and generally made sure that Publius Rutilius could watch the other two legions and only half of his own, it was simply not the same as being a Legate.
Sulla had taken to it with much gusto; and with even more enthusiasm than before he fraternized with the troops and spent his time exercising with them and playing sports and games with them in his spare time, while still managing a paternal dominance and aloofness. He lost a footrace, and a wrestling match, and the spear-throwing contest, and shrugged it all off, commending the winners and celebrating the camaraderie; by now, only a few days later, he knew two thousand faces by name. This way he earned the men's admiration and respect, and hoped to receive more when the next battle came his way.
Having much to learn, he pestered Publius Rutilius for command tips and techniques so much that the usually placid old dog snapped, "I'm busy dealing with fifteen-thousand-and-one problems, go ask Aulus Manlius!"
The aforementioned Aulus Manlius
So Sulla had darted over to Aulus Manlius's tent and demanded an interview.
The duty officer, surprised, had responded, "Well, he's in right now, Lucius Cornelius. You don't have to demand anything." Shaking his head, the duty officer retreated into Aulus Manlius's tent and came back a few seconds later. "He'll see you, of course," he said, resuming his seat.
"Well, Lucius Cornelius," said Aulus Manlius in an artificially refined, aristocratic accent after Sulla had sat down in the client's chair, "I was wondering when you'd come around to see me. After all, I have much advice for a person in your position."
Through his haze of excitement, Sulla didn't hear the patronizing nature of Aulus Manlius's words. Instead, he brushed past the introductions and said, "Being new to any kind of military life, I'd like any tips you might have."
"Hmmm, yes, well, I'd say you must treat your men well, of course; but--and this is important--never let them abuse your kindness. You must never allow them vulgarity, for that would spoil them; they'd think the worse of you for it, for they're all propertied men, you know. Refined taste and all that, you know. Are you taking this down?"
That last line penetrated Sulla's wall of excitement. In this one moment, the only moment in all his life, he hated himself; he had let this jumped-up pleb patronize him and try to give advice. For who was this Aulus Manlius? He claimed to be a patrician Manlius, and indeed his grandfather had been Praetor, but who's to say his grandfather didn't perform a huge favor for some legitimate patrician Manlius--all cognominated since the very dawn of the Republic--and thereby been treated discretely as patrician, and become so in men's minds through the flukes of normally vigilant men's memories.
That point--the fact that he wasn't even a patrician, not being a cognominated Manlius--and the fact that he was terrible at what he did--a distinction that Publius Rutilius could never be credited with, drove Sulla quickly over the edge. He stood and reared like a viper; being a natural actor, Sulla knew his talents, and used his pale light-grey colorless eyes to great effect. They bulged out of his head as he said in a menacing tone and a normal volume, "You--you--you insect. Patronizing me! I loathe you and those like you, you vicious jumped-up Pleb! Your grandfather was born in a whorehouse, you son of a Greek whore! He started life as a basket-weaver, and sucked enough patrician Manlius cock to become treated like one! Fuck you and fuck all your pretensions, I'm leaving."
Which left Aulus Manlius looking quite bewildered, and with two bright red spots burning in his cheeks, for he too sometimes had doubts about his ancestry, though he would never ever admit it.
That being the only moment in his life that Sulla hated himself for being too weak, it was also the very last moment of his life in which he lost control. Though the "Aulus Manlius Event", as it came to be known in his memory, had few future repercussions, it didn't elude Sulla that loss of control in another situation, with men more superior by far than Aulus Manlius, could be damaging. From that moment on he was an actor from the time he opened his eyes in the morning to the time his brain dropped the act at night, and it suited his personality and ambitions like a glove.
The duty officer having heard everything, the story was of course known all over camp an hour later. The Military Tribunes--all young men of senatorial or equestrian rank--wept with glee at the sight of tight-lipped Aulus Manlius, for they all had doubts about his legitimacy as a patrician; the patricians among them were jealous of their rank and its prestige, while the plebeians resented that one of them should "jump the line". The soldier weren't affected much by the incident; except for a few laughs and new admiration for Sulla in all three legions, life among them went on as usual.
Publius Rutilius, acutely aware of his rank and its responsibilities, but loyal to his friend and not wishing to exaggerate a problem seemingly forgotten, elected painfully to not mention it publicly or with both men in the same room, and privately told his two Legates individually to do the same. Aulus Manlius's mouth became as wrinkled as a cat's asshole, but Sulla gave a dazzling smile and a wink.
So the incident passed without much notice. Quintus Caecilius Senior--who didn't much like Aulus Manlius either, and had doubts about his origins, and only took him on as a favor to the Manlii Torquati--received a wheedling letter from Manlius, which he promptly threw into the trash after reading. Aulus Manlius suffered a few days of snickers behind his back, and resented Sulla from that day forth. Sulla, not averse at all to murder to attain superiority, began to plan it, for Aulus Manlius was no friend.
Full moon at sunset in southern Africa Province--in 2013; time travel, spoo-ooo-ooo-ky!
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tuareg109
Banned
*After his army stoned two elected Military Tribunes with orders from the Senate to be removed from Sulla's command, and for Sulla to return to Rome*
"Well, if the Senate wants me back, I guess I'm going back. I don't want to go alone, though! Who's with me!"
*Cheers and applause*
Upon reaching Rome: "Well, uh...you guys can go home now. No, I didn't want to march! I just didn't want to go alone, the woods are scary at night!"
Yes! Grammar Nazi mode is only mode.
tuareg109
Banned
You'll see
Malta Shah said:
I'll take your word for it.Since I don't recall making any explicit mention of camels, I'll just change the caption.
tuareg109
Banned
FOR WANT OF THE HAMMER
CLAMORS PART 1, 645 AVC
CLAMORS PART 1, 645 AVC
"I don't believe it!" shouted King Jugurtha at the top of his lungs, loud enough that the troops drilling a quarter of a mile away paused for a few seconds, eyeing each other worriedly.
Bomilcar skidded into the command tent a few seconds later, usually being positioned not far from Jugurtha's person. "What is it? What's happened?"
"I get to this stack of letters," Jugurtha's pale eyes were bulging out of his head, "and what do I find?" He paused dramatically, and said vehemently, "That fat bastard!"
Bomilcar entered further into the tent and sighed. "I thought it would happen sooner or later." He knew that Jugurtha was talking about King Bocchus of Mauretania, whose daughter Jugurtha had married to secure his western border.
The geography of modern Morocco, most of which was part of Mauretania
"I ally with him and he demands I marry a daughter just as fat as him, and with a beard to rival his!" Jugurtha hissed. Bomilcar would have chuckled had Jugurtha's fury not overwhelmed him; Jugurtha continued, "And so I say yes, idiot that I am! I should have pushed his lumpy fat carcass into the Ocean and have done with it, then turned around with a safe border."
He blew air out his nose stormily and sat quickly, sprawled in his chair like the most regal king, black eyebrows drawn down over those bright blue eyes. It made him look quite imperial, and Bomilcar loved him in that moment as he'd never loved him before. Oh, if only these Romans could see him! There is no man to match him in all the world.
Bomilcar stepped up to the client's chair and sat down, picking up Bocchus's letter and reading. After a short while he set it down. "So," Bomilcar sighed, "he won't help you at all. Well, he won't fight you, at the very least."
"Gah, Bomilcar, why do you see the good in this? This is despicable! When I've driven the Romans out I'll send him his daughter's head; as he spat on our alliance, so I'll spit on his family!" And to illustrate his point, Jugurtha turned his head and spat on the hard-packed dirt floor of his command tent.
King Bocchus of Mauretania in 634 AVC, aged 33 years; from his youth he was considered by all contemporaries to be a corpulent fellow
Bomilcar raised his eyebrows and made a wry face. "I bet our cities like him now...."
With this prompt, Jugurtha flew into another fit of rage. "Those bastards! I unified the kingdom, brought the tribespeople into the fold, and made enough peace for the silver and gemstone mines to work. How do they repay me? By begging for peace with the Romans, to sell the grain!"
Numidia's farmers had been feeling it since the middle of 644 AVC, and this year it was felt by traders of all goods: With the cease of all trade with the Romans, Numidia's usual small grain surplus had turned into a nightmare; with the Romans not buying, the price of grain shot down and the farmers, while having of course bread and grain enough to eat, suffered with no money to buy other goods and foodstuffs.
The grain merchants were likewise afflicted, and simply stockpiled against the day the farmers ceased output out of protest; then the price would rise. In the meantime, these grain merchants made no profits, and so bought no expensive jewelries and fabrics for their wives and daughters, and ornamental armor and weapons for themselves and their sons.
In a year the effects became apparent. Jewelers, tailors, weavers, smiths, and laborers of all kinds all over Numidia could find no work, from either grain merchants or farmers. Miners, men who collected animal skins--including hunters and butchers, and flax-gatherers suffered. Without any work, few could find the money to even afford the lowest grain prices, and so the grain farmers suffered even more. Before long the situation had escalated out of control, and where once Jugurtha was loved in every city in his dominion, now no man would hesitate to kill him were he not surrounded by satisfied and well-fed soldiers day and night.
Thus King Bocchus of Mauretania, seeing the way the wind blew, declined to send soldiers to aid King Jugurtha of Numidia. His nation traded with Jugurtha's , indeed, and that was the only thing that had kept coastal Numidia from openly rebelling; the only problem was, it was Bocchus's trading that allowed Roman merchants and smugglers to insinuate themselves into the lives of ordinary Numidians. For Bocchus's nation wasn't self-sufficient; he too traded with Rome. And the enterprising--to use Publius Rutilius's words, money-grabbing--Romans decided to cut out the middleman.
This was how Numidians began to hate Jugurtha and become drawn to the Romans and how, in September of 645 AVC, all of coastal Numidia rose up in support of King Gauda, Rome's puppet in Africa Province.
Jugurtha had had to move his operations into the high valleys and plateaus of the mountains, which no coastal-born Berber could navigate; it was his tribespeople and his loyal army that he could depend upon now, and nobody else. He still had grain stockpiled to last a decade or more, but he would need more than that to end this war. Though coastal Numidia was in open rebellion on Gauda's side, raiding and looting with his tribesmen would only push them further from him; it would add legitimacy to the Roman claim that he was a bandit tribal chief out for gold.
Since the coastal people couldn't mount a proper assault on the extensive mountains and plateaus that were Jugurtha's expertise, Jugurtha was free to use his whole army against the Romans. It was exactly what he would do, and he would do it well.
Just then a scout stumbled into the tent. Dirty, sweaty, breathing hard; the young man had probably come from the front. Before King Jugurtha could ask the news he burst out, "My King, the Romans have taken Capsa!"
"Ah!" cried Lucius Cornelius Sulla. "The man of the hour has arrived!"
Publius Rutilius Rufus grinned sheepishly and strode into the expansive atrium of Clitumna's--now Sulla's--house on the Palatine. The assembled crowd, who had been chattering away, turned and gave a round of applause, which Publius Rutilius waved down. "Ah, come on. It's not such an achievement if men like Marcus Junius Silanus can be elected Consul, is it?"
Sulla's good friend, and Consul 646 AVC, Publius Rutilius Rufus
This was taken with good humor by all, even the aforementioned Silanus's good friend since childhood, Quintus Caecilius Metellus Senior, who would be speaking against his own brother Lucius Pontifex Maximus in Silanus's defense when the trial began...which was to say, at some random time in the future, for the Praetors had been nastily slow this year.
Publius Rutilius's taking of Capsa, the south-easternmost city in Numidia, and crucial to King Jugurtha's plan to pile tribesmen and raiders on Roman Africa's southern border, had been considered so daring and brave, as well as valuable--less important to Romans--that he was immediately bombarded with letters imploring him to seek the Consulship. Family, friends, admirers, and even enemies who desired a good fight for the curule chair; all of them drowned him in letters, and even his commander, Proconsul Quintus Caecilius, ordered him to return to Rome. For though Quintus Senior did regard Publius Rutilius as something of a usable minion, he had been so hardworking and loyal over the years that this was quite a fitting reward.
And so in October, not a month after taking Capsa, Publius Rutilius was in Rome, and Consul-Designate, to be inaugurated on New Year's Day; not, alas, senior Consul. That distinction was taken by Quintus Lutatius Catulus Caesar, who had the support of the conservative equestrians and those not bound hand and foot to the Caecilii Metelli. Being a Novus Homo whose father had only just barely made Praetor, Publius Rutilius was content with this minor relegation.
Congratulations over, the party--held at Sulla's house because of his extremely good taste--went on quite splendidly. Eventually Publius Rutilius had the chance to extricate himself from well-wishers and admirers desirous of tales of Numidia, and sidled up to Caecilia Metella Sullana, as she was now known. "Dear daughter," he said, for he'd always been very fond of her, "how is married life treating you?"
Caecilia Metella Sullana, aged 20 in 645 AVC, on the day of her marriage
Caecilia Metella Sullana, who had always had a healthy and happy glow about her when she had been simply Caecilia Metella, now positively shone. "Oh Publius Rutilius, it's a dream come true; fascinating! Lucius Cornelius is so brave, so handsome, so...." Publius Rutilius listened, nodding absently, as she listed a thousand different virtues held by Sulla.
After this, he managed to get to Sulla, who was beleaguered by fawning men and purring women; pulling him away, he drew him away from the atrium and into the peristyle garden, where he was surprised to see that day was turning into night. Had he been here so long?
As usual, the cool breeze and green hues of the garden had a soothing effect on their subjects; the walk of the two friends slowed. "Ah, Lucius Cornelius," Publius Rutilius explained his diversion with a sigh. "You lead quite the charmed life."
Sulla, the eternal actor, grinned with pleasure, but careful not to show his unnerving canines. "I am quite aware of that," he said with feeling. "Caecilia Metella is the perfect wife."
"The perfect Roman matron," nodded Publius Rutilius sloppily, having drank too much of Sulla's excellent wine. Sulla nodded. "How goes Africa?"
"Well, excellent when I left. We--er, Quintus Caecilius--left Gnaeus Domitius in charge." Sulla frowned, and Publius Rutilius noticed.
"Oh, I know. The idiot. He'll screw something up." Sulla began to nod and then Publius Rutilius giggled, "And what of Aulus Manlius?"
Sulla grinned ferally now, canines on full display. "Oh, that masquerader was sent off to Rome two nundinae before Quintus Caecilius and I left, with orders to the effect that he would not be needed next year." Publius Rutilius laughed and Sulla responded, "Yeah, he's been bugging his Manlius Torquatius 'relatives' about it for a month, but it seems that even they've become embarrassed by him."
Publius Rutilius became serious for a moment. As they rounded the fourth corner of the garden and moved to re-enter the atrium, he said solemnly, "Woe to the man who crosses you, Lucius Cornelius." In spite of Sulla's resolve, he shivered; Publius Rutilius didn't feel it. He re-entered the party as if he had never left.
Sulla crept around the edges, never remaining in a group for too long and coldly shaking off any habitual conversationalists. He withdrew into himself. Oh, the dullness of this party; the horror of it all. Clitumna and Nicopolis would weep were they alive; nobody roaring drunk, nobody fornicating in the not-dark-enough corners, nobody dancing naked in the garden. It was a travesty. Oh, well. If Sulla was to be known for his excellent Roman taste, he would have to act it all out, to the bitter end.
A hand clapped him on the shoulder. "Oh, here's my son-in-law!" It was Quintus Caecilius with a dour, fleshy-lipped man about Sulla's age at his side. "Lucius Cornelius, I'd like you to meet my brother-in-law Lucius Licinius Lucullus."
Strange that his wife would cheat on him, thought Sulla upon seeing the man, for Lucius Licinius looked as if he had iron in him. And indeed, Sulla's knowledge of Caecilia Metella Calva's affairs came not from the grapevine, but from personal experience; he'd been one of her favorite lovers. "Lucius Licinius," Sulla grasped his arm in the Roman handshake, and knew from his reaction that he didn't know of Sulla's dalliance with his wife.
"Lucius Cornelius," Lucullus replied in kind. "I won't overwhelm you with praise; all I say is: A job well done."
Sulla smiled now, no acting; he was genuinely pleased. "Lucius Licinius, that is the best thing anybody's said to me all month. Being busy chasing those buggers all over the desert, I've heard not a word of Servius Sulpicius Galba's year in Gaul. How was it?"
Lucullus gave a grimace and said, "The best thing that can be said is that the man's not as inactive and chair-bound as Quintus Hortensius."
Sulla hissed, "That's not saying much." Quintus Caecilius Senior, who had supported both men for the Consulship, excused himself woodenly on some pretext that amused both Sulla and Lucullus.
"Yes," said Lucullus after Quintus Caecilius had left. "We spent all year sitting; in all twelve months that I served with him, we marched maybe a thousand miles."
Sulla shook his head. "That's a disgrace. How can we hope to defeat the Germans with bookworms like Hortensius and Servius Sulpicius in the curule chair? We need men of substance, men who know the soldiers."
"Like yourself?" Lucullus grinned.
Sulla grinned back, canines on full display. "And why not? Quintus Caecilius and our Pontifex Maximus Lucius Caecilius also come to mind."
"One your father-in-law, the other uncle-in-law. How brilliantly you've set yourself up!" he joshed. "Well, this year we have Quintus Lutatius, so that's something."
"Quintus Lutatius!" Sulla's pale eyebrows rose. "I tell you, Publius Rutilius has more of command and soldiering in a hair than Quintus Lutatius does in his entire body!"
Lucius Licinius sniffed, grin gone. "Publius Rutilius is a New Man, you can't compare them."
It took all Sulla's will not to roll his eyes, for here was Lucius Licinius Lucullus, grandson of a New Man, insulting all New Men! He opted for the tangential approach, "I'm a Patrician, Lucius Licinius, which means that I know more than most what exclusivity and nobility mean; if Fortuna has chanced to throw us a great general in Publius Rutilius--and Spurius Dellius, I don't hesitate to add!--then we cannot argue against Fortuna. These men are right for Rome."
Lucullus let it drop with a casual shrug externally; internally, he was painfully aware of his own status as a Plebeian and a New Man's grandson, and determined to not allow any more New Men to dilute his family's influence. Marriage alliance with the conservative Caecilii Metelli had been a good step in the right direction, but this Lucius Cornelius seemed opposed to his ideas. Just what was he up to?
Sulla had Lucullus's full measure, and disguised his contempt. I shall have to try to sleep with his wife as often as possible, he mused idly, ready for a diversion to while away the homecoming month, before going back to Africa. To put the affair back in motion, he must be invited to Lucullus's house, so he began by putting him in his debt. "Lucius Licinius, how would you like to come to dinner at my house next week?"
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Personally, I rather you not mention the modern borders in the captions (like saying the geography of modern Morocco), because there would be no "modern Morocco" or "modern Tunisia" in the TL. Though that's just a personal preference.
I hope he takes you up on it. The TL is interesting but seeing a pic of Arnold as Conan the barbarian serving as a stand-in for Jurgurtha almost made me lose my lunch!
tuareg109
Banned
Wow, thanks for the offer! Next time I need a drawing, I sure will PM you. Do you want a week or so in advance?
Oh, and you can see that Jugurtha's having as many problems as the Romans are!
slydessertfox said:
Hmmm, I'll see what I can do in future updates. It's just that I realize some readers might not be experts of geography, and might not know that that's Morocco. It's sort of an aesthetic thing, so that everybody knows what part of the world I'm talking about.
Also, having a great TL of your own, what do you think of how character-driven it is? I'll be honest and say I'm working about a TL-year in advance, just surmising what the characters would do. There's no overarching plot behind it, really.
Herzen's love-child said:
Well, that was just a joke! Though it really is very hard to find a contemporary portrait of Jugurtha, this was parodying Quintus Caecilius Senior and Gnaeus Domitius's opinion of non-Romans.
I'm doing the same thing with my timeline as well. I just kind of move with the flow and usually don't know more than the next update or two ahead. I have a debate with myself what the characters would do, especially when I'm bored at school lol.