FOR WANT OF THE HAMMER

tuareg109

Banned
Brrkrrrhrhrrr...
Brrhkrrr
ZZZzzzzZZT
ZZT
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Tango 109, Tango 109, do you read me???

Uh, yeah...I think.

Oh thank Goodness, son. We thought we'd lost you.

I...I thought I was a goner. I saw...things. Things you people wouldn't believe.

What'd you see, son?

Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched c-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. I am now so...ALIVE!

Tango 109, believe me, you are LUCKY to be alive. Ready to continue the good work?

Yes, sir. Let the fun begin.


Yay! After a weeklong furlough in Coventry--which I thought would be a lifelong siesta!--I'm back. My kick ended at 9AM here (Eastern US Time), but I worked until 3. Update coming soon soon soon.
 

tuareg109

Banned
FOR WANT OF THE HAMMER

ROMA ET ITALIA PART 3, 646 AVC​

Publius Rutilius Rufus bustled along into the Forum, not slowing down when others hailed him and forcing those wishing to speak with him to keep up. Not that he was angry--by no means was he angry! He had a bright, wide smile on his face, and all of Rome that saw that smile on the junior Consul's face that day went home feeling happier. At least, until the other news broke next morning.

But more of that anon, as Publius Rutilius was wont to say--not that he knew yet. Nor do you, dear reader. Publius Rutilius swept into the Curia, which was quite full today. Routine meetings taking place once a week during most months and never during high summer--as was the season now, late June--often saw poor attendance; few men wanted to discuss the boring and obvious routine goings-on that kept the State running.

A specially convened session, however, turned heads. Something special or controversial was sure to be discussed, and Romans loved nothing more than to get their blood riled up. Furthermore, there were two wars to consider, and no news had come from both of those quarters--from Catulus Caesar in Gaul against the elusive Germans, and from Quintus Caecilius Metellus in Africa against the elusive Jugurtha--had arrived for some months.

Well, that's what all the Senators thought, that it was Quintus Caecilius Metellus in Africa. Only Publius Rutilius knew--and only by virtue of this late letter--that it was Sulla commanded in Africa, because Quintus Caecilius had died. Oh, how the man's son would cry when he heard! And yet...Publius Rutilius couldn't help but feel that Sulla was surely doing better than Quintus Caecilius ever could have. Pushing aside the guilty feeling stemming from his pleasure that Sulla was in command, he reasoned that it was what was best for Rome.

Publius Rutilius swept into the Curia, and the talk dwindled quickly. Most of the Senators were already there--Scaurus, the Caecilii Metelli, and other aristocrats like Marcus Livius Drusus, Quintus Servilius Caepio, and Scipio Nasica sitting quite together; and then there were the two Licinii Crassi and the Quintus Muciuses, cousins that were thick as thieves, with the one and only Licinius Lucullus not far from them; and the new men Titus Didius, Lucius Pedius, Lucius Vettius, and Titus Bruttius sitting together looking content; and the Valerii Flacci; and then the Picentine Quintus Pompeius Rufus, looking lonely without his distant cousin Gnaeus Pompeius Strabo. There were many others, of course--penurious patrician backbenchers (like the old Gaius Julius Caesar of the junior branch of the Julii Caesares), unknown men who'd barely scraped in as Quaestor (like one Quintus Varius), the variegated Tribunes of the Plebs (including the shady Gaius Fulcinius!), and others.

Last of all through the doors--for Publius Rutilius had seen him running from a distance--came the puffing and sweating, red-faced and already fleshy Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus Pontiff. Though only 29 years old and not yet a Quaestor, he was entitled to sit in the Senate due to his Pontifical status. He nodded a hasty apology to Publius Rutilius and took a seat, whereupon the junior Consul sat and the auspices were taken.

As always the omens were good, and Publius Rutilius commenced with the meeting. He stood and moved to the center of the Curia, between the two straight tiered rows. "Honored Conscript Fathers of the Senate, I have in my hand," he raised that same hand--his right--for emphasis, "a letter from Lucius Cornelius Sulla, in Africa."

Muttering began immediately, and Quintus Caecilius's brother Lucius Pontifex Maximus leaned forward with worried interest plain on his face--it was unusual for a subordinate to write official dispatches, and not the supreme commander. Publius Rutilius held both hands up for silence, and the mutters became a quiet buzz. "I shall not preface it, let me simply read it out." He unrolled the unsealed letter and began:

"Dear Conscript Fathers of the Senate, I have not yet received a reply to my previous three letters--" a new outbreak of murmurs commenced--What three letters?--which the Consul silenced with a stern look "--and so must assume that the messengers were taken by bandits or Numidians, which amounts to much the same thing, may the gods curse them.

"It is so that I bear news both bitter and sweet, if you have not had the other letters. Bitter shall come first, and I shall not coat my words with salt to make them palatable: the Proconsul Quintus Caecilius Metellus died on the third of May peacefully, and in his sleep. He has been cremated according to all Roman traditions, and I will personally bear his ashes to his son and heir, Quintus Caecilius Metellus. I--as superior Legate--have suggested that he be posthumously awarded an Ovation, and the cognomen of Numidicus. The Legates, Military Tribunes, Centurions, and ordinary Legionnaires agreed unanimously; his care of them and responsibility for the success of this venture is indisputable.

"Now come the sweet news: Yesterday, ten days before the Kalends of Iunius, I defeated King Jugurtha of Numidia in open battle not five miles from his main capital of Cirta. Our 20,000 Romans defeated 25,000 mixed Numidians--mostly cavalry--in a stunning feat of bravery and honor."

A sigh of happiness and cries of joy and mirth disrupted the reading, amid Lucius Pontifex Maximus's quiet sobs. The Consul continued, "I am told by Numidian prisoners that King Jugurtha's half-brother, best friend, and only absolutely loyal baron, Bomilcar, fell on the field, and that Jugurtha escaped capture only by the skin of his teeth. Rest assured that I--who have very sharp teeth--shall sink them into his hide soon enough. Roman Africa is safe, my dear colleagues, and I am currently investing the city of Cirta, safe and well supplied. The entire Numidian coast belong to us and our allies in Mauretania, and the taking of Cirta will lessen King Jugurtha's grip like nothing else.

"Long live Rome!"

Grown men stood hugging each other and shaking hands, utterly delighted. Publius Rutilius moved that Quintus Caecilius's honors be observed, and that Sulla be given an Ovation upon his return; both motions were passed unanimously, and the session was formally ended in high spirits for all. Senators ran chattering home to tell their friends and sons, or else lingered in the Forum to celebrate with hot treats and cool drinks.

Publius Rutilius lingered and engaged in much Consular business. Lucky for him that he was intelligent and efficient man, in any case. With Catulus Caesar in Gaul commanding an army against the Germans, Publius Rutilius had double the workload of any typical Consul, and situations in Hispania, Gaul, Macedonia, Asia, Africa, and of course Italia had him busy all day.

He went to bed tired but at ease. One less thing to worry about. Numidia was in Sulla's firm, competent grasp, and Publius Rutilius might just convince the Senate that he would do just fine without needing a Proconsular or Propraetorian commander to replace Quintus Caecilius. He drifted off to dark, dreamless sleep....

...And was awakened by Eudamidas the Steward in the middle of the night, all dark and no light. Ah, he thought. Is it Gnaeus Domitius, dead again? Then he shook the events now six months gone out of his head and sat up. "What is it, man?"

Eudamidas bowed and croaked, "Sir, it is Quintus Caecilius Metellus Juni--no, now it is simply Quintus Caecilius Metellus. He is here to see you, Dominus. From Gaul."

Heart thumping, Publius Rutilius swept past his steward and out of the room. Rushing to the study, he thought. Quintus Caecilius was supposed to be in Gallia Provincia, Military Tribune to the senior Consul, Catulus Caesar. What was he doing here? And Eudamidas's lack of composure....

He burst into his study and found the young man standing there, pale and tired; to exhausted, indeed, to jump at the frighteningly loud sound of the Consul's arrival. "Sit, dear boy!" Publius Rutilius Rufus took action. "What's the matter, what's happened? Why are you here!"

Piglet gave a heavy sigh, grey eyes wandering to the Consul's face. "Publius Rutilius..." he began, and shuddered. "I've just ridden from Arausio to Rome in three days. I've had two horses die under me."

"GET ON WITH IT, MAN!" the usually placid Rufus roared.

"We lost. Quintus Lutatius Catulus Caesar lost. The entire army is dead."


Lucius Licinius Lucullus rushed through the hushed streets. It was a day after Publius Rutilius and red-eyed young Quintus Caecilius had given the news in the House, and all of Rome was subdued. Except for the Subura--the people of the Subura had no family or friends among any Romans wealthy enough for military service, and the only evidence that they were affected by the defeat was an interested gravitation toward the Forum, to see whether any Tribune of the Plebs or an aspiring Orator would rouse a storm of indignation. But nothing came.

Lucullus was going to visit one of those Tribunes of the Plebs. Gaius Fulcinius rushed him into the garden looking appropriately grave, and they stood still and talked in low voices, ignoring the delicate beauty of the trees and bushes surrounding them.

"I need it now," said Lucullus, face mottled. He, who had to cater to the conservatives for current political reasons, was disgusted. Lucullus--part of the prosecution set to speak against Marcus Junius Silanus--had been informed by Marcus Aemilius Scaurus and Marcus Livius Drusus that the prosecution had dropped the case; there was no evidence. Inwardly scowling, Lucullus had accepted the news calmly as if it was inevitable; after all, how could the Boni--the "Good Men", as Scaurus liked to call his faction--prosecute the friendless and hated Marcus Junius Silanus, and then turn around and defend Catulus Caesar, one of their own, for the same thing?

And so the prosecution crumbled and became the defense. Not that any defense more than psychological was needed, for there was no man prosecuting Silanus now, and no case lodged against him with the Urban Praetor, or the Praetor in charge of the Treason Court. Marcus Junius Silanus, the incompetent who had lost his entire army against the Germans, was free, and very relieved; he had had no friends for something bordering on two years, but was now riding again in the highest circles, accepting many grudging apologies. That such a stellar and honorable man, from such an ancient and noble family--both birth and adoptive--should err so caused most of the Boni to reevaluate their standards, and only a very few intelligent few--like Scaurus, and like Lucullus--to curse Catulus Caesar to the high heavens in their minds, and to defend his actions in public.

Some--like Scipio Nasica and Marcus Livius Drusus--even deigned to deride young Quintus Caecilius Metellus as a traitor and tattletale, which earned them the hard fists of that large clan of Caecilii. This infuriated Lucullus, who saw Quintus Caecilius and his late father as the epitome of Roman virtue...though he did find their ties to Sulla unfortunate, both out of jealousy and principle.

Gaius Fulcinius answered, "I only need a little bit of time, dear Lucius Licinius." Their friendship was one of mutual need, and they would never be on first-name terms. "Give me until early August, and I guarantee you that Treason--and hopefully all courts!--will be in the province of the equestrians, entirely. You'll get your conviction of Silanus by the middle of August, with so many knights working hard to prosecute him; Catulus Caesar's case will be started at least by January 1st, when he leaves office."

Lucullus groaned. "No, for Catulus Caesar I have to wait another year! The man is Consul, and next year he is Proconsul! He'll go on to govern a province and accumulate wealth while I'm stuck here with a thumb up my ass. Given 18 months the odium will die down, I guarantee it! He'll never pay for this desecration, this...this...this sacrilege!"

Gaius Fulcinius had Lucullus's measure entirely. Too mediocre in the law courts and as an administrator to ever be considered Catulus Caesar's match, and as hopeless as he on the field of battle, Lucullus wanted revenge for the privilege that Catulus Caesar's birth and brains had given him. Oh, if Gaius Fulcinius himself were a tenth so vengeful against those more fortunate, all of Rome would be burning! But no, he only had an iota of revenge in him and so, though Lucullus's reasons repulsed him so, he found the end result desirable.

"Oh," Gaius Fulcinius answered, all this flashing by in his head, "I'll deal with that. I have...a great, great trick up my sleeve."

"What is it?" asked Lucullus with an eager grin, looking like a dog that's just sniffed something marvelous cooking.

Gaius Fulcinius grinned in return. "Oh, you'll see, my friend. You'll see."


TA-DA! The more you know.

EDIT: Added a few things and fixed two small mistakes of style.
 
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tuareg109

Banned
Well, that wasn't as bad as expected! If you look at the first post, you'll see that I've moved the Table of Contents and List of Consuls to the wiki page (new, just made by me), so as to avoid the bother of messaging a Mod every time I want the lists edited after October 30th.

Massa Chief said:
Good to see you and this back
Click to expand...

Thanks!
 

tuareg109

Banned
FOR WANT OF THE HAMMER

NUMIDIA PART 5, 646 AVC​

Sulla stepped out of his command tent after waking that morning and girding himself in his general's regalia, and stretched luxuriously. Ah, but he'd had a great time of it the past two months, tramping all over Numidia with nobody to gainsay him or check his behavior. Gnaeus Pompeius Strabo absolutely reveled in the campaign that had wended along the coast and then into the dry interior, and all the other Legates and Military Tribunes had enjoyed the leisurely pace, the curious lack of resistance, and the fine--and for Numidia in early summer, unusually wet--weather.

AWBNRhj.jpg

Depicted: Sulla's independent campaign in Numidia. Red trail indicates his travels, black line indicates borders of Roman Africa. Ignore other political markers and colors
1. Early May: Quintus Caecilius Metellus dies, and Sulla pushes on to Cirta
2. Mid-May: After skirting the coast and pushing inland, Sulla wins the Battle of Cirta and invests the city. He takes it near the end of May
3. Early June: Sulla moves quickly through the inland valleys and the low mountains, destroying villages and killing all Numidians found
4. Mid-June: After passing by Tipasa, Sulla meets King Bocchus of Mauretania and turns back, secure that the distant parts of Numidia are taken care of. He links with metropolitan Tipasa, where Roman traders have influenced the population into opening the gates
5. Late June: After linking with the loyal, anti-Jugurtha coastal Numidians, Sulla turns to the inland plateau, certain that Jugurtha has regrouped. After fighting only a few skirmishes and destroying more peasant villages, he concludes that he was wrong
6. Early July: Anticipating a senatorial dispatch, Sulla moves back to Cirta and makes camp there, waiting for Jugurtha--who might be done for!​

While there had not been much loot, the soldiers were content; Sulla had never put them in danger or under hardship, and they loved him for it. To add to that, they had had plenty of fine breezy days along the coast, many a swim in the sea and the rivers during their coastal marches, and plenty of feisty--and mostly unwilling, but not a few of the soldiers liked that--and exotic Berber women.

Yes, Sulla nodded, it had been the perfect campaign. He'd defeated Jugurtha and taken his capital in the beginning, had met with Bocchus and been assured of alliance and compliance, and come back to find no trouble, and Cirta just as he'd left it--now with a plentiful influx of Roman traders and businessmen coming in and setting up shop, under the correct assumption that it would be King Gauda's capital in the near future.

Now Sulla would just have to see how the Senate reacted. It was true that he'd been bolder by far than Gnaeus Domitius Ahenobarbus in his penetration of Numidia--well, he'd gone halfway to Mauretania!--but his spoils were also as great, and he'd won a battle more difficult and in a more decisive manner than that ignorant, furious man. In addition, Sulla was well liked by both Consuls, and all businessmen involved in Africa and Numidia--and there were a lot of them--would canvass tirelessly in support of him.

Yes, Sulla nodded again, he was absolutely safe from prosecution. He looked up at the imposing fortress of Cirta, which had been King Jugurtha's palace, and around which the city was built. To better accommodate his men and to be on-site in event of an emergency or a battle, Sulla had elected to remain on the flat plateau east of the city. This also would allow him to slip easily north around and into the city in case of a massive attack from the south, should Jugurtha be able to drum up the support.

And yet, Sulla fancied that Jugurtha had lost support even among the tribes. Raids in Africa--where the administration still communicated with Sulla regularly--had lessened to pre-war levels, and coastal cities were safe, with no news of attacks. It was either hopeful...or ominous.

Sulla walked over to see what the officers' cook was stirring for breakfast, when a sweaty, pale man jogged over from the stables. Sulla stopped, knowing that the only way a man could be so sweaty in the early morning coolness was if he'd been riding for hours. He waited for the young man to reach him.

"Sir," he said, eyeing Sulla's superior uniform. "You are Lucius Cornelius Sulla, general of these legions?"

"Yes," Sulla nodded. "A letter from the Senate." It was not a question.

The young man nodded. "Sir," he said respectfully, and handed two letters over.

Not gazing at them, Sulla said, "Why don't you rest a bit, then go down to the river, or into the city for a bath? Eat first, if you want; the officers' cook is right over there." Sulla pointed, "Just tell him that I sent you."

"Thank you, Sir," the young man said gratefully, glad to be out from under the scrutiny of those pale eyes, and strode off toward the cook. Sulla watched him go, and then lifted the letters in his hands. The first was from the Senate, and the second was from none other than Quintus Caecilius Metellus Piglet!

Eyes lighting, and mind wondering how Piglet and Catulus Caesar fared in Gallia Provincia, Sulla moved to his tent to have some privacy. Though it was not as cool as outside, and a bit dark, Sulla could see fine, and had pen and paper with which to compose a response. Piglet's letter was the one he opened first; though the young men was a poor conversationalist, his letter would shed light on the Senate's dispatches before he read them.

My dear Lucius Cornelius Sulla,

Oh, isn't it dreadful! [Sulla grinned, thinking of Piglet's tears at the news of his father's death] First my father dies so far from the city he loved and served, and now this! A disaster worse than Silanus's [Sulla's heart leapt, and he sat up now, face grave], as you surely know from the Senate's dispatches. I was there, Lucius Cornelius, I was there, and I assure you that Quintus Lutatius Catulus Caesar is a cancer in Rome's side; a cancer of old aristocrats with more tangible and living ancestors than brains conceitedly leading armies into defeat, despite the advice of their military betters.

I shall fill in what the Senate of course omitted: I advised Quintus Lutatius to turn back time and again, and to attain a better position, but he would not listen. He made an idiot boast, that no Gaul would set foot on Roman land while he was Consul; well, he failed in that boast! They rolled over us like a cart's wheel over a cockroach. It was such that we barely escaped with our lives, up that narrow valley's sides.

[Sulla was now interested, for Piglet was being much more articulate than usual] Quintus Lutatius and the rest of the staff just watched them coming, like a tidal wave to wash us away. I went into action, pulling them along while the legions held them off--brave legions, men and boys who are almost all dead now. We scrambled up the rocky sides--for that I still bear the scars of the sharp rocks all over my arms and legs--of the valley, and were in the more-or-less wild hills of the Alpine hinterlands.

A tribe of Romanized Allobroges found us. They conducted Quintus Lutatius and the staff to Massilia, there to find a ship and travel to Rome. I saw it as my duty to "run off" and "betray my commander", as Marcus Livius Drusus and Scipio Nasica so succinctly put it. [Here Sulla shook with quiet rage; he found that he was quite protective of Piglet] I rode through the lands of the Salassi and Insubres like the wind, so I don't know if those half-wild tribes would have taken me for ransom. With my bad luck my horse died just as I reached Placentia, though with good luck then I was able--and with my name, of course--to obtain another one and set off straight away.

I arrived in Rome after three more horses had been spent, and went straight to Publius Rutilius's house. Now half the Curia loves me, and half the Curia hates me. The case against Marcus Junius Silanus has been dropped, as it would cause quite a stir if they prosecuted him for losing an army, and then defended their dear old friend, and in most cases cousin or brother-in-law, Catulus Caesar for exactly the same thing. He'll walk free, and Catulus Caesar will no doubt walk free. ["Damn incompetents," Sulla growled fiercely, and read on] Though Scaurus of course has to support him--it's politics!--I've noticed lately that he's been distancing himself from Catulus Caesar--smart old man! Nor is Lucullus too quick to speak to him--though I'd put that more to his marriage to my aunt, than to any decent brains. [Sulla found a grin for this correct analysis] A surprise was that the erstwhile filial and devoted Marcus Livius Drusus Junior has split with his father on this issue--now that, coming from him, is probably brains!

Though we used to be quite good friends, I can't really say that he's all too dear to me now. He doesn't really approve of any--even good, and fruitful!--unorthodox military actions, and he's made a point of covering both ears against his best friend Quintus Servilius Caepio Junior when it comes to the inevitable upcoming trial against Gnaeus Domitius Ahenobarbus--who, I point out, did not lose an army, but will come under fire! How bizarre we Romans must look.

So, Marcus Livius Junior cannot really be counted your friend. Just a bit more, for my hand is cramping: the Senate, and the Boni in particular, are really being devastated by even the most important equestrians. Titus Pomponius--as you know, a leader in all things equestrian and usually cleaving to Scaurus and the Boni like we Romans cleave to olive oil--is especially scathing, complaining that equestrian business and the equestrians' sons serving in the armies suffer from Senatorial incompetence. In fact, he demands that an experienced equestrian be Co-Legate to every general!

It seems that there will be a ferocious fight for the political offices next year, Lucius Cornelius, if we of the old Senatorial order are to keep our places. Also, that horrid man Gaius Fulcinius is helping Titus Pomponius any way he can. Intelligent he is, I'll give him that, but he's said nothing of note in several months, and visits Pomponius every day; how suspicious this makes me, I cannot put in words.

With love, Quintus Caecilius Metellus

"Oh well done, Quintus Caecilius!" sighed Sulla aloud. "You've acquitted yourself in a way worthy of Publius Rutilius." And Sulla wondered if he hadn't been wrong about the Piglet's being a poor conversationalist.

Well, Sulla stood, rage coursing quietly through him. There was nothing to do but to read the Senate's dispatches, and see what they said.


It had been as he'd suspected. Five of his six legions were to be sent to Massilia posthaste, to replace the ones lost by Catulus Caesar. One was to be left to garrison Utica, and Sulla and his staff were to hie themselves home to Rome; to what fate, no man knew.

But not before achieving peace; even in his weakened state, King Jugurtha could beat a paltry and leaderless legion of demoralized Romans, and probably take over Africa. Of course, the only peace that Sulla was authorized to offer was status quo ante bellum.

So Sulla cast his nets out, mostly south and west, and found that Jugurtha had been in the desert far south of the mountains, biding his time and gathering Berbers who were far from the fold of Numidia, and yet yearned for the riches and easy--or at least easier--life to be found there. Having lost the soft tribes of his mother's kinsmen, Jugurtha had turned to the hard, desperate men of the pitiless desert.

They met in a small grove not far from Cirta, for Jugurtha believed in Sulla's honor in that he would not be attacked, and Sulla believed in Jugurtha's honor, and so rode alone through ranks of dirty tribesmen. If Sulla had looked like a Caecilius Metellus, or like Jugurtha, or even like a red-haired Publius Rutilius Rufus, they would have been sneering and squinting in that awkward, perpetual way that the sun and sand had pushed upon them.

As it was, he was Lucius Cornelius Sulla. Their eyes went wide and they gaped at the skin as pale as milk, and the bright, hard, ice-colored eyes, and at the sight of his hair with the rising sun behind it, illuminating the fiery red-gold man into a halo that made them gasp audibly. Could he be the Greek Apollo, or the corporeal shade of the legendary Alexander of Makedon, of whom even these illiterate and isolated people had heard?

They shook their heads and still wondered, and Jugurtha saw this, and quickly led Sulla under the shade of the grove and out of their site, for fear of what a prolonged effect--a long dose of Sulla--would have upon them. All people have an awe for the striking, and the different. If Jugurtha's pale blue eyes could astound them, what did they think of this Roman demigod?

It was their first meeting, and each man liked what he saw. Though Sulla was almost a head shorter than King Jugurtha, his bearing and the simple oddity of his being--his paleness and his Roman-ness, and his status as one of the most ancient patricians--put them on much the same level; for though Jugurtha was physically imposing and darkly handsome, he was nevertheless the bastard son of a jumped-up Greco-Punic bandit's son. Sulla's ancestors had been kings in Latium before Rome ever existed; after that, the Cornelii had supplied more than a third of the Consuls during the four hundred and two years of the Republic's existence.

Sulla was a Cornelius, and that led to respect, and awe, and gratefulness...and not a little fear, from Numidians on the coast and inland, who had been under the Carthaginian yoke before Rome came onto the scene. Not a Scipio, but they didn't know that, and didn't scrutinize such distinctions.

It made him dangerous, Jugurtha knew, and yet he had to treat with him. Here, with all the vicious tribesmen on display. It would gall Lucius Cornelius, Jugurtha thought, and he might make an easier peace.

"Well, Lucius Cornelius," said King Jugurtha, leaning against a nice cool tree in the grove, with the breeze cooling his skin.

"Well, King Jugurtha." Sulla resolved to dive right into it: "I won't lie to you; I hate politics, and I hate trickery. The facts are that a Consul of Rome has lost his entire army in Gaul, and the Senate's recalling five of my six legions. With one legion I can do nothing except be fucked by six thousand men, and in any case I'm off to Rome, probably to face some accusations or other of treason. I'm authorized to give you a status quo ante bellum. We withdraw to our borders, and you go on to pacify Cirta and the coast, wage war against Mauretania, and whatever else you want. Honestly, Rome wouldn't--couldn't--stop you if you killed all our merchants in Cirta and other cities, but I'd rather prefer you didn't. That's that."

Jugurtha stared, unblinking. He was so surprised by this diatribe that he chewed over his words for fifteen second before replying. "Truly?"

"Yes," Sulla nodded. "The idiots want me gone, and the legions in Gaul, so I'm going. Will you have peace?"

"And if I say no?" Jugurtha asked craftily.

"Well then, I daresay you could route us on the way back to the sea, and take Africa after slaying King Bocchus's fat carcass, and pacifying the coast...but if you do that, I won't kill that great problem of yours."

"And what's that?"

"Gauda. Don't cause Rome any more trouble, King Jugurtha, and I will personally kill Prince Gauda in Utica, and in the future urge the Senate to see it your way in every debate about Africa...at least, that is, until I come into the Consulship," Sulla grinned, revealing those terrible long canines, and all too conscious of their effect on men.

"Oh," Jugurtha frowned and just barely suppressed a shiver. His face had lit up at the mention of Gauda the Nuisance's death, but had now fallen suddenly, "And why's that?"

"I always finish what I start, Jugurtha."

Lucius Cornelius Sulla and King Jugurtha of Numidia had their peace, status quo ante bellum, on the fifth day of Quintilis.
 
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Grouchio

I can no longer tell who's winning and who's losing. Ah well. I guess I'll still rejoice when the Cimbri make the non-marian legions crash and burn. :D
 

tuareg109

Banned
Grouchio said:
I can no longer tell who's winning and who's losing. Ah well. I guess I'll still rejoice when the Cimbri make the non-marian legions crash and burn. :D
Click to expand...

Well, as it's modeled on history, there'll be a lot of "pushing and pulling", and very little "winning and losing". Especially on such a small (about 5 posts/year) time frame; great historical events just don't take only a year or two to occur, especially in this time period when communication was much slower.

Also, this isn't like "After Actium" or "Isaac's Empire". Due to the structure and style of those great TL's, the ultimate outcome of some new events are often revealed after one or two posts, or in the same post that the event occurs in; in my TL, which is in more of a "soap opera" style (which I am conscious, but not necessarily proud or ashamed, of), the events that influence people's lives will first be seen to affect them and elicit a reaction. The events themselves, and reactions to them, then influence the outside world...after five or ten posts.

I know you're pushing for Jugurtha, Grouchio! I promise you, he'll have his day.
 

Grouchio

I am pretty much rooting for a Roman-screw since the POD is Marius being dead. I hope that future events may convince the Greeks in Macedonia, Achaea and Asia to revolt when the time is right (Cimbri invasions) and restore their old governments, for example. Maybe Hispania could revolt too. Gaul is remaining free. :D
 

tuareg109

Banned
Oh I assure you that Mithridates Eupator is still very much alive, and doing about as well as he did in OTL before Sulla and Pompey's commands! Gaius Marius's early death and the effects--so far--on the Republic and its political climate haven't sent any significant butterflies in that direction.

Jugurtha is, of course, alive and well.

The Celtiberians are snug in Spain, and the lack of Gaius Marius's very effective campaigns against the brigands and tribes adjacent to and residing in Hispania Ulterior during his Propraetorship means that Rome's influence in the region is just that much smaller.

Greece and Macedonia are much as they were during this period: smallish cities with large, largely uninhabited regions in between; an intellectual wasteland denuded of an urban population due to Roman policies in the region.

Asia is of course squeaking under the abuse of the tax-gathering publicani. Of course, being abusive, extortionate, and generating money for the Treasury, the system of the publicani was the only one of Gaius Gracchus's reforms that the Senate decided to keep in this timeline.

Italian Gaul is much as it was: in a state of limbo, with Gallic tribes in the Alpine valleys to the north and a culturally very Romanized but genetically very Gallic population in the wide, fertile Padus Valley. Since the logistics of transporting grain--either by cart or by ship--from the Padus over the Apennines or the seas to Rome are a nightmare, Italian Gaul is not regarded as very important by the Senate or any Roman for that matter.

Gallia Provincia is a very Iliad of woes, and a den of scum and villainy--I include in this Catulus Caesar and Silanus, as well as the Germans; well, this is most Romans' opinion, in any case. Germans running around doing gods-know-what, not sensibly following through with their victories; Romanized Gauls crying to Scaurus Princeps Senatus and generally being a nuisance; native Gauls gleefully taking advantage of the situation to ambush Germans and Romans alike for loot; and the Greek Massiliotes both being a nuisance and taking advantage, as the Germans could turn on them any time, but the Massiliotes themselves--taking advantage of native panic and Roman need--can charge extortionate prices on shipping and transportation.
 

tuareg109

Banned
FOR WANT OF THE HAMMER

ROMA ET ITALIA PART 4, 646 AVC​

Though the Lex Fulcinia de iudicio and the ease of its passing were a huge shock to the noble Senate and its dearest adherents, the able members of that class still came out to observe the Supplicia Canum. In the six weeks since Catulus Caesar had lost his army in Gaul-across-the-Alps, Gaius Fulcinius had been working day and night writing and editing and rewording and remaking; and had finally come up with the finished product, and presented it to the Concilium Plebis--the Plebeian Assembly--at the very end of Quintilis--two days before the Kalends of Sextilis.

It came as quite a shock to the Senate, plebeian and patrician alike, and that day found the Well of the Comitia a seething mass of men moving to vote immediately, and to vote Yes. Nobody had ever seen anything quite like it before, at all.

Publius Rutilius Rufus, looking thin and slack and careworn since the news of his Co-Consul's disastrous defeat, stood on the Rostra just behind the Tribunes of the Plebs and felt helpless, as indeed he was. His veto had no power over the Tribunes, and yet he knew that this Lex Fulcinia would unleash a monster of ire and prosecution on the Senators.

Patrician Senators stood on the Senate steps looking down in shock, as those Plebeians with the presence of mind and bravery to act--Lucius Caecilius Metellus Pontifex Maximus, Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus Pontiff, Marcus Livius Drusus Pontiff, Lucius Licinius Crassus Orator and his cousin Publius, and Marcus Antonius, among some few others--dove into the mire and tried to shout the Assembly down. It was illegal, they shouted; unprecedented, Drusus howled; shades of the Gracchi, sang Crassus Orator. The Pontiffs--all three of the Plebeian ones present and accounted for--declared that the auspices were bad, that the gods were displeased, and that the Assembly would have to meet tomorrow.

To no avail. They were bullied and shoved, and their shining and eminent bodies were thrown up by the crowd to the edges of the Well of the Comitia, there detained by men of the Third and Fourth classes. Gaius Fulcinius's fellow Tribunes decided that they liked living, and made no move to veto the motion. The masses of Plebeian Rome, the true lawmakers, and with whom ultimate power resided, showed their displeasure, and the Boni were forced to again reevaluate their stance on Catulus Caesar, who had in part caused this whole mess.

What surprised them most, however, was that most Equestrians--and these all of either the First or Second Class, of course--were all for the Lex Fulcinia, and that the vote was near-unanimous, with all the first eighteen of the thirty-five tribes voting in favor. The other tribes were clearly not needed anymore, and the assembly was disbanded, with Gaius Fulcinius wearing all the laurels.

Other Senators translated Lucullus's stony look as a reflection of their own anger and dismay; only he and Fulcinius knew the triumph that he felt today. Finally, men like Silanus and Catulus Caesar and Ahenobarbus and--oh, but how he hated to say it, somehow liking the man--Sulla would be put in their place, and not be allowed to ride high above their fellows.

Catulus Caesar took the news calmly, and as efficiently as always--no military genius, he had nonetheless been a great Quaestor, Aedile, and Urban Praetor in his time because of his skills in the administrative and legal spheres--set to organizing a defense with all of the Republic's angry--and some, of course, bruised--leading lights.

Poor Marcus Junius Silanus, so recently let off the hook, was again facing howls of ire, and once again found himself friendless. Ahenobarbus, on the other hand, was counting his lucky stars, and found more than a handful. A Senatorial court, even after Catulus Caesar's defeat, might have convicted Gnaeus Domitius due to his dangerous behavior; the Equestrians, no matter what events transpired, were his best friends. His cavalier attitude, plundering of Numidia, and acquisition of enormous amounts of grain helped in that respect, as did the antagonism of the archconservatives, the Senate, and every Pontiff against him; the enemy of the Equestrians' enemies was their friend, indeed.

Sulla too was now not too popular with the Boni, though his marriage to Caecilia Sullana and his much more legal campaign tended to alleviate matters. He was also very popular with the Equestrians, as his conduct and his peace in Numidia had opened up trade between the two nations. Now again streamed dates and grain and game animals and "healing sands" from Numidia and Africa to Rome; wealthy Romans and their wives were grateful--though some wives due to other aspects of Sulla, which were now in Rome along with the rest of his body.

Husband to another Caecilia--this one Balearica, daughter of Lucius Pontifex Maximus's cousin--was one Titus Pomponius, and clear leader of those Equestrians opposed to the Senate. He and Scaurus and the Caecilii Metelli had been thick as thieves before Catulus Caesar's debacle; now, with clients' failed enterprises and dead sons and his own pride to think of, Titus Pomponius turned staunchly against them, and turned to the New Men and radicals like Gaius Fulcinius for comfort.

Now things were reaching a boiling point, and the elections--sure to be nasty this year--were just around the corner; yet, all of Rome could turn out to see the Supplicia Canum. Pointless, thought Sulla, who detested things that were pointless. Being a Senator he followed the procession solemnly, seeing the people of the Fifth Classes and Head Count running around and celebrating with abandon, and wishing at times that he could be one of them again, despite his heritage.

He watched as the hooded, living dogs, twisted and whining and barking in pain and stress on their crosses, were paraded around the Circus Maximus and to the Temples of Juventas and Summanus. During the Gallic Siege of Rome--after the disastrous Battle of the Allia in 363 AVC--the fortress on the Capitol Mount had only been saved from sneaky infiltration by the Gauls due to the hissing and cackling of the sacred geese of Juno, who were today dressed in funny little gold-bordered purple cloaklets. The guard dogs that were posted for that purpose had failed Rome. From that year forth some of the dogs--both strays and loyal pets alike--residing in Rome were caught or offered up voluntarily by their owners as a sacrifice for the ancient betrayal.

Bound tightly hand and foot to crosses and carried around accompanied by shouts, laughter, harsh ritual music, and the ancient chants carried out in ancient singsong Latin, the dogs proceeded to the temples, and there were killed by the Priests of Juventas and Summanus; the organs would be inspected by the haruspices who knew such things, and the future mood of the city proclaimed.

Sulla, along with most of the watchers, turned away at this display and began to go home; the haruspices always predicted good, and yet every year brought a new crisis, and a new idiot defeat. As he turned Sulla caught sight of the Flamen Dialis Lucius Cornelius Merula next to him, and saw him making ready to speak. Resigning himself to boredom all the way home--for the Flamen Dialis's peculiar office and its duties had made him somewhat crazy--Sulla at first didn't notice the casual-looking dog that darted out of the alley behind Merula.

A survivor, Sulla thought after noticing the dog. Old scars from fights with other dogs and stones thrown by cruel children marred its legs and snout, but its back revealed that it had an otherwise clean and magnificent pelt. Like me, Sulla thought, for quite the first time identifying with such a lowly creature. And then it brushed against the Flamen Dialis.

Time stopped, for Sulla and for Merula and for all who had seen it. The Flamen Dialis, High Priest of Jupiter, was severely restricted; one restriction was that he must never touch a dog. It had happened, and Rome's influence with that chief of all gods would plummet. A woman began to wail, and the crowd moved forward, seizing the dog--who couldn't find a way out--and pummeling it with hands and feet.

Sulla took Merula by the nape--for the Flamen Dialis was also forbidden to see the act of Death, and twice sacrilegious was much worse than once--and steered him away immediately. Sulla didn't stop marching with Merula until they reached the Forum Boarium, where they both shook with fright. Half of Rome had seen the debacle; it would be all over the city by nightfall. Things boded ill for Rome.

And then Sulla burst out laughing. Lucius Cornelius Merula, silent in that strange way that his social isolation had forced upon him, said nothing. "Oh," cried Sulla, wiping his eyes and ignoring staring passers-by, "the irony kills me. A dog ruining Rome's luck on the day we punish dogs for betraying us. Oh, how Fortuna pays us Romans back for such pointless rituals!"

"Not quite so pointless, Lucius Cornelius," said Lucius Cornelius...Merula.

That only set Sulla to laughing harder. "Oh what do you know, you creep? Ugh, positively slimy!" Merula would beg to differ, and many others would have countered--had they not been to ill-at-ease--that Sulla was the true creep, unsettling eyes and albino complexion and all. But he didn't wait to hear Merula's undaunted imprecations; he was already dancing his way home to make sweet frantic love to Caecilia Sullana, which was to be the fourteenth time in the 83 hours since his return.


The events of the Supplicia Canum set all Rome a-shivering; even Sulla, on further reflection, feared. Not for Rome; for all his genuine piety and belief in the gods of his forefathers, Sulla had no trust in the organized mumbo-jumbo and arbitrary rules. No, Sulla feared because he'd identified with the dog, and the dog had been beaten to death--as he'd had it later from Publius Rutilius who, as Consul--and the only Consul who wouldn't have been mauled by a crowd of Third- and Fourth-Class citizens--had officiated, and been on-hand to see it occur. Not a good omen for Sulla, to tie his Fortuna to some mangy cur--or so his memory now told him that the dog had been.

The events convinced the Equestrians and New Men--many of whom had not long ago been country bumpkins, and believed everything any dour man in a religious cloak told them--that the Old Order was crumbling. The elections came, and the Boni learned just how much their support for well-bred incompetence had cost them. For, had they gone against Catulus Caesar after the defeat, they would have appeared more sympathetic and logical to the Roman people. That they were not inevitably influenced the elections.

The Tribal Assembly, well-attended because it was the most populist of the assemblies, voted so radically that the aristocrats of the tribes who had drawn tiles to vote later in the day didn't even bother to wait in line. That they'd called all their rural clients in to influence this tough vote didn't matter--the Pomponian Equestrians had called in so many more that they easily carried the day. The top polling Quaestor was Lucius Appuleius Saturninus, a New Man from Picenum, and who had a good business mind about him. Also Quaestor--and what a surprise!--was the relatively unknown Gaius Valerius Flaccus, an unambitious man from an unambitious--in this generation--family; the only noble name of the lot, the rumor of course went around that he'd become some grand Equestrian's client in order to be elected. Most deemed this a lie, and the deception beneath Gaius Valerius's intelligence. A given conclusion given the circumstances, it was still a huge disappointment to the Servilii Caepiones--and even the Boni, despite their disapproval of Quintus Servilius Caepio's friend and ally Gnaeus Ahenobarbus--that Gnaeus Servilius Caepio (Quintus Caepio's younger brother) didn't get in at all, against a dozen unknown names.

The aristocrats fared no better in the Plebeian Assembly, and that was to be expected. The Plebeian Assembly had near-unanimously voted in Fulcinius's law transferring trials completely to the Equestrians, and now it gave Fulcinius a second term as Tribune--and, with the most votes, Presidency of the College to boot--which was not unheard-of, but deemed dangerous. After all, it was what both Tiberius and Gaius Gracchus had done. Another promising Tribune was Gaius Servilius Glaucia--a Plebeian Servilius, and a friend of the Grain Quaestor Saturninus's--who had acquitted himself well as Praetor in 645 AVC, and had returned to Rome from governing Hispania Citerior a few weeks ago to find scant time to canvass support, and the great Equestrians with their Consular candidates already ready. So he had resolved to wait a year, and let his success and maturity get him elected Tribune of the Plebs, to make a splash and find support for the Consulship.

The results of the Centuriate elections were the most surprising. This Assembly was graded by Class; the First (property) Class--the Senate; and many knights of the Ordo Equester who didn't have the age or the inclination, or had too many tangible business ventures, to enter the Senate--held a scant thousand men, and 20% of the vote. The next, Second, class--all Equestrians, as every man qualifying for the Second class was by default a knight--held about five thousand men, and 20% of the vote. So it went through to the Fifth Class--manual laborers and struggling craftsmen who paid rent and owned only perhaps one or two slaves--who numbered maybe 800,000, and held 20% of the vote. Being so aristocratic, no New Men or knights were dismayed when the first 20% of the votes for Praetor went to Senatorial shills. The fun came when the other Classes, sheer from Fifth to Second, united to elect the honorable Spurius Dellius as Urban Praetor, along with Lucius Valerius Flaccus, the very brother of Quaestor Gaius Flaccus. Had the whole family whored itself out? the Boni sneered. Not a single one of their august candidates got in.

And so they feared, for the Consulship came next. Presenting a unified front, the entire Senate put up only Caepio Senior and Lucius Pontifex Maximus; no other aristocratic candidates ran for the Consulship. They hoped that these noble and capable names would have the Equestrians seeing reason. But Titus Pomponius said no, and Titus Bruttius--a client of his! It was unheard-of that a Consul should not be his own man!--and the intelligent, ambitious Lucius Vettius got in easily.

"This year," said Sulla, reclining on the couch and having dinner with his wife and his best friend, and grinning, "will be a disaster for the Senate!"

"I quite agree," said Publius Rutilius, looking even more careworn after the incident of the "Dialis and the Dog". Daily and nightly offerings to Jupiter Optimus Maximus in shame and for appeasement gave him next to no sleep, and these elections, though humorous, worried him. "I quite agree," he repeated, frowning, "but I cannot share your amusement. It's ironic, sure; it's unprecedented, sure; it's even unique, sure. And yet, it's an abomination of the mos maiorum, the traditions that guide Rome! Two New Men Consuls? Incompetents--and I say that truthfully, Lucius Cornelius!--elected Quaestor in lieu of the quiet intelligence that is Gnaeus Servilius Caepio--never mind his brother's idiocy. I say!"

Which set Sulla to laughing harder, and had Caecilia Sullana looking embarrassed. She adored Sulla, but had to endure her beloved "Uncle" Publius's discomfort. "Oh come dear," she reached across the table to touch Sulla's hand, with which he'd reached to pluck a grape. "It's dreadful."

Sulla snatched his hand away and the laughter died instantly. "Oh, of course it's dreadful! Who knows what'll happen when Gaius Fulcinius's court starts up, and he's only just begun legislating, I guarantee it! Why else run for a second term?"

"It irks me," said Rufus, "that there'll be nobody to contain him. No vetoes at all, all the Tribunes allied to him." He shook his head. "Unprecedented, that the Tribunes are all in ideological accord."

"Unprecedented, yes, friend; but also deserved!" Sulla's eyes widened for emphasis. "The way the Boni--or whatever they were called back then--have behaved since Gaius Gracchus's death! Well, I experienced it all, and I can tell you that, in hindsight, this is no surprise. Forty thousand men dead in a day, and you call that governing? I'm surprised they didn't elect a shepherd; he would have much more experience in leadership than Catulus Caesar and Silanus combined," Sulla sneered.

"I quite agree," said Rufus, finally summoning a smile. "Oh, shame that he took that command from me! I wouldn't have lost that army. Oh, why did I have to be JUNIOR Consul?"

Sulla spread his arms in wonder. "Why didn't Catulus Caesar fall on his own sword in disgrace? Such are the disappointments of life, my friend."
 
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tuareg109

Banned
FOR WANT OF THE HAMMER

CLAMORS PART 3, 646 AVC​

Ah, but it had been a great campaign!

Gnaeus Pompeius--known as Strabo for his radically crossed eyes--had gotten used to seeing blood and guts, torturing small animals in the woods on his father's estates in Picenum (and getting beaten for it), and then moving on to the occasional slave after reaching manhood. He'd go out hunting in the foothills of the Apennines with several slaves--three or four good, dependable, shut-mouthed and obedient men, and the naive, eager-to-please victim. The three or four held down the new man while Gnaeus Pompeius beat and cut and flayed. He soon found out which slaves enjoyed the torture as much as he did, and selected them often; they, along with him, exalted in the power they could hold over another, and the fantasy that the one they tortured was one of the torturers of their lives.

For the helper slaves this meant some cruel and sadistic master--as Gnaeus Pompeius Strabo was, but at least not to them--or child rapist from those far-off and painful days of childhood; for Pompey Strabo this meant his elder brother Sextus, and other children all over Picenum, calling him Strabo and kicking him around. Then they were those high-brows in the Senate, calling him a barbarian brute and a Gaul.

Well, he would show them!

Ah, and it was a great campaign! How Sulla had given him everything he'd wanted! Gnaeus Pompeius reclined in the dining room of his house--a veritable palace, on the Senatorial Palatine Hill--and said, "Ah, but it's a shame about Catulus Caesar. Not that I care that he's going down, mind! Now our legions are off in Gallia Provincia, with the newly-elected Tribunes, and no more spoils for us."

With him were two other Tribunes who'd served with Sulla in Numidia in the past year: his good friend Gnaeus Octavius Ruso, and the rather sycophantic Publius Rutilius Lupus--"Very distant cousin to me," Rutilius Rufus the Consul was always quick to point out.

"Mmm," said Gnaeus Octavius, who detested Strabo's sadism, but enjoyed his company and his cunning immensely. "I hope he goes down. Uncomfortable exile in Hispania or perhaps Hyberborea, preferably."

Lupus tittered, which earned him an amused look of contempt from Strabo--not that he knew it! Strabo's eyes were so crossed that he always seemed to be studying his nose with the utmost interest; Lupus continued to titter until Strabo growled, "It was nothing so funny, you idiot."

The titters stopped and Ruso said, grinning, "What was a real shame is your cousin, Lucius Lucilius."

Strabo frowned. "I always was fond of him. Figures, doesn't it, that Catulus Caesar's blood brother Gaius Julius Caesar escaped unscathed, and that my dear unknown cousin died so horribly--drowned under Germans."

"Cinna, too," Lupus contributed, working to be respected again. "Lucius Cornelius Cinna was a good man to know."

"Another stuck-up patrician," Strabo scoffed, shaking his head. "No, I'm surprised he wasn't hiding behind Catulus Caesar's skirts. Well, he must've been a brave man though, I'll give you that. The only man there who had any guts was Quintus Caecilius, and that's because his father had guts. He didn't let us loose--much--but he sure as hell knew how to organize a campaign."

Lupus's face had fallen again; Ruso grinned wider and said, "Well, and he had the balls to ride along the barbarian-covered Alps alone, and all to break the news to us before Catulus Caesar could tell his own story. Brave man."

Strabo nodded. "And now Catulus Caesar can be prosecuted. And idiots like Scipio Nasica and Drusus have the gall to call Metellus a traitor! It's Catulus Caesar is a traitor, and Catulus Caesar will be convicted! Oh, but I'm glad that we have Gaius Fulcinius!"

Ruso cried out, "Ah, but wait! How can Catulus Caesar be prosecuted next year if he's going to govern a province? Damn it, by the year after next Gaius Fulcinius will have moved on, and there'll be a Tribune to veto the prosecution. Damn the Senate!" Ruso cursed the august body he aspired to.

Then out leapt that deceitful cunning that caused Ruso's admiration for Gnaeus Pompeius Strabo; that mind that could see through the twists and turns of evil and amoral possibilities had solved Gaius Fulcinius's problem. Judging himself to be in safe company, Strabo grinned and said, "Oh, but how wrong you are, Gnaeus Octavius! You see, I knew that Gaius Fulcinius would think the same thing, and be beating his own brains out thinking of a solution. So I went to see him, the very day that the news was announced, and I let him know my...plan." Pompey Strabo smiled wickedly, showing his yellow teeth.

Publius Rutilius Lupus, fascinated by Strabo's contact with such an influential man, said, "Do go on, Gnaeus Pompeius. What happened next?"

"Ah, well, I gave Gaius Fulcinius the great idea. Where does all power in Rome stem from, Quirites?" Strabo used the term "Citizen" to remind them that they should know this already.

Ruso let Lupus have the first turn; that unfortunate young man said, "Money? The Senate?"

Ruso snickered at this lack of knowledge. Having let Lupus have his unsuccessful double-turn, Ruso countered, "The People, of course."

"Correct!" bellowed Strabo. "Money sure helps, and the Senate discusses things and hands down suggestions; the great thing about suggestions, my men, is that they can be safely shat on! It's the People, the Plebs in their--well, our--Assembly. So the Senate's sent Catulus Caesar to govern Macedonia--which will probably keep him tied up for almost a decade, by the way! Ample time to let people forget! But what is this, my men? Why, it's just a suggestion! A suggestion that the Plebs always accept without argument."

Ruso was getting a wicked gleam in his eye, and even Lupus understood, albeit less enthusiastically. Strabo continued, "Now that Gaius Fulcinius has the entire legislative branch of the Republic wrapped around his finger, he'll draft a law--a law giving Catulus Caesar's province to another man! And on midnight on the early morning of January 1st, in just about four months, Catulus Caesar's imperium will be gone. He'll have to go into self-imposed exile, or face prosecution."

"Brilliant," said Ruso, adulation plain upon his face.

"Unique," said Lupus, still troubled.

"Excellent," hissed Gnaeus Pompeius, rubbing his hands together in ecstasy at being the center of such attention.


Sorry that it's only a mini-update :(
 
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tuareg109

Banned
FOR WANT OF THE HAMMER

ROMA ET ITALIA PART 5, 646 AVC​

As warm spring had arrived early at the beginning of the year, so did the warm end of summer linger into October. All of Rome sat in hushed apprehension, for today was the first day that a trial would be conducted in the way prescribed by the Plebs in the Lex Fulcinia de iudicio. Because the law only affected the composition of the jury and not the trial process, everything proceeded as usual.

Marcus Junius Silanus was ushered onto the rostra with stern words of support from Marcus Aemilius Scaurus Princeps Senatus, who joined his rest of Marcus Junius's defense: Lucius Pontifex Maximus, Marcus Livius Drusus, Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus Pontiff, and that desiccated ancient Quintus Mucius Scaevola Augur--who had been a Military Tribune at the 56 year-old Scaurus's birth. That this had been Marcus Junius's slated prosecution not five months ago was tensely ignored by the Senate, and much-discussed by Fulcinius and the People in the Forum, and by Romans everywhere in general. Another irony was the fact that Catulus Caesar, for reasons of balance and aesthetics, had elected to speak in defense of Silanus; just now, of course, that would be considered suicide to Silanus's defense. Any mention of Catulus Caesar's name in positive connection with Silanus's would earn a swift conviction.

And so the trial began. The Leader of the Senate, the Chief Bridge-Builder between Romans and the Gods, two Pontiffs, and a man widely known as "Orator" prepared to speak against...Gaius Fulcinius. Alone. Such was Gaius Fulcinius's influence, enthusiasm, and confidence that he alone would speak against these august men.

Marcus Aemilius Scaurus's bald old mind took Fulcinius's strategy apart immediately, and turned to hiss to the others. "Only one of us must speak!"

Knowing that their Princeps Senatus never did a thing without reason, they waited until the Pontifex Maximus said, "Why?" This wasn't an incredulous or pleading "why", it was simply a question.

"I've seen how Gaius Fulcinius works. Not two months ago almost every single Equestrian voted for very radical and reformist candidates, and I'm willing to bet that they're still of the same mind. Gaius Fulcinius will look small against the five of us: A Tribune of the Plebs against five of Rome's greatest men. But don't you see that that'll work in his favor? Our people love nothing more than an underdog, and these Knights gathered today to vote will see us as an extension of Senatorial privileges and corruption--their words, not mine!" he added that last bit angrily at stormy looks from Marcus Livius Drusus and Scaevola Augur. Lucius Pontifex Maximus and Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus Pontiff looked thoughtful, and nodded. Scaurus plowed on, "So it will look as if the entire Senate is ganging up on poor Gaius Fulcinius--just look at him, he looks like a puppy!--and he'll just ooze helplessness. At which point the Equestrians will vote his way unanimously. Only one of us should speak."

"But who?" asked Lucius Caecilius Metellus Pontifex Maximus unprompted; now apprised of the situation, nobody actually wanted to speak. Who would speak alone and likely be humiliated by Gaius Fulcinius? For they had all rather lost hope in the venture of defending Marcus Junius Silanus in the current political climate. Well, at least there was more hope for Catulus Caeser, despite the greater magnitude of his loss and--as Scaurus, Metellus, and Scaevola thought--idiocy.

"No offense, but Lucius Domitius, you are too young; as for you, Quintus Mucius, you are too old." Both men nodded wryly, and Scaurus continued, "I am a patrician, and Princeps Senatus; being the embodiment of the august body that they both hate and desire to be a part of will not help me. Marcus Livius and Lucius Caecilius are both noble plebeians, known as being rather conservative, and similar in looks and--" here Scaurus grimaced "--popularity." They all grimaced. Popularity was sorely wanting among the Senators these days, and most were the victims of occasional hisses and shouted insults as they went about their business.

Marcus Livius Drusus, thinking ahead and viewing the defense of Marcus Junius as not too healthy for his career and--much more importantly--that of his son, conjured up a great excuse as to why Lucius Caecilius should speak. "I accede to you, Lucius Caecilius; as Pontifex Maximus, you definitely have more sway and authority than I do. After all, I am as of now a privatus, whereas you are still employed by the State and the People."

Lucius Caecilius said, in a voice that dripped irony, "Why thank you, Marcus Livius. How thoughtful."

Scaurus couldn't resist one quick chuckle. With Marcus Livius's usually stony eyes dancing, Scaurus said, "Oh off with you all, damn you. In fact, no, come back! Let's transfer all of our arguments and ideas to Lucius Caecilius."

As they conferred, so did Gaius Fulcinius confer--but with himself only. A man of considerable intelligence, Gaius Fulcinius hadn't needed any notes--notes that could slip into the wrong hands and give away his entire speech. No, he had it all within himself, and was confident that he would win. He could see Lucius Licinius Lucullus watching him from off to the side of the crowd, smiling stonily. Oh, he'd get his conviction all right.

Seeing Gaius Fulcinius at peace, with a blissful air about him; and the Pontifex Maximus standing like stone, having long ago learned that fidgeting and anxiousness were unbecoming in any sphere of life; the Praetor Urbanus, Marcus Antonius, finally moved forward from where he stood on the rostra and began to speak.

"Quirites," he began, speaking in that smooth, deep, reassuringly masculine and paternal voice that the gods had gifted him with, "we are here today to hear a case of maiestas treason. The man accused of the act of causing the gross loss of valuable Roman life through carelessness and ineptitude is Marcus Junius Silanus, son of Decimus Junius Silanus. Speaking for his honor is Lucius Caecilius Metellus Dalmaticus Pontifex Maximus, son of Lucius Caecilius Metellus Calvus. Speaking against Marcus Junius is this year's Tribune of the Plebs Gaius Fulcinius, son of Gaius Fulcinius. I have put it plainly, Quirites. Now we will hear the defense." That over with, Marcus Antonius stepped back to sit in his curule chair, face a calm mask. That he was on the edge of becoming one of the Boni, and that he detested Gaius Fulcinius's tactics and legislation, were well known; however, it had been said before and would be said for decades to come: If you want a job done--and done right, and done fairly, and done professionally--then you'd do best to send for Marcus Antonius. So Marcus Antonius removed himself most surgically from the situation, and looked on as the Praetor, and not as the Man.

Sulla, watching, thought, Ah, he'll be an Orator yet.

Lucius Caecilius Metellus stepped up to the edge of the rostra and looked down into the Well of the Comitia, where the fifty-man jury sat stiffly, seemingly grinning and sneering at him. This would not be easy, but Lucius Caecilius was Pontifex Maximus, and veteran of a Consulship, several military campaigns--as both leader and legate--and other magistracies, governorships, special commissions, and foreign embassies; he would not be cowed easily at all.

He began in his plain, appealing voice: "Citizens of Rome, the case today is, as you've heard just now from our esteemed Praetor Urbanus, to decide whether Marcus Junius Silanus is guilty of carelessness in the unfortunate loss of his army. And indeed, we will dissect that word! Unfortunate. Un-Fortunate. Not Fortunate. Truly Fortuna abandoned Marcus Junius in his most dire moment of need.

"I, as Pontifex Maximus, know more about the Gods than any Roman. I know our ancient contracts with them, and I know their workings. It is no lack of care or ineptitude on Marcus Junius's part that resulted in the grievous loss. It was Fortuna's machinations, and the place that she found for Marcus Junius at that moment.

"The dust choking a soldier, the tiredness of fighting limbs, the cunning of the German barbarians; these are all Fortuna's doings! Marcus Junius's army was well-rested and camped behind solid good Roman walls; they had no lack of food and potable water. The men were happy and in high fettle; indeed, they were looking forward to a campaign ejecting bloodthirsty reavers and rapists and rabid beasts from the lands of Rome and her Allies.

"So what happened? The cares that Marcus Junius took were not simply adequate, they were painstakingly and diligently observed! Nor can he be accused of ineptitude, for he has served in his campaigns; from Numantia to Asia to Macedonia to Africa, he has served our Res Publica as bravely as Scipio Aemilianus, as creatively as Quintus Fabius Maximus Cunctator, as decisively as Scipio Africanus.

"His is a line, Quirites, that stretches back into the bright old days of our Republic, when men were men and not critical of their noble fellows! Indeed, his many-times Great and great-grandfather Lucius Junius Brutus was the very first senior Consul, and ejected the Etruscan kings from Rome. His is a line that has shared all of this city's fortunes; both good and evil, healthy and ill, triumphant and desultory, the Junii have seen it all.

"To conclude, was Quintus Fabius Maximus deprived of his citizenship when his grand strategy was to let Hannibal ravage Italy? No! Was Publius Cornelius Scipio, father of Scipio Africanus, abused and derided by his fellow Romans after the losses at Ticinus and Trebia? No! Was Gaius Terentius Varro, commander at the Battle of Cannae, during which SIXTY thousand Roman and Allied troops died, given a cold and heartless homecoming? No!

"These three men, and many others, are examples of Roman men whom Fortuna temporarily abandoned. Whether it was due to the State's possibly radical or sacrilegious behavior at the time, or whether it was a Priest's lack of attention to his prayers and duties, or whether it is simply one of Fortuna's whims, to favor one man over another, we shall never know.

"One thing I know, Citizens of Rome, is that Marcus Junius Silanus is innocent of any wrongdoing."

He stepped back smoothly, to thunderous applause from the Senate and its clients--which meant that the noise sounded rather small and futile against the backdrop of thousands of quiet--either angry, or intrigued, or simply unconvinced--men.

Marcus Antonius stood smoothly. "We shall now hear the Prosecutor, Gaius Fulcinius." Before Marcus Antonius could be seated, thunderous applause began from both the voting Equestrians, and the gathered watchers. These were men from the Head Count clear through to the Second Class, and most of them loved Gaius Fulcinius, and anticipated a good year ahead of them. Marcus Antonius and Lucius Caecilius frowned together, as the one took his seat and the other stood in the background.

Gaius Fulcinius stepped forward with his puppy-look, and the crowd sighed.

"That's it," said Marcus Aemilius Scaurus, turning. "We've lost. I'm going home." Despite having such influence, and usually having a retinue of hangers-on and admirers in public, no man moved to follow Scaurus. This novelty in and of itself convinced him to stay and hear the speech of Gaius Fulcinius.

"I will speak more plainly than even the Conscript Father Marcus Aemilius Scaurus," Gaius Fulcinius began, and Scaurus gaped at this usurpation of his name. Scaurus was indeed known for talking plainly; mellowly, fluidly, but plainly. He was no Orator. And so Gaius Fulcinius, an Orator, would steal his style, and they would all listen far more closely, for a Gaius Fulcinius speaking plainly was a rare sight indeed. And that was Gaius Fulcinius's trick. And it was a good one!

"Marcus Junius Silanus is an inept idiot, Quirites. His men choked on dust because the battlefield he chose was a field of dirt. Not two miles away, upon which the Germans camped--two days after Marcus Junius's arrival!--stood a stout, solid hill from which one could see for twenty miles around. His men tired, Quirites, because they were attacking uphill, as only an idiot would attack. The sons of Rome and Italy are not idiots, fellow Romans; their commander was. As for German cunning! A commander of any people worth his mettle would be suspicious of such a good, high, concealing hill--upon which he should have resided in any case! Thirty thousand young men--sons of yours, Quirites, and sons of your friends and your clients--died because of Marcus Junius's idiocy.

"Marcus Junius was an idiot, Marcus Junius is an idiot, and Marcus Junius will always be an idiot. His campaigns in Numantia and in Asia and in Macedonia and in Africa and in his sister's vagina aren't worth two of my short constipated shits! Friends in high places, my friends, that's how such an inept imbecile received so many commands, and was tolerated in so many campaigns. Your boys died because Marcus Junius's old dead inept ancestors matter more to the Senate than living Romans!

"His line does indeed stretch back, Quirites! It stretches back to the dark dim times when one Senator could cause such pain and suffering as was never before seen--like the Battle of Cannae, as the Defense kindly mentioned; the most disastrous battle our Res Publica has ever participated in--and not be prosecuted! In fact, we are still living in those dark days! We will live in those days, when the Patricians and those oh-so-noble Plebeians, traitors to the Plebeian cause, can wave their hands and, at a whim, cause the deaths of thirty thousand and more of our boys!

"We will continue to live in those dark days, fellow Romans, until we convict Marcus Junius! Until we condemn him to exile, and cast him out of our great Roman fellowship, for deeming himself above the law, and above the Gods, and above his fellow Romans. For all that the great Lucius Junius Brutus is his ancestor, it seems as if that talent and bravery of the first Brutus's were diluted throughout the years; Marcus Junius possesses none of it!

"I conclude, Quirites, easily. I repeat: Marcus Junius was an idiot, Marcus Junius is an idiot, and Marcus Junius will always be an idiot. Unless you chain it, the terrible monster of Senatorial privileges and ineptitude will continue to haunt us, and to hunt your sons as a wild, rabid dog in the night. Thank you."

He stepped back, and there was a shocked silence. Never had Gaius Fulcinius spoken so plainly. Never had Gaius Fulcinius spoken using such vulgarity. Never had Gaius Fulcinius spoken and defied and insulted the Senate so. Never had Gaius Fulcinius spoken so well!

After those few seconds of shock, screams of adulation and encouragement erupted from all directions. The Equestrians of the jury cheered and shouted as loudly as barefoot men of the Head Count. Here was their hero! Here was a man to deliver them from the Senate's slavery! Here was Gaius Fulcinius! Such was the clamor that Catulus Caesar, safe behind high walls in his house on the Palatine, heard it.

Scaurus and the Boni stood to the side of the rostra, faces wooden; Marcus Antonius stood red-faced and bellowing for order, gesturing for the assembled worshipers to shut up Shut Up SHUT UP! Marcus Junius Silanus stood clutching the Pontifex Maximus's arm, shivering; the Pontifex Maximus himself stood silently, with tears streaming down his cheeks. His brother's death he had taken badly, for they'd been quite attached. Yet, this defeat was all the worse. The Republic was more important to Lucius Caecilius Metellus than any family member, and here it was falling apart. Today was not a good day.


"Ah, it was brilliantly done, Publius Rutilius!" exalted Sulla to his friend two full nundinae later. Publius Rutilius being the Consul, and his colleague Catulus Caesar being incommunicado and in self-official mourning for the Republic's death, he had been quite overwhelmed with work, and hadn't even had the time to observe the trial.

Now, a full sixteen days later, he had just heard it in full from Sulla, after hearing snippets from people--both hot-mad and hot-happy--over that time period. Publius Rutilius, a natural gossip, had not thrived at all under this self-imposed isolation. It was such that the purple bags under his eyes, the droopy frown of his mouth, and the creases around his eyes and nose seemed to disappear as Sulla told the story.

"He's got them quite by the balls, doesn't he?" asked Publius Rutilius, and smiled his friendly smile.

"Gah you old dog, he has us by the balls! What he said of Silanus applies as much to you and I as it did to him. Two New Men as Consul next year and, if Gaius Fulcinius has his way--which I just bet you he will, with that puppy face and that intelligence and that oratory--New Men as Consul every year hence."

"Surely not!"

"What do you think?" Sulla's eyebrows rose; however, they--along with his skin--were so fair that it only looked as if his eyes were widening.

Dazzled by those icy eyes, Publius Rutilius closed his own and lay back upon the dining couch. "Oh what a mess. Shades of the Gracchi!"

"No, much worse," said Sulla expertly. "Gaius Fulcinius seems to have the support of every Roman citizen--minus three hundred Senators and their families. Jupiter Optimus Maximus isn't so popular."

"That's no exaggeration," said Publius Rutilius sourly. "What can we do?"

"I'm hoping he'll burn himself out," Sulla said, stretching his arms before him and sighing. "Goings-on in Rome will be of much interest to me next year, but I won't be in a position to do anything about them! The climate would be horrid for me too; a patrician Cornelius, among that crowd? Ye gods!"

Publius Rutilius gave a small smile. "I know what you're getting at, Lucius Cornelius, and of course I say yes. How could I let you suffer, when I have need of great Legates in Gallia Transalpina next year?" Rufus had been assigned the province of Gallia Provincia to govern as Proconsul next year, and he was resolved not to suffer any disasters, at the very least, while he was there. Preferably he would destroy the Germans; in practice, however, this was a daunting task.

That Publius Rutilius hadn't joined Catulus Caesar on Gaius Fulcinius's list of people to legislate against in the future was due to his obvious quality, his good and solid experience, Lucullus's expert opinion of him, and his handling of the post-disaster Consulship. An expert by now at organizing people and events, and in seeing each State crisis through to its end, Publius Rutilius was tolerated--if not quite encouraged--as governor of Gallia Transalpina.

Just then Caecilia Metella Sullana ran into the room, bouncing happily. "Oh Lucius Cornelius, Lucius Cornelius!"

Sulla started, then growled in annoyance. "What is it, wife?"

Typically she would cast her eyes down and apologize for being so forward--never for startling him; for Sulla to admit that he'd been startled was impossible. This time she grabbed him by the shoulders and said, "Oh Sulla, oh!"

"WHAT IS IT?" he roared, and reared out of his seat and wrenched himself out of her grasp, Publius Rutilius watching with interest.

That sobered her just a little, but only enough to finally say what she was so excited about. "Oh Lucius Cornelius, I'm pregnant!"
 
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