FOR WANT OF THE HAMMER

[tuareg109]

FOR WANT OF THE HAMMER

FAMILY MATTERS, 647 AVC​

The shouts and groans of pain and effort had subsided and finally died out in the past few minutes, and then women gathered in the Atrium of Lucius Cornelius Sulla waited tensely. Caecilia Metella Sullana had gone into labor earlier that day, and her friends and relatives had assembled to give their support and felicitations; when the famed doctor Athenodorus Siculus--Sulla had ordered that any superstitious witch-midwife be flogged, and that only the best man be hired--arrived, the pregnant woman had been moved to the largest sleeping cubicle, and been kept relatively comfortable by the house's female slaves and servants.

The male slaves and servants, not knowing quite what to do with themselves, had taken the day off and went out into the city to spend some coin--with the mistress's approval, of course.

The women had stayed in the Atrium and waited, speaking in monosyllables. Expecting a long vigil, they'd been surprised when Caecilia Sullana's moans of labor quietened so early; they sat or stood bolt-upright, looking at each other or toward the hall off which the sleeping cubicles were built. They were also very worried that the cries had ceased so quickly; a woman whose labor was so short either had large hips--not Caecilia Sullana, or many previous children--not Caecilia Sullana, or was quickly dying. Fearing the worst, they waited, biting their nails.

The sound, when it came, though completely natural and expected, made all of them jump a foot in the air. The hungry, angry, suffering cries of a newborn baby made the women leap; it was Marcia Regina who led the charge to the door, where she almost collided with the heavily sweating Athenodorus Siculus.

Very experienced in dealing with anxious and grieving relations, Athenodorus put his hands on Marcia's shoulders. His apparition had halted the women behind her, and he gazed at them. Marcia's daughters Julia and Julilla, Caecilia Sullana's cousin Caecilia Metella Dalmatica and aunt Caecilia Metella Calva and second cousins Caecilia Metella Balearica (Appius Claudius Pulcher's wife) and Caecilia Metella Balearia (the Vestal Virgin) and father's cousin Caecilia Metella (the wife of Scipio Nasica) and late mother Domitia's sister Domitia (aunt of the Ahenobarbus brothers) were all present. These were the daughters and wives and mothers of some of the most powerful men in Rome, and were powers in and of themselves; Athenodorus Siculus, being a practical man in a practical profession, knew more than most others how influential Roman women could be in the decisions of their menfolk.

Here he faced Rome's most influential matrons, and did not even blink; his sweat was not of nervousness, but of the heat and stress that he'd just emerged from. Taking one hand off of Marcia's shoulder, he wiped his brow and said, "No worries, noble ladies! Caecilia Metella Sullana has had a surprisingly easy labor, and did not even bleed." He held both hands up to show the truth of his statement; they were dirty with sweat and amniotic fluid--thus proving their unwashed state--but free of blood. "The child is screaming healthily, as you can hear, and free of all deformities. A Cornelia Sulla."

The women shouted and screamed jubilantly, hugging each other and bursting into ecstatic chatter. "Oh, how beautiful she'll be!" and "Oh, and such a brain will exist between those ears!" and "Oh, Lucius Cornelius will be so happy!"

This last bit was uttered by Metella Calva, and Athenodorus's ears perked up. What would Metella Calva know about Lucius Cornelius Sulla's reaction to such a specific event? Unless...oh, what Athenodorus Siculus would give to know the truth! Like all Romans, he had a healthy ear for gossip, and sexual--extramarital sexual--gossip was the best. As he thought this, he was rushing to find a clean towel, for he'd forgotten the dirtiness of his hands in his haste to reassure Marcia.

Waving the unconscious offense off, Marcia led the march into the birthing room. The house of Clitumna was designed to keep heat in or out--depending on season--and did its job well; still, birthing was a task requiring much exertion on the part of both mother and doctor, so two strong female slaves waved large fans, cooling Caecilia Sullana's sweat-soaked brow.

She was covered up modestly, still quite sweat-soaked underneath, and would require a bath in a few hours. Cornelia Sulla was bundled up beneath her robe, feeding at a covered breast.

"Well done, dear niece!" cried Metella Calva loudly, hips swishing as she strode to engulf Caecilia Sullana in a tight hug.

"Ahhh! Thank you, auntie, but I'd prefer that you not crush my baby!"

Metella Calva clucked and laughed, but backed away all the same. "She will have Sulla's hardheadedness, and your own Caecilian fortitude; no need to worry!"

Domitia Ahenobarba, who was Caecilia Sullana's aunt and Metella Calva's sister-in-law, was wife to Quintus Servilius Caepio, and experienced a curious mixture of tight and loose regulations at home. She dressed modestly and had her hair in a severe bun at all times, was accompanied by strong slaves everywhere she went, and was forbidden to flirt (all quite reasonable demands, to most Romans); other than that, she was free to spend as much money as she wanted, and to visit any other Roman noblewoman, no matter how scandalous, provided that those slaves--very loyal to her husband--tagged along. Most Roman men, if they gave their wives reign over any expenses, would bankrupt them within a week; Caepio, however, was clever enough to see that Domitia simply craved some fun and freedom, and allowed her as much as she could reasonably expect. Domitia enjoyed her life, tolerated Caepio dotingly, and reasoned that she was infinitely better off than women like Cornelia Scipionis and Livia Drusa--wife and daughter, respectively, of Marcus Livius Drusus--who sat cooped up in one house all day, all week, all year, all their lives.

So she, not quite so free--not that she wanted to be!--as Metella Calva, and yet not quite as cooped up as some of the other women present, had the most unique vantage point. "Oh, just give the little chick here! We all want to see her." A prospect that everybody present agreed with.

"Oh!" "Ah!" "Hah!" Again came the cascade of typical compliments; and yet, they were completely sincere. Little Cornelia Sulla was gaining her very pale color after ten minutes in the light; the amniotic baby's grey hue was being replaced by Sulla's own. Large eyes as dark and soulful as her mother's blinked wonderingly at the cawing, bird-like creatures surrounding her. Atop her head lay a subtle mass of curls that were a good mix of mother's and father's; a dark auburn that held the blackness of the mother's hair and the fire and sheen of the father's. She would be beautiful; that, nobody in her life doubted.

Athenodorus Siculus, reclining wearily in the Atrium, was ready to attend to any possible complications within the next few hours. Silly women and their sentiments! he thought quite happily, ecstatic that he had brought another life into the world.


About a week later, on the 14th of Iunius, Rome had a much more juicy subject to talk about. The shock of Licinia Prima's marriage-and-divorce--Repudietmatrimonium, some Forum wit had termed it, playing on the scandalously small time between divorce and marriage--had largely worn off after more than half a month, and the birth of Cornelia Sulla was not a truly irregular event--noble children were born every day, or so it seemed. The people of Rome began to realize how utterly the trials had dominated their lives, and how much scandal they had missed in the advent of Gaius Fulcinius and his prosecutions.

So all of Rome was talking about the wedding between Spurius Dellius and Julia Caesaris. He had been 30 years old when she was born! they shouted. Gaius Julius Caesar was whoring his daughter out! they raged. But what most irked them was the fact that a farm-bred New Man like Spurius Dellius could marry the stunning young patrician-on-both-sides Julia Caesaris, who was descended from Venus through Iulus--the first Julius--and his father Aeneas, Prince of Troy and leader of the Trojans to Latium. The old adage that every Julia tended to make her man happy seemed to sing true for Spurius Dellius; he shone like Apollo that day, and seemed invulnerable. They did indeed seem a godly: Both tall, she femininely fair and he just a bit darker, she gracefully slim and he moving like a panther under his toga, she with eyes gleaming like sapphires and he with his own stormy grey ones.

No matter what the social gadflies and reactionaries said--and many were the nasty things said, especially by the latter party--Spurius Dellius had done a superb job as Urban Praetor, and many, upon hearing that Julia Caesaris genuinely loved him, did not think that she could have married a better man; she tended to agree. Julia too was well-liked, though for more superficial reasons: she was a beautiful woman, and daughter of a penniless patrician family--honorable Romans tended to have a soft spot for penniless patricians.

Caecilia Sullana--recovered quickly from her birth--was in attendance (no baby in tow, for she did not wish to steal the show), along with half her brood. The uncles of Metellus Nepos (cousins of Lucius Pontifex Maximus), being an uptight and conservative lot, elected not to join the felicitations; the Pontifex Maximus himself gladly attended, reinforced by the fact that talented and popular Spurius Dellius was moving far away from Populist influences. Also attending were Metellus Nepos and his shocking new wife, who received applause from the trailing commoners and dirty looks from the virtuous wives of the First and Second Classes; Julia, for her part, treated her graciously as a sister, for she was a very accepting woman--this was to heavily influence the later relationship between their husbands.

Many other nobles were present; whether because of obligations or due to true support of the loving couple, the reasons varied. In attendance too were the year's crop of magistrates, since most were friends of Spurius Dellius's.

Lucius Appuleius Saturninus, that year's Grain Quaestor, had journeyed twenty miles from his more-or-less permanent lodgings in the Tyrrhenian Sea's port of Ostia to attend the wedding, and was standing with his friend Tribune of the Plebs Gaius Servilius Glaucia and watching the flower-strewn procession. As the married couple passed by them, Saturninus shouted his own version of the typical ribald jokes good-naturedly; the newlyweds took it with amused grace, of course, as any pair worth their mettle would.

Saturninus turned to see Glaucia's calm yellow eyes gazing on the procession with a faraway gaze. He snapped his fingers in front of Glaucia's face and said, "Dear fellow, what are you thinking about?"

A rude interruption from anybody else, it was tacitly accepted from such a good friend as Saturninus was to Glaucia. "I will be Consul next year."

"Ah!" Saturninus's ears perked up and his blue eyes gleamed. "Might you be beginning your campaign now?" Appuleius was a very Picentine nomen, and the twang of his native country sometimes seeped into Saturninus's speech--much more often than it did into Gnaeus Pompeius Strabo's, for example.

Glaucia nodded, amused. "Not might. Will." He stood on his toes and called suddenly, "Lucius Faenius!" A man slipped through the crowd and talked to him for a few moments; Saturninus stood at a respectful distance. Glaucia eventually handed the man two Sesterces and sent him on his way. "Speak of the devil," he said, sliding up to Saturninus. "The man is a client of mine, and working to spread word of my campaign."

"Ah, so by tomorrow all Rome will know of it."

"And so what? My good friend the Urban Praetor," Glaucia smiled, nodding to the backs of the newlyweds, "will be accepting candidacies beginning tomorrow."

"Might this be per your request?" asked Saturninus with a grin.

Glaucia grinned back. "I'm a crafty bastard, right? Anyway, I did well in as Praetor two years ago and in Hispania Citerior last year; my tenure as Tribune this year has been quite high-profile--Gaius Fulcinius shot all the rest of us up into the spotlight. The only things which I should thank him for, I suppose." After a few seconds of musing he concluded, "So, mine is quite a high profile. Titus Pomponius is comfortably in bed with Scaurus again, there's no outrage against the Establishment, and nobody anywhere nearing my level of renown will be running; truly, I see nobody likely to run against me and succeed."

Saturninus thought hard for a few moments, sifting through the possibilities. "No, you're right. You'll be senior Consul for sure; hopefully your colleague isn't an idiot."

"Everybody knows that Marcus Aurelius Cotta is returning from the Hispaniae--both Hispaniae, that shows how peaceful I made my own Citerior two years ago, that only one governor is needed. I'll ask him when I see him next."

"Ah, he's not a bad man. Not a bad man at all. Speaking of Aurelii, what about Marcus Aurelius Scaurus?"

"Ah," Glaucia nodded sagely. "We do tend to forget the man in light of the august and esteemed--" he said this with a bit of sarcasm "--Marcus Aemilius Scaurus having such a similar name. No, he'd drag my campaign down; he was Praetor when Spurius Postumius Albinus and Marcus Minucius Minucius were Consuls, by the numina! What is that, almost five years ago now?"

"I see your logic. He would only drag you down." The avid watchers of the ceremony--and those hoping for a feast at the end--followed the newlyweds closely, and the embarrassed Lictors deputed to the task of sweeping up flower petals began to do so; those less tied to the festivities began to wander away in pairs or trios. With them went Glaucia and Saturninus, off to Glaucia's house nearby.

The conversation continued inanely until they were safely ensconced in Glaucia's study, sipping wine and conversing. Both were well-adjusted men and enjoyed their relationship. Glaucia was of an old plebeian family that had lived in Rome since the dawn of the Republic; Saturninus was a New Man with no tether or anchor in Rome, and few ties at home in Picenum. Glaucia, nine years older than his best friend, reveled in teaching the intelligent Saturninus the ins and outs of Roman politics. Saturninus, for his part, was even more tied; his father had died when he was 5 years old, and he viewed Glaucia as the father-figure--if not quite father--he'd ever had. He was more of a mid between father and brother--and uncle, say.

It was due to this avuncular relationship that Saturninus, in the pause that came after a good long sip of wine, was able to say: "There's something I have to tell you."

His strange tone made Glaucia sit up straight. "What's on your mind?" he asked, staring intently at Saturninus.

Saturninus sat up straight as well, and looked into Glaucia's eyes. "As you know, Quintus Varius was Grain Quaestor last year and he...quite butchered the finances. There are no hints of irregularity, of course; it's just that he was a total incompetent. So I set to overhauling the books going back fifty years, out of some necessity...."

"But mostly out of curiosity," Glaucia nodded understandingly.

"Yes, I was mostly curious of what I would fine. It would have killed Quintus Varius or some other idiot; but you know me, I quite enjoyed it! The poring over mountains of figures and papers, in addition to my regular duties; it was quite a picnic." The jolly attitude was replaced by a more serious one. "And then I got to the books of two years ago."

"Gaius Memmius's Quaestorship," Glaucia said automatically, putting everything together.

"Yes," said Saturninus, head and body perfectly still. "You know where this is going. Suffice to say that hadn't that swashbuckling hero Gnaeus Domitius taken three years of grain off Jugurtha's hands, Gaius Memmius would be swimming in mountains of Treasury gold."

Glaucia whistled, "Is it truly that bad?"

"We're talking silos and warehouses all over Sicily and Ostia full of good dry grain."

Glaucia chewed that thought over for some moments, yellow eyes half-lidded in deceptively placid-looking thought. His friend and supplicant waited fixedly until he opened his mouth again. "I take it the secrecy is not...a precaution?"

"Gaius Servilius, I began to notice men trailing me in certain parts of Ostia--near those silos, I presume--and even in Rome! They follow me home and keep watch from a good, innocent distance. I sent my steward to follow one of them after their 'change of the watch', as I call it, and he followed the man to the house of Gaius Memmius!"

Glaucia hissed between his teeth. "That is serious. There's nothing that those bastards Memmius and Fimbria wouldn't do."

"Fimbria? How's he involved?"

"He was governor of Sicily last year; how else could the Sicilian silos and warehouses be safely installed and managed? I know that it's him and not some other man, because he and Gaius Memmius are thick as thieves. Also, haven't you noticed how nervous they've been?"

"Yes...ever since--" here Saturninus uttered a barking laugh, and grinned "--ever since Marcus Antonius left to govern Sicily."

"Exactly," said Glaucia. "They're afraid that he knows too much."

After a pause during which both men drank a cupful of wine, Saturninus said, "So...what should I do?"

"Go to Scaurus," said Glaucia immediately. "You know how thoroughly he looked for any evidence with which to prosecute Gaius Memmius; he'll leap at the chance to do so now. There's not a chance that the evil pair won't be convicted; a jury of Knights hates grain swindlers more than any other type of criminal. You could rape a Grain Merchant's mother and he'd rather call you his father than see a grain swindler walk free."

"Quite right," Saturninus nodded. "Now, might I wait a while before going to Scaurus, or--"

Glaucia cut him off, "Do it right away, friend. Waiting might make Scaurus suspicious, and will give Marcus Antonius--if he's discovered the plot in Sicily--time to steal a march on us, and gain the glory. He's not too remarkable as it is; however, if he's given credit for catching Memmius and Fimbria, he'll be senior Consul for sure."

Saturninus nodded; he, like all Romans, was inured to the fact that even the interests of Rome had to serve one's own self-interests.

 

[St. Just]

Good update- although "waiting would make Glaucia suspicious" should probably be some other name, considering it is Glaucia who is talking.

 

[tuareg109]

Good update- although "waiting would make Glaucia suspicious" should probably be some other name, considering it is Glaucia who is talking.

Gah, waiting would make Scaurus suspicious, of course!

Fix't

 

[tuareg109]

FOR WANT OF THE HAMMER

GRAIN IS GOOD AS GOLD, 647 AVC​

Marcus Antonius was in fact fully in a position to steal a march on Lucius Appuleius Saturninus, though not intentionally. Over the past two weeks he had lived as if in a horror story, uncovering one transgression after another. A believer in the honesty of the common people, he'd heard with anger and embarrassed disappointment Gaius Flavius Fimbria's actions as governor. Typical coward that he was, Fimbria had aimed his entertainment-related activities at those who had no chance of successful redress; typical cases included trampled fields, violated wives and daughters, murdered vengeful sons, and the like.

Knowing that he could do little but attempt to soothe the non-citizen Sicilians as best as he could--not nearly well enough, for their grievances were legitimate and the offenses painful in all ways--he also resolved to never speak to Fimbria again. Marcus Antonius, a man who belonged only to himself and who devoutly believed in the gods, was true to his word, and would remain so true.

The months had passed productively. There had been quite a few mistakes of mismanagement to fix, but all had gone well...until he'd discovered that massive grain swindle. A few account books that were too far off--for what kind of man such as Fimbria was would expect the next governor to be any different than he?--and two coerced clerks were all it took; for two weeks Marcus Antonius conducted a whirlwind tour of Sicily, and conducted several executions of those complicit in the scheme. Those involved who were Roman citizens were taken back to the governor's palace at Syracuse and held in comfortable rooms; they had to be taken back to Rome for trial. Given the amount of evidence Marcus Antonius had compiled, he had no doubt at all that they would all die before their natural time.

After the two weeks that it took him to travel along the coastal roads all the way around Sicily gathering evidence and criminals--he didn't bother venturing into the thinly-populated interior--Marcus Antonius was back in Syracuse, and immediately took the fastest ship to Ostia. It was the 5th of Iunius. The prisoners he left in the care of the clerk and now Deputy-Governor Aulus Hirtius, who Marcus Antonius trusted most out of every man in Sicily--excluding himself, that is.

He arrived in Ostia nine days after taking ship; a little sore from lack of movement but motivated by his convictions, Marcus Antonius immediately set off for the stables next to the docks. He was greeted by a wary, bony man of middle age who eyed his purple-bordered toga praetexta--the toga worn by curule magistrates, wealthier freeborn boys, ex-magistrates, and some priests--and red Senatorial shoes with a degree of mistrust; no doubt at least a few of the many Senators who required transport at Ostia had demanded a free ride of him.

Not one to await another man's pleasure, Marcus Antonius barked, "I need the fastest horse you've got; I don't care about the price."

After a pause the man said, "I have a horse. For 5,000 sesterces you can take him."

Considering Marcus Antonius's hurry, the man was not taking advantage of him at all. A healthy donkey cost 500 sesterces, and a healthy horse 1,000. If this one was truly the best of the lot--though he couldn't be too good; this was no breeder's farm, after all--then 3,000 was a fair price. "I accept," said Marcus Antonius, in no mood for argument. He explained who he was and wrote out a banknote quickly. The stable owner, still eyeing him somewhat skeptically, trusted him more now that he'd indicated that he would pay; most rich men were arrogant enough that they wouldn't have even attempted to deceive.

Marcus Antonius left settled on his calm, healthy new horse and set off to find Lucius Appuleius Saturninus. He didn't know the man that well, but he knew that the man was honest; if any other man in the Roman world had found such gross irregularities, it would be Saturninus. Conveniently--for of course the Grain Quaestor's work necessitated that he be constantly in communication with men of all kinds at the docks--the state-owned house that Saturninus had lived in was not even an eighth of a mile from the docks.

He called in and found the Deputy-Quaestor Marcus Milonius sifting bleary-eyed through tall stacks of papers; clearly, the young man had had a long, unproductive night. "Where's the Quaestor?" he barked, and the young man jumped.

"Ah! You quite startled me! You're...you're the Praetor of la--"

"The Quaestor man, get to it! Where is he?"

He spluttered for a few seconds until Marcus Antonius seemed to fill the doorway. "Oh, he's in Rome; you surprised me is all! He's gone to attend the wedding of Spurius Dellius and Julia Caesaris." He leaned forward confidentially, "That's the Julia that's Gaius Julius's elder--"

"I don't care! What ties does Lucius Appuleius have with Spurius Dellius? Is this wedding important to him?"

"Ah, none that I know of." The young man looked blank.

Marcus Antonius sighed. "Was he somehow flustered, or in a hurry, when he left here? Did he bring many papers with him to Rome?"

"Oh!" the face brightened. "Yes indeed, he took probably as many as I have on my desk here," his arm swept from left to right, indicating the mess.

Marcus Antonius nodded and turned on his heel, with Marcus Milonius calling after him, "You know, the Gaius Julius who's Catulus Caesar's blood-uncle!"

"They can all burn!" gave Marcus Antonius over his shoulder, and vaulted onto the waiting horse--he was a big man, and it was an average horse--outside without a pause in his stride. In his hurry, he didn't notice the seemingly-idle men on the docks nudge each other and run in several directions. The street running along the docks was crowded, even this early in the morning, and the going by horse was in fact slower than the going on foot; not one who enjoyed trampling innocent pedestrians, Marcus Antonius resigned himself to a wait. When he reached the stable owner's street, he heard a voice calling out.

"My lord, my lord!" It was the stable owner. "You have no saddle; in my hurry I forgot!"

Marcus Antonius slapped his own face; how could he have forgotten? Well, it was better to spend ten minutes having a saddle fitted than waste time on slower riding and readjustments on the twenty miles to Rome. He turned the horse's head and made his way through the press.

The stable master took the reigns and said, "This way, my lord." He was led back to the stables and waited on the street, leaning against a wall, as the man worked. He heard the pulls and creaks of leather, and the curses of the stable master; the man even struck the horse once--not very hard.

The morning sun rose enough to shine on Marcus Antonius's face, and it burned hotter and hotter--how long had he been standing there? With a groan he turned into the stable and barked--he was quite fond of barking, "Oh come on, do you need help from an amateur like me?"

"Please, my lord," said the stable master, who had worked himself into a sweat. "Damn saddle was made a few weeks ago; it hasn't stretched at all."

Grunting, Marcus Antonius took the heavy saddle and swung it onto the horse--quite easily, really--and felt the dagger plunge between his ribs just below the right armpit. He had enough time to use his remaining strength to swing the heavy saddle around to crack into the devious man's face. After that, all was black.


About the time that Marcus Antonius was giving the stable master his due, Lucius Appuleius Saturninus was being admitted into Marcus Aemilius Scaurus's study. He had arrived at dawn and announced himself; Scaurus, aware of the duties that one nobleman had to another, dealt with his clients more quickly than usual, and was able to see Saturninus about a summer hour after dawn.

"Lucius Appuleius," Scaurus said, standing as his guest arrived. "An unexpected and somewhat alarming visit, is this! Please sit down." With that, Scaurus sat down himself.

Under Saturninus's arm was a thick sheaf of papers and documents. Settling them onto his lap when he sat, Saturninus fixed his blue eyes on Scaurus's yellow-flecked gold ones. "Princeps Senatus," he began, addressing Scaurus in his most official capacity, "I am quite aware that my politics are not yours, and that yours are not mine; however, I do think that men of any stripe can work to hinder Rome's enemies--at home as well as abroad."

"Oh, aptly put!" Scaurus sat amused and curious, waiting for whatever was to come.

"I have here, in my lap, evidence of gross wrongdoing. A massive grain swindle a year in the making, foiled due to the intrepid Ahenobarbus--" there was no doubt as to which Ahenobarbus he meant "--and further manipulation foiled in part by my own actions. I am also sure that our Urban Praetor Spurius Dellius worked to uncover the plot, though somewhat unconsciously."

Scaurus's face had grown rather grave; manipulation of the grain prices--and therefore the risk of either an empty Treasury or a starving Head Count and Fifth Class--was, in the opinions of Scaurus and not only a few others, an offense that should be punishable by live roasting. Saturninus licked his lips and Scaurus said kindly, "Go on, Lucius Appuleius."

Saturninus nodded and continued. "I have personally found--working very quietly--several undocumented silos and warehouses that were well-sealed and protected against inspection." That hinted as to the high-born nature of the conspiracy; to be able to forbid inspection of any warehouse was something only a Praetor could do. Not even a Consul had that power, for the Praetors were the elected administrators and judges of Rome and Italy. "I have no doubt, Princeps Senatus, that you'll soon get a visit from Marcus Antonius, too; the man's no fool, and he is honest."

"Too true," said Scaurus dryly, and then cracked a grin. "Well, Lucius Appuleius, how do you know that I'm not in on the swindle?"

"You'd never think of something so original." Saturninus had went for the humorous approach.

"Ah!" laughed Scaurus, eyes twinkling. "How predictable I become in my old age! Well, who are these men who deserve to be nailed upside-down on the Temple of Ceres?"

"There are several men living in Ostia who are complicit, but the prime movers are...Gaius Memmius and Gaius Flavius Fimbria.

"Oho!" Scaurus could not help himself. He leapt to his feat and saluted Saturninus quite seriously. "Oh, my life's work is on the way at last; give me that evidence!" Gaius Memmius had, as Tribune of the Plebs in 643, expanded the Mamilian Commission which had prosecuted and in many cases successfully convicted men for "conniving with King Jugurtha of Numidia against Rome's interests"--which meant, of course, that they hadn't wanted to join Spurius Postumius Albinus's horrendously private war.

Gaius Mamilius's job had been complete, and Spurius Postumius had his war; only Gaius Memmius cared enough to continue prosecuting, for altruistic reasons. He was adamantly anti-war, though he had no qualms with political and social war; it was influence and hunger that he wanted to use to accrue grain profit. He was no Ahenobarbus; he would not go to war for grain.

Scaurus had been the man who had despised--and still despised--Gaius Memmius more than any other; for taking Scaurus's own legendary influence away, and for scaring every Roman from the Third Class up with his demagoguery. He had been touted as another Gaius Gracchus, and even today one never knew what he was planning or thinking. Well, now Scaurus knew, and it was all thanks to Lucius Appuleius Saturninus.

Saturninus handed the evidence over, and Scaurus hugged it to himself as Caecilia Sullana was hugging little Cornelius Sulla to herself at that moment. "I shall not forget your sense of duty, Lucius Appuleius."

 

[St. Just]

Hope Fimbra and Memmius get their just rewards (i.e. being crucified upside-down on the Temple of Circe).

 

[tuareg109]

Hope Fimbra and Memmius get their just rewards (i.e. being crucified upside-down on the Temple of Circe).

Dammit Massa Chief, you made me read through the whole thing again wondering how the hell I could have replaced "Ceres" with "Circe"!

 

[St. Just]

My bad- I meant Ceres

 

[Grouchio]

My bad- I meant Ceres

Or did you mean - Celes?

 

[tuareg109]

FOR WANT OF THE HAMMER

GALLIA TRANSALPINA PART 4, 647 AVC​

Lucius Cornelius Sulla was having a grand time in Aquitania. Since the Germans were in the process of safely transferring their many hundreds and thousands of warriors and women and children--the elderly and hopelessly wounded who couldn't keep up the 10 mile per day pace in the broken, mountainous country were mercifully hit over the head and buried--over the Pyrenees, Sulla had few things to worry about.

There had been a minor break in German leadership, and several of the most minor tribes--numbering perhaps 20,000 altogether--had stayed milling about in Aquitania. This was a much reduced number, but was still a large burden on the Romanized tribes of Aquitania, and an affront to the Roman sense of superiority. Luckily, Sulla had his five legions of 5,000 men each. "Enough men," Gnaeus Octavius Ruso had joked, "that even Catulus Caesar could win."

Political though he was--he had made sure to make this joke out of the hearing of Catulus Caesar's brother Gaius Julius Caesar Strabo Vopiscus--he hadn't counted on Marcus Livius Drusus's attachment to the pro-Catulan opinions of his own father; thus Sulla's senior staff turned into a bickering mire of war between Ruso and Caesar Strabo, with Drusus and Marcus Antonius Gallus attempting to maintain the peace. Sulla, for his part, announced that if he heard about the fighting again, both men would face a public flogging and militiae mutatio--delegation to inferior duties, like keeping the latrines in good repair and clearing the roads of shit and dead animals. Any general would have been well within his rights to do so no matter what, and Sulla even had a reason: such petty bickering and passive-aggressive arguing could, in Rome, successfully be argued to be unmanly acts, an all-encompassing offense technically punishable by death.

So Caesar Strabo--who knew Sulla better than Ruso--counted his lucky stars that Sulla hadn't immediately punished them both, while Ruso fumed; Drusus, who viewed Ruso as an encroacher on this adventurous campaign, was a bit put off that Sulla would punish Caesar Strabo as well. Gallus was quite tickled by the entire matter.

To give his men something to do--if they did not, stories would filter into Rome of Sulla's inaction and incompetence--and to prevent future troubles in Aquitania and Gallia Narbonensis, Sulla decided to hunt down and exterminate the 20,000 German warriors, and to enslave the women and children that were certain to be with them.

Since the Germans of these several minor tribes were scattered in bands of a few thousand at the most across the land, Sulla split up his forces. He gave one legion to Drusus and Caesar Strabo, and sent them northeast to the foothills of the Massif; the tribes there were savage, but Rome-friendly due to Gnaeus Pompeius's campaign against their rivals the Ruteni, and thus only a few German tribes ventured near there. The one legion was more than enough. Two legions Sulla dispatched to Marcus Antonius Gallus, and told him to run up the coast, all the way to Armorica if he needed to; the fishermen-Gauls of the coast had no significant fortresses and were a less warlike people, and there were quite a few Germans there due to the easier pickings. Sulla kept Ruso--for he needed to learn how that young man thought and worked--and the remaining two legions at his side, and remained just upriver of Tolosa on the Garumna, the better to keep an eye on the Germans in the Pyrenees, and to have immediate warning if they decided to turn back.

The wanderings of Marcus Antonius Gallus (blue) and Marcus Livius Drusus Junior (green). Camps in mid-Iunius (Sulla's in red) are squares at the end of wandering trails​

He'd been in constant communication with the two men, and both were doing rather well. The Gauls tolerated their presence--so long as they paid for food along the way--and the only trouble was a bit that Marcus Antonius Gallus had dropped into. Moving back down to the Garumna to complete his circuit, Gallus had been travelling through the lands of the Nitiobroges when a unified band of about 15,000 German warriors who had decided to carve out their own country in Gaul had caught him at a disadvantage.

Having 9,000 men with him, but with the Germans on the highest hilltop for miles around, Gallus had rushed downriver...and was followed. A hurried pursuit followed during with the German forces were stretched out over several miles due to indiscipline; the fastest and most eager men danced ahead, eyes only on the Romans, while the older and slower men lagged behind. The Romans jogged along in perfect formation, easily trusting Marcus Antonius Gallus with their lives. The pursuit, having begun near dawn, continued into the afternoon with a crossing of the Oltis River--lucky that Gallus had happened upon a bridge!--that startled the Nitiobroges.

Shaking themselves of wonder that close to 25,000 foreign warriors had rushed through their village of 300, the men of Cividorum sent the fastest riders all about the countryside, and soon a force of 3,000 Nitiobrigian cavalry were following the German column at a respectful distance, waiting to see how it would play out.

By mid-afternoon, with his men tiring ever so slightly, Gallus decided to push his advantage of organization, and halted on a lightly-wooded hill almost exactly halfway between the Oltis and Duranius rivers. Forming his twenty cohorts in a shallow arc that bristled on the top of the hill, Gallus waited. The foremost Germans, not even looking back to see how far their friends were, ran into the Roman ranks; the slaughter had begun.

The middle-Germans saw what was taking place, and decided to call a halt near the hill's bottom, to regather their breath and regroup. Unfortunately, the men in front were too frenzied to listen, and those lagging behind became demoralized; they had never warred like this--reorganize?--before. They didn't realize that they'd also always had a gross advantage in numbers in previous battles. The Germans, eyes on the Roman hill above, also didn't notice the quiet Nitiobrigians behind. Gallus, however, did, and signaled a joint attack. The Gallic answer was the beginning of a charge.

The Romans ran down the slope to join the fight, and the Germans finally saw--and heard, and felt through the ground!--the mass of Nitiobrigian horses and warriors. They had no time to run, and in any case would have been chased down had they done so; they prayed to their gods in those last moments, and were then beset on both sides by vengeful spirits.

The Battle of King Nitiogastus, 647 AVC. Twenty Roman cohorts under Marcus Antonius Gallus in red; 15,000 disorganized Germans in black; 3,000 Nitiobrigian cavalry under King Nitiogastus in blue​

In the end 513 Romans were counted dead, ten Gallic horsemen were dead, and nearly 15,000 Germans were slaughtered. Of the Gauls dead, one had been killed by a Roman; to preserve peace and because his own men despised the idiot, Marcus Antonius decided to execute him. Three hundred and thirteen Germans were taken prisoner by Marcus Antonius, who took 150 for his own side, and gave 163 to King Nitiogastus--in honor of whom the battle had been named--of the Nitiobroges as a gift, and to further atone for their warrior's unjust death; the Gauls took their gift gladly, and the 150 Roman-owned slaves were taken under guard of two cohorts (1000 men) to Sulla, along with news of the victory.

In one fell swoop, forces under Sulla's command had killed about 75% of the Germans north of the Pyrenees; Sulla himself wrote a letter to Publius Rutilius Rufus requesting that the nation of the Nitiobroges be given a Treaty of Peace and Friendship, and then went ahead and authorized Gallus to do it preemptively, for he knew that Rufus would not object. Gallus did this and then journeyed up to keep peace around Burdigala while Drusus, hearing of the battle, turned abruptly west to make sure that there were no stragglers.

Sulla, quite happy, received a letter that did much to maintain his aura of generosity; it was dated the 10th of Iunius, and arrived on the 21st.

Dear nephew,

I now have a great-niece, and you a daughter! Quite excellent news. Caecilia is doing well, and did not bleed at all during the labor; she is ecstatic, and of course has the support and love of all Rome--so it seems to me, at least! Cornelia Sulla's eyes are large and black and beautiful, like her mother's, while her hair is--or so all the admirers say--the perfect mix between your own white-gold-red and my niece's dark, dark brown. Yes, Lucius Cornelius, many massively important men will be suing for her hand in seventeen years' time--and not only for her father's success!

Other, less savory news is on the way--not in any way related to you or yours, of course! It is by now general knowledge in Rome that that old Gaius Julius Caesar who is Quintus Lutatius's uncle and a wise backbencher has been associating quite closely with--though no one can say why!--the Urban Praetor Spurius Dellius! Why such an august nobleman should dine every night with a New Man who had been Gaius Fulcinius's minion was beyond me...until I learned that Dellius is to marry Caesar's daughter!

She is the elder daughter, of course--Dellius wanted as small an age difference as possible, and so settled with thirty years instead of thirty-two! I ask you, Lucius Cornelius, what Rome is coming to when a girl is forced to marry a man old enough to be her father! Still, Dellius is moving away from Gaius Fulcinius at an increasing speed--more on why later!--and it seems to be--being the Pontifex Maximus, I naturally have to conduct the ceremony--that they generally love each other. This is no lecherous old goat paying for a weeping young girl; Spurius Dellius is a fit, caring man marrying an ecstatic and impeccable young woman. It seems as thought he fortunes of the junior branch of the Julii Caesares has turned.

Speaking of impeccable young women, my late cousin's son Quintus Nepos is newly-married to a lady who is not one! Why, then, did he marry her, I hear you ask? Well, it was after he enjoyed her favors for some two years, and behind her husband Quintus Scaevola's back! Yes, Licinia Crassa Prima has been divorced by Scaevola on grounds of adultery--and I quite agree!--and then married Nepos. Since at least one is a plebeian, I am not required by law for the ceremony; oh, if only I were, I would never be dragged to it, not by a bat-monkey out of the worst hell! Not even by you!

Ah, I jest! Surely you can see my predicament. In any case, Scaevola found out because of that hothead Nepos's refusal to calm down. Gaius Fulcinius strolled into the Forum nearly pale as you [there they go again! thought Sulla] and began to accuse Nepos's band of young men at the trial of Catulus Caesar of nefas. Well, that set him off! A well-placed stream of clever insults--"Your presence in Roma is nefas, you ill-bred under-bred black-backed backwoods woodcutter-cutthroat Samnite!"--delighted the crowd, and intimidated Fulcinius into running off. Well, at least his days of politicking are likely over; we can only hope, Lucius Cornelius!

Not much else has happened besides. I am no Publius Rutilius--oh, he writes me about three times as often as I do him, and with ten times less to write about!--but I shall keep you informed. I expect the same service.

Your good friend and friendly neighborhood Pontifex Maximus,
Lucius Caecilius Metellus Dalmaticus

Sulla set the letter down, chuckling at the antics of Metellus Nepos and at the clever barb. Certainly a man to court when in Rome; a quick mind and an eye for women, surely--and mountains of gold besides, and brother-in-law to the Licinii Crassi. About Spurius Dellius Sulla had a clear opinion: the man was good, useful, easy to deal with, and likely to go far. And why begrudge him marriage to a Patrician Julia? Sulla, being a Patrician Cornelius--a family almost, just almost, as august as the Julii--knew how Gaius Julius Caesar felt; whether Caecilius and Pomponius, or some fisherman or a country bumpkin, what difference was there to somebody who could trace his line back to Aeneas, or pre-Trojan kings in Latium and Etruria? This Lucius Caecilius did not yet understand.

The birth of a daughter...now that was delightful! Sulla--like the doctor Athenodorus Siculus, though neither man knew it--was positive that women could hold as much power, and much more, than men of the same social standing. All it depended on was smarts and the whims of Fortuna, who was a bisexual as equally inclined to women as to men; perhaps that was why she loved Sulla so much, because they were so alike?

Shaking that fanciful notion out of his head, he thought again. No, it would have been better to have a son first at least, to be as involved as possible in his life before death; no man ever knew for sure when his time would come, and Sulla knew that his personal influence on his son would be more important than influence on a daughter. It would secure his line, too. Lucius Cornelius Sulla was the last Sulla; when he died without a son, the sun would set on his line...forever.


Question: Nitiobrigian or Nitiobrogian?

 

[Space Oddity]

The Boni are just screaming out for their comeuppance, aren't they? It just isn't even occurring to them that a good chunk of the city is still pissed, and that all their new "support" is likely to fly away the moment things go bad for them...

 

[tuareg109]

The Boni are just screaming out for their comeuppance, aren't they? It just isn't even occurring to them that a good chunk of the city is still pissed, and that all their new "support" is likely to fly away the moment things go bad for them...

Yes, they certainly forgot very quickly that of the electoral winners for 647, only the Valerii were anything even close to noble, and the only patricians.

It seems to me (I'm only planning about 6 months ahead at most as it is; in-TL it is mid-June, and I've only planned until about September) that Sulla and Gnaeus Ahenobarbus will manage--with the help of the wiser Boni like Scaurus and Dalmaticus--to influence the younger generation to go for pure excellence over bloodline; this is evidenced by Sulla and Dalmaticus's support for Spurius Dellius, and Scaurus and Dalmaticus's eventual--unfruitful--co-prosecution with Fulcinius of Catulus Caesar. But remember, it was Fulcinius's tactics that drove them back to the opposition.

The Populists will have to moderate too, and not follow such demagogues as Gaius Fulcinius.

 

[Space Oddity]

The Populists will have to moderate too, and not follow such demagogues as Gaius Fulcinius.

Well, yes, that would be the wisest course of action for all involved--but for now, you're likely see the Populists rallying around a demagogue who'll want 'to take the gloves off' so to speak in the name of righteous vengeance.

These things have a way of escalating...

 

[tuareg109]

FOR WANT OF THE HAMMER

THE FIRST GREAT GRAIN ROBBERY PART 1, 647 AVC​

The pale, lifeless body of Marcus Antonius and the prone, gurgling form of his assassin were not discovered until the early evening. It was not quite a busy season for the hiring of animals and carts--the Spring grain was planted by mid-May and began harvesting in mid-August--and the stable owner had few friends. Ostians of the neighborhood only thought something amiss when an unusual number of stray dogs began to sniff about his door, and when sounds of hungry neighing were heard from his yard.

What followed was a hasty scramble by the duumviri and Ostia's important residents to figure out what happened and to attempt to question anybody who knew the man. Several young ruffians, who usually stood by the docks and mocked old men and kicked stray curs and diced and drank altogether too much, were found to be missing; hearts pounding, the duumviri sent a rider to Rome.

Since it was almost summer and Ostia's elders had been at their frantic fact-gathering task for several hours, their moody young rider left in the middle of the night, and arrived in Rome only shortly before the break of dawn. His leader, of course, was addressed to Scaurus Princeps Senatus.

Esteemed and eminent Consular and Ex-Censor Marcus Aemilius Scaurus Princeps Senatus, [Oh, thought Scaurus, shady! Bad news, for sure]

And bad news it was indeed. Scaurus read through the letter minutely five times, breath having hitched only once at first reading that word--murdered. He then set it down lightly on his desk and stared into space, digesting the magnitude of this crime. There was no doubt in his mind that it had been Gaius Memmius and Gaius Flavius Fimbria who had perpetrated this heinous sacrilege. A curule magistrate was the very manifestation of Rome, and even outside his province was an important figure, for the gods had honored him with his office; to murder or seriously harm any man who had ever held curule office was a gross offense against the gods.

Scaurus questioned the tired young messenger who was awed at being in the presence of Rome's most important man; finding out that he knew nothing besides the urgency of his missive, Scaurus dismissed the young man, and gave him leave to eat, drink, and sleep at Scaurus's expense until the next morning. Then he sent for Lucius Appuleius Saturninus.

Saturninus, made of stern stuff but not yet completely inured to the cruelties of life, felt the tears spring to his eyes. "Oh, he was so good! He was so good, a pure Roman! Oh, Marcus Aemilius, they've taken this way too far!"

"I quite agree," said Scaurus, mouth set. He would have never dreamed that grain swindlers would turn to murder. "They were rather vigilant. Gave instructions to kill Marcus Antonius if he arrived at Ostia long before the end of his governorship."

"He might've just wanted to set up his campaign for Consul. There's no way he could have lost; and what a good Consul he would have been!"

"Hmm, and yet the duumviri write that he stopped in to see you, and was met by your Deputy. Do you two have a particularly close relationship?"

"No," said Saturninus, frowning. "We know each other on sight, but hardly ever speak. You're right, it's more likely that he had evidence of their swindle; why he should assume that I could be trusted, I don't know."

"Oh," said Scaurus wearily, pushing his palms into his eyes. "Why am I saddled with such a dreadful, messy business? I can't trust a tenth of the men I know with something like this, and even you are not suspect! How I wish I could sleep just a few more hours!" Indeed, Scaurus looked as if he had only slept two or three.

Saturninus, aware of the Princeps Senatus's fatigue, grew wary; Scaurus was no spring chicken, and any damage to his health would compromise Saturninus's venture to see the swindlers face justice, and his new quest to see revenge for the fate of Marcus Antonius. "Do not worry, Marcus Antonius. You can trust me, and I swear to you that I will not rest until Gaius Memmius and Gaius Flavius Fimbria are either a thousand miles from Rome, or ten feet under her earth!"

"A worthy oath," said Scaurus, and sighed. "Well, we can be glad of one thing. We know where we stand, whereas our two villains do not."


Three days later, Gaius Memmius and Gaius Flavius Fimbria decided to go and visit the one man they fancied could be a staunch ally in this mess. It was simply a precaution, and Fimbria was in fact slightly against meeting this man, but Memmius insisted; no matter what the atmosphere in Rome, no man could tell what another knew.

The news of Marcus Antonius's assassination had been disseminated through Rome the very day Scaurus had received his letter. There were no speeches, no meetings, no fights; there had been no need to whip the citizens of Rome into a frenzy, because the citizens of Rome became frenzied as soon as they heard. The gravest sacrilege, the only assassination of a curule magistrate in living memory, and the death of the good and well-loved Marcus Antonius; that was all that Rome knew, and that was all that Rome needed to know. Out came the togae pullae of the citizens who could afford dyed clothes, and the darkest tunics for those who could not; the black mourning togas turned what should have been the blinding scene of the white flagstones and togas of the Forum on a bright and sunny summer day into a dreary mass of black-clad figures clustered together and speaking gravely.

Not that most of Rome went to the Forum. About half of Rome stayed at home and cooked, served, washed clothes, took care of children, and did an assortment of other duties--slaves and very lowborn women; lowborn men, and the most ordinary Romans and their wives, and some of their slaves, went to the wharves and shops and various sites of employment to work; highborn women mourned in private and visited each other to gossip or grieve--as did Marcus Antonius's widow Caninia and their two sons Marcus and Gaius; highborn men and their secretaries and clerks continued their Forum functions clad in black and stifling laughs--today was no day for jokes; the lowest women of all continued to offer their services, and found that their trade did not suffer, no matter what transpired. Alone of all Romans were the poorest--the Head Count and those beggars only owning one tattered tunic--and the most august--the current curule magistrates, allowed in mourning to wear an ordinary toga instead of the magistrarial purple-bordered toga praetexta--unified in their lack of black.

So it was that, draped in black and in an atmosphere of continued disbelief, that Memmius and Fimbria went to their potential ally's house. They had set out by separate paths to the man's house. Though Memmius had caught no change in opinion from the looks and speech of Scaurus and others toward him and Fimbria, he was yet cautious; if anybody were made to know.... He shivered, for though he was not afraid of the gods, and of the despicable nature of his crime, he was afraid of being torn limb from limb by the fickle Crowd...and that, the Crowd, their potential ally knew how to use well.

Memmius arrived at the house of Gaius Fulcinius and found that Fimbria had already been admitted. He too entered, and found Fimbria in the atrium, craning his neck warily to look into the huge peristyle garden beyond. Lucullus, who hadn't visited Fulcinius in some time now, would have also been surprised; it was high summer, and though the bushes and trees and flowers of Fulcinius's garden were growing at a rapid rate, he had ordered that they not be trimmed at all.

Thin branches and creepers wound around the wooden columns, and roots grew timidly up onto the smooth stone bordering the garden, which heavy branches also overhung. The entire scene was one out of some fantasy; had Sulla been there, it would have reminded him of the thick grove of palms and date in which he had parleyed with King Jugurtha. As it was, neither of the two guests of Fulcinius's had ever been in such a climate.

Then Gaius Fulcinius rushed out at them from the trees' shadows, and both were quite startled. He looked nervous and pale, and clearly hadn't shaved in the two weeks since his debacle in the Forum against Metellus Nepos. His dark brown eyes were wide and flicked from one face to the next, then narrowed suspiciously. "Senators! What do you two want? Friends of Lucius Licinius, I bet!"

While Fimbria, baffled, wondered which Lucius Lucinius he meant, Memmius took the initiative. "Gaius Fulcinius, we've come here because we know you, by reputation and sight if not by friendship. But we do wish to be your friends. You are a good Roman, and will understand what I have to say."

A pause stretched until Fulcinius lifted his arms, annoyed. "Well, you haven't said anything yet, really! Go on with it."

"Ah, yes," said Memmius, carefully going over the words in his head. "You have surely heard of the death of the good and honest Marcus Antonius in the past few days; truly a sad business. I have discovered--and have suspected for some time--that he has evidence against certain unsavory figures...evidence pertaining to a grain swindle."

The eyes widened: Memmius had his audience's full attention. Memmius had seen the writing on the wall back during Gnaeus Ahenobarbus's trial, and knew full well what Gaius Fulcinius opinion was on grain. So long as the people of the helpless lower classes were fed, it did not matter where it came from; raiding innocent Africans or raiding the Treasury, Gaius Fulcinius would do it all when it came to the citizens who were exploited by the two upper property classes. However, there was an aspect which Gaius Fulcinius also appreciated: the higher the price of grain was, the harder it would be for the Treasury to obtain any; at a certain point, purchase became impossible.

Since Gaius Memmius had Fulcinius's measure, he knew exactly how to manipulate his thought processes; given that Fulcinius was a bit crazed by his trial loss, it shouldn't have been difficult. And it was not. "A grain swindle?"

"Yes, Gaius Fulcinius. The most heinous of acts versus our gods accompanying the most heinous of acts against the most helpless and needy people of Rome; can you imagine a more hideous combination?" Memmius's mouth drew into a pleading smile. "It is only with your help and with the help of your confederates--and I know that there are quite a few, no matter how much you deny it!--that Gaius Flavius and I can succeed against the tyrants."

"Tell me," said Gaius Fulcinius eagerly. "Tell me and by all the gods I swear that I will see justice done. They got Catulus off with trickery and violence; they will not get away so painlessly this time!"

Memmius's smile widened. Quite a pliable fellow, when one got down to it. "It is--and this will not surprise you--the doing of Scaurus and this year's Grain Quaestor Lucius Appuleius Saturninus. If you'll remember, Scaurus accused me--Me! Honest old me, friend of Marcus Antonius!--of manipulating grain prices during my own Quaestorship; well, he found no evidence, trickery or otherwise! That alone, that a man so eager to see me exiled as Scaurus could find no evidence, vindicates me. He hates me so because of my expansion of the Mamilian Commission; oh, how I bet now that Scaurus was in Jugurtha's pay! No matter, to go on: Scaurus and Saturninus have been manipulating the prices since at least last year--we believe that Quintus Varius is complicit with them as well--and that Marcus Antonius found out. He arrived in Ostia, was unwise enough to open his mouth and--" Memmius drew his thumb across his throat "--that's that."

Gaius Fulcinius's mouth was slightly open in wonder. "I knew that they were vile and venal...and evil. But that they would stoop so low...well, Marcus Antonius trusted you. He was your friend, and I am your friend. He was not of Scaurus's brood, and I can see now that he was killed for expediency." He reached out his arm, which was clasped heartily by Memmius. "I am with you, Gaius Memmius. Let us destroy this establishment."

 

[tuareg109]

NOTE: I is a idiot, must change some thingees.

Marcus Aurelius Cotta's governorship was of the Hispaniae, not of Asia. I will have to go back and change this.

 

[St. Just]

Good update. Still waiting to see who Aurelia Cotta marries.

 

[tuareg109]

Good update. Still waiting to see who Aurelia Cotta marries.

This is about the 20th time I've said this:

You'll see



(Big Shit Eating Grin!)

 

[tuareg109]

FOR WANT OF THE HAMMER

THE FIRST GREAT GRAIN ROBBERY PART 2, 647 AVC​

On the day that Sulla received his letter from the Pontifex Maximus, and three days after Fulcinius's visit by Memmius and Fimbria, Marcus Aemilius Scaurus Princeps Senatus arrived in Ostia, around noon. Not one to linger, Scaurus immediately demanded--a man of his position did not merely seek--an audience with the town's duumviri.

They came at once, both men of exalted--in Ostia--old families with Roman citizenship going back at least three hundred years. Manius Acilius and Gaius Nipius stood in the public square of Ostia with sweat running down their faces, and not only due to the cold weather. Due to its strategic and economic importance to Rome, Ostia's rulers were not elected; rather, the Censors appointed them every five years. And so, both men had much to lose by antagonizing Scaurus, who had reconfirmed (the ten year wait was winked at) Gaius Nipius and Manius Acilius three years previous, and whose fathers and grandfathers had been confirmed and reconfirmed since the Second Punic War at least.

Yes, the two had everything to lose by antagonizing a Roman consular by not complying fully and obeying all wishes, legal or not. Though superb administrators with bloodlines groomed for the job, neither man had much experience with skulduggery, vetting, or any other sort of dark, shady tasks; both were completely astounded when the murder of a Propraetor had been discovered. So both, with news of Scaurus's imminent arrival, were up long before the dawn.

They stood in the middle of the 500 foot-wide public square with most of Ostia's important citizens and public servants behind them; even the slaves who had spent days frantically scrubbing the temples and statues and flagstones until they shone were expertly faking hard work, and in fact had one eye on the proceedings.

Men hard at work at the docks were in no position to see or hear the arrival of the Princeps Senatus, and so they missed the astounding--to the duumviri--inclusion of senior Consul Titus Bruttius and his eighteen (eighteen?) Lictors into the Roman party. Titus Bruttius--no political ally of Scaurus's, but senior Consul nonetheless--rode next to Marcus Aemilius Scaurus who was--despite his lack of imperium and less official status--the clear leader of this party; the Lictors were mounted and arrayed in a double line behind the Consul.

Scaurus and committee rode until they were within fifty feet of the Ostians. Scaurus stopped, and it took a split-second for Titus Brutius to stop as well, though all and sundry saw it. Scaurus dismounted first. To the inexperienced eye it looked as though he was according the Consul a greater presence; in fact, and to all who looked on, it proclaimed that Scaurus was the true leader here, no matter what the unmannerly and protocol-unaware New Man might say or do.

Scaurus properly let Titus Bruttius take the lead, and lead him to the Ostian party. Every man was wearing a very clean white toga, and the effect made Titus Bruttius--who wore a toga praetexta, as did Scaurus--squint in an ugly way; certainly this did not impress the Ostians.

"Good morning," said Bruttius as sternly as he could manage as he shook each man's hand in turn. "I am Titus Bruttius, your senior Consul."

Manius Acilius, whose eyes kept flicking over Bruttius's shoulder to Scaurus, began, "I am Ma--" before Bruttius repeated his greeting to Gaius Nipius instead of simply shaking his hand. Face strained and eyes again seeking Scaurus--who gave no indication of his internal mirth!--Manius Acilius began again after a short silence, "I am Manius Acilius, senior duumvir. This man is my colleague and second half Gaius Nipius, and I speak for both of us when I greet the Consul of Rome Titus Bruttius and the Consular Marcus Aemilius Scaurus Princeps Senatus to Ostia."

"I thank you," said Titus Bruttius formally, eyes unreadable at this uneven comparison of Scaurus's full name and his own. "It is a sad affair that has brought us here, and that has forced the Senate to act." He pulled a rolled up scroll from the sinus of his toga and, showing to the duumviri that the seal was both genuine and unbroken, opened it and pulled it flat. "The Senate of Rome, on behalf of the Senate and the People of Rome, does confer upon Marcus Aemilius Scaurus Princeps Senatus a Propraetorian imperium, and the title of Inquisitor. His duties include the investigation of the death of Propraetor Marcus Antonius, the injury of a stable master named Titus Petilius, and any other act in Ostia or part of Ostia he deems worthy of scrutiny." The speech done, Titus Bruttius handed the missive to Scaurus next to him and took a step back.

Scaurus fixed each of the duumviri--who now knew the purpose of the six Lictors, which came with the Propraetorian imperium--with an intense stare in turn. His eyes--which were a beautiful green-yellow more suited to seduction than intimidation--did not scare them so much as his mouth. That usually grinning or smiling part of him--though they did not know it--was now drawn into a frown which etched lines that ran to the sides of his chin. "That was the formal description, and now I will tell you what I shall do. I will stuff my nose into every corner of Ostia; I will enter every grain silo, every warehouse, every cellar, every attic, every highborn lady's jewelry box; I will go over Ostia from top to bottom and question every person--man or woman, child or elder--whom I deem to possibly possess some information. A great sacrilege has been committed, Quirites, and it is my job in part to right it, and appease the Great God by apprehending the ultimate culprits. Our Flamen Dialis Lucius Cornelius Merula is as I speak conducting purification rituals--has been for six days--in the hope that Jupiter Optimus Maximus will spare us gloom and destruction."

Manius Acilius, though his face and body were composed, was at a loss at how to respond. Gaius Nipius, his colleague, was a bit faster, and gave a token reply. "We hear you, Inquisitor, and will do all in our power or influence to help. This black deed has visited great odium upon the city of Ostia, and I swear on my seal-ring that Ostia's best citizens will do all in their power to aid you."

Scaurus nodded and turned to Titus Bruttius. "I am safe here, Consul; I do not require an escort any longer. Return to Rome and to your duties there."

Very put-off at being ordered about like a servant--escort indeed!--and painfully aware of the Ostians' eyes on him and their presence at every election--including the one that would (hopefully) see him become Censor--Titus Bruttius--with no mean brains, despite his lack of eloquence--responded, "It is my pleasure to have conducted you safely to Ostia; a man as experienced, and of so ancient a family, as yourself should not be without help and direction on the road. There are many men of my age and even older who heard of your heroic military and Forum antics as young boys; it would be a misfortune to see any ill befall you." In one fell stroke, Bruttius had called Scaurus slightly lost and demented, and too old for the job; however, due to Bruttius's general manner and unimpressive bearing, it came out sounding quite churlish.

After a five second pause, Scaurus gestured to the Lictors and the waiting horses. "You have been dismissed," was all he said before turning back to the Ostians, whose adoration and complete compliance he had just won. Bruttius, red-faced and dejected, walked quickly to his horse and the expressionless Lictors who had witnessed the entire affair. No doubt all Rome would know of the exchange before dawn tomorrow...damn Scaurus!

And he was off.


Two days later, at dawn on the 23rd of Iunius, Scaurus's stay in Ostia was over. With his typical whirlwind of cold efficiency he had managed to interview some thirty people close to the stable master and privy to the conversations of the shifty young men who had mysteriously disappeared--probably to Rome, where they would never be found. During two nights of banquets he had talked of many things with Ostia's great shipping and grain magnates, and learned a lot from them, and more from the notes and statistics that Saturninus had compiled.

Several of the suspect merchants were interviewed, and their warehouses inspected. Two men, resigned to their fate, slit their wrists; no ruinous fine and therefore essentially disinherited children for them! Roman law did not provide for drawing of a fine from a suicide's inheritors. Seven other, less brave, men were arrested by Scaurus's Lictors and kept in the town's small jail to await fast trial in Rome. Typically only holding one or two violent drunks for a single night, it was quickly crowded; even more crowded than it should have been because regular citizens wandered in and took the novel liberty of spitting on such wealthy men with no repercussions. Several other men--including three that Scaurus had never even suspected--quit town in the middle of the second night, after the first few arrests. Ah, well, thought Scaurus. Guilt proven.

When he left, it was with all of Ostia's goodwill, for all wanted the odium of a sacrilegious murder and a grain swindle to leave their town, and to never enter it again. The entire delegation of two days previous--minus some fifteen men--as well as what seemed like half of Ostia--and might have been more; the dock laborers and overseers were now present--saw him off. He stood on the concrete wharf looking taller and straighter than he was--well, that had been Scaurus his whole life, hadn't it?

Manius Acilius and Gaius Nipius accompanied him to where his trireme--a very good, very legal ship owned by a very good, very legal captain--floated next to the wharf, slapping sounds of its rocking magnified by proximity to the hard surface. "So that's it, I'm off." He was going to Sicily--which he hadn't told them at first because of fear that some rat would send warning letters (and right he had been to do so!)--to see for himself what Marcus Antonius had found. Deputy-Quaestor Marcus Milonius and Deputy-Governor Aulus Hirtius he had instructed to stop and read any letters going to any person from Gaius Memmius, Gaius Flavius Fimbria, or any other person he fancied; Saturninus had trusted one and Marcus Antonius the other, and Scaurus had to settle himself with trusting both.

Both duumviri, who had grown very comfortable with his presence in the two days they had known him, smiled ruefully. Manius Acilius said, "I am very glad you came to visit us, Marcus." Scaurus made a friend wherever he went. "I know I truthfully echo my colleague when he said two days ago that we greet you; in fact, it is no stretch to say that all of Ostia greets you. Any time you wish to pass through--and we hope that it will be often--you will receive an especially warm welcome."

"Thank you," said Scaurus warmly, genuinely wishing that his character and disposition were inclined to retirement in some nice, sunny beach town--like Ostia. It was not to be, however; his personality was geared toward action and involvement. Though, what did it hurt to lie to them? It was a very white lie indeed. "I will definitely visit; and when I can't, I will write!" Well, there then; a half-truth.

Gaius Nipius said, eyes tearing up, "We'll be honored to host you again, and we're very sad that you're leaving! You've uncovered and driven away a true den of vipers; we can never thank you enough."

Scaurus laughed mirthfully. "Oh, Gaius Nipius, you're thanking me altogether too much." He waved his arms around his head dramatically. "Leave me alone, do!" Still laughing, he shook hands with the two men and boarded. "Take me away," he said to the captain, who was happy to have a Roman Consular and his Lictors on board.

And he was gone.

 

[tuareg109]

So in a few days (probably Tuesday), when I find several hours to do something, I'll have to go through every update and standardize spelling, capitalization, use of numeric vs. written numbers, use of Italics and Bold and their extension to punctuation and quotation marks, and the like.

I'll also have to go back and create a master list of characters, their traits, properties, information about their personalities and appearances, and various titles and commands, as well as birthdays. There may be some continuity errors, and this shit ain't gonna write itself.

Until then, business as usual!

 

[tuareg109]

FOR WANT OF THE HAMMER

THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM, 647 AVC​

It was on the 3rd day of Quintilis and ten days after Scaurus's departure for Sicily that Lucius Appuleius Saturninus journeyed to Ostia to resume his duties as Grain Quaestor. Having been away for eighteen days, he found a massive mess of overdue paperwork and irate merchants, and a ruefully smiling Deputy-Quaestor Marcus Milonius.

"You incompetent!" Saturninus hounded him out of the offices and barricaded himself inside for the next two days, served only by the one Lictor that all Quaestors were entitled to. Two days later he emerged an hour after dawn, pale and red-eyed and blinking owlishly. Junior Consul Lucius Vettius had accompanied him, and viewed it as his duty to protect the important Grain Quaestor, whose actions and evidence clearly invited reprisals from those same shady figures who had done Marcus Antonius in. Thus, though one Lictor served him it was seven--his own plus half of Vettius's--that surrounded him and escorted him to the house of duumvir Manius Acilius.

There he found the Consul, the duumviri, and four of the town's most important magnates eating lunch. "Ah!" the host rose and took Saturninus's limp hand in his own. "The hero awakens! How goes the organization?"

"I'm about half done," Saturninus managed to utter before yawning enormously. "Oh, oh, oh! That's better. I've just come to see how things are, and then it's off to bed."

Lucius Vettius nodded. "It's better that you do get some rest, Lucius Appuleius." Saturninus gazed at him shrewdly for a second, wondering again.... Was Lucius Vettius in on the scheme of Gaius Memmius and Gaius Flavius Fimbria? He'd been no friend of theirs, and he enjoyed military affairs more than commerce or administration, and yet...he'd been one of Fulcinius's friends, and also one of those quickest to move away from him after Catulus Caesar's trial--only three months and four days ago! And so many things had changed.

"Hmm, I thank you for your concern," was what Saturninus settled himself with. "Though, oh, I am monstrously hungry. I do believe that I will join you fellows." Lucius Vettius moved over of his own volition to make room for Saturninus, and they all set into their meals.

After a while one of the shipping magnates, an Equestrian with the unusual name of Opiter Sabucius, said right after licking his fingers clean of oil, "I've had letters from several acquaintances in Syracuse and Messana."

"Oh, so have I," said a fellow shipping magnate.

"I too," echoed a grain merchant.

"Well," Opiter continued after these affirmations, "they say that Scaurus is doing quite the job in Sicily. Good man, did wonders for us. No surprise that he's a legend."

Vettius looked uncomfortable, but it was Saturninus that answered, "Truthfully, gentlemen, every elected magistrate of this year--including myself--was quite set against Scaurus and his opinions at the beginning of this year." He coughed, "Well, we've learned much; and, though I disagree with Scaurus on many affairs yet, I can safely say that he's the most efficient man I've seen at work. Like a whirlwind, truly."

"Well said," said Vettius. "Oh, pity that his son won't live up to his name."

"What mean you by that?" asked the grain merchant, one Appius Vagnius, with the curious Ostian flavor of Latin. All listeners save Saturninus leaned forward; gossip was gossip no matter what, and one of the Romans' favorite pastimes.

"That young man's a tad lily-livered; he doesn't live up to Scaurus's expectations at all."

"Tchah, Lucius Vettius," interrupted Saturninus, face red; what little tact this man owned! "Few grown men, let alone a youngster barely out of boyhood, could hope to live up to the expectations of our Princeps Senatus!"

Lucius Vettius, seeing the point and sensing the amusement of the Ostians, shrugged. "You may be correct." As Consul, he still had to save face by not apologizing to a mere Quaestor.

There was a pause until their host, Manius Acilius, said, "Anyway, how do you like the weather here, Lucius Vettius?"

"It's nice; warm and not hot, a nice breeze without harrying wind, very fresh fish every day. I like it."

"We were hoping that the Princeps Senatus would want to retire here. He's done so much for us, in only two days, and he too expressed affection for the town," said Gaius Nipius.

Saturninus shook his head slowly. "Not like Scaurus at all--to retire, I mean! No, that bald old egghead will be in the center of the action until he's gone. Look at him, through here like a tornado and off to Sicily before you can say 'Hello'! And at his age!"

"I just hope you're not right," said Gaius Nipius. "We've gained something by your coming back to administer the grain trade, but we can't help but feel that a great thing was lost when Scaurus hopped on that ship for Syracusae."


In Rome things were returning back to normal...albeit slowly. On the 10th of Quintilis--a full 25 days after Rome learned about Marcus Antonius's death--the only people still wearing the togae pullae of mourning were Marcus Antonius's sons Marcus and Gaius, their mother and his widow Caninia, and her brother and his family--in Arretium.

Since Caninia was of a very minor Equestrian family, she did not have many friends in Rome. The only noblewomen she was acquainted with only knew her because of the fame and geniality of her husband, and his renowned honesty and efficiency; of friends she only had one. About noon, as per the usual, there came a deep, loud voice booming through the Atrium.

"My dear, my dear, let me see you!" boomed the voice, and Caninia could not help herself from smiling. She stayed put until the voice had wandered all through the house, and found her on the warm Loggia.

Servilia Caepionis--sister of Caepio Senior and wife of Catulus Caesar, though she was only 23--hugged her tightly and said, "Dear sister, how was the night?"

Caninia hugged her back just as tightly. Here was one who, despite having never suffered great loss or pain, sympathized and understood. "No dreams, my dear. None at all!" Her glee turned to sadness in an instant, "Though I worry so for my poor boys!"

"No worries," Servilia's hand remained on Caninia's shoulder. "My husband and his brothers were--are good friends of the Antonii. The lands and assets of your sons will be well-managed, with my Quintus Lutatius's position as executor of Marcus Antonius's Will." A white lie. Catulus Caesar's blood brothers were good friends of Marcus Antonius's; however, Antonius's support for Catulus Caesar's prosecution was unforgivable in that man's eyes. Still, it did not preclude their wives from friendship.

"You're quite right, thank you!" Both women took a break from the emotional exchange to take in the wondrous view. Marcus Antonius's fine, ornate house on the Carinae had a fine view all round, but the best was from the Loggia; from it could be seen the Palatine, and then just next to and a bit beyond it the Capitol and its Arx; between them were the red-tiled roofs of the Forum buildings. To the right and down the slope was the entire brown-and-red Subura, and above them the Quirinal and the Viminal Hills. To the left the top of the Circus Maximus was just barely visible over the Palatine, if one stood on tip-toes; of course, the tall Marcus Antonius had been able to see it easily.

"What a beautiful day, Servilia. Why don't we take a stroll to the Forum?"

"What a good idea! We can go over the Palatine and see who else is walking around; it'll be so good for you to meet the other girls."

A few minutes later, quite ready to go, Caninia remembered the children. "My boys hate being cooped up in here," she said to the steward. "Have somebody take them to the Campus Martius, they'll love watching the races and the fighting, and Marcus can participate--in the footraces only."

The impassive steward nodded. The late master Marcus Antonius, though all for physical strength and bloodlust, would have insisted that the boys take their lessons in Latin and Greek before going anywhere; with him gone and Caninia grieving, discipline and education had fallen by the wayside. Little six-year-old Marcus Antonius, once a mischievous and clever devil, had become very quiet and reserved since his father's death, though he cried little. His brother Gaius, half his age and not quite remembering their father, had asked indignantly "Who cares?" when told of the reason for mourning. First he'd been pummeled by his brother, and then his mother had administered a good and long spanking with her own hands. After that he learned to tread carefully around the topic of their father, though he was still unrepentant.

The women were soon chattering away and winding their way through the Macellum Cuppedenis--the markets on the northwestern slope of the Velia that looked down on the Forum. After admiring this or that shawl or jewel, the two friends cruised down the broad Via Sacra and into the Forum. They took a right where the Via Sacra met the Clivus Palatinus, skirting the Porticus Margaritaria--for once they entered that market of gems and jewels and the most precious pearls, they knew they'd never leave--and then passed by the houses of the three major Flamines (Dialis, Martialis, and Quirinalis).

"Oh I say," said Caninia, stopping suddenly. "What is the Flamen Dialis doing?" She gestured to the house to the right--his, and paid for by the public--where he stood in his heavy wool cloak cut on a circle with a hole in its middle for the head--the laena--and ivory helmet with a disk of hard wool impaled upon its peak--the apex--and holding a wooden rod some ten feet long in his skinny hands. He kept jamming it against the roof of his house and drawing it to the side, as if attempting to dislodge something.

Servilia sighed as they moved to the side so as not to inconvenience other walkers; she leaned against the Flamen Dialis's low stone wall. "Oh, he was a fine man in his youth. Courteous, intelligent, not a bit dangerous, but with quite a bright future ahead of him."

"Why did he volunteer?" asked Caninia curiously.

"Oh, he didn't," snorted Servilia. "He just had the misfortune of marrying young, to a Valeria Messala. Since the Flamen Dialis has to be a patrician married to a patrician woman, and dear Lucius Cornelius Merula was the only man available, he was forced into it. I suppose he viewed divorcing his wife, committing suicide, or going into voluntary exile as cowardly decisions all; so now he wears the apex and laena, and has never been to war, and can't spend a single night outside of Rome."

"Poor man," said Caninia with genuine pity. To a Roman man with aspirations, such restrictions were to make the grossest mockery of his life; and yet, he was needed. Jupiter Optimus Maximus required his spiritual sacrifice.

"He's been quite touched by it," said Servilia, gesturing with her head. "I'm surprised that the fact he was touched by a dog at the Supplicia Canum didn't drive him over the edge."

"Rome's luck has been just terrible since then!" cried Caninia, reinforcing what many people in Rome had been feeling since the beginning of the year. "Publius Rutilius getting nowhere in Gaul and my Marcus murdered in Ostia. And you have to remember how much blood sprayed on Titus Bruttius at his inauguration as Consul! The year is barely half over; who knows what is in store for him yet?" Caninia avoided mentioning Catulus Caesar's acquittal as one of the evil events, as she was talking to the man's wife.

Servilia shook her head. "Ah, at least next year we'll have good men. Even without Marcus Antonius, there are good men." Silence prevailed until they turned in tacit agreement to continue down the Via Sacra, leaving Merula to his task. Some hundred feet down the road and to the left was the tribunal of the Urban Praetor, who sat frowning on his curule chair, clearly detesting this waste of time.

"Oh, he does look annoyed!" said Caninia, who had met him a few times during Catulus Caesar's prosecution.

"Vicious cur!" hissed Servilia acidly. "Fulcinius's minion, and then turning on him the moment he falls! A real man, no matter how evil, at least has principles; my husband and brother are such men. As was your dear man."

"I quite agree," said Caninia, who did not agree. A man with scruples did not go far in Rome--and there were likely several facets to Servilia's husband and brother that she didn't know about. "Still, let's ask him about Julia."

They approached, Caninia's face open and smiling, and Servilia's quite expressionless. Spurius Dellius's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Caninia, my dear, and Servilia Caepionis! What brings you two here?"

"Just out for a stroll, Praetor Urbanus. How are you?"

"Oh, I feel great! So late in my life and married to the love of my life; I never could have foreseen it. It quite suits me, really. Oh, Julia is a great wonder; a great woman! So hard and so soft at the same time, and so sensitive to all she sees!" He went on for some time, extolling his wife's virtues, until he stopped suddenly. "Well, I'm just running on, aren't I? Well, and how are you ladies?" This last came with a sympathetic look to Caninia.

She put on a brave face. "It's been almost a month, and I am starting to cope. Servilia is the best help a woman can have, except for maybe a mother; well, I have no mother, so Servilia is mine for the time being!"

"I have time for it, my dear. My stepson spends all day running himself dead on the Campus Martius, and half the night locked up writing poems and diatribes, though he never lets us see them."

Spurius Dellius, more privy to the thoughts and actions of a fourteen-year-old boy than these two women, stifled a smile of mirth. "Fourteen is as fourteen does; he'll grow into a fine young man."

"Like his father?" Servilia bit back, spoiling the mood.

Spurius Dellius ended in simply fixing her with a look that said Really? I mean, really? that ended up making her look quite churlish. The women departed soon after that.

"Oh, the worm!" was Servilia's comment. Then they reached the Well of the Comitia, across which was the closed and barred Curia Hostilia--today the Senate was not in session. They skirted the Well and hurried by the smelly Forum Piscinum, and into the Velabrum. Low-lying land which had once been marsh and swamp often flooded by the Tiber, sanitary works and ditches had turned it into a bustling region of insulae, shops, marketplaces, workshops, and warehouses of all sorts. Busy all day and most of the night, the Velabrum was perfectly situated between the Palatine and Capitoline hills, and only a quick dance down from the Upper Forum.

They spent perhaps an hour wending through its kind, crime-free alleys and looking in on apprentice sculptors chiseling away at rough blocks of stone, freemen and freedmen and slaves making repairs or relaxing on their day off from work, women and their slaves washing clothes in the public fountains, a woman with what seemed like ten children hanging about her screaming that their father would find out, an intense huddle of some hundred men speaking an entirely foreign tongue, and many more interesting things. Trust the Velabrum to give two aristocratic women a little taste of the unorthodox--in complete safety.

After a walk on the green Palatine and after visiting Julia Caesaris and seeing two Caecilias, a Porcia Liciniana, a Valeria Messala, and Cornelia Scipionis--the daughter of Scipio Nasica, and a few other noblewomen, the two friends turned tiredly toward home.

"Oh, what a tiring day!" cried Caninia, flinging herself upon her couch. She quite enjoyed these little forays, with no slaves or bodyguards accompanying them. Since the reign of those good Urban Praetors in the past two decades, the Palatine, the Capitol, the Velabrum, and the Port of Rome had been very safe for anybody walking there. The gangs wanted to risk no more crackdowns and deaths over a few hundred sesterces; no, they went where the big money was.

They went to Gaius Fulcinius.


Ah, that last line I regard as a master stroke! Also, what think you all on the female perspective? Is it too emotional, or too technical, or just right, or in some other way defective? Please let me know.

EDIT: Hot damn what was I thinking when I wrote "Claudia Scipionis"? Fix't.

 

[St. Just]

Gaius Fulcinius is... the paterfamilias.