FOR WANT OF THE HAMMER

[tuareg109]

FOR WANT OF THE HAMMER

FAREWELLS, 647 AVC​

"Ah, scarcely a month back and with my girls, and it's off to serve Rome again," sighed Sulla dramatically to his audience; Sulla always loved to have drama in his life.

"Your two girls...and now one other, unknown," answered Caecilia Sullana, and patted her flat stomach.

The silence was broken by a shriek of mirth from Cornelia Scipionis Nasica, "Oh my dear, that's wonderful!" Being the newest member of this extended family-alliance group, she was determined to be regarded as a welcome and friendly addition. It was October 15th, and the families of the men who were going with Spurius Dellius to the Hispaniae to defeat the Germans had all gathered in the commander's house; Spurius Dellius was not highborn, but he was certainly rich! His servants had inserted large shutters in the gaps of his spacious Loggia's walls; in this way he had created a dining room large enough to fit the several attending families, and warm enough to make the venue attractive.

Spurius Dellius's wife Julia, shrewd woman that she was, had had one long table set up; in this way nobody was left out and one had only to turn one's head to see every other person attending. The seating of men and women alternated, with couples seated directly across from each other; other than this marital compromise, every person was seated near others he was on good terms with but did not know well. This kept the conversation both civil and intriguing.

Though spring and autumn were the fast seasons for social life, every person even remotely related to this venture had found some way to attend. Spurius Dellius and Julia of course attended--he at the table's head, she at the foot--along with her family (Gaius Julius Senior, Marcia Regina, Quaestor Sextus, Flamen Dialis Gaius, and unmarried Julilla), her father's nephews and their families (Catulus Caesar, Catulus Junior, second wife Servilia Caepionis, Lucius Julius Caesar, wife Aelia, Gaius Julius Caesar Strabo Vopiscus, wife Sempronia Tuditani), the Flamen Dialis's wife and in-laws (Cornelia Scipionis Nasica, Scipio Nasica, wife Caecilia Metella, son Scipio Nasica). Since Drusus Junior had headed back to Rome on hearing of Caepio Junior's death, and was now going to Spain with Dellius, there was him and his family (father Drusus, mother Cornelia Scipionis, sister Livia Drusa--who was also betrothed to Scipio Nasica Junior, and thus sat across from him). With the Livii Drusi came Publius Rutilius Rufus and family--Rufus's dead wife was Drusus's sister, and he was a friend of Gaius Julius Senior and Sulla besides. With Rufus came his sister Rutilia, her husband Cotta, and their large brood--including Lucius Cotta, who was going with Dellius to Spain. Then, since Caecilia Sullana and Quintus Caecilius Metellus Piglet were in attendance, there were Metella Calva and Lucullus, and the Pontifex Maximus, and his cousins the Caecilii Metelli uncles of Nepos, who were also Scipio Nasica's wife's brothers--Nepos was on the road to Sicily with Lucius Valerius Flaccus. Scipio Nasica's wife and her brothers also had another sister, Caecilia Metella, who was Publius Servilius Vatia's wife. Then there were their nieces--and Nepos's sisters--the upright and chaste Vestal Virgin Caecilia Metella Balearica, and Caecilia Metella Balearica and her husband the new Aedile Appius Claudius Pulcher. Since Caecilia Sullana was there and her late mother was a Domitia, that dragged the Ahenobarbus brothers there. And since that Domitia's sister was the wife of Caepio, she and he ended up attending--still grieving for his son, and still depressed--with their daughter Servilia Caepionis.

[that...that took me ten minutes to write--now to count....]

The 46 people in attendance were a mixed crowd; some were not on good terms with others, while others were on good terms with all. Some were approaching sixty years of age while others were barely out of puberty. They all came together that day, however, and partook in the good will that Julia especially exuded.

Sulla had issued his statement during a lull in the conversation around him; his wife across from him was getting along well with the people near her, as was he. To Sulla's right was Cornelia Scipionis Nasica, whose shriek had caused him to jump, and to his left was Livia Drusa--an utterly dejected-looking girl who spoke in monosyllables. To Caecilia Sullana's right was Vatia, and to her left was Gnaeus Domitius Ahenobarbus. The shriek had stopped all other conversation; as women stood to flit to the lucky woman's side and appreciate her condition--not Livia Drusa though, Sulla noticed. Why am I so interested in her fate?--Sulla rose, sighing, and protested loudly that he needed fresh air. Half the men stood with him, agreeing.

Bellies full and skins warm, they moved into the Peristyle Garden, leaving the warm Loggia to the women. Here the air was cool and still, but sheltered from the biting autumn wind. Dellius's precious trees were shedding their leaves, but a boy armed with a broom who patrolled the Peristyle's floor made sure that the tiles bordering the garden remained impeccable.

The men mingled and talked; Scipio Nasica especially, noted Sulla, was trying to make unerring conservatives out of his emotionally distant cousins. Sextus Caesar was succumbing, but the Flamen Dialis was made of sterner stuff; interesting.... Except for Scipio Nasica, the Pontiffs huddled together; Lucius Caecilius Metellus, Marcus Livius Drusus, Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus. Scaurus--with a lot of work to do around Ostia and on good terms with neither Dellius nor Scipio Nasica nor Drusus--had declined an invitation politely, and Quintus Mucius Scaevola would go nowhere near his ex-wife's extended family.

As he was observing this, a strong hand grasped Sulla's elbow. He looked up to see tall Spurius Dellius standing over him and looking friendly. "Why don't we retire to the Atrium, Lucius Cornelius? It is a bit crowded even here." Since Sulla had arrived in Rome their meetings had always been rather public, and they'd had no chance to talk about Sulla's legateship and its limits. Sulla nodded and allowed himself to be steered to the Atrium, with a shake of his head for Piglet, who was silently offering to follow.

"So," said Sulla, low-voiced, when a hundred feet separated them from the crowd of talking men. "What do you want to know?"

"I know just from looking at you, and the ideas that you have, that you will be vastly important in Rome's future, Lucius Cornelius. You are competent and you are intelligent, and I do not begrudge you one ounce of independence that you will need to thrive. Without your information I would not have pushed so much for this command, and it would have been given to a Consular when the truth outed; I am a grateful man, and I must repay my debt to you. What do you need?"

Sulla had thought long and hard on this as far back as Aquitania. However, the necessary information hadn't been available in Gaul, and it was only when back in Rome that Sulla had access to it. He sent Trophimus and some clerks to every library and repository known to Rome, as well as to the houses of every amateur Senatorial geographer and geologist; Lucius Cornelius Sissina had been especially eager to oblige a fellow Patrician Cornelius. This was how Sulla learned of the geography of the Hispaniae, and what he wanted.

"I want Hispania Ulterior--the Further Province. I'm sure you've investigated Spain as closely as I have, and you know that any continental war there has to be fought on two fronts--the Baetic Mountains, the Central Desert, and the Iberic Mountains divide Hispania in two. We'll both fight rebellious tribes in our respective halves, and I'll drive northward and then eastward while you push the Germans east. We'll catch them in a pincer somewhere near the head of the Hiberus [Ebro] River."

Geography of Hispania​

"A very sensible plan," nodded Spurius Dellius. "I assume you want the further province because that entails less contact and oversight from Rome.... Less awkward for me as well; nobody will know that you're virtually independent."

"Exactly," nodded Sulla. "I've been planning this since the end of last year."

"I don't doubt it." Spurius Dellius thrust his hand out and grasped Sulla's own, and was surprised by the strength in Sulla's beautiful pale hand. "Lucius Cornelius, it will be a pleasure working with you for however long this campaign lasts."

"Spurius Dellius," replied Sulla with a feral grin of his own, "I only hope that you're able to hold onto this command with all the jealous aristocrats that will be after it." Just then the two men heard the clatter of footsteps, and Lucullus swept past them in a fury.

"Whatever's the matter with him?" asked Spurius Dellius, face slack.

"I imagine," said Sulla with mischief in his eyes, "that someone's said something about his wife."

"No," said Julia, striding up to them and with mirth instead of mischief in her eyes. "It was his wife said something. Do come back to dinner, husband; you manage to stabilize any company you're in." Rolling his eyes at Sulla but grinning all the same, Spurius Dellius followed his wife back through to the Peristyle Garden and into the Loggia.

Sulla stopped at the Garden and joined four young men who were in deep discussion. "Lucius Cornelius!" Piglet greeted him. "Are we going to enjoy this campaign or what!"

"Calm down, son; you're growing on me," Sulla taunted, and gestured to the Piglet's groin where a mound of cloth indeed protruded vulgarly.

"Gah!" Quintus Caecilius squawked as everybody laughed, and he smoothed it down. "Damn stiff tunic; I'll have the washing-slaves beaten!"

"So they caused your unfortunate condition," pounced Lucius Cotta, showing his wit. "I'll have to find washerwomen as pretty as yours."

"No woman's as pretty as you," grinned Drusus Junior. After the shock of this statement--Drusus Junior was, though brilliant intellectually, somewhat dull socially--faded, the five burst into laughter again.

"Whereas you, Marcus Livius, are the exact opposite! My eyes were fine until I first saw you," grinned cross-eyed Caesar Strabo. More laughter was precluded by Julia, who again sallied out of the warm Loggia.

"Enough, all of you!" she laughed, "and back into the dining room! I heard everything you know, and you five disgust me!" This insult was tempered by her obvious mirth. "Really, Lucius Cornelius," she said to Sulla, who was the last to file back into the Loggia. "Boys like them, sure, but you? I expect better from a man nearing Praetorian age! Really!"


Yep, that's settled. A family tree is in the making.

 

[Grouchio]

Hope that family tree can flee Rome when the time comes...

 

[tuareg109]

FOR WANT OF THE HAMMER

SERVING THE GREAT GOD, 647 AVC​

After almost a month as Flamen Dialis, Gaius Julius Caesar Junior was getting quite used to it. He had taken easily to the plain fare of the Flamen Dialis; no leavened bread, no extravagances. However, since Gaius Julius Caesar had never been a gluttonous man, it did not pain him to eat the tiny, thin brown slabs that were unleavened bread. What did pain him, and much, was being shaved with a bronze razor every day, for the Flamen Dialis could not touch iron; since his barber as Flamen Dialis was the same man that had barbered and shaved him since childhood--a man specially manumitted to be the Flamen Dialis's barber, for the Flamen Dialis's hair could only be cut by a free man--he knew that the fault lay not with the man, but with the metal. Bronze was too soft, and after a few passes nicked his skin mercilessly; bone, the only other alternative, was too jagged and could not be sharpened well at all.

Gaius Julius Caesar would have kept shaving--it was the proper Roman tradition!--had it not been for his wife, who he had begun loving soon after the confarreatio ceremony--the strict wedding between two patricians--and who loved him in return, for he was a very handsome and nice fellow, unlike her father and brother. A dear but somewhat plain and homely--as were all the Cornelii Scipiones--girl, it truly hurt his wife to see so many evil-looking and freely bleeding nicks and scrapes on his face; after learning of her dismay, he stopped shaving immediately. The thin blond beard that grew in looking a bit goatish and ridiculous, but he was Flamen Dialis, why should he care?

The other restrictions did not bother him much. He was not allowed to spend a night outside of Rome; well, when had he ever? He was not allowed to touch a horse, or iron; no more war play, but he had grown out of that already. He was not allowed to look at an army; unfortunate, but no big deal. He was not allowed to swear an oath or wear an ornamental ring; oaths were for people whose word could not be trusted, and ornate rings were for women and fools--in other words, this restriction did not bother young Caesar. He could not touch a dead body or raw meat; good! He could not enter a burial place; he could still visit the tomb in which the ashes of the Julii Caesares resided, just not enter. He could not touch a she-goat or ivy; what a silly restriction! He could not touch or name a dog; unfortunate, Caesar rather liked dogs. He could not touch beans; silly, beans were rather tasty! Lastly, not other person was allowed to sleep in his bed; as he planned to visit his wife's bed instead of summoning her like some oriental madman, this did not bother him.

Truly, the only two things that sat even a bit ill with him was the requirement that he wear the heavy woolen laena and the heavy, chafing ivory helmet apex outside. Though he hadn't experienced it yet, he knew that they would cause great discomfort out of doors during the summer; Sol would smote him mercilessly. However, he was young and could live with it; no doubt he would grow to enjoy it as the years passed.

On the whole, the unambitious Gaius Julius Caesar viewed the opportunity to serve the Great God, Jupiter Optimus Maximus, as a far greater boon than his restrictions were misfortunes. Certainly he would not grow as sheltered and erratic as Lucius Cornelius Merula was; for one thing, he was nowhere near as ambitious or heat-filled as Merula had been in youth. No, Caesar was calm, collected, quick in thought but slow in action. His wife was perfectly demure and chaste, and he preferred that to some wild and leaping temptress; he himself was chaste, and their weekly act of love was always a slow but powerful thing full of love and desire, but not wanton lust.

In the first few weeks there had been much to learn and much hurrying about; there were holidays to proclaim, dates to calculate, hymns and chants to perform. The Flamen Dialis swept out the room any Roman citizen had died in of evil spirits; this meant that he often had to travel all over Rome--and in the heavy laena and ivory apex! Well, he at least had a Lictor to carry his papers and his curule chair.

He learned then of many religious brotherhoods and ceremonies that he had never imagined existed; strange old snake- or wolf- or fish-worshiping cults that had survived the centuries of Hellenophilia and Peripateticism, with strange rituals involving flutes and fire and all sorts of dancing, all of which the Flamen Dialis and his wife were required to know. Good thing for the Flamen Dialis that his wife was a bright girl.

In that first month his mother and sister visited daily, asking him how was this and how that, and making sure that he was comfortable and not lonely, and keeping Cornelia company. The religious couple's many duties and constant interruptions, however, soon contributed to less and less visits. Gaius Julius Caesar lived quite well without his mother to baby him and his baby sister to tease him.

It was mid-November, and about the time that Spurius Dellius and his large crew were arriving in the Hispaniae, that Gaius Julius Caesar had a visitor. It was odd for a visitor of the Flamen Dialis to arrive unannounced; visits were planned days ahead, due to his busy schedule. As it happened he was home and in his study writing a letter to his brother Sextus, on his way to the Hispaniae as Quaestor to Dellius--the Romans were profligate writers of letters--when Lucius Cornelius Sissina--great lover of Flamines and all things religious that were involved in ancient matters--arrived.

Sissina was of an old but unknown branch of Patrician Cornelii; never solvent enough to climb higher than Quaestor--spending mostly on ink and paper, if Sissina was the typical example--and of too scholarly a bent to find solace and fortune in war, the Cornelii Sissinae had spent the last three generations deeply involved in the investigation and recording of Roman history. When asked why they were recording minutely events that had happened only hours ago, they always gave the answer: So that we will be remembered. Other could make neither heads nor tails of that response--what did it matter what people in hundreds of years thought?--but Caesar understood, and undertook to preserve and record as much as he could of the rites and rituals he was learning, and of the knowledge available to him.

That Sissina would visit under such circumstances, however, was completely unnatural. What on Earth could be so urgent? "Gaius Julius, Gaius Julius," he said, flapping his arms and then hugging them about himself. "I had to come straightaway, it's so important." The old man--he was nearly fifty--was shivering; there were bits of snow in his hair and on his bare arms, and he had on only a tunic and woolen slippers. And yet Spurius Dellius, about five years older than Sissina, would have exuded power and warmth in the same situation.

"Benevolent Gods, man, what are you doing? Come here," cried Gaius Julius, taking Sissina in his embrace and half-leading half-carrying him into the study, which was next to the furnace room and thus very warm. On the way he took the longer way around the Peristyle Garden instead of through it--he had no apex on, and thus could not walk under the sky. In the study Caesar took his laena off and draped it over Sissina, who was sitting in the client's chair. "Bring hot tea and some soft blankets," said Caesar to a slave, who--prescient that he was--already had the blankets in hand. Caesar swept the heavy, rough, smelly laena onto the floor and covered the old man with soft blankets.

In five minutes he had warmed considerably and said, "Thank you, Gaius Julius."

"You are welcome, you silly fool! What could be so important that you'd risk freezing to death, or a bad cold at the least, to rush over here. It must be a half-mile from your house to here, and you can't run!"

"Q-quite right, my friend. But this...it's important."

"It's a crispy November night, and snowing--why, it's been snowing for weeks." Caesar paused, noting the ridiculousness of himself chastising an intelligent man almost twice his age. "Well, out with it then; what's so important that you'd kill yourself over it?"

"It's...it's to do with your sister, Gaius Julius." Sissina swallowed, and Caesar sat down.

"Go on," he said, calm and collected, and immediately knowing that Sissina was speaking of his younger sister. "I gather this won't be good?" Julilla had always been a free and rather spoiled spirit; the youngest child, rather unplanned, and forgiven her quirks and her tantrums and her rudeness. Sextus had grown up painfully aware of his respiratory limits; Gaius was aware of his family's money problems and thus unambitious and never needing gifts; Julia had grown into a sweet, shrewd, deadly flower, knowing that her value would determine her family's marital alliance, and thus its future fortunes. Julilla had been spared all this pain--and had grown selfish in the process.

"No, Gaius Julius. It's...." Sissina looked into Caesar's eyes, and then at the wall. "How long has it been since you've seen her?"

"About two weeks ago; mother's visited three times since then, without Julilla."

"Well, that's...preternatural of you; you knew that I was speaking of Julilla."

"Go on, Lucius Cornelius. What of Julilla; what's going on?" asked Gaius Julius, who was by now dying of curiosity.

Sissina sighed, squirming about uncomfortably. "I...I came to you first because you are my friend. There--you might have a better way to tell your father...."

"Tell him what Sissina; tell him what, exactly?"

"You've met my nephew, Quaestor-elect Publius Cornelius Sissina--"

"What does that have to do with it?" wailed Gaius Julius Caesar, exasperated. Cornelia, unable to contain her curiosity any longer, poked her head around the corner and opened her mouth. "Wait a second!" Gaius Julius wailed, now at her. Utterly confused, but practical enough to see that something extraordinary was occurring, Cornelia departed. "Go on!" Caesar snapped at Sissina when the man didn't continue immediately.

"Alright, hold on!" said the old man, easily cowed. "That has much to do with it; just listen! My nephew Publius, as I was saying, is very typical of my family. He's like myself and my brother; scholarly and the like. You didn't meet, however, my other nephew, Publius's brother Lucius. That Lucius Cornelius Sissina is not like me at all. Not quite so homely--" Sissina had no delusions as to his appearance "--or timid--" or his character "--as I or my brother, Lucius is a bother! He drinks, he gambles, he dices, he whores; he absolutely abhors scholarly pursuits, regarding them as a waste of time. He can hardly read and brawls constantly; he's threatened to enlist as a ranker--imagine it, a Patrician Cornelius enlisting in the legions!--every time my brother's attempted to rein him in. We have no idea what to do."

"Go on," prompted Caesar more kindly after giving Sissina a minute of miserable reflection. He knew the type of men Julilla was attracted to...and saw where this was going.

"To put it plainly, Gaius Julius, this evil nephew of mine met Julilla, and seduced her, and will be the father of her child!" Then he shut his mouth and stared with big eyes at Gaius Julius Caesar.

Caesar's eyes closed, and his heart beat faster. Ah, what had he done to deserve this? This responsibility, this kind of sister. His mother's temper would fly high and she would never love Julilla again, but father--kind, soft-spoken, generous father--it would kill him. Gaius Julius Caesar had to speak to Julilla, as soon as possible, and completely alone. He had to find a way to break this to his family without causing its destruction.

And, for any honor to come out of this, he had to speak with Lucius Cornelius Sissina; a Roman woman who had a child out of wedlock was the lowliest creature on Earth, to other Romans. The only honorable solution was to marry her to Sissina; well, at least the logic fit. One penniless noble marrying another.


It had been difficult to find time to accomplish his diplomacy, but Caesar knew that time was not on his side. Being the Flamen Dialis meant learning about all sorts of things natural and unnatural about this world and about humans, and of women too. He knew that gestation was about forty weeks, and that any time more than two weeks less would be regarded as suspicious. The day after his surprise meeting with Sissina, and with the complete connivance of his wife and his good friend, he went to meet his--hopefully--future brother-in-law.

Since it was about noon, Lucius Cornelius Sissina--the young man--was home, of course; who expected him to wake up earlier, with a hangover and less than six hours of sleep? Sissina woke his nephew with difficulty, and only succeeded in truly drawing him when he spoke of the Flamen Dialis. Lucius Cornelius Sissina the Nephew's heart beat faster; a very high religious figure and brother of his lover? Daunting! Though Sissina Nepos was proof against the toughest brawl and the most cankerous of whores, he was a Roman, and thus cowed into utter submission by religion and by any hint of the Gods and their official servants--Flamen Dialis included.

He emerged yawning and smelling, with stubble on his chin and ruffled tunic, to shake Caesar's hand lazily. He was big--quite as tall as Caesar, who was tall even for a patrician--and meaty like a longtime soldier, with a thick thatch of light brown hair and a casual handsomeness; he was 24 years old to Caesar's 26. It was no part of Sissina Nepos's diplomacy to appear at a disadvantage. Caesar, however, immediately assured Sissina Nepos that he was at a disadvantage.

As soon as the handshake was over, and with uncle Sissina watching, Caesar wiped his hand on the smelly laena slowly. "Dis-gust-ing," he said slowly and quietly, then barked, "Disgusting!" Sissina Nepos jumped, and Caesar launched into his planned diatribe. Five minutes of uninterrupted tongue-lashing--with no insult or chastisement repeated--followed, and ended with Sissina Nepos lying on the floor, quivering and convinced that he would end in Tartarus, stretched on a rack or burned with lava by torturers for all eternity.

Caesar, who himself believed the original Roman idea of death--simply a lack of life, and an end to memory, experience, and existence itself--did not reveal to Sissina Nepos this alternative. He offered the alternative of the Elysian Fields--the green, blessed fields where heroes and philosophers and the Gods themselves strolled and engaged in discussion and fraternized to their heart's content, with every pleasure and indulgence imaginable, and invigorating military pursuits and races besides. Caesar, with his slow perseverance and unacknowledged cunning, reduced Sissina Nepos to a blubbering child.

On retrospection, Caesar could have done without Sissina for a brother-in-law; at the time, however, it had been the only solution short of finding a moderately handsome brown-haired plebeian plutocrat willing to marry a Julilla--none in short supply, but none that were as brilliant as Spurius Dellius. No, better Patrician Cornelius Sissina than lowborn plutocrat. Abortion, for such a highborn girl, was of course anathema; better for a girl to kill herself than that.

Caesar, who definitely did not want to see his dear sister--no matter what she had done--dead, convinced Sissina Nepos quickly of the honor in marrying a Julia. Descended from Aeneas, and through him from Venus; with a small dowry but powerful marriage connections through sister and younger brother; ripe and ready and beautiful at twenty years of age, and already pregnant--and no doubt good in bed, thought Caesar sourly; that was Julilla. And Sissina Nepos agreed. Caesar would speak to Julilla and break the news to his parents.

Hurrying back to his house to prepare for another ceremony--the whole ordeal with his future brother-in-law had taken half an hour--he was followed by friend Sissina. "Oh Gaius Julius, that was brilliant! Wonderful! Amazing! My brother and I simply don't have your skill, your beauty, your--power! Yes, power, like a King of Rome."

"I shall hope, Lucius Cornelius, that Rome never has a king," said Gaius Julius with a wry grin.

"I only wish I could have recorded your words and had them published, Gaius Julius," continued Sissina, still following. "What a cure it would have been against all such brawling bullies as my nephew. Pity the subject was so personal."


TA-DA!

EDIT: READ READ READ---ADDED A SMALL PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF LUCIUS CORNELIUS SISSINA NEPOS---READ READ READ
For all of you who happened to see read this less than 10 minutes after it being posted.

 

[tuareg109]

So...what does everybody think of this informative and specific update?

Hope that family tree can flee Rome when the time comes...

AHA AHAHAHA HAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAH!

Well...a Roman might drive them out....

Seriously though, I only have two months planned ahead, as of now.

 

[St. Just]

Nice two updates.

 

[Grouchio]

So...what does everybody think of this informative and specific update?



AHA AHAHAHA HAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAH!

Well...a Roman might drive them out....

Seriously though, I only have two months planned ahead, as of now.

See if you can extend that outlook to a year's planning, if that doesn't hurt your script.

 

[tuareg109]

Aha, hahaha, wow; caught a huge continuity error.

The Quaestor-elect of next year is now Publius Cornelius Sissina, the elder nephew of Caesar's old friend and brother of the rogue Lucius Cornelius Sissina.

 

[St. Just]

the upright and chaste Vestal Virgin Caecilia Metella Balearica, and Caecilia Metella Balearica and her husband the new Aedile Appius Claudius Pulcher

Two Balearicas? Or should one be a Dalmatica?

 

[tuareg109]

FOR WANT OF THE HAMMER

SULLA IN SPAIN PART 1, 647 AVC

Geography, towns, and rivers of Hispania; for reference​

On the 19th of November the veritable flotilla of Spurius Dellius arrived in Tarraco [50 kilometers south of Barcelona on the map], and the flurry of activity which would define his governorship of the Hispaniae began. Sulla, as official Deputy-Governor and a hard taskmaster in general, sallied into the Governor's palace and immediately began to order the hapless slaves about. Since the departure of Marcus Aurelius Cotta some three or four months before, the place had been run with little or no order; in fact, in the governor's absence the entire province had barely been run at all. Sulla noted this problem, and intended to fix it when he became Praetor.

Spurius Dellius didn't do his own dirty work because, unfortunately, he had become seasick as soon as Rome's seaside port of Ostia was out of sight; he hadn't been able to keep down food for long for a month, and was physically and mentally indisposed. Lucius Aurelius Cotta and Gaius Julius Caesar Strabo Vopiscus too puked and sweated the entire way, Sulla noted with glee; the weather hadn't helped them either, as the heaving seas and howling winds tossed the ships to and fro. Oh, it was delightful; and now Sulla was basically governor until Spurius Dellius regained his faculties! The first thing that Sulla did after getting situated was learn of the overall situation; for this he went to the Near Province's native legion, and to its Legate, Publius Cornelius Grovus.

Publius Cornelius's father had been awarded the citizenship by Scipio Aemilianus for his services, and thus bore his name; it was the fact that he came from such a faraway tribe--neighbors of the Callaeci [in Galicia]--named the Grovi that lent him his cognomen. He was a typical Celtiberian, with more Celt in him than Iberian; tall and meaty, with bright red hair and warm brown eyes, but with a far more slender face than Marcus Antonius Gallus's. Sulla hoped that he would be as friendly and helpful as Marcus Antonius Gallus was.

Publius Cornelius Grovus, for one, barely had a choice. He was the son of a Celtiberian barbarian, and a Patrician Cornelius of amazing grace and haughtiness was demanding something of him, something that was within his ability and duty to do; of course, he obliged. "Tell me," said Sulla in the Legate's lonely command tent just outside of Tarraco on the 23rd of November, "the situation. Don't spare me any details."

"I suppose I should start with the Germans," tested Grovus in his Hispanic accent. With a nod from Sulla he began. "My scouts have been following them since their advent some six or seven months ago; they came over the very western reaches of the Pyrenees--really just hill, and not so big, at that point--and into the valley of the Hiberus [Ebro] River from there." He frowned, then shrugged, "I don't know why they crossed the Pyrenees instead of continuing west along Hispania's northern coast. Perhaps they have scouts of their own--though we haven't encountered any--or perhaps they heard of the slim pickings there and of the plump pickings in Hispania Tarraconensis."

"I thought that the northern coast is especially lush. It only snows on some rare winter nights."

"So I've heard," said Grovus. "However, that land is narrow, and wouldn't support half a million German mouths."

Sulla nodded. "So they didn't continue on the northern coast and become a problem for bothersome tribes. They came to bother us. What now?"

"All indications are that they're heading slowly to Vareia [Logrono]. Slowly because of the fat pickings they're having along the way. To Vareia because there stand granaries that will hold all their grain and more besides, and have more grain besides. It's snowing every night and even some days, Lucius Cornelius. Hard winter is not far off."

"Believe me," said Sulla bitterly, "when I say that the Germans know what hard winter is." He described the winters in Aquitania, and Grovus shuddered.

"I dearly hope that service with Rome will never take me away from Hispania Tarraconensis," said Grovus with feeling.

Sulla's most feral grin came on display, and Grovus shivered again. "We'll see about that, my fellow Cornelius." The irony in Sulla's voice dripped. "Now, what else of the Germans?"

"They...they seem largely unaffected by their crossing of the Pyrenees," said Grovus, recovered. They look thinner than some of your troopers describe them as being, but I think that this fat land and its fat harvests will fatten them up soon enough."

"So they're headed to Vareia...now the question is, where will they go from there? I presume that they'll winter there, and then it's off to Tarraco. Here. Isn't it?"

Grovus shrugged. "Who knows what these barbarians think? They could go into the highlands of the Vaccaei and down into Lusitania [Portugal], especially if they've heard of how fertile Baetica [Andalucia] is. Then again they might be tired of walking for so long; maybe they won't mid settling around Vareia."

"Or down here," said Sulla grimly, "when they get here."


"He got your letter," said Spurius Dellius two weeks later; it was now snowing lightly every night, and the snow did not melt during the day.

"Excellent," said Sulla. They were on a tour of Tarraco's defenses, with Publius Cornelius Grovus in the lead. Marcus Aurelius Cotta, though not anticipating German arrival, had nonetheless shored up Tarraco's defenses and installed ten anti-siege catapults on the walls; not something typically expected of a Roman governor unless he had barbarians breathing down his neck. Still, it was typical of somebody who was not a military man to be so inefficient; when were barbarians ever known to besiege a city with fortifications and tactics? They either starved you out or got you from within. "I gather that you approve?"

Spurius Dellius had been sickly and utterly indisposed--very strange for a man of his health and disposition--for two weeks since arriving in Tarraco; lack of food will fell the greatest man. On arriving in Tarraco and with no relief in sight for the poor Governor, Sulla had sent a quick ship to Massilia, and thence to Arelate; would Marcus Antonius Gallus please send his twelve legions to Tarraco before the next governor of Gallia Transalpina got there and took them for himself?

Since Gallus was no fool, and knew that Sulla and Dellius could protect him against any silly punishment, and inherently liked Sulla besides, he set off at a march down the Via Domitia and towards the Pyrenees, to present himself with twelve veteran legions. The four legions of Gallic Auxilia followed him because he was one of them; the four Roman legions followed him because he was their leader and they hadn't finished their required campaigns yet; the four Roman legions originally in Numidia followed him mostly because they knew that they would be led by Sulla again. Such bravery! Such daring! Yes, a campaign with Sulla was what every man--from Olissipo to Hierosolyma and from Memphis to Mutina--needed. By the 11th of December, having left on the 30th of November, he had marched 250 miles, mostly over hilly terrain, and had about 100 to go. He would be in Tarraco in four days or less.

"Of course I approve," said Spurius Dellius, looking both weary and wary. "It was a great thought, and I wish I'd thought of it in Rome. This way I'll have to make it legal retroactively." He grimaced, "Nasty business, and with this new, conservative College of the Plebs having been inaugurated just yesterday." The Tribunes of the Plebs for any given year took up their duties on the 10th of December of the previous year.

"Hmm," said Sulla, thinking deliberately. "This year's Tribunes might not like you too much, Spurius Dellius, but some of them are practically my best friends. There's Lucullus, and Crassus Orator, and Pompey Strabo's good cousin Quintus Pompeius Rufus; even Saturninus can be depended-upon to help us." It was a white lie, and harmless enough.

"Some asshole can still Veto," said Spurius Dellius bitterly.

"Ah, Gaius Coelius Caldus sure comes to mind," said Sulla, "but he's Quaestor this year; in any case, he can't affect the Tribunes at all. Oh, and how did I forget my dear friend Gnaeus Domitius Ahenobarbus? Give the whole plan to me, Spurius Dellius, and I'll make sure that Ahenobarbus legislates it for us."

"Are you sure he well? Isn't he jealous of this command?"

"He'd eat shit, Spurius Dellius, if it would spite the men who denied him the Pontificate."

That made Spurius Dellius laugh out loud; oh, he looked--and felt--younger than he had in almost three months. Since leaving his dear Julia, really. "Aptly put, Lucius Cornelius. Now, what do you plan when we get our twelve legions?"

Ah, he was speaking with Sulla as if with an equal! Intriguing. It seemed as though his brief disease had humbled him somewhat. On came the feral grin and Sulla said, "Now that we have the Germans in one place, and close by, we should press our advantage. Defeat them decisively and drive them up into the hills or mountains before any real snow hinders our progress. Their baggage train is slow; we can capture it quickly, and they'll starve with no food. We have to move fast after getting our legions, though; any man would fight to the death to stay in his warm winter den, and we certainly don't want them to fight to death."

"And if Gallus arrives quite too late?"

"Then we wait for next year. The Germans might raid Tarraconensis or Lusitania all of next year, but then they'll be like pigs in an acorn forest; they'll lose their leadership and wander. And then we can pick them off one by one."

"I'm liking this idea better and better, Lucius Cornelius! What do you think of this, Publius Cornelius?"

Grovus, who had been walking ahead of them and had heard everything, stopped and turned. "I think," he said, blinking, "that it is genius. Now, can we please get inside, and somewhere warm?"


Make that *3* updates in one day. Well, in one 12-hour period.
Also, never underestimate Roman overconfidence!

 

[tuareg109]

Two Balearicas? Or should one be a Dalmatica?

No, Dalmatica is the Pontifex Maximus's daughter and still a tad too young to attend a dinner party.

That's Balearica the Vestal and Balearica the upright and honest wife of Appius Claudius Pulcher, quintessential Roman matron; both are sisters of Nepos, and were disgusted with his seduction of and subsequent marriage to Licinia Prima, ex-wife of Quintus Mucius Scaevola Pontiff and sister of Praetor Publius Licinius Crassus and Tribune Lucius Licinius Crassus Orator.

I quote:

Now, instead of having an august but down-on-its luck priestly family as allies and relatives of her children, she had the entire Caecilius Metellus clan at her back, as well as Metellus Nepos's sister's husband Appius Claudius Pulcher; Nepos's other sister was an esteemed Vestal Virgin. The Caecilii Metelli, however, didn't take this scandal lying down; Lucius Pontifex Maximus--for peace of mind, for he was an honorable man, and to maintain relations with his fellow Pontiff Scaevola--scolded the grinning couple harshly. The Caecilia who was Pulcher's wife and the most esteemed and virtuous woman in Rome announced roundly that she would have nothing to do with her new sister-in-law, and would only observe the most rudimentary contact with her brother.

 

[St. Just]

Gotcha. And nice third update! Death to the Cimbri!

 

[tuareg109]

Death to the Cimbri!

I don't think you read the very last sentence of the post.

 

[St. Just]

Oh I did. I just want the Cimbri dead anyway. Even if it takes a serving of humble pie for the Romans to do it.

 

[tuareg109]

Oh I did. I just want the Cimbri dead anyway. Even if it takes a serving of humble pie for the Romans to do it.

I agree, but you've got to remember that it's realism over wanking every day! Or...er...that's how it should be. I haven't always abided by that tenet.

 

[Grouchio]

 

[St. Just]

I agree, but you've got to remember that it's realism over wanking every day! Or...er...that's how it should be. I haven't always abided by that tenet.

I agree. No Cimbri wanking here

But actually, I look forward to what comes. The Boni being themselves, more upheavals, the Cimbri, and the most important question of all: who marries Aurelia Cotta!

 

[Grouchio]

No Cimbri-wank would have the Cimbri being exterminated to the last man, woman and child like IOTL, you know? There has to be some wanking to be had, like a Cisalpine state demanding tribute from a shattered Roman hegemony...

 

[St. Just]

Or perhaps, as I originally hoped, the Cimbri being pushed through Hispania to go bother Jugurtha...

Or the OTL fate of slavery. Victory for Rome! Victory forever!

 

[Grouchio]

It doesn't matter. Tuareg got banned again.

 

[altwere]

what for this time?