Текст книги "Swords of Rome"

Автор книги: Christopher Buckner

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 26 страниц)

“Julia will be there. I know for a fact that she will be very excited to see you again, after so many years apart.”

Gaius’ posture suddenly changed at hearing Antony speak of his sister. His mind worked out what his answer would be as he wanted, needed to see her again. However, the prospect also frightened him terribly. Nevertheless, he gave his answer with a warm smile.

“Then, I will make the effort to come.”

“Excellent. Until tonight,” Varro said before he turned and rejoined his fellow senators.

“I think he likes you better than me,” Antony jokingly commented as he placed his hand on Gaius’ shoulder. “Unfortunately, I have too much boring work that needs taken care of, and so little time to do it. Now, I must take my leave, old friend. Tonight, around six, the same house we stayed in during our first trip to Rome as boys. You do remember where it is, don’t you?” Antony asked.

“I think I can manage,” Gaius replied warmly.

“Wonderful. Until tonight,” Antony turned and quickly rejoined his father as they exited the Senate, along with a dozen other men behind them.

“Until tonight,” Gaius replied with a soft voice. He took a deep breath, already birds began to swirl in his stomach at the thought of seeing Julia again. Ideas to find excuses to escape the dinner ran through his mind. Regardless, however, he knew he wanted to see her, despite his fears, so he would do what was asked of him and man-up. What was the worst that could happen – she’d grown fat?

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The night air was cool and had a pleasant aroma of fresh rainfall, which for the time had washed the filth from the city, at least on the surface; in the morning, the smell of trash and excrement would return.

Gaius walked down one of the countless mazes that made up the streets of Rome. The night was dark, which made every step a careful one. A few torches lit his path, but they did not help his journey much. While he was a stranger to these streets, he did not have much trouble finding his destination. Varro’ estate stood along a stretch of road that was dominated by numerous wealthy homes and businesses. Currently, he was less than two blocks from the gates.

He did not entirely feel comfortable about being out alone. While the streets of Rome were relatively safe during the day, at night, it was a different story. These narrow corridors were famous for hunters who emerged after dawn. Muggers and rape gangs preyed on the unsuspecting. A few hurried footsteps and peering eyes from within the surrounding darkness would from time to time catch Gaius’ attention. Most of them were harmless, but every few blocks, or so he could hear ominous whispers from the shadows.

He wore no armor of any kind but only a long red cloak, which signaled him to be a soldier. This, for the most part, was what kept those prying eyes away from him, if any of the men behind those stares had other intentions, and if there was trouble, Gaius kept his right hand firmly on the hilt of his sword, which hung loosely down beside his hip. A small dagger also was kept behind his back, both of which he was more than comfortable using if he needed them.

There was a part of him, as he neared the estate of Senator Varro that wanted to be attacked. He was young and had trained for years in the art of warfare and single combat. However, Gaius had never had the opportunity to test his abilities outside of training, nor had he killed a man since joining the Sixth. However, that didn’t mean that Gaius was a stranger to death. In ten years since joining the legion, he had witnessed a number of accidence and fights that ended in one or more men dead. He, himself had been cut a number of times that if not attended to by the camp doctor, he would have bled to death.

As it would stand, no one dared challenge him this night as the gates to Varro’ home came in sight.

After Gaius knocked on the hard wooden gate, a small hinged door opened and allowed an old man’s eyes to peer out.

“Announce yourself, stranger,” the man demanded.

“I am Centurion Lucius Gaius,” a sense of pride filled his words. “I am here by invitation from Antony, son of this manor and senator of Rome.”

When he finished his address, the small door closed with a hard thudas the old man backed away. A moment later Gaius listened as the sounds of heavy iron bars were removed from behind the gate, before it swung open, just enough for Gaius to enter.

Standing behind the gate was a short man who bowed his head slightly as Gaius stepped inside.

“Greetings, and welcome Master Gaius; Master Antony is expecting you. If you would please follow me, I will take you to him with haste,” the old servant now said with the utmost respect.

Gaius followed the slave through the courtyard. To his right, he noticed several stables that currently held four horses of expensive breeding. Two boys tended to the animals, taking the moment to glance behind them and stare at the soldier who walked through the yard.

Slave living quarters were set to the far left of the high stone wall that surrounded the whole property. The estate, like many in the city was built like a small fortress, meant to keep people in as much as out.

Six guards patrolled the grounds. One man, whom had a long scar running across his face, kept his eyes on Gaius as he stood in front of the main entrance. The men were big and burly, meant to intimidate on sight. Gaius noted that the man by the door had a brand on his inner right arm, indicating that he once was a gladiator; a normal practice by Rome’s wealthy elite to hire the famed champions of the arena as bodyguards.

The slave then turned before leading Gaius further inside, and held out his hands, palms up. “I will require you to relinquish your weapons, sir.”

Gaius was hesitant for a moment, but the slave’s old eyes were firm as he did not budge from his posture.

Gaius did as he was asked, first removing his sword from his waste, and then pulling his dagger out from behind his belt before handing each over to the slave carefully.

The man’s expression returned to his normal cheerful demeanor as he turned and handed the weapons over to a female slave who stood by the doorway.

“Thank you, sir. You are free to enter. Master Antony is expecting you and should greet you shortly.”

“What of the lady of the house?” Gaius asked.

The old man smiled oddly, as if he was in on some privet joke.

“Lady Julia is present.”

Gaius nodded as he stepped over the threshold, glancing behind him for a moment as the slave went back outside to his post, probably waiting for the rest of the guests to arrive.

The air was warm and comfortable contrary to the stiff breeze outside, and while Gaius had been in the house once before, ten years ago he was still easily impressed with the elaborate and tasteful decor of the interior, which seemed to have been remodeled, perhaps several times over since he last walked through these halls.

Gold-capped columns were placed throughout the large interior that received all guests. The cleanliness was heavenly as the stone marble floor gleamed brilliantly from the numerous torches that cast their flickering light across the open spaces. Opulent furniture, tables and statues were scattered throughout the front room, while a low-lying marble pool, touched with floating flower peddles center the floor.

Along the far wall, leading into another set of rooms were the death masks of generations past, decadents of Antony and Julia’s family. Gold and copper bowls of fresh fruit, and scented oils filled the room with a sweet aroma that swirled around Gaius, begging him to enter further.

“Gaius!” Antony called out as he turned the corner, where a cheerful chorus of voices could be heard behind him. A big smile quickly formed on his face as he raced over towards his waiting guest.

“It does my heart wonders to see my brother back in Rome,” Antony exclaimed with a beaming smile as he embraced Gaius; a full cup of wine in one hand, which he was careful to hold away from Gaius’ fine red cloak.

“It is good to see you as well, my brother,” Gaius replied. Antony stood back and shook his head, amused as he looked Gaius over, taking in every detail as if his eyes could barely believe what he was seeing.

“I still cannot get over seeing you like this. How can this be the boy whom I beat at every turn with our wooden swords?” Antony laughed with a delightful grin.

“Oh, your memory is deluded with fantasy, my friend. I do recall that I won more than my share of engagements,” Gaius smiled.

Antony laughed again as he clapped his arms around Gaius once more, unable to hold back his excitement to see his friend finally after ten years apart.

“I think that military stew has clouded your mind,” Antony added.

“Then perhaps we can test our skills again and renew our contest.”

“I would welcome the challenge. Come, you must regale me with the many marvelous adventures you’ve been on since last we saw one another,” Antony said as he escorted Gaius further into the house, leading him to where the other party-goers were gathered.

“There isn’t much to tell, I’m afraid. I eat. I sleep. I train, and then I repeat it all the next morning.”

“Oh come now, I’m certain there is more to a soldier’s life than that. The details of your womanly conquests alone must be worthy of tales written by Homer.”

Gaius couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the serious tone in Antony’s voice.

“Well, I suppose it would be worthy of a poem or two. There were the Brutus sisters a few winters ago.”

The two old friends continued to talk before Antony led Gaius to the arboretum, where a dozen men and their wives and daughters were gathered, talking, drinking and eating small morsels of fruit and nuts. However, before Antony took Gaius further, he stopped him and looked his friend over, seemingly searching for something.

“What is it?” Gaius asked.

“Oh, nothing; I’m just trying to see if you’ve brought a knife. After more than an hour with this crowd you’re bound to want to slice your wrists open,” Antonym used with a somber tone.

“It cannot be that serious, can it?” Gaius asked with a puzzled expression.

“Trust me. Drink as much as you can, or kill yourself now. These are my father’s friends, either by choice or by purse.”

Gaius managed a cheerful smile, wondering how much of his friend’s words was genuine.

“Gentlemen, I would like to welcome our new arrival, the finest soldier in Rome, Centurion of the famed wolves of Rome, Lucius Gaius, and my oldest and dearest friend I might add,” Antony announced with beaming pride as he escorted Gaius, presenting him before the gathering guest of his father.

“Rome’s greatest soldier, eh?”

“Well, behind you that is,” Antony smiled as he nodded towards his relative, Fabius Maximus.

“Sir, it is a pleasure to see you again,” Gaius said as he extended his hand, greeting his superior.

“Oh, have we met before this evening?” Fabius asked, trying to place Gaius’ face.

“Apologies, sir. You visited the camp of the Sixth Legion a number of years ago, and we spoke only briefly that day.”

Fabius laughed.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t say that I recall such a day. I do tend to see many of our legion barracks. Regardless, it is always a pleasure to be introduced to our next generation of officers. I’m sure you are making your legion proud and Rome as well.”

“I do my best, sir. And thank you.”

Antony took a big swig of his wine before he moved to the next group of guests, introducing Gaius to each of them. All personal friends and or patrons to his father, they greeted Gaius with pleasant smiles, most of which seemed false as they had little care to know one of Antony’s friends in detail. Regardless, Gaius kept his smile firm.

Gaius wasn’t introduced to the group of women who sat together, further down from the men; most of whom were younger or the same age as, he. They were the wives, daughters and concubines of Varro’ guests. Most were very beautiful and dressed in expensive gowns, adorn with jewels, silver or gold.

Many of the teenage ladies eyed Gaius with curious expression as they sized the youthful and handsome Roman officer up; wanting to remember his face, for future interest.

As Antony had been introducing Gaius to the party guests, his eyes had been secretly scanning each of the women’s faces, looking to see if he could identify Julia among them. He had no idea what she might look like. He barely recalled her face as it was. Ten years was a long time, and she would be sixteen now, a woman, so any one of the females of the party could have been her as far as he knew.

As Gaius was standing, facing away from the main entrance, Antony directed his gaze behind him as another guest arrived. With a careful glance, Antony said without words for Gaius to turn around, which he carefully did, not knowing what to expect.

Gaius could smell the wonderful scent of perfume before he turned and saw who was standing behind him. The rose oil swirled around him like a storm at sea, demanding that he take notice of the person wearing it. And as he turned, the woman whom he had dreamt of every night for ten years was standing before him.

It took no effort for Gaius to recognize Julia as she stood in the entranceway, poised as all eyes turned towards her.

He paused, suddenly feeling at a loss for words, staring for a long while, completely dumbfounded as to what he should say to her.

Gaius had imagined her many times over the years. He had pictured wonderful images, and horrid ones as well as those that were unrealistic; whatever his mind needed to do to keep his heart in check. However, even he could never have believed that the little frightened girl who cried in his arms the day he left home could have grown into the vision of beauty that stood before him.

Her hair was long, nearly down to her waist and was as black as a moonless sky, glistening against the torchlight, which reflected the oils that coated the finely woven braids and curls. Strands of her curled hair hung freely over her youthful face. Her lips were rose red and glittered with sparkles of gold dust. Julia’s arms were bare, as her neckline was exposed as long purple silk dress that glided along the marble floor dropped loosely off of her shoulders.

In her hands, a beautiful shawl was held carefully. Gold and other jewels hung from her ears and neck, as well as wrapped around her forearm and wrists.

Julia moved as if she had been born an Egyptian queen. Her presence brought everyone’s attention to her as she entered the arboretum.

Gaius stood, still without words as her piercing eyes stared at him for a long while. She then took the first step towards him, extending her hand, waiting for him to take it and kiss the top of her palm.

He felt the softness of her flesh against his rough hands as he held her palm carefully, smiling with a silly grin. She, on the other hand, stared at him with the same mild-tone expression.

“I am unsure what to say,” Gaius finally spoke as he stood a few inches before her.

“Introductions would be the customary thing to say in this situation,” Julia’s words were polite, but said with an unfamiliar tone. Her voice carried like a lady, one that was confident and commanded respect from those that stood before her. She was a Roman woman now and not the little girl whom Gaius had remembered so vividly.

Gaius’ heart sank to the floor as he stared at her for a long while, silent before he did as she had said.

“My lady, I am Centurion Lucius Gaius.” His words felt heavy as they came from his mouth. He kissed the top of her hand carefully, but Julia’s stare was expressionless, stern and unforgiving, showing no hints of familiarity.

Julia managed a faint smiled before she stepped away and greeted her father and the rest of the guests.

Gaius was confused as he glanced back towards Antony, who too seemed unsure by his sister’s strange attitude. Gaius wondered if all his worries had proven true: had she forgotten him? What a bloody fool he was. What did he expect – her to leap into his arms and cry out his name?

He lowered himself into his seat next to Antony as Julia joined the other women who quickly sparked their own conversations, focusing on the gossip of Rome.

Gaius felt like a fool. Julia wasn’t the same person he remembered. She wasn’t the little girl who hung on his every move like a lost puppy. She was sixteen and a proper Roman woman ready to take her place among the social elite of the Republic's upper class where memories playing in the fields with a farmer’s boy, pretending to be a princess who waited for her brave hero to come to her rescue, were in the past – games for children.

Gaius wished he hadn’t come. A part of him wanted to get up right then and leave. He could find any number of excuses justifying his sudden absence, but he knew it wasn’t right for Antony. He wanted to spend time with him as much as he desired to see Julia. So instead, Gaius took a long swig from his wine and decided to stay.

As Varro and his guest continued with their conversations, losing track of time before dinner was to be served; Gaius did the best he could to pretend he was interested in what the men were saying. From time to time, he and Antony would share a few comments, but it was mostly Antony involved in the conversations, taking his father’s points of view more than expressing his own ideas on the topics.

He still couldn’t help drift his eyes over to Julia when he thought no one was looking. He admired how beautiful she had become, and how well she commanded those around her as all the women hung off of her like extensions of her jewelry.

And subsequently, as he was about to turn his attention back to the guests, as the girls started laughing about something, Gaius hadn’t been able to make out; Julia slowly turned her gazes towards him, first only with her eyes, after that she slightly tilted her head and locked onto his stare.

As Gaius looked at Julia, for only an instant, her whole demeanor altered as her alluring eyes widen, strangely seeming to change back to the girl he remembered, as if a spark had been ignited. She showed a hint of nervousness, which was shared equally with Gaius as a small smile crept across her face.

With faintest of gestures, Julia mumbled a polite and familiar helloto Gaius, ending with a loving grin that she tried best she could hold back, but failing.

Gaius replied to her privet greeting before Julia was forced to turn her attention back to the other women, as they asked her a question, which she eagerly answered before the group erupted into giggling once again.

Gaius’ spirits lifted in that instant as Julia’s stare lingered again, as the two caught one another in each other’s eyes when the opportunity presented itself.

She has not forgotten me;Gaius thought to himself, joyful by his own words. He longed to be by her now, to share in her words, yet, after ten years he was so close, but still distance separated them, as did the proper edict.

He would wait, he decided. He had this long already.

CHAPTER TWELVE

The wine flowed freely, as did the discourse as Varro and two dozen of his guests sat around a long marble table, which at the moment is being covered with the fifth course, which comprised of an assortment of pastries, rich and sweet breads, and a dozen varieties of fruits and nuts, served with an endless flow of hot, cold or honey wine.

Slaves moved in between the guests, refilling silver goblets. Plates were removed when they were emptied, before being filled once more as everyone ate until they were full. A number of the guests, to Gaius’ dismay, vomited into copper buckets that were set next to them; an acceptable act, done, so they could expel their meal and subsequently quickly refill their bellies with more delights as if this was the last meal they were ever going to eat again.

The main course had consisted of assorted soups, spices and wild game such as duck, boar, quail and fish, all mixed with vegetables, breads and sweets that Gaius had never seen, much less tasted. It had been the best meal of his life, and unlike the guests, he wasn’t about to expel the contents of his stomach until nature took its course. Consequently, he wasn’t able to try everything that covered the table.

Varro sat at the head, as the guests were seated by their importance along each side. It had been the senator who carried most of the conversations, as Varro had an unlimited roll of topics which to bring up at any moment. These interests drifted across many subjects, from catching up on personal and family business, to politics of the Senate, and what internal and foreign troubles were plaguing the Republic. More recent, talk shifted to the rogue Carthaginian general, Hannibal and his seemingly madman’s determination to crush Rome entirely on his own.

Hannibal’s name had been echoed all day through the streets, since the Senate had declared its intention to march against him. Most of the men in the room were old enough to remember the last war Rome fought with Carthage, and more so, Hannibal’s father who stood undefeated as he controlled the island of Sicily – sweeping aside one legion after another that dared to set foot on its shores. Haunted memories troubled many men, namely those that stood to lose the most if Hannibal became as troublesome as his father had been.

Most vocal had been Fabius Maximus, who despite the growing, annoyed stares from his uncle continued to bring Hannibal up at the dinner table.

Fabius was a military man, raised to lead men into battle. He clearly wanted to be north with Scipio’s legion as it moved to intercept Hannibal, yet, here he was, stuck with his uncle in Rome due to family obligations. Gaius could see the raging storm that brewed behind his eyes, but Varro treated him like a child, using his authority as master of the house continuously denounce what his nephew tried to argue.

Gaius found it uncomfortable to watch Fabius squirm in his seat as if some insect had been chewing away at his backside since dinner started. He clearly needed to be heard, wanted to reach out to these men, men who had it in their capability to make changes that could protect Rome, but acted powerless when faced with threats that stood to topple everything men for generations had sworn to uphold.

As Gaius listened to the ongoing conversations, it seemed to him that Varro was positioning himself to take control of the Senate. If that was a good or bad thing, he did not know. However, it seemed that everyone around the table, and many more businessmen and senators unseen stood to gain a great deal with Varro’ rise to power.

“How can any of you sit here today eating my uncle’s food and act like the world isn’t going mad?” Fabius interjected, bringing the previous topic of conversation to a halt as he blurted his statement out with a slight slur in his voice.

“There is no need for theatrics, Fabius,” Varro spoke up.

“I’m afraid there is, uncle. When will each of you wake up and see what is staring us in the face? We act as if nothing can touch our city, yet, we believe that our enemies will bend to our every demand. And now, when one man stands to challenge Rome with an army of northern barbarians, you simulate a fiction that we aren’t in danger,” Fabius added as he stood angrily to his feet.

“Sit down, nephew. Was it not I who called upon the Senate to take action first?” Varro defended as his tone rose with annoyance. By now, all of his guests had ended their privet conversations and had turned their gaze to the front of the table with keen interest.

“You might have been, but why is the Senate turning against Carthage, demanding, not requesting, that they deal with Hannibal on their own?” Fabius paused briefly, but he did not allow Varro to reply. “He went against them as much as he is challenging Rome. However, instead of standing with Carthage, we shift the blame for Hannibal’s actions to them, which will very likely lead the Republic to war on two fronts, and that if our enemies in Greece and Macedonia don’t take advantage of this conflict and rise up against Rome as well. What will you do then, uncle, when our legions are stretched beyond reason? How will the Senate protect its people?”

“We cannot make peace with Carthage anymore than we can a wild dog,” Varro cried out, his anger starting to get the better of him.

“It is easy for you to see them as lesser, isn’t it? Then tell me, dear uncle, how will you explain you position to the crying widows and mother of our dead legionnaires as their blood is spilled not on just our own soil, but on lands distant from home?”

“Because they are lesser than us, dear Fabius,” a new voice added to the argument.

Gaius directed his attention towards the man who sat next to Julia; closer than he would have liked. He recalled his brief introduction with him earlier in the evening as a man by the name of Paullus.

The name was not unfamiliar with introduction. He was a powerful figure, more so than even Varro, wealthy, respectable and hailing from an influential family that had served the Rome for generations. Most notably Paullus had spent much of his time in Greece with his four legions, putting down one rebellion after another. These acts made him a celebrated man. However, it was not these details that concerned Gaius, more so the frequent stares and gestures, and hidden whispers he made to Julia that had kept Gaius on the edge all night.

Julia played her role, laughing and smiling at him with affection when called for. Right now, it was how Paullus had gently rested his hand down on hers’ with an uneasy familiarity that went beyond simple friendship.

“If Hannibal wishes, let him cross the Alps. The legion under Scipio’s authority will crush him, and his horde like we would a slave rebellion. It will serve as a reminder to all those who dare stand before Rome’s destiny,” Paullus commented as he finished a cup of wine.

“If you are that confident in our legions, why are your men staying in Greece?” Fabius asked.

“Please, my good friend. There is no glory in crushing Hannibal and his rabble. Those spoils are for older men, well past their prime, men such as Scipio,” Paullus snorted.

“I would hardly call fifty thousand men a rabble,” Antony commented, which brought a sharp gaze from his father.

“A few thousand Gauls, nothing more – No lesser beings on the face of the earth,” Varro quickly commented to weaken his son’s hasty statement.

“Do remember your history, father. It was those blue-skinned dirt worshipers that sacked Rome,” Antony quickly shot back.

Varro looked across his table as a number of mummers from his guests filled his ears.

“That was a long time ago, when Rome and the Republic was weaker. I would not show any faith in Hannibal’s ability to maintain his alliance with the Gallic tribes for a prolonged period of time. They are as likely to rip his throat out as they are ours.” Varro tried to salvage the debate and ease his guests’ mind, but still it was easy to note that many at his table were becoming uneasy about the topic as the wine and food had stopped.

“And are we Romans are so superior that we, in such a short time are faced with another invasion?” Fabius added.

“Oh, come now!” Varro blurted out as he finally lost his sense. “You cannot honestly believe what you are saying.” Varro slammed his fist against the surface of his table, which drew everyone’s attention to him. “No army of Carthage or barbarians can topple this government or its legion, regardless what some may say at my table. Rome is strong, and this emboldened – delusional Hannibal will soon be nothing more than a footnote in our history when we are done with him!” Varro asserted.

There was silence for a moment as Varro looked around the table. He could plainly see that it was starting to weight on his guest whom the night might be lost.

Gaius noticed that Varro had a desperate glare in his eyes. He needed to find someone that would agree with him, beyond those he already had in his pocket. It was then, to Gaius’ concern that Varro settled his eyes on him.

“And what about you, Gaius, what does our younger generation think?” Varro directed his gaze down to his son, “that has proper training and experience in matters of warfare has to say about these matters that face our great Republic?”

Gaius swallowed hard as he suddenly wished he had a shell in which he could hide in, as everyone’s attention was turned towards him, as if he had the wisdom to ease their troubled minds and instill confidence in Rome’s abilities to handle the current crisis.

Taking a deep breath, Gaius wasn’t sure what he could say. Truthfully, beyond the simple facts that every common citizen knew, he understood little about Hannibal and his bloodlust against Rome. He hardly had enough time to think of the matter, not with so many other concerns that kept his troubled thoughts preoccupied.

Gaius decided it was best he played it safe.

“Well, Senator, the luxury of being a soldier is, you don’t have to have any political views. I merely fight who I’m told without question as to why.”

Varro was silent for an awkward moment before he burst into laughter, which was soon copied by a number of his guests.

“Well, lad, with men such you, Rome is certainly safe.”

Gaius forced a shrewd smile as he took a sip of his drink. He knew that was what Varro expected him to say, to follow his superiors’ authority without question, and blindly walk through the gates of Hades if instructed.

It was then that Gaius looked into Julia’s eyes as she stared at him with disappointment, and suddenly he felt ashamed. He had lied, and she knew it, somehow. He had his individual mind and his private opinions, but he allowed the pressure of those he perceived to be superior to him clouds his thoughts, and Julia saw threw him.

Gaius coughed, which drew Varro and his guest's attention back towards him.

“However, Senator, if I may continue,” Gaius interjected. “Those are the thoughts of what is expected of a simple soldier. N I am a centurion in Rome’s legions, and a citizen of this Republic. I know the truth isn’t as uncomplicated as we all wish to make it seem. A soldier works in facts, and the modest fact is Hannibal has armed a combined force that numbers well over anything Rome has faced in two generations. We are the sons of the veterans who knew this enemy. We have heard their stories and because of that, I know one thing above all: no matter what you wish to call them, so that your words can give you comfort, they are not weak, nor should we ever underestimate them. Carthage has a culture as old as ours, and like us, they will not allow a foreign power to dictate how they grow and expand. If we are to mend the damage between our two nations, then those that lead need to make more effort to reach a compromise that doesn’t risk the lives of more Roman men. Alternatively, I fear we will face the dire consequences of our failure to be responsible to those citizens who place their trust in us.”