Call to Juno (Tales of Ancient Rome #3)(97)
Scipio was in a good mood. Camillus had declared him Master of the Horse. The honor of being appointed as second-in-command was immense. Backing the Furian in the past had proved fruitful.
Spurius was pensive, tapping his upper lip. Marcus had been surprised when Camillus had chosen Scipio over him. The tribune suspected sibling rivalry simmered below the surface after all.
Genucius was hearty, pleased Camillus was in charge. He had a chance for advancement again.
Medullinus’s voice broke through Marcus’s thoughts. “Brother, I don’t relish treating with Veii, but I think you should consider consulting the Senate about the possibility.”
“You want peace with Veii? Why? Rome isn’t on its knees. I don’t plan to grovel to Mastarna.”
“Our people huddle behind our walls,” said Spurius. “We sit in trepidation of being overrun. I’m sure we could broker reasonable terms.”
“I don’t believe there’ll be an invasion. Our spies report that the Etruscans aren’t on the warpath. I think Mastarna was exaggerating. The Veientanes were only bolstered with armies from three Rasennan cities.”
“Nevertheless, three additional city-states are enough to conquer us,” said Aemilius. “We should not be hasty about considering a truce.”
“Are you turning into a dove again? I never thought to hear you give up this conflict. Your son and his men showed extraordinary courage at Nepete. I’m sure Marcus still has the appetite to fight, even if you don’t.”
At the jibe, Aemilius’s beetling eyebrows formed a solid line, but he refrained from replying. Marcus knew his father’s bitterness in losing the wolf standard, even if the retreat was acknowledged as tactical. Titinius’s regiment had also been routed, but before the consular general had been killed, he’d ensured his army retained its pennant. At least Aemilius had been spared Postumius’s ignominy. The coward had opened his veins, his shame bleeding from him together with his life.
Aemilius also had mixed feelings about his son’s achievement compared to his own failure. The tribune and his knights were the only men to retain their spears and swords. The small band of cavalry was now lauded as the Horse Shield heroes.
Marcus held reservations about being praised as such. Camillus had assigned him to his personal staff on hearing he’d cheated death. Yet how could he claim a feat of bravery when he owed his survival to mercy?
Sharing the relief and joy of discovering both he and Drusus had survived had not lasted long. His promotion threatened a deeper rift between them. The Claudian had been promoted to a head decurion for his daring ride. But such a reward was insignificant compared to being a dictator’s personal aide. And Mastarna’s accusation of cowardice continued to weigh on Marcus. Soon he was avoiding Drusus whenever he could, lacking courage to confront him.
Medullinus crossed his arms. “So what are your plans, Brother? How exactly do you propose Rome defend itself?”
“How do we defend ourselves? By attacking! Scipio will march north to call Mastarna’s bluff. And I’ll clean up the mess left by you and your fellow consular generals in the matter of the Votive Games. I’ll also assuage the gods of Latium by irrigating its floodplains.” He pointed to the haruspex. “Just as Lord Artile prescribed months ago.”
All turned to the priest. Throughout the discussions, the haruspex had given the appearance of being disinterested, examining the corner buttresses that supported the high ceiling as the men talked. Now he focused his attention on them. “General Camillus is correct. The preconditions for victory over Veii must be met as quickly as possible.”
“Such plans are all very well, Brother, but how are you to achieve them with reduced manpower?” said Medullinus. “Two of our regiments suffered heavy losses. And the third has been decimated at your decree.”
Camillus’s eyes narrowed. “I make no apology about reminding soldiers that both the desire for conquest, and the threat of punishment, must motivate a man. And lack of men will not be an issue. I’ll call for volunteers to swell the ranks of the legions. And I’ll use some retired veterans from the home guard who are still fit for battle.”
Genucius frowned, adjusting his eye patch. “The executions have unnerved many. And now you plan to call more farmers to leave their crops? For worn bones to bear the weight of armor again? If so, something will need to be done about the booty denied them. Talk of peace is upon the lips of my fellow people’s tribunes, too.”
Camillus gripped the armrests of his chair. “Why is there always resistance from the commons! There won’t be land to farm if we don’t address this crisis! And the best chance to share the spoils is to seize the vast territory of Veii. Besides, I have a reform in mind that might please you and Icilius Calvus. I’ll swell the ranks of the cavalry with eminent plebeians who can provide their own horses.”
All the patricians bristled. The gods had visited calamity on Rome when plebeian generals were chosen. Now aristocrats were expected to ride into battle with men who’d not been born to hold bit and bridle. Marcus felt disconcerted as well. Wealthy plebeians might be able to ride a horse to hunt, but it was a different matter to control a stallion in battle.
He also expected Genucius to show surprise at Camillus’s suggestion, but instead the plebeian nodded as though familiar with the prospect. “I’d be honored to be a knight. And such a proposal will go a long way to placating the people.”