Call to Juno (Tales of Ancient Rome #3)(98)

Camillus turned to the patricians, not waiting to hear their complaints. “Spurius, organize engineers to see to the irrigation. I will visit Satricum to offer Rome’s apologies for its neglect of their gods and declare a date for duly consecrated games. And I’ll promise to honor Mater Matuta by restoring her temple in Rome. The Latin Pact will be renewed. Thereafter we’ll have allied troops to assist the Boar Legion at Anxur and Labicum.”

He addressed Scipio next. “As Master of the Horse, you must once again surround Nepete, Falerii, and Capena. Let’s take the fight to the Twelve and see if they indeed have a desire to breach Rome’s wall. Postumius’s deserters will go with you.”

“And what are Aemilius and I to do?” said Medullinus. “Have you forgotten we’re still consular generals?”

“And lucky to remain so. You’ll assist Scipio. And Aemilius will act as prefect of Rome. His survivors can swell the ranks of the home guard for the time being. I will take Titinius’s men with me south.”

Aemilius glared. “I’m to be denied an active command, then?”

“You’re badly wounded. Given your age, there’s no shame in leading the home guard. And Calvus and his cronies may continue to stir up unrest. I’ll need a calm head here.”

Aemilius pursed his lips but said nothing again. Marcus doubted his father appreciated the reminder of his advancing years.

“And Veii?” asked Spurius. “Who’s to command there?”

“No one. I want to lure Mastarna into a false sense of security. Once Rome has expiated its transgressions, and all our warfronts are under control, I’ll once again turn my sights on his city. And when I do, I’ll be the one to conquer it.”

“Again I question how this is to be done,” drawled Medullinus.

Camillus stood. “Freed from all other conflicts, our two legions and our allies will attack the northwest bridge. I’ll lead a force of six thousand men to swarm over the wall of Veii at its weakest point.”

“You only have six months, Brother,” said Medullinus, brushing his thinning hair across his pate. “Where’s the money to fund these strategies? How are already weary soldiers expected to continue fighting?”

“We need to push through exhaustion. Respite will come with victory. As will riches. In the meantime, the Senate must allow me to exhaust the treasury’s coffers.” He jabbed his finger at Medullinus. “And not you, nor anyone else, can stand in my way.”

Marcus sensed the shock of those present. The consular general stood. “Careful, Brother. Rome does not tolerate despots.”

“We all need to calm down,” said Spurius. “Camillus is right. It’s time to cast aside past grievances and jealousies for the good of Rome. He’s been given half a year. Let’s not question his authority.”

Scipio added, “Listen to Spurius. Camillus needs men who will stand beside him, not undermine him.”

Medullinus looked as though he’d been forced to drink a nasty-tasting tonic. “Very well. I will put enmity aside for the sake of the Republic.”

Aemilius winced as he reached for his crutches, leaning on one to help him stand. “Your goals are bold, Camillus. And audacity may be our only chance. I’ll support you for six months. But if Veii is not taken by then, I’ll be proposing the Senate consider peace talks.”

The dictator frowned, then nodded. “Accepted. But I don’t plan to fail.” He pointed to the doorway. “Go. You have your orders.” He beckoned to Spurius. “You stay. We need to discuss our plans.”

As the generals turned, Genucius rose from his stool. In the flurry of the others’ exchange, he’d been forgotten. “And what are my orders?”

Camillus swiveled around. He seemed disconcerted he’d overlooked the politician. “You’re now a knight. As Master of the Horse, Scipio will determine your role, given he’s in charge of all Roman cavalries.”

“So I’m not to be given a regiment? I thought . . . I thought . . .”

“Oh, and what exactly did you think?”

Genucius’s brow furrowed. Then his voice hardened. “I thought you’d show good faith to the commons by appointing me as a general.” He glanced across to Scipio. “It seems you would prefer a patrician with a weak spear arm to a man who helped you take the northwest bridge in the Battle of Blood and Hail.”

Scipio scowled at the insult. Marcus thought it imprudent for the new knight to denigrate the general who would lead him.

Camillus didn’t rise to the bait. “I’m giving you and all wealthy men of your class the chance to prove yourselves as knights. Isn’t that fair?”

Genucius stood to attention and saluted, but his sullen expression rivaled that of Medullinus’s. The plebeian had been accused of doing favors for Camillus before. Had the dictator not repaid him in kind?

As the soldiers departed, Camillus signaled to Spurius and Artile to draw up stools beside him, gesturing to Marcus to join them. And as the tribune took his seat, he couldn’t help wondering whether the dictator enjoyed ruffling feathers, challenging those around him, keeping them on edge, and reminding each of them that he now ruled them.





FORTY-FIVE



Caecilia, Veii, Spring, 396 BC

The sound of cheering outside the palace startled Caecilia. Crouched beside her younger sons, she paused in the game of ships and heads. Larce was also distracted as he knelt on the terrace tiles, poised to flip the coin. “What are they shouting about, Ati?”