The Eagle in the Dovecote Read online

  Menenius’s thoughts turned to Volumnia once again. She loved Rome, though her affection had been sorely tested since Caius left, and Menenius felt sure she wouldn’t want to see the city invaded by Volsci, whoever was at their head. And what of her and Virgilia, and Little Caius? If the Volsci attacked, how safe would they be? A chill went through him as he wondered whether Caius blamed his family for what had happened to him. Did he truly not care if they were killed by Volsci swords?

  No, he couldn’t believe that. Caius would not see his own mother killed, Menenius was sure. But then, why had he not sent word for her to leave Rome? Why had he not warned them the Volsci and he were coming? Menenius closed his eyes. The feeble light from the oil lamp was wearying his eyes and he decided to go to bed. His dreams were full of Caius. Caius was always covered in blood, and somehow, Menenius knew it wasn’t his own.

  Tullus strode into the tent, two cups held in one hand, a jug slopping wine in the other. ‘I won’t have you skulking in here alone, Marcius,’ he cried. ‘Come outside. We must celebrate.’

  Caius grinned half-heartedly. ‘You go. I’d rather stay here.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Tullus asked, setting down the cups and jug. ‘You’re not wounded, are you?’

  ‘No,’ Caius shook his head. ‘I just... I am not in the mood for celebrations.’

  ‘But we’ve won a great victory.’

  ‘We’ve won many great victories.’

  ‘And you’ve always joined the men before,’ Tullus pointed out, raising an eyebrow. ‘It’s expected, Marcius. At least, it is with the Volsci.’

  Caius heard the criticism in Tullus’s voice.

  ‘I know what it is,’ Tullus continued, waggling his finger at Caius. ‘It’s Rome. You’re having second thoughts. I’m right, aren’t I?’

  ‘We will attack Rome next,’ Caius said. ‘That hasn’t changed.’

  ‘Your family?’

  Caius sighed. In some ways, it was a pleasure to be so easily understood; in others, irritating. ‘They are on my mind,’ he confessed.

  ‘Of course they are,’ Tullus nodded. ‘They’d be on my mind too. But,’ he held up his finger, ‘I wouldn’t change my plans.’

  ‘I’ve told you, we will attack Rome,’ Caius said irritably. ‘Rome has this coming. Nothing will stop me.’

  ‘Good. You realise I can’t guarantee your family will be safe? I’ll give the order your domus is not to be touched, but if your family are in the streets, then…’, Tullus gestured helplessly.

  ‘I know,’ Caius nodded and reached out his hand to touch Tullus. ‘I’m grateful.’ They both turned as the tent flap was opened and Tullus’s friend, Virius, entered.

  ‘Marcius,’ Virius said, ‘come out. Five more amphorae have arrived and you haven’t had a cup yet.’

  Tullus shook his head at his friend. ‘Marcius has no thirst for wine, Virius.’

  ‘But we can’t have a celebration without you, Marcius,’ Virius persisted. ‘We might not have had a victory at all if it wasn’t for you.’

  It was gratifying to hear a Volsci speak so, but Caius glanced at Tullus as Virius finished and noted the tightening of his friend’s thin lips. As much as he would like Virius’s words to be true, Caius had to admit Tullus deserved equal credit for their success. ‘Both Tullus and the god Mars fight by my side, Virius.’

  ‘I’m thankful for it,’ Virius laughed. ‘I wouldn’t fancy attacking Rome if they didn’t.’

  ‘We could take Rome without Marcius,’ Tullus declared irritably.

  Virius glanced at Tullus, surprised by his tone. ‘Aye, Tullus, but let us speak truth. We wouldn’t be trying if it wasn’t for Marcius.’

  Tullus turned on Virius, ready for an argument, and Caius, eager to avoid one, rose to intercede. He stepped up to Virius and touched his shoulder. ‘We’ll be out in a moment.’

  Virius nodded, shot a resentful glance at Tullus, and departed.

  Caius turned to Tullus, who was grinding his teeth and staring at the tent flap where Virius had exited. ‘We’ve done this together, my friend.’

  Tullus turned his furious glare on him. ‘I bloody know we have,’ he growled, and stormed out of the tent.

  Menenius had never seen so many frightened men in one room before. The senators have reason to be scared, he thought ruefully. I’m scared too. We all know Caius is coming.

  The Volsci had conquered Lavinium the month before and the Senate had received reports that they had set up their camp at Fossae Cluiliae, the huge trench dug two hundred years before by the Alba Longa tribe, only five miles from Rome. The gossip going round the city was that if you climbed to the top of one of Rome’s seven hills, you’d be able to see the Volsci camp.

  ‘We have to stop talking about this and do something,’ Decius Buccio declared earnestly. ‘The Volsci are going to attack any day now. The plebs are refusing to fight and we have no way of defending ourselves.’

  ‘What do you suggest we do?’ Mettius asked.

  ‘Treat with them. There is nothing else we can do. We must go to Marcius and ask him to see reason.’

  ‘Reason? From Marcius?’ Mettius said, his eyebrows rising to his hairline.

  ‘Even Marcius must be able to see reason,’ Decius said. ‘He wants to return to Rome, yes? So, we offer to lift his banishment.’

  It was no good, Menenius said to himself, I shall have to speak up. They still think there is hope this affair can be easily settled by our magnanimity. ‘I think we’re beyond the question of Marcius’s banishment,’ he said. All the senators turned to look at him. ‘I have been like a father to Marcius since Caecilius died. I know him probably better than he knows himself and I can say with some certainty that Marcius does not just want to return to Rome. He wants to punish Rome.’

  ‘You should go to him,’ Decius said, a tremble in his voice. ‘You said it yourself, you were as a father to him. He will listen to you. Tell him the banishment is lifted.’

  Menenius opened his mouth to protest, but no words came. The thought was horrifying. He didn’t want to face Caius and plead with him for his life and the life of everyone in Rome. ‘He may not listen to me,’ he managed to say at last.

  ‘You must try,’ Decius insisted. ‘Cominius,’ he said, catching sight of him standing near the entrance, ‘you too. You have fought together. You’re his friend.’

  ‘I was, once,’ Cominius said doubtfully.

  ‘It’s enough,’ Decius said, nodding eagerly. He looked around at his fellow senators for their agreement and they nodded back, just as eager.

  Menenius looked at Cominius, who shrugged one shoulder as if to say they had nothing to lose by trying.

  ‘Very well,’ Menenius said, ‘Cominius and I will go to the Volsci camp. But we’re not promising anything.’

  Caius had known they would come. As much as Rome liked to fight, she also liked to preserve what she believed she owned, and he knew the Senate would always try diplomacy before resorting to force.

  He had prepared well for the deputation from Rome. He had dressed with care, shaved and had chosen his seat to be set on a slight mound so that he would be higher than the Roman envoys standing before him. He had also ordered some of the Volsci to stand with him so the Romans would see the kind of authority he had over them.

  But where was the pleasure? Caius wondered as the envoys approached. He should be feeling joy at their reversals of fortune, not this nagging sense of unease.

  His anxiety increased as the envoys drew nearer and Caius could see their faces. Why, he cursed himself, had he not foreseen that the Senate would send Menenius and Cominius to treat with him? He should have known the Senate would try this trick, trying to use sentiment to force him into turning the Volscian army around. They were fools if they thought that would work. Menenius and Cominius were nothing to him now. Neither of them had spoken for him when he was banished. They had let him leave Rome alone. They could have offered to go with him, to share that burden, and so demonstrate to w
hom they were most loyal, but no. Both had shown they cared more for themselves than he. And so, the Senate had achieved nothing by sending them to treat with him. Nothing was going to sway him from the course he had set himself upon. He had sworn to the gods, and to Tullus, he would destroy Rome and destroy Rome he would.

  ‘Do you know them?’ Tullus murmured in his ear.

  Caius nodded. ‘I know them.’

  Menenius looks older, he thought as they came to a halt before him. His eyes seemed sunken and the lines around his mouth had deepened. Cominius wasn’t much altered, save for the anxious expression on his face.

  ‘It’s good to see you, Caius,’ Menenius said uncertainly, his eyes lingering on Tullus standing by Caius’s side. ‘It’s been a while.’

  ‘It has,’ Caius said, not wanting to waste time on pleasantries. ‘Why have you come?’

  ‘We are here, Caius, to invite you back to Rome.’

  ‘There’s no need for an invitation. I will be coming to Rome very soon.’

  ‘We mean,’ Cominius said hurriedly, ‘you can come home. The Senate have lifted the banishment.’

  ‘Of course they have,’ Tullus laughed. He waved his hand at Cominius and Menenius. ‘Caius, tell these fools to go back to Rome.’

  Caius acknowledged his words with the slightest inclination of his head, keeping his eyes on Menenius. ‘Is that all?’ he asked. ‘The banishment is lifted?’

  ‘What more do you want?’ Cominius asked.

  ‘For the Senate to acknowledge their mistreatment of me, for one thing.’

  ‘Well, I am sure they would be willing to make a public statement to that effect,’ Menenius said.

  ‘And what else?’

  ‘What more do you want, Caius?’

  Caius raised his chin. ‘Something the Senate cannot give me.’

  ‘What is that?’

  ‘Revenge. You know me, Menenius. Would you say I am a forgiving kind of man?’

  Menenius sighed. ‘No, Caius, I would not say that.’

  ‘So, why do you think you can persuade me to do the Senate’s bidding?’

  ‘I didn’t want to. To tell the truth, it was the last thing I wanted, to come here and plead with you, Caius. I knew it would be pointless but the Senate would have it so.’ He shrugged and held his hands open. ‘Is there nothing I can say that will move you to think kindly on us?’

  His honesty and sad expression made Caius pause. Tullus glanced down at him, wondering why he was silent. He decided to speak.

  ‘Rome can be saved,’ he said.

  Menenius’s gaze shifted to Tullus. ‘How?’

  ‘If Rome were to restore all the Volscian territories she has taken and to give the Volsci the same rights she has granted the other Latin tribes, then we will not attack.’

  ‘The same rights as the other tribes?’ Menenius blurted. ‘But the Volsci have been considerably more trouble to Rome than they have been. The other tribes have made treaties with us.’

  ‘You mean they’ve capitulated,’ Tullus scoffed. ‘The Volsci have been ready to defend and protect what is ours.’

  ‘The Volsci have not been willing to talk with Rome,’ Menenius began heatedly, then held up his hands as Tullus opened his mouth to retort. ‘But I agree that these are terms I can take back to the Senate.’

  ‘Then go back,’ Tullus said, folding his arms, ‘and speak to your Senate. Tell them our terms. Then return and provide us with proof Rome has agreed to them.’

  ‘If they agree,’ Cominius said defiantly.

  ‘They’ll agree if they want to survive,’ Tullus said. ‘And quickly too. You tell them we’re not willing to wait forever for their answer. It won’t take you long to return to Rome. You meet with the Senate and you tell them that if you’re not back here before sundown with their answer, then we will attack tomorrow.’

  ‘Tomorrow!’ Menenius burst out in horror. ‘But we have to discuss this—’

  ‘Tomorrow,’ Tullus repeated with a grin.

  ‘Thirty days,’ Caius said suddenly.

  Tullus rounded on him. ‘What?’

  Caius waved him silent. ‘Tell the Senate you have thirty days to consider our terms. Tell the Senate they would be wise to agree to them because be assured, I will spare no one.’ He glared at Menenius. ‘No one.’

  He rose and strode away to his tent, leaving Tullus and the other Volsci staring after him.

  The Roman envoys had gone and Tullus could not hold in his anger any longer. He brushed aside the enquiries of his fellow soldiers and strode into Caius’s tent. ‘Why give them thirty days?’ he demanded.

  Caius was pouring himself a cup of wine. He didn’t look up. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because a lot can be done in thirty days, that’s why not,’ Tullus said, snatching the cup from Caius’s hands and throwing it to the ground. ‘The Romans can gather an army, build defences, appeal to the Latin tribes for help.’

  ‘Tullus, calm yourself. They won’t be able to gather an army,’ Caius said confidently. ‘The people are not with the Senate. They refuse to fight, they always refuse to fight. The defences are the walls of Rome; they’re already in place but we know their weak spots, thanks to me, and we know we can break through them. As for the tribes, they will not come to Rome’s aid. They are waiting to see what will happen, hedging their bets. We are a formidable enemy, Tullus.’

  ‘You say this with such certainty,’ Tullus said, shaking his head. ‘But you can’t know all this to be true.’

  ‘I can and do. Now, no more arguing, my friend. I’ve given Rome thirty days. It is done.’

  ‘And what are we to do in all that time?’ Tullus asked. ‘Just sit here and wait?’

  ‘No, we’ll seek out the allies of Rome and take their towns. Rome will have no one to appeal to. And then we will return to hear Rome’s answer. They will have no choice but to agree to our terms.’

  ‘I don’t like it.’

  ‘You don’t have to like it,’ Caius said carelessly, ‘you just have to do as I tell you.’

  Tullus stared at him. ‘Do as you tell me?’ he repeated incredulously.

  ‘I phrased that badly,’ Caius admitted. He held out his hand to Tullus. Tullus stared at it. ‘I should have said you will have to trust me about this. I told you I would restore the Volscian territories and I mean to make good on that promise.’

  ‘We will make good on that promise,’ Tullus said, taking his hand.

  ‘Yes,’ Caius said after a moment, ‘of course. We.’

  27

  Thirty days had passed and the Volscian army had returned to the countryside around Rome. As Caius had promised Tullus, Rome’s allies had quickly fallen beneath the Volscian onslaught, and it truly seemed that Rome had nowhere left to turn.

  Yet, despite this, the Senate refused to agree to Caius’s terms. They had simply too much to lose, they had claimed when Menenius and Cominius had returned from the Volscian camp and relayed the details of their meeting. Rome had been too successful in making treaties and conquering others, it seemed, for to undo all those trade treaties and give land back to the Volsci would ruin them as certainly as an enemy horde.

  Menenius could not blame them. He even admired them for deciding to take a stand against Caius and his newfound friends. But he doubted whether many of these senators, puffed up with pride for Rome, would be alive beyond the morrow. The Volsci would come and Caius would be at their head, and Menenius had no doubt that Caius would show no mercy.

  He wanted to be the one to tell Volumnia and Virgilia the news and so made his way to their domus. It was a longer than usual journey, for people kept stopping him to ask what the Senate had decided. They were scared. They could see the Volscian army, they cried, flinging their arms in the camp’s direction to illustrate their point, and begged Menenius to change the senators’ minds when he told them their answer. He had to shake his head and tell them he could do no more.

  Menenius reached the Marcius domus and stared up at it in dismay. Th
e front of the building was covered in graffiti. From the colour and smell, the graffiti was written in dung and blood. Curses, threats, insults — they were all there. He should not have been surprised, he supposed, as he stepped forward and banged on the door. The people couldn’t abuse Caius himself so they took their anger out on his women. He just hoped that none of the inmates had been subjected to any physical abuse.

  The shutter of the small window in the door opened a crack and Menenius saw two eyes staring out at him. ‘Who is it?’ the slave called.

  ‘Menenius Agrippa,’ he said, putting his mouth to the iron grate.

  The shutter closed and Menenius waited. He heard the bar being lifted on the other side of the door and it inched open. Sensing it was not going to be opened wide, Menenius twisted his body around the door and stepped inside.

  The slave quickly closed the door again, dropping the bar neatly in place. He jerked his head at Menenius and led him through the atrium to the room beyond. Volumnia was standing there, looking anxious.

  ‘I’m glad you’re here,’ she said, although to Menenius’s eyes, she didn’t look anything but afraid.

  He strode to her and grabbed hold of her hands. ‘You’ve had some trouble.’

  ‘Oh, the graffiti, yes. I haven’t seen it myself but the slaves tell me so. Should I have them clean it off?’

  He shook his head. ‘Best leave it for the moment.’

  ‘What’s been decided?’ she asked, leading him into the triclinium. ‘Oh, it’s bad news, isn’t it?’ Her hands went to her mouth as she searched his face.

  ‘The Senate have refused to concede to Caius’s terms. He and the Volsci are setting up their camp. They will attack soon.’

  ‘I don’t understand how Caius can do this,’ she cried. ‘Doesn’t he know how much this hurts me? Doesn’t he care?’