Act 2, Chapter 1 of The Ashes of Rome
“What will you do in Rome?” Garamaros asked.
I rode half drowsing, lulled by the summer sunshine and gentle breeze. I cocked an eyebrow at him.
“I mean, while I am wrenching a concession from the bastards to give us those damn Fabii so they can pay for their betrayal of the truce. With my wit and elocution guaranteeing my success, there’s little reason for you to even enter the city!”
“I’m here only to make sure you live up to the responsibility Brennus has entrusted us.”
“Bah, when did your sense of humor die?”
Belinus’s face flashed in my mind, and I heard again Brennus’s cry of loss echoing across the battlefield.
“Leave off, Gar,” Iestinus said from the other side. “Why must you ruin a perfectly good afternoon with your caterwauling?”
“Caterwauling?” Garamaros growled. “Why, I’ll have you know that the only reason I even came to this gods-forsaken land was that a certain noblewoman back home became so enamored of my voice that she sought to chain me and put me in a cage! No one can tame the fire that is Garamaros, so I came south to seek my fortune with you brave souls. Now, onward, to glory and death fitting of song!” He raised his fist and kicked his horse to a trot ahead of us for a moment.
“Does the dolt know that a ‘death fitting of song’ would mean that we’re unable to complete our mission? I for one have no desire to die a failure, but Garamaros can do as he likes,” Boudia growled as she rode past, dust from her mount billowing into Garamaros’s face and sending the man into a coughing fit.
“I’ll take the coughing over his endless prattle,” I said approvingly.
Ahead, the land sloped gently down, and the river followed. Things were wilder here, although the road was navigable, at least for now. I did not doubt that it would fail at some point, which was why we followed the Tiber River. Aruns had sworn it would lead directly to the city we sought, although he went to great pains to warn us about the Silva Cimina, the forest that stretched between Etruria and Roman lands. Straying too far into the forest could mean forfeiting our lives if we angered the spirits. Iestinus had laughed at that, but Garamaros had raised such a fuss that I told him we would not deviate from the river’s path unless absolutely necessary. After all, the mission was the only thing that mattered, and if the river route meant we got there faster, little else mattered.
That mission was simple: demand that the Romans hand the three Fabii over to us so that we might deal with them. It had been all we could do to prevent Brennus from coming himself. Even Garomaros knew that was asking for trouble. The man would march into the city and immediately demand blood payment. Boastful as he was, Garamaros probably had a better chance of actually succeeding, which is why Brennus ultimately saw the sense of our plan.
The journey down the Tiber was arduous, and we were pressed for time. We slept in the saddle when we could, while taking care to rest our mounts. It was not long before the forest began encroaching on us, pressing close all about, and often the road vanished, only to reappear later, like a ghost. We rode beside the river where possible, but frequently found ourselves forced into the trees. Garamaros, eyes wide and darting this way and that, watched for spirits. Strangely, it was I who saw them first.
We were two days out from Clusium and one more would see us to Rome. The forest had pulled back on our side of the river, giving us breathing space to travel in the sun. The road we had followed once more reappeared, although it was little more than a goat track, really, and lined here and there with guide stones. On our right, the land humped up into a forest-capped hill. A form at the edge of the woods caught my eye: a dark silhouette of what might have been a woman. No more than that did I see, but in my heart, I knew it was no mere illusion. Someone or something watched us. Not wanting to slow our progress, I said nothing to my companions.
The second time was that night as we prepared camp. The moon was hidden, and there was little point in endangering our mounts in the dark, so we built a small fire and settled in to wait for dawn. I took first watch while my companions slept. An hour or so beyond midnight, a sense of presence brought me to my feet, and my sword to my hand. It was the damndest thing: not so much the addition of something, but its lack. The small sounds of the night disappeared, and even the wind through the boughs held its breath.
“Talos,” a woman’s voice came to me from the surrounding dark.
“I am here, spirit or devil or whatever you are,” I answered. “Show yourself!”
There was a throaty chuckle, and the speaker coalesced from the shadows. Beneath a tangle of dark curls, fever-bright eyes glowed above a proud nose. Her mobile mouth quirked in a knowing smile. In one hand, she carried a crown made of broken spearheads. In the other, a carnyx. I knew her instantly: Clutoidā, The One Who Leads to Glory.
“Talos.” She said my name again, the ghost of a smile on her lips. “Well met, son of Senonos.”
I bowed before her. “Lady, why are you here in the land of the enemy?”
She laughed at that. “Where better? Renown can be won in many places, but few better than where the very spirits of the land are hostile.”
My heart quickened. “Will we then have the chance to win glory for ourselves?”
“Assuredly, but that is not my business this night. If you wish to live long enough to win your glory, heed my words: eat nothing while in Romulus’s city and let no wine pass your lips.”
“Poison?”
She nodded her head, curls bouncing in the light of our small fire.
“The cowards,” I muttered.
“Some are cowards. Others are brave. Many hands are raised against you in that city of stone, but all bear you ill will.”
I bowed my head again. “It shall be as you say.” When I opened my eyes again, she was gone.
✸✸✸
“We entreat you; nay, we demand justice! What will become of Rome if her enemies and allies alike deem her honorless? How will you survive if your gods spurn you for this betrayal? The Fabii are a blot upon your city, a pestilence unto Rome’s people! Give us justice! Give us the Fabii!” Garamaros finished his speech with a flourish and a bow.
Murmurs and mutterings raced through the assembly. More than a few fists were raised, not toward us, but toward a man in his later years seated foremost among the gathered senators.
I kicked Iestinus’s foot. “That must be the father, Marcus Fabius Ambustus. I can see the resemblance to that murderer, Quintus.”
Iestinus grunted but was more interested in studying the assembled Roman senators. Clad in white togas and mostly clean-shaven, they were a strange sight. I could not help but watch as they argued with one another over the fate of their countrymen. There was an air of anger here; something deeper than three men betraying their trust before the gods. That was good. It seemed the Senate’s sentiments were in our favor, which hopefully meant that we could return to Brennus having successfully concluded our mission.
A boy approached and beckoned us to follow him. Apparently, we were dismissed for now. I had to assume they would summon us when they had reached a decision, but how long might we wait? Already, the place wore on me; cold stone underfoot and nothing around but more of the same. I longed for the feel of the earth beneath me and the forest-scented breeze in my nostrils. The boy showed us to a chamber that boasted several couches. Food was laid out for us: roasted meat, some sort of porridge, fresh vegetables, eggs, figs, and cheese. I spotted several amphorae of wine, too. My stomach tightened as I recalled Clutoidā’s warning. A handful of young men and women whom I took to be servants stood by, ostensibly to serve us.
Garamaros wasted little time sitting on one of the couches, although he spurned the cushions. One of the servants giggled, and he shot the woman a look. She laughed. “Not like that. Have you no manners? You must lie down to eat.”
“Lie down?” Garamaros was clearly surprised.
The servant chuckled again. “All civilized people lie down to eat, even the Etruscans. Do you not do so in your own lands?”
“Never!” Garamaros looked from the young woman to the couch and then lay down on his back. “Like this?”
That brought laughter from several of the servants. “No, no. Let me show you,” the woman said. Garamaros made to rise, but she gently restrained him. “Lie like this,” she sat on the couch and then reclined on her side, propping herself up with an elbow while letting her body press against his. Garamaros’s face flushed red, and I chuckled. “Now, move onto your side,” she advised. Garamaros did so, his face flushing even redder. She gave a little wiggle. “Now, isn’t that better?” Garamaros only nodded as she took his arm from behind her and set it around her waist.
“Imagine, Garamaros at a loss for words!” Boudia laughed. She too took a seat on a couch, but when a handsome young man tried to demonstrate the proper way of lying down, she drew her dagger. “Come any closer, and I’ll stick this someplace very uncomfortable.”
With a look of horror, the young man beat a hasty retreat. Boudia’s grin was malicious to say the least.
“We need no servants,” I said to the room at large. “We’re more than capable of serving ourselves and—” I shot a look at Garamaros, “we need to confer with one another.”
“But our master gave us strict orders that you were to eat and drink and refresh yourselves in all the ways you deem good,” one of the female servants said, looking up at me through kohl-darkened lashes.
“And who is your master?” I asked, suddenly very interested. Perhaps the intensity of my gaze or tone warned her off, but she backpedaled almost immediately.
“He asked that we not speak his name, but if you wish to be alone, it shall be as you say,” she replied quickly, gesturing for the others to leave.
Garamaros tried to hold onto the woman sharing his couch, but she deftly slid out of his embrace, leaving his arms wrapped around empty air. “Perhaps another time,” she said with what sounded like a trace of genuine regret.
“Why rob us of any chance of a little fun in this place?” Garamaros asked once the Romans had left.
“Do not eat or drink any of this,” I told them all, ignoring Garamaros’s question.
“What, why?” Iestinus stopped with a morsel of meat halfway to his mouth.
“Clutoidā warned me not to. She said many hands were raised against us here and that we should trust no one and nothing.”
They all stared at me as if I had suddenly grown horns in front of them. Regretting that I had not done so earlier, I sketched out my encounter that night in camp. When I finished, Iestinus let out a low, long whistle. “Beloved of the gods, are you? Now you’ll never let us forget it!”
Boudia laughed. “Just wait until I tell Catta about your late-night visitor! You’d best hope Clutoidā is keeping a close eye on you so she can intervene on your behalf.”
I could well imagine Catta’s reaction to that particular news. “Perhaps we should keep this little bit of information to ourselves,” I suggested. Boudia just laughed harder.
The arrival of a messenger spared me further humiliation.
“You’ve been summoned,” he said.
“They’ve arrived at a decision already?” Garamaros asked eagerly.
“How could they not? Now we can get back to Clusium. Hopefully, we haven’t missed all the fun,” Boudia replied.
“I suppose we’ll have to keep the brothers alive on the return trip?” Iestinus asked, fingering his dagger.
I shook my head. “If they’re not, you can bet our lives will be forfeit. You think Brennus would look kindly on us taking justice out of his hands?” I motioned for them to follow the messenger, and we all filed out.
The Senate was strangely hushed as we entered. Some of the senators refused to meet my gaze. Others stared with open hostility. I wondered what had happened to make such a drastic change in demeanor. Then the boys’ father looked me in the eye and smiled smugly, and I knew.
Once we had taken our places, the princeps senatus stood and cleared his throat. “Honored emissaries from the north, we have deliberated long and hard. Many among us argued in favor of your charge that the three Fabii did disgrace their city and their family name by disregarding the law of nations. However, it is the decision of this august body that they shall not be handed over to you for trial…” He trailed off for a moment, and it was only after a stern look from the elder Ambustus that he continued. “They shall not be handed over for trial but shall assume the honored role of consular tribune and aid in commanding the armies of Rome!” he finished loudly.
My companions erupted immediately. I had to stop Boudia from rushing at the speaker. Garamaros tried to say something, but I touched his arm and he stilled.
“This is your answer, then?” I shouted, not bothering to hide my disgust. “Not only will you willingly harbor these vermin in your city, but you grant them honors? You put them in positions of authority?” To their credit, many of the senators looked at the ceiling or floor rather than at me. I understood then that this was not truly a vote by the assembled representatives, but a power play on the part of the pontifex maximus, the boys’ father.
“It—” the princeps senatus began, but the elder Ambustus rose and cut him off with a wave of his hand.
“Yes, barbarian, that is our answer,” he snarled. “You can run back to your little master now, tail between your legs. Do not linger, lest you feel the sting of Roman javelins! You shall have neither my sons nor the satisfaction you seem to think is your right.” He spat on the floor in front of me.
I turned on my heel and left, my companions beside me.
✸✸✸
“The fools have chosen war, then,” Brennus said. His voice was calm, but I could almost feel the rage rolling off his body in waves. He clenched and unclenched his fists, and a vein beside his eye throbbed visibly.
We stood in what remained of a farro field not far from Clusium’s gate, most of our forces surrounding us, eager for our news. The return journey had been swift and uneventful. What took us three days to traverse going south required only two days returning. It was as if our urgency had communicated itself to our mounts, or that some agency other than our own eased our passage. We had come straight to Brennus to give him our report.
“Bring me Aruns,” Brennus growled.
A moment later, someone shoved the hapless Clusian through the crowd.
“What is the meaning of this?” Aruns demanded, his eyes wide and breathing rapid.
Brennus drew his sword and pointed it at the man. “Just this: we are done here.” He advanced, sword tip unwavering until it touched the Clusian’s breast. Aruns’s eyes grew wider, and he would have fled if Urus had not held him in place. “We are done with you. We have paid in Senone blood with naught to show for it but betrayal at the hands of your Roman ‘negotiators’. So, Aruns, I say that our contract is finished. If you want vengeance on Lucomo, find it yourself.” He turned and began walking toward the city.
When he was within earshot, he stopped and held his sword aloft. The blade caught the light of the setting sun, setting it aflame, although to me it looked like blood. “Hear me, citizens of Clusium! We are leaving! Our quarrel is now with Rome; you have nothing to fear from the Senones.” He turned and beheld our gathered host, tens of thousands of angry warriors, and his smile was as red as his sword blade. “My kinfolk, we march south,” he shouted. “We march to war! We march to Rome and her ruin!”
A thunderous roar of approval rent the air such that the very gods must have quailed to hear it.
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