Historia Alium - Chapter 4

The Age of Apollo

1599 AUC

Galeria Postuma sat on a stool, watching Cilo do his work. It was light, airy and quiet in his courtyard, although the sounds of the city could still be heard. In one corner of the yard was a cart waiting to be collected, and in another was a half-finished bed. Here and there were hammers and saws, but Cilo was using a small chisel on the thin strip of wood. Galeria had spent much of the afternoon there, and was no longer paying attention to the work itself, but rather to Cilo and the earnest concentration in his eyes, and the beads of sweat trickling down his face only to become trapped in his stubble. Galeria was aware that she wasn’t the prettiest girl, with her small eyes, protruding chin and painfully skinny figure. It was slightly depressing to think that even if he came from a patrician family, or if she didn’t, he probably still wouldn’t make any advances.

“Tell me where you got this idea from again”, he said

“From a merchant from Sidon. He said the Arabs call it tarsh”

“Well, I think I’ve finished. Take a look”

As Galeria had asked, Cilo had chiseled away such that the letters seemed to spring up from the wood. The letters were larger than if they had been written, and they were backwards, as if reflected in water.

“Thank you, Cilo,” said Galeria with a quick embrace, “that’s perfect!”

She picked up the strip of wood and put some coins on the table.

“Don’t be surprised if I come back next week with the second page”, she said as she made for the door

“I’ll be waiting”, said Cilo with a wave

Galeria ran up the Caelian hill back to her house. There was a splendid view of the Consular Palace on the Palatine, and more importantly of the Circus Maximus in the valley below. She had been told that her father had loved the races, and would spend many an afternoon watching them from afar from their balcony.

Once inside she went straight to her room and laid the wood on the table. She got out the mixture of soot, glue and water that she had bought earlier and brushed it over the letters. Then she carefully laid a piece of cloth over it, got out another piece of wood and used it to firmly press down on the cloth, slowly moving up it. She peeled the cloth off and looked at the result. A lot of the writing was too blurry to be legible, but it was still recognisibly the first page of Archimedes’ volume ‘On the Equilibrium of Planes’, so Galeria was pleased. Perhaps the ink needs to be different, she thought.

“What are you doing?”

Galeria jumped. Her mother was standing in the doorway, looking down her sharp nose, her hands on the sides of her flabby waist.

“Just an experiment”, said Galeria

“You and your experiments. How am I ever going to get you married? Listen, had you heard that Tarquitius Caepio has returned?”

“Has he?”

“And a messenger’s just told me he wants to dine with us tonight, so get washed and get changed. You look even dirtier than usual”

“So you didn’t invite him?” asked Galeria, “He just decided to come and eat with us?”

“Well I can’t tell him to get stuffed, can I?”

An hour later, the family stood ready in the atrium. There was a kick at the door, which a slave opened. Tarquitius Caepio, wearing gleaming military uniform and a bushy beard, strode to the head of the household.

“Senator, it is a pleasure to see you again”

Galeria’s grandfather murmured something before asking, “Whose grain?”

Caepio ignored this and moved onto her brother.

“Young Galerius Camillus, how are you? And dear Marcella, I see you’re as ... voluptuous as ever”

“Behave yourself,” said her mother with a chuckle, “you can’t do what you like in Rome anymore”

“This must be Galeria. Do you remember me? I last saw you a decade ago, you must have been about nine or ten”

“Just about”, Galeria said sincerely

“Well, I’m famished. Let’s eat. I’m not going to apologise for barging in on you like this, by the way,” said Caepio as they went into the triclinium, “I am duty-bound to visit the family of my brother-in-arms as often as I can, to make sure you are all safe and prosperous”

“We are all very well, thank you,” said Marcella as they mounted the couches, “now tell us about Hispania. Did it go well?”

“It went as well as it could have done. Quite good fun. Life in the Senatorial legions these days is like sport. There’s one traitor,” he slapped one corner of the table loudly, “oh look, there’s another one over there”, he slapped another corner and laughed at his demonstration

“Who was it this time? Was it Atellus?” asked Marcella

“That’s right, Atellus, self-appointed dictator of Hispania,” said Caepio, “a strange creature. Last month our armies met not far from Tarraco. We had a great time listening to his speech to his troops before the battle. There was the usual guff about how corrupt and depraved the Republic is – well, everyone knows the Republic isn’t depraved enough! He talked about how we had forced mob-rule on the poor provincials who don’t even understand what voting is – I’m sure that played well with his Hispanic auxiliaries. Then he went and promised that all single men in his army would receive a beautiful bride, if they won the battle. We’d been chasing them for months, I’m sure they were all sex-starved. Still, I think most of them were rational enough to realise how ridiculous a promise that was. Where were these thousands of beautiful women going to come from? By this time some of my men were collapsing with laughter. I’m sure that persuaded more than a few of Atellus’ men that their dictator was grasping at straws. They understood that he wasn’t going to deliver the peace and order he had guaranteed them.

“Anyway, about half an hour into the battle, Atellus’ infantry are faltering. One of my centuries breaks through their lines. Atellus decides to send in all his cavalry, including himself, to push back that century. Not the smartest move. I send in my cavalry around his flanks to deal with his archers, and now he’s completely surrounded. I enter the fray, hoping to find and fight the creature, but within minutes they’ve all surrendered. The battle’s over.

“I find Atellus sitting on the ground next to his dead horse, seemingly deep in thought. He sees me coming, stands up and asks me to kill him. I say, you’ve still got your sword, haven’t you? Do it yourself. But he refuses”

“Why?” asked Marcella, “Surely there’s no difference?”

“He didn’t want to die honourably, like Cato. Too Stoic. Too Republican. He wanted a glorious death. He was ambitious, but he’d lost, so his only hope was for historians to acknowledge that he didn’t concede defeat”

“And did you give him what he wanted?” asked Camillus

“No, I brought him back with me. Romans killing Romans, it’s a terrible business. Such a waste. But being at each others’ throats is all we’ve known. What we need is a good war with some barbarians”

“Did you bring your legions back with you as well?” asked Camillus  

“One remains in Hispania, but the rest returned with me. They needed a break, before the next hubris-addled fool springs up. They’ll be with friends, family, favourite whores or whoever for a few weeks, then reform at the martial camp outside Ostia”

“And assuming another war hasn’t started in that time, then what?” asked Camillus, “You’re not angling for political office, by any chance?”

“What makes you say that, young man?” asked Caepio

“Maybe you’re not aware of it, but you’re famous here. I hear the plebs call you the hero of the Republic. And I suppose, your loyal legions being a day’s march away from Rome ... makes an impression”

Caepio chuckled, “I don’t want to enter politics. I’ve heard too many tales of soldiers who’ve thought they could conquer the political world, only to find they’re about as fearsome as a fresh recruit. War without bloodshed. It’s almost unnatural. I also hear the company is excruciatingly dull – present company excepted, of course”

Caepio gestured to the senator, who had already fallen asleep.

“And how’s your career progressing, Camillus? What’s your title?”

“Junior official at the department of agriculture”

“Ah, the ever-expanding bureaucracy”, said Caepio with a hint of exasperation

“The Empire is an unimaginably complex beast,” said Camillus, “if it’s going to survive it needs to be well organised. For instance, potatoes”

He pointed to the bowl of spiced boiled potatoes on the table.

“A century ago, you’d be hard-pressed to find one. But trade with the Maia has increased, and plenty of famers in Europe have started growing potatoes. They’re resilient and nutritious, and consequently the population of the Empire has been growing. And more people means more complexity for the State to oversee”

“True, but I’m still wary of you bureaucrats. You want to micromanage everything, and you convince yourselves that you know what’s best for people. Where did you get the silly idea of banning orgies? Or banning the Saturnalia, for that matter? The one day a year we treat our loyal slaves with respect,” Caepio gestured to the half-dozen slaves standing to attention around the room, who shifted awkwardly on their feet, “and you ban it. Who would have thought Rome would become a city full of Stoics. Next you’ll be banning wine”

“Those things are perverse and subversive to the State and to the natural order of the world,” said Camillus, “if you’re so skeptical of the Republic’s policies, some people might doubt your commitment to the founding principles of th-“

“Listen boy, I’m more committed to the Republic than you’ll ever be. I was a boy when Rutilus brought the Republic back. When they gave the provincials the right to vote for their own tribunes, but our vassals refused, I joined the army. I was a centurion under the command of Dentatus, as was your father, may he rest in Elysium, at the battle of Potentia against the monster Pansa who wanted to demolish the Republic and install himself as Emperor. Thanks to the Republic, the Empire regained its strength. But now I see a syphilis-riddled Senate – even one of our wise Consuls has been taken ill – who have had to hand over more and more responsibilities to the bureaucracy, with their hare-brained schemes and total lack of ... inspiration”

“So, we should read more poetry?” asked Camillus with a smirk

“Maybe you should. Atellus and all the other generals and soldiers who have turned their back on Rome, they didn’t do it because they’re simply greedy and malicious. Men need an inspiring leader, they need their pride, they need to be great men doing great deeds, and that will be the case whether the Republic acknowledges and uses it or not. Ever since Emperor Trajan abandoned Mesopotamia seven hundred years ago, Rome’s been lurching from crisis to crisis. We’ve become too focused on merely getting by. What we need is a rebirth”

“And how do you propose we reinstate Rome’s greatness and glory?” asked Camillus

There was a pause as Caepio considered his reply, but Galeria beat him to it.

“Engineering”, she said

“Juno above”, said Marcella, looking skyward

“Engineering’s how Rome forged an empire,” continued Galeria, “I mean, of course there were the sacrifices of countless brave soldiers, but they used complex equipment like arcuballistas developed by military engineers. And once we conquered a place, we built infrastructure to make the locals happier and gigantic temples and arenas to fill them with awe. It’s our engineering skills that separate us from barbarians, that’s our backbone, and if we want Rome to be great again, that’s what we should use”

“I apologise, Caepio,” said Marcella, “my daughter sometimes forgets what it means to be a woman”

“No, she’s right,” said Caepio, “but engineers don’t grow on trees”

“No, but we could look harder for them,” continued Galeria, “what if each province gave every child with Roman citizenship an education in mathematics and mechanics?”

“How on earth would some plebeian child, who would spend the rest of his life as a farmer or a soldier, use mathematics?” asked Marcella

“He might not, but that way we could find people who excelled, who showed promise, who came up with new ideas. It would be like sifting for gold”

“It would piss off too many people,” said Camillus, “estate-holders wouldn’t like the children of their serfs being forced not to work. Their incomes would go down”

Galeria ignored her brother, “Then with the people who excel, we can send them to places where they can learn more, work with other intellects and research better techniques with the Republic’s backing. Before long, we’ll have legions of brilliant engineers and better ways to build aqueducts and kill barbarians”

“That’s a good idea, Galeria,” said Caepio, “but where are all the learned men to teach the children?”

There was an awkward silence as Galeria pondered.

“I don’t know. It was just an idea I had”

“Ah, I think we’ve talked enough about important things,” said Caepio, “have you bought any good-looking slaves recently, Camillus? Or are you too scared to shag your own property?”

***

Several weeks later, Galeria was sitting on the balcony above the atrium. The sun had set, but the clouds were still red, blanketing the view of the other six hills in sanguine light. Galeria had the fourth page of On the Equilibrium of Planes in front of her, and a piece of parchment on which she was copying it backwards. Having now mastered the mirror-alphabet, it wasn’t taking long. Camillus came out from inside.

“Good evening. Anything dramatic happen at the department of potatoes today?” asked Galeria with a smirk

“No, but did you hear what happened last night?”

Galeria sat up and shook her head.

“Another orgy”, said Camillus

“Another one?!”

“No orators or politicians this time, they were all senior military men. All caught trying to scarper just as the Apollonian Guard broke down the door. And just like last week, each man said he was invited there for a different reason. One said he expected a night of poetry, another a symposium on Zeno”

“All these scandals! Was Caepio there?” asked Galeria

“Maybe, not sure”

“I bet you and your colleagues are pretty happy, now there’s less attention on your superiors and their slip-up”

“No, we are not,” said Camillus with a frown, “it’s evidence of our failure to set Rome on the path of morality”

“They’re soldiers, they risk their lives for our safety, so what if they have a bit of fun once in a while?”

Camillus sighed, “I’m too tired for an argument, Galeria. I’ll see you in the morning”

“Sleep well”

Galeria went back to her writing. She could hear the sound of distant thunder. It slowly grew louder, until she looked up and inspected the sky to see where the storm was coming from. When she couldn’t see any suspiciously dark clouds, she listened more carefully. It wasn’t thunder at all, it was the shouts and screams of men, and the sound of iron clashing with iron. A trumpet sounded from the other side of the city. Galeria got up and stood at the edge of the balcony. Troops of soldiers, each with a torch, were scurrying through the streets to the south-western wall of the city. Galeria ran inside and ordered one of the slaves to get everyone out of their rooms.

“There’s a battle! There’s a battle!” she cried as she darted around the villa

“What are you yelling about?” asked her mother as she strode from her room, “By Juno, you look like you’ve seen a ghost”

“There’s a battle outside the walls”

“Get the emergency pigeon!” Marcella said to the nearest slave

The family gathered on the balcony. Every citizen and his dog seemed to be shouting out of his window, either in fear or in confusion. “In the name of Dis, what is going on? In the name of Dis?!” one of their neighbours was bellowing. The slave came with an almost perfectly white pigeon and a knife. Marcella took a hold of the bird with both hands, and looked to the rapidly darkening sky.

“Glorious Mars, father to the Roman people, bring swift victory to those who defend this holy city”

Marcella held the pigeon down on the floor and, with some commotion, severed its head. Seconds later, an ear-shattering boom rocked the city. Echoes reverberated around the hills. Galeria looked north: there was a cloud of dust and smoke atop the Esquiline hill. When it cleared a little, she saw that the Praetorian fort had been reduced to smoldering ruins. The city’s cacophony was replaced by silence.

“We need to barricade the door”, said Camillus

A few minutes later, Galeria and her mother and brother were in the atrium, watching the slaves strengthen the door with wooden barricades. Senator Galerius shuffled into the room with his walking stick in one hand and a sword in another. However he was too weak to hold it up and his arm shook and spasmed, making the sword look like an uncontrollable animal.

“A brave man may fall, but he cannot yield!” he cried as he slowly made his way towards the door

Marcella grabbed him, spun him around and pushed him away, “Get to your room, you mad old dog!”

Galeria went to her room as well, but after an hour of sitting on her bed, she came to the conclusion that she would only feel safe if she at least had an inkling of what was going on. She crept back up to the balcony, knelt on the floor and peeked over the balustrade. A small contingent of soldiers was marching up the road below. She jumped out of her skin when the commander shouted.

“Please stay indoors, good citizens. Peace and order has returned to Rome”

Apart from the occasional shout from a soldier, the city was deathly quiet. Anywhere else, this silence would be naturally calming, but in Rome, even in this supposed age of restraint, it was deeply disturbing. There were still some fires going around the remains of the Praetorian fort. Galeria watched as one by one they were put out, but before long she unconsciously slipped down onto the floor and closed her eyes.

***

Galeria awoke to the sound of knocking. She was still on the balcony, and was at first surprised that she was seeing clouds drifting lazily across the sky rather than her ceiling. One of the slaves had draped a blanket over her. The knocking sound was getting annoying, so she got up and looked for its source. On the street below there was a smartly dressed messenger, flanked by two guards, kicking on their door.

“Yes?” said Galeria

“I belong to the Leader of the Senate. The Senate is convening this morning, and Senator Galerius is summoned”

An hour later, Galeria and her mother helped the Senator into a litter, then reclined either side of him. Escorted by a dozen slaves, they made their way down the hill. The streets were busy with pedestrians, also making their way to the Forum. There was a murmur of excitement, as though daylight had transformed fear into curiosity.

The Forum was packed, a veritable sea of people broken only by arches, pillars, temples and two lines of soldiers down the middle who were making a clear path for the senatorial litters. The slaves came to a halt outside the Curia, and Galeria and Marcella helped the head of the family out, then held an arm each as they climbed the stairs to the entrance. Once he was inside, they went back down again and joined the families of the other senators who were gathered at the front of the vast throng. 

Then they waited. Galeria listened to the theories and speculations of the plebs behind them, each person considering themselves an expert in political affairs. The nobles, however, were much more tight-lipped – only the occasional furtive whisper. The absence of conversation began to make Galeria feel nervous, a feeling which only grew as the wait dragged on.

An hour after they arrived, the great doors opened and the city fell silent. A man wearing gleaming military uniform strode out. At first Galeria didn’t recognise him. Now he was smooth shaven, she could see how square his chin was.

“I should have known”, said Marcella, burying her face in her hands

“My name is Gaius Tarquitius Caepio. Let me reassure you that, thanks to my actions, the Republic is safe. Our noble Senators and bureaucrats have let the Republic crumble. This was because they did not fully appreciate one simple fact: that the Roman people are the greatest people the world has ever seen!”

“Flattery will get you everywhere”, said Marcella as the crowd behind them cheered

“Our precious Republic needs a leader to guide and protect it,” continued Caepio, “and today the Senate has graciously asked me to be sole Consul for life. I must shoulder this responsibility for the good of the empire, and so must every leader after me. After I am gone, the Senate must appoint another Consul for life, but it must not be one of my relations. I will make it sacred law that the Senate must wait at least a hundred years before appointing a Consul from the same family. And every year tribunes will still be elected across the empire. Power remains in the hands of the People!”

More cheers from the crowd, although somewhat half-hearted.

“The oldest trick in history,” muttered Marcella in Galeria’s ear, “putting some fat over a pile of bones”

“People of Rome, I have sad news for you, although all of you already know it deep in your souls. This city has lost sight of its purpose in the world. The gods themselves gave our ancestors the task of bringing the light of civilisation to barbarian lands and bringing peace to the world by uniting it under our rule. We are the Chosen People, because we excel at the art of ruling. Why do we squabble amongst ourselves when we have so much work to do? I am moved by a profound sorrow when I am reminded that our empire hasn’t expanded in seven centuries. That is why today I am declaring an end to the age of Hadrianus. We will take the fight to strange lands and remind the world how strong the People of Rome are!”

The Forum exploded with noise as jubilation swept through the crowd like a wave. Galeria joined in, jumping up and down and waving her arms, attracting some contemptuous glances from the stony-faced aristocrats around her. But Galeria didn’t care – Caepio was offering Rome something they couldn’t: pride.

***

“He’s an arrogant bastard. He’ll be toppled within the year, mark my words,” Marcella was saying, “the gods simply won’t allow him to stay in power”

“I think he’ll do what’s best for Rome,” said Galeria, “sometimes the offense is the best defense”

“That was the most ambiguous declaration of war the world’s ever known. Who are we going to fight? The Nubians? The Germans? The Arabs?”

Galeria sighed. Her conversations over dinner with her mother had become even more tiresome in the weeks following Caepio’s takeover.

“And what was all that about not having hereditary emperors?” continued Marcella, “Only a pleb could come up with that idea”

“He’s Consul for life, not emperor”

“Will you stop being so naive?”

“I thought you’d be happy, mother, that one of our friends has risen to the highest office. We’re one of the most important families in the city now”

Marcella’s face grew red, and Galeria braced herself for a torrent of anger.

“Your father died”, said Marcella quietly, her upper lip quivering and her eyes sparkling with held-back tears, “protecting this city from men like him. And that scoundrel has my only son fearing for his life”

“Camillus is fine,” said Galeria gently, “hiding in his room was hardly doing him any good. It’s just as well the Department ordered him to return to work”

“But what if it’s a trap? What if there were soldiers waiting for him in his office this morning?”

“Calm down mother, what Camillus and Caepio said to each other ... well, it was barely even an argument”

Camillus came into the triclinium, and before he could say anything, his mother had run over to him and embraced him as though he’d been away for years.

“Did anything happen, my little tomato?”

“Nothing happened, it was an ordinary day”, said Camillus, freeing himself from Marcella’s grip and mounting one of the couches

One of the slaves, a tall Dacian, burst into the room.

“Mistress, a servant of the Consul is at the door”

Camillus shrieked in a not-so-manly way, fell off the couch and scurried off to his room. The slave did a very good job of pretending to ignore his master’s departure.

“He says that the Consul wishes to speak with the young mistress this evening, and that he will escort her to the Palace”

Both mother and daughter were taken aback.

“Erm...” said Galeria after a few moments, “well I suppose I shouldn’t keep him waiting”

She went to her room, changed into her nicest stola and threw on a lime green shawl before a couple of slaves quickly did her hair and applied makeup. A few minutes later she went down to the atrium and into the sedan chair waiting on the street outside.

“Say nothing about Camillus!” cried Marcella after her as the slaves carrying the sedan chair and the guards set off down the street

They went down the hill to the Forum, then up the ceremonial road to the top of the Palatine. Galeria and her entourage stopped in the courtyard between the temple of Apollo and the Palace of Domitian. She followed the chief slave through the gigantic wooden doors into the entrance hall, where a dozen painters were transforming the old, austere style into the most vividly colourful room Galeria had ever seen. They went down a long corridor with pairs of soldiers standing to attention, and entered a hall with an enormous fresco of Romulus, Remus and the wolf on the far wall. Underneath it, sitting behind a mahogany desk, was Caepio. He looked up from what he was reading.

“Ah, young Galeria Postuma! Thank you so much for coming”

“Thank you for inviting me to the, I mean, your Palace”

Caepio drummed his fingers on the desk as he considered his next words.

“Did you know that I was an onion seller? When I was a boy?”

Galeria shook her head.

“I lived on the Aventine. After my mother died, I lived in a barrel behind a tavern. I may have picked a pocket once in a while, when I wanted to treat myself to some cheese or a cup of wine. I joined the army as soon as I could, where I met your father. Despite the fact he came from a senatorial family, and I came from the gutter, we became good friends. We recognised each other’s strength and honesty, and that’s all we needed.

“When I came to your house that night, and you were saying that we should educate everyone, even farmers, so the Empire can thrive, you reminded me of your father. I’m sure he would have agreed. If someone’s good at something, they need to do it, even if they’re scum from the Aventine. That’s how legions stay strong. It’s the same for empires”

Caepio studied Galeria’s expression, but she wasn’t sure what he was expecting and still didn’t understand why he had summoned her. She nodded politely in acknowledgment. The sole Consul for life stood up.

“Let me show you something”

She followed him out of the room and down the corridor. They went into a room as big as the hall they had just left, although this one had a bed and a mural of Morpheus holding a maiden in his arms, his wings casting a shadow over her. At the orders of Caepio two soldiers moved a mirror taller than a man away from the wall, revealing a simple wooden door. Caepio opened it – there was a dark tunnel Galeria could not see the end of. A shiver went down her spine, but she followed Caepio, who took a torch, into the shadows. Slowly but surely the tunnel was leading them downwards, seemingly into the very heart of the Palatine hill. The longer they walked, the more urgently Galeria wanted to know where they were going, but the more scared she was to ask. The least rational part of her mind, informed by stories told to her in her childhood, whispered that Caepio had found a way to the Underworld and that they were going to meet Dis any minute. Then Galeria saw some light ahead – there were four soldiers, three of whom were slumped on the ground.

“Wake up, you lazy cocksuckers!” Caepio barked, his order echoing down the tunnel, giving it an almost supernatural quality, “You’re guarding perhaps the most important room in the Empire’s history!”

“Yes sir! Sorry sir! Won’t happen again sir!”

Galeria noticed that they were indeed guarding a door, this one made of iron.

“Open it up”

With some effort one of the soldiers pushed it open, and Caepio invited Galeria inside. Gingerly she crossed the threshold. At first it was pitch black, but as Caepio came in with his torch, a host of flickering stars appeared. As the soldiers came in with their torches, alien shapes took form: barbaric-looking hunters, feathered serpents, tall pyramids, and all of it glistening like the summer sea. There were masks with strange, tattooed faces, stacks of plates with ornate sun motifs, idols wearing resplendent crowns. The mountains of gold filled the cavern. Galeria waded in and examined everything in reach.

“Thank Jupiter for the Maia!”

“Rome’s richer than we thought. The Stoics were holding us back,” said Caepio, “now, Galeria, I could use this to raise whole armies to defeat my enemies, within the Empire and without. That would be the sensible thing to do. That would be what every ruler of Rome before me would do. But Rome needs a change, and the Romans need to see that we’re entering a new age. Hiring learned and skilled men to teach the Empire’s youth will be expensive, but I think we can afford it”

Galeria turned to Caepio, her eyes wide with shock. Did he really mean...?

 “It’s a good idea, Galeria. Let’s use it to give Rome a second birth”