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”
