Death of the Republic

By Anthony Fielek

What do you do when the government you have been taught to trust appears to be more interested in enriching itself and to secure its own position as Roman Republic begins to disintegrate.

This is a historical novel about a young roman plebeian boy seeking justice for his family in the fog of avarice, deceit, doubling dealing, corruption and bloodshed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 12, 2015
• ISBN: 9781514423370

Book preview

Copyright © 2015 by Anthony Fielek.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2015918309

ISBN:      Hardcover   978-1-5144-2339-4

                Softcover     978-1-5144-2338-7

                eBook           978-1-5144-2337-0

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 01/29/2016

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CONTENTS

Chapter I The Family

Chapter II The Education of Marcus

Chapter III Life Lesson

Chapter IV Unexpected Storm

Chapter V The Journey

Chapter VI Rome

Chapter VII Contact

Chapter VIII New Business

Chapter IX Danger from Competitors

Chapter X Cupid's Arrow and Danger

Chapter XI Another Opportunity

Chapter XII Restitution

Characters and Place Names

CHAPTER I

The Family

M arcus! Marcus! Where are you? I know you're here somewhere.

The call broke Marcus out of his daydream.

He had been sitting below the ancient bridge daydreaming and tossing pebbles into the turgid, slow-moving water and listening to the croaking of frogs and calls of the wild birds in the reeds.

It was his older brother, Lucius. He was three years older than Marcus, was taller by about four inches, and had a very stocky build. He looked very much like a younger version of his father.

If you don't come home right now, Papa will cane you again. That is, after I beat your backside. Lucius was only three years older than Marcus, but he lorded it over him like a centurion.

His father, Aulus, had been a centurion with twenty-five years of service with the legions. He had made the situation with Lucius somewhat worse because he had nicknamed Lucius Optio, which in the legion is the second-in-command of a centurion. Since Lucius was his oldest son, he would inherit his position and property; he was second-in-command.

Aulus, having been a long-serving legionnaire, felt that to survive, a man must be able to protect himself and be able to take anything that life would deal out. He had been working with Lucius on boxing and hand combat skills. Unfortunately, when Lucius felt he needed some practice or he was frustrated, he would use Marcus as a convenient punching bag.

Marcus frequently had a black eye or a dirty, torn tunic. When Marcus went to his father, he received little sympathy. If anything, Father would berate Lucius about tearing or getting Marcus's tunic dirty. Marcus's bumps and bruises would heal, and it would be a good experience for him.

Marcus didn't answer his brother. He knew his brother would not look for him down here because he might get mud on his sandals and tunic. In a few minutes, he would go home and report that Marcus was running away.

Marcus knew he could track his brother home without him even knowing. Marcus had learned to go through the fields and wood line without leaving a sign. He had tracked his older brother when he would sneak off to a nearby farm to visit his girlfriend there.

Lucius would sneak off to the farmstead and wait near the haystack area. Soon, a young girl would come back to this area. Then they would roll around in the hay, laughing and carrying on. Marcus could not see what they were up to. He could not ask anyone. So he decided to keep it his secret. Maybe he would ask Milo when he got a chance.

The bridge he was sitting under was very old and crumbling. It had been built hundreds of years ago by the Etruscans. The Etruscans had ruled this area---and Rome, for that matter---for hundreds of years until the Romans had overthrown them. The Etruscans had built a ceremonial processional road over this corner of his father's farm. It crossed the stream at this bridge and continued up a nearby hill to a temple. The temple had been erected to honor one of their gods in thanks for a victory over the local tribes.

After the Romans had displaced the Etruscans, the temple had been abandoned. It had been mined by the local Romans for building materials and had been reduced to a ruin. In fact, his father had dug up and used some of the stones from the ruin to build part of the foundation for their house. This is where they found one of the Lares (family-protective spirit statues)---in the vestibule of their house. The only visitors were occasional fugitive slaves, wanderers, and the local boys. The boys would congregate there and conduct mock battles and King of the Hill contests.

The bridge still stood there. No one used the path. It could hardly be seen in the grass and weeds that overgrew it. The bridge itself was virtually hidden by the growth of trees that grew along the banks of the stream. The bridge was covered with writing carved into the building blocks in a language that no one knew how to read. Some of the writing was virtually erased by time and by local boys throwing rocks at it over the centuries. No one came lately except Marcus.

The abutments at the end of the bridge had walls that formed a hidden space under the bridge that could not be seen unless one got under the bridge. There was a raised platform that made it high and dry.

When Marcus had first discovered this space, there were signs that there had been several small camp fires set up there sometime in the past. He often wondered who these people were and where they went. But there had been no one there recently.

Marcus decided it was time to go. He stuck his head out from under the bridge and looked around. No one was there. He walked along the bank of the stream under the trees that shielded him. He continued along the tree line until he came to the end of his father's north field. Then he turned toward home.

At the other end of the field, he could see Milo the Gaul. Milo was different than most of the other tall, blond Gallic slaves Marcus had seen. Milo was only about an inch taller than Marcus and had dark hair. Milo was a slave that Father had brought back with him as part of his booty. He had been there for over ten years. Father had kept him and brought him there because Milo was a farmer and knew more about agriculture and especially starting and growing grapes than anyone at the farm or in the area.

Marcus, you may be in trouble! Milo shouted and waved Marcus over.

As he got closer, Milo said, Your brother has been through twice looking for you. On top of that, your father asked me to make him a new vine staff because he has broken his old one. A vine staff was a twisted bundle of grapevine trimmings. In the legions, the centurions carried them as a sign of their status, and they also frequently used them to make a point of order or discipline with any of the legionnaires in their command whenever he deemed they needed it. Marcus had already felt the vine staff on his backside, and he was not looking forward to it again.

Marcus shrugged his shoulders and said, I had better get up to the house. It's almost time for supper anyway. But remember, you were supposed to show me how to move across an open field at night without being noticed or falling into pits and traps.

Milo had been a scout and a skirmisher when he had been with the Gallic tribal army. Because he was small and wiry, he had frequently been sent ahead to determine the position of the enemy and what their enemy was up to. He could move quickly across territory even at night. He told Marcus that this was a skill that could be learned and would be useful even to a Roman.

Milo, I have a question to ask. Promise you won't tell anyone. I was following my brother last night, using some of the tips you have already given me. He never saw me. He met with a girl from the Andonni farm at the haystacks. They rolled around and carried on for a while. I could not see what they were doing. Do you have any idea what they were up to?

Milo looked at Marcus quizzically and thought, I had better talk to Aulus and Verina about the boy. He is certainly old enough.

He said, It's a bit complicated to explain now. You had better get home, and we will talk later.

Marcus turned toward the homestead and started to trudge up the hill. He was wondering why he was being called home for the evening meal early. He had been planning on getting there at the normal time for dinner. Normal time for the evening meal was in the seventh hour, and it was only going to be the sixth hour. The last time he was late, his father had applied the vine staff to his backside, and he was not looking forward to that happening again.

As he rounded the corner of the outbuilding, he noticed that there were two large wagons and several men in front of the house. What in the world could that be?

Whomp! Marcus felt a great pain across his upper back, and he was knocked to the ground. When Marcus was able to roll over, there was his brother, Lucius, standing over him.

Where have you been, you worthless midget? I have been looking for you for the last hour, and now Father is upset that I can't find you.

Lucius grabbed Marcus by the front of his tunic and pulled him off the ground and proceeded to punch him a few times.

Stop that! Stop hitting Marcus---you will hurt him and get him dirty.

It was Verina. Verina was a slave Marcus's father had bought when Marcus's mother was having a difficult pregnancy. Marcus's mother died soon after Marcus's birth. Verina had been Marcus's wet nurse since his mother's death and basically acted as his mother since his birth. She had looked after him and had frequently spoken up for Marcus with his father.

Lucas dropped his brother and gave him a kick and then walked off muttering. He might have argued with Verina because she was a slave and he was the son of the master of the house. But he knew it would do no good; Verina always stood up to him. He knew that his father was very fond of Verina for a number of reasons, not the least of which was that his father slept with her. Although she was a slave, she basically was recognized as the woman of the house and did all the things that the normal wife of the master would do.

Marcus! Get up, dust yourself off, and wash your face and your legs. You are wanted for dinner at the house right now.

What is going on? Who are those people in front of the house?

Those are the servants and slaves of your uncle, Tullius Pectus. He is the brother-in-law of your father. He is a grain merchant from Rome and was on a trip north to buy more grain. He decided to stop by and visit his brother-in-law since it has been several years since they were together.

Marcus quickly dusted himself off and ran to the well, where he washed his face and his hands and legs. He quickly ran a hand through his hair and shook out some of the dust that was in it.

Their house was as close to a villa in design as his father could afford. The house was a stucco and wood structure, two stories high. The second floor contained the sleeping rooms and other private rooms. The first floor contained the living and working areas and kitchen and had a large atrium courtyard in the middle. The house was in the shape of a large C with the back of the atrium closed by a single wall. Father had plans to extend both the second and first floor to enclose the courtyard. But presently he was short of funds.

Marcus's father, Aulus, had served twenty-five years with the legions of Rome. He was a Roman citizen, but he was plebeian. This means that he did not have the privileges that the patricians of Rome or the ruling families of Rome had. Aulus felt that as a Roman soldier, he had gained much of the wealth for the privileged classes of Rome. For example, most of the land and spoils that were taken by the legions in the wars were directly sold to people who could afford it, namely the upper classes. It's true, the legionnaires were given shares of some of the spoils, but it was usually a very small amount.

Aulus felt that he should live in the nicest house he could afford and get as close to the upper-class type of housing as he could. He was very proud of his house and had recently had the entire exterior whitewashed. The house virtually shined like the sun.

The house had a reception room or vestibule by the front door. This was the place where visitors could be received. Marcus did not like going through the front door because the room contained a set of small statues set in niches high on the wall. These statues, according to his father, represented the spirits or genii that protected the family. Every time a member of the family passed through this room, they were supposed to stop and offer a prayer to the family protectors. If his father was with them and noticed that a family member did not stop and offer the prayers, he would give them a very strong reminder with his vine staff.

Because his father's family had lost their farm and had been dispersed, Aulus had joined the legions at an early age. There was a definite lack of continuity with honoring the family protectors. So his father adopted the current set of family protectors or spirits. One of them was Cerce, the patroness of Umbria, the province they were in, and she was the patroness of agriculture. This made sense to Marcus. The other two gods that his father had adopted were squat, ugly little deities that had been adopted by the legions he was assigned to. Marcus could not even remember or pronounce the names of these protectors.

Marcus slipped in through the door to the kitchen area. It was full of good smells of baking bread and goose cooking. Verina was supervising the cook and his helper putting together what looked like a banquet. In addition, he could see his father and another man sitting in the courtyard enjoying the sun and drinking wine. There were tables and couches set