TotW 200: Ancient Rome *SPECIAL EVENT* - The Vote!
Ancient Rome
You have THREE votes, which must be used!
Submission 1
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
The glorious chariot of the sun-god Helios, drawn by his fabled winged horses, was slowly descending behind the seven hills of Rome, paving the way for which appeared to be a starry night, a much welcomed moment of relief during the Dog Days of the summer, which occured in the months of Quintilis and Sextilis. The scorching powers of Helios were at their peak, and, in the mind of all Romans, he alone was to be blamed for the diseases and discomfort which always plagued the empire around that time of the year.
Each evening, after a hard’s day labour, almost every soul the under the Roman thumb was seeking refuge in one of the countless tabernae (or taverns) scattered everywhere, where one could always find cheap wine, a frugal meal and some form of entertaiment, whether it was about gambling, whoring or listening to the bawdy lyrics of a petty poet. However, the most wealthy citizens, belonging to the upper echelons of Roman society, were always assembling at private villae, nourishing their mortal senses with the most refined foods and drinks available. Here, in the company of their peers, the potentates of the day displayed their power by organizing lavish banquets, sparing no effort in the attempt to impress the guests. For spending coins was a sure method to bring in more coins, since everyone knew that money begets money, according to the ancient dicton which states that the rich get richer, while the poor get poorer.
That evening, a group of lecticae (or litters) arrived in front of a newly-built villa, on the Caelian Hill, back then one of the most fashionable districts of Rome. The proprietors of those vehicles, eleven of the most influential senators of Rome, marveled for minutes at the colossal residence, attempting to assess the value of such an opulent construction. This most distinguished assembly of venerable men didn’t even know the name of the owner which had gracefully invited them over for a comissatio, or drinking party. Two days before the event, a Numidian slave had handed each of them an invitation with their names engraved on a golden plate.
Who could have build such luxurious residence? Perhaps one of those well-off merchants who has just received citizenship and settled in Rome, tired of roaming the provinces in search of profit. Maybe that he wants to acquire influence to fulfill the dream of getting access to the Cursus Honorum (Course of Offices). Could he be Marcus Gavius Apicius, the famous glutton? It surely can’t be him, considering that Apicius committed suicide three years ago, maddened by the imminent ruin. This foolish spendthrift owned much of his sorrows to his uncontrolable habit of wasting fortunes on banquets.
Suddenly, the imposing front gate opened, and a handful of Greek servants greeted the guests, inviting them inside the mansion.
”Welcome, most honourable citizens of Rome! Please come in and make yourselves confortable! My master will soon arrive to take care of his guests” added the chief servant, while nodding his head in a most respectful manner.
”Who is this mysterious master that you speak of? Is he by chance a native of Rome? Or he has just established himself here, moving away from some distant place?” asked Gaius Cornelius Marcellus, the eldest of the group, a peevish old man in his late sixties. A shrewd fox like him, who had seen enough betrayals in his long and eventful life, was experienced enough to recognize even the slightest signs of danger, if there were any. His small eyes continuously scrutinized the hallway for concealed perils.
”Please step into the dining room, your Excellencies! My master will arrive in a moment” added the chief servant, before vanishing back into the hallway.
”Very well then” concluded Gaius Cornelius. ”We will consider ourselves as guests of this master of yours”. The rest of the senators followed Gaius into the dining room, where everybody was overcome with awe at the sight of the golden floor mosaics, the wall paintings and the luxurious furnitures. Gold embellished everything around them. Piles of exotic rare foods and drinks were being brought ceaselessly by servants: venison and other wild animals, exotic fish, raw oysters, lobsters, various birds, not to mention the Falernian, Caecuban and Alban wines. The tableware was made of gold, silver, as well as rock crystal and agate.
”We must be the guests of king Midas himself then...” added Cassius Junius Rufus to himself. Envy glimpsed from his eyes while admiring the gilded drinking cups featuring dionysiac scenes.
”No, you are wrong, Cassius Junius. It’s not king Midas...” a voice echoed across the room, as the fear took hold of the senators’ hearts. They instantaneously recognized the dreaded voice of their unexpected host. A young man draped in purple silk and velvet stepped into the room. The obscene amount of expensive jewelry he was wearing would have stirred the jealousy of the most distinguished Roman women.
”Emperor Caligula! What a great honour! We didn’t know it was you all al-...” gasped Gaius Cornelius, while clasping his throat with the right hand. It was near impossible to hide his horror in front of the emperor, because Caligula was able to read people like no one. The old senator feared for his life, since the murderous dispositions of Caligula were already notorius throughout the empire, and many patricians had already been put to the sword on flimsy treason charges. On top of that, he was also suspected of being an epileptic, a clear sign that the gods did not favour him.
”You’re wrong as well, my dear Gaius Cornelius... I’m not the host of this banquet. Please allow me to correct your guess and introduce to you your newest colleague as well as the dominus (owner) of this house” added Caligula. ”Athenaios, don’t forget to bring in the performers as well!” continued the emperor with unbridled enthusiasm.
A large mass of acrobats, female dancers and mimes swarmed the room in an instance, accompanied by flute and lyra players. At a sign, an Egyptian slave brought in a white steed covered in purple mantles and wearing a collar of precious stones.
”Behold your newest colleague, most distinguished senators! His name is Incitatus!” exclaimed Caligula”. I know what you might think right now. That he’s a horse! Believe me, he is not a mere horse. One day I noticed a divine sparkle while watching him mating with mares. Incitatus is a divine gift sent to me by the gods themselves! Helios Panoptes has awarded me this mighty steed as a token of recognition! The gods love me! The gods adore me!” Caligula continued his delirious rant while the senators watched him flabbergasted. None dared to contradict the insanity of such statements.
”As long as I’m around, even a horse can perform the duties of a senator since doing politics has never been easier than during my glorious reign! I’m thinking of putting him in charge of one of my legions, to act as a general in the service of Rome! A Roman general! Or better yet... A consul! A consul of the Roman Empire! What do you say, my friends? Will you accept him as your equal?” asked Caligula with a wry grin of the face.
The senators were stunned. A refusal would have meant instant death, their families dragged into the gladiatorial pits to be devoured by wild beasts. Gaius Cornelius Marcellus was devising in his mind all kinds of possible outcomes, while Cassius Junius Rufus was determined to accept the request, even if the mobs would most likely lampooned him on the streets the next day. At least he would still keep his head on the shoulders and safely reach old age, together with his wife. The sweat stood in drops on his forehead.
”O mighty emperor! We accept Incitatus as our equal! I will raise this cup of Falernian wine and drink to his health!” exclaimed Cassius Junius, groveling before Caligula. ”All hail Incitatus, the future consul of Rome!” added the senator. Gaius Cornelius and the rest of the senators were left little choice, and so they yielded, raising the cups as well.
”Excellent, my friends! I’m glad you’ve made your best decision yet. Come, let us go see Incitatus mate with his future wife, the mare Penelopa. Their divine offsprings will enable me to become an earthly embodiment of Helios. My gilded chariot drawn by this breed of horses will take me to edges of the world! Every nation will ackowledge my superiority, bowind down before my authority!” exclaimed Caligula with theatrical gestures.
Later, as everybody gathered in the garden to watch Incitatus mating with Penelopa, all of them drunk out of their minds, Caligula was contemplating the moon alone, dreaming of the day he would fly across the vast skies in his chariot, like a living deity that he was...
Submission 2
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
The Roman-Punic war in the senate discussed.
In the year of 272 B.C the Romans just drove out the greek forces of Pyrrhus and tensions grow high between Rome and carthage. A new time has arrived,a new era will begin, A new era of Roman conquest!
To the North are the Etruscans located and beyond them the celtic tribes. In the east the successor states are constantly infighting eachother.
With the mighty Seleucid empire who constantly has to repel satraps claiming their independence the east should be easily conquered by our mighty legions of Mars
In Africa were the old carthaginian empire is located, they commited betrayal to Rome when they broke the fourth treaty after the Epirote forces withdrawn to greece to fight their own greek people.
Consul Spurius -'Yes, people of the senate, The time has come for expansion. Carthage with its constant provocations gives us an excellent excuse for declaring war on them.
Senators of Rome, I Consul Spurius Carvilius Ruga am pleased to announce my ambitious plan for The republic of Rome to wipe out the carthaginian empire!
We will use our experienced soldiers who participated in the roman-pyrrhic wars. Their first goal is to capture the iberian colony qart hadasht.
Meanwhile in Rome we will raise new legions who will fight in greece to avoid new pyrrhic invasions on our soil, we will fill our ranks with the mercenaries of sparta who are enemies of epirus: The famous spartans who recently have driven out the epirote forces out of sparta!
Senator Avidius-'Great consul with all respect, how will you fullfill your plan when the we are out of funds and how will we feed the citizens when we barely can feed our armies?'
Consul Spurius -'if you disrupt me one more time when i'm speaking i will personally dismiss you from your office, Now what you just said has its own solution in my plan.
Taxes will be increased but we will keep the plebs happy with bread and circusses which will happen once every year. Now about the food problem: when Qart Hadasht and the Epirote capital has been taken,we will send our newly recruited general Publius licinius to Sicily for the grain resources.
Senator Avidius-'Thank you great consul for taking your time to explaing your plan to me, but please continue.'
Consul Spurius -' When those steps are successful we will make an immediate and surprising on the mighty city of carthage itself.
The attack will be made in two big steps:
-We will blockade the harbour of carthage with our hired pirate fleet from Cilicia.
- Our general Publius Licinius who has been ordened previously to take the Epirote capital will lead the frontal attack on Carthage itself.'
Senator Magnus -' Consul the city of carthage is getting guarded strongly, They have high numbers!
Consul Spurius -'They have indeed high numbers, however our spies tell me that alot of the Numidian mercenaries who are in service of Carthage have low morale. They can be paid off for fighting on our side.
This will give our enemy a great blow and without their cavalry their they are vulnerable.'
Senator Magnus -'Even with the taxes increased we can't pay them!'
Consul Spurius -'Indeed we can't pay them, but i never intended to pay them too. When we have convinced them to join our side and have taken the city of carthage we will invite the leader of them in our city were will commit betrayal and murder him. Thus so shall we place an own roman general under the command of the Numidians.'
Senator Magnus -'That's just cruel and dishonorable what you propose us romans'
Consul Spurius -'Indeed, you're right, But it's all about the goal we achieve and not how, We don't have the time for thinking a diffrent strategy or must we wait untill that attack of the carthaginians on our own territory?
Senator Avidius -'And general Publiuc Licinius, is he loyal enough, won't he betray us?
Consul Spurius -' Yes he has an enormous hate for the carthaginians, Both of his parents got kidnaped on Sicily and they got offered on the altar of their barbarian god Bâal.
Consul Spurius -' Enough of this talking! We must have voted before the night falls otherwise this discussion was for nothing! Let us vote! Will we wage war for leading Rome to unlimited heights? or will we remain a small state were carthage dominates the mediterrean sea?
Magistrate Bacchus -' The proposal of Spurius has been accepted with 253 votes against 147 votes.'
Consul Spurius -' War shall come, Blood shall fall,men will die ........ Carthago Delenda est!'
All senators -' Carthago delenda est!!!!
Submission 3
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:"For Rome!" I cried out as I stabbed my opponent in the stomach, his blood staining my gladius as I withdrew it. Our Legion was ambushed, caught unawares by our foe as we marched towards the cold and unforgiving lands north of Hadrian's great wall. One by one I watched my comrades fall, overwhelmed by the sheer ferocity of the enemy and their whistling arrows that struck from above. Disheartening still, was the loss of our General, who was hacked to pieces by the barbarians. His head taken as a trophy and placed atop a pole wielded by their chief. Their chants, howls, and shouts of victory were sickening and it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand. There's not many of us left and I knew in my heart that we were doomed. Our Legion is finished.
"Form up and prepare to defend the Eagle!" I shouted over the din of battle and the remnants of my cohort staggered back towards me forming a defensive circle with our Eagle safe at the center. I remembered a simple phrase taught to us when we first began training to be legionaries. "Honor, Faith, Valor, Loyalty. Forward unto death!" I didn't understand then but now at the end, I suppose it all made sense. I nodded to myself for I knew what must be done. If this was to be our end, then so be it. I will gladly accept my fate and die under the shadow of our standard. Time seems to have slowed down as the barbarians drove madly into our formation and I saw my whole life flash before my very eyes.
I wasn't always like this. I wasn't a soldier in the whole sense of the word. My father was a sheep herder in Larissa and I always knew that I would be consigned to a life of eternal servitude out in the fields tending the flock but it wasn't something that I wanted. I was quite an adventurous youth and I dreamed of one day leaving the boring life of sheep herding to travel the world and see places I've only heard about. When the Romans came to our village seeking recruits for their Legions and telling us of a life of adventure, citizenship and decent payment, I was the first to signup without hesitation though I knew in my heart that soldiering wasn't for me. Every Greek lad I knew never found cause to refuse legionary service. After all, who would if the alternative was getting old and never getting the chance to really live and enjoy life to the fullest? I got home and packed, ignoring my father's protests and raging accusations. His anger slowly turned into despair and he started pleading me not to go but alas, my mind was set and I left him without a word. I didn't know then that it would be the last time I would ever see him.
I'll skip the tales of endless hardships, of training and the countless battles I fought for Rome. By the time I was 30, I was promoted to Centurion of the 1st Cohort, stewards of our Legionary Standard. Now I was no longer known as Cassander for I have left that name behind as a relic of the past but as Quintus, a citizen of Rome and my fellow Centurions also nicknamed me Quintus Macedonicus out of jest. I even took a Roman as my wife. Lucilla, daughter of our commander, whose hand was given to me for my valiant efforts in saving his life on numerous occasions. Months passed and we have been given a new post. Britannia. It was there that we experienced the most brutal fighting ever. The cold weather and never ending resentment to Roman rule is taking it's toll on us. Everyday we received news of chieftains rising up and spitting on the Empire, betraying their oaths of allegiance to Rome. Everyday we had to send out a Cohort or two to avenge the blatant disrespect and betrayal, stamping out the dissent. We were growing weary of it and we were bored. We were not gaolers and peacekeepers. A Legion is not meant to be kept idle but should be used aggressively. In the days that would follow, I would come to regret my wish.
Fresh orders came to us to move north to face a tribe that is plotting against Rome. According to the reports, they have massed a huge army and are gaining more supporters from both sides of the wall. They were a threat and must be destroyed. Many of us looked forward to the prospect of a real battle and we even had wagers as to who would draw first blood. But even as I laughed along my with them, I couldn't help but feel that there was something very odd about this mission. Something very "final" about it. But I dismissed it as pre-battle jitters and I pushed the thoughts back. Once we cleared the borders of the Empire, the atmosphere quickly changed. The woods we were passing through was awfully quiet. Too quiet. One normally hears all sorts of things but here there was nothing but silence. The happy chirping of the birds were absent and it was then I knew something was wrong. Before I could continue my deep thought into the matter, one of our standard bearers was shot by an arrow. "Ambush!" cried one of the men as he hastily brought his shield up. "Form Testudo!" bellowed our General, getting off his horse and unsheathing his gladius. Turning to one of the men on horseback, he said "Flavius! Get to the rear of the column and order them to fall back now! We need to get the Legion out of this terrain and into the clearing!" The man nodded and set off at once but he never got to the rear for he was shot down by a hail of javelins halfway through. All around us we heard the enemy howl at us like wolves circling their prey and with the sound of a trumpet, they charged at us from all sides. When a Legionary Cohort is in Testudo, it is hard for the men to fight in hand-to-hand combat and in that, we faced a dilemma. Remain in the formation and suffer casualties against a head-on battering assault or disperse and suffer casualties from enemy missiles. It was a no-win situation and so began the battle. No, I said to myself as I watched the carnage unfolding, it was not a battle at all. It was a massacre. Others ran away to save their skins while others stood their ground, unyielding and grimly facing down the enemy.
A hard jolt to the side of my helmet brought me back to my senses. I saw what's left of my Cohort struggling and being dragged down by the barbarians. This was indeed the end and as I grabbed hold of the Eagle standard with my left hand, I closed my eyes and whispered, "Forgive me father. I love you Lucilla". I opened my eyes, tightened my grip on my gladius and screamed out with all the strength I had left in me "Roma Victrix! Roma Invicta!" as I charged into the barbarians.
Honor, Faith, Valor, Loyalty. Forward unto death!
Submission 4
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:The day had just dawned when Quintus began preparing to sneak out of the house. He had been planning his visit to Roma for a few weeks now and he was absolutely not going to get caught again. His plan was not going to fail this time. Today he would finally be able to explore the city on his own. For the last time he checked if he had everything he needed. His dagger? Check. His leather pocket with denarii. Check. His clothes? ‘Check’, Quintus thought with a smile. The beggar orphan had been overjoyed he’d gotten three denarii from him. Sure, he had to give Quintus his clothes, but he’d been willing to do a lot more for such a reward. Quintus even had luck on his side, for he’d been making extra sacrifices to Fortuna, surprising both his parents with his newfound piety. With that in mind, Quintus quietly left his room and entered the dimly lit corridor.
‘That was easier than expected’, Quintus thought, as he casually strolled down the hill. The slaves had been too busy to notice him. The guards hired by his father had, quite literally, thrown him out of the house. They had not recognized him due to his new outfit. ‘All in all, I’d say that’s mission accomplished,’ Quintus thought with a large grin on his face. This was where the fun started.
Even though the day was still young, the Forum was already buzzing with activity. There were shouting merchants, dancing actors and lots and lots of other people. And young Quintus was having the time of his life. Up until now he’d only visited the forum in his palanquin, surrounded by slaves and guards. He’d never been able to take a good look around. And now, finally freed of his unwanted companions, he was overwhelmed by the sounds, scents and sights. The overcrowded Forum seemed like a whole new world, nothing like the quiet and open house he’d grown up in. As he walked past the many houses, temples and other buildings, he noticed that many people formed groups, hoping to pick up the latest news and discuss politics. Quintus, curious as he was, was eager to eavesdrop and find out more about this strange new outer world.
He had no luck at first: the first group he heard talking was using a strange language, incomprehensible to Quintus. He recognized a few Greek words, but they were mixed with others he did not know and were spoken too fast for him to understand. Luckily, the second group he listened to spoke Latin and Quintus could listen all he wanted. ‘It’s a disgrace,’ an old man shouted, ‘for any Roman to take up arms against his fellow citizens and against his homeland! A betrayal that is not to be forgiven!’ ‘Marcus Tullius has every right to do so!’ another man shouted back, his voice filled with anger and sarcasm. ‘Did our beloved princeps himself not take his title with brute force?’ ‘But he took it from a brutal tyrant!’ Quintus heard, as a third man entered the discussion. Afterwards the group quickly disintegrated into loud bickering about who was right and who was not. Quintus had quite a laugh when several men, apparently drunk, loudly made their way through the crowd and, without a clear motive, began fighting amongst themselves.
Despite all the fun he had, Quintus began walking back to whence he had come. The temperature was rising fast and Quintus was getting really thirsty. Besides, if he was quick, he might just convince the people at home he had been hiding somewhere in the house. He would surely be punished for that, but far less severely than for sneaking out of the house. As he began climbing up the hill again, his thoughts drifted back to the discussion he had heard on the Forum. He had certainly heard of Marcus Tullius’ rebellion, as it was a popular topic of his parents to talk about. According to the latest reports, Tullius and his army had recently arrived in Gallia Narbonensis and were preparing to cross the Alps. ‘If only my father were still in command…’ Quintus thought. His father had been a renowned and respected general, in service of the city and the princeps. He had often told stories about his campaigns against the uncivilized barbarians across the Rhenus. His older sister, Flavia, would usually be scared of the danger their father had experienced, but he always was proud of his father and strove to become as brave as he was. He sighed when he thought of his sister. She would soon leave them, as father was already looking for a suitable husband for her. His sister was sixteen now and in their younger years she had often comforted him when he was afraid or sad. But that time was over: he was ten now and on his way to becoming a man. He had not cried for a long time now and he resolved not to do so when his sister would leave them either.
Getting into the house was no problem at all. He simply talked to the guards and, after convincing them who he was, they let him in. Now began the tricky part. He had to pretend he had been hiding somewhere for all this time. He quickly decided he would hide in one of the many, small rooms next to the garden. He never got there. Almost as soon as Quintus stepped into the atrium, his arm was suddenly grabbed and he heard a familiar voice shout his name. He had been caught by his stupid paedagogus. He tried to get away at first, but soon ceased struggling. The slave carried him to his father’s workroom. ‘Let’s hear what your father has to say about this, shall we?’
Quintus kept his head raised defiantly as he confronted his father. The man standing across the room reciprocated with a stern look on his face. Constantinus’ eyes still were capable of the intimidating look that had made many subordinate officers cower before him. Quintus remained unfazed. His father had taught him never to show fear in face of an enemy and he was not going to show it to his father either. Constantinus hid a smile behind his stern face, for secretly he was proud of his son’s determination. But that did not mean his deeds would go unpunished. Just as he was about to scold his son, a woman came into the room. Before he could react, Quintus was buried in one his mother’s asphyxiating hugs. Constantinus could not contain his laughter as his son protested and struggled to free himself from his mother’s grip. ‘That’s enough, Horatia.’ Grudgingly his wife released his son and Constantinus made a half-hearted attempt to regain his posture. He failed miserably.
A whispered message from one of the slaves notified Constantinus that consul Regulus had arrived. The present matter would have to wait. ‘With you I will deal later, Quintus. Now, go tell your sister where you’ve been, for she has been worried sick about you.’ As his son quickly left the room, Constantinus turned towards his wife. ‘I told you he would be safe.’ ‘Are you sure the guards did not lose him for even one moment?’ Horatia replied. ‘No. The prefect told me his men had a lot of fun when they saw our son clumsily sneak through the house.’ ‘It’s a good thing we had them informed about his plans; they might have stabbed him to death if we had not.’ ‘Nevertheless, this trip of his was necessary. You remember what happened last time, do you not?’ ‘Yes, I do’, she admitted, ‘I’m relieved all went well.
In the meantime Quintus had run off to look for his sister. As soon as he found her, he began telling her of everything he had experienced. She pretended to be surprised, but off course she had known all along. Everyone in the house had. She had been worried about her younger brother, but his happy smile convinced her it had all been worthwhile.
‘Now, princeps, so far your plans are proceeding well. The third legion Augusta has arrived in Tarentum, after embarking from Carthago, and is on its way to Roma.’ Constantinus took no pleasure from the consul’s words. He was still not used to the title. ‘But, princeps, are you sure you will command the legions yourself? There are others who could…’ ‘No,’ Constantinus interrupted him, ‘I will deal with Tullius myself. I will not fall the way my predecessor did.’ He was silent for a moment. The view of the city from the Palatine hill was unrivalled by anything else he had seen in his life, magnificent and frightening at the same time. ‘Now consul,’ he said, as he turned towards the man, ‘the die is cast.’
Submission 5
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:Men like us sit bewildered in the present. We amuse ourselves with luxuries and knowledge bought for us by the suffering and blood of ages past, asking to those around us how could those Greek and Roman scholars, the most learned of the ancient people, not know the truths of our existence? Perhaps they were not the wisest they had been claimed to be after all? In our modern reality we are comforted knowing that most has been revealed to us, and it is only a matter of time until the few things we don't still understand are fully explored and categorized.
Our security was not without it's price however. We know of every legion lost in war and the millions of people scythed down by disease, figures and death-counts fill our minds as we can only imagine the experiences of those who were unlucky enough to be involved. We wish we could have been there, to see such things with our own eyes, shielded of course from whatever danger there was.
We know of the great leaders of these people and we study them furiously, trying to dissect and explain who they were and what they did and cram it all into a pair of paragraphs in some textbook for countless eyes to glaze over. The great general is the most idolized man in war. We study his tactics and his methods of discipline, we chronicle his rise from citizen to his grand role in service to whatever his cause was, be it tribe, nation, religion,or idea. But never do we look beyond that, it is dangerous to delve so deep.
But of every reviled betrayal recorded in history, the most devastating and world-changing is what we do to ourselves. The truth we know is absolute and infallible, whereas the ones before us which were so grudgingly cast aside and left in the dark were not. All those lives sacrificed to reach this truth will never be fully appreciated, we should envy them for they are free from this self-destructive course. We know history more than we know one another, we hold each other at arms-length because we cannot forget who has done what, and what was done in return.
Tribes, nations, religions, opposing ideals, they are all the same. All are the excuses we create to become wronged by another. The borders of blood on our atlas are all we see. A man who is different than I is surely my enemy, is an easy thought to understand. And the thought that is easiest to understand is the most widely harbored in the world. We would sooner hew our only home into splinters than share it. To never forgive and forget,that is the nature of man.
Perhaps those angelic beings who we so desperately hope are watching above us may show us mercy, or at the very least pity, when the end finally arrives. I am no wiser than the next man, but I wonder what kind of ending we deserve. I hope we meet the worst of all fates, I hope humanity slowly claws itself apart as it has been doing since it all began until there is no one left. This is perhaps the most poetic end I could wish for, what was born in blood, dies in blood.
Submission 6
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:This is how most of the heroic tales of old usually begin. Or at least that was what your grandfather used to tell me, back when I was your age.
The young, brave boy receives the unexpected news of his father's demise at the hands of someone usually merciless (typically a Roman, if the storyteller is Greek), and always cruel and barbaric (the other way around). The young, brave boy sheds but a single tear, more to honor the memory of his fallen parent than as a show of personal weakness. Then, without a second thought, mounts his fiery steed, gathers around him a few brave, loyal souls who swear their loyalty and who promise to follow him to vengeance, to glory and even death, and rides into the night.
Only to return but a few short months later to his poor mother who, weeping with joy at the sight of her courageous offspring, embraces him with a force of compassion and gratitude that would otherwise crush a lesser man's bones or tear his sinews apart. Our stout boy is now all grown up, stern and serious and, with a remarkable consistency amongst all tales, always triumphant and victorious. The treacherous slayer of his father, locked up in chains, wrapped up in rags, smeared in dirt and caked blood, drags his feet in a dejected resignation behind his fearless captor, his judge, and his soon-to-be executioner. The noble companions who so readily entered into the service of their newly-minted leader casually trot on either side of him, their quiet smirks and fearless eyes speaking volumes of bravery, camaraderie and perils encountered during their by now legendary adventures.
The brave boy returns home from his perilous ordeals to the wholehearted cheers of his elated fellow citizens, praising his courage, his wisdom and his strength of arm. Working themselves into delirious frenzy, fueled by a deadly mixture of injured pride and absurd expectations, the welcoming crowd promptly pronounces him their fearless leader and mighty general, who is to elevate them to epic deeds of valor and glory. And he does.
K
Every story. Every. Single. Freaking. Time.
Remarkable...
Sometimes I can't help but wonder. Were these mortal humans the courtiers and crones crooned about? Or were these fantastic ballads meant to praise the omnipotent Gods themselves...
A hundred golden pieces say no mere human can ever strive to achieve such heights of courage, of selflessness. And good luck to those who take my wager and try to convince me otherwise. For I see no other possibility but for a divine intervention at play in any and all of those glorious stories of old.
I mean, how else could it be?
Did those brave boys have no hearts?
Did they have no feelings?
Were they immune to grief, or despair?
Did they never fall prey to the dark deeds of betrayal, or to the searing flame of lust?
Were they never torn apart by a lover's rejection? By apathy, or depression, or family discord, by envy, or by a legion of other typical human emotions that torment the rest of us for as long as we draw breath?
Neither fear, nor remorse gripped their young, naive souls?
Did their minds not twist and turn at night, agonizing in doubt when the rest of the world is quiet?
Did their bodies not suffer from illness or from wounds, from fire, or frost?
For, if human they were indeed, they could not have had bones of iron or flesh of steel. Nor the mind of a God. Because flesh can, naye, flesh will fail even the mightiest of warrior and bone will give, or worse, bone will snap for even the bravest of man. And mind, ah, that cruelest of pranksters betrays us on each and every step along our way, unexpected, unprovoked, unbidden.
Did I mention that our brave hero never fails to marry (and always by pure, consensual, almost mythical love) the most beautiful woman the eyes of man have ever gazed upon?
Like my mother, uncle? She's beautiful, isn't she?
Just so, you clever boy, just so…More beautiful than mere words can give justice to. A creature so perfect, so pious, so good-hearted and so noble that the Gods themselves chant joyous hymns about. A passionate woman, who wholeheartedly embraces our valiant hero and happily joins him in a holy union under the approving eyes of her father. And it goes without saying that these two love birds live happily ever after, spawning a mighty legion of offsprings who proceed to be an even greater source of further heroic tales of old. A source of legend!
Preposterous, I say to you my dear boy, and utterly absurd too. And to Hades with anyone who believes it otherwise!
But now come, my dear nephew, let us go inside and I shall tell you a true story of a real hero who just lost his father. And worse still, he was left heart-broken by those he loves most dearly…
Submission 7
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:Script excerpt, working title: “Requiem for an Empire”
Opening scene.
[Camera 1] Waist high.
Camera to pan slowly from the left, a line of brown hills are visible in the distance, they waver and are unclear in the heat haze. The foreground shows brown and yellow grasses interspersed with meadow flowers slowly dancing in the sunlight. Focus on a few stems and flowers as we complete the pan. A road appears in camera from the right and stop when the road fills the picture, we can see the road is a dry and stony. We can see the sun is high and behind the dust clouds – the road runs West to East.
Play sounds of songbirds and insects in the background. Camera raises until we see a dust cloud in the distance and a distant sound of the regular tramp of booted feet on the road. We cannot see any figures yet as they are obscured by the haze and dust.
A metallic clink is heard on the right hand side and the camera view sharply turns to the source, a bearded man wearing a chainmail vest, a short tunic covers him to mid-thigh. The man holds a large round shield on his left arm with two thin javelins held in his right hand, a sword belted to his left side.
[Camera 2] Chest high, right of road.
Switch to cam2 which is to the right of the road and at chest height, angle view slightly up, pull back slightly and we see figures hidden in the grasses similarly garbed as the first man. A lithe man wearing a helmet and cloak, his gear marking him as an officer of some kind is seen where the first camera started. The man speaks in a low angry growl at the first man we saw. “Androcles! Quiet or yours will be the first death today, now down!”
[Camera 1]
Switch to cam1 and look to the officers left. Another soldier is crouched down but dressed in Roman armour. The first officer turns to him, a smile plays around his mouth – “Well Roman, now the end of your betrayal plays out, your old Legion dies today in front of you, it must make you feel proud to know your part in this, General?” The Romans’ face is etched into a snarl, “Listen you Greek whoreson, I know what I do and the consequences of all my actions better than your mother knew your pig of a father, what we do today is a service to the Empire, your part is small and will be forgotten before the year is out”.
The Greek smiles sardonically at the Roman – “Any time you want to do this all by yourself, let me know, we can go and find some accommodating Roman matrons to amuse ourselves with instead and let you Citizens of Rome sort your own mess out. How is that young wife of yours these days? I hear she is quite the beauty”. He gives one final evil grin to the Roman and turns back to the road. The Roman gives a hard glare but with a smile that the plays along his face after the Greek has turned back to the road.
Sound of marching, horses and carts should slowly build through the conversation and now when we turn back it is loud. Turn to the road and we can see the Legion in more detail now, cavalry at the front, cohorts of infantry behind and a baggage train before a screen of cavalry at the back. Skirmishers flank the column.
[Camera 3] Birds eye view centred on the road.
Pan slowly along the line of the moving Legion, cavalry at the front and Legionnaires in formation down the road with eight cohorts and in the distance wagons and more cavalry. Pull the focus in quickly to see the riders out front and then slowly run the camera down the line of the soldiers, we can see the dust ingrained in their gear and their weariness as they march in step, Shields on their left, gladius on the right and pila carried in the right hand.
[Camera 4] Moving along the line of the Legion.
Move focus to the hooves of the horses and then the legion, pass the camera along the first cohort and then stop to follow the Centurions at the head of the second cohort. Focus in on the lead Centurion, clean shaven but dusty. He turns to the man behind, “make ready to spring the trap, we go right, the first cohort goes left, third cohort stays on the road, ready pila” there is a ripple down the line as men shift their shields and grasp their pila more firmly.
[Camera 1]
The Greek General glares at the Roman and angrily turns on him “betrayal wrapped in betrayal? And they say never trust a Greek, still at least you will be speaking with your ancestors this night”, with that the Greek leaps for the Roman with his sword sweeping out, focus on the blade as it descends and crashes into the Romans own gladius. “You think we would need the likes of you to win? Your service to me and Rome ends here, Sparta dies today!” With that the Roman sinks a dagger into the guts of the Greek and pulls upwards. He stands quickly and shouts out to the lead cavalry who are now level with him, “Now! Spring the trap Brutus”
Notes:
Will script the exact detail of this later. Switch between cameras. Initial ideas would be some bloody sword work spilled guts or horses and men. I want to see the Legion loosing their pilum with javelins and pila hitting into Greeks and Romans. Greeks rout after a bloody stand and are then chased down by cavalry. Sweep across the battlefield to show many Greek dead and some Roman.
Final shots will be birds eye view to see five new legions joining the First. Last shot of this scene is the standard of the first Legion fluttering in the wind with some blood stains in one corner.
Submission 8
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:"These are dangerous times. Our enemies are threatening Rome and are just a few miles shy of her doorstep. Nevertheless we shall stand against them and triumph!" Those were the words of Cornelius, the great Roman general. He was an honorable man who has served the Empire for years and every Roman citizen knew him. He was the commander of three legions and he had the loyalty of his men. His victories were legendary, earning him the title "Magnus" and his efforts has seen Rome expand her frontiers to distant lands. Such was his reputation. But dark clouds loomed overhead and once again shrouded Rome in bitter darkness. Great evil whispers into the hearts of great men and Cornelius slowly turned his backed from the Empire. With the fires of his ambition kindled and his insatiable lust for power he marched against Rome. For five long years the civil war engulfed the entire Empire, pitting brother against brother, ripping families apart and turning friends into foes. Until at last the day came when Cornelius was finally defeated and he is called up to answer for his betrayal.
Years have now passed. The civil war was over. Yet even then the festering evil remained. Biding its time and waiting for the day when it will go forth once again to corrupt the hearts and minds of those who are to weak or blind to resist. The only now question was when?
"Name?", asked the stout Roman legionary sitting behind the desk as he looked at the newcomer with a cold stare of loathing. "Eurylochus sir!", replied the newcomer with a hint of pride and enthusiasm in his voice. "Eurylochus of Argos." he continued while standing in stiff attention. The legionary shook his head with disgust and said "A Greek eh? I've seen a lot of Greeks today and quite frankly I am sick of the whole lot of them." He glared at Eurylochus and continued with a hint of malicious mocking in his voice: "What makes you think you are good enough for the XII legion? You boy-loving bastard." Eurylochus bit back his retort and replied: "I know how to use a sword sir, and I never turn my back on my orders." The legionary took in his words and nodded. He paced around Eurylochus which reminded him a lot of a wolf circling it's prey. "Alright, take this shirt and get in there.", hissed the legionary as he thrust an old grey shirt at Eurylochus. "Next!", he called out. Eurylochus could hardly believe his luck. He was now a legionary of the Roman XII legion and after a few years of service might finally be granted Roman citizenship. As he entered the barracks with thoughts of bountiful loot, slave-girls, and glorious battles, he felt excited. The days on the barracks were filled with hardships as every legionary was constantly tested and trained. The tests designed to gauge their physical strength, stamina, and mental prowess were extreme to the point of brutal. Eurylochus himself began to regret his decision of joining the legions. He had expected the rigorous training but not like this. Long forced marches were very common and more often than not, many of his fellow legionaries bore the scars of old wounds inflicted by the discipline masters of the legion. Of course though, not everything lasts forever. After two long years of training they were finally sent out to face their first combat.
The Germanic tribes east of the Rhine were making regular incursions into Roman territory and must be stopped. The XII along with the X and the IV were to be sent on a daring mission beyond the frontier and into the heart of Germanic lands. Their mission was to defeat a barbarian army being raised by a Teutones chief. The army, which was a a mix of Marcomanni , Ambrones, Batavians, and Suebi, was almost a hundred thousand strong and the odds were not in the favor of the Romans. Despite this, the legions were undaunted and marched on without fear. Eurylochus was a bit reluctant but he knew a legionary needed to be tough and so he too went forth with his head held high. After three days of marching, they finally arrived at the front. When they arrived, Eurylochus saw that the X and the IV legions were already there and most of them were getting impatient. "It is about time this mindless rabble arrived.", said one of the legionaries from the X. "Did you delay coming here because you were afraid of the big bad Germans?", said another one and they all laughed at the XII. "Hey you! Shut up!", said Lucius with a growl. Lucius was the biggest legionary in the XII and the most ill-tempered too. Eurylochus recalled vaguely when he first encountered the massive brute and he never sought to get in his way again.After all, he still bore the marks of Lucius' mighty right fist. "Oooh! We're scared big man!", taunted the X legionary and his buddies laughed even harder. Before Lucius could lash out the man, the commander came and intervened to put an end to the conflict. "Enough! Save it for the real enemy. There's no point in wasting your strengths." The legionaries averted their eyes as if chastened by the commander's words. "We march tomorrow so eat a hearty meal and rest.", he continued. After that he walked away without another word.
Their journey across Germania was fraught with perils. First they were ambushed halfway by the enemy and lost 300 men from the IV legion along with 70 from the XII and the entire 5th cohort of the X legion. A lot of casualties suffered but it was a victory nonetheless. Eurylochus felt a shiver down his spine as he thought about the recent battle. He was alright but it left him a bit shaken. This mission was hardly beginning and already they have lost such an astounding number of men. What was next he thought.
The legions finally reached the clearing with a wide and open field. Eurylochus knew that this would be the ground of the next battle. It gave him some comfort to know that this was terrain where cowardly ambushes were of no use. They pitched camp and prepared for the coming battle. The next morning before the sun rose and the cock crowed, the entire Roman camp was awoken by the sound of trumpets. "Up! GET UP!", shouted a centurion. Eurylochus took his sword and shield and rushed out of his tent when he saw that they were taken by surprise. Many of the legionaries haven't donned their armor yet. "What is happening?", Eurylochus asked stupidly. "We are being flanked on the right you boy-loving fool! Get to your position! Now!", shouted the centurion. "Lock the shields! Form shieldwall!", he shouted to the cohort as the barbarians neared their lines. "Hold them and push them back! FOR ROME!", cried the centurion. Eurylochus uttered a prayer to the gods asking for victory as the battle started. It was bloody. The barbarians flanked the IV legion and swept the entire left wing away in one swift blow, while the X legion on the center continued to hold against the famed Germanic berserkers. On the right the XII fared better than their comrades and in a daring move pushed the entire barbarians left wing and surrounded the berserkers. The cavalry which was now finished with their enemy counterparts swung around and attacked the barbarian right from the rear which resulted in the barbarians losing their nerve and retreating. After mopping up the remnants of the barbarian army, the victory trumpet was sounded.
Rome won this round and successfully defended her Rhine frontier. The enemy will be back that is true, but glorious Rome will prevail.
Submission 9
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:I was impatiently scrutinizing Apollonia’s tax returns, looking for any loopholes that might have been used. The governor there was very good at attempting to not pay full taxes, never using the same tactic twice in a row. I had enough problems in my kingdom, not to mention those foul Roman barbarians to the north. It was quite infuriating to have to solve these petty games when I had more important problems to deal with. A knock came on the door, and Theodosius unobtrusively entered. I told my loyal secretary to have no one enter, and he broke the very rule he was supposed to administer.
“What is it?” I asked with as much patience I could muster. He was, after all, guilty of directly defying my orders.
“Sir,” Theodosius began, “King Ptolemy Ceraunus has been killed by invading Gauls-”
“WHAT!?” King Ptolemy Ceraunus of Macedon was a close friend and ally for the last two years. This was bad news.
“-and the Macedons have asked you to ascend their throne as king.”
Well, this was good news after all. Macedon phalanxes might give the edge I need over Roman legions. But before I could properly respond someone else burst into the room, nearly flattening the slightly built secretary.
It was Herostratus, a senior-ranked messenger. He had already begun talking, oblivious to the stumbling Theodosius. “King Pyrrhus,” he bowed, “I have received word that the Greeks of Sicily as a whole have asked you to lead them against Carthage and Rome in there lands as their general.”
This day just keeps getting better. But what choice should I make that will better harm Rome? Should I be King Pyrrhus of Epirus and Sicily, or King Pyrrhus of Epirus and Macedon?
“Sir, the Romans have crossed the Trebia!” my runner alerted me. In the distance a little under a mile away I could see dust in the air and mud downstream, signaling large enemy movements.
“All of them?” I asked, hardly above a whisper.
“Practically.”
“Hannibal,” my shield and armor bearer said to me expectantly, “Now?”
“Wait,” I replied, “Wait until they are committed.” Patience is the mark of a true general.
Doubts plagued me. Would I win like at Sagus River or Saguntum, or will it be as miserable as the march to the Alps? Would my outnumbered conglomeration Carthaginian citizens, Libyans, Spaniards, and Gauls prevail against a true Italian army, with superior infantry?
Now is not the time for this. You can do this. Remember what Father taught you.
“Now.” The shield and armor-bearer blew a horn, signaling Mago’s detachment from the south to begin his attack from behind.
A few moments later I ordered my main army to begin a counterattack. It was not easy for several ethnicities to when to march as one, but I had trained them well. Well enough that we could beat Rome.
Baal, I thought reverently, I am in your service and Carthage’s forever. Let Mago come on time.
The Battle of Trebia had begun. The Invasion of Italy has commenced.
Where were those reinforcements? I sent my men on a desperate charge that cost many lives days ago. The Roman had already finished a wall around my own was nearly done with an even larger second wall facing outward. My reinforcements were not going to come as a surprise. It is unfortunate, but there are at tens of thousands of them coming. My situation was desperate. All the women and children here are at the no-man’s land, starving like the rest of us. The Mandubii’s plan hadn’t worked against the cunning Julii. I had worked my mind against his for months now. I was running out of tricks.
My beloved homeland and so many others’ are going to fall to the Romans. I did what I could, but now I will suffer what I must from a betrayal by those I called my friends. The relief force has abandoned me. . . .
No! Do not think like that! It was despair in a moment of fatigue, nothing more! More men are coming to my aid, then we will completely outnumber the Romans: three to one at least. We will win, then. We must, for all of Gaul.
I gazed below at the trenches and wall the Roman had built, trapping me in this fortress, trying to ignore the children’s’ cries for food and help in between the walls of opposing encampments. I wish my men had something to give them, but there was nothing I could do put pace for them.
A few hours later, I heard a cheer from the other side of the camp. Drawing my sword and preparing for the worst, I rushed with all the strength I had left to see the commotion, preparing for the worst.
I received the best.
The reinforcements have arrived, ready to take part in the battle! One hundred thousand fresh men! I hardly remember now the speed and ease of moving when one is not half-starved. The relief force was about to throw themselves at the walls. They needed help. My help.
I ran to the stables and grabbed my magnificent white horse and mounted as best I could. I began running throughout Alesia brandishing my sword, rallying my men.
“To me! To me! Run and ride with me! March with Vercingetorix against the Romans!”
We will break the Romans, or ourselves be broken.
All these men and more valiantly marched against Rome, to be defeated sooner or later. There fates hardly vary; they receive death, some more heroically than others. How did men of such intellect and will meet the same end? They fought a Rome that didn’t give up or give in. They fought a Rome learns from defeat, not be destroyed by it. They fought a Rome whose people were proud to be Roman, who would refuse to no other. As Livy put it in The Early History of Rome Book I “I hope my passion for Rome’s past has not impaired my judgment; for I do honestly believe that no country has ever been greater or purer than ours. . .” This belief, unanimously agreed my a million souls to the core of their being, is what made Rome unstoppable.
But Rome had lost it. They lost their sense of pride of being Roman, for luxury often given becomes an expectation. They could reach no higher, and despite all their reforms, they could not continue going up to satisfy anyone enough. The Romans forsook anything they found worth keeping and submitted themselves to have other peoples rule them, the opposite of previous centuries in their history. They lost their patriotism, ideals, and ethics.
Pray we do not do the same.
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