~ Pax Res Publica ~ A Serial Roman Historical Fiction - by isa0005

[isa0005]

From the award winning author of


"In the shadow of the Eagle"
A Napoleonic Adventure

AND



A Cyberpunk Short Story.

COMES...

[isa0005]

Forward
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(Out now!)
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IV

[isa0005]

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Ave citizens!

For those who don’t know me, my name is isa0005. Before we begin, I’d like to explain what my intentions are for this work of creative historical fiction. For those of you who have read some of my other work, I’ve often tended to go for the longer style of writing with the intention of having overarching plots, a large array of characters, with a general longer form in mind. Much of this has been written as works of historical fiction, although I have dabbled in science fiction, as some of you may well know. I’ve also written some shorter stories, which have been received here with some moderate success.


With this in mind, my intention is present a series of short pieces of historical fiction set during the latter part of the Roman Republic, a period of history that deeply fascinates me. The first of these, as you will discover, shall be set within the Roman city of Capua, during the infamous Third Servile War (71-73 BCE) also known as the Gladiator War and The War of Spartacus, respectively. As a history student, I’ve always had a fascination with the untold stories, especially those of the lower and middle classes.


While these shorter works will be connected by an overarching theme or event, be that the Third Servile War or some other occurrence during this period of history, the characters will remain separated and shall exist within their own worlds. Some of their stories I may also discontinue based on both my interests and indeed the time I have available to work on them. Overall my intention is to explore the lives of your average individual during this period of history, be they a gladiator, slave, soldier, magistrate. I will try and avoid characters who are larger than life, as I feel that they tend to offer a rather narrow view of what Roman life may have been like.


I intend for each story to be as historically accurate as I am able to make them, with of course allowances made for the purposes of storytelling. As such, I’d ask, for any who read this, that they offer what assistance they could in terms of historical research and/or ideas. I’d also like to ask that if you see any grammatical, spelling or any other form of error, that you point them out. I am very open to constructive criticism and I appreciate any advice that anyone can provide.


With this all said and done, I’d like to say that I hope everyone enjoys my work as much as I have done writing it, feel free to share some rep if you do, every little bit of encouragement helps!

[isa0005]

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Aprilis, 681 Ab Urbe Condita,
In the Spring of the Consulship of Lucullus and Longinus
Forum Calavius - Central Capua.
Campania felix, Italia.

“Citizens! Ample reward is offered to any who may provide information on several missing slaves, either stolen or absconded from the House of Marcus Verus.” Gesticulated the praeco of the Forum Calavius. “Floralia begins on the Ides, all temples shall be shut, no weddings celebrated. Festivities will begin upon the sixth hour! Under the sponsorship of Praefectus Capuam Cumas,Accius Pompo and the House of Gnaeus Cornelius Lentulus Vatia. The Ludi Florae shall be held at the Amphitheatrum Campania, wine and sweetmeats to be provided by the Pompeiian Vinters Brotherhood and the Millers Fraternity of Capua, in other news…” the crier paused

“You know, I’ve always wondered where that old Catullus gets all his ‘news’ from” Said Brasus a hulking Dacian, as he flexed his oiled muscles “He just appears, tells us all what’s what as if he had Mercury’s ear”

“You might be right” Chuckled Nikomedia, a Greek woman. “Something tells me however there is a little more to our friend Catullus the praeco, he is a close and personal friend of Master Vatia after all.”

“...Rebellion continues in the province of Hispania Ulterior led by the renegade Quintus Sertorius. The Senate urges all able bodied men to enlist now! Join the Legions, for the Senate and for the People of Rome!”

“Now there’s something I can understand, bloody war!” Brasus hefted Nicomedes onto his shoulders with ease, a crowd gathering nearby to watch.

“Oh? Pray tell friend, what do you understand of war?” Nicomedia asked, deftly balancing on one leg as she tossed a knife about.

“I’ll have you know…!”

“We all know the story my Dacian friend…” Nikomedia interrupted “you bested Brennus, Champion of the Senones, the greatest warrior of all of Gaul in single combat. I’m sure even Megas Alexandros would be amazed by your strategic prowess in beating a shriveled old man to death.”

“He was hardly an old man!” Brasus protested

“Yes he was, I was right beside you the moment you sprang on him and crushed his skull with your bare hands! The crowd bloody loved it, ha!” Nikomedia threw her blade at a distant target, scoring a bulls-eye, much to the gathering crowds pleasure.

“...funeral munera shall be delivered for Gaius Aurelius Cotta in Rome on the nones of Maius. All expenses shall be paid for from the public purse in honourable recognition of his services to the Senate and the Roman people!”

“Shut it you two!” Came the voice of Flavius Galba, Lannister of the Familia Vatia “Or I’ll have Varo here throw you in the Hole with those bloody Germans and mad Thracians!” Galba gestured to his left where stood a middle aged Samnite from Picenum. His name was Quintilius Varo, the primus palus, first sword of this performing gladiatorial troupe.

“Oh come off it! Varo, you wouldn’t let ol’Galba do that to us would you? Vatia paid good money for us” Nikomedia pouted playfully, despite knowing the seriousness of Galba’s threats and the death sentence that was the Hole.

“Damn right I would!” Varo barked “now get back to it, you’re gladiators not nattering wives! Show these people what they came to see!” Galba nodded with approval, his wrinkled, flabby jowls wobbling.

“You really think Varo would do that?” Brasus whispered as Nikomedia deftly leapt from the Dacian’s heavy frame, bowing deeply.

“You know what Galba’s like, the bastards as mad as a syphilitic dog”

“But Master Vatia is the editor, he payed good money for us and we win our fights... most of them”

“Yes but Galba is the lanista and as far as Master Vatia is concerned, he’s is the reason that Vatia is the richest, most powerful man this side of the Apenninus. His word might as well spring from the mouth of Jupiter Optimus Maximus himself.” Nikomedia sighed “if it weren’t for that incident with Gannicus and Castus then things might have been different.” Galba had once been peaceable man. Though he ran the charges into the sand when the arena demanded it, despite his harsh ways, he was once much loved by the gladiators of the Familia Vatia. Now he was a bloodthirsty tyrant demanding nothing less than victory or death.

“We’re the best of our bloody ludus has!” Brasus crossed his arms, pouting like a child who had their sweets taken from them.

“So? Look what’s happened to that Thracian and his Galic friend. They were the best and now look where they are! Neck deep in their own filth, in a hole no smaller than a pig's ass!” Galba walked to the centre of the forum, glancing at the praeco for a moment silence.

“Thank you citizens for your patronage! To show the people of Capua our gratitude, the House of Vatia has a special special treat for you all, a taste of the combats to come” From behind the gladiators stepped forward a short yet seemingly handsome middle aged man. Dressed in a sweeping, white Toga virilis that denoted his patrician class, the man’s hair was cut short and styled with the ‘elegant’ oiled curls that were apparently all the rage among the young aristocrats in Rome. Bearing no jewellery of any sort he cut quite the fine austere figure. Varo thought he might have been a some wealthy senator come to visit the Capua for the coming festivities, it was not until the man turned to Galba, with his hawkish eyebrows raised disdainfully that Varro realised it was in fact Master Vatia.

“Well then?” Master Vatia spoke, eyeing Brassus and Nikomedia briefly before turning his pockmarked face that bore a rather unsightly, dark birthmark on its right cheek, towards the crowd with a magnanimous smile. Clearing his throat, Galba’s face was bright red with rage

“Varo, if you please!” The lanista ordered, Varro standing to attention like a soldier on parade as he proceeded to command several men from the wings of the forum. Gathering at the centre, they bore wooden clubs, staves and where armoured in gladiator’s panoply. In homage to the Goddess Flora they were bedecked in crowns of roses, their trained and toned bodies oiled and scented with the finest of perfumes. Reaching for his wooden Rudis, a symbolic short sword that denoted his place as a freedman, he waved the weapon in a cutting motion, signalling the coming mock battle begin.

Expertly choreographed, so as to avoid the disembowelment and gore that so often occurred within the Arena. The melee was a sight to behold as these expert gladiators, ducked and weaved, struck and slashed with their weapons. Some men fell, unconscious from an accidental blow, others bled but continued to fight on, driven by the prospect of bonus pay and a night with one of Master Vatia slave women.

Ignoring the combat, Varo turned to watch Nikomedia and Brasus depart amidst the cries of hawkers, merchants. He smiled ruefully as he watched them fade into the crowds, trusting that they would return to the ludus on their own. Despite what Galba had threatened, Varro couldn’t and wouldn’t throw either of them to their deaths if he could help it. They were some of the finest that the Familia Gladiatoria Vatia could provide and the closest things the aging gladiator had to children.

“I’ll have their hides you know” Galba spoke beneath the din, Varo remained silent. “The way they humiliated me in front of Master Vatia, they had no right! I am the lainsta! I am the very foundation of the Ludus Vatia! I the agent of the Goddess Victoria, the master of Champions!” Galba spat “Fortuna curse them!”

“... as the threat of piracy in our seas continues” Continued the praeco “ the Praefecti Capuam Cumas has issued a warning that any individual caught participating in the act of high-seas banditry or unlicensed privateering shall punished by Damnatio ad Bestias”

Damnation to wild beasts? Now there’s a show that always gets the crowd going Varro smirked Good thing I’m no pirate.

[isa0005]

Hope you enjoy the first part of this story everyone! Let me know in the comments what you think and don't forget to rep!

[Alwyn]

I like your idea of telling untold stories from the Gladiator War/War of Spartacus, exploring the lives of ordinary people during these dramatic events. I enjoyed your opening chapter, particularly the commentary by Brasus and Nikodemia on the news of the day. Their commentary and speculation got me thinking about whether these reported events will have significance later on (for example, will the missing slaves or even the pirates become the core of a slave rebellion - and what was the incident involving Gannicus and Castus? I wonder if we will find out - looking forward to more!

[isa0005]

Thanks, I'm glad you enjoyed it. I shall be posting up another short shortly!

[isa0005]

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Aprilis, 681 Ab Urbe Condita,
In the Spring of the Consulship of Lucullus and Longinus
Praetorium - Residence of the Praefecti Capuam Cuma - Central Capua
Campania Felix, Italia.

Where it not for his fine golden curls, plump cheeks and round silver eyes Accius Pompo, the Praefecti Capuam Cumas, might have appeared as the visage of Furor, the god of rage himself. Instead this man-child appeared little more than a flustered cherub, an appearance most unbecoming of the most powerful man in all of Capua and the Campanian province.

“What in damnation are a bunch of gladiators doing in my forum!” Exclaimed the Praefecti launching a pile of papyrus into the air as he sat at his desk “no, don’t tell me, they’re Scaurus’ men aren't they? I swear by the Gods I’ll have him crucified for this...”

“Dominus they’re here for…” began his slave and personal assistant, a young Italian by the name of Tarentulus.

“Honestly! How in Jupiter’s name will the forum ever be ready for Floralia with those beasts battering each other unconscious?”

“Dominus if you would just…”

“How dare you interrupt me boy, I’ll have you crucified too!” Pompo rose to hurl a rather hefty bronze wine cup at the young slave.

“They’re Vatia’s men Dominus, you sent for them four days ago to perform in the forum” Tarentulus sputtered hastily, hiding behind his wax record tablet.

“I did what…?” Pompo paused

“You sent for them four days ago…”

“Yes, yes boy I’m not deaf, why did I send for them?”

“It was a special request of Master Vatia, he asked for a minor display. He suggested that it might increase the turnout to this month's games.”

“Did he now? Where and when precisely was this agreement made?”

“Dominus?” The slave looked up at his master. Despite being his personal aid, he was most certainly not privy to such precise information

“You heard me boy!” Pompo hurled the cup, the object sailing over the slaves head and battering harmlessly on the wooden doors behind him.

“...I don’t know, I-i-i received a message from one of Master Vatia’s couriers expressing his interests three days ago.”

“Three days ago, hmmm…? Jupiter be damned, that was the night after Verus’ wife’s birthday was it not?”

“Yes, Dominus, the document came with you seal of approval…” Pompo stood straight, eyeing the slave as if he had some masterful powers of detection at his disposal.

“Ah, I see…” Pompo searched his memory of that night, yet little came of it besides vague images of drunken debauchery and the usual gluttonous behaviour that was to be expected of the house House of Verus. Vatia you cunning little weasel Pompo smirked he’s almost as bad a conniving Helot. No doubt during the event, Vatia had cornered Pompo, knowing all too well that when drunk the Praefecti was a most agreeable individual.

“Shall I call the Urban Prefect?” Tarentulus interrupted Pompo’s train of thought

“What? Why by the Gods would I want that?”

“To have the gladiators removed, Dominus?”

“Gods no! The last thing I need is that cheeky swine and his wife breathing down my neck, we all know of Lady Vatia’s friends in Rome after all.” Although he’d never admit it, half the funding he received from the Senate was by in large due to the support of the Vatia family. Rumour had it they even had the ear of the Junior Consul, their gladiators fighting all across the Republic for the enjoyment of all its citizens.

“Yes Dominus” Tarentulus remained behind his wax tablet, sweating profusely. It had been an especially hot and humid Spring this year, with many dying of heatstroke and dehydration. Just days ago, one of Pompo’s very own warehouses had burnt down, the ensuing chaos of the blaze allowing for the escape of a number of expensive slaves from a nearby auction.

“Oh come now Tarentulus my beautiful boy! I wouldn’t have struck you, truly, by the gods of my household I swear it. I am dearly sorry for frightening you, you know I could never do without you, you are dearer to me than my own wife I should think”

“Yes Dominus, thank you Dominus” The slave boy smiled meekly as he came out from behind his wax tablet. Before returning his attention to his daily tasks as Praefecti, Pompo took a moment to gaze upon Tarrentulas. Just barely a man, Pompo admired the boy’s youth, his soft skin and those big, brown eyes. Where it not for his duties as Praefecti, Pompo would have ravished him with kisses there and then, as he had done many times over.

“Very good, now has that ghastly man from the Millers Brotherhood arrived yet? The man smells worse than a dog dead three days and have someone fetch me some more wine would you? This heat is ruining my mood.”

[Caillagh de Bodemloze]

Well, Pompo seems to be as pompous as his name makes him sound!

Will all the short stories be connected (as the first two obviously are)? I like the way you've done that, but I can see that you might not want to keep doing it for all the stories.

[Alwyn]

I'm enjoying the character of Accius Pompo, as Caillagh said he seems to be living up to his name! I'm intrigued by his connections with the Vatia family, some of whom appeared in the previous chapter.

[isa0005]

Hi all, managed to find some time to return to this. Uni was very hectic and I had far less time then I’d hope to work on this. Now that I’ve finally finished my degree and I’ve had a nice break I’ve decided to get back into writing! With I thought I’d mention I’ve also been asked to do an honours thesis by the head of the English department at my uni, 15,000 words be the end of the year! I might even share it here on the TWC, we’ll see what happens.

Anyhow, we can expect some updates on this within a week or two. I’ve done some editing on the first two posts, which I will put up soon, but I want to get more work done before I post anything new so that I’ve at least got a few things to post over the coming weeks!

Cheers,
isa0005.

[Caillagh de Bodemloze]

I'll look forward to it (particularly the new stuff)!

[Alwyn]

Me too!

[The Wandering Storyteller]

First part is great, really excellent! More!

[isa0005]

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Aprilis, 681 Ab Urbe Condita,
In the Spring of the Consulship of Lucullus and Longinus
Horrea Servilii Rulli (Warehouses of the Servilii Rulli) - Western Capua.
Campania felix, Italia.

Centurion Marcus Aquilius Corvus crouched amidst the confines of a burnt out warehouse and defecated. Situated somewhere in Capua’s western reaches he wiped arse, stood and surveyed the carnage about him. What was left of his command, the Third Century, of the Fourth Cohort of the Ninth Legion, lay battered, bloodied and beaten.

Punished for dereliction of duties, the Third Century was ordered to assist the local Vigiles Urbani in their hunt for some escaped slaves. Corvus and his men pursued the fugitives, unaware that they were escorted by troupe of heavily armed and well trained rogue gladiators. Taken by surprise, the century was ambushed and in the violent struggle that followed they’d sustained heavy casualties.

“Jupiters balls” the centurion sighed, exhausted from the melee “right lads, those sneaky bastards gave us a right thrashing but that doesn’t mean we’re down and out, now does it?” The defeat had shattered the century’s resolve, there was little Corvus could to rebuild their moral, yet he had to try “up the Ninth!” he bellowed. The rallying cry of his legion did little to raise the men’s spirits

“Up the Ninth” his men responded with as much gusto and vigour as a aging, flea bitten mongrel.

It’s better than nothing Corvus thought, all he had left was his iron will and notoriety as one of the hardest commanders in the legion.

The slaves couldn’t have gone far, that much was certain. With only a third of the century still capable and battle ready however, Corvus and his men wouldn’t last long in a pitched battle. His one and only opportunity for victory was to play these gladiators at their own game.

“Guile is the order of the day gentlemen. I hate to say it, but it’s the only way we’ll beat these bastards” Corvus spat disapprovingly “chances are the scum have probably reached the outer edges of the Warehouse district by now. From there it’s just a hop, skip n’jump up the Via Romana and they’ll be off to bloody Neapolis.” If that happened, there was no doubt in Corvus’ mind that the Praefectus Urbanus would have Corvus and his men for breakfast.

“Begging your pardon, sir but where were the Vigiles when the fighting started?” asked Legionary Faustus, one of the old guard who served with the Ninth for the better part of two decades. Moment’s before the Third Century had been ambushed, the Vigiles had been right behind them. Lightly armed and poorly trained though they were, their support might have shifted the balance in the Third’s favour. Yet during the melee, they had all but disappeared “come to think of it is sir, where’s Optio Macro and Signifier Cato?”Dazed, Corvus had hardly noticed that his second-in-command and standard bearer where missing

“Did any of you see them during the fight?” Corvus asked

“Yes sir, they were right beside me just before the roof came down” answered Faustus. It had either been a stroke genius on the gladiator’s behalf or Fortuna played her nasty games when the warehouse ceiling came tumbling down. In one fell swoop, the Third Century’s solid shield wall was shattered, scattering the men to the four corners of the warehouse. Nevertheless, the Vigiles, his optio and standard bearer where missing, something wasn’t right. “Also sir, there’s something else I think you should know. I recognised one of the gladiators, the big fella with the twin swords.”

“And what’s that Faustus”

“Aye sir, I’ve seen him in the arena. They call him Hispanicus, on account of him being some Lusitanian prince or some such. Captured by Pompey himself they say. He’s a wiley one on the sands sir, not seen anyone fight quite like him”

[isa0005]

So I'm back and I finally gotten round to finishing and posting part three which you'll find above. Just started writing part four. Hope you like it! Also I've re-written the first and second parts as well, so give them a read!

[Alwyn]

I do like it, you've got me interested in the battered command of Marcus Aquilius Corvus, in what happened to the Vigiles during the fight in the warehouse and in the gladiator with two swords.

[isa0005]

Thanks! We'll find out what happened to them in the next part I think
Any constructive criticism is always welcome as well people

[The Wandering Storyteller]

Hi Isa,

Do you require any inline feedback on these chapters posted/

[isa0005]

I've not had much time to work on this since I posted the last chapter, but I never say no to feedback