Legionary

Chapter 12

The senate house echoed with the daily rabble as Tarquitius took to his feet. He had studied the faces of this collection of grey-haired men; happy to be part of the hustle and bustle, to rise to comfortable mediocrity, but never more. A purple-fringed toga and a seat on the marble steps was enough for them. Tarquitius’ hair, or what he had left around the sides, was still flecked with the gold of youth, and here he was, about to surpass these old men.

A hundred minor debates simmered as he decided it was time for them to take notice. Taking the golden effigy of an eagle from his cloak, he carefully screwed it on to his staff. A smirk rose from one corner of his mouth as he stood.

‘Senate of Constantinople,’ he said quietly, making no impression on the rabble as he stepped onto the circular floor space.

‘Senate of Constantinople,’ he barked this time. Again, nothing. His face betrayed a snarl as he hurled the staff onto the senate floor.

‘Senate of Constantinople!’ He bellowed. The clatter of the staff and effigy echoed throughout the room along with his lament. The squabbling voices died. Tarquitius strode down the steps and onto the floor, stooping to pick up the staff; all eyes were fixed on his movements. He felt ten feet tall.

He burned his stare into each of the senators, circling the floor. Then, when they began to cough and shuffle in discomfort, he raised the staff horizontally with one hand at each end, before bringing it down over his knee with a crack. A collective gasp filled the room. Their faces said it all, he thought; lambs, not men of action.

‘Senate of Constantinople,’ he spoke in his original gentle tone. ‘The empire needs you now more than ever,’ he lied. ‘Her very existence hangs in the balance, far from here yet at the same time perilously close.’ Murmurs of concern rippled around the hall. ‘The great river Danubius to the north holds back a swell of barbarians and the Goths grow ever more restless along her banks. Their ferocity cannot be underestimated, but what of the countless tribes behind them, numbering millions upon millions, driving from the east.’ He stopped and let his echo reverberate and die. Not a sound in reply could be heard. ‘It is only a matter of time before our defences are breached. Your homes will be fired, your daughters raped.’

At once, a rabble broke out. ‘Sit down, Senator Tarquitius. We have faith in our border legions,’ one of the senators yelped over the rest. ‘It is civil unrest in the urban centres that we must address today. The Christian fundamentalists have burned the Arian Church in Philippi!’

Tarquitius continued as if the man had never spoken. ‘Ah yes, the border legions, the famous limitanei,’ he mocked, ‘scoundrels of the empire brushed to its borders to serve alongside cowering farmer-boys.’ He quickly dismissed the flitting mental image of Pavo and the briefest memory of the rasping crone in the market. ‘Trained in weeks and clad in rusting armour from ages past.’ He gazed at the brave senator, who foundered, his lip trembling as he sought a riposte. Tarquitius continued, now with a grave tone. ‘They match our aggressors neither in number, nor in ability.’

Another senator cut in. ‘What are you here to say, Senator Tarquitius?’

Tarquitius turned to his latest challenger. ‘Isn’t it obvious, my brothers?’ He looked up to the back of the senate room to the figure of Bishop Evagrius, silhouetted in the shadows of the archway entrance above the steps. He continued. ‘Rome builds, and thus she must protect herself. For we must stand up and roar back at our enemies.’ Evagrius emerged from the shadows, his eyes narrowed and piercing as Tarquitius’ speech intensified.

‘I ask you, my fellow senators, to commission a new legion. A legion born and bred to attack and destroy, not to sit on our borders peering nervously from behind expensive fort walls. A legion with licence to cross our frontiers and cripple these barbarian wretches; a legion of comitatenses, to allow our empire to throw off the shackles and breathe deeply once more.’

The stunned senators looked to one another and sure enough, the rabble broke out once again. Tarquitius let it all wash over him. Aulus, one of the most senior and respected senators, stood up and shouted the loudest.

‘What you propose is simply not possible. The coffers are dry as it is, and we are already taxing the citizens too highly — reports of rioting in the Greek provinces come almost daily. We are all aware of the danger that threatens the empire from its borders, but in these difficult times we can only address this threat by further fortifying our borders.’ A handful of his peers rumbled in agreement.

Tarquitius nodded seemingly in appreciation.

‘I will not argue with you, Senator Aulus, for what you say is fact. We all have our opinions on whether this is the best course of action. So let us decide this in the true spirit of the senate. Let us put it to the vote.’

Aulus’ brow furrowed and his hands dropped to his sides as the room bubbled with a chorus of agreement. The senators shuffled to their feet to begin the vote. Tarquitius, however, was already hatching the next stage of the plan. His eyes met with those of Bishop Evagrius, whose gold had already determined the outcome of the vote. Both men afforded a sly smile.