The view from Crassus' Villa in Capri was perhaps more beautiful, but to you it could never quite measure up to the sight before you now. When, at the conclusion of the war, you had decided it was time to finally purchase a home within Rome itself Sulla's proscriptions – and your service to him – had made it relatively straightforward. And so, alongside your other investments, you had spared no expense on what would come to be your home and secured for yourself a rather impressive property upon the Palatine Hill.
You had spent quite a bit of time selecting the property that would be your home, and amongst the list of requirements one had stood clearly at the top... A great balcony from which you could overlook Rome and the great beauty it held, for your first meeting with Scaevola had long stayed with you.
And so now as you looked over the great expanse of Rome, from its winding and imperfect streets to the Forum to the Temples, from the homes of the lowliest slums to the villas of the great and powerful it instilled in you a great sense that you were home.
Unfortunately, there was one who would see all that you have taken from you.
"Pompey still speaks openly against me?"
Your voice was quiet and measured, musing rather than conversational. Indeed, if anyone else was present they would simply assume you were speaking to yourself.
Proserpina was excellent at her job.
"Yes dominus, you were wise to ask your patron not to bring any pressure to bear on him."
"Indeed," you said with a smile. "I yet know little of intrigue, but it is clear to me that if you give men the freedom to speak against you then they will do so. But force them into silence and they will simply take their conversations to hidden places where those of a like mind dwell and conspiracies are born."
Proserpina stilled for a moment before responding. "You must yet be careful dominus. As I have reported, there are still conversations held behind closed doors."
"There are," you admit. "But they are fewer than they would otherwise be."
You pause briefly, enjoying the wine and the view. "His conversations with the Dictator will not grant him my death, not after all I did, not while I have the backing of Scaevola. And the others… the others are heard by you."
"Do not worry Proserpina." You turn to smile at her. "Continue to do as you have done. As long as his private conversations still make his way to you I am safe."
"Yes dominus."
"Now," you say. "How many of my distant cousins have you found? And will any be of use?"
--------------------------------
The war against Mithridates had changed and shaped Quintus in ways he could never have imagined. They had also revealed things within the legion that he had never expected. Fate was odd like that.
One of those things was Lucius Domitius, son of Prandus. Prandus, who had fought in Spain in Legio X Hispania Invicta… First alongside, then later under the command of one Lucius Cingulatus Atellus.
And Prandus Domitius had been a fortunate man, with five sons all of whom survived to adulthood. Too many sons for his small farm. And so, some had been forced to seek their fortunes elsewhere, like his third son, Lucius.
Lucius had made his way to Italia where he enlisted in the legions, fighting under Sulla in the Social War before promptly finding himself, and his legion, on garrison duty when their beloved General departed for Greece.
And in time there came new recruits, a new commander, and a new tribune. Quintus Cingulatus, son of Lucius Cingulatus. Atellus, son of Atellus.
Atellus who had given his father glory, riches and a farm to raise his sons on. Atellus who had now given him glory and riches.
Now he stood in the dim light of the legion Barracks and watched as his Tribune, his hero, sat before him, jaw clenched in annoyance.
"It seems he won't stop Lucius, not until I am driven from Rome… or dead."
"I am yours to command, Tribune," you say.
Atellus stilled for a moment before turning to him with a smile. "I know you are Lucius, and I thank you for it."
"I still remember our first meeting Lucius," Atellus said, reminiscing. "I promoted you on the advice of Carcellus, did you know?"
"No Tribune, though I knew it had to be on the advice of another." And it was not a surprise to you, you had never had the honour of meeting the Tribune before your promotion.
Atellus chuckled briefly, "You can speak freely Lucius. I don't need unflinching obedience here."
You relax at the Tribunes words, relaxing and letting your posture settle.
"It caused me trouble I'm sure you know. The legion was split then and I hadn't realised that all the candidates recommended to me were Plebians. It was worth it though, we persevered, came together and you have all proved your worth." Atellus paused for a second, looking back to Lucius. "You above all."
"Thank you, Sir" you said, ignoring his look at your form of address. From him, that meant more to you than most people would ever understand. "The politics, the schemes of the Nobilis… I don't understand them. I'm just a Centurion, a soldier. When I have enemies, I just kill them."
Seated across the room Atellus frowned then took a deep breath before speaking. "I was the same once, I understood nothing of the game – as they think of it – but I have been forced to learn quickly. And as for your suggestion Pompey is well protected, unfortunately, and the blame would fall on me regardless." He slowed towards the end, trailing off.
The silence that followed was uncomfortable and the weight of his gaze more so. His thoughts were inscrutable to you and though the Tribune had said to be at ease in this moment you felt measured like you never had before. Whatever standard he was seeking in you, you refused to fall short.
"Unless… Unless it came from within. Within his own legion."
You still, immediately understanding what he is implying. Another man would stay silent and let the unspoken request pass and let the conversation continue. A less loyal man would weigh the benefits, the possibilities of future rewards against the burden this would be, the cost if you were to fail.
But you are his man, and this needs to be done.
"I could enlist in his legion."
Atellus took a deep breath as he seemed to consider the offer and you relax as you realise you have not misread him.
"You would need to hide your wounds," he said cautiously. "Enlist in the ranks, it would be no small thing to even manage. Much less to get close enough to him that a sword could reach its mark."
"And yet it would be no hardship Tribune, not for you." You answer firmly. "Besides, Hispania is a rough country, the natives are still restless, so my scars will be easily ignored. And my promotion came from ability, I will manage again."
You had just committed yourself to reliving years of struggle you had only just overcome. Reduced pay, and the strict discipline a newly enlisted man faced… And you regretted it not at all.
If you were honest, you had never felt prouder. To be trusted with such a thing was more than you ever imagined.
You looked across to the Tribune and saw sadness in his eyes. A strange thing, you thought, for a man just offered a solution to such a threat. But it did not surprise you that you did not understand. Great men were not easily understood.
"I will never forget this Lucius."
He didn't offer a reward, and you were glad for it. You felt it would have lessened him and you would never wish to see that.
"If I had a legion of men in your image… What place, what army could hope to stop it?"
"Thank you, Tribune."
You were wrong. You could be prouder.
