Pinna was inside, embroidering palmettes in gold thread onto a purple toga. A purple tunic was folded next to her. At the men’s arrival, she stood, responding to Camillus’s command to serve his guests. All the politicians had grown used to her presence. Only Genucius stared at her with contempt. Marcus was astounded at how much influence she now wielded over the general. He couldn’t forget the image of her comforting “her Wolf” as he wept. It was sickening. What had happened to the man who’d warned him of the perils of falling in love?
Marcus noticed with distaste that Pinna was wearing Caecilia’s grape earrings, rings, and silver pendant. She’d not wasted her time decking herself with loot. They appeared garish on her. Having served them all, she resumed her seat, peering into the cradle next to her. Marcus stole a look at the baby. The little girl was sleeping. A pale doll with a mop of black curls and a row of tiny golden bees around her neck. Pinna resumed her work, but he could tell from the way she halfheartedly plied the needle that she was listening.
Camillus drained his cup and began pacing. “So what else are those people’s tribunes saying?”
Aemilius heaved his rumpled toga onto his shoulder. “The commoners complain they had to buy captives at auction. They say they should have been allocated.”
Camillus fumed. “Only soldiers were entitled to seize slaves. Besides, there were thousands of prisoners. Far too many for our troops to claim. There needed to be a sale. In the end those proceeds were the only ones paid into State coffers.”
Artile had entered the tent. “I fear you’re forgetting a far greater problem, Furius Camillus. You’ve failed to keep your promise to a god.”
“But the new date for the Votive Games has been proclaimed,” said Spurius. “The temple to Mater Matuta is to be reconsecrated.”
“And Juno herself has been transported to Rome,” added Camillus. “She awaits the erection of her own temple. And I ensured only surviving ordained acolytes of Uni touched her.”
Artile smoothed his eyebrow. “What about your vow to Apollo? In your people’s haste to claim their booty, no tithe was set aside for him.”
Camillus ceased pacing, color draining from his face. Head bowed, he sank onto his curule chair. The three senators looked similarly aghast.
After all his posturing, Marcus was relieved to see a glimpse of humility in the dictator. “What are we going to do, sir? How do we give one tenth when there’s not enough held in the treasury for division?”
Aemilius shook his head. “The loot should’ve been handed over to the State as is the proper process. This is what comes from breaking with custom.”
Camillus raised his head. “After my triumph I’ll resign from office. I’ve dealt with the crisis I was elected to resolve. I’ve delivered Veii to Rome. This is a matter for the Senate.”
Medullinus scowled. “And so leave a mess for the next consular generals to correct.”
Genucius snapped, “You can’t have it both ways, Medullinus. Carping that your brother should step down and then whining when he does.”
Spurius maintained his calm. “Brother, I’m afraid you can’t ignore the issue of the tithe. You’ll need to offer some advice to the Curia. You made the vow on behalf of Rome. You can’t wash your hands of it.”
Camillus frowned, then twisted around to look at Genucius. “I’m sorry, my friend. Every citizen will have to surrender one tenth of their plunder to the treasury. It’s the only way I can see to solve this.”
The plebeian flushed beet red. “You can’t ask the soldiers to do that!”
“It must apply to all, otherwise there will be insurrection.”
“He’s right, Genucius,” said Aemilius.
“I agree,” said Spurius. “But the Senate needs to be consulted first.”
Camillus turned to his older brother. “What say you?” Medullinus nodded, but Marcus saw his satisfied look at the dictator’s predicament.
“Do you think Apollo will be satisfied with such tribute?” Camillus asked Artile.
“Yes, if all Rome contributes, your contract with the deity will be kept.”
“Very well then, I’ll announce it after my triumph.”
“And so we come back to your spectacle,” said Medullinus.
Spurius frowned. “He’s merely being prudent. Let the people enjoy their holiday before receiving the bad news. Otherwise, there may be a riot.”
Aemilius put his hand on Medullinus’s arm. “Your brother deserves the accolade. He delivered the traitoress to us.”
Camillus smiled. “How does it feel to see your niece in the Carcer, Aemilius?”
“Deeply satisfying. Especially when she’s executed tomorrow.”
The dictator glanced across to the baby. “And the princess? What do you want to do with her? Artile has no interest in keeping her as a slave. After all, she is your grandniece.”
Aemilius’s gaze hovered over the child’s sleeping form. “I don’t plan to raise a half-breed foe. And I want no reminder of the shame Caecilia brought on my House. The brat will be exposed on the Esquiline.”
Marcus was stunned. His father had never expressed such an intention before.
“No!” Pinna rushed to Camillus. “You said the royal children would not be harmed!”
Aemilius glowered at her. “How dare you speak?” He transferred his scowl to Camillus. “Isn’t it time you controlled your woman?”
Taking Pinna by the elbow, Camillus pushed her behind him. “Exposing the child seems extreme, Aemilius.”
“I’m the patriarch of my family. She’s my kin. And just a girl. It’s no one’s business but my own.”
Pinna made to speak again, but Camillus snapped, “Be quiet. Go back to your sewing.”
Marcus was not prepared to be silenced. “Father, please reconsider. The princess can be given to one of our servant girls to raise. Don’t kill her. She can be sold as a slave when she’s old enough if you don’t want her under your roof.”
Aemilius walked to the tent flap. “If I wanted your opinion, I’d ask for it.”
Marcus bridled but said no more, thinking how cruel it was the little girl’s fate should be left to his father and the priest. Again, he waited for Camillus to countermand Aemilius; instead the dictator nodded, announcing that Pinna would deliver the child to the senator’s house after the triumph.
Medullinus and Spurius rose. Also callous, they offered no opinion as to Aemilius’s edict. Artile followed, not even glancing at the doomed baby.
Stricken, Pinna rocked the cradle, murmuring to the child who’d woken.
Caius Genucius remained rooted to the spot. He was sweating profusely, drops glistening on the black mat of hair protruding from his tunic.
Marcus turned to go.
“Wait, Marcus Aemilius,” said Genucius. “I want you to hear this.”
Confused, the tribune glanced across to Camillus, who signaled him to stay.
Genucius crossed his arms and fixed his gaze on the general. “Are you really going to recommend the veterans pay a tenth part to the treasury?”
“I can’t see a way around it. The army took the cream; the civilians, the dregs. To satisfy Apollo, the tithe has to be genuine.”
The plebeian stepped closer. Marcus was surprised at his threatening stance.
“How long do you think you can manipulate me?”
Camillus tensed. “What do you mean?”
“Making me a knight but denying me a cavalry command at Nepete. I’ve always supported your patrician causes to the detriment of my class. But this is important to me. For the first time in Rome’s history, poor foot sloggers have seized their fair share. They should keep it. Let the city idlers surrender their lot.”