After the herald left the chamber, the generals erupted into a chorus of concern. Mastarna raised his hands. “One at a time.”
Lusinies sat down. “This is dire news. The only zilath from the Twelve who came to our aid has perished. And Rome threatens Nepete. No other city is going to help us now.”
Feluske shifted his weight on his seat as though to relieve pressure on his hip. “I dread saying this, my lord, but we may have to sue for peace. Supplies are diminishing. If we cede some of our farmland to the Romans, it may well appease them.”
Lusinies nodded. “Feluske is right. Both cities have suffered. A plague ravaged Rome last year. Their soldiers are weary of fighting all year round. I’m sure they would be happy to be home on their farms rather than camping under tents with a griping belly.”
A sharp pulse beat in Caecilia’s temple; she was disturbed to hear talk of capitulation. Didn’t these men know that land alone would not satisfy the Romans? The enemy would expect a reckoning, too. Would these principes require Vel to hand her over in return for supplies? “Do you think Rome would be satisfied with a scrap thrown to them like some morsel fed to a pet dog? We are dealing with a wolf that’ll tear out the throat of its prey and devour its carcass!”
Lusinies halted and stared at her, while Feluske and Karcuna swiveled their heads toward the king. Caecilia realized she’d overstepped herself in voicing her opinion. She’d grown used to independence, but in this room she had no standing. Her presence in the war chamber was on the indulgence of her husband.
Vel ignored their indignation. “You all know Caecilia speaks the truth. A few parcels of land won’t be enough for Rome. Veii would be required to bend its knee. Is that what you want? To be governed by our enemy after all we’ve endured?”
Feluske’s voice hardened in a way Caecilia had never heard before. “Will you let your pride prevent you from providing sustenance to your people, my lord? A truce could be arranged on mutual terms. After all, there was peace for twenty years until you . . .” He faltered.
Karcuna Tulumnes thumped the table. “Say it, Feluske. Until Mastarna married her. The descendant of Mamercus Aemilius, who paraded the head of my father on a spear at the battle of Fidenae.”
“Be careful how you refer to your queen, Karcuna,” growled Mastarna. “And Mamercus Aemilius killed my father, too. Veii was forced into a precarious peace after the defeat. I wedded Caecilia to maintain the truce.”
The tic in Karcuna’s cheek flickered. Despite Vel’s admonishment, he thumped the wood again. “But then you married her a second time! This war would never have begun if she’d returned to her people.”
Mastarna stood, his arms straight, his palms flat against the table. “So what do you propose? For me to surrender my wife to her executioners? You know the seeds of conflict were sown long before she escaped. And she would never have fled at all if your brother had not threatened to have her murdered and raped!”
Caecilia tried to remain calm. “Lord Tulumnes, you pledged allegiance to my husband to heal the rift between your Houses. Is your word worth so little? Would you see Veii weakened again by internal strife when it’s facing its greatest crisis?”
Karcuna opened his mouth to speak, but Lusinies strode across to him and placed his hand on the princip’s shoulder. “We can’t begin fighting among ourselves again. Caecilia has declared her fealty. It’s time for the Tulumnes clan to stop threatening her.”
Feluske nodded. “She’s our queen and should be shown respect. There’s no way I would ever condone her being harmed.”
The words of support sent a rush of gratitude through her.
“Show me the vow you swore to me was not false,” said Mastarna. “Apologize!”
Hands balled, Karcuna bowed his head with unwilling deference. The rancor of two generations was engrained in him. “I seek your pardon, my lady.”
Despite the princip’s grudging tone, Caecilia decided to be gracious. “Your apology is accepted.”
Seconds passed as though time was dragging its heels. The belligerent mood eased. Mastarna sat down, gesturing Karcuna and Lusinies to do the same. Feluske turned to the king. “Then what are we to do, my lord? If you will not treat, what are our alternatives? We cannot sit here trapped and starving.”
Mastarna hunched forward. “Postumius is unpopular with his troops. Unhappy soldiers lack self-restraint and determination. The security of the fortifications to the northeast of the city has grown lax. There may yet be an opportunity for us.”
Tarchon found the nerve to speak after listening to his elders arguing. “An opportunity to do what, Father? Force a breach?”
“Not a frontal assault but a night attack. I want to break through the northeast siege lines. The unit waiting for Thefarie’s messenger outside the Capena Gate can set the stockades and forts to the flame as a distraction while we launch an assault. Take the Romans by surprise while they’re sleeping and their sentinels are bored and dozing.”
Caecilia was pleased to hear his fervor, seeing the energy rise in him. And yet there was a nub of anxiety within her at the danger Vel craved.
Lusinies smiled. “After that, our troops will ensure no blockade is reinstated by continuing to ride out and skirmish.”
Mastarna raised his hand. “Yes, the armies stationed in the city can do that. But the force that breaches the Roman lines will march to defend Nepete. From there we rally the Twelve to attack Rome when the League meets at the sacred fountain at Velzna in mid spring.”
Lusinies scratched one of his thickened earlobes. His laugh was nervous. “My lord, I hardly think we can launch an invasion. And the Brotherhood will be concerned with shoring up its own defenses if General Aemilius does attack Nepete.”
“That’s the very reason why the League must take a stand,” said Mastarna. “Nepete is the key. It opens the way for Rome to stalk the northern cities as well. We need to destroy the wolves’ den, not just pursue the packs that raid our territories.” He rose, opening his palm and extending it toward his wife. “We need to heed Aemilia Caeciliana’s call to conquer Rome.”
Karcuna’s attention fixed on the queen. She felt the heaviness of his stare. He’d sworn fealty to Vel, but was there a residue of rebellion? The keenness in his voice took her by surprise. “There is risk in the scheme, my lord, but perhaps it’s what is required. We can’t remain defensive any longer. And I have always wanted to see Rome occupied. Which of us do you propose should march north to put the plan in train?”
“I will lead the force. Their leaders trust me.”
Caecilia stifled the impulse to cry out. Vel could die in her quest to destroy Rome.
“But your army has been decimated, my lord,” said Feluske. “Surely it’s more prudent for you to remain here.”