Marcus held reservations about being praised as such. Camillus had assigned him to his personal staff on hearing he’d cheated death. Yet how could he claim a feat of bravery when he owed his survival to mercy?
Sharing the relief and joy of discovering both he and Drusus had survived had not lasted long. His promotion threatened a deeper rift between them. The Claudian had been promoted to a head decurion for his daring ride. But such a reward was insignificant compared to being a dictator’s personal aide. And Mastarna’s accusation of cowardice continued to weigh on Marcus. Soon he was avoiding Drusus whenever he could, lacking courage to confront him.
Medullinus crossed his arms. “So what are your plans, Brother? How exactly do you propose Rome defend itself?”
“How do we defend ourselves? By attacking! Scipio will march north to call Mastarna’s bluff. And I’ll clean up the mess left by you and your fellow consular generals in the matter of the Votive Games. I’ll also assuage the gods of Latium by irrigating its floodplains.” He pointed to the haruspex. “Just as Lord Artile prescribed months ago.”
All turned to the priest. Throughout the discussions, the haruspex had given the appearance of being disinterested, examining the corner buttresses that supported the high ceiling as the men talked. Now he focused his attention on them. “General Camillus is correct. The preconditions for victory over Veii must be met as quickly as possible.”
“Such plans are all very well, Brother, but how are you to achieve them with reduced manpower?” said Medullinus. “Two of our regiments suffered heavy losses. And the third has been decimated at your decree.”
Camillus’s eyes narrowed. “I make no apology about reminding soldiers that both the desire for conquest, and the threat of punishment, must motivate a man. And lack of men will not be an issue. I’ll call for volunteers to swell the ranks of the legions. And I’ll use some retired veterans from the home guard who are still fit for battle.”
Genucius frowned, adjusting his eye patch. “The executions have unnerved many. And now you plan to call more farmers to leave their crops? For worn bones to bear the weight of armor again? If so, something will need to be done about the booty denied them. Talk of peace is upon the lips of my fellow people’s tribunes, too.”
Camillus gripped the armrests of his chair. “Why is there always resistance from the commons! There won’t be land to farm if we don’t address this crisis! And the best chance to share the spoils is to seize the vast territory of Veii. Besides, I have a reform in mind that might please you and Icilius Calvus. I’ll swell the ranks of the cavalry with eminent plebeians who can provide their own horses.”
All the patricians bristled. The gods had visited calamity on Rome when plebeian generals were chosen. Now aristocrats were expected to ride into battle with men who’d not been born to hold bit and bridle. Marcus felt disconcerted as well. Wealthy plebeians might be able to ride a horse to hunt, but it was a different matter to control a stallion in battle.
He also expected Genucius to show surprise at Camillus’s suggestion, but instead the plebeian nodded as though familiar with the prospect. “I’d be honored to be a knight. And such a proposal will go a long way to placating the people.”
Camillus turned to the patricians, not waiting to hear their complaints. “Spurius, organize engineers to see to the irrigation. I will visit Satricum to offer Rome’s apologies for its neglect of their gods and declare a date for duly consecrated games. And I’ll promise to honor Mater Matuta by restoring her temple in Rome. The Latin Pact will be renewed. Thereafter we’ll have allied troops to assist the Boar Legion at Anxur and Labicum.”
He addressed Scipio next. “As Master of the Horse, you must once again surround Nepete, Falerii, and Capena. Let’s take the fight to the Twelve and see if they indeed have a desire to breach Rome’s wall. Postumius’s deserters will go with you.”
“And what are Aemilius and I to do?” said Medullinus. “Have you forgotten we’re still consular generals?”
“And lucky to remain so. You’ll assist Scipio. And Aemilius will act as prefect of Rome. His survivors can swell the ranks of the home guard for the time being. I will take Titinius’s men with me south.”
Aemilius glared. “I’m to be denied an active command, then?”
“You’re badly wounded. Given your age, there’s no shame in leading the home guard. And Calvus and his cronies may continue to stir up unrest. I’ll need a calm head here.”
Aemilius pursed his lips but said nothing again. Marcus doubted his father appreciated the reminder of his advancing years.
“And Veii?” asked Spurius. “Who’s to command there?”
“No one. I want to lure Mastarna into a false sense of security. Once Rome has expiated its transgressions, and all our warfronts are under control, I’ll once again turn my sights on his city. And when I do, I’ll be the one to conquer it.”
“Again I question how this is to be done,” drawled Medullinus.
Camillus stood. “Freed from all other conflicts, our two legions and our allies will attack the northwest bridge. I’ll lead a force of six thousand men to swarm over the wall of Veii at its weakest point.”
“You only have six months, Brother,” said Medullinus, brushing his thinning hair across his pate. “Where’s the money to fund these strategies? How are already weary soldiers expected to continue fighting?”
“We need to push through exhaustion. Respite will come with victory. As will riches. In the meantime, the Senate must allow me to exhaust the treasury’s coffers.” He jabbed his finger at Medullinus. “And not you, nor anyone else, can stand in my way.”
Marcus sensed the shock of those present. The consular general stood. “Careful, Brother. Rome does not tolerate despots.”
“We all need to calm down,” said Spurius. “Camillus is right. It’s time to cast aside past grievances and jealousies for the good of Rome. He’s been given half a year. Let’s not question his authority.”
Scipio added, “Listen to Spurius. Camillus needs men who will stand beside him, not undermine him.”
Medullinus looked as though he’d been forced to drink a nasty-tasting tonic. “Very well. I will put enmity aside for the sake of the Republic.”
Aemilius winced as he reached for his crutches, leaning on one to help him stand. “Your goals are bold, Camillus. And audacity may be our only chance. I’ll support you for six months. But if Veii is not taken by then, I’ll be proposing the Senate consider peace talks.”
The dictator frowned, then nodded. “Accepted. But I don’t plan to fail.” He pointed to the doorway. “Go. You have your orders.” He beckoned to Spurius. “You stay. We need to discuss our plans.”
As the generals turned, Genucius rose from his stool. In the flurry of the others’ exchange, he’d been forgotten. “And what are my orders?”
Camillus swiveled around. He seemed disconcerted he’d overlooked the politician. “You’re now a knight. As Master of the Horse, Scipio will determine your role, given he’s in charge of all Roman cavalries.”