Spurius rolled his eyes. “Precisely.”
“Then he goes too far! Only soldiers who risk their lives should be rewarded. They need to recoup their losses from being denied the chance to harvest their crops.”
Pinna warmed to the plebeian’s argument. She also believed only warriors were entitled to the spoils. She looked across to her Wolf who remained silent. She was disappointed he didn’t immediately champion his men’s right to retain their loot.
Spurius sighed. “Calvus is thinking ahead to the elections. He wants to garner the support of all. He claims everyone should be given the opportunity to march to Veii and claim their share. Failure to accede to this will only plant the seeds of rebellion.”
Marcus was incredulous. “He wants to jam the road to Veii with scavengers?”
A note of anger crept into Genucius’s voice. “Never mind that. I’m more concerned that patrician officers will seize booty and land while common soldiers must pay their portion to the State.”
Pinna was surprised at the heat in his voice. She thought his rancor had lessened. After all, her Wolf had appointed him a general again. He’d been ordered to lead Postumius’s regiment back to Veii to begin excavations. And he would direct his troops through the rock galleries under the city to share some of Camillus’s glory.
Genucius had not finished his harangue. “And what’s to be done about the Legion of the Boar? Why should they be denied their share because geography separates them from the spoils?”
“Enough!” Camillus thumped the table, startling everyone around him. “I haven’t even breached Veii’s wall, and there’s already bickering over plunder!”
The officers fell silent.
“When am I to be free of Calvus’s carping?” he continued. “I’ve enough to think about without such quarrels.”
“Sir,” ventured Marcus, “perhaps it’s an issue best sorted out by the Senate.”
“Are you saying I don’t possess the ability to decide this matter?”
Marcus tensed. “Of course not, sir.
Camillus swiveled around to Artile. “What do you think?”
Pinna had forgotten the priest who sat in the corner, listening and observing as always. He was a constant malignant presence in their lives. The seer shrugged. “I doubt patrician or plebeian will be satisfied with either solution. Let your senators have the headache of determining what’s fair.”
The general tapped his gold ring three times. “Spurius, return to Rome and tell them I want this matter referred to the Curia.” He transferred his attention to Genucius. “Are you content now?”
“I’d prefer you take a stand. I doubt the Senate will consider the matter properly. As usual, they’ll decree that the plunder should be hoarded.”
Again Pinna was surprised at his frankness. Camillus glowered at him. “We’re on the eve of Rome’s greatest conquest. Do you want to waste time arguing, or do you want to prepare your troops?”
Genucius’s manner became conciliatory. “You’re right. Let’s concentrate on the attack rather than the chattering in Rome.”
Spurius rose. “Then I’ll leave as soon as possible. Although I had hoped to join your invasion.”
Camillus smiled. “I’m sorry to deprive you. But now that Medullinus is back in Rome, he’ll be inclined to listen to you more than any other man. So, too, Aemilius.” He stood and gripped Spurius’s arm. “When next we meet, Veii will have been destroyed, and the extent of our swag will be known.”
He turned to Genucius. “Are you certain your preparations to infiltrate the cave galleries have gone unnoticed by Veientane spies?”
He nodded. “We’ve reconnoitered the tunnels under cover of night. Artile has assisted us with identifying the access points.”
“Then prepare your men. Once they are inside the city they must fling open the gates to the rest of the regiment outside. Tell them we attack at daybreak on the summer solstice.”
Marcus stood to attention. “And my orders, sir?”
“Brief your knights on the operation to climb up the shaft into the temple. Then relay instructions that the stockades are to be closed to traders. Also, the troops stationed along the siege lines must cease repair work and remain inside the forts. On no account must they engage the enemy. I want Mastarna to think our resolve is failing.”
Marcus stood to attention and saluted. Genucius also, but the plebeian paused at the entrance to the tent, fixing his one eye on Pinna with his usual contempt before ducking his head to edge under the flap.
Camillus next spoke to the soothsayer. “I acknowledge you’ve greater expertise than I in taking the auspices, Lord Artile.”
“I would be honored to use my haruspicy skills, Furius Camillus. I’ll examine the liver of a bull instead of observing the sacred hens.”
The dictator smiled. “Excellent.”
After Artile had left, Camillus began writing his missive to the Senate. Pinna picked up a stick of sealing wax, warming it over the candle flame. “What do you really think should happen with the booty, my Wolf?”
He finished the letter, rolling it and pushing it into a cylinder. “I don’t have time to cope with such disputes.”
“It’s not like you to have no opinion.”
He took the stick from her and smeared the wax on the papyrus. “You’re always so persistent. Very well, I hope the Curia heeds Genucius’s case. Veii is too large a prize not to share.”
“Then let it be so, my Wolf! Your men would be grateful. And, after all, you are dictator. Your decisions can’t be countermanded by the Senate.”
He laughed. “Would you approve of me then, little citizen? Do you think your father would, too?”
“He would’ve been honored to fight under your command.”
“Then I’ll think on it.” He pressed his carnelian stamp into the wax, then stood and walked to the tent flap, handing the letter to his messenger outside.
Pinna focused on tidying his desk, glancing at the map upon which Artile had marked all the tunnels, the secrets to a city’s annihilation.
Camillus stepped behind her, looping his arms around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder as he also scanned the chart. “Do you truly think the dawn goddess will bless me?”
It was the first hint of doubt she’d heard from him in a long time. She was relieved arrogance had not seeped entirely through him. “Of course Mater Matuta will grant you victory, my Wolf. And you’ll have the light of the longest day to achieve it.”
“You make me strong,” he murmured, kissing the nape of her neck, one hand cupping her breast, the other hitching up his leather kilt and tunic.
Pinna smiled and flipped up the back of her dress. She bent forward, knocking aside the paperweights as she stretched out and braced herself against the desk, ready to enjoy his power, exulting in her own.
FIFTY