Three's Company by Alfred Duggan

Author:Alfred Duggan [Duggan, Alfred]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: History - Roman (Early)
Publisher: Pan Macmillan

8. Order Reigns

42–41 BC

The procession was everything it should be. There were seven legions of soldiers, every man in high spirits at the prospect of a feast when he had done his duty by marching along the Sacred Way. There were captives in herds, and wagons piled high with sacks of money and strange works of barbarian art. There was the sacred chariot, drawn by four white horses and escorted by the priests of Mars. There was a hecatomb of white bulls, each one of the hundred led by a handsome young camillus, a youth from one of the ancient families of Rome. The path was strewn with laurel. From the open doors of their temples the gods, wreathed in flowers, beamed approval of this joyous occasion.

Yet as he stood in the famous chariot, robed in purple, crowned with laurel, so splendid and glorious and lucky that a slave behind him must continually whisper that he was a mortal man and not a deity, Lepidus felt that something was missing. He was not experiencing the pleasure he had anticipated. Perhaps that was because nothing is ever quite so exciting when it is done for the second time, and he was already a Triumphator. Perhaps it was because he knew, everyone knew, that the ceremony was an empty sham. The soldiers’ glittering shields had never been scarred by hostile javelins, the captives were common brigands or runaway slaves, the trophies were plunder stolen from defenceless subjects of Rome. No, that could not be the only reason. He had known for more than a year that his Triumph would be a sham. But the Senate had decreed a public thanksgiving in gratitude for the treaty he had concluded with Sextus Pompeius; a public thanksgiving implies a Triumph when next the hero enters the City. Even though he had never in his life won a battle he was lawfully entitled to this honour. All was as he had expected, in the days when he governed Narbonese Gaul and looked forward with such pleasure to this wonderful occasion. After all, the exploit which had earned a Triumph was soon forgotten; but that he was Triumphator iterum, had enjoyed two separate Triumphs, would be indicated on his image when it was placed on the ancestral shelf. It would also be set down in the official records of the City, engraved on bronze to be preserved until the end of time.

No, something he had expected was lacking. Why was the procession so flat? At last he understood. It was because the streets were nearly empty. A Triumph should fill the Forum and the approaches to the Capitol with a cheerful crowd of sightseers, proud to share in the glory of Roman arms and awaiting the largesse of the victorious general. Today the few knots of spectators cheered loudly. But there were stretches of empty roadway; many houses were hung with the myrtle of mourning instead of the laurel of victory.

Strangest of all was the silence. Had

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