Sword of Rome(35)

‘The heirs of Augustus have brought Rome to the brink of ruin; nay, beyond the brink,’ Galba continued. ‘To restore her to her past glory we must return to the old ways. Not the ways of the Republic, which was an excuse for corruption and nepotism where weak men could rise because they had the patronage of the strong. The ways of my grandfather’s grandfather. When new men understood their place and patricians acted like patricians. That means the old ways of hard work, prudence and respect. And the old ways of justice, which is why we are here. These men,’ he waved an arm towards the chained ranks, ‘fought and killed the soldiers of the Empire.’ Valerius bridled at this mindless exaggeration, only for Galba to immediately surpass it. ‘Not only did they defy their Emperor, they threatened his person. There is only one sentence appropriate to such a crime. Death. A harder man might have insisted that the guilty should be crucified beside the Via Flaminia in the manner in which Marcus Linius Crassus of blessed memory dealt with the rebels of Spartacus.’ He paused, turning to glance at the men who stood behind him. ‘Some among my advisers would urge me to show even greater mercy, by executing those who led, but not those who followed. But what kind of man would that make your Emperor? A man who will sell his principles for popularity. A man who bends with every wind. A man who accepted this position, but does not have the strength to adhere to its principles.’ He glared at the massed ranks, challenging any to dispute him. ‘That man is not Servius Sulpicius Galba. An example must be made that sends a message to every man, woman and child in the Empire, and in your dying you may console yourselves that you are your Emperor’s instrument and his messengers. Men will look upon your passing and say: This is Galba’s Rome. A Rome which will not take a backward step. A Rome where strength and justice prevail.’

He was about to order the sentence to be carried out, but a flutter of applause from the senators interrupted him and he turned to acknowledge it. The interval gave Milo the opportunity he had waited for. With a rattle of chains, he turned to face the Emperor.

‘You talk of strength and justice? Then have the strength to exchange our lives for the rest. The fact that we twenty have been singled out makes us guilty in your eyes. So be it. But let our comrades, who even after all this would pledge you their loyalty, live.’ The tough little marine seemed to grow in stature then, even in his rags and his fetters, and the demand brought a rumble of approval from his comrades. A centurion of the Guard stepped forward with his vine stick raised, but Galba, with an amused half-smile, waved him back, and Milo continued. ‘If that is too much for you, then at least temper justice with fairness. We who stand before you were selected without a ballot. That means twenty men are about to die who, under the terms of your sentence, should not.’ Valerius’s respect for the condemned man grew. Milo had nothing to lose, but he was clever too. He knew he could not save them all, but by pointing out that twenty of the men had been condemned unlawfully, he was telling every witness that if the sentence was carried out it made the man who pronounced it as guilty as the men who now stood before him. In effect, Galba could not order their deaths without becoming a murderer himself.

For a moment, Valerius believed the tactic might succeed. But Otho had claimed the Emperor was as inflexible as a cavalry spatha, and now he proved it.

‘A pretty speech by what we officers would call a barrack lawyer, but not one that changes my decision.’

Milo had expected no less. At least he had tried. But he had one final truth for his Emperor. His face twisted into a bitter smile and he looked out over the festering pits and the mass grave. ‘Then truly men will look upon this and say: This is Galba’s Rome.’

The Emperor went rigid and his mouth worked, but no words emerged. It was left to Vinius, sitting next to him, to rise and give the order to carry out the sentence. A centurion marched forward and took Milo by the arm, but the marine was not finished. He began to rattle his chains as he was dragged towards the pit and the refrain was immediately taken up by the hundreds of condemned men, a rhythmic clanking that seemed to make the very air shake. At the same time an inhuman drone began to issue from the throats of the four thousand men ranked in legionary formation. Valerius saw Milo smile before he was forced to his knees and the first sword slashed down, the first blood spouted from the severed neck and the first head fell into the pit. Centurions ran among the ranks, lashing out at the sailors and marines, but the bass hum grew in volume with every man who died; a sound that managed to combine contempt for the perpetrators, hatred of the man who ordered it, and pride in their comrades. Now the drone was punctuated by the cries of the men brought forward. Lucca began it in a voice as big as his stature, and the same words were repeated, again and again, only cut off by the fall of a sword.