“During this presentation, you’ve heard me use King Scipio, a lot,” Cato informed the Senate. “Those aren’t my words. The local tribesmen and women call Cornelius, King Scipio. And by all reports, he never corrects them. And why would he?”

  Hektor ducked through the door and scanned the patio. At the base of the stairs, a Colonel and a Senior Tribune talked with the assistants for Fabius and Flaccus.

  “Witnesses,” Hektor thought.

  At a fast walk, he retreated to the place behind the bodyguard.

  “In a moment, two Legion officers will enter the chamber,” Hektor alerted Sidia. “In short sentences, tell me who they are. And why they would want to hurt Cornelius.”

  “How would I know two officers from Rome?” Sidia protested. Then he stiffened and half turned his head. “Colonel Quaeso, the Battel Commander of Steed of Aeneas. He gets along good with the General. The other officer is Justus Furia. Senior Tribune of Jace Kasia’s Legion, Wings of Nortus. Colonel Kasia trusted and promoted him.”

  “Ill placed trust,” Hektor grunted before rushing away.

  ***

  “On several occasions, Scipio mishandled funds,” Cato was saying when Hektor reached Senator Sisera.

  “He has two witnesses,” Hektor told the Senator. “One of Cornelius’ Battle Commanders and a newly promoted Senior Tribune.”

  While Alerio thought, Cato continued his talk.

  “One of the instances of coins gone missing, has to do with three hostages. They were a women and two young girls, belonging to the Ilergetes Tribe. The tribe that murdered Proconsul Publius Scipio, Cornelius’ father,” Cato offered. “But maybe we shouldn’t have been looking for coins. After all, who would sell the memory of their father? Perhaps, the real coin exchange for hostages will come when King Scipio declares himself. And to vouch for the validity…”

  Alerio Sisera pushed out of his seat and shouted, “A moment, young Cato. If you’re going to pile on more charges, I need to reflect on the seeds you’ve already planted. Consul Marcellus, I believe a pause is in order.”

  “Due to the heat near midday,” Marcellus directed, “the Senate will take a recess until this afternoon.”

  ***

  Hektor collected Cornelius and Sidia. Together with Senator Sisera, they walked to a restaurant. In a private room, they were served lunch and left alone.

  “Why aren’t you defending yourself?” Alerio asked.

  “Would it do any good?” Cornelius countered. “King is a colloquialism in Iberia. Every town has a King. Every tribe has a King. Every region has a King. Is it unreasonable for tribesmen to call a Legion General, King?”

  “I can see the value in staying out of a battle with no substance. But you could at least make a statement.”

  “Senator Sisera, I’ve been listening,” Cornelius informed him. “Someone has reported on my activities. But I don’t know who. I was hoping that somewhere in Cato’s speech, he would say something to give me a hint.”

  “Titus Quaeso or Justus Furia,” Hektor mentioned. “Those are the two witnesses Cato has waiting when we reconvene.”

  “I find it hard to believe a harsh commander like Quaeso would also be a spy. When I sent Steed Legion into New Carthage, they were supposed to take Citadel Hill and the high ground with the Temple of Asclepius,” Cornelius said. “Colonel Quaeso took both hills. But his infantry massacred townspeople between the objectives. Maybe being a Republic Legion, they didn’t see the value of Iberian citizens. In any case, they butchered hundreds.”

  “That’s settled,” Alerio announced.

  “Excuse me Senator Sisera, what’s settled?”

  “Justus Furia is the spy and Titus Quaeso will lie to protect himself from being prosecuted for murder,” Alerio replied. “All we need now is a way to counter their false testimony.”

  “One way is to get Cornelius reinstated as the Prorogatio of Iberia,” Hektor suggested. “As the Prorogatio, he could pardon Colonel Quaeso and free the man of the threat.”

  “An elegant solution for a dirty allegation,” Alerio added. “Let’s put aside the law for the time being and focus on the food.”

  They ate in silence. But just as they finished, a runner appeared at the doorway.

  “Senator Sisera, Consul Marcellus has called for a full session of the Senate,” the messenger announced. “You are to return immediately.”

  “The Delayer wants this over fast,” Cornelius offered. “He must have another life to destroy before the end of the day.”

  ***

  At the Senate chamber, they pushed through crowds of Senators and assistants. To Cornelius and Alerio’s amazement, the discussions had little to do with the Scipio trial. Instead, everyone questioned the early session.

  “There’s something in the air,” Senator Sisera said. “And look at the Consul. You’d think he was standing on hot coals.”

  Claudius Marcellus shifted from one foot to the other. Either the soles of his sandals were uncomfortable, or he was preparing to go for a run. Neither action fit the current situation.

  “I can interrupt the witnesses, and ruin their rhythm,” Alerio told Cornelius. “But I can’t stop them from testifying.”

  “I’m just learning how to handle murderous tribal leaders and women with daggers,” Cornelius admitted. “I have no idea how to deal with the politicians in my own Senate.”

  “You’re halfway there.”

  “How so, Senator Sisera?”

  “You’ve got the descriptions right.”

  ***

  Cornelius marched to the dais, saluted, and asked, “Do I stand where I did before, Consul?”

  “Scipio, call down your NCO and take back your helmet,” Marcellus instructed. “I’ve received news. And after I deliver it, I’m calling for a vote.”

  “What news, sir?”

  “You’ll know soon enough,” the Consul replied.

  A wave brought Sidia down to the floor of the Senate. Cornelius took the helmet and tucked it under his left arm. Before Sidia could make his way up the aisle, Claudius Marcellus grabbed his shoulder and spun the NCO to face the Senate.

  “How long have you served General Scipio?” he demanded.

  Sidia stammered trying to figure out the years and how to get away from the Consul of Rome. Finally, he guessed, “Sir, about four years, sir.”

  “Is General Scipio a good commander?”

  “He brought the Ilergetes Tribe to their knees, made their poets cry, and burned half their capital,” Sidia answered. “But mostly, sir. General Scipio left, Indibilis and Mandonius, the men who killed his father, afraid he’d return one night and finish the job.”

  Claudius Marcellus, the General who conquered Syracuse, scanned the Senators.

  “Optio, take you place behind your General,” he ordered. Then Marcellus produced a scroll and unrolled it. “I’ll skip the opening and get right to the important matter. Colonel Kasia returned from a long-range patrol and reported the following. Recently arrived on Iberian soil are Hasdrubal Barca, Mago Barca, and Hasdrubal Gisco. Immediately after landing, the Carthaginian Generals began calling in favors and distributing coins. Their purpose is to raise three armies and throw the Legions into the sea. It’s signed Junius Silanus, Magistrate of Iberia and Senior Tribune of Iberian Legions.”

  Marcellus lowered the parchment and raised his eyebrows in a questioning manner. When no one commented about the letter, he squared his shoulders.

  “Gentlemen, what this means is the Republic treaties in Iberia are about to go up in flames,” he described. “And the only military commander with experience in the region is standing here accused of running an unlawful kingdom. General Scipio, are you loyal to the Republic?”

  “Yes, Consul.”

  “Why do you have eight Legions?”

  “The Senate didn’t authorize me a Roman Legion, sir,” Cornelius answered. “Three of my Legions are from the Republic and four are Iberian. The eighth is a specialty Legion for my artillery and cavalry.”

  “Do you want to be King of Iberia.”

  “Consul Marcellus, Iberia has too many Kings as it is,” Cornelius replied. “I am a citizen of the Republic and always will be.”

  His answer brought applause from the Senators accompanied by Rahs from Senators who had served as Legionaries.

  “Will you return to Iberia and battle the Carthaginian threat in the name of the Roman Republic?” Marcellus asked.

  Cornelius paused. In response, the Senators leaned forward, until he answered, “No, Consul, I will not.”

  From shouting for his armor, his neck, his exile, and even his soul, the Senate of Rome questioned why Cornelius Scipio would say no.

  “Did I hear you correctly, Scipio?” Marcellus inquired. “You don’t want the command?”

  “Facing three Carthaginian armies, commanded by experienced Generals, is not a job for a committee,” Cornelius responded. He slipped the General’s helmet over his head and braced. From behind, Sidia placed the white cloak on his shoulders. “I was relieved by a committee of Senators. And for what? Sending gold, copper, and silver to Rome. Preventing pirates and foreign navies from attacking our merchants. And creating peace along the east coast of Iberia? No thank you, Consul. Give the job to another commander.”

  Claudius Marcellus sneered at the Senate as if they were schoolboys.

  “Here’s the opportunity. Take command in Iberia and earn your glory,” he challenged. But no one stepped forward to assume the responsibility. Then Marcellus faced Cornelius and asked. “What would it take to get you to return to Iberia, General Scipio?”

  “I won’t go without my warrant,” Cornelius told him. “Only as Prorogatio of Iberia, and General of all Iberian Legions, will I accept the responsibilities.”

  “Senate of Rome,” Marcellus announced from the podium, “now, we vote.”

  Chapter 21 – Jupiter and His Eagle

  The upper deck of the quinquereme was damp and glistening. Although a light rain, the deck boards collected moisture as if the warship was a long pan. And while the upper tier of oarsmen enjoyed the refreshing sprinkles, below them, the next level caught drippings from the boards and the oarsmen above. Even so, they brushed off the mist as they rowed. But like any pan, there was a bottom. At the lowest level, the rowers stroked between streams of flowing rainwater from overhead and ankle-deep water underfoot. As they worked, they cursed the weather.

  On the steering platform, the ship’s Centurion and First Principale watched the warship, the waves, the sky, and the murky horizon. Behind them, both navigators manipulated the rear oars. Despite the rain and low clouds, everyone in the crew was honored to be transporting the Prorogatio of Iberia.

  “General Scipio,” the ship’s Centurion addressed Cornelius. “I heard about your stoic response to the vicious attacks in the Senate. I don’t know if I could have held back. But you, sir, emerged victorious.”

  “Plato the Greek said the first and greatest victory is to conquer yourself. To be conquered by yourself is of all things most shameful and vile,” Cornelius quoted to the ship’s officer. “In my heart, I wanted a dog fight. To rip and tear at my accusers. To drag their carcasses across the chamber floor and gnaw on their bones. But that would not have been a victory. It would have been, as Plato stated, shameful and vile. Instead, I depended on the Gods to right the wrong.”

  “It is for sure the Goddess Fortuna blessed you on that day,” The Centurion offered. “Speaking of luck, sir, this weather could get worse. I’d like your permission to beach the ship for the night.”

  “I’m good at planning campaigns with thousands of warriors,” Cornelius admitted. “Not in commanding a warship in foul weather with four hundred citizens depending on me. Do what you feel is right.”

  “Thank you, General,” the Centurion said. “First Principale, find us a sandy bed for the night.”

  “Third Principale, find us a beach,” the ship’s first officer notified the bow officer.

  While the crew prepared to locate a berthing place for the warship, Sidia eased closer to Cornelius.

  “I won’t disregard the hand of the Goddess Fortuna in the vote,” the bodyguard whispered to Cornelius. “But, sir, you knew from Jace’s message the Carthaginians had returned. With the two peacock feathers representing Hasdrubal Barca and Mago Barca, and the raven feather Hasdrubal Gisco, you know about the Generals. It might have been beneficial for you to take a little credit for your own cunning.”

  “Optio Decimia, never argue with a man who places you in the company of the Gods,” Cornelius instructed. “He’s already given you authority far above anything you could claim for yourself.”

  “In that case, General Scipio,” Sidia proposed, “I’ll arrange a sacrifice for the Goddess Fortuna when we land.”

  “We should honor her involvement,” Cornelius affirmed.

  ***

  A week later, when Tarraco came into view, Cornelius had mixed feelings. Between the celebration feasts with supporters, and the victory galas put on by his wife, Cornelius had wallowed in the joys of Rome. Among them, making speeches in the afternoons to eager audiences, drinking vino, and talking until early morning, sleeping late, and hugging Aemilia whenever she came within reach. And his wife had made herself available for hugs, and consultations, plus introductions to the newest power brokers in the Republic. But the revelry ended, Iberia loomed ahead, and that made him a little sad.

  Conversely, on his first assignment to Iberia, he was shorthanded, unsure of himself, and set up by the Senate to fail. But he persevered, built coalitions, and created eight Legions. Soon, under his watch, coins flowed to Rome and sea trade increased. Pride and a sense of destiny overwhelmed the sadness as the warship backed onto the beach at Tarraco.

  “What’s our first stop, sir?” Sidia asked.

  “The shrines at Marçà,” Cornelius answered.

  “To pray for guidance, sir?”

  “Not guidance, Optio Decimia. I’m asking the Gods for help in shattering the three spears of Carthage against the shields of my Legions.”

  Unfortunately for Cornelius, his appointment with the Gods was cut short. In his absence, rumors circulated that General Scipio had fallen ill and was on his death bed. The long visits to the shrines were replaced by in-depth and personal inspections of his Legions and auxiliary forces.

  ***

  Starting with the garrison at Tarraco and extending to the garrison stationed south of New Carthage, Cornelius Scipio spent the next month assuring the men under his command and the leaders of allied tribes of his robust health. Pausing at New Carthage before returning to Marçà, Cornelius and Junius Silanus talked over dinner.

  “King Indibilis and War Chief Mandonius have stationed spearmen on their border and are using them to raid their neighbors,” Junius told Cornelius. The Senior Tribune of Iberia appeared gaunt and pale from stress. “I thought about sending a Legion to warn them. But then considered it might cause an unnecessary war. I weighed the benefits against the cost but couldn’t find the balance point. I fear I’ve come up short as a General.”

  “Without your support Junius, we’d still be in a defensive posture around Tarraco,” Cornelius assured him. “The Ilergetes brothers were always going to be a problem. Let’s send them a couple wagons of saltwater fish to remind them of our agreement.”

  “We’ll need a lot of salt in this weather,” Junius pointed out, “or the fish will rot.”

  Early fall along the coast held onto the heat of the Iberian summer. In a matter of weeks, the night temperatures would fall, but for the present, the sun maintained its strength. An unsalted wagon of fish would last two days at most before the stench would warn off potential diners.

  “No salt. Just a scroll telling the brothers to eat the rotten fish and die,” Cornelius described. “Or to send me a message informing me when I should march to their homes and cancel their bloodline.”

  “Do you think two transports of smelly fish will get the desired result?” Junius Silanus asked.

  “The fish are just the message,” Cornelius uttered. “I’m depending on Colonel Kasia, six hundred heavy cavalrymen, and five hundred of his light infantry, and Bolt Legion to make my point.”

  “The heavy cavalrymen and light infantry are here in New Carthage and Bolt Legion is in Marçà,” Junius mentioned. “Plus, we already have cavalry up there.”

  “You’re correct, of course. But moving cavalry and light infantryman from New Carthage will appear to weaken our defensives.”

  Junius Silanus thought for a moment. Then he lifted his glass in salute.

  “If we’re weak, we can’t attack the Carthaginians, and they’ll let down their guard,” he summarized. “It’s good to have you back, General Scipio.”

  “It’s good to be back, Senior Tribune Silanus.”

  ***

  The long days of travel gave Cornelius the opportunity to plan a course of action. After much consideration and praying while riding, Cornelius envisioned a campaign against the Carthaginians using the brothers from the Ilergetes tribe. To inform his Colonels of the strategy, Cornelius sent out messengers with invitations. Some only needed to cross the fort to attend. Others would ride from New Carthage for the appointed day in a large and impressive force.

  After his whirlwind tour, Cornelius returned to the Legion fort at Marçà. He relaxed with a glass of wine while waiting for his seven Battle Commanders and Senior Tribune Zeno from Steed of Aeneas to arrive. Shaken by the vicious politics, Colonel Titus Quaeso declined to return to Iberia. And Junius Silanus, having commandeered a warship from New Carthage, arrived a day early. But instead of the two commanders meeting, Cornelius sent him to Tarraco to dine with the mayor.

  ***

  “Master Silanus, you seem despondent,” the mayor’s wife noted. “I hope it’s not the company or the food.”

  Ten people dined at the long table. Caikonbe, the Mayor of Tarraco, sat at one end, and the Roman officer occupied the opposite end of the table.

  “Lady Sicounin, the companions are pleasant and the feast delicious,” Junius assured her. “I’m afraid my malaise is a professional malady.”