Hannibal: Enemy of Rome

Whatever Publius’ reception in the Senate might be, he was still one of the Republic’s two consuls. At the walled gate that signalled the end of the Via Ostiensis, the road from Ostia, a fine litter borne by six strapping slaves awaited his arrival. He, Flaccus and Fabricius clambered aboard. A dozen lictores bearing fasces preceded the litter into the city. As soldiers under arms, Fabricius’ thirty cavalrymen had to remain outside but this did not delay the party’s progress. The lictores’ mere presence, wearing their magnificent red campaign cloaks rather than just their usual togas, and with the addition of axes to their fasces, was enough to clear the streets. All citizens, apart from Vestal Virgins or married women, were obliged to stand aside, or face the consequences. Only the strongest and tallest men were picked to join the lictores, and they had been taught to use their fasces at the slightest opportunity. If ordered to do so, they could even act as executioners.

Fabricius had been to Rome several times, and always enjoyed the spectacle provided by the capital. The lictores’ presence ensured that he gained the best possible impression of the city. People pushed inside the shops and into the alleyways to get out of the way. It was all a far cry from Capua, and even further from Fabricius’ farm, and yet it felt very similar. He tried to ignore the feeling of homesickness that followed. Their rapid progress to the Forum Romanum ensured that he had no time to wallow in the emotion.

As they entered the Forum, Fabricius’ eyes were drawn to the Curia, the home of the Senate. Unremarkable apart from its great bronze doors, it was nonetheless the focal point of the Republic. He picked out the Graecostasis, the area just outside, where foreign embassies had to wait until they were called in. Today, accompanying one of the two most important men in the land, there was no such delay. The lictores swept up to the entrance, scattering the crowd of senators’ sons who were hovering outside, listening to the debates within. Publius alighted right before the portals; so too did Flaccus and Fabricius. All three were clad in their finest togas. Naturally, Publius wore the grandest, a shining white woollen garment with a purple border.

Before leaving, Fabricius had secreted a dagger in the folds of his toga. After months on campaign, he felt naked without a weapon, and had scooped it up without even thinking. Yet it was a risky move: the lictores alone were allowed to bear arms within the Curia. Now, Fabricius cursed his impulsive decision. There was no way of getting rid of the dagger, though. He would have to carry it inside and hope for the best. His heart began to pound. Publius had asked him to be present because he was the only Roman officer to have seen Hannibal’s army. His testimony was vital for Publius’ defence. ‘I’m relying on you,’ the consul had said. ‘I know you won’t let me down. Just tell them what you saw at the Carthaginian camp.’ Fabricius had promised to do so. He sneaked a glance at Flaccus, who looked rather pleased with himself. Confusion filled Fabricius. What role would he play in the drama to come?

The most senior lictor spoke with the guards before entering to announce Publius’ arrival. A hush fell inside. Upon the man’s return, the twelve lictores re-formed in six columns of two. With a measured tread, they led the way into the Senate. Fabricius followed Publius and Flaccus. He had to stop himself from staring like an excited boy. He’d never entered the seat of the Republic’s democracy. Light flooded in through long, narrow windows set high in the walls. Running the length of the rectangular room, three low steps were lined by marble benches. Rank upon rank of standing toga-clad senators filled this space. To a man, their gaze was locked on Publius and his companions. Struggling to control his awe, Fabricius kept his eyes averted from the senators. At the end of the chamber, he saw a dais upon which sat two finely carved rosewood chairs. These, the most important positions, were for the consuls.

The lictores reached the platform and fanned out to either side, leaving a space for Publius to assume his seat. Flaccus and Fabricius remained at floor level. As Publius sat down, the lictores smacked the butts of their fasces off the mosaic. The clashing sound echoed off the walls and died away.

There was a long pause.

Glancing sideways, Fabricius saw a tiny, satisfied smile flicker across the consul’s lips. It was obviously up to Publius to begin proceedings, and, in a pointed reminder of his rank, he was making the men who had recalled him to Rome wait. On and on the silence went. Soon Fabricius could see senators muttering angrily to one another. None dared to speak, however.