In Which A Roman Manufactures Destiny

[Favonius Cornelius]

Today was going to be a day that historians would constantly bicker about. A day that every student of history would have to remember.

 

On that day, the entire army of the eastern legions, commanded by Propraetor Favonius Cornelius Pola, were getting ready to strike their camp, and march forward to meet the masses of Mithridates. Pola made every effort to be visible to his men on this day, walking about as a general should, encouraging his troops, helping with the lowest labors. Spirits were high. Victory was a certain thing in hearts and minds.

 

And then a group of 100 ragged horsemen rode straight into the camp. They did not stop for watchwords or identification, and indeed some men were pulled off their horses in their effort to get to the Propraetor as soon as possible. Tribune Albinus and about 10 men made it to where Pola stood, supervising the collection efforts of a baggage for tens of thousands of men.

 

"Propraetor!! Propraetor! It is I Tribune Albinus!" The tribune nearly fell off his horse as he dismounted, two bundles under his arm. Troops from all sides quickly surrounded the Tribune. Uncertain what to do, some unsheathed gladii, others supported the Tribune. "I MUST see the Propraetor at once!"

 

Pola knew exactly what was going on. For one thing his eyes and ears were well placed throughout his provinces of jurisdiction. He turned to see what the commotion was, then motioned for his lictors to clear a path, striding towards the Tribune.

 

"Tribune Albinus, you should be at Ilium with the Regina. What is the meaning of this?" Pola demanded in an angry tone.

 

Albinus stumbled forward still clutching his bundles like precious babes. He looked like a crazed man: his helmet was gone, uniform not at all up to standards, and his eyes. They had seen something not of this world. He fell to his knees in front of the Propraetor, perhaps from weariness?

 

"IMPERATOR!" He shouted so that all men could hear him, he frantically threw aside the cord and cloth that held he items. In his hands he now held a golden crown studded with clear gems of unquestionable value, and a long sword, of Greek style, etched with what was ancient Latin: 'Aeneas.' "Imperator, I give to you, the crown of the Trojans, and the Sword of Aeneas!!"

 

At first a stunned silence reigned. All stood staring at the objects held in the trembling hands of the Tribune. Even Pola stood there, in awe, wide eyes staring at the artifacts before him. Hundreds of men began to surround the scene, ignoring their duties to get a glimpse of history. Soon the buzzing of a thousand conjectures, questions and acclimations turned into a roar. "It is a sign!" "The gods favor us!" "Imperator Cornelius Pola!"

 

Pola reached for the sword first. It was well made. He hefted it, and took a swing, which caused a cheer from the crowd as legatus, tribune, centurion, and legionnaire stood side by side. The blade needed to be sharpened, but it was in remarkably good condition, as if forged by the gods themselves.

 

Pola reached for the crown.

 

There was a silence from the men as they stared in awe. Pola raised it to eye level, inspecting every crevasse, every gem. It was clearly of ancient design. This was the legendary crown of the Trojans, ancestors of the Romans. Not for some thousand years had a Roman worn it. And now, once again the Romans had their birthright.

 

The men began again to create a din. Pola raised his hand for silence, and a hush spread across the masses. "Tribunes, Legati! Assemble the men. I will speak to them all."

 

 

 

 

 

After a few hours, the legions were assembled. Even the Numidians stood in tight rank as they heard the news. All men wondered what this meant, all men knew it was something big. Something major. Pola stood flanked by his Legati. On one side stood Tribune Albinus, now better attired, holding the Crown of the Trojans. On the other Tribune Caelius, holding the sword of Aeneas. When everything was ready, twenty trumpeters sounded grand call befitting the scene. Then total silence.

 

"Soldiers of Rome! I came to Asia merely a Quaestor, ready to count coins and dwell upon economy. By amazing fate, I now stand before you, as your Propraetor, as your Pontifex Maximus, as your Imperator! We have fought well against the Pontics. At Timoni we met them on ground unfavorable to battle, and easily bested them. Because in the end, we are men, hardened by training, by stoic upbringing, and by glorious, soul-cleansing war!"

 

The men cheered their agreement.

 

"I stand before you today, the man who with you defeated Mithridates. The coward fled to his lands, sick with the wrath of the gods. We have liberated Bithynia, and already sacked two cities. And I have allowed you to pillage the baggage of Mithridates. Have I not? Have I not treated you as my brothers, as my soldiers!? Have I not sought to lead you with vision and courage?"

 

The men cheered, including the Legati and Tribunes. The cheering carried on for a while as the soldiers showed their appreciation, and indeed expectation for more. Tribune Albinus turned to salute Pola, then raised the crown towards his head. The cheering died down into a confused rumble. Tribune Albinus withdrew the crown at the Propraetors bidding.

 

"Romans! At every stage of this war, we have seen signs from the gods. Though the Senate in Rome would do everything in its power to prevent us from victory as jealous, lazy senators plot their petty schemes, you and I have fought hard, and risked everything so that they can continue their schemes. My own very friend, Tribune of the Plebs Lentulus, once a patrician but a converted pleb so that he could safeguard YOUR future, and the future of your friends and family, was murdered. A foul senator funded this plot, destroying all respect for us, for plebs, and for our ways. Despite this evil from Rome, the gods have shined on us with every step. Hardly a morning passes when, as I pray to the gods as your Pontifex Maximus, an eagle does not fly over our camp. And now my brothers, now the gods have spoken to us directly. They have put the power of the future directly into our hands! Our ancient homeland, Ilium, has been unearthed. And there, with the Regina Sacorum herself supervising the affair with her blessings, we have found our ancient heritage returned to us! BEHOLD! THE CROWN OF THE TROJANS! AND THE SWORD OF AENEAS! The gods have granted them to us, for they will ensure our victory and greatness despite all odds!"

 

So it was true, they thought. Both tribunes held the artifacts high for all too see as the legions cheered the gods for their generosity and favor. Both tribunes made a move to give the objects to Pola, but a second time he refused them and demanded silence with his hands held high.

 

"I have these objects within my reach, and I could wear this crown, I could wield this sword, but what is an Imperator, if he is not declared so by his men on the battlefield? What good am I if I stand alone against the Pontics? Nay, it is by YOUR greatness that victory is had, by YOUR sacrifices. I could not claim such items without the support of all of you. You have done Rome greater honor than any soldiers in her history, for if Mithridates were allowed to conquer, Rome herself would fall. For this reason, I am declaring that if you follow me, if you heed my every order, if you fight with greater honor, and with greater strength that any legion in the history of our brave people, I WILL SEE TO IT THAT EVERY MAN OWNS AN ESTATE THE SIZE OF WHICH YOU COULD NOT EARN ALONE! I WILL SEE TO IT THAT EACH OF YOU ARE A KING IN YOUR OWN RIGHT! I WILL GRANT YOU BOON UNLIKE ANY SOLDIER BEFORE! NOT THE GREEDY SENATE, NOR ANY KING CAN STOP ME FROM GIVING YOU WHAT YOU DESERVE!"

 

"FOLLOW ME, LET ME LEAD YOU TO WHERE OUR FATE TAKES US, AS ORDAINED BY THE VERY GODS THEMSELVES! Will you follow me Romans?"

 

"MATER VICTORIA!"

 

Tribune Albinus placed the crown finally on the head of the Propraetor, and with the Sword held high, he basked in the shockwave of cheer resonating from the legions. It was a moment Pola would never forget.

 

"Hail. Hail! Hail! HAIL! HAIL! HAIL POLA IMPERATOR!"

[FLavius Valerius Constantinus]

Bravo, bravo. Good story. But it seems theres to be a lot of repetitiveness.

[Pantagathus]

You didn't say but I assume the sword was bronze...

 

Very nice piece of fiction Favonius, bravo

[Pertinax]

I missed that till today-rather a nice piece of creative work.

[Emperor Goblinus]

Very well written.