next. Better this be a Roman world than a Carthaginian one,” Marcus bellowed, believing that Maximus was agreeing with him, as he heard only what he wanted to hear.
“And whose sons shall we send to fight this war, Marcus, perhaps yours?” Maximus added; his words were forceful and growing angrier.
“Calm yourself, nephew,” Varro spoke as he placed his hand onto the young senator’s shoulders. “No one is talking about starting a war. Rome has had her fill of bloodshed after the last one. However, these recent acts serve to bait Rome into action.”
“I don’t know, Varro. This new leader in Spain; what is his name? He seems a determined man, even more so than his father was,” Nero spoke next.
“Pig slop! They are all savages. What could they do to the Republic that they haven’t already tried? I still say we march north and deal with this Hannibal now, before he becomes more trouble,” Marcus commented as he poured another cup of wine into his goblet.
“It is so easy for you to make such thoughtless decisions, isn’t it? You may think of them as savages, but look what we nearly lost in the last war. How many ships did we lose, huh? Was it a thousand, or five thousand? And how many souls died with their bellies spilled open, rotting in the sun, fifty thousand, a hundred? You tell me, my dear friend. If we are to survive the next one, we must start thinking differently,” Maximus argued, but his words were falling on deaf ears.
“Thinking differently isn’t what has made the Republic as powerful as it is. It is through force of arms, and that is what is needed to take care of our enemies,” Marcus raised his cup, speaking louder as if he was addressing the whole Senate.
“And fatten your purse too, I take it?”
“Please, Maximus, we all grow rich in war and trade. You included, my young friend,” Nero rebuked.
“Perhaps, but I will not sacrifice the lives of my children to fill my purse with more coins.”
“Hah! That is what I love about you my young nephew. You are so dramatic that I believe sometimes you missed your true calling as an actor; if only you didn’t have such a brilliant mind,” Varro said, almost mockingly, but speaking the truth.
“I speak what is in my heart, uncle,” Maximus replied.
“That is understandable. However, I speak from experience, if you want to survive the game of politics, you’ll have to do more than carry your heart on your sleeve. All the passion in the world will not save you if you make too many enemies in the house. At least, the Carthaginians will give you an honorable death in battle,” Varro added as he spoke firmly.
“Is that a threat of some kind?” Maximus asked sharply.
“Of course not, I speak only from my own experiences. I wouldn’t be standing here having this entertaining conversation with you now if I hadn’t learned how to play the game. You would do well to learn it too, quickly, because I see great things in store for you. However,” Varro learned in closer, “One day you may have to abandon your conscience if you want to speak for the people and make the hard decisions that will shape the course of history.”
“I am afraid that, uncle may be too high a price to pay,” Maximus exclaimed.
Varro only smiled. The two stared at one another as Marcus continued on, changing the subject to other topics relevant to the Senate. Gaius on the other-hand grew bored listening to the four men speaking of matters that his young mind could not comprehend. So, his attention turned to the shops that lined both sides of the street which led to the arena.
Most of the stores were ordinary. They sold mostly food and drink, which due to the heat had kept them busy in the late hours. A few shops sold various items of expensive taste: rugs, jewels, and pottery, clothing, gold and silver trinkets, to the wealthy patrons of the games.
As he surveyed his surroundings, one stand, in particular, caught his attention. It wasn’t as well kept as the rest. It stood at the end of the block, towards a back alley that shaded in the shadows.
Unlike the other stores, the owner did not try to entice every passerby to look at his merchandise, or make exaggerated proclamations that his items were the finest in Rome. Instead, the storekeeper sat, keeping his eyes forward as he smoked a curved pipe.
Antony, who had grown bored with his own games followed Gaius as he broke from the adults and crossed through the crowd, making his way over to the small stand.
Once he drew closer, Gaius saw that the stand seemed to sell all sorts of medallions, each of them of artistic quality. He looked across the trinkets that lay stretched out before him on the table, or hanging off from the poles that held the shop up. They came in all shapes, sizes and substances, such as gold, silver, wood and clay. Symbols of various Greek and Roman gods, historical figures, heroes of old, and creatures of fantasy, representing dozens of cultures: Hellenistic, Persian, Egyptian, Gallic and Roman adorned the medallions.
Antony fumbled through them, picking one up, and then setting it back down. He didn’t seem as interested in them as Gaius. The old man said nothing as he sat, legs crossed, smoking his pipe, watching the boys. And then Gaius’ eyes caught sight of one medallion, in particular. It wasn’t made of fine metal or engraved with gold, silver or ivory. The object was simple, round and made of hardened clay. However, it was the image of the white wolf engraved on it, which fixed his attention.
Gaius’ eyes fixated on it, taking in every detail as he stared into the animal’s unblinking eyes, as it were, the same wolf he had seen earlier in the forum — in fact, he was sure that it was the beast, down to the last detail.
As he was about to touch it, the old man spoke abruptly.
“Ah, so your eyes gaze upon Lupus? Good choice, young Roman.”
“Excuse me?” Gaius asked as he pulled his hand back.
The old man stood to his feet, propping himself up with the help of a thick cane that looked as if it was from an un-carved tree branch. He limped over toward Gaius, keeping his eyes on him and not taking notice of Antony, who took a step back.
“That is Lupus, the She-Wolf — mother of Rome,” the old man spoke again as he reached out and picked up the medallion, holding it for Gaius to see more closely.
“Here, take it,” he urged it closer for Gaius to hold as he continued.
“It is said, those who are drawn to Lupus are protected by her; that they have a destiny. You do know her story, don’t you, young master?”
Gaius glanced over at Antony, who stood next to him, also looking down at the medallion that Gaius now held in his palms. “No sir, I do not believe that I do. Could you tell us?” Gaius answered.
“Of course. A strong Roman boy such as you should certainly know the story of our city, and our protector,” the old man replied with a wide smile.
“Then please tell us, sir,” Gaius asked eagerly.
The old man smiled as he stood a little taller. Still, as he began, his words were directed towards Gaius even though Antony’s own attention was interested in the tale.
“Well, our story begins a long time ago, many generations now past, with the fall of a great king who was removed from his throne by his brother, Amulius. The king’s daughter, Rhea Silvia, was forced by her uncle to become a Vestal Virgin, which meant she was forbidden from bearing children. If she were, then they could claim right to the throne, as heirs to the true king. However, the god of war, Mars, came down from the heavens and took an interest in Rhea Silvia. He saw greatness in her and knew that she would bear him not one powerful son, but two, both of whom would carry his banner and build a new nation that would honor him unlike any before.”
The old man paused, the boys hanging on his every word.
“I will spare your young minds the more intimate details of that night, but by the winter's end, the young and very beautiful Rhea Silvia indeed carried two children, as Mars had foreseen; two sons whom she named Romulus and Remus upon their births. However, when the usurper discovered the infant boys, he had Rhea Silvia murdered and the brothers cast down the Tiber River. At the same time, the Fates had other plans for the twins as they were found by Rome’s guardian mother, on this very spot.”
“Lupus?” Gaius interrupted.
“Yes. Lupus was a wise wolf, with white fur, blue eyes and touched by the gods. Instead of devouring them as any beast would, she took pity on the infant brothers and suckled them until they were strong. She cared for them for many months until she found a kind farmer by the name of Faustulus. Lupus left the boys with him, but
