Varro nodded curtly and spun around, his exit creating a gap in the circle through which the crewmen carried the man to the main cabin below. Septimus followed, the young man now in his charge.
Regulus stepped warily through the throng of senators on the floor of the Senate house, catching the eye of many as they nodded a greeting. The men were clustered in groups, talking animatedly before the familiar hammer of a gavel, signalling the beginning of the first session of the day, would hasten them all to their seats. Their discussions were almost frenetic in their tempo, as if the dreary debates scheduled for the day could be mitigated by a couple of minutes of interesting conversation about the consulship elections that were due on the morrow.
Regulus engaged with no-one, skirting the groups to avoid being dragged into a discussion. His gaze sought many of the senators however, surreptitiously watching them, eavesdropping on their conversations as he moved past, trying to guess which ones might be the junior senators that Scipio claimed to secretly control. As he reached the edge of the throng, Regulus spotted the consul seated alone in the centre of the semi-circular seating that framed the central podium of the chamber. Scipio sat with an emotionless expression, his eyes scanning the room, ever restless. Regulus made to approach but thought better of the idea, turning away instead to make his way to his own seat.
A loud hammering sound filled the vaulted chamber and the three hundred senators took to their seats, the men sitting as individuals, loose confederations and close-knit factions, the fluid ever-changing political landscape placing former confederates beside current adversaries. Regulus sat on the right hand of the speaker, a side increasingly associated with the Patrician class of the ancient Roman families although it was near impossible to gauge the loyalties of every senator and dividing lines were only as stable as the last vote taken in each session.
‘Senators of Rome,’ the speaker of the house called as the chamber came to order, the underlying murmur of a hundred conversations dissipating in the still morning air. ‘Before we begin the business of the day, Gaius Duilius,’ the speaker continued, as he nodded towards the junior consul seated firmly in the centre of the left, ‘the junior consul, has requested a brief audience with the chamber.’
Duilius stood and acknowledged the speaker with a nod, his unscheduled request prompting a light patter of applause that rose in intensity as Duilius made his way towards the podium. Regulus’s heart skipped a beat at the sight and he clapped unconsciously, his mind racing to the conversation he had had the night before with Scipio and the premonition made that was transpiring before his very eyes. He looked briefly to Scipio but the consul’s gaze was firmly fixed on his enemy.
Duilius walked with a determined stride and many of the senators sat straighter in their seats in anticipation, the comfortable slouch they had adopted for the scheduled debates thrown off as expectation filled the chamber. He whispered a brief thanks into the speaker’s ear as he took to the podium, the old senator nodding gravely as if his consent to allow Duilius to speak was anything more than a mere powerless formality.
The junior consul stood with his arms straight, his hands gripping the sides of the podium, his upper body leaning forward to convey the significance of his words.
‘My fellow Senators,’ he began. ‘It has been my esteemed honour to serve you and the city of Rome as junior consul this past year.’
A brief applause broke the silence before it was engulfed again by the palatable tension of the chamber.
‘It has been a significant year for the Republic, one which has seen our city embark on a new frontier, a bold courageous endeavour which has, I have no doubt, brought pride to the hearts of our ancestors, the men who built this mighty city and who, even now, look down upon this chamber from Elysium.’
Again the senators clapped politely at Duilius’s words, many willing the consul to get beyond the self congratulatory preamble to the crux of his speech.
‘I have been fortunate to have been part of Rome’s success in her first naval battle,’ Duilius continued, his words neatly ignoring and condemning to oblivion the disaster at Lipara, and for a brief heartbeat his gaze rested on Scipio before ranging over the expectant faces of the entire chamber, ‘and I hope I have done my duty as your consul.’
Loud applause and sporadic cheers filled the chamber at these words but Duilius raised his hands for silence, his request immediately obeyed as the senators sensed the point of Duilius’s speech was at hand.
‘My duty done,’ Duilius said, pausing for a second as if the words were hard to articulate, ‘I hereby withdraw my nomination for the position of senior consul and instead I will ask to be considered for the post of censor.’
The final words of Duilius’s sentence were lost in the uproar that followed as both ally and foe were taken completely unawares by the sudden turn of events, the entire Senate thrown into confusion with Duilius standing steady in the eye of the storm. Only a select few remained calm, their foreknowledge of the announcement insulating them from the maelstrom of questions and confusion.
Scipio remained seated amidst the turmoil, his eyes veiled, his head tilted back slightly as he drank in the utter chaos his plan had wrought, the sudden disorder that panicked the lesser men of the Senate, leaving them crying out for direction, for leadership. He lowered his head and steadied his gaze to a point on the right of the chamber, instantly catching the eye of Regulus and the older senator nodded imperceptibly. He was committed.
Scipio’s thoughts were broken by the slowly surfacing sound of Duilius pounding the gavel against the podium. By degrees the chamber returned to order although many of the senators remained standing, their agitation preventing them from retaking their seats.
‘My fellow Senators,’ Duilius began again, conscious that this last statement was all important and he paused once more to ensure the chamber was quiet enough for all to hear his words, ‘in withdrawing my nomination so close to the election I realise that the elections scheduled for tomorrow stand in disarray, not least as there are no other nominations for senior consul.’
A dark murmur of censure met these words but Duilius ignored them, concentrating instead his will on his allies and the undecided majority, ignoring those who now, for the first time, were emboldened to stand openly against him.
‘I would therefore,’ Duilius said aloud, once more waiting for the chamber to come to order, ‘I would therefore like to nominate Lucius Manlius Vulso Longus to stand in my stead, a man who will lead this Senate with the same sense of duty that has been the hallmark of my service.’
Duilius pointed to Longus as he spoke those final words and the senator stood to receive the applause of the Senate, both polite and enthusiastic. The cadre of senators surrounding him, each one an ally of Duilius, shook his hand and slapped him on the shoulder, and Longus raised his hands to still the Senate once more, clearing his throat as he did to make the gracious acceptance speech he and Duilius had crafted the evening before. As the chamber became quiet however, another single voice silenced Longus’s opening words before he could utter them.
‘Senators of Rome!’
All eyes turned to see Regulus standing tall.
‘Less than an hour ago this chamber stood poised to elect Gaius Duilius to the position of senior consul on the morrow. It was a fitting decision, an endorsement by this house of the achievements of a man who has served Rome well.’
There was a murmur of agreement and Regulus paused.
‘But,’ he continued, ‘following his withdrawal I believe this election must not become an automatic transfer of votes but must be open to all. Longus is a fine senator; a dutiful servant of Rome.’ Regulus paused and looked directly at Duilius. ‘But our city, our republic is at war and in times of war it is better to be led by the solid hand of experience, not the impulsive hand of youth.’
A murmur of agreement swept across the chamber.
‘You all know me,’ Regulus continued. ‘The senior members of this Senate know my reputation. I have held this highest of offices before and I am ready to lead again. I therefore humbly nominate myself for the position of senior consul, ever conscious that the Senate will decide wisely and elect the most suitable candidate accordingly.’
The Senate chamber was once more enveloped in deafening sound as Regulus retook his seat. Longus stood motionless as the waves of sound crashed over him, furious that his own moment of triumph had been swept away by Regulus’s sudden entry to the fray, and he desperately turned to his benefactor for guidance.
Duilius remained standing at the podium, the knuckles of his hands white from the intensity of his grip on the
