Chapter 112: Chapter 112 : Hunting
Rumors of a Jewish plot to assassinate Pompey and Pompeia spread through the streets of Rome like wildfire.
Some learned of it from the flyers plastered around the Forum, while others caught wind of it through word of mouth.
Soon after, countless people converged on the Subura.
They had only one goal in mind: to teach those arrogant Jews, who had clearly forgotten their place, a harsh lesson.
"Those bastards don’t even serve in the legions, and they refuse to join our festivals or sacrifices."
"It’s hardly a surprise they’d hatch a plot like this."
Men armed with clubs and makeshift weapons flooded the streets of Subura.
Some came out of loyalty to Caesar, others to curry his favor, and some simply wanted an excuse to join the chaos.
However, they were forced to stop dead just outside the Jewish neighborhood.
"You’re protecting the Jews? Just who do you think you are?"
"Can’t you see this insignia?"
The men blocking their path were Caesar’s people.
Some wore signaler uniforms, while others were dressed in simple tunics.
But every single one of them answered to Caesar.
"We came to protect Caesar and Pompeia!"
"Then turn back. An investigation is already underway. Caesar never requested your assistance."
The mob fell into confused silence.
They had gathered solely to protect Caesar, after all.
And yet it was Caesar’s own men barring their way.
"Caesar does not want the chaos to spread. Caesar appreciates your loyalty, but please, return home."
"Well, if Caesar says so, we should turn back."
"Aye. What if we cause him trouble instead?"
Most of the crowd heeded Caesar’s men and dispersed, but some chose to ignore them.
"Caesar is making a grave mistake! How can he dismiss us when we came to help? Are you truly following Caesar’s orders?!"
"He’s right! We know what Caesar truly wants better than anyone!"
A stubborn few remained, continuing their standoff with Caesar’s men.
Some had even hired gladiators to accompany them.
"If you have a complaint, write your names here."
"Sign?"
Caesar’s men handed them wax tablets and styluses.
"Write down your names and your tribes. Didn’t you say you wanted to help Caesar? Then it is only right to leave your names so that Caesar may repay the favor later, isn’t it?"
Even the agitated mob faltered.
A mob’s greatest strength lay in its anonymity.
Anonymity gave them the freedom to do whatever they pleased without being held accountable later.
But if they signed their names, it could serve as proof that they had helped instigate a riot.
It was presented as a ’favor,’ but they weren’t so foolish as to miss that the wax tablet was, in truth, a set of shackles.
"We only came to help Caesar. But if he says it isn’t necessary, we’ll be on our way."
As the last remaining holdouts dispersed, the uproar seemed to die down.
However, another group of men soon appeared.
They were burly men who, at a glance, had clearly seen real combat.
They were Pompey’s men.
***
"Aren’t those Pompey’s men?"
"Looks like they’re heading this way."
Marcus swallowed hard.
He had been one of Rome’s first signalers.
He had served since the signal towers were still in their trial phase.
He had volunteered for this task to aid Caesar and track down the culprits who had murdered his comrade.
He believed, without a shadow of a doubt, that Caesar would bring them to justice.
All they had to do was trust in Caesar.
"Are they here to fight? Caesar hasn’t given us any new orders yet."
"Our mission is to hold this ground. If they threaten us, we’ll hold the line."
The men all tightened their grips on their clubs.
None of them particularly cared about the Jews, but they followed Caesar’s orders.
As the men drew closer, their faces came into view.
"Stop right there!"
Marcus shouted, waving his hand.
"Come no closer! What is your business here?"
At his shout, one of the men simply shrugged.
Their faces showed no hostility.
"We heard you were short of men and came to help. Or do you not need the help?"
"Help?"
Marcus muttered.
"You’re saying you came to help us?"
***
"Pompeia must have persuaded her father," I said without slowing down.
Felix had to half-jog just to keep pace with me.
"Otherwise, Pompey’s men would never have come to our aid."
"Not long ago, they looked ready to slaughter everyone. I didn’t expect them to come here to help you, Young Master."
"Same here."
I should properly thank her the next time we meet.
We were stretched thin trying to protect the Jewish community in the Subura, but thanks to Pompey’s help, we could finally catch our breath.
"Father and Crassus are keeping the Senate calm. There won’t be any bloodshed for the time being."
Both of them were busy making their moves.
If a riot broke out and the Senate issued the senatus consultum ultimum—the so-called ultimate decree—to suppress it, the situation would undoubtedly spiral out of control.
Felix sighed.
"But the conspirators haven’t been caught yet."
"This won’t be over until those bastards are caught."
Arriving in the Subura, I returned my men’s greetings and headed toward a certain building.
Pompey’s veterans also gave me respectful nods as I passed.
I offered them a light nod in return before continuing on my way.
My destination was a dilapidated insula.
"Caesar, please come in. I don’t even know how to begin to thank you..."
"Have you found the culprits?"
Eleazar shook his head with a grim expression.
"Not yet. I fear they may have used the uproar to hide somewhere else..."
"We’ve already scoured the rest of Rome. It’s unlikely they slipped out of the city. They’re almost certainly hiding somewhere here in the Subura, likely with help from their collaborators."
I scanned the people in the room.
Every last one of them was staring at me in terror.
If I hadn’t sent my men in time, they would all have been swept into a massacre.
I didn’t want Rome to be consumed by blood and fire under the pretext of ’helping’ me.
"Eleazar, when you needed aid, you came to me first instead of anyone else. And I have honored that trust."
Right now, standing outside were not only my employees and supporters but also Pompey’s veterans.
Pompey had not been bluffing when he said he would rather see innocent Jews die than risk his daughter’s life—or his own.
"Now it is your turn to honor my trust."
Eleazar and the other elders exchanged nervous glances.
Soon, Eleazar bowed his head and spoke.
"We will do our utmost. If you can keep the Subura safe, Caesar, we can rally our people and search for them."
"You don’t need to worry about that," I said, rising to my feet. "I’ve already taken all the necessary measures."
Truth be told, preparations had been in place ever since I summoned the tribes.
Thanks to the Metellus brothers, I had managed to arrange everything.
"Measures? What exactly..."
"Isn’t it obvious?"
I shrugged.
"Preparations for a hunt."
***
The Metellus brothers let out heavy sighs in unison.
"If this causes trouble later..."
"Lucius Caesar already promised he’d take full responsibility, didn’t he? Besides, you two were the ones who offered to help in the first place."
Mark Antony said, leading the way.
They were navigating the dimly lit corridors of the building.
From up ahead, the sounds of men swinging swords and practicing strikes echoed through the halls.
"But we didn’t think it would be something like this. If things go badly, the Senate might hold us accountable..."
"Quiet. That might not be so bad."
"What do you mean, ’wouldn’t be so bad’?"
The Metellus brothers whispered back and forth.
"If the Senate tries to place the blame on us, Lucius Caesar will do everything in his power to protect us, won’t he?"
"Yeah, Caesar has never betrayed anyone who helped him. I suppose that makes sense."
"Exactly. By drawing the Senate’s anger, we could turn it into a stepping stone for greater advancement."
Overhearing their whispers, Antony burst into laughter.
"Neither of you needs to worry so much. Anyone listening would think we were the ones plotting a riot."
"But gathering weapons does rather suggest that, doesn’t it?"
"Weapons..."
Antony muttered, striding down the corridor.
He was leading a contingent of Caesar’s men.
Some cavalrymen from allied towns, still in Rome after the festival, had also joined their ranks.
"What we need now isn’t just weapons."
They soon halted before a pair of massive double doors.
At the elder Metellus’s gesture, waiting slaves unlocked the heavy chains.
"So this is one of the few places in Rome where weapons can be legally stored."
Antony stepped into the room.
It housed far more than simple blades.
There were shields of various kinds, daggers, curved blades, maces, and even tridents.
Almost every weapon used in the arena seemed to be stockpiled here.
"I can see why you keep this place locked down. You wouldn’t want gladiators getting their hands on all this."
"Security became much tighter after the Spartacus rebellion. The armory was overrun far too quickly back then. These days, there are always at least four guards posted here."
Metellus said, picking up a gladius.
This was one of the armories belonging to a gladiator training school.
Traditionally, bringing armed forces within the pomerium—Rome’s sacred boundary—was forbidden.
But there were exceptions, such as gladiatorial arenas and training schools like this one.
Gladiators needed weapons for training and combat.
That was precisely why Mark Antony had come here.
"Everyone, grab a dagger. Keep it well-hidden inside your tunics."
"Are we not taking gladii?"
The younger Metellus asked.
"I thought that’s what you came for."
"Caesar wants to keep weapon usage to a minimum. If things turn ugly, we’ll have no choice, but until then, we need to try and handle this non-lethally."
"Non-lethal? And how exactly do you plan to manage that?"
"Isn’t it obvious? It’s the first thing drilled into every Roman legionary during training."
Antony pointed at the shields and asked.
"How many former legionaries do we have here?"
At his question, every single man raised his hand.
"And how many of you know how to lock shields and form up in ranks?"
Not a single hand was lowered.
Antony clapped each of the Metellus brothers on the back.
"Let’s see how well these assassins fare against former Roman legionaries. Everyone, grab a shield! And take a club!"
As he was giving the orders, Antony suddenly paused, his eyes catching on something.
A smirk formed on his lips as he reached out for an item hanging on the wall.
"Now this could come in handy."
***
"What do we do now? Pompey and that bitch of a daughter of his are holed up in their domus and haven’t shown so much as a hair."
"The streets are crawling with Caesar’s men and Pompey’s men. They’re already sweeping the other districts too."
"At this rate, it’s only a matter of time before we’re caught."
The men spoke in low voices, their expressions grim.
They were Joseph and his comrades—the very conspirators behind the plot to assassinate Pompey.
Back when that mysterious man provided them with weapons, their plan had seemed destined for success.
But once word of their assassination plot leaked onto the streets, everything went up in smoke.
"The plan is ruined anyway. We need to scatter now and wait for our next opportunity."
"There is no ’next opportunity.’ Our names and faces are already known, aren’t they?"
Joseph snarled.
"Even if we run now, it won’t take long for them to hunt us down. We have to finish what we started."
"Then what do you suggest we do?"
"Then we storm Pompey’s domus, even if it kills us. We’ll make him pay the price for defiling the Temple in Jerusalem. And that daughter of his will pay with him."
"But won’t the guards be watching every entrance?"
"It’s not entirely impossible. Among Pompey’s household slaves..."
Their hushed plotting continued.
Even in these dire straits, they had to accomplish their mission no matter the cost.
Was this not what the Lord desired?
By killing Pompey, they would punish Rome’s accomplice and strike a blow against the filthy High Priest who had colluded with him.
Pompey’s blood would become a testament to the strength of their faith.
Just as they were whispering through the details...
Loud footsteps closed in around them.
"Damn it, they’re coming!"
"Have they already found us? I knew there was a traitor among us."
Joseph clicked his tongue in disgust. Joseph leapt to his feet, and he and his comrades hurriedly gathered their weapons and gear.
"Scatter for now. Once the sun sets, meet me at the agreed place."
Joseph slipped out of the insula into the back alley.
And he wasn’t the only one.
His comrades also dispersed, taking different exit routes out of the building.
Even if some were caught, the rest could still fulfill their sacred mission.
With his sword concealed beneath his tunic, Joseph set off at a brisk pace.
But he didn’t get far.
"The streets... are too empty."
As if the area had been deliberately cleared out, the usually bustling streets were eerily desolate.
Then, the sound of footsteps reached him.
Heavy, synchronized footsteps struck the ground, moving as one.
It was a sound Joseph knew all too well.
"Why do I hear a Roman legion marching here...?"
It was the unmistakable cadence of Roman legionaries marching in formation.
Though the distinct clatter of hobnailed boots was missing, the rhythmic thudding drew steadily closer.
"Damn it!"
Joseph spun on his heels and bolted in the opposite direction.
But the marching echoed from every direction.
It came from the main roads, the narrow alleyways, and even the adjacent buildings.
"How on earth did a legion manage to march into Rome?!"
As he and a few of his comrades rounded a street corner, they froze.
The first thing they saw was a sea of shields.
A massive wall of shields completely blocked their path.
The wall was made up of everything from large Roman scuta to round Greek aspis shields.
A tight formation of men with shields advanced menacingly toward them.
"Stop! We have word that the conspirators behind the assassination plot are here!"
As if on cue, Joseph and his comrades whirled around and sprinted the other way.
At that exact moment, the shrill blast of a whistle ripped through the air behind them.
It was the very same whistle Roman commanders used to signal orders on the battlefield.
"Here they are!"
Panting heavily, Joseph glanced over his shoulder.
Mercifully, the men weren’t giving chase.
"Damn it, in God’s name..."
But there was no time to think.
He had to keep moving if he wanted to survive.
Turning another corner into a narrow alley, he and his comrades were forced to stop yet again.
Once more, men with shields blocked the entire alleyway.
"Over here!"
"Advance!"
Another whistle blasted, and the shield wall began to march forward.
It looked less like men than a solid wall slowly closing in on them.
"They’re behind us too!"
Joseph quickly realized that every escape route had been sealed off.
"Cast the ropes!"
Ropes with looped ends flew out from behind the shield wall.
They were the same lassos that had been used during the recent Floralia festival.
As his comrades thrashed about, their limbs hopelessly tangled in the ropes, Joseph desperately slashed at the cords with his sword.
"Don’t panic! If we climb through the windows and circle around..."
At that very moment, a massive shadow blotted out the light above them.
Joseph jerked his head up, but it was already too late to react.
"A net...?"
He murmured, staring blankly at the descending net
"Why would they have something like this in Rome?"
Belatedly, realization dawned on him.
It was a retiarius net—the kind certain gladiators used in the arena.
Joseph swung his sword and twisted away in the nick of time. However, the man standing next to him wasn’t as fortunate.
The coarse netting swallowed the man whole, dragging him down to the cobblestones as he shrieked in terror.
"Take them alive!"
Antony’s booming voice echoed from somewhere in the fray.
Joseph gritted his teeth and threw himself into a nearby alley.
Only then did he understand.
This was a hunt.
All of Rome was hunting them down like animals.
