Chapter 121: Chapter 121 : Armory Show
The Lusus Troiae, the Troy Game, was one of Rome’s oldest traditions.
Although it was called a game, a lusus, it was essentially a mock battle performed by the sons of noble families.
The young noblemen divided themselves into two sides: Greece and Troy.
They would charge toward each other as if about to clash, only to veer away at the last moment, weaving through one another’s formations, wheeling around, retreating, and advancing once more.
It wasn’t merely a race to see who was the fastest.
It was a rigorous test of horsemanship and formation discipline.
"To think that family’s boy has grown so much already."
"He looks like he’ll make a fine commander."
The young nobles displayed their skills before massive crowds, making names for themselves.
So it came as no surprise that the young men assigned to the Trojan faction turned to Lucius Julius Caesar for help.
"Didn’t he command the allied cavalrymen during the campaign against the bandits?"
"He did. Anyone who read Brutus’s book can tell. He even developed entirely new equipment and tactics, did he not?"
"I saw Antony on horseback the other day, and he is incredibly skilled with horses as well. I hear it’s all thanks to an invention called the stirrup."
"Stirrup?"
"Word is that Lucius Caesar invented it himself."
However, that wasn’t the only reason this year’s Troy Game was drawing so much attention.
After Lucius Caesar’s appointment, the commander of the Greek faction was announced.
It was none other than the son of Quintus Metellus.
The very man who had competed against Lucius for a position among the vigintisexviri in charge of roads, and yet had recently worked alongside him to thwart the plot to assassinate Pompey.
And now, the two of them were set to face each other as enemies in the Troy Game.
"I can’t even begin to imagine what’s going to happen."
***
[Sing, O burning walls.
Sing of Mount Ida’s shadow as it stained the night sky red.
The wind blew from the sea,
And silent stars hung cold above the halls of Priam.
On that day, the gates of Troy were thrown wide.
Hands certain of victory dragged ruin within the walls,
And songs of festival became the shriek of spearpoints.
Hector was already asleep beneath the distant earth,
And the prophecy no one believed
Was the first to prove true.
Flames devoured the rooftops,
Mothers wept as they covered their children’s mouths,
And old fathers clung to collapsing thresholds.
Yet not all destruction spells the end.
Look not behind you, Aeneas.
Upon your back rests your old father,
In your hand, your young son,
And in your embrace, an ember not yet extinguished.
Troy has fallen,
But the embers you carry
Shall one day blaze again upon a foreign riverbank.
The fields of Latium know you not yet,
And the Tiber’s waters still await your oars.
Weep, O Troy.
For today is the day your walls crumble.
And yet, one day,
Your sons shall mount their steeds once more
And ride in the name of Troy.]
"That was truly magnificent. I’m completely speechless."
I clapped my hands vigorously as I spoke.
I never imagined I would hear such a brilliant poem.
"Even Homer would have been impressed by this."
"You don’t have to say things just to flatter me, Brother."
Julia said, her face flushing bright red.
It was a complete change from the solemn expression she had worn while reciting the poem moments earlier.
"I still have a long way to go before I can compare myself to your writing, Brother."
"No, you’re vastly more talented than I am, Julia."
I said, speaking entirely from the heart.
All the plays and stories I had shown my family so far were simply borrowed from Shakespeare and other famous authors.
But Julia had penned this entirely on her own.
Sure, it had a bit of a Homeric flair to it, but all writers stand on the shoulders of giants.
"With a little polishing, I think this could be published."
"Published? My writing?"
Julia waved her hands frantically.
"You do not have to praise me that much just because we are family. My writing isn’t nearly good enough to show to the world."
"Have a little faith in your brother for once."
I replied with a chuckle.
I honestly wasn’t exaggerating.
I knew Julia loved reading and writing, but I had not realized she was this good.
It reminded me of the Aeneid, written by Virgil.
Then again, they shared the exact same subject matter.
Wait, come to think of it, Virgil must be just a little kid right about now.
Virgil, Rome’s greatest poet and the favored writer of Emperor Augustus.
Julia’s writing was already approaching a level that might one day rival his.
"Where did you draw your inspiration from?"
"Father always says our line descends from Venus, right? Venus fell in love with Anchises, a member of the Trojan royal family, and..."
"And from them, Aeneas was born. When Troy fell, Aeneas escaped and traveled all the way here to Latium in Italy."
I finished her sentence. Aeneas’s son founded the kingdom of Alba Longa, and Romulus and Remus were of that very bloodline.
Romulus founded Rome, and later on, Rome went to war with Alba Longa, ultimately absorbing its people.
And the Julian family, to which I belonged, claimed descent from one of Alba Longa’s most prestigious noble lines.
In other words, if you traced our bloodline all the way back, you would eventually arrive at Aeneas and Venus herself.
Of course, it was likely just a heavily embellished legend.
After all, there were plenty of Roman nobles who claimed to descend from Hercules or other gods.
"And now you have been chosen as commander of the Trojan faction, Brother. It’s a bit too perfect to be a mere coincidence, don’t you think?"
"The young nobles asked me to lead them after seeing the success of the bandit campaign. And that campaign succeeded thanks to you, Julia."
Without the kite Julia gave me, I never would have figured out a way to catch those bandits.
Julia blushed, clearly embarrassed.
"So what are you going to do now?"
"Do about what?"
"The younger Metellus is commanding the Greek faction. And you received the Metellii’s help during the recent assassination plot."
"I did."
I nodded. With the Metellus brothers’ help, the arrests gained the necessary legitimacy.
Even the Senate couldn’t find an excuse to take issue with it.
"But the Troy Game is a battle for honor and dignitas. If one side wins, the other must lose."
"If I win, Metellus loses. If Metellus wins, I lose."
Julia was entirely right. Roman politicians could trade favors endlessly, but once their own interests were on the line, they turned ice-cold.
"But if you defeat Metellus, won’t he resent you? He’ll think you betrayed him after he risked himself to help you."
"You have grown quite accustomed to Roman politics, Julia."
At my words, Julia puffed out her chest proudly and sat down next to me.
"I am nearly an adult now, too. I’ve been learning all sorts of things from Pompeia."
"I would rather my adorable little sister not turn into a cold-hearted politician."
"Are you calling Pompeia cold-hearted?"
"..."
Well, Pompeia definitely had a sharp, calculating side to her when it came to politics.
She insisted that I had to utterly crush Metellus in this game.
Truth be told, beating Metellus wouldn’t be difficult.
I was still the only one producing revolutionary equipment such as stirrups, and my faction was packed with capable men who had proven themselves during the bandit campaign.
Antony was one of them, and while Brutus was not quite on his level, he had shown considerable skill as well.
"Perhaps Metellus will understand. If he were in your place, he likely would have made the same choice."
"But I’m not Metellus."
I replied with a smile.
I had not taken on the role of Trojan commander merely to win a mock battle.
I had a vastly more important goal in mind.
"There is a much greater dignitas to be found elsewhere."
At my words, Julia tilted her head in confusion.
***
"Are you really going to go to Caesar yourself?"
"What other choice do we have? We have no chance of beating him."
The younger Metellus let out a heavy sigh.
Ever since his father had pushed him into the role of commander, everything had gone disastrously.
The moment Lucius Caesar decided to participate, the outcome of the Troy Game had practically been decided.
Lucius had new equipment like stirrups, along with a roster of highly capable comrades.
Lucius had prepared everything he needed for this game.
In contrast, morale in Metellus’s Greek faction had hit rock bottom.
Everyone seemed resigned to a humiliating defeat.
But if they were crushed miserably in front of all of Rome, their honor and dignitas would plummet.
"Father had surely known that when he appointed me commander."
It was painfully obvious that his father, dissatisfied that he had helped Lucius, had deliberately pushed him into this impossible situation.
To preserve even a shred of dignity, he had to put up a fight against Lucius Caesar somehow.
He had suddenly been made an enemy of the very man he had tried so hard to befriend.
In the end, the younger Metellus made the only choice he had left.
He went to Lucius Caesar to surrender before the game even began.
If he raised the white flag before the contest even began, Lucius might allow him to keep at least a shred of honor.
And it would also prove that even if they stood on opposing sides, he harbored no actual hostility.
With that in mind, Metellus visited Lucius’s home.
However, Lucius’s response was entirely unexpected.
"You wish to concede before the game even begins? What on earth do you mean?"
"My faction cannot possibly win this game. You know that better than anyone, Caesar. So I have come to ask that you show mercy when the time comes."
"I appreciate you coming all this way, but I’m afraid I cannot accept your request."
Metellus bit his lip hard at Lucius’s answer.
So Lucius had no intention of showing him mercy after all.
He intended to crush him completely for daring to step forward, making him the laughingstock of all of Rome...
"Because I want a fair fight."
"A fair fight?"
"Yes. In fact, I was planning to visit you myself soon to discuss this, so your timing is perfect."
Lucius nodded.
"I will provide you with the stirrups and other equipment necessary for this game. Since you have not trained with them before, my men and I will personally instruct you. Will you train with us on the Campus Martius?"
"You’re going to give us the stirrups and teach us how to use them...?"
Metellus let out a disbelieving cough.
"Why on earth would you do such a thing?"
"Because, as I said, I want a fair fight."
Lucius shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"You and I are not enemies, Metellus. The Troy Game is an opportunity for young nobles to display their skills. Shouldn’t that opportunity be given equally to everyone?"
"But in the end, only the victor claims honor, does he not? Perhaps you do not care, but what of your comrades?"
"There is no honor in drawing a sword against an unarmed man. In fact, you’d only invite mockery. Is defeating an equal opponent not the true Roman way to win honor? Even in defeat, there is no shame if the fight is hard-fought."
With that, Lucius smiled warmly.
"Besides, something far more important is at stake in this Troy Game."
***
Around the same time, at Caesar’s Technical School—
"I heard Spurius returned to Rome. Has he still not shown up?"
"Vitruvius said he is taking a few weeks off to rest. Apparently, he had a rough time mining silver in Hispania."
"Or perhaps he simply missed his beautiful wife."
The men chatted idly as they shoved pieces of bread into their mouths.
Each man was both an instructor at the technical school and a researcher leading several assistants in developing new technologies.
"He must have received a hefty bonus. Think he plans to retire?"
"Spurius? That man would keep working even if you handed him a mountain of solid gold. I’ve never seen anyone more genuinely obsessed with developing new things."
As they were gossiping, Vitruvius entered the meeting room.
"Listen up, everyone. I have news for you."
Vitruvius said, raising a hand.
In the next moment, he laid several sheets of paper out on the table.
"Caesar has sent a new request."
The men exchanged eager glances at his words.
A request from Caesar. It could only mean one thing.
Caesar was finally about to unveil a new technology.
It had been quite some time since he introduced the stirrup and papermaking.
All the engineers had been eagerly waiting, wondering when Caesar would bestow another divine revelation upon them.
"What is it this time? Has he invented a flying carpet this time?"
"Take a look for yourselves."
Vitruvius said with a chuckle.
Without hesitation, the men swarmed the documents.
"These are..."
"He asked us to build prototypes as quickly as possible. He plans to unveil them at the upcoming Troy Game."
"These are indeed perfect for the Troy Game,"
one engineer remarked as he held up a sheet of paper.
He was not alone. Every engineer looked astounded.
"I have never seen weapons designed like this before."
