“Panem et opus”

“Panem et opus!”

“Panem et opus!”

“Dear god.” I rubbed my eyes as the mob chanted.

As my vision cleared once more, I saw a horde unlike anything I’d ever seen. There had to be hundreds– no, thousands of them! Squished together in the forum, they were one giant monstrosity; a hulking creature with a thousand eyes, a thousand arms, a thousand heads. But only one will.

It was not a good day for the forum. The crowd spilled through and filled the entire area, heads and bodies crammed into every space for what seemed like miles. Nearby, tall statues stared down in disapproval, and tiled roads cracked in complaint from the abuse they were receiving.

But even those cracks were quiet whispers compared to the roar of the mob. I glanced at GPT’s screen as the translations started coming in.

“Bread and work!”

“Bread and work!”

“Bread and work!”

The chant continued, louder than the bustling city life, still alive around the area. Louder than the roaring flames, now spreading to distant houses. Louder than the officers, now shouting orders to the men, and the clacking of armor and weapons.

I gulped as I saw my comrades. A few hundred in all, but we were scattered. Many were drunk. Sure, we had armor, weapons. But the mob seemed to had found some arms too. Opportunistic hands had seized upon anything that might be used as a weapon. Broken lamp posts, pitchforks, rakes and brooms, sticks and stones… they had everything. One man stood out to me, hurling vulgarities from atop a group’s shoulders. If words could pierce armor, I’d wager a good amount we’d all be dead already.

If not, well… there was a good chance we were dead anyways. Behind the line of neatly formed soldiers that hid the rest of us from view, my comrades were a sorry lot. With unshaven heads, dizzy steps, and mismatched armor, they hardly inspired much confidence.

Gaius approached behind me, his voice low and troubled. “Careful now.” He warned. “This is worse than last time.”

“Last time?” The thought that this was common didn’t make me feel any safer.

“Plebes.” He spoke the word with an unusual venom. “They don’t know what’s good for them. Bad harvests, poor trade, and all they can think of is riot, riot, and riot. What do they even want?”

“Well…”

I looked at the crowd again. My face scrunched up.

“Bread and work!”

“Bread and work!”

“Maybe listen?” I suggested.

“Wisdom worthy of a demigod.” Gaius remarked dryly. “Bread, work, circuses and whores. What else is new? How do they propose we find it? Any of it? We just went through three emperors and two civil wars, for the gods’ sake. The treasury is as empty as their skulls. Big guy has already debased the denarius. At this rate it’ll become a copper ass with silver paint.”

“Raise taxes?”

Gaius gave them a scornful look. “From this lot? Only thing they have worth a denarius is their daughters, and gods know they’ve probably sold them already. If they hadn’t sold themselves. Sons of whores, it probably runs in the family.”

“The rich?” I thought of Scipio’s inheritance, a sack overflowing with gold. “They rich. Have money.”

“Tax them?” Gaius’ eyes widened. “You have a suicide wish?”

“They rich.”

Gaius shook his head. “No, no, no. Don’t let little Scipio from yesterday give you the wrong idea. Dear old gramps supported the plebes too much. Stepped out of line. Big guy put him on the list, that’s why. Rob a man who’s not on the list, and you’ll soon find yourself on the wrong end of the spear. This is Rome. Robbery is fine. Robbery… now that isn’t.”

I looked at the mob uneasily. “What then?”

“What then? What happens is we…” He drew his sword. “Disperse them.”

I bit my lip tight enough to draw blood.

HP 109/110

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Disperse didn’t sound awfully violent, but by the looks of things it was going to be.

I scanned the crowd. Sure, most of it looked like angry men, and younger men in particular, but they weren’t the only ones. I saw the gray hair of grandparents in the crowd. Frail, toothless beggars. Young children no more than twelve, and younger ones still perched on their parents’ shoulders.

“They… normal. Not bad.” I tried.

“Disrupting order all the same.” He said, eyes dark. He begun walking towards them.

I followed behind anxiously. “Children.” I warned.

“They’re small. They can run fast enough.”

“Grandparents.” My voice rose, more urgent now. “Old. Sick.”

“They were healthy enough to come.”

My eyes widened in horror. “They hungry!” I pleaded, desperately.

The harsh glint of sunlight reflected of Gaius’ blade. “I know.” He said. “They always were. I would know.” His voice grew quieter as he added. “I was once one of them.”

The blast of a trumpet broke through the afternoon air. The line in front of us advanced in lockstep, shield against shield. One figure stepped forwards, larger and taller than the rest. I heard the familiar voice of the fat soldier, now raised to a shout.

“Plebes!” He roared, his voice echoing across the forum. “You stand in defiance of Caesar's order. Disperse to your business!”

A chorus of boos and jeering answered him.

“Barbarian!”

“Cretin!”

“Emperor’s dog!”

“Starver!”

My fists clenched so hard my hands became white. I looked at myself uneasily. I was in a standard issue praetorian military uniform, with some less ornate armor. On probation, Gaius had told me. It was adequate enough protection, with some plates tucked into the chainmail. If someone tried punching me their fist would break, and Gaius swore on his honor it’d stop all but the strongest arrows.

How well would it do against the mob though? Being crushed by a hundred bodies? I could only shiver at the thought.

Probably not good enough.

The crowd was getting worked up again.

“Bread and work!”

“Bread and work!”

“Bread and work!”

Gaius’ expression became uglier. “More courageous than usual, I see.” He stopped right behind the formation.

I saw the stones begin to fly. Stones, sandals, rotten fruit and eggs; all sorts of unpleasantries rained down on the formation. They mostly bounced off the shields, unhurt, though a few splatters did catch some legionaries on their helms. The fat soldier caught the worst of it, being in the center.

Then came the pitchfork, lazily thrown. Right as the fat soldier was blocking a few stones. I saw the fat soldier stumble back, and then a red splatter of blood.

For a moment, the crowd suddenly went quiet as he reeled, clutching his face. It seemed as if all of Rome had fallen silent. Watching, waiting.

Even from this distance, I could see his eyes tinged with fury. “Coepio.”

Then the trumpet blasted, three times. And all hell broke loose.

The legionaries approached, thrusting their spears, and death followed close behind. As they advanced, the first line of rioters screamed. Spears were pulled back, now bloody at the tips, and gore flooded in fountains into the air. Soon they disappeared, trampled beneath armored boots.

I stared as they did, mouth open, eyes wide, body frozen.

As the formation parted, soldiers surged through, Gaius among them. They hacked, slashed, cut, and chaos followed.

Like a herd seeing predators, the crowd panicked. Frenzied footsteps pushed over, around, on top of eachother. Bodies fell in tangled bundles to the ground. Men fell, children screamed, and carnage ensued.

“No…” I whispered.

The soldiers moved forwards like clockwork, each wave grinding against and making mincemeat of their targets. This was not a fight, no, not in any real sense. This was a slaughter.

“No…”

An old man gurgled, clutching his stomach. Something spilled out, dark and red and slimy.

“Stop…”

A mother screamed, a spear cutting her off at the windpipe. Her child stared, horrified. Then the soldiers approached, and the kid ran.

“Stop!” I shouted, but none could hear me.

I found my feet. Ringing was heavy in my ears. I ran, sprinted towards the kid, arms reaching out. I was a pace away, almost able to touch him… and then…

A spear point protuded through his stomach. He stared up at me, eyes stained with tears, as if to ask. I heard his question even though he couldn’t speak.

Why?

Then a bloody gurgle, and he fell. Just another body out of dozens. Something splattered onto my face as he fell. Red, wet, sticky. With shaking hands, I touched my face. As I pulled it back, I saw a sea of red.

I couldn’t tell you how long I spent that day. Staring at the child.

When I looked up again the crowd was gone. In their place, only corpses remained. Strewn about in a morbid, bloody graveyard. Misshapen limbs joining the grime below. The ringing never subsidized.

As I looked up, I saw the soldiers smiling. Smiling. Smiling and laughing. As if this were all some game. The fat soldier laughed loudest of them all, his bloodied face now wrapped by a rag. In his arms, I saw a thrashing body.

“You cretin! Barbarian! Let go of me!”

I blinked. It was a girl. Or a young woman. I couldn’t tell.

“Ok.” The fat soldier smiled as he tossed her to the ground. I caught a glimpse of her, and my eyes widened once more.

She was small, her arms and legs much thinner than what full meals ought to have provided. Her form was lithe, lean. More agile than strong.

She was pretty too. Dark, amber eyes mirrored her bright red hair. Her face was soft, with curves along that suggested someone who smiled often. Not that it was easy to tell, with her now wearing a scowl.

She spat something that chatGPT refused to translate.

The soldiers gathered around her, smiling, joking, laughing.

I think I could translate their obscenities, their comments, their remarks and their insults. I think I could paint you as accurately a picture as I saw that day. But I don’t think I need to. I think you can imagine it.

I’m unsure how I found it in myself to act, even now. Maybe it was because of what had happened earlier. Maybe it was because the chaos was over. Maybe it was because she was a pretty girl, and I finally found my spine. Maybe because I’d been pathetically immobile, this entire time, and finally couldn’t take it anymore. Not enough courage to do the right thing, or put my conscience to bed. The worst of both worlds.

But I stepped forwards.

“Hey.” I said, raising my voice. “Enough.”

“Aye, what’s this?” The fat soldier grinned. “Want in on the fun? There’s a lot of us, we don’t mind. Sharing is all fine by us.”

A few raucous laughs followed.

“Leave her.” I said. My hands went to my sword.

The laughs were harder now. “Well, well, what have we here?” The fat soldier bellowed. “Fool thinks he’s a hero!”

The fat man unsheathed his sword again. Long, bloody, still dripping from the remnants of his last kill. “Who do you think you are? We have you twelve to one.”

“Lions… had six, to one. They ran.” I stared at them with naked contempt. “You are… no lions.”

“Roland?” I saw Gaius approaching from the distance, panic on his face. “Woah, woah, woah.” He held up his hands. “Slow down, what’s happening.”

“Our hero here has a bit of problems with our fun.” The fat soldier said.

Gaius grimaced. “Roland.” His voice was tinged with warning.

“I do.” I stared past Gaius. “Off her.”

Gaius slunk back. “I’ll get help.” He promised.

I’ll be damned if that wasn’t just him helping himself.

My sword left my scabbard, glinting with a harsh light. The others did the same, and the silence was broken by the drawing of a dozen swords.

Fatso smiled. “Take his arms.”