The peoples’ collective voices cried out, demanding help, stating they were hungry, that they had come to Rome for protection, and that it was the Senate's duty to allow them entrance.
“Get back you bloody fools! No entry I said, on orders of the Senate!”
“What is going on here?!" Gaius roared as his men pushed away the people that hung from the gate.
“What in Hades are you doing out there?” The soldier asked with a dumbfounded expression on his blank face. “There aren’t supposed to be any more men outside the city walls. Didn’t you get your orders properly?”
“Are you touched?! Open the bloody gates and allow us in before this crowd has our heads!” Gaius demanded as rocks, clumps of mud and other assorted garbage was thrown at his men with increasing ferocity.
“At once, sir — Open the gates!”
Two dozen guards rallied to the gate and took up formation, interlocking their shields together, ready to repel anyone who dared to follow Gaius and his men through.
Gaius’ men were barely able to hold back the rushing mob that ceased opportunity once they saw the gates were rising, as hundreds of bodies pressed forward.
“Forward, quickly!” Gaius yelled as he and his men rushed through the city gates.
Several dozen people took advantage and ran forward as well, forcing their way through. Their efforts were cut short as the city cohorts attacked them, beating anyone they grabbed with clubs before pushing them back outside. The larger mass of people met with the Roman formation once Gaius and his century were safe. They bashed blunted swords against their shields as they carefully marched.
Some of the bravery men challenged the approaching Romans, urging those behind them to try their best to overwhelm the guards, but most, fearful of bruise and broken bones, after watching other refugees beaten down, decided against heeding the encouragement from those in front.
Moments later, the savage beating of already sickly and starving refugees began as the city guards easily manhandled the mob back outside the gates, before the heavy iron bars came crashing down. Those that were still trapped inside, were rustled to the ground, their foreheads bloodied, arms broken, crying out in pain as they were dragged away.
“What the hell is going on here? Why are the gates sealed, and these people forced to suffer beyond our walls?” Gaius demanded between heavy breaths.
“I apologies, sir but two day ago the Senate declared martial law, recalling all soldiers beyond the walls back into the city, and the gates to be sealed until further notice. I wasn’t aware that any of our men were left outside during the recall,” the guard captain reported.
“We’ve only just returned from the north. Now tell me, why would the Senate do such a thing as forbade these people entrances into the city? Do you know what they have already endured? For crying out loud, man, there are thousands left along the road leading to Rome, dead, food for the birds.” Gaius could not hold back his disgust. He had promised those he escorted that Rome would be haven for them, that the Senate would embrace them and bandage their wounds. However, the sight upon reaching the city, and the fowl stench within Rome’s walls, made him sick to his stomach.
“I am sorry, sir. After the riots, which left much of the city in ruins, the Senate did what it felt was best.”
“Why then do the people riot?” Gaius asked, dreading what his gut was telling him. Rumors had already reached him, which he prayed to the gods couldn’t be true. However, from the sorrowfully stare from the guard captain; he knew the truth before a word was uttered.
“Trasimene, sir — Flaminius’ legions, all of them, to the last man — they are gone — thirty thousand men, just gone.”
“My word…” Gaius could hardly contain himself. He felt weak in the knees, his mind struggling to comprehend what his ears were hearing. So many men…The Sixth…Valerius, all gone,
“What about survivors?” Gaius asked.
The guard captain scratched his head, seemingly trying to remember.
“There have been a few trickling in, here and there. Even so, the Carthaginians have been hunting them down, slaughtering them like wild game, or so I’ve heard. Needless to say, when the word reached the mob, well, they acted like anyone would, I suppose. They rioted, nearly burning down the Senate House. Damn near a quarter of the city went up in flames. Those few days, well, I’m glad you weren’t here to see it, sir. I don’t enjoy putting the sword to our people, but orders are orders.”
The guard captain sighed heavily as he spoke again.
“Will there be anything else, sir?”
“No. Thank you. Carry on,” Gaius answered. The captain saluted and then rushed off, barking orders at his men as they continued to hold back the mass of people beyond the gates. Gaius hoped, but knew it was wishful thinking that this same scene wasn’t repeated at every entrance to Rome.
“Well, what do we do now,” Maurus asked, having overheard the entire conversation.
Gaius wasn’t too sure. He had been hoping to rejoin Valerius and Sixth Legion up north, but that was obviously out of the question now. At the moment, however, only one other person came to mind.
“I need more answer as to what is going on. Come, gather the men, we march, now,” Gaius replied.
The streets were nearly empty save for a few citizens who ran, with fear as they saw Gaius and his men marching down the narrow road. It was eerie. He was used to the volume of business and trade that normally occupied every block, but what greeted him was empty shops and boarded-up windows. Soldiers were everywhere, patrolling with orders to take anyone into custody that were out passed the curfew, or looting those shops that were abandoned or burnt-out.
Gaius understood the reasoning behind the riots well enough. Two armies sent north, tens of thousands of men and two consuls, dead, left to freeze in waning winter months before the thaw. The mob wanted answers as to why their fathers and sons would never come home — what was the Senate going to do, and how would it protect Rome from Hannibal, who was fast become a man of mythical standing. However, the sights that Gaius witnessed, the stacks of dead, piled up like winter logs on carts, the smell of lingering death and burnt wood, and the sense of sorrow and hopelessness was overpowering. Rome felt like a blotted corpse — a defeated city, and Hannibal wasn’t even within sight of its walls.
For the moment, Gaius’ only concern was checking on his friends. He prayed every step he made that Antonyand Julia were safe. Had they left Rome before the riots, or had they endured? These questions plagued him without end until finally, he saw his destination as, he, and his men marched around the block, and turned down the street that led to Varro’ estate.
Gaius’ eyes opened wide as instinctively his right hand fell to the hilt of his sword, when he saw two dozen men, armed, standing outside the home of Antony and Julia. With them were several more slaves as they moved an assortment of furnishings, statues and other personal items into horse-drawn wagons.
“Looters, you suspect?” Maurus asked as he saw Gaius’ sudden reaction.
“I do not know. However, they don’t look too friendly. Stand ready on my mark. I don’t want to give them a moment to act if this should turn bad.”
“Never fear, my friend, we have the numbers,” Maurus mussed.
“Numbers haven’t worked so far in our favor,” Gaius added.
The steady marching of his men quickly drew the attention of the armed men around the home of Senator Varro. Their leader, a tall broad-shouldered man, shaved head and numerous scars, most likely a former gladiator, eased his hand over his sword, watching with careful attention as Gaius and his century came closer.
Many of the big man’s men weren’t as seasoned, or ready for a fight. Some seemed panic by the sight of a hundred Romans marching towards them, but still, more than a few stood ready to fight if one was called for.