“It is not these well-fed long haired men that I fear, but the pale and hungry looking.”
– Gaius Julius Caesar Plutarch-Antony 11.3
Some time after the still shocking revelation of his current predicament, Julius managed gather himself together and prepare for the meeting with the senate. Fixing his hair and donning his toga, he exits his chambers to meet the gaze of the man he met earlier. Still not knowing what or who this man supposed to be, Julius cautioned himself into not asking such questions, as he himself still does not know who he even is currently. Many thoughts already went through his mind as he was preparing in his chambers.
“Who am I?”
“Whose body is this?”
“He said my name was Julius?”
All questions he wanted to ask, but chose not to, as he does not want to attract unwanted attention minutes into this supposed newfound world and reality.
“Shall we proceed to the Curia lord consul?”
The man asks, still seemingly taken aback from the events earlier. Julius nods in response to this question. The man steps aside and gestures for Julius to take the lead. As both men began making their way towards the curia, they pass by 3 pairs of armed men seemingly equipped as guards stationed in set intervals going down the hill. Noticing Julius as he passes, each pair paces themselves a comfortable distance from him. Surprised, Julius thinks to himself regarding the odd number of guards.
“Since I am the consul, I take that these guards are the lictors assigned to me.”
“That would mean that the man who I met earlier should also be a lictor.”
“Making their total number to be 7… strange…”
“There are supposed to the 12 lictors guarding the consul in every public appearance…”
“But I suppose it would not be necessary to have 12 people accompany me in walking towards the curia.”
Entering the street he saw earlier, Julius takes notice of how truly grim the state of the citizens are. Most of the citizens seem downtrodden, the men either starving or disabled, the women either begging or desperately trying to sell their bodies for money or food. The children look the healthiest, but even then, bordering the state of malnutrition. It is not outlandish to assume that whatever scraps of change or food these families get clearly go to nourishing their children however they can.
How very noble…How very sad…
Old men either alone or in groups grumble and complain about the state of affairs. Some, who seem rather deranged wallow in the shadows of the alleyways. It was then that one of these seemingly deranged old men lashed out and grabbed one of the children that Julius noticed were playing earlier.
“YOU have food kid?! I see that bag you have there!”
The man shouts hysterically demanding the food from the child, frantically grabbing the bag intending to take it.
“N-no! its for my mama!”
The young one shouts back desperately resisting the actions of the man. His figure far too small and his strength far too weak to fight back against the adrenaline aided clutches of an old man who has nothing. The insane codger rips the bag from the you one’s arms, tearing a hole open from his overgrown finger nails. Grains of wheat began pouring from the seam, the child shouts in horror.
“No!!!”
Eyes seeing no direction but the path of desperate greed, the old man gathers the grains along with dirt and dust of the streets with his hands. He smiles as he eyes the feast in his palms. In one fell swoop he consumes what few grams of grain he could hold in his grip, left…right…left…right, he continues on and on restlessly trying to grab hold of more and more. At a certain point, one wonders if it was still even grain he was shoving down his mouth, it could very well have just been dirt and he still would not have stopped. It was very clear that he has truly lost his mind.
Oblivious to the child next to him. The young one was wailing, bashing his fists at the man with whatever strength he had left, pulling the whole ridden piece of cloth of a garment the psycho adorns.
“PLEASE! PLEASE STOP!”
Their cries could seemingly be heard from many blocks way. So desperate…so hopeless…so…defeated. They know the deed has been done, they know that the food is gone, the food…that in his poor little heart, wanted to give to his mother…no…needed…to give to his mother. The child may have not been starving, but he knew his mother was, he knew that if he was not able to bring back food, even if it was just a crumb, his mother would not have long left in this world…in his life. So there he was…begging…screaming…pleading, with the man, pleading with ANYONE, the Gods, their friends, the people, the lictors, to Julius…anyone, to help him…refusing to accept the reality the world has given him…how very noble.
Any other person who was born and exposed to the cultures and reality of the times would have understood that this was a common occurrence. In Julius’s context, it was the days before common era, many people from all over the world could have been starving. Cases such as these were not unheard of, as such, most would have turned a blind eye and ignore the cries and pleas of one child. But Julius was not of this era, he came from a time of relative peace and undeniable prosperity. In his world, almost everyone lived in relative well being, in his view, nobody should be doing such a thing, especially towards a child, and in his mind, such behaviours and actions are reprehensible, cruel, incomprehensible…inhumane…
“These people are supposed to Romans, the glorious, proud, noble Romans…”
He whispered to himself with a heavy heart, his hand clutched and his eyes seething with rage. He knew very well of the context of these times…he knew that such things are not uncommon for the era…he spent 10 years of his live researching about the past, about Rome…he knew…but a part of his ideas and fantastical view of Rome privy to his contemporary life, this almost delusionary expectation of the people of Rome, the NOBLE people of Rome, broke…
A chord broke within Julius, he could not accept that there was even a thought of such a thing happening in the great city of Rome, let alone it being a reality playing in front of him right now…he was in denial…THIS angered him, it angered him so much that he lunged and towards the old man screaming profanities in modern Italian. This sudden unexpected bout of rage surprised not only his retinue of lictors, but the people in the area.
“You foul wretch!”
He screamed, understandable only to him and him alone. The old man, non the wiser, suddenly got met with a kick square to his face. He falls down to his side bracing the area where he just got hit. Julius kept stomping and kicking the man, he did not bother to aim…well more like he was too blinded by rage to do so…he stomped on the man wherever and whenever he could. Panicked and confused, his lictors try and fail to pull Julius off the beaten man. In a desperate attempt of retaliation, the old man grabs Julius’s leg, almost leading Julius to fall. It was then at that moment when the lictors noticed his attempt and finally brandished their blades against the man. No words were spoken anymore, the arm of the old man was slashed and maimed, bone almost visible to the naked eye. His grip was loosened and the consul’s leg was free.
Realizing what just happened, the manic rage of the consul was stopped, Julius composed himself in front of the people and faced the child. To the shock and we of all who were watching. He knelt down in one knee intending to console the child.
“Worry not little one, you shall have your grain…”
Julius stands up, his dignified figure and stare filled with conviction, grabbed the attention of everyone. He looks around the crowd and proclaims in a sound voice.
“And so will all of you.”
“Prepare to distribute my share of the stock in the granaries, have it all distributed to the people.”
“Leave no share for myself”
Not knowing how to respond the order’s of the new consul, the lictor from before asks while baffled.
“Lord Consul?”
Somewhat annoyed and still partially enraged at the old man, Julius simply responds.
“I will not repeat myself.”
Stricken and moved by weight of his words, the lictor quickly replied.
“YES CONSUL JULIUS!”
Everyone who bore witness to such an event had many possible reactions…confusion…uncertainty…fear…awe…wonder. Cheers from the crowd suddenly erupted, shouting his name. Praise was given from every corner of the area, the child elated, the old man mortified, the lictors surprised…and a man watching from afar…intrigued…
