Rewriting History
Pax Romanus: Part I
By: CountessMorgana
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In the episode 'Rewriting History', we are shown a past in Edwardian times that bore heavily similarities to the here and now. Is it perhaps true that what is, will be, not only in the future but in the past?
Four eras. Four vastly different periods of human civilisation, yet no matter how much things and the world of men change, some things will forever remain the same.
Time to turn back the clock. Take a look, and see what might have been…
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Rome, circa 190 A.D.
The streets of the forum cuppendium were crowded with vendors hawking their wares, and all manner of customer and merchandise. Housewives, freedmen and servants alike milled amongst the squawking animals destined to end up as meals, blades of all shapes and sizes, crockery for tables, tack for the stables, jewels, wines, spices, cloth and textiles. While the vendors plied their trades, pickpockets and thieves did theirs; not a moment passed without at least one Roman discovering a missing purse. It seemed impossible for the tide of humanity to cease its ebb and flow for even a second to allow passage unmolested.
"Make way! Make way!"
Her escort's voice had little effect on the masses other than few curious or dispassionate glances. She quirked an eyebrow, and the large man shrugged in apology.
"Try again. Once more, at least."
"Lady, it will be the fourth time. I have spoken thus before and I speak thus again: they will not step aside unless they know what person of rank demands such honour."
The lady herself sighed and drew her veil back, just far enough so her face could be seen yet her red tresses remained modestly covered.
"I had hoped to go unnoticed. The Senate requested of me...well, I would hate to further antagonize their ill-will towards me."
The escort, who doubled as her guard, was suitably horrified. "Your person is intoccabile, Lady, untouchable! Holy! To lay even a finger with malice on you would mean death to the one who did thus!"
"Bonita may have thought the same, Dolorrex," the woman answered. "You know what they did to her."
Dolorrex lowered his head. "Forgive me, lady. It was not so long ago."
"It seems we have no choice, Dolorrex," she said wryly after a pause. "The wishes of the Senate cannot reasonably apply here. And if anyone should be foolish enough to approach without leave, you may – what was it you said?"
"I would send them down, Lady," Dolorrex replied.
"By that, I assume you mean down to the boatman sooner than they would wish."
"I meant to the ground," Dolorrex admitted, stepping out into the forum's street. "But the boatman fits well. Once they've gone down, they may have to wait for Charon to return after Bonita's crossing."
Green eyes narrowed. "Please, do not speak to me of Bonita."
The man nodded, turned to the crowds, and bellowed, "Make way! Make way for Kaesa Antonia Postumia, priestess and servant of Vesta! MAKE WAY FOR VIRGO VESTALIS!"
Dolorrex's words produced an immediate effect: The vendors nearest stopped hawking, their customers stopped bartering, and all took one look, stepped back, and bowed.
And with Dolorrex shouting and clearing her path, so did the Vestal Virgin named Kaesa Postumia proceed through the forum. Everyone she passed treated her with deference and honour. A few threw flowers towards her, while others shouted words of praise. One woman darted forward to press a golden hair ornament into her hand. Kaesa tried to return it, but the woman refused.
"A gift to you, integra. You once saved my son, and I have not forgotten. Please, take what little I can offer in thanks." she said, bowing deeply and waiting for Kaesa to move on before she went back to her stall.
A few more minutes passed in this vein, until she and Dolorrex reached another clearing in the forum. Why was not apparent until Dolorrex shouted, "HOLD!" and Kaesa, with a sinking feeling, focused on the tableau in front of her.
In the centre of the clearing was a large, tall wooden column, its base set deep beneath the dirt and cobblestones of the forum. A boy, not much older than Kaesa herself, was chained to the column, his tunic torn so his back was exposed. Two men stood nearby, one garbed in the robes of a prefectus urbanus. The other man had froze, wielding a massive flagellum, poised to land a punishing blow to the chained boy, that, if not killing him, would surely scar him for the rest of his life. Upon seeing Kaesa, the flagellum bearer lowered his whip, resignation in his features. Meanwhile—
"Who dares to oppose the will of the Senate and the people of Rome?" the Prefectus Urbanus, a small and unimposing man, shouted angrily. A papyrus roll, containing the details of the crime and punishment, was clutched in his hand. "What man dares to challenge my authority?"
Silence from the watching crowd, and Dolorrex gave Kaesa an encouraging nod. Frowning, Kaesa looked from the trio at the column, to her bodyguard, back again, and to Dolorrex once more. Her escort had a silently pleading expression on his face, and Kaesa sighed, resolving to interrogate Dolorrex on this the moment she returned home to the Atrium Vestae.
Drawing herself up to her full height, Kaesa stepped forward and spoke loudly and clearly.
"I do, Prefectus."
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They'd flogged people to death before in the forums. Ronicus knew that much.
Public executions were a way of life in Rome. It provided gossip, entertainment for those who couldn't get into the Colosseum, and a fearsome example for the lawbreakers of the city.
Two weeks ago, a pair of vicious dogs had mauled a slave chained to a column much like Ronicus was now. The slave's master had accused him of thievery – his wife's valuable pearl earrings had gone missing, only to be discovered beneath the slave's sleeping pallet. There were other ways the gems could have gotten to where they were found, the work of the family cat perhaps, but it was the word of the master over the slave.
Yet it was the execution from one moon ago that made Ronicus ill, considering his own circumstances. Bruttius Flaccus, a promising prospective gladiator, was from the same training school as Ronicus. This crime was much more serious than simple theft – Bruttius was the accomplice of Bonita Petra Murusia, a former Vestal Virgin, who was sworn to chastity until her thirty years of service at the Temple of Vesta were over.
Evidently, Bonita couldn't wait that long. And it was no less a person than the Pontifex, one of Rome's Head Priests, who had caught them together.
Stephanus Barrius Scipio, Pontifex, was forced to report the indiscretion to the Emperor, who as Pontifex Maximus was Barrius' superior in the religious hierarchy. As Pontifex Maximus, the Emperor had immediately decreed the traditional death penalty for Bruttius and the disgraced Bonita.
They forced Bonita to watch as Bruttius was whipped to death at the Forum Boarium. There was screaming and begging for mercy from both the girl and the young man. Their pleas fell on deaf ears; over the last thousand years, over twenty-two guilty Vestals and their accomplices had perished for their actions. Stephanus Barrius could not allow an exception, not when the Emperor himself had given the order.
Ronicus had come across the execution by chance while it was being carried out. He'd watch, only mildly interested, until it registered just who was howling in pain under the lash, and what for. Then he'd fled, back to the school, where he vomited into the pig stall. The pigs glared at him, but Ronicus was too shocked to care. It was a little later that he began to ask of the fate of the Vestal and found out what happened to her. What he heard merited another trip to the pig stall.
And life went on as usual. The names of Bruttius and Bonita faded from the tongues and thoughts of the populace. At the Temple of Vesta, Bonita had even undergone a form of damnatio memoriae; her name was not spoken, her belongings had apparently been destroyed, and her birth family denied her existence. To deny Bonita's memory was an act which her birth sisters Constantia and Longinia had no trouble with, as they had done so ever since Bonita was taken from their father's house when chosen to become a Vestal at nine summers old.
But Ronicus did not forget. He couldn't. Bruttius and Ronicus had not been friends, but the bigger boy was amiable enough, if slow-witted. Ronicus knew Bonita's face, as the girl who would sometimes come to the gates at night for Bruttius, if Bruttius didn't leave to go to her first. Unpleasant she might have been to Ronicus, but Ronicus was sure not even Bonita deserved such a savage sentence for her misdeeds.
And now Ronicus was to suffer the same fate as Bruttius. Unlike Bruttius, Ronicus was innocent of all the charges laid against him. It was as if the case of the thieving slave and Bruttius were combined and thrust upon Ronicus. No one would take the word of a boy who was little better than a slave over the Prefectus Urbanus, who had brought the case against Ronicus.
The flagellant had raised his instrument, cocked his wrist, ready to strike. Ronicus closed his eyes and prayed for a quick death.
"HOLD!"
It wasn't easy, but Ronicus could turn his head just enough to see who had taken a stand for him. He couldn't understand why, though – wait. That was Dolorrex!
Ronicus was a student at the gladiator school run by Dolorrex's brother, Pollex Chalybis. Both were famous, former gladiators who had dispatched their opponents with terrifying ease while working in tandem. There had been times when they were forced to fight each other, but always the enthralled Romans had, in the end, shouted for the fallen one to live and the Emperor, final judge of these matters, always concurred. They were much better and more entertaining as a team than alone.
Until one day, when a terrified adversary had pulled out a knife as Dolorrex was bearing down on him for the kill. The man made a desperate, wild stab upwards...
He died anyway, as did any chance of Dolorrex's future offspring entering the world.
Such a public humiliation had led to the retirement of both brothers. Pollex Chalybis opened his training stable, and Dolorrex would visit on occasion to fight and critique the would-be gladiators. He remained as large as ever, and it was only a few who could work up the courage to cross swords with him. Ronicus idolized both men, and hoped for a day where he might achieve as great a success. Dolorrex caught Ronicus' eye and winked even as he turned to the person just beside and behind him.
Ronicus had not known where Dolorrex spent his time outside the training school until now. What was he doing here in the forum, and his garb – was he guarding someone? There was a flash of white linen – that must be a girl with him. Huh. It seemed odd for a former gladiator to enter service as a mere escort and guard, unless the girl there was Caesar's own daughter—
Then she stepped out, a fine wool veil barely hiding her red hair. Green eyes like the Mare Mediterraneus. Her stola, a length of patterned blue and green Oriental silk, was draped over her white linen tunic, while something small and golden glinted in her hand.
And Ronicus could barely think or see beyond her, other than that not even the Naiads themselves were as beautiful.
Then that short, ugly man, the prefect, promptly broke into his thoughts by beginning to laugh. "You? Oh, but this is amusing! On what grounds, woman, do you say I have no right to punish this boy for his crimes?"
Ronicus burst out, his partially muffled voice shouting, "I've done nothing! You're the one who's the criminal, Jacobus Querceus!"
"Silence!" the little man screamed at the chained figure, waving the papyrus roll at him. "You'll pay your penance! And you, woman, I ask again – what power do you have to overturn this one's sentence?"
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"I am Kaesa Antonia Postumia, Virgo Vestalis." The watching masses began to murmur and whisper at her pronouncement, and the prefect Jacobus Querceus' triumphant expression faded slightly. Supported by this reaction, Kaesa raised her voice. "Furthermore, a Vestal is sacrosanct. Any condemned who encounter a Vestal are granted an immediate pardon and released. So say the laws and traditions of the Senate and the people of Rome. You are overruled, prefect. Release your prisoner!"
The prefect's look of triumph was by now gone completely, replaced by fury.
"He must be punished!" Querceus shrieked, stamping his feet and for all the world acting as a tempermental child, not noticing as Dolorrex took the papyrus from his stubby fingers or that the flagellant had already moved to unlock the chains binding Ronicus to the post. "He robbed the daughter of Lucius Flavius of her virtue in the night! Her father has demanded satisfaction! And you, you say I'm to simply release him?"
"I don't even know Lucius Flavius, OR his daughters!" the boy at the column yelled, inadvertently shouting into the flagellant's ear.
"I told you to be SILENT! I saw you with her, and I will see you dead for it! And YOU, flagellant, I gave no order for his release! Re-chain him!"
The flagellant did not pause in the middle of freeing Ronicus' wrists.
"Flagellant, did you not hear me!"
Ronicus spoke up. "I think I deafened him, yelling right in his ear and all."
Kaesa Postumia, in the interim, had opened and was reading the papyrus Dolorrex had retrieved from the prefect. An idea came to her, it was risky, but it might work. She whispered in Dolorrex's ear.
Interrupting the increasingly childish and juvenile war of words between the prefect and the prisoner, Dolorrex bellowed,
"Prefectus, when did the assault occur?"
The little man stopped trying to take the whip from the flagellant to answer. "On the Mercuralia, two and ten days ago."
"And which daughter of Lucius Flavius is no longer inviolate?"
There was a pause. "Tarpeia Flavia Regulia. What of it?" the man snarled at last.
Kaesa Postumia stepped forward. "I knew Tarpeia Flavia Regulia. She has been dead this last fortnight. One of us here is a liar, prefectus. You, or me."
The masses began to whisper, which broke the prefect's resolve.
"She would always look at him, always!" The prefect shouted in rage. "I had offered for her hand, if she was to have been anyone's, she would have been mine! But she refused me! She rejected me, because her affections were on that son of a sow!" Here Querceus pointed at a very surprised Ronicus.
"She did?" Ronicus said in surprise. "That's news to me. I never noticed."
"It is because you never noticed her she died, you buffoon!" Querceus screamed. "You never saw how she looked at you, but I did! I did, and it would kill me! Every look she gave you sickened me, and I saw every glance, and you never – you never—"
As the prefect continued to shriek his way into apoplexy, Kaesa raised an eyebrow and turned to Dolorrex. "You knew about this, didn't you? You knew about this, and you deliberately brought me here, because I would be able to free him. The debate was a bonus."
Dolorrex glanced sidelong at Kaesa. "I am indebted to you, am I not?"
"Indeed. Shall we go now?"
Dolorrex nodded. "Let us take Ronicus back to my brother's house first."
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Rome, Imperial Residence, Palatine Hill
Mad laughter echoed from the Emperor's chambers. "My armies in Britannica are victorious! Londonium has been retaken!"
"But my Lord Caesar, we still encounter resistance. The Gauls refuse to acknowledge us as the victors. Just before the messenger left, the barbarians burned down three of our ships, and all of the surrounding farmlands. They burned half the town while they were at it, true, but the fact remains that it is a severe blow to the Roman morale."
"What does it matter, so long as Boudicca has not been reborn and the lands still belong to us!"
"If Caesar says so," the general said, suppressing a shudder at the name of Boudicca. Though it had been over 100 years since the Celtic queen had staged her infamous uprising against Roman rule and razed Londonium to the ground, the fear that a similar leader would follow in her stead remained constant in the hearts of any Roman sent to Britannica. The general was no exception.
The general's emperor was indignant. "If I say so? I do say so!"
"Yes, Caesar."
Decius Julius Caesar, Emperor of Rome and alias Dracus Maximus, grinned smugly and sat back on his throne. Oblivious to him, his general sighed in quiet frustration and glanced beseechingly at the gilded chair beside the Emperor, on which sat the Emperor's long-suffering wife.
Examining her nails and wondering yet again why in Juno's name she had agreed to marry the man, Furia Augusta Gordia Femina rolled her eyes. Pale complexioned, with a rare but striking combination of black hair and green eyes, it was often said Caesar's wife was surely the most beautiful mortal woman in the Empire. Granted, such had been said for nearly all the Empresses who were her predecessors, but in the case of Augusta Gordia Femina, the oft-used compliment could very well be true.
"Perhaps this could be discussed at a later time, general," she said pointedly. The military man got the hint and took a respectful leave of the imperial couple. The real power in the Roman Empire sat not in Caesar's chair, but in that beside it. Everyone knew that. Everyone, it seemed, but Caesar himself, and Augusta Gordia Femina was perfectly content to have the situation remain as it was.
"Next!" Dracus Maximus said pompously.
"Imperator! Imperator! CAESAR!" Dracus Maximus and Gordia Femina looked on in mild interest as a little man wearing the toga of a prefectus urbanus came rushing into the room.
"Caesar!" the prefect exclaimed. "She has done it again! She undermines your authority still, even after the Senate made its request! She defies the Senate, and she defies your people, your Empire!"
"You mean Boudicca has been reborn?" Dracus Maximus exclaimed in horror, jumping to his feet. Gordia Femina quashed the urge to groan.
"The Vestal, Lord Caesar," the prefect nearly wailed. "Kaesa Antonia Postumia! She is notorious for this injustice. Her rank allows any criminal or prisoner she comes across to be pardoned and released!"
"What's wrong with that?" Dracus Maximus asked. "It's not as if she'd go walking around the forums all day freeing everyone!" He laughed at his own joke, before realising nobody was laughing with him. "What – you mean – she'd really do that?"
"Yes, Caesar. This Vestal would go for walks every day in the Forum Romanus – and half the criminals of Rome would go free. The Senate requested she stop; she had, and now after this they're bound to be outraged! The executioners were complaining they weren't getting enough criminals to execute! The people's safety is at risk, Caesar, and you are the people!"
Dracus Maximus wasn't really listening. "Vestal, Vestal... Wasn't there a Vestal Virgin who was executed a moon or so ago?" he asked Gordia Femina.
"Yes, she was caught breaking her vow of chastity," Gordia Femina said, bored. "We were at her entombing, remember?"
"Ahhh, that brunet girl and that big Flavian goon?" Dracus smirked. "Haven't seen sport like that for quite some time... Maybe we should reopen the Colosseum, get some games started, Jupiter only knows I'm bored just sitting here listening to people whining..."
"Caesar?" the annoying prefect asked. "Caesar!"
"Hmmm, what?"
"Caesar, what are you going to do about that impudent Vestal?" the little man pressed.
Dracus Maximus frowned at the pompous man. "Oh, it's you. What's your name again?"
The prefectus urbanus looked torn between annoyed and flattered. The latter won out. "I am Jacobus Querceus, Caesar, city prefect and your most loyal—"
"Make a note," Dracus Maximus said loudly over the prefect, and across on the other side of Caesar's throne, a scribe began to write hurriedly, "that, ah, this man was taken to the dungeons on this day, for the crime of public nuisance!"
"But, but—!" Jacobus Querceus was sputtering in indignation. "Caesar, how can my actions be public?"
"You said yourself, Caesar is the people, and since you're annoying me, you are also annoying the people," Dracus Maximus sniffed.
"Such irrefutable logic," Gordia Femina muttered under her breath.
"Probably annoyed all those market people at the forum too," Dracus went on. "No wonder that Vestal went and stepped in, good for her. Guards, take this man away, and tell that monkey man—"
"Does Caesar mean Manius Simius Orientus of the Senate?" the scribe asked with a quizzical brow.
"Yes, the monkey man, tell him to get some other citizen to be a prefectus urbanus!"
Jacobus Querceus shrieked and whinged as he was carted off by a pair of boorish guards. On his throne, Dracus Maximus grinned broadly.
"I do like this!" he said to no one in particular. "It's good to be Caesar."
And on either side of the Emperor, his wife and scribe exchanged long, exasperated glances. Some might say this really couldn't go on, but it would...
At least, as long as Gordia Femina allowed it.
To be Continued...
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Though the names of some characters are obvious links to their modern counterparts, others are more obscure. Below are the Latinised (Roman) KP characters, with their 21st century descendants in brackets.
In Order of Appearance/Mention:
Kaesa Antonia Postumia, virgo vestalis (Kimberly Ann Possible)
Dolorrex (Pain King)
Ronicus (Ron Stoppable)
Bruttius Flaccus (Brick Flagg)
Bonita Petra Murusia, prior virgo vestalis (Bonnie Rockwaller)
Stephanus Barrius Scipio, Pontifex, High Priest of Rome (Mr. Steve Barkin)
Pollex Chalybis (Steel Toe)
Jacobus Querceus, prefectus urbanus (Jackie Oaks)
Tarpeia Flavia Regulia (Tara King)
Emperor Decius Julius Caesar, alias Dracus Maximus (Dr. Drakken)
Empress Augusta Gordia Femina, Caesar's wife (Shego)
Senator Manius Simius Orientus, 'the monkey man' (Lord Monty Fiske/Monkey Fist)