Quintus Horatius Saturninus, Consul of Rome
Curia Romanum, Rome
Monday 10th December 2018, 1900hrs Local Time
Quintus Horatius Saturninus paced across the wide open floor of his office within the Curia Romanum, the building that had been built to replace the old Curia Julia, in the classical Roman style, and was home to not only the Senate, and officers for the Senators, but the offices and support staff for the two Consuls of Rome, of which Horatius Saturninus was one. From his window he could see, in daytime anyway, the majesty of the Forum Romanum, with the various Basilicas housing magisterial departments, the Temples dedicated to various Gods in the Roman Pantheon, and other majestic, important buildings that housed the beating heart of the Roman State, the most prominent of which was, of course, the Curia Romanum. It was no coincidence that all major state activities, domestic and foreign, were conducted here, in the very heart of the Eternal City. Despite the auspicious surroundings, and the comforting view of Rome’s lights twinkling in the darkness outside his window, his mind was ill at ease. The Senate, after breaking for the weekend, had resumed its now two-month old debate on Discharge Grants for Legion Veterans, and as pretty much everyone had expected was still getting absolutely nowhere.
The issue at hand was simple enough; upon the end of a full ‘career’ in Roman Army, either the Legions or the Auxiliary Forces, the retiring soldier, as a reward for his more arduous lifestyle compared to the Navy or the Volantes (Air Force), got a choice between a land grant or a discharge bonus (praemia), whereas the Navy and Volantes veterans could only choose the discharge bonus. Whilst many veterans choose the bonus, which had been re-instituted after the great Roman (re)conquest of Spain had ended, many more had chosen the land grant as part of the steady policy of Romanisation that had always been part and partial of Rome’s conquests; by installing their own citizens, and military veterans at that, into conquered territories it not only decreased the risk of revolt but aided in the expansion of Roman culture and values. That had all been well and gone when were had been vast swathes of public land in Hispania and southern Gaul, however over recent years the amount of public land had decreased steadily, between the vast estates favoured by the Senatorial order and the smallholdings granted to the veteran there wasn’t much left. This posed a problem, for many retiring veterans still preferred the land grant over the discharge bonus.
There had been some thought given, initially, to doing away with the land grant entirely, even if it meant increasing the discharge bonus to compensate. The Comitia Civis, Rome’s principle representative body for its citizens (having replaced the other Assembly, save for the Plebeian Council which represented all commoners, citizen and non citizen alike), had reluctantly agreed to such a compromise; after all the average discharge bonus for even a legionary still amounted to 2,250 denarius (equal to ten years wages, or over two hundred thousand standard dollars,) more than enough to buy, outright, at least a small flat or home in Italia. Veterans that accepted the discharge bonus might not have land to their name, but they would have a roof above their head that belonged to them they they did not have to rent, in Italia no less, and for some this was enough. Sure, many still favoured the land grant, even in foreign lands, as land was the path to true prosperity in the Republic, one way or another, even if it was in far off lands in the provinces. However, when the Praetor Pecunia, the executive magistrate responsible for finance and commerce, had prepared a report for the Senate on just how much it would cost to give every retiring soldier the discharge bonus, it had quickly become obvious that it was not a viable option, certainly not if there was to be an increase.
This had left the Senate, and the People of Rome, back at square one when it came to solving this conundrum. Really it was something that they should have seen coming, after all the public land had always been a finite resource and there was no excuse for a collective failure to face the issue until it had become an issue. Sure, more and more veterans had been taking the bonus, after all in the modern age far more people were concerned about stability than about social advancement, but that had only slowed the problem, not removed it.
Of course the next potential solution, which had formed the current rift between the Senate and and the Comitia Civis, was one that Horatius Saturninus saw dangerous parallels with history. A Plebeian Tribune, the magistrates whose duty was to protect the interests of the plebs, had suggested that the wealthy land-owning class could exchange some of their land for patronage, not true rent but some form of tribute for giving up their land. Well, this had caused an uproar in the Senate. After all, the Senatorial Class were forbidden by law to take part in commerce or banking, in order to retain their ethical standing, and as such their wealth, which their very status in the Senatorial Class depended upon, was drawn from the rent paid by tenants, farmers and residents, on their land. If they gave up their land, for a pittance of their normal rent, then they would be at a significant disadvantage and risked losing their status. It was the age-old problem of land reform in the Roman Republic, and whilst the modern Republic was a true democracy, rather than a disguised oligarchy, the problem still remained. The issue of land reform had directly lead to the downfall of the Republic and Horatius Saturninus was determined to not see that repeated, not on his watch. He knew that those veterans that still sought land were prepared to go to the far reaches of the provinces to get it, but there simply wasn’t enough left.
The weary Consul stopped before the expansive world map that adorned one of the walls of his office and considered it. Rome’s territory spread throughout Italy, southern Gaul and into Hispania, with holdings on Cyprus and Malta, a few enclaves in North Africa, and several island colonies in the Caribbean. It was through these distant holdings that the Republic spread its trade and commerce that maintained its economic strength, guarded and protected by the Roman Military, but even the space in these holdings was running out as they had long ago been settled by Romans during their Romanisation process. What was needed was more land, but in many ways Rome had become complacent as their current holdings had satisfied them up until this point, but now the question truly had to be asked… did the old Roman pastime of conquest need to be revived. It was the only solution, really, Horatius Saturninus thought to himself as he looked at the map, so many areas unclaimed save by barbarians who had failed to form cohesive nation-states, or weak ones with very little integration into the global order. The kind of states that could be picked off by a larger, more powerful state, and were unlikely to result in confrontation with another state, not that Rome was averse to conflict, but conflict would put at risk the very purpose of the theoretical conquest.
The sparsely populated land along the northern border of South America were tempting, that would provide public land for generations, but taking that much land so quickly was a gamble. What Horatius Saturninus needed, if he was to get this mental exercise of his off the ground, was something smaller, easier… something he could use as a proof of concept. He knew that he was proposing the first major Roman Conquest in over a century, but he had the weight of history and precedent behind him, and it would, after all, solve all of their problems for the moment.
Horatius Saturninus had a military pedigree, he had attended the Roman Military Academy from the age of sixteen before being posted to the Thirteenth Legion as its senior Tribune, holding several such positions over the course of ten years before being successfully elected Quaestor in Rome. After his term of office had ended, and he had been appointed to the Senate in his own right, Horatius Saturninus had resumed his military career and had served as Legatus of the Tenth, and later the Seventh Legion. He had returned to Rome at the age of thirty-six when he became eligible for the next step on the Cursus Honorum (Course of Offices) and been elected Aedile, within the Basilica Militum as Aedile for Military Planning, before a final two-year stint as a Legion Commander before being elected Praetor, and being assigned by the Senate and People of Rome as the Praetor Militum, the executive magistrate in day-to-day command of Rome’s Military, being afar and away the best qualified and temperamentally suited of all the Praetors elected that year to be put in charge of the Roman Military. He knew what he would be getting Rome into, committing to a new campaign of conquests would likely put Rome at odds with its neighbours, and yet he would rather a foe from without than unrest within.
His musings were disturbed when he heard steps on the marble floor of the corridor outside his office and glanced away from the map in time to watch as Decimus Galerius Albinus, his co-Consul, enter his office. The two men clasped forearms before one of Horatius Saturninus’ servants entered the room with a decanter of wine, pouring two glasses for the Consuls before withdrawing.
“Are they still at it?” Horatius Saturninus asked quietly.
“Unfortunately so, my friend,” Galerius Albinus scowled, the two Consuls were lucky enough to be in the minority of Consular pairings who had been friends prior to being elected, so had enjoyed a good working relationship. “Celsus and his lot are up in arms now.”
“No doubt wanting to maintain their substantial holdings in central Italy, the size of some Senatorial estates in Italia cannot help but sometimes be seen to be pushing the limits of taste,” Horatius Saturninus commented wryly. “However, I think that I may have come up with a solution… we need land, so we need to go and get ourselves more land… we take what we need and grant land out there.”
“Just like back in the day,” Galerius Albinus nodded slowly. “The world has changed, Quintus.”
“Perhaps, that’s why I’m thinking somewhere that is non-aligned; the other powers might protest but I doubt they’ll try and stop us,” Horatius Saturninus replied firmly. “And if they do, well, we’d need to remind them that Rome is not to be interfered with, or opposed.”
“You have somewhere in mind, I suppose?”
“I do, I needed somewhere small and self-contained at first, a proof of concept if you like,” Horatius Saturninus nodded, glancing back at the map having just made up his mind. “So, my dear friend, Decimus, what do you know of the island of Madagascaria?”
Tribune (Senior Grade) Appius Fabius Catulus
Aden, The Marimaian Caliphate
Tuesday 11th December 2018
Appius Fabius Catulus was eternally grateful, as he sat in a private booth with a very attractive young Arabian woman, for the Marimaian Caliphate’s moderate brand of Islam, and in particular the port of Aden’s long experience dealing with sailors on shore leave. It would have been a piss-poor assignment otherwise. As it was he was able to still enjoy the nightlife, and enjoy the company of a, generally, very attractive race of women, despite being nearly three thousand miles away from home (and the buzzing nightlife of modern Rome). Of course it did not help that the Roman presence in Aden was something of a stand-out compared with the rest of the region, meaning that for some women (and, to be fair, some of the men when confronted with female sailors from the naval squadron based in the port), the allure of something unusual was very much present. The Standing Orders for both the Roman posts out here strictly expected all personnel to exercise appropriate cultural respect as, although the rest of the Marimaian Caliphate was known to be moderate, the Emirate of Adan were more traditional in their attitudes and no one wanted to offend the locals over excessive libido. The unspoken understanding, however, was that clubs were clubs and that what happened in them, or as a result of them, was accepted (or at least tolerated).
After all, and Rome had been very firm on the matter when briefing Fabius Catulus, the importance of respecting local customs and not causing an incident was of the highest importance. Not only was the friendship between Rome and Cairo of top importance, for strategic reasons, but the Roman military presence in and around Aden was essential for operational reasons. The naval squadron based out of Aden was tasked with protecting Roman merchant shipping in the Red Sea and the Indian Ocean, by no means a small responsibility. Moreover, Castrum Eudaemon (named for the original Greek name for the city) was a small but key forward base for the Roman Army. It was home to two principle units; the first was Cohors IV Praetoria, the 4th Cohort of the Praetorian Guard. The modern Praetorian Guard was Rome’s military intelligence branch, and whilst it may have lost some of its historic reputation for political involvement, and rightfully so, it’s reputation for efficiency and was widely respected, indeed the 1st Cohort (which was responsible for internal security) still retained some of the ‘fear’ aspect of the Guard’s historical reputation, albeit for their ruthlessness in chasing down threats to the Republic rather than for being a threat to the Republic.
The second unit was Fabius Catulus’; part of headquarters element for the 9th Legion. When this arrangement with the Caliphate had been made it had been deemed undesirable, from a optics perspective, to put an entire Roman Legion in a foreign country, however Rome had wanted to ensure that it could use Castrum Eudaemon as a jumping off point for operations East of Suez if the need arose, so a compromise had been reached. In addition to the Praetorian Cohort, which had always been part of the deal, Rome would also station a small legion headquarters in Aden, along with significant prepositioning supplies and assets on an airfield outside the city (which Rome had built and paid for). The idea being that the Deputy Legion Commander, and the Staff Tribunes for Operations and Intelligence, along with a small group of Auxiliary intelligence and operations specialists, would work alongside the Praetorians to prepare for the arrival of the full legion in the run up to to a campaign. This left the Legion Commander, who often had other duties in Rome, back home, along with the Staff Tribunes for Personnel and Logistics, and the Camp Prefect and the Legion First Spear, to take care of the legion and, if necessary, prepare it for deployment to Eudaemon.
Of course in reality, given that Rome had very little interests East of Suez at this point, it was a quiet posting for the 9th’s propositioning leadership element. Technically speaking the Deputy Legion Commander, in this case none other than one Appius Fabius Catulus, being a Senior Tribune, outranked the ‘Junior’ Tribune in command of the Praetorian Cohort, and as such was officially the Senior Officer of the Castrum. In reality, however, the Praetorian Tribune had risen through the ranks and was many years his elder, and as such Fabius Catulus had the sense to keep out of the way of the Praetorian commander except when necessary. As such Fabius Catulus’ days were mostly spent reviewing intelligence and preparedness reports and being responsible for awful lot of paperwork which, Fabius Catulus noted on numerous occasions everyday, his Praetorian subordinate was more than happy to allow him to take control over.
It was perhaps, therefore, not surprising that Fabius Catulus enjoyed a night out as much as the next Roman, after all his days were on the boring side of dull. Fortunately, the two staff tribunes were as bored as he was, and although they were not of the senatorial class like Fabius Catulus himself, they were at the least Equestrian, which meant that it was socially acceptable to socialise with them. They were also about the same age as he, Rome’s military tribunes were made up of the best and brightest minds taught strategy at the Roman Military Academy; what they lacked in experience they made up for in training and theory, and were more than adequately complemented by the vastly experienced Centurions, all of whom had come up from the ranks. Fabius Catulus was a bright young man, however for all his instructors at the Roman Military Academy had praised his instincts and his knack for strategy, they had despaired at his lack of drive and motivation. It was in no small part that they had arranged for him to receive this assignment; for although dull in peacetime if the balloon went up and the Legion had to deploy operationally it would be a change for the young Senior Tribune to proof himself under fire, and hopefully kick his ass into gear.
And, as it happened, Fabius Catulus’ war was on his way.
His attention was drawn away from the Arabian woman as he heard commotion, even against the background of the music, and looked up to see the crowds being parted by security making a direct line for him. He rose, assuming that someone had taken a disliking to the attention he, a Roman, was showing the young woman but was infinitely more surprised when he laid eyes upon a Praetorian Centurion, in full service dress uniform, complete with a pistol in a leather holster on his belt. It was obvious that the officer had wanted to avoid any delays, and figured that showing up in full uniform was the best way to get co-operation from the local bouncers (correctly, as it seemed). Fabius Catulus frowned as the Centurion stopped before him and saluted crisply, if the experienced officer had any disapproval of the younger Tribune he did not allow it to show on his expression.
“Tribune, I have orders from my command to effect you return to the Castrum as soon as possible, we’ve received a general signal from Rome” The Centurion explained, leaning closer to ensure that he was not overheard, given he had quite an audience. “I have been advised to tell you that this message was sent with the highest priority, and that your response is required as soon as possible.”
“Yes, of course, Centurion,” Fabius Catulus nodded, shaking his head to try to clear his mind of the intoxication, only partially successful of course but helped by the adrenaline now beginning to surge through his system. “Lead the way.”