THE

  PILLARS

  OF

  ROME

  By David Donachie

  THE JOHN PEARCE ADVENTURES

  By the Mast Divided • A Shot Rolling Ship

  An Awkward Commission • A Flag of Truce

  The Admirals’ Game • An Ill Wind

  Blown Off Course • Enemies at Every Turn

  A Sea of Troubles • A Divided Command

  The Devil to Pay • The Perils of Command

  A Treacherous Coast • On a Particular Service

  A Close Run Thing • HMS Hazard • A Troubled Course

  THE CONTRABAND SHORE SERIES

  The Contraband Shore • A Lawless Place • Blood Will Out

  THE NELSON AND EMMA SERIES

  On a Making Tide • Tested by Fate • Breaking the Line

  THE PRIVATEERSMEN SERIES

  The Devil’s Own Luck • The Dying Trade • A Hanging Matter

  An Element of Chance • The Scent of Betrayal • A Game of Bones

  HISTORICAL THRILLERS

  Every Second Counts

  Originally written as Jack Ludlow

  THE LAST ROMAN SERIES

  Vengeance • Honour • Triumph

  THE REPUBLIC SERIES

  The Pillars of Rome • The Sword of Revenge • The Gods of War

  THE CONQUEST SERIES

  Mercenaries • Warriors • Conquest

  THE ROADS TO WAR SERIES

  The Burning Sky • A Broken Land • A Bitter Field

  THE CRUSADES SERIES

  Son of Blood • Soldier of Crusade • Prince of Legend

  * * *

  Hawkwood

  A ROMAN REPUBLIC NOVEL

  THE

  PILLARS

  OF

  ROME

  DAVID DONACHIE

  Essex, Connecticut

  An imprint of Globe Pequot, the trade division of The Rowman & Littlefield Publishing Group, Inc.

  4501 Forbes Blvd., Ste. 200

  Lanham, MD 20706

  www.rowman.com

  Distributed by NATIONAL BOOK NETWORK

  Copyright © 2007 by David Donachie writing as Jack Ludlow

  First published in Great Britain by Allison & Busby in 2007

  First McBooks Press edition 2023

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote passages in a review.

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Information available

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  ISBN 978-1-4930-7395-5 (paper)

  ISBN 978-1-4930-7396-2 (ebook)

  The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of American National Standard for Information Sciences—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992.

  DAVID DONACHIE was born in Edinburgh in 1944. He has always had an abiding interest in British naval history of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, as well as in military history, including ancient Rome, the Middle Ages, and the clandestine services during the Second World War. He has more than fifty published novels to his credit with over a million copies sold. David lives in Deal, the historic English seaport on the border of the English Channel and the North Sea.

  To Nick Webb,

  A star!

  Contents

  Cover

  Half Title

  Title

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Contents

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  EPILOGUE

  Guide

  Cover

  Half Title

  Title

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Contents

  Start of Content

  EPILOGUE

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  PROLOGUE

  It was a prank, one of those pieces of devilry which Lucius Falerius treasured; one his best friend Aulus Cornelius feared because of his more potent respect for the power of the gods. How could two twelve-year-olds know that what they would experience on this night would have a bearing on the rest of their lives?

  Both were dressed in manly gowns, appropriated so they could visit a famous Sybil, an oracle who inhabited a cave in the Alban Hills close to Rome, a privilege forbidden to mere boys. The lifting of those garments had shown that for all his strength and prowess at games, Aulus could easily be bested where deception was required. In his father’s country villa, dealing with his own family slaves, his way would have been to rush in, grab what he wanted, and flee. Lucius, a guest, swept in with a proprietary air and emerged with the garments neatly folded over his forearm, seemingly unconcerned about the whipping both they and the slaves would receive if the boys were caught. Clothes formed only part of the disguise and in this Lucius could again best his friend. Aulus had the nose of his race, prominent and straight, full cheeks and the makings of a noble forehead, but he struggled to get his thick, black hair into anything resembling an adult style. Somehow Lucius, smaller, with features softer in every respect, managed to look older merely by the superior way in which he held himself.

  It was daunting, entering that poorly lit cave; penetrating cold, the swish of bats wheeling about their heads, dripping water the only sound to disturb the silence. Under a guttering oil lamp coins were handed over to a veiled acolyte, supposedly an offering to the power of the Sybil, though Lucius, in his customary irreverent manner, whispered it was more like a bribe. Aulus could not look at his friend then, nor could he say anything; his heart was pounding so much he felt sure it must be visible, like the sweat he could feel just below his hairline. Lucius would not sweat, and he could speak without even a trace of a tremor in his voice.

  They were shown into a chamber hacked out of the rock, lit by flickering torches, a place reeking of bat droppings as well as human and animal waste, that mingled with a heady smell of incense. The detritus of dead creatures littered the space between them and the Sybil, sat on a high stone pedestal, staring straight ahead with what seemed like sightless eyes. Neither youngster was willing to examine the bleached bones at their feet to see from what source they came, but the impression, very firmly imparted, told them that to trifle with the gods was to end up like these, mere skeletons lying at the feet of the oracle. In a voice much deeper than his natural tone, Lucius calmly asked for a prediction of their future.

  The answer was a hiss from the Sybil, an aged crone with a face more deeply lined than the bark of an ancient olive tree. Staring straight ahead, she demanded their own names as well as those of their ancestors. Both boys, well versed in the histories of their respective families, named noble progenitors who had helped not only to found the Roman Republic, but had acted to make her the greatest power in the known world. What followed was a silence that seemed to last for a half-glass of sand, one that deepened the air of mystery.

  ‘You are but youths,’ the Sybil finally wheezed, running her uncut, ragged-edged fingernails through matted grey hair. ‘It is for men to plead the oracle, not boys.’

  ‘We have made an offering,’ Lucius replied. ‘If it is forbidden for boys to plead, why was that not rejected?’

  ‘You will be the Falerii.’

  ‘I am,’ Lucius replied, his voice almost defiant.

  ‘You think beyond your years. The Cornelii is pious, you are not.’

  ‘Should we fear you?’ Lucius demanded.

  Aulus sucked in his breath and his whole frame shook. Lucius might not suppose that this priestess could strike them dead on the spot, but he did; the bones that littered the space between them made him believe that others had suffered such a fate.

  ‘You should fear what I may say, Falerii.’

  ‘If you, Sybil; can see my future, then it is already decided. What need then have I to fear it?’

 

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