Scene 1.1.4
Caius Marcius
“Hail, Noble Marcius!” Menenius had seen
the arrival of the other, and yet he timed his speech to temper the mood of the
people. He knew well of Caius Marcius, the Hero of Rome. He stood tall at over
six feet with the wide shoulders that he carried the pride of Rome. His face
was clean shaven to his scalp, while the frame of his body was all muscles and
in his struts, he showed confidence. He was the Noble man then with the ranks
in the military; he was the true military man among the Noble. Caius fought for Rome as if it was his own family that he
protected. He had never shrink from any battles, and fought alongside the
others as equal in ferocity and dedication but he had one inherent weakness. He
commands his officers and men alike as if he was the Noble and they his
Commoner. He withheld no words from his vocal; harsh to the ears, but he exerts
authority over their anger. They fought for him back to back for he was not one
to stay behind the shelter giving command. Caius Marcius was one of the most
decorated military officers, and he was due for the position of the Consul. He
had foretold that if Rome was ever threatened, he would fight for Rome.
That day, he had joined Menenius on the
walks on the streets of Rome but was diverted to look at some gifts for his
mother and wife. They were dressed in the simple frock design with the plain
yellow shades favored by the Noble on
the hot summer day. Unlike the Commoner, they were dressed in the darker shades
that favored less obvious signs of stains and could be worn over a long period
before it’s changed for a fresh coat. Both Noble
have grown accustomed to the foul scent of the Commoners that they felt no need
for the air filter masks favored by the socialites.
On that dry summer day, despite the
pleasant weather, it was an unusual scene on the streets with the hurrying of
feet while peddlers market their products with haste for the words of the war
with Volsces. Menenius had heard of the dissent among his voters and reckoned
that a hero next to him would win over their confidence in him. He had then brought
the so named hero to walk with him. In true it was a good move, but in fate it
was to begin his downfall.
“What the matter, you dissentious
rogues? You called on the itch of your opinion like scabs.” Marcius being
himself held no words back with his opening lines when he saw the assembled
Commoners moaning on some petty issues as usual. It was not the first he had
seen, and would not be the last of it. He disliked such dissent more so when he
and his men had done more to keep the peace for them. In the military, he would
have these fools flogged on their bare back and then left to sun for a day.
“We have ever your good word.” The nurse
saw the Noble and was excited that she had found a new adversary to focus on;
one that beheld the quality of his birthright in his tone.
“He that will give good words to you
will flatter beneath abhorring.” Marcius showed his contempt on the expression
of his scarred face. “What would you have, you curs?”
The last word uttered stirred up some
emotions and the old charmer stepped in to quell any violence.
“Peace,” Marcius looked to the nurse.
“Or war? That one affrights you, the other makes you proud.”
“He that trusts you,” Marcius turned his
look to the assembled. He sees not the elected Consuls from the Commoners. They
should have been there to lead these fools yet those fools had seen better to
quiver behind the walls. “Where he should find you lions, find you hares; where
foxes and geeses: you are no surer, no. Then is the coal of fire upon ice, or
hailstones in the sun. Your virtue is to make him….”
“Worthy,” Marcius glared back at the
nurse. “Whose offence subdues him, and the curse that justice did it. Who
deserves greatness deserves your hate. Your affection is a sick man’s appetite
who desires most that which would increase his evil.”
Marcius addressed the nurse as if she
was his officer; held in contempt for him yet served him with him in
dedication. He recognized not her for there were many nurses and doctors in his
many stays with them.
“He that depends upon your favors swims
with fins of lead and hews down oaks with rushes.” Marcius hissed those words
to the nurse. “Hang you! Trust you! With every minute you change a mind, and
call him noble that was now your hate.”
“You cry against the Noble Consul,” Marcius picked his
reference well. “What you’re seeking of them?”
“For wheat at their rates for they
claimed we have hoarded it in the stores.” Menenius rushed to lay his claim. He
sensed the assembled having mixed views then. He was glad he brought in Marcius;
his protégé as claimed by himself. A hero of the war would be a hero of the
Senate House when well suited to the conditions set by him.
As stated, Menenius had a bleak day
unforeseen by him.
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