As I continued to watch, enveloped in a sense of amazement at the sight before me, I heard the voice of the heralds. They were traveling through the crowds reminding all on-lookers that the celebration would not end at the conclusion of the ‘triumph,’ but that the Caesar expected all the citizens of Rome to carry the festivities into the night, with joyous feasting. The heralds walked the crowds, speaking of the great exploits of the soldiers, of their service to Rome, and of their felicity to that which was symbolized by the eagle emblazoned upon their banners, saying ‘Open your homes to the fighting men of Rome! Invite them to your banquets! Let them eat their fill! In service to Rome, they have taken their lives in their hands to conquer generals and all manner of powerful people! They faced down charging horses so that all, free men and slaves, might continue to enjoy the benefits of all that Rome has to offer! You owe them your hospitality and your very lives! Honor them!’ I certainly hoped that I would have the honor of hosting one of these brave warriors.
Behind the triumphator and his army came those that he had conquered. Foolishly, they had attempted to do battle with Rome’s greatest general. Not unexpectedly, they had failed; and now, they were going to suffer the end of all that attempted to stand against the glorious Roman empire, its Caesar, and its legions. I saw the king of the conquered peoples. I saw the greatest of his generals. Poor fools. They did not realize the futility in which they were engaged. They did not realize that their doom had been sealed when Caesar sent out his armies under the command of this particular triumphator. Examples were going to be made of these men, and that example was going to be published far and wide, as a warning against those that might attempt the same. The king and his generals, so used to riding at the front of their army in all of their regal splendor, had been forced to come last in the procession, stripped of all semblances of power, and bearing the scorn and insults of the crowd. Shame was heaped upon shame.
The procession had wound through the city. The crowds had cheered the triumphator and his army, while mocking the defeated foes. Finally, they reached Capitoline hill. It is here that the exalted general and his armies would pay homage to the one from whom they received the power to conquer, and where those conquered would face the image of mighty Jupiter, realizing that the great god of Rome had overcome their pithy deities. The defeated army was forced to part, to give way to their king and to his bedraggled generals. They were marched through the midst of their men, bound in heavy chains. Then, they were forced to trudge through the midst of the army that had broken the spirits of their fighting men and hastened their demise. Finally, they were presented to the triumphator, who dragged them, by their chains, up the steps of Jupiter’s temple, where he would force them to participate in a sacrifice in honor of Rome’s supreme deity, before employing them as gruesome examples of the eternal might of Rome.
It was reported, quite comically I might add, that the king had attempted to infiltrate the ranks of Rome’s army, promising some of Rome’s soldiers all of the splendor and treasures that his kingdom had to offer, if only they would turn their backs on Rome, leave their posts, fight for him, and encourage others to do the same. Comical, for what king could offer something that glorious Rome could not provide? Surprisingly and tragically, some had been won over to his side. Traitors! They too had been identified and captured. Infamy would come upon them and their fates would not be dissimilar to the one that wooed them. I’m sure they wished that they had not joined his side. They had renounced the marks that had been placed on their bodies, identifying them as members of the Roman legion. As part of their disavowal of Rome, they had scraped those various marks from off of their skin. This new mark, they were told, the one that showed that they had left the side of Rome, would cause them to be honored by their new people and their gods. They had genuflected before gods that were doomed to fall. They had even consented to worshiping that king as if he was a god in the mold of blessed Caesar. How absurd. Now, that same mark, an anti-mark really, was one of ignominy. It branded them as traitorous rebels. Many have attempted to mount campaigns of propaganda against Rome, against its emperor, and against its gods. All had failed. All will fail! Futility indeed.
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