Read SPQR III: the sacrilege for Free Online

was Caecilius Metellus. Not that anyone ever accused me of being a man who lazed through office on his family name. No amiable political hack ever weathered as many murder attempts as I did. A man's seriousness as a public official can usually be gauged by the number and homicidal habits of his enemies.
    I reached the house of Capito just as his morning callers were leaving and he himself was on his way to an annual sacrifice given by the Aemilii in memory of some victory or other. I knew him only slightly, but he greeted me hospitably and professed himself glad to see me again. I hinted at political business and he invited me to dinner at his house that evening.
    Things were shaping up well, and now I had the rest of the day to myself. It was a short walk to the Forum, where I wandered about, soaking up sun and the attentions of a good number of publicani . Most of these were builders, but one intriguing fellow had a novel item to sell: a new design of shields for the legions.
    "It's much better than the old scutum ," he explained earnestly. "Just as thick and protective, but cut off straight at the top and bottom."
    "It's hard to get soldiers to accept something new," I said. "What's the advantage?"
    "We've given quite a few to the ludi in Campania, and the gladiators there say it's a much better fighting design than the old oval style. It's lighter and gives better vision."
    "Gladiators don't worry much about arrows and javelins," I said doubtfully. "There's more to warfare than single combat, you know."
    "Nonsense, sir," he protested. "A man fighting will always hold his shield just below eye level. With the new design, even less of the soldier's body is exposed."
    "But if you give a shield a flat bottom," I pointed out, "the soldiers on guard will rest them on the ground and lean on them and go to sleep. Every officer knows that."
    He sighed with exasperation. "But that's why centurions have vinestocks to beat their soldiers with. And what legion ever needs more than one exemplary beheading a year for sleeping when the enemy is near? That's all it takes to keep the lads alert. Now, sir, if you'll put in a good word with your father the Censor, I am prepared to offer the state a very reasonable rate. My shops can outfit a full legion every year, complete with a cheaper version for the auxiliaries."
    "I'll speak to him," I said, "but I don't think you'll have much luck. He still thinks the Marian reforms are an outrage. How much per shield?"
    "Fifty-five denarii for the legionary model, thirty for the auxiliary."
    "That seems steep," I said.
    "We're not talking about shoddy materials here, sir. We are talking about first-rate plywood made of seasoned limewood strips and Egyptian glue, backed with the finest felt and faced with rawhide; and on top of that, seasoned bullhide bleached almost white so as to take whatever dye or paint the legion wants to add. Ironmongery of the finest workmanship, sir: boss, rivets and grips and a complete bronze rim. Now tell me that's not worth fifty-five denarii."
    "I won't argue the details of your trade," I said. "How does the auxiliary version differ?"
    "Identical except the cover is plain brown cowhide and the rim is stitched rawhide instead of bronze. Just between you and me, it's as good a shield, but we both know that the legions will revolt if they see the auxiliaries getting gear as pretty as the legions have."
    "That is true," I agreed.
    "I'll tell you what: I'll drop the price twenty denarii if they offer the old shields in trade. I can sell those to the Egyptians. But I want the right to refuse any that are too cut up for resale."
    I promised to do what I could, and he let me know that he would be not only grateful but generous. As it turned out, the legions tried out the new design and liked it, but they didn't buy new shields. They just cut the tops and bottoms off the old ones. There were few fools among the military purchasing officers.
    After this encounter I went to a stall