"There are more guest complaints than I anticipated," Crassus said, looking down at the paper in his hand.
He was standing on the ground floor of an insula, its interior neatly swept and orderly.
At a reception desk to one side stood a slave, while other slaves bustled about carrying blankets, bedding, and small tables.
This was one of the inns he had recently opened as part of a new business venture.
Ever since Lucius had made Italy's roads safe by driving out the bandits, travelers had flooded the roads.
Countless citizens from the allied cities had been flocking to Rome since the Floralia, and the flow had continued through the Trojan Games.
Naturally, Crassus intended to win both their coin and their goodwill.
In place of the notoriously filthy and uncomfortable taverns and lodging houses already available, he offered clean, well-kept accommodations.
He even provided free lodging to those with voting rights or considerable influence in the allied cities.
"Conduct more guest surveys and send the results to me. I will review them personally."
"Understood, master."
The slave in charge of the insula bowed his head in reply.
Crassus hummed softly, tapping his fingers against his thigh.
Following Lucius's example was proving undeniably effective. Just as Lucius had surveyed the citizens' grievances before installing streetlights, Crassus systematically analyzed guest feedback and made steady improvements.
Until then, few had given such matters any serious thought.
"The Trojan Games must have concluded by now," he muttered.
To Crassus, it had seemed a foregone conclusion that the games would end in Lucius's victory.
All that training with young Metellus had surely been part of a setup to guarantee his own triumph.
As he stepped outside, a slave rushed up to him.
"Master, news from the Circus Maximus."
"Speak."
At his command, the slave bowed and continued.
"The Trojan Games have officially concluded."
"And the victor is Lucius, as expected. Am I right?"
"Yes, master. However, there is more to report."
Upon hearing the details, Crassus's eyes widened.
"A tie? And Lucius and Metellus fought a duel in the center of the Circus Maximus? Like a pair of common gladiators?" He let out a dry laugh. "And the games committee permitted that? No, he must have maneuvered them into a position where they had no choice."
Knowing Lucius, the boy had undoubtedly laid a meticulous plan.
From the tie to the dramatic duel between the commanders, every step must have been arranged from the very beginning.
Lucius Caesar was exactly that sort of frighteningly meticulous schemer.
"And there is one more thing, master," the slave continued. "The citizens are protesting, demanding to see the new game..."
Crassus stroked his chin. Perhaps the Trojan Games themselves were merely a diversion.
What if his true objective had been to goad the citizens into demanding the new game he had invented?
"He must have announced that there would be no gridiron match precisely to drive the crowd into this frenzy," Crassus muttered, looking in the direction of the Circus Maximus. There was only one possible explanation. "That boy planned this from the very start."
***
What on earth is happening? I stood frozen, completely speechless at the sight before me.
"Seriously, why is everyone acting like this?"
"I have no idea. But then again, this is your doing, Young Master. As always," Felix replied with a shrug.
I stared at the spectators, who were still packed tightly in the stands. The crowd, which had begun filing out after the official end of the games, had surged back into the stands.
Their collective roar reverberated like a war cry.
"We want the match!"
"We want the match!"
What was wrong with these people?
As the citizens chanted in unison, Felix spoke up.
"It seems they are desperate to see a gridiron match."
"But no gridiron match was scheduled for today's Trojan Games. I never planned to hold one."
I had never even presented the game to the public. How on earth did so many citizens know about it?
"Perhaps keeping it secret only made them want it more. They seem to have gotten the impression that this gridiron of yours is an exclusive game played only by the nobility."
"..."
Was this a repeat of what Father had done in Hispania?
Father had once made the soldiers crave Palmolive by restricting its use to the officers.
Outraged by the restriction, the common soldiers had protested, demanding that they be allowed to use Palmolive as well.
But I had never intended to create this kind of accidental reverse-psychology disaster.
The senators and the officials overseeing the games looked equally bewildered.
A perfectly natural reaction, given that a crowd of citizens was suddenly accusing them of hoarding a secret game.
Most of them probably had no clue what was even going on.
"Maybe if I went out there and explained it to them..."
But then, that probably wouldn't work. Anything I said now would only sound like a poor excuse.
"You shouldn't underestimate the resolve of the plebeians, Young Master. Didn't they once march to a mountain and go on strike when the patricians refused to listen to them?"
"Which forced the creation of the Tribune of the Plebs."
The famous Secession of the Plebs. Centuries ago, when the patricians ignored their demands, the Roman plebeians had gathered on the Sacred Mount, Mons Sacer, and refused to serve in the army.
Ultimately, the patricians had been forced to swallow their pride and offer a compromise.
"Once the crowd is in this mood, stopping them is impossible." Felix nodded. "Why not just give them what they want? Besides, both the Trojan and Greek sides seem quietly thrilled by the prospect."
"But for noblemen to play a rough game openly before such a massive crowd..."
I scanned the area. Fine. I could simply place the burden on the Senate. That way, I wouldn't have to take the heat myself.
As I stepped forward before the stands, all eyes turned to me.
"We want the match!"
"We want the match!"
The mood wasn't hostile. The voices of the citizens were a mix of excitement, passion, and playful mischief.
"Citizens of Rome! I hear you loud and clear!" I shouted, waving my hands. "However, no match of this kind was scheduled for today's Trojan Games! We cannot simply add a new contest without the approval of the officials presiding over the games!"
The surrounding citizens fell silent at my words. Soon after, a low murmur spread rapidly through the crowd.
"What is young Caesar saying?"
"Did you hear that?"
"He says it's impossible without the committee's permission."
I let out a sigh of relief as I watched them. Surely they would accept that and back down.
Right on cue, another roar erupted from the crowd. This time, the chant had changed.
"Approve the match!"
"Approve the match!"
Seriously, why were they going this far for this?
As the chanting persisted, several flustered officials presiding over the games stood up and shouted to the crowd.
"Today's Trojan Games have already concluded! However, we have no intention of stopping the young men if they wish to hold a match of their own accord!"
The arena erupted into ecstatic cheers. Once again, every eye turned to me.
What now? I had barely managed to pacify the rival factions supporting me and Metellus.
I couldn't let them start fighting each other over a football game. I needed a different excuse.
"I hesitated to show you this game because it can drive spectators to violence!" I cleared my throat and pressed on.
Rome had a long and storied history of what people would call sporting hooliganism.
It already existed to some extent in this era, and centuries later, in the Byzantine period, chariot-racing factions would help ignite a massive rebellion.
I desperately wanted to avoid a repeat of that history today.
"If everyone present swears before the gods not to riot, brawl, use violence, or hurl insults at one another, then we shall play!"
If I demanded that much, they would have no choice but to back down. After all, it was an impossible demand.
Getting this many citizens to swear an oath before the gods...
"We swear!"
"I swear as well!"
"I swear it too!"
The responses rolled through the stands like thunder.
"We swear before Concordia, goddess of harmony and concord!"
"But what fun is a game if we cannot trade a few blows?"
When someone complained, a nearby citizen smacked him on the back of the head.
"Shut your mouth! If the match gets canceled because of you, I'll throw you out of the Circus myself!"
The entire Circus Maximus shook with the clamor. I stood there, jaw slack, staring at the spectacle.
In Rome, swearing an oath before the gods was a grave and solemn matter, not something taken lightly.
Yet they were tossing out oaths as casually as copper coins... Wait, why were they so desperate to watch a game they knew almost nothing about?
As I stood frozen, young Metellus walked up to me.
"It seems there is no avoiding it now," he said, grinning. "The men on my side are eager for a match as well, Caesar. Shouldn't we give the people what they want? You always do, after all."
"I suppose we have no choice here."
I couldn't help but chuckle. If I kept refusing, the atmosphere would quickly turn sour. Since the officials and spectators had already made such concessions, I had to yield.
"However, the moment a disturbance breaks out, the match will be canceled immediately!"
The moment I finished speaking, a deafening cheer erupted.
And just like that, the first gridiron match ever staged before the citizens of Rome began.
***
"What are they preparing?"
"It looks like they're driving stakes into the ground to mark out the field," Spurius muttered.
He was sitting with his wife near the back of the stands.
Having finally secured some rare free time, he had left their child with his mother-in-law so he could enjoy a quiet outing with his wife.
"They seem to be marking out the distances."
"I heard Caesar and Metellus have been playing some new game on the Campus Martius for days now."
"I've only heard the rumors," Spurius replied, nodding.
Indeed, he had only caught wind of it. Spurius had been entirely too busy manufacturing the crossbows and shields for today's demonstration, not to mention the presses for printing the new postage stamps.
He sat beside his wife, watching the men prepare the field. Soon, the players began gathering, taking their positions on the field.
"What kind of game is this anyway?"
"My friends saw it firsthand. They said it's similar to harpastum, but far more entertaining."
"If it's like harpastum, isn't it just a simple ball game? A ball game does not sound very exciting."
"But everyone who has watched it says it is thrilling."
Spectators crowded around anyone who claimed to know the rules and listened intently. "What are the rules?"
"Well, I only saw it from a distance but..."
The spectators crowded around anyone who claimed to know the rules, listening intently. Several senators, including Cicero, tutted in disapproval at the sight.
"No matter how you look at it, having the sons of Rome's finest families play a rough game before the plebs... is that not the sort of vulgar spectacle only Greeks would indulge in?"
"Still, it is a game invented by Lucius Caesar. Are you not curious?"
Amid the buzz of the crowd, the match finally began.
A trumpet blared, and the player standing behind the line of blockers caught the leather ball.
The citizens leaned forward, expecting him to charge straight ahead.
Instead, the player holding the ball took several steps back.
"Why is he running away?"
"Hush and watch. The good part is about to happen."
At that exact moment, the ball arched through the air, sailing clean over the wall of shields. A collective gasp swept through the stands.
The receiver was a Trojan player running a route farther downfield. The moment the leather ball landed in his hands, he kicked up sand and bolted.
"Stop him!"
The Greek players clashed their shields together, forming a wall to block his path.
Thud!
The Trojan player slammed hard into the shield wall.
But another Trojan player, following close behind, shoved an opposing blocker aside and opened a narrow gap.
After a brief, intense scramble, the ball was carried across the goal line for the first score.
Spurius, his wife, the common citizens, and even the senators—everyone in the stands suddenly realized they were completely captivated.
There was something in this game that stirred something ancient and martial within them.
The fierce desire for victory, the raw physical contact, and the tactical clash of opposing lines—it was perfectly suited to the Roman temperament.
"Run! Run!"
"Stop them!"
Thus, the citizens of Rome witnessed gridiron for the first time.
Yet the fame of this new game would not remain confined to Rome for long.
***
"Has there been any news of the Trojan Games?"
"It should arrive any moment now."
Citizens from various towns and allied cities, including Ostia, gathered at the local signal-tower station, a hub where messages from other cities were sent and received.
The towers, once regarded almost as magic, had quickly become an indispensable part of daily life for the allied citizens.
Merchants exchanged reports and invoices through the network, while local politicians could now keep tabs on Roman political developments with only a day's delay.
But trade and politics were not the only kinds of news carried by the towers. The festivals and games held in Rome were also a source of intense fascination for the allied cities.
Recently, all attention had been fixed on the Trojan Games.
After all, the contest featured Lucius Caesar, the very man who had cleared the Italian roads of bandits and promised both large-scale investments and signal towers.
The news of his participation had naturally drawn an extraordinary amount of interest from the citizens of the allied cities.
"A new dispatch just came in! It says the Trojan side led by Lucius Caesar won the match!"
"Excellent! I'm going to make a tidy sum on my wager!"
"Damn it, I would have placed a bet beforehand if I had known it would turn out like this!"
Those who had wagered on the outcome celebrated or sighed in turn. Yet, Lucius Caesar's victory was hardly a shock to anyone.
"Well, it was to be expected, wasn't it? The Metelli are heavily indebted to Caesar after all. They probably threw the match."
"Actually, no. More reports just arrived—they say the match was decided by a duel."
"A duel? In the Trojan Games?"
"Indeed. And they say it was an incredibly close battle."
"If only we could have witnessed it firsthand."
Never before had so many citizens of the allied cities paid such close attention to events in Rome. Previously, even if a major event occurred in Rome, it took at least several days for the news to reach the surrounding cities.
But with the arrival of the signal towers, that delay had all but vanished. Now, more people than ever waited for the daily dispatches from Rome.
And there was another piece of news that immediately captured their curiosity.
"Wait, they held a new ball game after the Trojan Games ended because the citizens demanded it? What is this about?"
"The details are written right here. It's a team sport played with a single ball..."
As word spread that the Roman plebeians had practically forced the Trojan and Greek sides to play, the citizens of the allied cities naturally grew intensely curious about gridiron.
"If the Roman citizens demanded it that fiercely, it must be entertaining. Now I'm curious."
"Indeed. I will have to ask the merchants heading to Rome next week to find out more."
Many of the allied cities had already adopted Rome's passion for gladiatorial combat and chariot racing.
Hearing that a new game had captured Rome's attention was more than enough to pique their curiosity.
However, the existence of the new game was not the only thing that puzzled them.
"Wait, it says Pompey's team won the gridiron match?"
They all stared at the dispatch from Rome, scratching their heads in confusion.
"But wasn't Pompey not even part of the Trojan Games to begin with?"