You could plan it like a military campaign. Except that these damn whelps were no soldiers and weren't used doing things Vespillo's way. Well, they would soon learn. Vespillo's way was simple. You did what you had to do and just got on with it. Or, more simply put, do as Vespillo said.

While Vitulus was still at the Courts, only just managing to conclude his case before the voting opened, Vispello had gone to supervise the election campaign and make sure these untrained puppies were doing their jobs properly. Those election agents charged with increasing Vitulus's city vote had set up outside a popular tavern in the Subura where they were also offering half-price grain for the duration of the election campaign. All too half-heartedly for Vespillo's taste.

He barked at the shame-faced agents, "Can I remind you that Vitulus is paying you good money for this. Not to stand around and examine your toes all day. Altogether too much money for so easy a piece of work. I could find men right now willing to do your job for a quarter the money, you idle dogs. Now look lively lads, and do your damn jobs!"

In ten minutes, he had them spread out and mingling with the crowds while he stood on a bench and harangued the milling crowd. "Vitulus for Tribune! Vote Vitulus! Vitulus Victor!"

Most passed by on their business, though plenty took advantage of the cheap grain and Vespillo took the opportunity to bend the ear of those who did. Some just listened and nodded, others knew Vitulus or knew of him and enthusiastically declared their support. Not all were so positive, however.

"That degenerate boy-lover! What has he ever done in his life? Stay in Rome and look after himself!"

Before anyone knew it, the imposing figure of Vispello had lept off his bench and in several loose strides had got close enough to grab the man by his dusty tunic. "Turn and face me, dog!" spat Vespillo, his face still unshaven from yesterday and matching the roughness of his voice.

"What has he ever done in his life? Been a good man! And before you start wondering what goes on in the beds of others, find yourself someone to share it with first, you ugly son of a bitch!" The crowd laughed mockingly at the unfortunate man, dwarfed by Vespillo's menacing figure towering over him.

"Quintus Flaminius Vitulus is the man I thank my life for. After the army I sat there drinking and wasting my pension on girls and gambling. Soft fool that he is, he took pity on me. The lowliest dog didn't take pity on me, yet he did. A soft fool, but a good one! Softer than me," he said, shoving the man away.

Addressing the crowd in general, Vespillo continued, "Thanks to Vitulus I didn't drink my life away, he saved me from myself. And I will strike down any man who dares to say he does not love Rome!" As his words died into the crowd, one of the agents took up the cry, "Vitulus for Tribune! Vitulus for Tribune!" and Vespillo made a mental note to double his pay.