Tribune of the People

by Dan Wallace

  “That doesn’t sound pleasant.”

  “It was very discomforting. But Tiberius seemed to respond to their plight very vocally, almost fiercely. He gave them food, I imagine, and hope. In any case, those who survive are devoutly loyal to him. We can round them up and make a show.”

  She shook her head, “The Senate won’t care, they won’t give a fig, literally.”

  Appius angled his eyes up at her. “They might give pause if enough bodies show up.”

  Corneliab said, “The decision will be made in the Senate by the Senate. You need to find bodies that can enter the Hostilia Curia, ones that count.”

  Appius nodded slowly, “Let’s hope we can find enough.”

  Chapter 23. Princeps Senatus

  An hour after dawn, Philea entered to rouse Tiberius. Before she could call him, however, he sat up in bed as though he hadn’t slept. The Senate met at midmorning. He had enough time to perform a quick ablution, get dressed, and eat a piece of bread on his way down the Palatine to the Forum. No time to honor the Lares this morning or play with the children. Claudia had left his side for her own room in the middle of the night, a victim of his tossing and turning. Today, he would meet his detractors face to face and learn what his fate might be.

  Gaius caught him in the atrium.

  “You go now?” his brother asked. Tiberius nodded. “I’ll join you.”

  “No need, brother. I can make my own way well enough.”

  Gaius said with disdain, “Don’t be ridiculous, Tiberius. I’ll keep you company.”

  Tiberius shrugged. “As you wish but be quick about it. I want to get there and meet Appius before it all starts up.”

  They started walking briskly down the hill, as much to generate some warmth as to make time. “So,” Gaius said, his breath visible in the cold morning air, “what do you expect this morning? What do you think will happen?”

  Tiberius gave him a searing look and said sharply, “I expect to be impaled on a spit and turned slowly on a low fire. What do you think I expect to happen?”

  Faster than he could bite his tongue he saw the jab sour Gaius’s features. Tiberius put his arm on his brother’s and said, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Gaius. I know you’re trying to make it better, I know you’re trying to help. I’m just not sure there’s much helping to be done here.”

  Gaius regained his bearings, and said cautiously, “It’s that bad?”

  Tiberius twisted his face in a quick grimace. “Maybe. I don’t know. When we get down there, Appius might know more.”

  They took long strides down the hill silently for a few minutes. Gaius finally said softly, “Well, if I can help, I’d like to.”

  Tiberius halted abruptly, grabbed his brother by the shoulders, and said, “Just by having you here brings me strength, Gaius. How could I ask for more?”

  “Yes, but I’m a good soldier, too,” he said, now almost looking his older brother straight in the eyes. “I’ve been training hard.”

  He had grown, Tiberius thought, in just a year, a fully-grown man. Soon, he would attach himself to some consul or praetor marching for glory. He prayed to the gods that it wasn’t someone like Mancinus.

  “I know you’ll be a fine soldier, Gaius. How could you not be?”

  “Yes, well,” said the beaming Gaius, “in case things become physical today, I’ll be at your side.”

  Tiberius smiled, “That warms me to know you’ll be with me.”

  The two brothers continued down to the bottom of the Palatine in a much better mood. In no time, they reached the Forum. Outside of the Comitium, they saw Appius waiting with Scaveola, Diophanes, and Crassus.

  “Salvete,” said Tiberius, giving each man a quick hug and a peck on each cheek. Gaius followed suit. The men pulled their togas tight around their bodies against the cold air of the fading night. A line of pink peeked above the eastern horizon, but it would be a few hours before the city would warm up for the day.

  “Well?” said Tiberius.

  Appius replied, “Well, it isn’t Mancinus, obviously. Since his fellow consul Lepidus Porcina left for to Hispania to quote, ‘hold the line,’ the Senate is a bit short on consuls right now. So, Consul-elect Furius Philus has been pressed into service. Scipio Aemilianus will be happy about this arrangement, of course, which allows him to stay put on his rustic little farm.” Appius smiled grimly as he continued, “The Optimates are out in strength, however.”

  Tiberius nodded, “Is Mancinus present?”

  Appius dipped his head, “He is, and his tribunes, sitting together behind the great man, I believe.”

  Tiberius nodded again, up and down. Crassus put his arm on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Tiberius, it’s all for show. They want blood, it’s true, but not from a Gracchi. They won’t dare to besmirch your honorable name. Oh, Mancinus will get his just desserts, perhaps exile to Macedonia or some such rock pile. The tribunes will have their knuckles rapped and sent home. Before you know it, they’ll be soldiering again in some far reach themselves.”

  Tall like Tiberius, Crassus hardly filled out his toga, he was so lean. Graying, his eyebrows were bushy black, accenting the most gentle-looking eyes a person could see, matched by his warm attention, a comfort to all he met. Odd, thought Tiberius, to try and match his congenial demeanor with his practical assessment of Mancinus’s fate and those associated with him. Still, this man lost in the folds of his drab, grey toga that seemed to wear him came from one of the wealthiest families in Rome, a fortune increased by every ensuing generation. Apparently, a pleasant disposition could take you only so far, mused Tiberius.

  “When we go into the Curia,” Appius broke in, “you’ll be sitting with Scaevola and Crassus on either side. I’ll be sitting just in front of you. There will be no grouping of you with Mancinus’ tribunes. In this case, you will be the Quaestor. In this context, the others are no friends of your, Tiberius.”

  “In any context, Father-in-law.”

  “Oh, really? Well, then, let us join the Senate’s deliberations.”

  The five men headed for the massive doors of the Curia Hostilia crowded around by a surprising number of onlookers. Evidently, word had spread that Mancinus and his lot would soon have their fates decided by the Senate.

  Someone shouted out, “There’s Tiberius Gracchus!”

  Appius winced and tried to hurry the small group inside, but the expected chorus of catcalls never materialized. Instead, the crowd was silent, almost eerily so, throwing Appius into an internal panic of worry. Why were they so quiet, the usually rambunctious and vocal masses of Rome? What did this augur?

  Along with Gaius, Diophanes was about to peel off to find a good vantage point near the doorway, since they were not members of the Senate. Before he could leave, Appius grabbed him by his sleeve and whispered in his ear, “Try to find out why this crowd is so docile. It’s quite out of the ordinary.”

  The Greek mentor nodded, and Appius made his way back to Tiberius and the rest of his entourage. They entered the Curia vestibulum and stopped for a moment to compose themselves. Voices sounded from the main chamber, most likely a procedural matter, since they were too low to be heard outside. Appius signaled for everyone to follow him inside.

  Passing a series of large, marble-faced columns, they walked into the main Senate chamber, a vast, rounded room with grated windows across the walls, allowing what little sunlight available this day to shine in weakly. Instead of flying around to bless the senators, the pigeons cooped close together in the windowsills to keep as warm as possible.

  A marble floor alternated black and white rectangles in the dim light. Oil lamps and lit braziers generated a modicum of heat and slow spirals of smoke twisting up into the rafters. Two rows of wooden seats curved around the front of the floor, with a low marble footing enclosing three levels of stone benches on balconies rising to the outside wall. A stairway in the middle leading up to each level more or less separated the Optimates from the Populares. Across the marble floor, two curule
chairs faced the gallery, one empty according to tradition. The other seated the presiding consul Furius Philus. What was unusual, however, was a stool and a bench between the chairs and the rows of senators. On the stool sat the deposed consul Gaius Hostilius Mancinus, and behind him on the bench hunched his four military tribunes, Horatius, Secundus, Nicomedes, and Cadmus. The four tribunes wore simple tunics, their military attire and insignia nowhere in sight. They shivered, though not just from the chill in the air. Their demeanors reflected their unease and anxiety at such vulnerability, like ordinary plebeians. Even at this hour, Horatius looked like he was drunk. He must have come directly from the taverna, up all night.

  Tiberius was shocked by Mancinus’s appearance. He had wrapped himself in an unadorned toga, and gone was his perpetual sneer of arrogance, replaced by almost a birdlike nervousness. His eyes darted up and down, back and forth, guarding against any sudden movement around him. The network of lines running down his drawn face cast his sharp nose in high relief, furthering the avian effect.

  “By the gods, Mancinus brought down!” Appius muttered almost in disbelief. “Notice how his toga is free of any bird droppings. Very bad omen.”

  Across the chamber stood a tall man in an immaculate toga, off-white with the additional crimson trim of a proconsular senator. He stared at the four men at a standstill in the chamber’s doorway. Scipio Nasica smiled a disdainful smile. Seated close to him on a marble bench sat Rufus Faba glowering at the new party.

  “We’ve interrupted his speech,” Scaveola murmured. “Let us sit down now.”

  They moved to the side of the Senate gallery mostly occupied by Populares. Appius took his seat in the front row where Crassus usually sat next to him. Instead, Crassus and Scaveola sat directly behind him with Tiberius in the middle. Tiberius could see Nasica’s and Rufus’s eyes tracking them as they all sat down, and he could feel the eyes of the rest of the Senate doing the same.

  “I’m happy you could join us, Claudius, and particularly pleased that you brought your son-in-law Gracchus with you to stand before this sacred assembly. Quaestor, please join your fellow officers on the floor with your commander Hostilius Mancinus.”

  “That’s perfectly all right,” interjected Appius, “we’re completely comfortable sitting where we are.”

  Nasica’s friendly smile froze. “Very well. As long as the quaestor is here to face the consequences of his actions.”

  He turned to the curule chairs and said to the Consul-elect Philus, “By your leave, I will continue with my summation.”

  “By all means, Senator, go on. Then we can have a division.”

  Nasica pivoted and walked to within a few feet of Mancinus. “Gaius Hostilius Mancinus, it has been established and confirmed that you led the Roman army into Numantia where you met utter, ignominious defeat at the hands of the barbarians. In this ill-fated campaign, a legion of men was slain, a Roman camp was stormed and destroyed with all Roman property and personnel within lost, while you fled the field only to have the remains of your force penned in at the mercy of the Hispanii hordes. Do you admit to these failings and transgressions?”

  Mancinus gazed up at Nasica hovering over him. He swallowed, and said, “I do. I lost the war and I almost lost my entire army. I am guilty of failure.”

  One senator in a back row gasped. The others held their breath at this astonishing confession, this total capitulation.

  Nasica’s eyes shone. “You surrendered to the Numantines?”

  “Yes,” Mancinus said in the barely audible voice of a mouse.

  “And, you consorted with the enemy to negotiate an unsanctioned peace?”

  Mancinus allowed himself a hopeful tone, “We were allowed to leave. No more were killed.”

  “You sued for an illegal peace to save your own skin. Never once did you think of honorably falling on your own sword?”

  Mancinus covered his face with his hands.

  “Instead,” Nasica said, “you conspired to cry for peace.”

  “Uh-oh,” whispered Appius. He shot to his feet and said, “With all respect, Consul Philus, and my deepest apology to Senator Nasica for my interruption. However,” he said quickly before either Philus or Nasica could stop him, “it seems to me that you stray from the main argument of this inquiry, that of the culpability of losing the war in Numantia. You have a stark confession from ex-Consul Hostilius Mancinus, I see no reason to waste more time exhausting all of us with the minute details of this catastrophe. Rather, it is time that a judgment be rendered, don’t you think?”

  A ragged chorus of voices came from the seated senators. “Just so,” “Let’s get on with it, Nasica,” “Crucify the turd!”

  Nasica opened his mouth to object, until he realized that Appius’s support was coming from both sides of the aisle.

  “Why did he do that?” Tiberius quietly asked Scaveola.

  “Nasica was sniffing around the legitimacy of the peace negotiation, intimating that it was something of a conspiracy. If he opens that door and manages to denounce the peace, the situation would become very uncomfortable for you.”

  “Oh,” said Tiberius.

  Nasica stepped over to the consul’s chair to whisper in Philus’s ear, who swung his head up and down in agreement. Nasica returned to Mancinus

  “You recognize how you have disgraced yourself and Rome?”

  Mancinus dropped his eyes and nodded silently yes.

  “Then, a fitting penalty should be leveled.”

  Mancinus nodded again.

  “In that case, with your accession, Consul Philus, I call for motions on punitive measures to be carried out on ex-Consul Gauis Hostilius Mancinus.”

  Senators jumped up throughout the room, “Crucify him!” “Strangle him!” “To the arena!” “Throw him off the Tarpeian Rock!”

  Every vicious outcry caused Mancinus to bend further over in his chair, as if trying to assume the fetal position while sitting.

  Philus banged his baton against the side of his chair, “Enough. Enough! Let’s have some propriety here.”

  “Thank you, Consul,” said Nasica. “Senators, your suggestions seem reasonable under the circumstances. But how to choose?”

  At that moment, Lucius Rufus Faba rose from his seat. “Senator Nasica, if I may make a suggestion.”

  “Yes, Senator Rufus, all right.” Nasica turned to the side so that the entire Senate could see the small round man.

  Rufus hiked his toga up over his shoulder in the classic pose and began. “The crimes of Mancinus are multiple and serious. Any of the suggestions this body has made would be fitting. However, what will we gain from them? Will Numantia know that we reject their so-called generosity? Will they know that we shall not rest until this blot upon the very soul of Rome is avenged? No, my fellow senators. I put it to you that we need to send a message to the Numantine barbarians. And, what better way to do it than in the person of Mancinus?”

  A rumble ran through the Senate as they wondered among each other what Rufus was getting at.

  Rufus barely suppressed a secret smile. “Nearly 200 years ago, Rome was at war with our Samnite allies. How times have changed!” he said. “The fighting was brutal, ruthless, the Samnites a worthy foe, unlike the Numantines. But I digress. Sad to say, as we all know the Samnites inflicted a terrible defeat upon our legions at Caudine Forks. Afterwards, it was found that the loss was due to the incompetence of our Roman commanders. The Senate acted without hesitation; all twenty officers were handed over to the Samnites to do with them as they wished. The act showed the Samnites our determination in bold terms. Soon, they surrendered to Rome.

  “My fellow senators, we should send a similar signal to the Numantines. Only then will they know that they enjoy a very brief respite from the might of Rome. Therefore, I propose that we strip Mancinus of his rank, privilege, and belongings, and have him sent to Numantia in chains to show our unwavering defiance!”

  The chamber roared, the senators standing and stomping their feet as
they shouted, the outburst startling the pigeons in the windows into flight around the heights of the Curia. Philus pounded his baton against his chair without effect. No one could hear above the din. Finally, the men ran out of steam. Philus beat his baton again and spoke.

  “By your actions, I’ll assume that we have support of the motion.”

  “Consul,” said Nasica, “we still should have a division to ensure that this sentence was formally approved before we carry it out.”

  Philus nodded, and the senators stepped down from their seats to gather for the division. Only Tiberius and a few other guests remained in their seats.

  “All those opposed to Senator Rufus’s proposed penalty for ex-Consul Gaius Hostilius Mancinus, step to the right.”

  Not one senator moved.

  “All those in favor of this punishment, move to the left.”

  The entire body of senators moved left, which led to another round of ragged yells.

  Mancinus slumped in his chair.

  “The proposal is unanimously approved,” said Philus. “You may return to your seats, senators.” But not a man moved.

  Philus turned to Mancinus. “Gaius Hostilius Mancinus, please rise. By the power vested in me by the Roman Senate and the people of Rome, I divest you of all of your offices, your patrimony, and your possessions. You will be taken in chains to Numantia to be handed over to the barbarians to do with you as they see fit.”

  Mancinus nearly collapsed, but two soldiers stepped out to grab him. They immediately stripped off his toga, his tunic, and his subligaculum, leaving him naked and shivering on the Senate floor. The two soldiers put the shivering man in manacles and walked him out of the chamber while a third legionary picked up his clothes and followed. The senators milled around, ready to go back to their seats when Nasica called out, “Senators, we have not yet completed our duty.”

  They turned to look at their tall colleague. “We still bear the stain of a repugnant peace agreement with the Numantines, a shameless, illicit state of affairs that Rome cannot tolerate. Now that we have fairly dealt with the engineer of this disastrous campaign, we must undo the damage done to Rome’s reputation by repudiating this false peace treaty. Consul, I move that we vote on whether to reject any peace with the Numantine hordes.”