by Dan Wallace
Rufus immediately shouted out, “I second Senator Nasica Scipio’s motion.”
Philus addressed the stand of senators on the marble floor. “Well, men, while we’re here―all those in favor of rejecting peace with the Numantines, move to the left.”
Everyone moved left, led first eagerly by Postumious at the front of the Optimates followed by the Populares led by Appius Claudius Pulcher.
Tiberius was stunned. Appius leading the way to nullify peace with Numantia, the one he, his own son-in-law, had negotiated?
“Unanimous. The peace with Numantia is null and void.”
Cheering again, the senators started to make their way back to their seats. Scaveola dropped down next to Tiberius, who immediately whispered harshly in his ear, “What was that?”
Scaveola pulled back his head to gaze at Tiberius.
“You, and Crassus, and my own father-in-law vote against the peace I made? This is how bad matters are, I must fall on my sword?”
Scaveola frowned and hurried to say, “No, no, that’s not it. None of these senators are going to vote for any surrender no matter the circumstances. If we voted for the treaty, we would be standing alone, which would give us no standing at all. We need some credibility when Nasica puts you on trial.”
Nasica spoke loudly from the floor again. “My apologies, Consul.”
Just having lowered himself into his chair, Philus looked at Nasica in annoyance. “We are a busy bee today, aren’t we, Senator?” Seeing Nasica glower at him, he said, “What now?”
Nasica raised his long, sinewy body to its full imposing height, grasping the fold of his toga as he continued. “My brother senators, we have done good work today. We have restored much of Rome’s honor defiled by the craven coward Hostilius Mancinus and his Numantine kings. We have rejected this most dishonorable peace. But we have more to do to remove fully this stain from our great city. The gods will it.”
He swept his arm across the men sitting on the bench in front of the gallery. “There sit Mancinus’s partners in perfidy. He could not disgrace Rome without the complicity of these men, his tribunes. They, too, need to be called to account for their treasonous acts! And, of all the scurrilous scum in our midst, none can be guiltier than their leader in treachery, the architect of this repugnant peace treaty, this capitulation,” Nasica whirled around and pointed directly, “Tiberius Sempronius Gracchus!”
Silent for one instant, the men still standing on the floor and those near their seats broke into a torrent of words, some crying out their dissent, others growling their support. The sound rose as they called back and forth, with Philus whacking his baton again and again on one of his chair’s armrests. Realizing that no one could hear him, he turned to one of the guards in the shadows and barked an order.
The guard saluted, and left the chamber, soon returning with another legionary carrying a cornu. Philus nodded at him, and he let loose a blast from the curved horn that quieted the room immediately.
“Good senators, please be silent and return to your seats,” said Philus. The men grumbled, not used to being ordered around, but those still on the floor walked back and sat down, all but Nasica and Appius.
“Senator Nasica,” Appius cried out, “how can you denigrate the head of one of the great families of Rome?”
“Mancinus came from a good home, too,” Nasica said dryly.
“Yes, the demise of the ex-Consul is unfortunate, but you cannot place him in the same category as Tiberius Sempronius Gracchus. The Quaestor’s record is unblemished!”
“Except for consorting with the enemy Numantines.”
“Not so! He followed specific orders from his consul!”
“He put those orders into Mancinus’s mouth!” shouted Nasica. “He persuaded his commander to bow to the Hispanii barbarians.”
“What a crass and confoundimg lie you tell,” Appius said, “a greater invention I’ve never heard in my life, even by a seasoned liar such as yourself.”
“Oh, really?” said Nasica. He gestured with both hands to the doorway. “Perhaps I should have Mancinus recalled to testify? Or, we can ask the Tribunes sitting here to tell us what they know.”
“Exactly, they have no axes to grind,” rejoined Appius. He turned to the gallery, “Roman senators, think of who we are discussing here. Tiberius Sempronius Gracchus, natural born son of the great twice-consul and censor Tiberius Sempronius Gracchus Major and his venerated mother Cornelia Scipionis Africana Sempronia. No blood line comes any purer, and the young scion here has proven himself worthy again and again. First over the wall at Carthage, an efficient and well-respected city praetor, and the hero―yes, hero―who staved off fatal defeat at the hands of the Numantine horde.”
The catcalls began, and Appius was dismayed to see that they came from both sides of the Senate chamber from more members than he found to be comfortable. Nasica looked smug, a mistake, thought Appius.
“It is odd,” said Nasica, “how you can see events so differently from how others see them. How differently you see them from the truth. Gracchus is no hero, he’s a cowardly traitor who overstepped his rank to kneel before a disgusting, treacherous bunch of goat herders.”
“He was charged by Mancinus to deal with the Numantines!” shouted Appius.
“Gracchus was a quaestor, not a tribune.” Nasica drew back and folded his arms over his breast. “Not much of a quaestor, either, it seems. His account transcripts are indecipherable, and the silver is gone.”
Appius sighed his exasperation. “The Numantines took all when they stormed Mancinus’s camp, including the books!”
“And, they were happy to return them to Sempronius Gracchus when he agreed to such a tainted peace. Our ignoble quaestor even took a bribe for his traitorous work.”
“You begrudge a small amount of frankincense to sacrifice to the gods in the names of our fallen legionaries? You should applaud such an act of piety, Pontifex Maximus!”
Nasica shook his head slowly, “A bribe. For treason.”
The men in the gallery growled again. This was going badly, thought Appius, very much so. What to do, how to get my daughter’s husband out of this trial by fire?
He paused and breathed silently, in and out. He relaxed his body, and said “I’m surprised at you, Senator Scipio Nasica. Where are you going with your character assassination? First Mancinus, then the martyred Fabius, and now Tiberius Sempronius. Who’s next, Tribune Horatius?”
Tiberius saw the shudder run through the drunken first tribune sitting in front of him on the bench.
“Then Secundus? Does Rome decimate officers now? You go too far, Nasica Serapio, your sense of justice wanders as much of a twisted path as your nose.”
A collective gasp could be heard throughout the chamber at the crude insult leveled by Appius. Nasica turned an arterial red at the affront.
“Rather than allow you to bully this genteel group of Rome’s most distinguished citizens, I believe they deserve to learn more of the details of this event, especially of the qualities of this great Roman scion that compelled him to act in Hispania.”
Nasica wheeled to Philus and said, “Consul, is this appropriate or even necessary?”
But before Philus could speak, another voice sounded in the chamber.
“Consul Philus, I believe that Senator Appius Claudius’s proposal is not only appropriate, it is absolutely necessary.”
Philus opened his mouth to speak, then froze when he saw who had interrupted Nasica. Standing tall next to Tiberius, Publius Licinius Crassus Dives Mucianus had exercised his prestige as Princeps Senatus to interrupt the proceedings. Philus looked at Nasica and held his hand out in a gesture of concession.
“After all,” Crassus continued, “we have plenty of time to decide the disposition of Quaestor Sempronius Gracchus once Senator Claudius has concluded his remarks. The condemnation of any Roman should never be conducted like a horse race. Wouldn’t you agree, Senator Nasica?”
Nasica’s expression tightened
even more, but he briskly nodded his head in assent.
“Very well, then. Consul?” he said as he moved to sit down.
Fidgeting uncomfortably, Philus said, “Senator Claudius, please proceed with your commentary.”
While they had been talking, Appius had leaned over the wooden partition in front of the first-row seats to whisper in Scaveola’s ear. Scaveola jumped from his seat and quickly left the Senate chamber.
“Senator Claudius!”
“Yes, yes,” Appius said, “I merely asked Senator Scaevola for a favor. Please forgive me.
“Now, we take up an extremely important task today, good Romans, one that has consequences not only for our beloved city. The reputation of one of the oldest, most honored families in our history is at stake as well.”
Scaveola returned with Gaius at his side. Gaius carried a jug with him, and a beaker.
“Ah, my fellow senator returns, thankfully, with the succor I most desperately need.”
Gaius stopped next to Appius and started pouring water into the beaker. Appius leaned over to him and whispered at length until Gaius shook his head up and down. He placed the jug onto the low marble wall in front of the first row of benches and bolted from the building.
“Consul, must we?” said Nasica, seated next to Rufus.
Before Philus could respond, Appius turned quickly to him, saying, “I was parched, heavenly gods save me. One must have all of his senses intact when orating in front of the most august assembly in the civilized world, no? Now, I am ready.
“To understand the actions of Tiberius Sempronius Gracchus, one must understand the underpinnings of his noble character. Tiberius’s great qualities go far back in his family, starting with his most illustrious father, Tiberius Sempronius Gracchus Major. We all have heard of his extraordinary accomplishments, his victory over the Numantines, his two consulships, his brilliant turn as censor. But to know how truly great he was, one needed to know the man behind the achievements. I knew Gracchus Major as a mentor and a friend. I met him long ago, when I was a very young man....”
Chapter 24. Wind from the North
Tiberius sat on the edge of the bed quietly, bowed over almost to his knees. Next to him, Claudia slept, occasionally snoring until she could adjust her swollen body into a more comfortable position. She had joined him after dinner, a glum affair without much conversation between the adults in the room. Appius ate with them, though even the great senator picked at his meal. The children chattered away, oblivious to the gloom of their elders. The problem was, thought Tiberius, that there wasn’t much to say.
That afternoon in the Senate, Appius had kept up his history of the Sempronii famly tree. More than occasionally, though, he digressed to describe the peculiarities of the merchants from the far reaches only Alexander had seen, or the intricate process used by the Hebrew peoples to blow glass. Finally, in accord with tradition Philus was compelled to close the session at sunset. Nasica did not bother trying to disguise his ire, while Rufus shouted loudly his fury. The applause of the senators who had not left for an early repast drowned out Rufus’s vitriol. Horatius and the other tribunes almost collapsed with relief, and happily rushed from the Senate chamber to seek out the nearest taverna to celebrate their reprieve.
But it would all start again in the morning, thought Tiberius. Appius would still hold the floor, but for how long? How long could he last? After dinner, they needed to hire a litter to get him home, exhausted as he was.
Everyone in the house knew it. Tomorrow, his father-in-law would have to yield the floor, either from sheer fatigue or from the cajoling of the senators tired of being a captive audience. Nasica and his band would swoop down, then, to draw the blood of their prey, with Mancinus’s failed quaestor first in line.
Tiberius grasped his head with both hands. Why did I ever leave this place? In Carthage, I proved to be no soldier, why did I have to go to Numantia? What ambition was this? Whose?
“My love, come back to bed.”
Claudia had awakened, though he couldn’t think of how he had roused her. She worked to sit up and began kneading his back, trying to get him to relax. Despite her best efforts, he showed no sensation.
“Tiberius,” she said, “you must relax, you must rest.”
"It is hard,” he said in a low voice. “I’m tired, but I can’t sleep.”
She gently pulled at him until he fell sideways against her hip, a feat in itself, given her swollen state. She repositioned his head until he was resting while she slowly stroked his head.
“What can happen?” she said. “No matter what, you will always have your family, your children,” she went on, lightly touching her round abdomen as she spoke. “You’ll always have me, Tiberius, no matter what.”
“But will you have me?” he said sharply. “We have no idea what these vipers might do. Nasica, Rufus, Postumious, they’re all vindictive elitists. They sent Mancinus naked back to Hispania, and he was one of their own. By the depths of Hades, they might throw me and the other tribunes off the Tarpeian Rock!”
Claudia sighed. She laid her hands on his cheek, saying, “They are not going to throw you off the Tarpeian Rock. They don’t dare threaten death to a Gracchi, son of your father and Scipio Africanus’s daughter.”
“You don’t know them,” Tiberius said petulantly.
“The worst that could happen would be to send you away from Rome. Not a terrible fate, when you think about it. We could live a pastoral life on our farm, a healthy life. The children would thrive! Truffles and ham hocks for dinner with plenty of greens.” She nudged him, “A little wine, perhaps, and more children?”
“We don’t need wine for that,” he said flatly, “we seem to be blessed by the gods no matter what.”
“Ah, but practice makes perfect,” she said, “which is why we have such perfect children. So, we better keep practicing to ensure good results.”
“Not in the immediate future, though,” he said, running his hand over her distended belly.
“Oh, I don’t know, we might find a way.”
She rolled over on her side away from him, then reached back with her hand. “Let’s be a little resourceful, shall we?” she said, beginning to move her hips.
Afterwards, he lay wide-eyed awake, waiting for the dawn.
The cold spell in Rome continued, accenting the misery Tiberius felt as he made his way down the Palantine He walked alone, Gaius apparently being too tired to stir from his room. He stumbled several times due to his own fatigue, but of course he could not indulge in the luxury of sleeping late into the morning. Fortuna awaited him in the Curia Hostilia.
Barely a soul could be seen in the marketplace. A few merchants began to set up their goods to display, but most people were still at home in bed. Even the early risers might hide in their kitchens rather than venture out into the cold, gray morning. He could see the sun begin to rise, which meant that he was late.
He hurried through the Forum to the Curia where he could see on the side away from the public concourse the smoldering remains of the offerings to the gods. Nasica had done his work, he thought sourly as he smelled the singed flesh of the carcasses smoldering on the altar. The auspices for trying traitors had been good, no doubt.
Inside, he found Crassus and Scaveola sitting where they had the day before, saving the seat between them for him. Appius was nowhere in sight, however. Nasica sat with Rufus and Postumius, the other Optimates in close ranks behind them. As Tiberius took his seat, he saw two legionaries enter to post themselves at each side of the doorway. Philus followed them in and sat in his curule chair.
He glance around the chamber, then said, “I don’t see our illustrious Senator Claudius among us, today. Probably still hoarse.”
Amidst the laughter from Philus’s crack, a voice rang out, “A horse I may be, Consul, but one whose race has not run its course yet.”
“I see more carthorse in you than thoroughbred, Pulcher,” said Nasica.
“You’ve backed enou
gh carthorses in the Circus to know, Nasica.”
The senators laughed heartily at each jibe, until Philus rapped his baton.
“Enough. We have business to do.”
“Thank you, Consul, I’m eager to continue my discourse on the Sempronii clan proving how no member of this esteemed family bloodline could have conducted themselves in the craven fashion slanderously asserted by Senator Scipio Nasica and his fellow halfwits.”
The room exploded with noise, laughter from the Populares and outrage from the Optimates. Philus cracked his baton against his chair and signaled to the soldiers at the doors to advance. The senators muted their outcries, though strains of laughter still could be heard from the watchers outside of the building.
“No more slanders yourself, Senator Claudius.”
Appius gently touched his breast as part of an exaggerated expression of puzzlement.
“Consul, this is a monstrous waste of time,” Nasica said, exasperated, “Can we not do what we have to do without hearing this irrelevant prattle?”
Philus opened his mouth to speak when he saw Crassus begin to rise to his feet. “Continue, Senator Claudius,” said Philus.
“Thank you, Consul.”
“But be forewarned, we won’t spend another entire day listening to your elaborate history of the Gracchi. A decision shall be rendered in this session.”
“Very well, Consul, but I will object if I am not allowed to state all of the plain facts regarding this false prosecution.”
“Proceed,” waved Philus.
Tiberius had to admire Appius’s endless invention and energy in squeezing every second of time out of his delaying strategy. But to what end? he thought. Sooner or later, he would have to step aside. Then, Nasica would swoop in and sweep away all of Appius’s oratory as pointless.
If they didn’t condemn him to the same fate as Mancinus, the least they would do is exile him far away from Rome. And no matter how much Claudia implored him, he would not take his family to some rock far out at sea, or some desert province where vinegar passed for water. He refused to subject the love of his life or his sweet little children to such hardship and ignominy. He would fall on his sword first.