Tribune of the People

by Dan Wallace

  Casca smiled, “Of course, Tribune. We might like seeing it ourselves.”

  Tiberius laughed, cuffing him on the shoulder. “Then, you have something to look forward to! We’re off!”

  The route to Nasica’s domus led up the Palantine where the most prosperous of the patrician families lived. Nasica’s manse perched high on the hill as if presiding over the other homes of the first families of Rome. The two-story edifice seemed larger to Tiberius than the other homes because of its position on a promontory. He could see that, in fact, it wasn’t really any bigger. Nonetheless, it appeared imposing.

  Polydius grabbed hold of one of the iron knockers and pounded it on the solid, bronze-encased doors. Doors like Jupiter’s temple, Tiberius thought, appropriate for the Pontifex Maximus, he supposed. Two well-muscled guards opened the doors, and Nasica’s main house slave, Rollo, appeared. An attenuated stick of a man in a dark green, embroidered tunic, Rollo stepped between the guards to appraise the visitors. Tiberius and the rest knew that they were expected, Hylas had been sent earlier to notify Nasica. Still, Rollo looked them up and down as though they were itinerant pot-healers rather than the most prominent of Roman citizens.

  “The slights begin,” murmured Appius. “This clown has been well rehearsed for the farce.”

  Rollo waved them inside. Tiberius followed first in line through a long, wide vestibulum unusual in having a narrow pool of water run its full length. At its end stood a statue carved in the classic Greek style of a centaur struggling with a Lapith warrior. The wall of the long pool displayed an elaborate mosaic of a school of tiny fish swimming endlessly toward the perimeter. Though the craftsmanship was splendid, Tiberius couldn’t figure out the logic of the artistry’s juxtaposition. What did the war of the Lapiths and the centaurs have to do with fish in a circle?

  “Perhaps the winner gets to go fishing?” Appius said quietly.

  “Perhaps.”

  The vestibulum opened upon an enormous atrium dominated by a stunning bronze statue of a young Apollo leaning against a tree, insouciantly stabbing the point of a knife at a small lizard twisting out of the way.

  “Minerva keep us!” exclaimed Appius. “Praxiteles? Could it be real?”

  “Genuine, I imagine,” said Crassus, “given Nasica’s splendid success in agriculture and other profitable ventures, especially procurement in Macedonia.”

  They moved past it, staring in awe. Behind the statue stood a large marble altar hosting an outsized array of Lares, with Jupiter rising up almost to the height of a small boy. On either side of the altar stood wooden shelves displaying a host of ancestral masks backlit by small oil lamps.

  “Is there no end to this?” Appius said. “He must have every rat-catcher aedile up there his family ever had elected.”

  “Father, please,” Tiberius whispered.

  Rollo turned to them and, pointing to a half circle of wooden benches, said, “Please be seated. The Master will be with you presently.”

  Crassus and Blossius made a move toward the benches when Tiberius held up his hand, “Wait. Let’s wait for Nasica first.”

  They stood patiently for several minutes until Appius said, “Tiberius, my sorry feet hurt. I’m going to sit.” He took his place on a bench and was soon joined by Crassus and Blossius. Just then, Rollo came into the room, giving way to Nasica entering from the peristylum in the back. His tall, lean body moved slowly in a way that signaled inbred confidence. Outside of a streak of silver in his temples, his cousin seemed to be no older or less privileged these days, Tiberius mused. At least a score of other men followed him into the atrium, many of them senators, and all of them Optimates, the Good Men of Rome. Ahead of them walked Lucius Rufus Faba, shorter and stouter than before if possible, but looking even more arrogant. Tiberius recognized others among them—Cato Minor, Milo, Lucullus, Brutus, Bibulus, Manlius, Pompeius, Metallus, Fulvius, even Postumious in the back, his face screwed up like he had eaten a sour lemon.

  Rollo clapped his hands, and two slaves appeared with a curule chair that they placed in the middle of the atrium directly opposite Tiberius and his party. Other slaves brought in benches with backs and armrests and embroidered cushioned seats. Nasica’s companions sat in them, with Rufus on his right side, smiling open-mouthed, like a lion.

  “What do you want, Gracchus?” Nasica said.

  Tiberius looked at him dispassionately and said, “First, two curule chairs for the Principes Senatus Appius Claudius Pulcher and Publius Crassus Dive, who are guests in your home.”

  Nasica pressed his lips together slightly, but he raised his hand and flexed two fingers in Rollo’s direction without looking at him. Rollo turned to give the order when Appius raised his hand.

  “No, no, that’s quite all right. I’m quite comfortable as it is, sitting on plain, good old solid wood,” he said, patting the bench with his hand. “Besides, I would have to get up and sit down again, more work than it’s worth to these old bones. Don’t you agree, Crassus?”

  Crassus shot Appius a quick glance, then nodded briskly at Nasica.

  “Very well,” said Tiberius. “We have come, Nasica, to apprise you of our plans with the hope that you will join us. We wish to ensure that we can act together to improve the state of Rome’s people, especially our veterans. It is our hope and belief that if we can join forces in this effort, we can succeed in satisfying everyone with the outcome while also strengthening and reinvigorating the Republic.”

  “I see,” said Nasica. “And what is the implement that you propose to use that will bring about this miraculous metamorphosis?”

  Tiberius breathed in deeply, and said, “A lex agraria. A law that will return the public lands of Rome to its people.”

  Nasica turned his head to Rufus, who exchanged a smile with him. On either side and behind them, the other senators and supporters smiled silently.

  “Didn’t you and your august father-in-law bring this notion before the Senate not so long ago?”

  Tiberius nodded, “A year ago.”

  “Oh, and how did that go? My memory fails me,” said Nasica, smiling sheepishly.

  “The Senate turned it down.”

  “Well.” Nasica paused reflectively. “That’s a pity.”

  Muffled laughter could be heard from the men sitting behind him. Nasica said, “So, if the Senate turned you down a year ago, what makes you think minds will change now?”

  Tiberius said, “Because the people wish it. They made that clear through their choices in the past election. More importantly, it is what we should do as the leading citizens of the Republic. It is an opportunity to provide livelihoods for their children, for the starving sons of our veterans and the future citizens of Rome. We need to do this now to restore the legacy of the Republic.”

  Nasica’s benevolent smile froze. “So, now you’re arbiter of our legacy.”

  Tiberius held his hands folded together in front of his breast. “Perhaps not. But Rome possesses centuries-old traditions that have bonded her citizens together in the union of the Republic. These traditions have been bolstered by laws. In recent years, unfortunately, these laws have been deflected or ignored altogether.”

  “What laws do you mean?” Rufus interrupted, snapping in disdain, “You should talk, a traitor who consorted with enemies, a common brigand who stole from honest farmers such as myself!”

  Tiberius dropped his hands into fists and spread his feet. Appius and the other Populares shifted uncomfortably on the benches.

  Tiberius spoke evenly, “All in this room know the truth of my military service to Rome. Every Roman knows of it, and I stand before you as their elected official. I am surprised, too, Rufus, to hear that you still take umbrage at the gracious donation you made to my legion, though the barns of your estate still brimmed with goods. I would have thought you would be proud of supporting the war effort in such a benevolent fashion.”

  Tiberius raised his hands, palms out, and continued, “In any case, you were in violation of the very
laws of which I speak, cultivating without license public lands that had been reserved for returning veterans.” He shrugged, “All in all, perhaps it was a fair trade-off. Though, I’m not sure how you knew at the time you took over the land that you would be making such a gracious gift to our legion. Such prescience must stem from your overall tendency toward general generosity.”

  Rufus sputtered, but Nasica interrupted. “So, you intend to mend these broken laws with another law?”

  “We do. We will form a three-man commission to investigate the use of public lands for private gain. Those who appear to be in violation will be asked to rescind their holdings. They will be given a grace period to vacate the properties, and they will be compensated for their development expenses. Compensation will extend to their heirs. Thereafter, we will adjudicate claims by Romans for lands promised to them for services rendered, especially veterans. In this way, we can remedy the plight of the common man who owns nothing and has no means of support for himself or his family. With these newly landed men, we also will fill the gaping hole in our legions due to lack of available recruits.”

  He paused, waiting to hear their response. The Optimates looked at one another, then back at the Populares sitting before them. After a lengthy silence, Nasica spoke.

  “An ambitious plan. Admirable in its aim to reinvigorate our citizen army. And, compensation to current proprietors and their sons, very far-thinking.” He paused, then said, “Such a venture will require a bit of money. Might I ask, where do you plan on getting it?”

  He leaned forward for the answer. Tiberius said, quite calmly, “Rome will supply the resources necessary to undertake this important initiative.”

  “Ah, Rome!” Nasica said, sitting back. “Always Rome helping the less fortunate.”

  “Rome is rich,” Tiberius said, “the city coffers overflow with gold and coin from Greece.”

  “Of course,” said Nasica, “and we’re to use this wealth to help out the poor wanderers who cannot fend for themselves.”

  “We’ll use our own plebeian coin if we have to,” Tiberius said, “Saturn’s treasury brims with gold, too.”

  “Unhuh,” nodded Nasica. “And, what about the slaves? The current owners have invested heavily in buying slaves to work the land. What becomes of them when your law is enacted? Oh, yes, you will compensate the newly disenfranchised landowners and their heirs, but the slaves must still eat, they must have something to wear, and a place to live. Who is to pay for that?”

  Tiberius stopped for a moment. He then said, “You can sell them to others who need them. You can sell them back to their families. You can contract to free them in exchange for a fair amount to be paid out of their future wages. The praetors and aediles can employ them in the service of Rome. Or, you can simply let them go. You won’t have to feed or clothe them, and they can go home grateful for the benevolence of their former owners.”

  Nasica gazed at Tiberius, idly tapping his fingers on the end of his armrest. After some thought, he turned to his right, then to his left.

  “I think, Gracchus,” he said, “that this sounds like a great amount of work for us without a sure outcome. It seems to me and my colleagues that all of the risk is on our side, not yours. I believe I speak for the majority―,” he looked around again, and the men surrounding him nodded their assent. “I think that we like things the way they are.”

  The men rumbled their agreement.

  Tiberius waited. He said, “Then, we will pass our lex agraria without you, Nasica. We have the people, we have the resources, we have the will. I’m sorry that you cannot see this and won’t join us. It would have been better for you to be on our side.”

  “Oh, now, let me see,” Nasica said, turning to Rufus Faba, “it was Gaius Laelius who tried to pass a lex agraria, wasn’t it?”

  Rufus answered, “Yes, it was.”

  “That’s right,” said Nasica, “and he failed, I believe. He introduced the law, but once he recognized that the Senate opposed it, he withdrew it, knowing that it would never pass, not in a millennium. That’s when people started calling him Laelius the Wise, the Prudent, no?”

  “That is correct,” Rufus said in an amiable tone, “Laelius the Wise.”

  “Yes,” said Nasica, “Prudent, too. And, do you know who sponsored him? Why, the most powerful man in Rome, Scipio Aemilianus. Even the great hero of Carthage couldn’t get Laelius’s land law through―your brother-in-law, Gracchus!” he said, almost bubbling. He leaned over, “Your all-powerful brother-in-law Scipio Aemilianus, the best man in Rome, could not get a land law through. And, he isn’t here to save you, Gracchus, or to help you out now. He’s in Numantia with your little turd of a brother cleaning up your mess!”

  He laughed harshly, and the rest of the Good Men joined in, sniggering derisively.

  “So, go ahead, Tribune Tiberius Gracchus, try and pass your little land reform law, however you like. You will never get it through, never! We will do everything to stop it, everything!”

  Tiberius and the others said nothing. Appius suddenly rose up quickly, followed by Crassus and the rest.

  “Rollo, get them out of my house,” Nasica said.

  Rollo strolled past them, a smug smile on his face, saying over his shoulder, “This way, gentlemen.”

  “Nasica must know that he can’t stop us,” Tiberius said, pacing back and forth in his house’s atrium. Appius, Crassus, Diophanes, and Blossius sat in chairs surrounding the pool, drinking watered wine while sampling bread, oil, and olives brought in by Philea.

  “He must have some sort of plan,” Tiberius said.

  “Most likely, he thinks he does,” Appius said, “but we cannot dwell on what he might or might not be doing. We simply must follow our own plan, amending it as needed along the way.”

  “Nasica acted so wildly,” Crassus said, shaking his craggy head, “he might do anything.”

  “That’s why we have Casca and Ajax,” said Appius.

  “Yes, but can they be with Tiberius all the time?” said Blossius. “Outside, I mean, in public.”

  Tiberius turned and said, “I’m not worried about that. There are plenty of political moves they can make before they consider physical play. We just need to be sure that every contingency has been addressed, we must be ready.”

  Appius lifted and dropped his shoulders. “Ajax is out rounding up our voters. Sextus has provided carts and horses to get the country tribes here. He also has his fellow horsemen at the ready. Casca continues to scour the streets for landed citizens in the city itself. And, of course, our Crassus has seen to our sympathetic senatorial colleagues.”

  Crassus said, “They’ve all been meeting with their clients who will vote as required.”

  “And you have the legislation drafted, Blossius?”

  “He has, and Scaevola has reviewed it. He says it is simple and sound. We should have no problems introducing it.”

  Tiberius slowly raised and lowered his head, “All right. We are ready, then. Is there anyone we need to worry about among my tribunal colleagues?”

  “None worth worrying about,” Appius said. “Publius Satureius grumbled a bit, but he might only be jealous. He came in third in the ballots. We might be able to assuage him a bit with a bit of coin.” He smirked, turning his head to the others, who smiled back at him.

  Tiberius lowered his head, “Very well. Then, tomorrow we publish the edict for the Lex Sempronia Agraria in the Comitium and call for a vote. That will give us three days to get the tribes together.”

  As one, the men in the room clapped their approval.

  Tiberius wore a long tunic beneath his toga in preparation for the cool mornings typical to Rome in the early months of the year. He debated taking a pair of gloves and wearing socks beneath his sandals but decided that some discomfort was warranted for the sake of decorum. Hylas helped drape his toga, a creamy, grey color offset by the crimson of the tunic that peeked out when he shifted in certain ways. He did a half turn left, then right while ga
zing at himself in the polished bronze door of his mother’s closet. Grunting his satisfaction, he pivoted to face her.

  “Yes?” he said.

  “Yes,” she replied. “You’ll start out soon?”

  “As soon as Hylas returns with the lunch goods. Any last instructions?”

  Cornelia stared up at him for an instant, her green eyes shining for once, he thought. “Just remember, my son, the Good Men are as slippery as snakes, and they will do anything to upset your plans. Anything. Is Casca keeping close?” she asked.

  He rolled his eyes, “Mother, you are too dramatic. I’m a tribune, inviolate. And, yes, Casca will be controlling matters in the crowd along with Ajax. Trust me, nothing will happen.”

  “I do trust you, Tiberius,” she said, “you are a good son. It’s the Good Men I don’t trust.”

  “Yes, well,” he said, bending to kiss her cheek, “you’ll know first how it all comes off.”

  He left her chamber, almost passing Claudia on her way in. “Oh,” she said, “I was just looking for you. You’re off?”

  Tiberius wrapped his arm around her waist and grabbed her close to him. “I am. Goodbye, my love, see you soon,” he said, his face barely an inch from hers. He kissed her and let her go. As he walked away, he could hear the small bell chimes of her laughter.

  The morning was cold, he thought, and windy, thank you Venti. He hurried down the lane, hoping that the lower elevation of the Forum would offer some relief. The Rostrum itself would be as cold as the bow of a ship in a heavy sea. Perhaps the day would warm.

  Hylas ran to keep up, the sack of bread, cheese, and fruits banging against his leg as he hurried. Along each side of the street, men watched them closely, alert to any others that might impede the tribune and his servant. In a matter of minutes, they descended into the Forum, suddenly but subtly surrounded by a small contingent of men escorting them to the Rostrum. At the front walked Casca, while Ajax took up the rear. Waiting at the steps, Appius, Crassus, and Blossius took turns greeting Tiberius with kisses and hugs.