by Dan Wallace
His brow furrowed, Tiberius pulled back his head. “Of course it isn’t! There are much easier ways to gain wealth, Marcus, you must know that now, sailing with the current rather than against it. Do you really think that I wanted to do this? You’ve known me for a long time, Marcus, you know that I’ve never been a politically ambitious man. My little brother Gaius would be much better than me at this. I cannot tell you how many times I wished he had been the oldest son. I never had a choice in the path I took until now. After seeing what has happened to our fellow plebeians, the deprivation, starvation, and death, all at the hands of Rome’s own leading patriarchs, I had to act. This is a passion for me now, Marcus, not because I want it to be, but because it must be.”
Marcus took a half step back. “Well, then, I’m sorry for you, too, Tiberius. We all have our burdens to bear. But I still must oppose you. I believe in the order of things in Rome, I believe in the Mos Maiorum. And, it also could be my last chance to have a little of what you have, Tiberius. Perhaps I’ll marry again one day and have heirs. I must oppose you, Tiberius.”
Tiberius scowled, “Very well, Marcus, but you will lose. The people want this change and they will press you until you revoke your veto. And, I will be leading them, Octavius, know this.”
“So be it,” said Marcus. “Prospero, please escort Tribune Sempronius Gracchus to the door.” He waved his hand at breast height, “Vale, Tiberius.”
“May the gods be with you, Marcus.”
The following day, the crowd in the Comitium roared as Tiberius stepped forward to present his case.
“Tribune Octavius, the people of Rome have made themselves heard: they want the lex agraria to pass. They want the land promised to them by Rome’s forefathers. They want their fair share, and you must rescind your veto and vote for the people!”
Thousands of men in and around the Comitium stomped their feet and brandished closed fists in the air. Women and children far away added their high-pitched screams and shouts to the din rising from the Comitium floor. Tiberius waved his own hand high in his familiar fashion, which caused even louder, throaty cries. He gracefully turned aside and looked back at Octavius.
Octavius gathered himself deliberately and slowly made his way to the front of the Rostrum. As he reached front and center, the noise from the crowd subsided as they waited to hear what he had to say.
“People of Rome, I cannot condone Tribune Sempronius Gracchus’s disregard of the traditions of the Republic or the Senate leadership with which the gods have blessed us all. Gracchus wishes to change Rome only for the sake of change itself, to rend the fabric of our society only as a means for installing himself and his accomplices as masters of Rome. Therefore, once again, I exercise my right to veto the Lex Sempronia Agraria.”
For an instant, nothing broke the silence except the distant cry of a single crow flying low across the city. Pandemonium exploded throughout the Forum as the massed men shouted and surged closer to the Rostrum. Tiberius raised spread arms to them as if silently saying what more can I do? The men started chanting “Gracchus, Gracchus, Gracchus,” and “land, land, land.”
He lowered his hands and peered at Octavius, who stood like a rock against the closing tide of men screaming and bellowing their outrage. Octavius knew that, as a tribune, his physical person was inviolate, that anyone who attacked him would be stripped of his house and belongings and either be dropped off the Tarpeian Rock or thrown into prison. Tiberius wanted to strangle Octavius himself, but he also realized that he somewhat admired him, too. He wondered what would happen if a tribune attacked a tribune?
The next day repeated the previous, and the one that followed repeated the last. Tiberius would broach one salient after another, and Octavius would stand firm in his opposition. Sextus and the other equestrians gritted their teeth and maintained the camps of rural voters, but even these were eroding despite their efforts. Farmers had farming to do, livestock to raise, fish to fry. Their defection didn’t really threaten the Populares majority, but the impasse started to stretch tempers.
“It’s been a week now,” Crassus lamented, “and still that little cripple goes on and on about the propriety of this radical law. Venus love me, the laws are already on the books, they just ignore them! This goes on, and we bleed dry,” he said mournfully.
“We are stuck,” Diophanes agreed. “If this continues, the little stone over which our tidal waves break will soon become the massive crater that swallows our ocean.”
Appius mused, “The stone in the sandal that cripples the marching legionary.”
“The cripple who is crippling us,” moaned Crassus.
“He’s not a cripple,” Tiberius said. “He may have a short leg, but if he’s proven anything, he’s shown us that he is not at all a cripple.”
The other men dutifully nodded their agreement.
“Tomorrow, I’ll try a different tack, see if that moves him.”
“Tribune Octavius,” Tiberius called out the next morning, then softly, “my beloved friend Marcus, will you not relent?”
Octavius raised his voice, “I cannot, dear Tiberius. I must defend Rome against even the lightest shift in the wind if it threatens the people with illegal and ruinous new mandates.”
“You accuse me of wanting to be the master of Rome,” Tiberius said. “I harbor no such ambition. Indeed, I would gladly defer and follow you if you would only reject your intractable stance. Please, follow the will of the people!”
A ragged cheer erupted from the men in the Comitium, a much smaller crowd than on the first day, and every day after that. Their support was eroding from the trickle of water flowing from Octavius’s obstinacy. Octavius let loose a few more drops by saying, “I cannot. The greatness of Republican tradition is at stake.”
“It’s all but over,” Blossius stated that evening. “He won’t budge. We should withdraw the legislation and go after something more attainable while we still have any majority at all.”
“Oh, don’t be in such a hurry to rush to defeat, Blossius,” Appius said, “there’s plenty to be done before we reach that point.”
“Oh, very good, then, Appius,” said Crassus, “what do you have in mind?”
His head cocked, Appius eyed Crassus, wondering if he was being sincere or sarcastic. “Well,” he hesitated, “we can master the situation if we just put our heads together.”
“I don’t think we can,” Tiberius said softly. All of them stopped arguing with each other and fixed their sight on him. “I don’t think Octavius will ever give up,” he said.
“You don’t?” Appius said, leaving his mouth hanging open. “Now, wait, we just haven’t arrived at the right incentive, that’s all. How about we give him money, a great deal more than the Good Men offered him? Or, how about we give him land, land that is far away from any we hope to reclaim for the people.”
Tiberius shook his head, “The only incentive that would move him now is a lethal one.”
They all stared at him as if they didn’t know him.
“Oh, don’t gape at me like that, I don’t want to see Octavius come to any harm. He’s still my friend. We must accept, however, that he simply is not going to change his mind. And, it isn’t for the money, the land, or any reward that either we or the Optimates can offer him. Plainly, he’s made his decision, and that is that.”
“Then, what do you think we should do?” Appius asked.
Tiberius pressed his lips together in distaste. “I have some idea,” he said pensively, “but I have to think it through. Let’s meet tomorrow early morning. We can decide then, one way or another.”
The men gathered themselves together, traded hugs, and left. Tiberius was the last to embrace Appius and leave, followed by Hylas into the darkening streets, shadowed by Casca and his men.
Claudia entered his room late in the evening to find Tiberius sitting on the side of his bed, his back to the doorway. He seemed to be staring at the window painted on the wall, sitting in the same position he’d bee
n in when she’d left him an hour ago. Without a word, she silently glided past the end of the bed and sat softly next to him. She put her arm up and rested her hand gently on his shoulder.
“Tiberius?”
Without looking at her, he said, “It’s going badly, you know?”
She nodded, though he couldn’t see her, and said, “I know.”
“Nasica is a shrewd man. He recognized that Satureius would be quick to switch allegiance to the highest bidder. He couldn’t trust him to stand fast in front of a hostile mob.” He swung his head, “But Octavius, he knew. He knew that once given, Octavius would never break his word. To Octavius, it is a matter of honor and a way to show his courage. He would die before he gave either of them up.”
He lapsed into silence again.
“So,” she said, lifting her hand to stroke his hair, “what will you do?”
He breathed in, “What I have to do,” dropping his shoulders as he exhaled. “I wish Satureius had been Nasica’s man. It would have made it so much easier.”
She dropped her hand away from his head. “Why? What are you going to do?” she said, confused.
He looked at her for the first time. “You’re as bad as the others. Though, what I will be doing could be worse than death to poor Marcus.”
She appeared to be even more perplexed. Tiberius clasped her hand and shook it rhythmically as he said, “Tomorrow, I intend to sue for the people to strip Octavius of his tribuneship for obstructing their wishes.”
She pulled her hand away, now looking horrified, terrified. “You cannot do that!” she whispered. “No one has done that, ever.”
“There’s a first time for everything,” he said calmly. She stood up.
“But you will be breaking with tradition! Nasica, Rufus, and all of the other Optimates will castigate you for violating the Mos Maiorum. They might try to strip you of your office, they may even ostracize you and seize all you own!”
“Not if the people back me. If they do, the Senate won’t be able to do a thing. And, I believe that they will back me.”
“Oh, perhaps, but why take such a risk? You could lose everything, your family, your property—you could end up being Marcus Octavius! Why risk everything?”
“Because I must!” he cried out. “If I am able to do this, if we can get the land reform through, we can restore the people to their proper place, as fully vested citizens, not the chattel of the rich! We can change Rome forever by giving back to Romans their dignity and a true say in what becomes of them.”
She stepped back, saying, “You would be willing to lose your family, your children, and me?” Without waiting for him to answer, she turned and left the room.
Tiberius turned back to the window painted on the wall and placed his head in his hands.
In the morning, his entourage formed in the vestibulum, uneasy as they waited to leave for the Forum. Tiberius appeared before them looking as though he hadn’t slept the night before. Not long after Claudia had left his room, Polydius knocked on his door and said that Cornelia wished to see him. Seeing Polydius at such a late hour surprised Tiberius at first, since he had freed his old teacher after returning from Numantia. The old Greek had set up house on the Esquiline, though he did come to the Palantine to teach the boys. Tiberius quickly realized that Polydius’s presence that evening, most likely at his mother’s request, portended a more considered assessment of his decision. Sure enough, Cornelia sat in the center of her chamber with Appius on one side and Claudia on the other. Polydius silently moved behind Appius and Cornelia as if adding his de facto authority to their presence.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Cornelia said, “Claudia tells me you plan to be a fool tomorrow on the Rostrum.”
“My dear mother,” Tiberius said, “I might not be the man my father was, but I will never be a fool, either. You have seen to that much, at least.”
“You could ruin your entire term as tribune. Give up the lex agraria and find another way to take down the Good Men.”
“And, how do you propose I do that?”
She swung her head in frustration, “I don’t know. Offer the people something else, land somewhere else, but don’t try to take it from Nasica and the rest of them. Go after them later, separately. Together, they’re too strong! Tell him, Appius.”
Appius started. He gathered himself and said, “My dear Tiberius, your intentions are so good, so magnificent, but the Good Men are evil. As your most exceptional mother suggests, we must reconsider and find other ways to vex them.” His voice became imploring as he said, “Please, my son, let’s not wager everything on one roll of the dice. Think of the wellbeing of your family, your children, my daughter your wife.”
Tiberius gazed at him with troubled, tired eyes, and said, “Appius, I’m sorry, I cannot. This must be done no matter what personally is at stake for me―my wife, my children,” he looked at Claudia for an instance, then back to Appius and Cornelia, “even my most exceptional mother.” His eyes hardened as he continued, “Tomorrow, I will announce the posting of two bills, the first asking the people to depose Marcus Octavius. The second will be another lex agraria, though not the watered-down version we first presented. In the amended bill, compensation for those who surrender their illegally gained land will be smaller, and their children will receive nothing. Any who resist will be prosecuted at once; they will be the ones to risk losing everything. That’s the Lex Sempronia Agraria that the Optimates, the Good Men, will face. I will ask that both bills be voted upon consecutively, immediately after the feast days of Concordia, exactly three days after their posting. Plebeians will roar their wholehearted support, I am convinced this will happen. Regardless, this is what I will do, whether you support me or not.”
Tiberius paused, defiantly eyeing each one of them in turn. No one said a word. He resumed, “If you support me, you will rally our followers now. Sextus and the other equestrians need to make sure that the voters assemble today.”
Appius said, “Crassus and I will go to the Senate. Nasica may suffer an apoplectic attack. We’ll try to keep him and the other vipers in the basket. I’ll make a late-night private visit to Consul Scaveola tonight. Perhaps Crassus will come visit his brother, too.”
“Thank you, Father-in-law.” Tiberius leaned down to Cornelia. “And, you, Mother, will you give me your blessing?”
Cornelia lifted her eyes to his, almost as hardened. “You will always have my blessing, Tiberius, if only for trying. My only fear is that you will fail.”
Tiberius straightened up, “I won’t fail.”
He gazed at Claudia, “And, what of you, my beloved wife? Will you forgive me for creating doubt that I love you above all? If I have caused us to be torn apart by my choice, I am destroyed. But I must follow this path as the right course to take. Can you accept that it is ineluctable for me, a moral mandate intrinsic to the man you loved and married? Can you forgive me and support me even if it means that I have sacrificed our family in this effort?”
Tears streaming from her eyes, Claudia rose from her chair and raised her arms to wrap them around Tiberius’s neck. By then, she was openly sobbing, now, her torso undulating from each deep cry. Tiberius closed one arm around her waist and with the other held her head to his shoulder. Tears coursed down his cheeks as he whispered, “Oh, my love, my only love,” and guided her out of the room.
Among the men grouped in Tiberius’s vestibulum, no one seemed to express any enthusiasm for the upcoming engagement. Appius fidgeted with worry, while Crassus’s face went back and forth between pained concern and almost peevish anger. Blossius twitched nervously. Always the implacable Stoic, Diophanes displayed no emotion whatsoever. Sextus, a surprise visitor, appeared to be no more put out than usual, though the object of his annoyance this time centered on Tiberius. He made that clear in his brusque reply when Tiberius greeted him warmly.
No matter, thought Tiberius, they could be as miserable as they wanted. He wasn’t overjoyed either by the prospect of the mor
ning’s confrontation. But none of that mattered.
He glanced out the front door at Casca and Ajax, noticing that they, too, seemed the same as always. Ajax looked the affable night portator, while Casca looked ready to kill. Tiberius turned back to the men inside.
“All right. Let us begin.”
They marched somberly out together. Sextus mounted his horse, whirled it around once, and said, “This better work, Tribune.”
“Do your part, Eques.”
He rode off, hooves clattering down the stone road. The others walked briskly in his trail.
Halfway down the Palatine, Appius and Crassus peeled off to head for the Senate, passing by the other side of the marketplace. Tiberius and Blossius strode between the marketplace and the Temple of Jupiter to reach the Comitium near the Rostrum. Tiberius trotted up the steps of the Rostrum as Blossius climbed to a nearby seat in the amphitheater on the side opposite the Senate house.
Tiberius made his way to his curule chair and stood before it, gazing around. He was the first tribune to arrive, though it was likely that only a few would actually show up today. As his arguments with Octavius had dominated the Rostrum, some of the other tribunes began to absent themselves. Since today marked the eve of the Feast of Concordia, Tiberius wondered if anyone else would show. Would Marcus Octavius himself show?
Indeed, as he scanned the surroundings, he saw that very few street vendors were setting out their wares, and only a few had fired coals in their braziers to roast nuts or strips of meat for the assembled people. Looking toward the Senate building, he saw a few young priests preparing to render the auspices, with Nasica nowhere in sight. They lit their fires, raised their hoods over their heads, and lifted their hands to implore Jupiter and the other gods and goddesses to clarify their fate through the sacrifices they would make. Tiberius bowed while the birds were dispatched and opened. The priests signified that all was as it should be, and he turned to the front of the Rostrum. As he did, throngs of people entered the Comitium from every entrance and began to fill the seats. More showed to take places on the floor before him, and he could see horsemen on the fringes just outside of the Comitium walls. Sextus had done his part.