The Death of Marcellus

by Dan Armstrong

  Now six months after the surrender, those remaining in Capua were short on food and no better off than during the siege. When they heard that Laevinus was outside Capua on his way to Rome, a crowd of destitute Capuans ran from the city and swarmed around the consul-elect and his retinue. They complained bitterly about the treatment they had received from Fulvius, asking for pity and vital resources.

  Laevinus, not yet aware of the fires lit by the Calavii and their accomplices, gave in to the Capuans’ pleas and told them to follow him to Rome. On their behalf, he would ask the Senate for leniency, but only if they agreed to return to Capua within five days of hearing the Senate’s response.

  When Laevinus reached Rome, trailed by nearly one hundred Capuans, the contingent of Syracusans, who had also been waiting for his return, met him outside Porta Capena and filled his ears with complaints against Marcellus. The new consul promised them, as he had the Capuans, to bring their case to the Senate floor and provide them with a fair hearing.

  At dawn the next day, the Senate met in the Curia at the west end of the forum. The Sicilians and the Capuans were in the audience. I was there with my wax pad and stylus to take notes.

  The meeting began with Laevinus’ report on circumstances in Greece. He said that King Philip had stopped his attacks on the Aetolians and withdrawn to Macedonia. He advised bringing the legion that was in Greece back to Italy, but leaving the fleet, saying that would be enough to prevent Philip from returning to Aetolia.

  The Senate accepted Laevinus’ suggestions, and then began the process of assigning the existing twenty-one legions to the various needs of the war—fighting Hannibal in Italy, securing Sicily, containing the Carthaginian units in Spain, and putting down yet another of the periodic barbarian uprisings in the north.

  When nominations for the province of Spain were requested, no one came forward. After a lengthening period without a nomination, Publius Cornelius Scipio, a man only twenty-five years old, who had held no other ranking government position, emerged from the audience and asked to be considered as a candidate for the command in Spain. Scipio’s father and uncle, both members of the Senate and highly regarded generals, had recently been killed in Spain by forces commanded by Hannibal’s brother Hasdrubal.

  The handsome, long-haired Scipio stood in the center of the Senate floor and made his case. “I have just returned from Spain,” he began. “My father spent five years there, and I was with him almost all of that time. I know the region as well as anyone. I know the tribes and I’m familiar with their dialects. I have proven myself in battle countless times, including saving my father’s life at the battle of Ticinius when I was only seventeen. Who better than I to complete the job my father and uncle couldn’t.”

  The audience couldn’t resist this young man who spoke with such confidence and passion. They demonstrated with such clear approval that even the Senate was swept away. Licinius nominated him for the position, and Scipio carried a nearly unanimous vote. Marcellus would later condemn the choice. He felt Scipio was simply too inexperienced, and that sentimentality had tainted the vote.

  After all the provinces were assigned, a herald came forward with a ceramic bowl and a terracotta water pitcher containing two wooden lots—one labeled Italy, meaning command of the Italian peninsula, one labeled Sicily, meaning command of the western Mediterranean and the entire Roman navy. Laevinus, the patrician, and Marcellus, the plebeian, would receive their commands by lot.

  Marcellus did the honors. Marcus standing beside me in the audience grabbed my arm anticipating the moment. Although all had been arranged for his father to receive the consulship, the gods, it seemed, would ultimately make the decision on the location of his command. Marcellus didn’t hesitate. He poured the water from the pitcher into the bowl until one wooden lot fell out. He lifted the wet lot from the bowl and read it immediately. With no emotion in his voice he announced his command, “Sicily.”

  Marcus clenched my arm and cursed under his breath. Several men in the contingent from Syracuse shouted out against it.

  Laevinus didn’t bother to withdraw the second lot. Marcus turned to me shaking his head. “I don’t know how my father will bear another year in Sicily. I hope that drawing wasn’t rigged. I’m afraid good Fabius has his hands in so many pots no one but him knows what’s happening. They have accused my father of seeking a crown, but Fabius has already fitted it to his head.”

  Marcellus and Laevinus returned to their seats. Laevinus announced that the next order of business would be diplomatic affairs. He opened the floor to the Syracusans. As Marcellus had promised, he stood from his curule chair and removed himself to the far left of the chamber. Laevinus alone would act as judge.

  A nobleman from Syracuse, a Greek by the name of Leptines Pelopedias, strode to the center of the Senate floor, his anger evident. “Consul, Senators, citizens of Rome, you already know why there are so many of us from Syracuse here today. Your new consul Claudius Marcellus’ brutal treatment of our citizens during the siege and conquest of our city surpassed all need or decency.

  “I have been in Rome a month now. I have seen statues from our plazas and stone from our temples within your walls. How can this be? Syracuse was a longtime ally of Rome. King Hiero’s fifty years of rule included annual tributes of silver and gold to your treasury and countless divisions of soldiers for your wars. Then, when Carthaginian agents subverted our leadership and drew us into your war, upon their defeat, you stripped our city of everything as though you’d never known us. Look into this audience. Look closely.” Five of the Syracusans stepped forward. Each was missing a limb or exposing some gruesome scarred over wound. “This is the work of Marcellus and his soldiers. He tortured men loyal to Rome. He destroyed a city that there was no need to destroy. He sought to glorify himself with our treasures so that he might be named consul—and sent to of all places—our home. Again! We would rather be subjected to the fires of Etna than be placed under the rule of a man as harsh and unmoving as Marcellus. This man should not be granted a consulship. Please prove the wisdom of your elders by stripping him of his office.”

  Pelopedias turned to glare at Marcellus, then walked from the floor. Four more speakers followed, saying much the same thing—relating stories of Marcellus’ cruelty, bemoaning his avarice for what was sacred to them, wailing in horror at the prospect that he might be returning. They accused Marcellus of being disingenuous during their talks with him. They contended that they had made several offers to Marcellus that would have led to a more peaceful settlement and less damage to the city. Because the accusations were being pushed by certain powerful people in Rome, the statements by the Syracusans were filled with exaggerations and an excess of theatric lament.

  When the last speaker finished, Laevinus requested that the Syracusans leave the chamber while the Senate listened to Marcellus’ defense.

  Marcellus immediately stepped forward. “There is no reason for them to leave. I was present when they stated their grievances. They should hear what I have to say.”

  Laevinus told the Syracusans they were welcome to stay and gave the floor to Marcellus.

  “Conquest is never easy,” he said, speaking calmly and without undo emotion. “Forcefully changing the leadership of a city is invariably full of complications. Complaints against the new administration are to be expected.

  “To these people of Syracuse, I say whatever inconveniences they were made to suffer are common to war. Their city had been given over to enemies of Rome, and alliances that earlier city fathers had made with Rome were broken by these Carthaginian agents. What was done to wrest control from these men was absolutely necessary, and as far as I could tell, well within reasonable expectations considering the circumstances.

  “It is a fact that Syracuse was for some time a battlefield. That can never be easy on the inhabitants of a city. And when the fighting ended, as is our custom, my men were given an opportunity for plunder.” He spread his hands out before him, as to say this is the way it
is. “Can I answer to every error of judgment by my men, every broken door, every abused woman? No. It would be impossible for any general to do that under the conditions that existed in Syracuse or almost any other captured city.”

  Marcellus paused to look into the faces of the men making the accusations, then the men seated in the Senate. “When I arrived in Syracuse, I made two sincere efforts to secure a peaceful surrender of the city, and only when both were refused did I begin the siege. When the siege was completed, I did everything in my power to keep wrongful pillaging to a minimum. But again this is part of the process of war. Kindness and generosity are not to be expected. When I left Syracuse seven months ago, I left with a clear conscience. I did what had to be done. What I took in plunder did in no way cover the cost in human lives or materiel of forcing the Carthaginians out of Syracuse—a task all Sicily should be grateful is complete. Did brutalities occur? Were innocence people victimized? Yes, but I cannot apologize for the necessities of war.”

  For all the acrimony that had been leveled at this man earlier in the assembly, the calm manner in which he answered his accusers was remarkable. All those men who had spoken against him now hung their heads. For in his presence alone, devoid of anger or arrogance, Marcellus had demonstrated that what had been said before was either overstated or irrelevant.

  After speaking, Marcellus was asked to leave the building, as were those who had made the accusations. I remained to take notes. Laevinus led the discussion. From what I heard, Marcellus had nearly as many enemies in the Senate as he did allies.

  Manlius Torquatus spoke extensively on the side of the Sicilians. He had been one of the Roman nobles who had given them housing while they waited for Laevinus’ return.

  “We must remember that Syracuse at the time of Marcellus’ siege was under the control of Carthaginian subversives who lied and cheated their way into power. They were the ones who rejected Marcellus’ offers of peace, not the men who have come here today. Marcellus should have taken that into account. He should have realized that once the tyrants were dead Syracuse would return to her loyal ways. Instead of ransacking the city as though it were Carthage itself, he should have returned the city to these noblemen as he would to friends, hoping to renew our alliances rather than creating this unnecessary rancor. These people were once loyal allies.”

  “He should have been there,” I whispered to Marcus.

  Marcus nodded. “Manlius may still be unhappy that Fabius used him as a pawn in his game of thrones.”

  Laevinus had the best of Roman pedigrees. He was a fair man, five years Marcellus’ junior. He had been in Greece the past year and had not been party to the intrigues swirling around his colleague. With his leadership, the Senate found Marcellus not guilty. His position as a consul would not be taken away.

  When the Sicilians and Marcellus returned to the room, and the findings were announced, many of the Sicilians appealed with tears in their eyes to Marcellus for forgiveness. They now saw that Publius Lentulus had stirred them up for political reasons related to issues in Rome. They had undergone hard times and were unusually vulnerable to his manipulation. Marcellus said he understood their plight. He accepted their apology, and even their complaints, but added that “war is war.”

  After the Sicilians had filed out, the Capuans came forward. Two noblemen and four merchants spoke to the Senate. They said many of the same things the Syracusans had said, but leveled their grievances at Quintus Fulvius Flaccus, the commander who had overseen the siege and its aftermath. They brought forth their crippled and their scarred. They told heart-wrenching stories, several times breaking down in tears. The last speaker emphasized that they were closer neighbors and longer allies to Rome than Syracuse, and that they deserved more sympathy.

  Fulvius wasn’t present to hear these grievances. The Senate didn’t feel that the situation was so serious that he should leave his command in Capua, so they asked Marcus Atilius Regulus, a tribune under Fulvius at the time of Capua’s surrender, to comment on the Capuans’ complaints.

  Atilius repeated what Marcellus said about the collateral damage of a siege and the necessity for plunder in its aftermath. He added that Hannibal had been directly engaged against the Roman siege and that the Capuans had remained loyal to the Carthaginian until the very end. He felt they deserved the treatment that Fulvius had administered. As a way of comparison, he mentioned two women, Vestia Oppia of Atella and an ex-prostitute Paula Cluvia, who had spared no effort in their support of Rome though living in Capua at the time.

  The deliberations didn’t take long. The fires set by Capuans eliminated any chance of leniency on the part of the Senate. The Capuans were sent away with a stinging lecture about loyalty to Rome. The verdict was unanimous; what they got was what they deserved. The women, Vestia and Paula, were given honorary citizenship to Rome and their confiscated possessions were returned.

  The next order of business was a report from the pontifex maximus on the prodigies observed over the last year.

  Marcus leaned close to me and in a hushed voice offered some background. “Prodigies in the Roman culture are instances where some extreme or unexplained event has occurred. They are considered acts of the gods, and each one is recorded and archived by the College of Pontiffs. At the beginning of each year, all the prodigies are reviewed before the Senate. That’s what Licinius is about to do now.”

  Licinius went to the podium in the center of the Senate floor to make his report. “Welcome Marcus Claudius Marcellus and Marcus Valerius Laevinus,” he began. “It is an honor for me as pontifex maximus to deliver this report to you and to the Senate. The following events were reported to the College of Pontiffs during the two hundred and ninety-eighth year of the Republic and are judged prodigies. We seek agreement on a proper response to these acts of the gods.”

  Licinius read from a list, accenting his words with his right hand, which seemed to flutter around him like a bird as he spoke. “The statue of Victory on the gable of the Temple of Concord was struck by lightning on the nones of November. The statue was dislodged from the peak, but got caught in the decorative gutters and didn’t fall to the ground. It was repaired two weeks after the lightning strike. On that same day, the walls of the cities of Fregellae and Anagia were also struck by lightning. The damage has yet to be repaired. An entire day in September, streams of blood flowed in the Forum Subtertanum. During the summer, it rained stones in Eretum, and in Reate, a mule had a foal.”

  Licinius paused to allow a resident of Reate to come forward. Many in the audience gasped as the mule and foal were led to the center of the Senate floor. The senators were given a chance to inspect the mule, but no one did and the animals were taken away. Licinius continued.

  “In the opinion of the College of Pontiffs, these prodigies suggest great displeasure in the gods for the current state of the war with Carthage. The dislodging of Victory must be considered a warning that Rome courts disaster if she cannot find an answer to the Carthaginian invasion. The raining of stones and the river of blood forewarn widespread death in the Republic. The times are fraught with danger. The gods need appeasement. The College of Pontiffs advises the sacrifice of two mature black oxen to the gods Jupiter, Minerva, and Juno three days hence before the temple on the Capitoline Hill.”

  The ensuing discussion bordered on the absurd as a string of senators offered their interpretations of the prodigies. In the end, the Senate voted unanimously to follow the advice of the pontiffs. I watched Marcellus the entire time. I was certain he felt as I did. Lightning strikes were simply acts of nature, not comments by the gods. The other prodigies were no more than exaggerations of common events. Hail described as stones. The erosion of iron-rich dirt into the tributary that flowed beneath the forum gave the water a hint of red. And the mule had probably been in the stable at the time of the birth of the foal and a mix-up had ensued. All of it was nonsense to me, but Marcellus attended to his duties with a stone face, and one would have assumed he accepted the pontiff�
�s report at face value, as Marcus did.

  Rome was cast in a late-sunset lavender when the last senators filed out of the Curia, talking with each other, discussing the day’s events. Marcus and I waited for Marcellus. He came out with Laevinus. They joined us at the edge of the forum.

  Marcus had taken the assignment to Sicily harder than his father, at least visibly. “Was it really just the lots, Father?” he asked immediately.

  “And the implication is?” Marcellus replied, reading everything his son intended into the question.

  Not fully aware of Marcellus’ desire to track down Hannibal, Laevinus said absently, “I never thought to look at the other lot.”

  “And what need would there be for that?” Quintus Fabius strode up to our group of four.

  Marcus visibly bristled, but left the question unanswered out of respect for the senior senator.

  I had never seen Fabius up close. Despite his more than seventy years, he radiated vitality. There was color in his face and his eyes sparkled with intelligence the way Archimedes’ had. Though I was a freedman among citizens and a youth among elders, Marcellus introduced me to Laevinus and Fabius.

  Laevinus gave me a nod of acknowledgment, but Fabius smiled. “This must be the young man you’ve spoken so highly of, Marcellus. The one who apprenticed with Archimedes and knows the deeper subtleties of geometry and mathematics. I’m honored.”

  “The honor is mine, sir. But I should clarify. While I did learn a lot from Archimedes, I wasn’t his apprentice, only his slave—until Marcellus gave me the gift of freedom.”

  “And this is your son, Marcellus?” continued Fabius politely. “Is Marcus not a tribune now?”

  “Yes, since our return.”

  Fabius stepped in closer to the group. “I trust I can speak freely here?” He looked at Laevinus then Marcellus.