by Jack Ludlow
‘You must make your way in the world, Marcellus. I am bound to assist you by the vows I made to your father, but the most compelling oath I swore, in his presence, was to uphold the power and majesty of Rome. Do not thrust scrolls at me which ease the lives of slaves, and demand laws that could fracture the fragile structure that holds the entire state together.’
‘I am concerned for my father’s honour.’
‘And Rome?’
‘Rome’s honour is at stake here too.’
Quintus laughed at that. ‘Honour? Rome has power, Marcellus. We are absolved of the need for honour. Surely your father taught you that.’
Marcellus pulled himself fully upright, as if standing to attention. It was bad enough that his father had died before he could complete his life’s work, but to have this, his last act as a senatorial commissioner, set aside, like the work of a freedman clerk, was intolerable.
‘To have heard one of the leading magistrates at Rome utter such words makes me ashamed.’
Quintus, who was thinking that for all his height he was a pious little shit, brushed aside the approbation. ‘You are young. It is right that you should have high ideals. I held to the same tenets, myself, at your age, but I am now older and wiser, just as your father was. He didn’t let honour stop him when he needed to protect the Republic.’
Marcellus made to speak, but Quintus silenced him, pointing to the pile of scrolls held by one of the lictors.
‘Look at those, Marcellus. Every one is a plea from the Governor of Hispania Citerior, Servius Caepio, asking for legions to quell a new revolt. I helped to get him appointed. Servius is clever. He managed one thing few of his predecessors achieved by bringing some order to the frontier in Spain. It seems only days ago that he looked set to bring about a more permanent peace, but now, all that is changed. The place is on fire again, if anything, worse than before, which is only one problem amongst many that I must face in my consular year.’
Quintus paused, looking worried, as if the weight of all those responsibilities was a burden too heavy to bear, but he recovered and fixed Marcellus with a hard, unyielding look.
‘When your affairs in Rome are settled, you must take up your duties. I have enough honour to remember mine, to recall the vows I made in this very room. You need a military posting by which you can advance your career. You will soon have your orders, appointing you as one of my tribunes. We march for Spain in a matter of days. When you have held your funeral feast, received the contents of your father’s will, and put the affairs of the house of Falerii in order, then join us.’
‘And the agreement with the Sicilian slaves?’
‘Let us be successful in the field, Marcellus.’ He pointed to the scroll, still open in the young man’s hand, with Lucius’s seal at the bottom — the agreement he had made to ameliorate the lot of the slaves in return for their passive surrender. ‘Then we can return, so potent that no one would dare block any motion we put to the house, even one as hare-brained as that.’
That last, careless remark betrayed him: Quintus would do nothing. The aspiring consul departed and Marcellus was left with his last words, delivered in that mock-jolly tone, accompanied by the kind of playful punch an adult uses to impress a child.
‘We’ll go to war and show them what we’re made of, eh?’
Quintus was thinking, as he walked down the street, that an impetuous young man like Marcellus could get into some very dangerous situations, but the boy, no doubt, craved success. As his commanding general, and his patron, he felt he should do all in his power to aid him. If Marcellus succeeded, he would be grateful, and if he died a glorious death, he, Quintus Cornelius, would be spared a future thorn in the flesh.
Marcellus watched him go, aware for the first time of just how naked his father’s death had left him. The argument he had just had with Valeria was a blessing, and it was at that moment he decided to go ahead with his marriage to the Claudian girl. He would need her dowry in the future, if he were to have any hope of standing against men like Quintus. She would have to wait a while, till he came back from his first campaign, but he would reassure her father this very day. The second decision he made was just as important; he put aside all thoughts of burning any of the documents in the cellar.
CHAPTER FIVE
‘Are you sure this is the right list, Quintus?’ asked Claudia, waving the scroll she had just read at him.
‘What do you mean?’
‘If we were in a stable I would say you’d assembled, for my edification, all the spavined nags and blown stallions in the whole of Italy.’
Actually, for her purpose, the list was perfect. The last thing she wanted was some stalwart husband, full of ardour; she wanted someone meek, malleable and preferably stupid. In her opinion, finding such a creature should be no problem in the Senate. Like her list, it was full of them.
‘I have complied with your own wishes, Lady.’
She nearly laughed. He was so serious and stiff, forever striking a pose in his new consular toga, fiddling with the thick purple stripe along the edge, but she fought back the temptation. ‘We must invite them to dine then, so that I can look them over.’
‘There’s no time for that, Claudia. I march for the north within the week and I do think it will be difficult for you to invite anyone to the house with no men around. It would cause a scandal.’
Cunning swine! she thought. He’s got somebody picked out already. But there was no hint of that thought in her reply, more a feigned anxiety. ‘North? I thought you were sailing for Spain, and not for at least a month.’
Quintus threw his head back slightly, as though he were being sculpted for a marble bust. ‘There’s trouble on all the borders. We march to Massila, effecting a demonstration for the tribes of Cisalpine Gaul, a reminder that they should stay on their own side of the border.’
‘Then should I wait till you return, Quintus?’ Claudia asked in a meek voice.
‘No!’ He snapped, reacting too quickly, which he tried to cover with a winning smile; all it did was to make him look like a thief. ‘It’s up to you, of course, but you did give me the impression that it was a matter of some urgency.’
Claudia put as much sensuality and longing into her reply as she could, causing her stepson to blush. ‘Oh, it is, Quintus. You’ve no idea how I long for a man to take care of me.’
‘Yes, well, as you say,’ he stuttered, reaching for the reassurance of the edge of his toga.
‘Perhaps then we could go through the list and see who you think will be suitable.’
That restored him; indeed he could hardly contain his eagerness. ‘There are one or two on there who I think would be eminently so.’
Her silent thoughts were again in total conflict with her smiling face. Putty in your hands, you mean. Well that suits me, pig, for if they’ll grovel to you, they’ll very likely grovel to me as well.
‘I chafe for action.’
Titus smiled at his stepmother, mightily amused by Cholon’s words, as well as the languid wave of his arm. ‘One campaign in Sicily, without bloodshed, and you’ve become a warrior.’
‘I cannot see myself armed,’ Cholon replied, quite missing the irony, ‘but being in such danger, surrounded by the threat of imminent war, excited me.’
‘I should write a comedy about it, Cholon,’ said Claudia. ‘After all, no one ever has.’
The Greek sat up suddenly. ‘You have hit on a brilliant idea!’
‘Interesting, Cholon, hardly brilliant,’ said Titus.
Claudia looked at him with mock-seriousness. ‘Can you not see your stepmother as brilliant?’
‘Radiant, perhaps, Claudia,’ replied Titus gallantly.
‘Not a play,’ said Cholon, still lost in his reverie. ‘Something more substantial.’ Both his fellow diners looked bemused. ‘Plays are ephemeral, not meant to last.’
‘I doubt Euripides would agree,’ Claudia chided, with a smile.
‘He stuck to the eternal verities and, between
them, my Greek forefathers quite used them all up. There’s little serious left to write about, especially for the theatre, but what of a history?’
Titus gave Claudia a perplexed look before replying. ‘A history?’
Cholon was excited, so much so that he passed up the usual sarcastic riposte that would normally have followed from Titus repeating what he had just said. ‘Of course, the proper account of a real campaign, like Herodotus and Ptolemy. Who fought and where, the numbers involved, with none of that exaggeration that so plagued the likes of Homer.’
‘Are there any Greek writers you admire?’ asked Claudia, who was unusual in many ways, not least in that, for a woman of her class, she was well read.
‘Of course there are,’ replied Cholon, with an arch expression, but he didn’t go on to name them. ‘You will go on campaign, Titus, will you not?’
‘To do what you suggest would be better realised at the side of a general.’
‘Which you will be in three years.’
Titus shrugged. ‘That is in the lap of the gods, and, of course, my brother. Quintus wasn’t too keen on my being a magistrate at all. I don’t know if he’ll back me for the consulship.’
‘Lucius Falerius’s death hasn’t helped you,’ said Claudia.
The Greek cut in, practically snorting with indignation. ‘You can’t rely on him, I agree, but you do yourself no favours, Titus. For instance, you could cultivate important people, instead of snubbing them, which, I may say, is your usual way.’
‘I promise you, Cholon. If I get a command, you can come with me.’
‘Good,’ replied the Greek, eagerly, ‘but you will forgive me if I take a few precautions, just in case you don’t.’
‘Then you agree, Lady, to marry Lucius Sextius Paullus?’
His impatience grated on her. Quintus would never have dared to treat another man this way, however dull his wits, but her stepson suffered from the same natural prejudice as most of his gender; he assumed that all women were stupid. In the case of his silly wife, he was right, which made the final condition she intended to extract all the more pleasurable, but first she must seem reluctant, a poor woman who needed to be persuaded.
‘Is he not much older than me?’
It was delicious to see how shocked he was. ‘You would not wish a husband younger than you, Claudia. That would be most improper.’
She dropped her eyes in submission. ‘Of course, how silly of me.’
‘Besides, he’s a fine figure of a man. What dignity he has. How many men can boast such a noble profile? That mass of silver hair makes him stand out from any crowd and he is rich, Lady, so you’ll want for nothing.’
He’s also as supine as a cub and as dull and pompous as you, she thought, but she smiled again when she spoke out loud. ‘Do you think he’ll agree?’
‘My dear Claudia, you underrate yourself. You are still a very handsome woman. Sextius will be flattered.’
‘You cannot be sure.’
That speared him; she could see the mind working flat out to counter that objection, but he could hardly tell her that Lucius Sextius Paullus would do exactly what Quintus Cornelius, the newly elected consul, told him to do.
‘I must make a confession,’ he said smoothly, ‘for the very thought you have espoused did worry me. I could not see you risk a rebuff, so, I took the liberty of sounding out Sextius Paullus in advance.’
‘You shame me, Quintus!’ she cried, her hands going to her mouth.
‘Do I?’ He was confused. Not having done any such thing, he was wondering what the result would have been if he had. ‘It was not my intention.’
‘Well, now I have no choice. You have forced my hand.’
‘I apologise, most heartily,’ Quintus replied swiftly, trying to keep the triumph out of his voice.
Claudia’s voice changed completely and her simpering tone went, to be replaced by the true timbre, strong and direct. ‘And because you have done this, Quintus, I must extract one more condition from you before we proceed.’
‘What?’
She looked him right in the eye, not in the least deflected by his obvious anger. ‘I want you to swear, before witnesses, that you will do everything you can to help Titus to the consulship.’
‘Titus?’
She couldn’t resist being sarcastic. ‘You may recall him. He’s your brother.’
‘I know who he is!’ Quintus shouted. ‘Did he put you up to this?’
‘Would you believe me if I said no?’
‘I agree.’
He said it suddenly, which caught her off guard, but the look in his eye was enough to tell Claudia he had no intention of complying. Once the wedding was over, he would renege, no matter to whom he swore an oath and he did not think she had it in her power to force him. Time to disabuse her stepson of that notion.
‘That pleases me, Quintus, and I know you will keep your word. After all, you are one of the few people alive who realise the harm that I, provoked beyond endurance, can do to the Cornelii name.’ He went white and she could see him beginning to explode. ‘I think it would be a good idea to fetch Lucius Sextius Paullus, don’t you?’
‘There is nothing you can do,’ said Cholon, shrugging. ‘If Quintus will not move this bill in the house.’
‘Cholon is right, Marcellus.’
‘You should attend to your guests and put the matter out of your mind.’
Marcellus sighed. If these two said it was hopeless, then it must be so. ‘Titus, since your brother is absent, would you do me the honour of sitting at my right hand?’
‘The honour is mine,’ Titus replied with a slight bow.
He knew as well as his young host just how comprehensively the boy had been insulted. Quintus, who would have crawled to attend upon Lucius when he was alive, had, by pleading pressure of work, declined an invitation to the first dinner Marcellus was hosting as his own man.
Just then, he was distracted from the discussion as Marcellus caught the eye of Valeria’s father, who had practically stormed out of the house earlier, and had only been restrained by his friends, who had reminded him of the harm he would do to his house by insulting the host. Marcellus had been a little ingenuous when the man had mentioned marriage with his daughter, disabusing him of the idea, in a voice that sounded stuffed with pride, but was in reality full of pain. Truly, the youngster had reasoned, coming upon your inheritance was not the bed of roses it had, at first, appeared. And he still had to face Valeria!
‘Odd, Marcellus reminds me a little of your father,’ said Cholon, as they walked back to their respective homes. ‘You do too, of course.’
‘He asked me all about him when we first met. Told me that Father was the noblest Roman he’d ever met.’
‘The boy was right in that!’ said the Greek, proudly.
Titus put a hand on his shoulder. ‘I wonder whether nobility is an asset in these times.’
Cholon stopped as they were crossing the Forum Romanum, right outside the Curia Hostilia, home to the Senate, and looked Titus in the eye. ‘I think the late Lucius Falerius was right. You’re so lucky, you Romans! How many times have you stood on the threshold of disaster, only to find that the very man capable of saving you is at hand, merely waiting for the summons? No other state has had such good fortune.’
‘Careful Cholon, or you’ll be saying we Romans are doing something right.’
‘Much as it pains me to admit it, Titus, I think you are.’ He pointed to the building behind. ‘There’s more corruption and venality in that building than there is anywhere in the world, yet the same system that produces them, produces the likes of Marcellus and you.’
‘I agree about Marcellus,’ said Titus quickly.
Cholon grinned, his teeth showing white in the light from the torches in the Forum walls.
‘Your father couldn’t bear a compliment either, but he was there, like you and Marcellus, standing by to take over if the Republic faltered. That is your Roman strength. You have created a s
ystem that encourages corruption, that makes men rich beyond the dreams of avarice, yet when it becomes too rotten to sustain, when the fabric tears, it falls into the hands of men of honour, men who would not sully their hands with a bribe.’
Titus tapped him on the chest. ‘You are, like all Greeks, an incurable romantic. One day the gods will decide they’ve had enough of us Romans. One day these honourable men will fail.’
‘Then let the gods beware,’ said Cholon, who had probably drunk more than was good for him.
‘Are we not too close to a temple for such impiety?’
Cholon grinned again. ‘What has a Greek got to fear from a Roman temple? After all, you’re mere barbarians.’
‘Of course I wish you joy,’ said Titus, though his face could not help but betray his true feelings regarding someone like Sextius Paullus.
‘And me too,’ added Cholon.
‘You think I’ve made a poor choice?’ asked Claudia. They both gave a negative reply in unison, but in a flustered way. ‘Good. Then I would like you to give me away, Titus. I could not bear it if Quintus had the honour.’
The air of congratulation did not last a second after they had left her room.
‘The man’s a buffoon!’
Cholon looked at Titus, who was confused rather than angry. ‘I fear I am to blame. I suggested it in the first place.’
‘Sextius Paullus!’
That annoyed Cholon, who knew the bridegroom to be an empty vessel, a handsome spineless nobody with money, and a pederast, to boot. ‘What do you take me for, an idiot?’
‘I’m beginning to wonder if Claudia has lost her wits.’
The Greek emitted a small but potent moan. ‘One evening with Sextius should convince her that she has done just that.’
Titus shrugged. ‘It is, of course, her life.’
Cholon looked at the heavens, as if seeking support. ‘Let’s just hope she doesn’t invite us to dine with him too often.’
‘Lucky Quintus,’ said Titus, mournfully. ‘Suddenly a year of hard campaigning in Spain sounds very enticing.’