by Ian Miller
"I've seen no stuttering fool," Gaius replied calmly.
The man stared at him almost in disbelief, but before he could say anything further, a voice could be heard outside the library, "Gaius! Get your arse out here or I'll . . ."
It was never clear what the threat entailed, because the imperious young man spun on his heel and rushed towards the doorway. There was an immediate sound of running and a sequence of cries of pain, diminishing in intensity as the footsteps clearly took the additional person away from the library as quickly as humanly possible.
"Th thank you."
Gaius looked up and smiled. "I merely told the truth," he shrugged.
"I d d do stutter."
"Yes, but if you knew where these scrolls were, you can't be a fool," Gaius shrugged. "I guess you're Claudius?"
"I g guess you're G gaius Claudius?"
"Fairly obvious, isn't it?"
"If y you like, I'll get you some more scrolls? Y you might find them interesting."
"I'd like that," Gaius replied, "but that noise before was my Grammaticus. I think he'll be back, and he'll be angry."
"G g gaius'll put the fear of the G gods into him," Gaius' new friend grinned. "He won't dare!"
Claudius was correct. Gaius was able to spend the remains of the afternoon in the library, reading about things he had never considered to exist, and to which his Grammaticus had certainly never alluded.
When he did return to his quarters, his Grammaticus was furious, and after bawling Gaius out for not being available, he lashed out with a whip several times. Gaius had to bear this; his father had ordered him to obey. Eventually, as blood began to run down Gaius' legs, the Grammaticus stopped and stormed out of the room. Just as Gaius was beginning to rub something on his legs a young man entered, carrying a scroll for Gaius to read. Gaius thanked him, and sat down to read.
First there was a note. "If you want to know the size of the Earth, why not know the size of everything else! – C". Gaius smiled, and looked at the scroll. It was a description of work by the Greek Aristarchus. Almost three hundred years ago he had worked out by geometry that the Moon was about half the size of the Earth. Two people watched an eclipse of the Moon from different parts of Greece, and they carefully measured the angles just as the eclipse started. They then had two angles and the distance between themselves, so the distance, hence the size of the Moon could be measured.
Aristarchus then argued that the Moon travelled around the Earth once a month, and both travelled around the sun, taking a year to make the journey. The sun was considerably further away than the Moon. To measure the relative distances, he waited until half-moon, at which time the angle Sun-Moon-Earth must be a right angle. By measuring the angle between the moon and the sun, he could get the ratio. The angle was 87 degrees, so from Pythagoras' theorem, the sun was twenty times further away from the Earth than the moon.
Gaius was at first stunned, then he snorted. The angle 87 degrees was so close to a right angle that the Greek must have got it all wrong, then suddenly he stopped to think. If it were 89 degrees, say, it would be much further away. Even if he were correct, that meant it had to be so much larger than the moon. It looked to be the same size as the moon in a solar eclipse, or so they said, but if it was twenty times further away, it had to be twenty times larger!
There seemed to be something wrong with all that. They were obviously the same distance away since they both went around the Earth in roughly the same time, but . . . No! The argument was the Earth was spinning, and the Moon went around the Earth in a month. That was just so confusing! Except, deep down, it had a certain logic to it. Then again, if the reason why there was a half phase was because the sunlight struck the Moon side on, which is what Aristarchus said, then the Moon would be a sphere too, just like the Earth. With a start, he wondered whether it was in any way like the Earth.
And if the Moon was as big as the Earth, then the sun had to be immense! And if . . . But this was a waste of time. Too many ifs and buts, and anyway, who cared? Rome was built on stones and the sword.
Chapter 4
Gaius was almost late for the family meeting with the Princeps. He had dressed formally in his toga and was about to proceed towards the meeting when he received a formally written note, under an impressive looking seal: "Dress in tunic, not toga. Ti. Clavd. Drv." So he had to dress again. His family was staring around, clearly agitated and clearly looking for him, when he entered. He was so conscious of the welts on his legs, and the expression on his father's face showed that they were rather obvious.
But this was of little concern to Gaius. He looked up at the rostrum to see three people staring at him with three quite different expressions. On the right sat the stutterer, who gave him a nod and a wink of encouragement, and who seemed to be remarkably pleased with himself. On the left was Gaius Caesar, who had the sour look of someone forced to be somewhere where only bad could come to him, and who was anything but pleased at the prospect of what was to come. But on the largest and central chair, underneath the great eagle, was the old man from the library. Only Tiberius would sit in that chair! Now he knew why Gaius Caesar had been afraid; he had called Tiberius a snivelling idiot, in his hearing. But this man looked nothing like the image on the coins. He looked old and weary! Then suddenly the true importance of his position struck him. He had had the rather dubious pleasure of discussing Tiberius' German campaign with Tiberius himself. He almost froze but the words of Libo came back to him. Act like a soldier, show no fear. Gaius quickly made a formal bow, and stepped towards his family.
"So," Tiberius said in a droll voice, "this annoying stub of the Claudian gens has finally assembled." His eyes scanned across them, and muttered, "What a miserable looking lot!"
Gaius remembered the advice Libo had given him. No, he was not going to look miserable. He stood, his head held high.
"And you, I suppose," Tiberius stared at the Grammaticus, "are the one who got Little Boots all riled up?" The Grammaticus was studying the floor, Gaius noted. "And I presume you're also responsible for that boy's legs?" Silence. "Well?" Tiberius snarled in a quiet voice.
"I, I, er . . ."
"Presumably through some noble activity such as using the practice swords?" Tiberius added in a tone as if he could not care less.
"Er, yes, Princeps," the Grammaticus finally muttered.
"I thought as much," Tiberius remarked. "You!" he said, now pointing towards Gaius, "You read about the campaign?"
"Yes, Princeps."
"So, pretend you're the commander. You get to the river, what do you do?"
"Set up camp and fortify," Gaius replied quickly.
"Then?"
"I would cut down forest around the camp, and within the fortifications, build rafts," Gaius said simply.
"You would float downstream?" Tiberius asked, in some surprise. "You would do that rather than come over the Alps?"
"Yes, although of course there may be factors I have not considered."
"And why not the Alps?"
"The paths narrow," Gaius said. "That was known at the time. Too much risk of ambush. With rafts, the river would carry us at a speed the Germans could never match."
"You realize I took the Alps?" Tiberius asked.
"Yes Princeps."
"So you think I was wrong?"
"No, Princeps."
"No? How come?"
"We know your method worked," Gaius remarked, "whereas we have no idea what would come from a river-borne escape. If it works, it can't be wrong."
"But you still say, the river?"
"When the decision has to be made, I wouldn't know whether the alpine route would work either," Gaius said. Murmurs arose from some of those present in the background. A boy questioning Tiberius? Gaius' father was appalled.
"There was a lot of discussion at the time," Tiberius noted dryly, his gaze passing over those in the background and immediately silencing them. "The issue was by no means clear-cut." He nodded, and turned his gaze back t
o the boy. "So, at least we've established you're no sycophant. Are you a liar?"
"No, Princeps!" Gaius replied quietly but firmly.
"Someone is," Tiberius snorted. "You claim you've had sword training by this man Libo?"
"Yes, Princeps."
"Then show me. Centurion!" Tiberius pointed to one of the Praetorian guards, who stepped forward, carrying two of the lead-weighted wooden practice swords and two shields. He handed a sword and shield to the boy, then stepped back. After Gaius had secured the shield, Tiberius nodded. Suddenly the Centurion swung his arm back, to smash the sword down on Gaius' head. In an instant, Gaius stepped forward, raised the shield, and thrust, throwing everything his shoulders and hips could give. The Centurion's blow sent his shield falling backwards as the point of his sword struck the leather armour, and the centurion swore. Gaius flinched, waiting for retribution.
"Well?" Tiberius asked.
"That would kill," the Centurion nodded.
"Then, young Claudius, no need to flinch," Tiberius snorted. "A Praetorian gains no credibility by refusing to die in practice. Indeed," he added coldly, "we might do it for real, to show him that he can't. Well, don't just stand there! Get on with it!"
Gaius stepped back and readjusted his shield. The Centurion advanced, swung out wide, and struck. In a flash, Gaius thrust his shield to block the blow, and thrust again with everything he had, the point catching the Centurion under the rib cage, doubling him up. The Centurion stepped back, then suddenly Gaius realized what was happening. The Centurion was going through a practice sequence similar to what Libo had shown. He knew what was coming next. Then he saw the Centurion's eyes; a slight show of cunning. As he advanced, Gaius started what he was expected to do, namely thrust straight forward with the shield, but then just as impact should have occurred, he pulled back, and as the Centurion pushed on nothing and slightly lost balance in going forward too far, Gaius slammed the shield across and thrust again, the point going slightly upwards and into the ribs.
"Stop!" Tiberius called. He looked at the boy. "Why did you do that?"
"I saw his eyes," Gaius replied calmly. "I knew . . ."
"I see," Tiberius interrupted. He turned his eyes towards the Grammaticus. "You must be a good swordsman," he mused. "Give him your sword and shield, boy." Gaius handed the items over to his now bemused and fearful teacher. "Now," Tiberius said in a droll tone, "at last we can have some fun. Boy, your domain is that mosaic you're standing on, bounded by the brown border. You understand that?"
"Yes, Princeps."
"You will fight your Grammaticus," Tiberius said with a shrug. "If you leave your domain, you lose, and may make no further defence." He turned towards the Grammaticus and said, "You may use any amount of the floor you like. The boy may not follow you off his domain, and if you win, you can do what you like with him. Rape him there on the floor. Split his little arse, what do you say, Little Boots?" He turned with a sneer towards the younger man to his side, who looked a little bemused. "Oh, come, come, Little Boots, it's what you'd do, so don't sit there and snivel!" He turned back towards Gaius, and said calmly, "You don't get a shield, either. So you stand there looking stupid, and he'll smash you to pulp. Run, and Little Boots here'll hold you down, and when your Grammaticus is finished, he'll have his hour or so. Understand?"
Gaius stood there. He glanced towards his family, who were terrified. He remembered what Libo had said, and he was not to be cowed. "Yes, Princeps."
"And just what exactly do you think you're doing?" Tiberius sneered as the Grammaticus had begun to advance. "Eager to start, eh? I like that!"
"Please, Princeps, don't. He's only a boy. Let me . . ." Gaius' father pleaded.
"Quiet!" Tiberius roared. "Now, young Gaius, you told me you had been taught by one of my old legionnaires?"
"Yes, Princeps."
"Why did he bother with the likes of you?"
"My father gave him some land and helped him," Gaius replied. "He felt he owed, and he said a debt should always be repaid."
"Did he now," Tiberius snorted. "And I suppose he thinks I owe him?"
"He did say so," Gaius admitted.
"And he gave you some instructions?"
"Yes, Princeps."
"But you're not going to claim the debt? You're going to stand alone?" Tiberius scowled.
"The debt is to him, not to me," Gaius said simply.
"I see," Tiberius said simply. "Then we shall start. You know the rules boy? Good! Centurion! Give the boy a gladius." Tiberius turned to the boy and explained, "Your life's on the line, and the lives of your family are on the line. Lose, and they can become briefly familiar with the cliffs and what's below. You have no shield, so you can't defend forever. But you have steel, and you'll have to use it. The question is, can you kill when it counts?"
Gaius looked startled, then took the gladius. It had virtually the same weight as his practice sword, but it was a little better balanced. He looked towards the now fearful Grammaticus, and took a position two thirds as far as he could get from him and remain in his territory.
"Afraid, boy?" Tiberius snorted.
"I wish to have room to attack," Gaius replied simply.
"Well?" Tiberius snorted at the Grammaticus, who was now standing petrified. "You were rather keen a few minutes ago, and you did, after all, thrash the boy at practice. You've got a shield. Get on with it."
The Grammaticus stared balefully at the gladius, and remained transfixed.
"I see," Tiberius shrugged, after a few minutes in which nothing happened. "Young Gaius, you seem to have your Grammaticus petrified with fear. So, give the gladius back to the Centurion."
Gaius nodded, and handed the gladius back, and was surprised to see the Centurion give him a wink and a grin.
Tiberius turned his attention back to the Grammaticus, and said in a tone of one who was becoming quite tired of this situation, "I gather you disturbed Little Boots yesterday. Little Boots, afterwards, thrash him, but let him live. Understand?"
"Yes Princeps."
"Now, what to do with this family. You," Tiberius said, looking at Gaius' father, who was standing unbowed, "You helped one of my old legionnaires, so you've at least done something right. I understand you want to restore the Republic?"
"I believe the principles of the Republic are what Rome needs," Gaius' father said simply, "without, of course, the civil wars. I think . . ."
"I agree with you," Tiberius interrupted, "and, when his ego didn't get in the way, so did Augustus. Does that surprise you?"
"It does."
"Let me ask you this, then," Tiberius continued, "Why hasn't the senate restored the Republic? I've done my level best to help them. I've left Rome, and I won't be back. I've left everything in the senate's hands, and what does the senate do? The odd one like you asks why we can't have a Republic, and the other sycophantic arseholes send their secret little reports here, and begging letters, asking what I want. They won't do anything without clearing it with me first. Is that not a true assessment of the situation?"
"I suppose so," came a subdued reply. There was little doubt in Rome that the remaining senators were only interested in maintaining their own personal fortunes.
"So you see," Tiberius continued wearily, "the return of the Republic is almost impossible because the people needed to make it work can't get off their arses and do anything. The Principate is necessary, simply because everybody wishes to have an authority to lean on." He stared at Gaius' father, who said nothing, although the expression on his face showed that he conceded the truth of what Tiberius was saying. "Look, go back to your estate, and stop trying to subvert what I'm doing. If you've got a reasonable scheme to bring back the Republic and enough support to make it work, let me know and I'll put it in place. Understand?"
Gaius' father nodded. Gaius knew there would be no such schemes. Nobody would allow his name to be put on a list to go to Tiberius. Tiberius might or might not permit a return to the Republic, but if he did not, banishmen
t for the names on the list could be one of the more pleasant likely outcomes.
"The Republic was a great concept," Tiberius continued, almost to himself, "provided everyone wanted it to work. But to work, decisions have to be made, and they have to be made for the good of Rome, and not for personal gratification, or to pay off the debts arising from the bribes incurred to get there in the first place. Whatever else, Roman must never again kill Roman. You do at least agree with that?"
"Yes, Princeps," Gaius' father replied. This he did believe, as did all other Romans.
"You're not such a bad family," Tiberius shrugged. "Just not very useful. You were probably all scared stiff about coming here," he growled, "except you, boy." He turned to Gaius. "You weren't, were you?"
"No, Princeps."
"Your old soldier, Libo, he told you things about me didn't he?"
"Yes, Princeps."
"Which you won't repeat here?" Tiberius smiled.
"No, Princeps."
"Some of the things weren't very flattering?"
"Er, no, Princeps."
There was a murmur of disapproval from those at the back of the room, but Tiberius just laughed. "Tell me one phrase, young Gaius. That's an order."
"He said," Gaius said evenly, "that he was sure some of the old Tiberius, the Tiberius the Legions knew, must remain."
"He did, did he," Tiberius mused. "Find this Libo," he ordered one of the men at the back of the room, "and . . ." he added more quietly, "give him a pension from me. Oh, and let it be known, anyone lays a hand on this old soldier, that person becomes a toy for Little Boots here!" He turned to Gaius Caesar and laughed. "See, Little Boots, I've got your interests, dubious though they may be, at heart!"
Gaius Caesar gave a startled but forced smile.
"Now, you," Tiberius turned towards Gaius. "I gather you've got on reasonably well with my stuttering nephew?"
"I hope so, Princeps."
"You'd be the only one that does hope so," Tiberius remarked dryly, "but he tells me you're reasonably clever. I think you require further education, and not from that Grammaticus." He paused, then a flicker of a smile crossed his face as he continued, "You will go to Rhodes, and you will learn what you can from a Greek I used to know called Timothy. Something like . . ." A smile crossed his face as he added, "He aroused my interest in astronomy, so maybe he can do something for you. So, young Claudius, learn something about science.