Masters of Rome Boxset: First Man in Rome, the Grass Crown, Fortune's Favourites, Caesar's Women, Caesar

by Colleen McCullough

  “It did indeed,” said Scaevola, and twitched his shoulders unhappily. “What do you really think about those omens?”

  “Two things. The first, that in no other year has anyone ever bothered to collect natural disasters so assiduously. The second, that to me, if the omens suggest anything, it is that war with Italy will ensue if Marcus Livius’s laws are not upheld.”

  Scaevola had of course voted with Scaurus and the other supporters of Drusus; he could not have done otherwise and continued to keep his friends. But he was clearly troubled, and said now, demurring, “Yes, but...”

  “Quintus Mucius, you believe! said Marius incredulously.

  “No, no, I’m not saying that!” said Scaevola crossly, his common sense warring with his Roman superstition. “Yet—how does one account for Diva Angerona’s sweating, and losing her gag?” His eyes filled with tears. “Or for the death of my first cousin Crassus, my dearest friend?’’

  “Quintus Mucius,” said Drusus, who had caught up to the group, “I think Marcus Aemilius is right. All those omens are a sign of what will happen if my laws are invalidated.”

  “Quintus Mucius, you are a member of the College of Pontifices,” said Scaurus Princeps Senatus patiently. “It all began with the only believable phenomenon, the loss of the oil out of the wooden statue of Saturnus. But we have been expecting that to happen for years! That’s why the statue is swaddled in the first place! As for Diva Angerona—what easier than to sneak into her little shrine, yank down her bandage and give her a bath of some sticky substance guaranteed to leave drops behind? We are all aware that lightning tends to strike the highest point in an area, and you well know that the temple of Pietas was small in every way but one—height! As for earthquakes and gulches of fire and bloody rains and plagues of frogs— tchah! I refuse even to discuss them! Lucius Licinius died in his bed. We should all hope for such a pleasant end!”

  “Yes, but—” Scaevola protested, still unconvinced.

  “Look at him!” Scaurus exclaimed to Marius and Drusus. “If he can be gulled, how can we possibly blame the rest of those superstition-riddled idiots?”

  “Do you not believe in the gods, Marcus Aemilius?” asked Scaevola, awestruck.

  “Yes, yes, yes, of course I do! What I do not believe in, Quintus Mucius, are the machinations and interpretations of men who claim to be acting in the name of the gods! I never met an omen or a prophecy that couldn’t be interpreted in two diametrically opposite ways! And what makes Philippus such an expert? The fact that he’s an augur? He wouldn’t know a genuine omen if he tripped over it and it sat up and bit him on his pulverized nose! As for old Publius Cornelius Culleolus—he’s just what his name says he is, Walnut Balls! I would be prepared to take a very large bet with you, Quintus Mucius, that if some clever fellow had chased up the natural disasters and so-called unnatural events which occurred during the year of Saturninus’s second tribunate, he could have produced a list equally imposing! Grow up! Bring some of that healthy courtroom skepticism of yours into this situation, I beg of you!”

  “I must say Philippus surprised me,” said Marius gloomily. “I bought him once. But I never realized how crafty the cunnus was.”

  “Oh, he’s clever,” said Scaevola eagerly, anxious to divert Scaurus from his shortcomings. “I imagine he thought of this some time ago.” He laughed. “One thing we can be sure of—this wasn’t Caepio’s brilliant idea!”

  “How do you feel, Marcus Livius?” asked Marius.

  “How do I feel?” Drusus looked pinched about the mouth, and very tired. “Oh, Gaius Marius, I don’t honestly know anymore. It was a clever piece of work, that’s all.”

  “You should have interposed your veto,” said Marius.

  “In my shoes, you would have—and I wouldn’t have blamed you,” said Drusus. “But I cannot retract what I said at the beginning of my tribunate, please try to understand that. I promised then that I would heed the wishes of my peers in the Senate.”

  “There won’t be any enfranchisement now,” said Scaurus.

  “Whyever not?” asked Drusus, genuinely astonished.

  “Marcus Livius, they’ve canceled all your laws! Or they will!”

  “What difference can that make? Enfranchisement hasn’t gone to the Plebeian Assembly yet, I merely put it before the House. Which has voted not to recommend it to the Plebs. But I never promised the House that I wouldn’t take a law to the Plebs if they didn’t recommend it—I said I would seek their mandate first. I have acquitted myself of that promise. But I cannot stop now, just because the Senate said no. The process is not complete. The Plebs must say no first. But I shall try to persuade the Plebs to say yes,” said Drusus, smiling.

  “Ye gods, Marcus Livius, you deserve to win!” said Scaurus.

  “So I think too,” Drusus said. “Would you excuse me? I have some letters to write to my Italian friends. I must persuade them not to go to war, that the battle isn’t over yet.”

  “Nonsense, it isn’t possible!” exclaimed Scaevola. “If the Italians really do mean war should we refuse them the franchise—and I believe you there, Marcus Livius, I really do, otherwise I would have put myself on Philippus’s right— it will take years for them to prepare for war!”

  “And there, Quintus Mucius, you’re wrong. They are already on a war footing. Better prepared for war than Rome is.”

  5

  That the Marsi at any rate were prepared for war was brought home to the Senate and the People of Rome some days later, when word came that Quintus Poppaedius Silo was leading two full-strength legions of Marsi, properly equipped and armed, down the Via Valeria toward Rome. A startled Princeps Senatus summoned the Senate to an urgent meeting, only to find that a mere handful of senators were willing to attend; neither Philippus nor Caepio was there, nor had sent any message as to why. Drusus had also refused to come, but had sent word that he felt he could not be present while his peers contended with a threat of war from such an old personal friend as Quintus Poppaedius Silo.

  “The rabbits!” said Scaurus to Marius, eyeing the empty tiers. “They’ve bolted into their burrows, apparently on the theory that if they stay there, the nasty men will go away.”

  But Scaurus didn’t think the Marsi meant war, and managed to convince his meager audience that the best way to deal with this “invasion” was by peaceful methods.

  “Gnaeus Domitius,” he said to Ahenobarbus Pontifex Maximus, “you are an eminent consular, you have been censor, and you are Pontifex Maximus. Would you be willing to travel out to meet this army like a Popillius Laenas, accompanied only by lictors? You were the iudex in the special court of the lex Licinia Mucia set up in Alba Fucentia a few years ago, so the Marsi know you—and I hear they respect you greatly, thanks to your clemency. Find out why this army is on the march, and what the Marsi want of us.”

  “Very well, Princeps Senatus, I will be another Popillius Laenas,” said Ahenobarbus, “provided that you endow me with a full proconsular imperium. Otherwise I won’t be able to say or do what I might think necessary at the moment. I also want the axes put into my fasces, please.”

  “You shall have both,” said Scaurus.

  “The Marsi will reach the outskirts of Rome tomorrow,” said Marius, grimacing.’’ You realize, I hope, what day it is? “

  “I do,” said Ahenobarbus. “The day before the Nones of October—the anniversary of the battle of Arausio, at which the Marsi lost a whole legion.”

  “They planned it this way,” said Sextus Caesar, quite enjoying this meeting, despite its gloomy atmosphere; no Philippus, no Caepio, and only those senators present whom he privately deemed patriots.

  “That’s why, Conscript Fathers, I do not think they mean this as an act of war,” said Scaurus.

  “Clerk, go summon the lictors of the thirty curiae,” said Sextus Caesar. “You will have your proconsular imperium, Gnaeus Domitius, as soon as the lictors of the thirty curiae get here. And will you report back to us in a special session the day
after tomorrow?” he asked.

  “On the Nones?” asked Ahenobarbus incredulously.

  “In this emergency, Gnaeus Domitius, we will meet on the Nones,” said Sextus Caesar firmly. “Hopefully it will be a better attended meeting! What is Rome coming to, that a genuine emergency produces no more than a handful of concerned men?”

  “Oh, I know why, Sextus Julius,” said Marius. “They didn’t come because they didn’t believe the summonses. They all decided this was a manufactured crisis.”

  *

  On the Nones of October the House was fuller, yet by no means full. Drusus was present, but Philippus and Caepio were not, having decided that their absence would show the senators what they thought of this “invasion.”

  “Tell us what happened, Gnaeus Domitius,” said the only consul present, Sextus Caesar.

  “Well, I met Quintus Poppaedius Silo not far from the Colline Gate,” said Ahenobarbus Pontifex Maximus. “He was marching at the head of an army. Two legions would be about right—at least ten thousand actual soldiers, the appropriate number of noncombatants, eight pieces of excellent field artillery, and a squad of cavalry. Silo himself was on foot, as were his officers. I could see no sign of a baggage train, so I presume he had brought his men in light marching order.” He sighed. “They were a magnificent sight, Conscript Fathers! Beautifully turned out, in superb condition, well disciplined. While Silo and I talked, they stood to attention in the sun without speaking, and no one broke ranks.”

  “Could you tell, Pontifex Maximus, if their mail shirts and other arms were new?” asked Drusus anxiously.

  “Yes, Marcus Livius, easily. Everything was new, and of the highest quality manufacture,” said Ahenobarbus.

  “Thank you.”

  “Continue, Gnaeus Domitius,” said Sextus Caesar.

  “We stopped within hailing distance, I and my lictors, Quintus Poppaedius Silo and his legions. Then Silo and I walked out alone to talk, where we could not be overheard.

  “ ‘Why this martial expedition, Quintus Poppaedius?’ I asked him, very courteously and calmly.

  “ ‘We come to Rome because we have been summoned by the tribunes of the plebs,’ said Silo, with equal courtesy.

  “ ‘The tribunes of the plebs?’ I asked him then. “‘Not a tribune of the plebs? Not Marcus Livius Drusus?’

  “ ‘The tribunes of the plebs,’ he said.

  “ ‘All of them, you mean?’ I asked, wanting to be sure.

  “ ‘All of them,’ he said.

  “ ‘Why should the tribunes of the plebs summon you?’ I asked.

  “ ‘To assume the Roman citizenship, and to see that every Italian is awarded the Roman citizenship,’ he said.

  “I drew back from him a little, and raised my brows, looking beyond him at his legions. ‘By threat of arms?’ I asked.

  “ ‘If necessary,’ he said.

  “So I employed my proconsular imperium to make a statement I could not otherwise have made, given the tenor of the recent sessions in this House. A statement, Conscript Fathers, that I considered the situation required. I said to Silo, ‘Force of arms will not prove necessary, Quintus Poppaedius.’

  “His answer was a scornful laugh. ‘Oh, come, Gnaeus Domitius!’ he said. ‘Do you honestly expect me to believe that? We of Italy have waited literal generations for the citizenship without taking up arms, and for our patience, have seen our chances dwindle away to nothing! Today we have come to understand that our only chance to gain the citizenship is by force.’

  “Naturally that upset me greatly, Conscript Fathers. I struck my hands together and cried, ‘Quintus Poppaedius, Quintus Poppaedius, I assure you, the time is very close! Please, I beg of you, disband this force, put up your swords, go home to the lands of the Marsi! I give you my solemn promise that the Senate and People of Rome will grant every Italian the Roman citizenship.’

  “He looked at me for a long time without speaking, then he said, ‘Very well, Gnaeus Domitius, I will take my army away from here—but only far enough and for long enough to see whether you speak the truth. For I tell you straight and fair, Pontifex Maximus, that if the Senate and People of Rome do not grant Italy the full Roman citizenship during the term of this present College of the Tribunes of the Plebs, I will march on Rome again. And all of Italy will be marching with me. Mark that well! All of Italy will unite to destroy Rome.’

  “Whereupon he turned and walked away. His troops about-faced, showing me how well trained they were, and marched off. I returned to Rome. And all night, Conscript Fathers, I thought. You know me well. You know me of old. My reputation is not that of a patient man, nor even that of an understanding man. But I am quite capable of telling the difference between a radish and a bull! And I tell you plainly, my fellow senators, that yesterday I saw a bull. A bull with hay wrapped round both horns, and fire trickling from his nostrils. It was not an empty promise I made to Quintus Poppaedius Silo! I will do everything in my power to see that the Senate and People of Rome grant the franchise to all of Italy.”

  The House was humming; many eyes gazed at Ahenobarbus Pontifex Maximus in wonder, and many minds took note of this remarkable change in attitude by one famous for his intractable and intolerant nature.

  “We will meet again tomorrow,” said Sextus Caesar, looking pleased. “It is time we searched for the answer to this question yet again. The two praetors who have been traveling Italy at the instigation of Lucius Marcius”—Sextus Caesar bowed to Philippus’s empty seat gravely—”have not come up with any kind of answer so far. We must debate the issue again. But first, I want to see the people here to listen who have not bothered to listen lately—my fellow consul and the praetor Quintus Servilius Caepio, in particular.”

  They were there on the morrow, both of them, obviously familiar with every detail of Ahenobarbus’s report; yet not, it seemed to Drusus, Scaurus Princeps Senatus and the others who wanted so badly to see that pair back down, worried or even concerned. Gaius Marius, his heart inexplicably heavy, let his eyes roam across the faces of those present. Sulla hadn’t missed one meeting since Drusus had become a tribune of the plebs, but nor had he been helpful; the death of his son had removed him from any normal congress with all men, even his proposed colleague in that future consulship, Quintus Pompeius Rufus. He sat and listened, face impassive, then left each meeting the moment it was over, and may as well have disappeared from the face of the earth. Significantly, he had voted to keep the laws of Drusus on the tablets, so Marius presumed he was still in their camp. But speech with him was something no one had known. Catulus Caesar looked a little uncomfortable today, probably as a result of the defection of his hitherto staunch ally, Ahenobarbus Pontifex Maximus.

  There was a stir; Marius returned his attention to the House. Philippus of course held the fasces for the month of October, so today it was he in the chair, not Sextus Caesar. He had another document with him, one he had not entrusted to his clerk this time. When the formalities were over he rose to speak first.

  “Marcus Livius Drusus,” Philippus said clearly and coldly, “I wish to read something to the House of far greater import than a quasi-invasion by your best friend, Quintus Poppaedius Silo. But before I read it, I want every senator to hear you say you are present and will listen.”

  “I am present, Lucius Marcius, and I will listen,” said Drusus, equally clearly and coldly.

  Drusus looked, thought the watching Gaius Marius, terribly tired. As if he had long since outrun his strength, and carried on now purely by the power of his will. In recent weeks he had lost a great deal of weight, his cheeks had fallen in, his eyes sunk back in his head and circled with dark grey shadows.

  Why do I feel as if I’m a slave in a treadmill? wondered Marius. Why am I so on edge, so desperately anxious and apprehensive? Drusus does not have my sinews, nor does he have my unshakable conviction that I am right. He is too fair, he is too reasonable, he is too inclined to see both sides. They will kill him, mentally if not physically. Why did I never
see how dangerous is this Philippus? Why did I never see how brilliant he is?

  Philippus unrolled his single sheet of paper and held it out at arm’s length between his right hand and his left. “I shall not preface this by any comment, Conscript Fathers,” he said. “I shall simply read, and let you draw your own conclusions. The text goes as follows:

  “ ‘I swear by Jupiter Optimus Maximus, by Vesta, by Mars, by Sol Indiges, by Terra and by Tellus, by the gods and heroes who founded and assisted the people of Italy in their struggles, that I will hold as my friends and foes those whom Marcus Livius Drusus holds as his friends and foes. I swear that I will work for the welfare and benefit of Marcus Livius Drusus and all those others who take this oath, even at the cost of my life, my children, my parents, and my property. If through the law of Marcus Livius Drusus I become a citizen of Rome, I swear that I will worship Rome as my only nation, and that I will bind myself to Marcus Livius Drusus as his client. This oath I take upon myself to pass on to as many other Italians as I can. I swear faithfully, in the knowledge that my faith will bring its just rewards. And if I am forsworn, may my life, my children, my parents and my property be taken from me. So be it. So do I swear.’’’

  Never had the House been so still. Philippus looked from Scaurus with mouth agape to Marius grinning savagely, from Scaevola with lips pressed together to Ahenobarbus purpling in the cheeks, from Catulus Caesar’s horror to Sextus Caesar’s grief, from Metellus Pius the Piglet’s dismayed consternation to Caepio’s naked joy.

  Then he let his left hand go from the paper, which recoiled with a loud snap; half the House jumped.

  “That, Conscript Fathers, is the oath which thousands upon thousands of Italians have sworn over the course of the past year. And that, Conscript Fathers, is why Marcus Livius Drusus has worked so hard, so unflaggingly, so enthusiastically, to see his friends of Italy awarded the priceless gift of our Roman citizenship!” He shook his head wearily. “Not because he cares one iota about their dirty Italian hides! Not because he believes in justice—even a justice so perverted! Not because he dreams of a career so luminous it will put him in the history books! But because, fellow members of this body, because he holds an oath of clientship with most of Italy! Were we to give Italy the franchise, Italy would belong to Marcus Livius Drusus! Imagine it! A clientele stretching from the Arnus to Rhegium, from the Tuscan Sea to the Adriatic! Oh, I do congratulate you, Marcus Livius! What a prize! What a reason to work so indefatigably! A clientele bigger than a hundred armies!”