“Jury duty ought to have been split,” said Lepidus. “Keep the important courts for the Senate—you know, extortion and treason. The murder court could function properly on knight jurors—it would probably function properly if its juries were drawn from the Head Count!”
“What you mean,” said Mamercus acidly, “is that juries trying senators should be composed of senators, whereas juries trying the rest of the world on charges like witchcraft or poisoning are not important enough for senators.”
“Something like that,” said Lepidus, smiling.
“What I’d like to know,” said the Piglet, deeming it time to change the subject a little, “is what else he plans to legislate.”
“I’d be willing to bet it won’t be to our advantage!” said Hortensius.
“Rubbish!” said Mamercus, not a bit dismayed at being called Sulla’s puppet. “Everything he’s done so far has strengthened the influence of the Senate and tried to bring Rome back to the old values and the old customs.”
“It may be,” said Perperna thoughtfully, “that it is too late to go back to the old ways and the old customs. A lot of what he’s abolished or changed has been with us long enough to deserve being lumped in with the rest of the mos maiorum. These days the Plebeian Assembly is like a club for playing knucklebones or dice. That won’t last because it can’t last. The tribunes of the plebs have been Rome’s major legislators for centuries.”
“Yes, what he did to the tribunes of the plebs isn’t at all popular,” said Lepidus. “You’re right. The new order of things in the Plebeian Assembly can’t last.”
*
On the Kalends of October the Dictator produced new shocks; he shifted the sacred boundary of Rome exactly one hundred feet in the vicinity of the Forum Boarium, and thus made Rome a little bit larger. No one had ever tampered with the pomerium after the time of the Kings of Rome; to do so was considered a sign of royalty, it was an un—Republican act. But did that stop Sulla? Not in the least. He would shift the pomerium, he announced, because he now declared the Rubico River the official boundary between Italy and Italian Gaul. That river had been so regarded for a very long time, but the last formal fixing of the boundary had been at the Metaurus River. Therefore, said Sulla blandly, he could justifiably be said to have enlarged the territory of Rome within Italy, and he would mark the event by moving Rome’s pomerium an infinitesmal hundred feet.
“Which as far as I’m concerned,” said Pompey to his new (and very pregnant) wife, “is splendid!”
Aemilia Scaura looked puzzled. “Why?” she asked.
She did a lot of asking why and might thus have irritated a less egotistical man, but Pompey adored being asked why.
“Because, my darling little roly—poly girl who looks as if she has swallowed a giant melon whole”—he tickled her tummy with a leer and a wink—“I own most of the Ager Gallicus south of Ariminum, and it now falls officially into Umbria. I am now one of the biggest landowners in all Italy, if not the very biggest. I’m not sure. There are men who own more land thanks to their holdings in Italian Gaul, like the Aemilii Scauri—your tata, my delectable wee pudding—and the Domitii Ahenobarbi, but I inherited most of the Lucilian estates in Lucania, and with the southern half of the Ager Gallicus added to my lands in Umbria and northern Picenum, I doubt I have a rival inside Italy proper! There are many going around deploring the Dictator’s action, but he’ll get no criticism from me.”
“I can’t wait to see your lands,” she said wistfully, putting her hand on the mound of her abdomen. “As soon as I am able to travel, Magnus—you promised.”
They were sitting side by side on a couch, and he turned to tip her over with a gentle push in just the right place, then pinched her lips painlessly between his fingers and kissed her all over her ecstatic face.
“More!” she cried when he finished. His head hung over hers, his impossibly blue eyes twinkled. “And who’s the greedy little piggy—wiggy?” he asked. “The greedy little piggy—wiggy should know better, shouldn’t she?”
She fell into cascades of giggles, which provoked him to tickle her because he liked the sound of them so; but soon he wanted her so badly that he had to get up and move away.
“Oh, bother this wretched baby!” she cried crossly.
“Soon, my adorable kitten,” he managed to say cheerfully. “Let’s get rid of Glabrio before we try for our own.”
And indeed Pompey had been continent, determined that no one, least of all Aemilia Scaura’s stiff and haughty Caecilius Metellus relatives, should be able to say that he was not the most considerate and kindest of husbands; Pompey wanted badly to join the clan.
Learning that Young Marius had made an intimate of Praecia, Pompey had taken to visiting her sumptuous house, for he deemed it no comedown to sample someone else’s leavings provided that the someone else had been famous, or stuffed with clout, or awesomely noble. Praecia was, besides, a sexual delight sure to please him in ways he knew very well Aemilia Scaura would not when her turn came. Wives were for the serious business of making babies, though poor Antistia had not even been accorded that joy.
If he liked being married—which he did—it was because Pompey had the happy knack of knowing how to make a wife besotted. He paid her compliments galore, he didn’t care how silly what he said might sound were Metellus Pius Pontifex Maximus to overhear (he just made very sure he never said things like that in the hearing of Metellus Pius Pontifex Maximus), and he maintained a jolly, good—tempered attitude which disposed her to love him. Yet—clever Pompey!—he allowed her to have moods, to weep, to carp a trifle, to chastise him. And if neither Antistia nor Aemilia Scaura knew that he manipulated them while they thought they did the manipulating, then that was all for the good; all parties were satisfied, and strife was nonexistent.
His gratitude to Sulla for bestowing Scaurus Princeps Senatus’s daughter upon him knew almost no bounds. He understood that he was more than good enough for Scaurus’s daughter, but it also reinforced his positive opinion of himself to know that a man like Sulla considered him good enough for Scaurus’s daughter. Of course he was quite aware that it suited Sulla to bind him by a tie of marriage, and that too contributed to his positive opinion of himself; Roman aristocrats like Glabrio could be thrown aside at the Dictator’s whim, but the Dictator was concerned enough about Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus to give him what he had taken from Glabrio. Sulla might (for example) have given Scaurus’s daughter to his own nephew, Publius Sulla, or to the much-favored Lucullus.
Pompey had set his heart against belonging to the Senate, but it was no part of his plans to alienate himself from the circle of the Dictator; rather, his dreams had taken a fresh direction, and he now saw himself becoming the sole military hero in the history of the Republic who would seize proconsular commands without being at the very least a senator. They said it couldn’t be done. They had sneered at him, smirked at him, mocked him. But those were dangerous activities when they were aimed at Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus! In the years to come he would make every last one of them suffer—and not by killing them, as Marius might have—nor by proscribing them, as Sulla would have. He would make them suffer by forcing them to come to him, by maneuvering them into a position so invidious that the pain of being nice to him would well-nigh kill their fine opinions of themselves. And that was far sweeter to Pompey than seeing them die!
So it was that Pompey managed to contain his desire for this delectable sprig of the gens Aemilia, contented himself with many visits to Praecia, and consoled himself by eyeing Aemilia Scaura’s belly, never again to be filled with any but his progeny.
She was due to have her baby at some time early in December, but toward the end of October she went into a sudden and terrible labor. Thus far her pregnancy had been uneventful, so this very late miscarriage came as a shock to everyone, including her doctors. The scrawny male child who came so prematurely into the world died the day after, and was not long survived by Aemilia Scaura, who bled her way inexorably from
pain to eternal oblivion.
Her death devastated Pompey. He had genuinely loved her in his proprietary, unselective fashion; if Sulla had searched Rome for the right bride for Pompey in a conscious effort to please him, he could not have chosen better than the giggly, slightly dense, completely ingenuous Aemilia Scaura. The son of a man called The Butcher and himself called Kid Butcher, Pompey’s exposure to death had been lifelong, and not conditioned by impulses of compassion or mercy. A man lived, a man died. A woman lived, a woman died. Nothing was certain. When his mother died he had cried a little, but until the death of Aemilia Scaura only the death of his father had profoundly affected him.
Yet his wife’s death smote Pompey almost to joining her upon her funeral pyre; Varro and Sulla were never sure afterward whether Pompey’s struggle to leap into the flames was genuine or only partly genuine, so frantic and grief—stricken was he. In truth, Pompey himself didn’t know. All he did know was that Fortune had favored him with the priceless gift of Scaurus’s daughter, then snatched the gift away before it could be enjoyed.
Still weeping desolately, the young man quit Rome through the Colline Gate, a second time because of sudden death. First his father, now Aemilia Scaura. To a Pompeius from northern Picenum, there was only one alternative. To go home.
*
“Rome now has ten provinces,” said Sulla in the House the day after the funeral of his stepdaughter. He was wearing the senatorial mourning, which consisted of a plain white toga and a tunic bearing the thin purple stripe of a knight rather than the senator’s broad purple stripe. Had Aemilia Scaura been his blood daughter he could not easily have gone about public business for ten days, but the absence of any close blood relationship obviated that. A good thing; Sulla had a schedule.
“Let me list them for you, Conscript Fathers: Further Spain, Nearer Spain, Gaul-across-the-Alps, Italian Gaul, Macedonia together with Greece, Asia, Cilicia, Africa together with Cyrenaica, Sicily, and Sardinia together with Corsica. Ten provinces for ten men to govern. If no man remains in his province for more than one year, that will leave ten men for ten provinces at the beginning of every year—two consuls and eight praetors just coming out of office.”
His gaze lighted upon Lepidus, to whom he appeared to address his next remarks—for no better reason, it seemed, than random selection. “Each governor will now routinely be assigned a quaestor except for the governor of Sicily, who will have two quaestors, one for Syracuse and one for Lilybaeum. That leaves nine quaestors for Italy and Rome out of the twenty. Ample. Each governor will also be assigned a full staff of public servants, from lictors and heralds to scribes, clerks, and accountants. It will be the duty of the Senate—acting on advice from the Treasury—to assign each governor a specific sum to be called the stipend—and this stipend will not be added to for any reason during the year. It therefore represents the governor’s salary, and will be paid to him in advance. Out of it he must pay his staff and expenses of office, and must present a full and proper accounting of it at the end of his year’s governorship, though he will not be obliged to refund any part of it he has not spent. It is his the moment it is paid over to him, and what he does with it is his own business. If he wishes to invest it in Rome in his own name before he leaves for his province, that is permitted. However, he must understand that no more moneys will be forthcoming! A further word of warning is necessary. As his stipend becomes his personal property the moment it is paid over, it can legally be attached by lien if the new governor is in debt. I therefore advise all potential governors that their public careers will be jeopardized if they get themselves into debt. A penniless governor going out to his province will be facing heavy criminal charges when he returns home!”
A glare around the chamber, then Sulla went back to business. “I am removing all say in the matters of wars, provinces and other foreign affairs from the Assemblies. From now on the Assemblies will be forbidden to so much as discuss wars, provinces and other foreign affairs, even in contio. These matters will become the exclusive prerogative of the Senate.”
Another glare. “In future, the Assemblies will pass laws and hold elections. Nothing else. They will have no say in trials, in foreign affairs, or in any military matter.”
A small murmur started as everyone took this in. Tradition was on Sulla’s side, but ever since the time of the Brothers Gracchi the Assemblies had been used more and more to obtain military commands and provinces—or even to strip men appointed by the Senate of their military commands and provinces. It had happened to the Piglet’s father when Marius had taken the command in Africa off him, and it had happened to Sulla when Marius had taken the command against Mithridates off him. So this new legislation was welcome.
Sulla transferred his gaze to Catulus. “The two consuls should be sent to the two provinces considered most volatile or endangered. The consular provinces and the praetorian ones will be apportioned by the casting of lots. Certain conventions must be adhered to if Rome is to keep her good name abroad. If ships or fleets are levied from provinces or client kingdoms, the cost of such levies must be deducted from the annual tribute. The same law applies to the levying of soldiers or military supplies.”
Marcus Junius Brutus, so long a mouse, took courage. “If a governor is heavily committed to a war in his province, will he be obliged to give up his province at the end of one year?”
“No,” said Sulla. He was silent for a moment, thinking, then said, “It may even be that the Senate will have no other choice than to send the consuls of the year to a foreign war. If Rome is assailed on all sides, it is hard to see how this can be avoided. I only ask the Senate to consider its alternatives very carefully before committing the consuls of the year to a foreign campaign, or before extending a governor’s term of office.”
When Mamercus lifted up his hand to speak, the senators pricked up their ears; by now he was so well known as Sulla’s puppet asker—of—questions that everyone knew this meant he was going to ask something which Sulla thought best to introduce via the medium of a question.
“May I discuss a hypothetical situation?” Mamercus asked.
“By all means!” said Sulla genially.
Mamercus rose to his feet. As he was this year’s foreign praetor and therefore held curule office, he was sitting on the podium at the far end of the hall where all the curule magistrates sat, and so could be seen by every eye when he stood up. Sulla’s new rule forbidding men to leave their place when they spoke made the men on the curule podium the only ones who could be seen by all.
“Say a year comes along,” said Mamercus carefully, “when Rome does indeed find herself assailed on all sides. Say that the consuls and as many of the praetors of the year as can be spared have gone to fight during their tenure of office—or say that the consuls of the year are not militarily skilled enough to be sent to fight. Say that the governors are depleted—perhaps one or two killed by barbarians, or dead untimely from other causes. Say that among the Senate no men can be found of experience or ability who are willing or free to take a military command or a governorship. If you have excluded the Assemblies from debating the matter and the decision as to what must be done rests entirely with the Senate, what ought the Senate to do?’’
“Oh, what a splendid question, Mamercus!” Sulla exclaimed, just as if he hadn’t worded it himself. He ticked the points off on his fingers. “Rome is assailed on all sides. No curule magistrates are available. No consulars or ex-praetors are available. No senator of sufficient experience or ability is available. But Rome needs another military commander or governor. Is that right? Have I got it right?’’
“That is right, Lucius Cornelius,” said Mamercus gravely.
“Then,” said Sulla slowly, “the Senate must look outside its ranks to find the man, must it not? What you are describing is a situation beyond solution by normal means. In which case, the solution must be found by abnormal means. In other words, it is the duty of the Senate to search Rome for a man of known exceptional abi
lity and experience, and give that man all the legal authorities necessary to assume a military command or a governorship.”
“Even if he’s a freedman?” asked Mamercus, astonished.
“Even if he’s a freedman. Though I would say he was more likely to be a knight, or perhaps a centurion. I knew a centurion once who commanded a perilous retreat, was awarded the Grass Crown, and afterward given the purple-bordered toga of a curule magistrate. His name was Marcus Petreius. Without him many lives would have been lost, and that particular army would not have been able to fight again. He was inducted into the Senate and he died in all honor during the Italian War. His son is among my own new senators.”
“But the Senate is not legally empowered to give a man outside its own ranks imperium to command or govern!” objected Mamercus.
“Under my new laws the Senate will be legally empowered to do so—and ought to do so, in fact,” said Sulla. “I will call this governorship or military command a ‘special commission,’ and I will bestow the necessary authority upon the Senate to grant it—with whatever degree of imperium is considered necessary!—to any Roman citizen, even a freedman.”
“What is he up to?’’ muttered Philippus to Flaccus Princeps Senatus. “I’ve never heard the like!”
“I wish I knew, but I don’t,” said Flaccus under his breath.
But Sulla knew, and Mamercus guessed; this was one more way to bind Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus, who had refused to join the Senate, but because of all those veterans of his father’s was still a military force to be reckoned with. It was no part of Sulla’s plan to allow any man to lead an army on Rome; he would be the last, he had resolved on that. Therefore if times changed and Pompey became a threat, a way had to be open for Pompey’s considerable talents to be legally harnessed by the legal body responsible—the Senate. Sulla intended to legislate what amounted to pure common sense.
*
“It remains for me to define treason,” the Dictator said a few days later. “Until my new law courts came into being some time ago, there were several different kinds of treason, from perduellio to maiestas minuta—big treasons, little treasons, and treasons in between. And what all of these treasons lacked was true specificity. In future all charges of treason will be tried in the quaestio de maiestate, my standing treason court. A charge of treason, as you will shortly see, will be largely limited to men given provincial governorships or commands in foreign wars. If a civilian Roman generates treason within Rome or Italy, then that man will be the object of the only trial process I will allow an Assembly to conduct. Namely, that man will be tried perduellio in the Centuries, and will in consequence face the old penalty—death tied to a cross suspended from an unlucky tree.”
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