Philippus stayed by his stool (as Sulla had directed all speakers must), but he turned around slowly in a circle to look at the tiers of senators on both sides of the House. As orator and presence he had grown in stature since the time when he had set out to ruin Marcus Livius Drusus; these days there were no ludicrous temper tantrums, no storms of abuse.
“Conscript Fathers,” he said solemnly, “we have no time to waste in debate. Even as I speak, Lepidus is marching on Rome. May I respectfully ask the senior consul Decimus Junius Brutus to put a motion before the House? Namely, that this body authorize the knight Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus to raise his old legions and march to contend with Marcus Junius Brutus in the name of the Senate and People of Rome. Further, that this body confer a propraetorian status upon the knight Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus.”
Decimus Brutus had opened his mouth to consent when Mamercus prevented him, one hand on the senior consul’s arm. “I will agree to your putting that motion before the House for a vote, Decimus Junius,” he said, “but not until Lucius Marcius Philippus has clarified one phrase he used in wording his motion! He said, ‘to raise his old legions’ instead of specifying how many legions! No matter how stellar Gnaeus Pompeius’s military record might be, he is not a member of the Senate! He cannot be given the authority to raise legions in Rome’s name to however many he may himself consider enough. I say that the motion must specify the exact number of legions this House authorizes Gnaeus Pompeius to raise, and I say further that the number of legions be limited to two. Brutus the governor of Italian Gaul has two legions of relatively inexperienced soldiers, the permanent garrison of that province. It ought not to take more than two legions of hoary old Pompeian veterans to deal with Brutus.”
This perceptive opposition did not please Philippus, but he deemed it wise to accede; Mamercus was of that slow and steady kind who somehow always managed to accumulate a lot of senatorial clout—and he was married to Sulla’s daughter.
“I beg the House’s pardon!” cried Philippus. “How sloppy of me! And I thank our esteemed Princeps Senatus and junior consul for his timely intervention. I meant to say two legions, of course. Let the motion be put to the House, Decimus Junius, with that exact number of legions.”
The motion was put, and the motion was passed without one single dissenting voice. Cethegus had raised his arms above his head in a stretch and a yawn, the signal to all his followers on the back benches that they were to vote in the affirmative. And because the motion dealt with war, the senatorial resolution carried the force of law with it; in war and in foreign matters the various Assemblies of the Roman People no longer had a say.
*
It was, after all that political maneuvering, a hasty and pathetic little war, hardly deserving of the name. Even though Lepidus had started out to march on Rome considerably earlier than Catulus left Campania, still Catulus beat him to Rome and occupied the Campus Martius. When Lepidus did appear across the river in Transtiberim (he had come down the Via Aurelia), Catulus barred and garrisoned all the bridges, and thereby forced Lepidus to march north to the Mulvian Bridge. Thus it was that the two armies came to grips on the northeastern side of the Via Lata under the Servian Walls of the Quirinal; in that place most of the fighting occurred. Some fierce clashes of arms elevated the battle beyond a rout, but Lepidus turned out to be a hopeless tactician, incapable of deploying his men logically and quite incapable of winning.
An hour after the two sides met, Lepidus was in full retreat back to the Mulvian Bridge, with Catulus in hot pursuit. North of Fregenae he turned and fought Catulus again, but only to secure his flight to Cosa. From Cosa he managed to escape to Sardinia, accompanied by twenty thousand of his foot soldiers and fifteen hundred cavalry troopers. It was his intention to restructure his army in Sardinia, then return to Italy and try again. With him went his middle son, Lucius, the Carboan ex-governor Marcus Perperna Veiento, and Cinna’s son. But Lepidus’s eldest son, Scipio Aemilianus, declined to leave Italy. Instead he barricaded himself and his legion inside the old and formidable fortress on the Alban Mount above Bovillae, and there withstood siege.
The much-publicized return to Italy from Sardinia never came to pass. The governor of Sardinia was an old ally of Lucullus’s, one Lucius Valerius Triarius, and he resisted Lepidus’s occupation bitterly. Then in April of that unhappy year Lepidus died still in Sardinia; his troops maintained that what killed him was a broken heart, mourning for his dead wife. Perperna Veiento and Cinna’s son took ship from Sardinia to Liguria, and thence marched their twenty thousand foot and fifteen hundred horse along the Via Domitia to Spain and Quintus Sertorius. With them went Lucius, Lepidus’s middle son.
The eldest son, Scipio Aemilianus, proved the most militarily competent of the rebels, and held out in Alba Longa for some time. But eventually he was forced to surrender; following orders from the Senate, Catulus executed him.
If ignominy was to set the standard of events, Brutus fared far the worst. While ever he heard nothing from Lepidus he held his two legions in Italian Gaul at the major intersection of Bononia; and thus allowed Pompey to steal a march on him. That young man (now some twenty-eight years old) had of course already been mobilized when Philippus secured him his special commission from the Senate. But instead of bringing his two legions up from Picenum to Ariminum and then inland along the Via Aemilia, Pompey chose to go down the Via Flaminia toward Rome. At the intersection of this road with the Via Cassia north to Arretium and thence to Italian Gaul, he turned onto the Via Cassia. By doing this he prevented Brutus from joining Lepidus—had Brutus ever really thought he might.
When he heard of Pompey’s approach up the Via Cassia, Brutus retreated into Mutina. This big and extremely well-fortified town was stuffed with clients of the Aemilii, Lepidus as well as Scaurus. It therefore welcomed Brutus gladly. Pompey duly arrived; Mutina was invested. The city held out until Brutus heard of the defeat and flight of Lepidus, and his death in Sardinia. Once it became clear that Lepidus’s troops were now absolutely committed to Quintus Sertorius in Spain, Brutus despaired. Rather than put Mutina through any further hardship, he surrendered.
“That was sensible,” said Pompey to him after Pompey had entered the city.
“Both sensible and expedient,” said Brutus wearily. “I fear, Gnaeus Pompeius, that I am not by nature a martial man.”
“That’s true.”
“I will, however, go to my death with grace.”
The beautiful blue eyes opened even wider than usual. ‘ To your death?’’ asked Pompey blankly. ‘ There is no need for that, Marcus Junius Brutus! You’re free to go.”
It was Brutus’s turn to open his eyes wide. “Free? Do you mean it, Gnaeus Pompeius?”
“Certainly!” said Pompey cheerfully. “However, that does not mean you’re free to raise fresh resistance! Just go home.”
“Then with your permission, Gnaeus Pompeius, I will proceed to my own lands in western Umbria. My people there need calming.”
“That’s fine by me! Umbria is my patch too.”
But after Brutus had ridden out of Mutina’s western gate, Pompey sent for one of his legates, a man named Geminius who was a Picentine of humble status and inferior rank; Pompey disliked subordinates whose station in life was equal to his own.
“I’m surprised you let him go,” said Geminius.
“Oh, I had to let him go! My standing with the Senate is not yet so high that I can order the execution of a Junius Brutus without overwhelming evidence. Even if I do have a propraetorian imperium. So it’s up to you to find that overwhelming evidence.”
“Only tell me what you want, Magnus, and it will be done.”
“Brutus says he’s going to his own estates in Umbria. Yet he’s chosen to head northwest on the Via Aemilia! I would have said that was the wrong way, wouldn’t you? Well, perhaps he’s heading cross—country. Or perhaps he’s looking for more troops. I want you to follow him at once with a good detachment of cavalry—five squadrons ought to be enoug
h,” said Pompey, picking his teeth with a thin sliver of wood. “I suspect he’s looking for more troops, probably in Regium Lepidum. Your job is to arrest him and execute him the moment he seems treasonous. That way there can be no doubt that he’s a double traitor, and no one in Rome can object when he dies. Understood, Geminius?’’
“Completely.”
What Pompey did not explain to Geminius was the ultimate reason for this second chance for Brutus. Kid Butcher was aiming for the command in Spain against Sertorius, and his chances of getting it were much greater if he could find an excuse for not demobilizing. Could he make it appear that Italian Gaul was potentially rebellious right along the length of the Via Aemilia, then he had every excuse for lingering there with his army now that the war was over. He would be far enough away from Rome not to seem to present any threat to the Senate, yet he would still be under arms. Ready to march for Spain.
Geminius did exactly as he was told. When Brutus arrived in the township of Regium Lepidum some distance to the northwest of Mutina, he was welcomed joyfully. As the name of the place indicated, it was populated by clients of the Aemilii Lepidi, and naturally it offered to fight for Brutus if he wished. But before Brutus could answer, Geminius and his five squadrons of cavalry rode in through the open gates. There in the forum of Regium Lepidum, Geminius publicly adjudged Marcus Junius Brutus an enemy of Rome, and cut his head off.
Back went the head to Pompey in Mutina, together with a laconic message from Geminius to the effect that he had surprised Brutus in the act of organizing a fresh insurrection, and that in Geminius’s opinion Italian Gaul was unstable.
Off went Pompey’s report to the Senate:
For the time being I consider it my duty to garrison Italian Gaul with my two legions of veterans. The troops Brutus commanded I disbanded as disloyal, though I did not punish them beyond removing their arms and armor. And their two eagles of course. I consider the conduct of Regium Lepidum a symptom of the general unrest north of the border, and hope this explains my decision to stay.
I have not dispatched the head of the traitor Brutus with this record of my deeds because he was at the time of his death a governor with a propraetorian imperium, and I don’t think the Senate would want to pin it up on the rostra. Instead, I have sent the ashes of body and head to his widow for proper interment. In this I hope I have not erred. It was no part of my intentions to execute Brutus. He brought that fate upon himself.
May I respectfully request that my own imperium be permitted to stand for the time being? I can perform a useful function here in Italian Gaul by holding the province for the Senate and People of Rome.
The Senate under Philippus’s skillful guidance pronounced those men who had taken part in Lepidus’s rebellion sacer, but because the horrors of the proscriptions still lingered, did not exact any reprisals against their families; the crude pottery jar containing his ashes in her lap, the widow of Marcus Junius Brutus could relax. Her six-year-old son’s fortune was safe, though it would be up to her to ensure that he did not suffer political odium when he grew up.
Servilia told the child of his father’s death in a way which gave him to understand that he was never to admire or assist his father’s murderer, Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus, the Picentine upstart. The boy listened, nodding solemnly. If the news that he now had no father upset him or grieved him, he gave no sign.
He had not yet sprung into speedy growth, but remained a weedy, undersized little boy with spindly legs and a pouting face. Very dark of hair and eye and olive of skin, he had produced a certain juvenile prettiness which his besotted mama saw as permanent beauty, and his tutor spoke highly of his ability to read and write and calculate (what the tutor did not say, however, was that little Brutus entirely lacked an original bent, and imagination). Naturally Servilia had no intention of ever sending Brutus to school with other boys; he was too sensitive, too intelligent, too precious—someone might pick on him!
Only three members of her family had come to pay their condolences to Servilia, though two of those were, strictly speaking, not close relatives.
After the last of their various parents, grandparents and others had died, the only surviving person linked to them by blood, Uncle Mamercus, had placed the six orphaned children of his brother and sister in the charge of a Servilius Caepio cousin and her mother. These two women, Gnaea and Porcia Liciniana, now came to call—a courtesy Servilia could well have done without. Gnaea remained the dour and silent subordinate of her overpowering mother; at almost thirty years of age, she was even plainer and flatter of chest than she had been in her late adolescence. Porcia Liciniana dominated the conversation. As she had done all of her life.
“Well, Servilia, I never thought to see you a widow at such an early age, and I’m sorry for you,” said this formidable lady. “It always seemed remarkable to me that Sulla spared your husband and his father from the proscription lists, though I assumed that was because of you. It might have been awkward—even for Sulla!—to proscribe the father-in-law of his own son-in-law’s niece, but he really ought to have done so. Old Brutus stuck to Gaius Marius and then Carbo like a moth melted into a wax candle. It had to have been his son’s marriage to you saved them both. And you would think the son would have learned, wouldn’t you? But no! Off he went to serve an idiot like Lepidus! Anyone with any sense could have seen that business would never prosper.”
“Quite so,” said Servilia colorlessly.
“I’m sorry too,” said Gnaea gruffly, contributing her mite.
But the glance Servilia bestowed upon this poor creature held neither love nor pity; Servilia despised her, though she did not loathe her as she did the mother.
“What will you do now?’’ asked Porcia Liciniana.
“Marry again as soon as I can.”
“Marry again! That is not fitting for one of your rank. I did not remarry after I was widowed.”
“I imagine no one asked you,” said Servilia sweetly.
Thick—skinned though she was, Porcia Liciniana nonetheless felt the sting of the acid in this statement, and rose majestically to her feet. “I’ve done my duty and paid my condolences,” she said. “Come, Gnaea, it’s time to go. We mustn’t hinder Servilia in her search for a new husband.”
“And good riddance to you, you old verpa!” said Servilia to herself after they had gone.
Quite as unwelcome as Porcia Liciniana and Gnaea was her third visitor, who arrived shortly afterward. The youngest of the six orphans, Marcus Porcius Cato was Servilia’s half brother through their common mother, sister to Drusus and Mamercus.
“My brother Caepio would have come,” said young Cato in his harsh and unmelodic voice, “except that he’s out of Rome with Catulus’s army—a contubernalis, if you know that term.”
“I know it,” said Servilia gently.
But the thickness of Porcia Liciniana’s skin was as air compared to Marcus Porcius Cato’s, so this sally was ignored. He was now sixteen years old and a man, but he still lived in the care of Gnaea and her mother, as did his full sister, Porcia.
Mamercus had sold Drusus’s house as too large some time ago; they all occupied Cato’s father’s house these days.
Though the massive size of his blade—thin eagle’s nose would never allow him to be called handsome, Cato was actually a most attractive youth, clear—skinned and wide—shouldered. His large and expressive eyes were a soft grey, his closely cropped hair an off—red that shaded to chestnut, and his mouth quite beautiful. To Servilia, however, he was an absolute monster—loud, slow to learn, insensitive, and so pugnaciously quarrelsome that he had been a thorn in the side of his older siblings from the time he began to walk and talk.
Between them lay ten years of age and different fathers, but more than that; Servilia was a patrician whose family went back to the time of the Kings of Rome, whereas Cato’s branch of his family went back to a Celtiberian slave, Salonia, who had been the second wife of Cato the Censor. To Servilia, this slur her mother had brought up
on her own and her husband’s families was an intolerable one, and she could never set eyes upon any of her three younger siblings without grinding her teeth in rage and shame. For Cato these feelings were undisguised, but for Caepio, supposed to be her own full brother (she knew he was not), what she felt had to be suppressed. For decency’s sake. Rot decency!
Not that Cato felt any social stigma; he was inordinately proud of his great—grandfather the Censor, and considered his lineage impeccable. As noble Rome had forgiven Cato the Censor this second marriage (founded as it had been in a sly revenge against his snobbish son by his first wife, a Licinia), young Cato could look forward to a career in the Senate and very likely the consulship.
“Uncle Mamercus turned out to have picked you an unsuitable husband,” said Cato.
“I deny that,” said Servilia in level tones. “He suited me well. He was, after all, a Junius Brutus. Plebeian, perhaps, but absolutely noble on both sides.”
“Why can you never see that ancestry is far less important than a man’s deeds?” demanded Cato.
“It is not less important, but more.”
“You’re an insufferable snob!”
“I am indeed. I thank the gods for it.”
“You’ll ruin your son.”
“That remains to be seen.”
“When he’s a bit older I’ll take him under my wing. That will knock all the social pretensions out of him!”
“Over my dead body.”
“How can you stop me? The boy can’t stay plastered to your skirts forever! Since he has no father, I stand in loco parentis.”
“Not for very long. I shall remarry.”
“To remarry is unbecoming for a Roman noblewoman! I would have thought you would have set out to emulate Cornelia the Mother of the Gracchi.”
“I am too sensible. A Roman noblewoman of patrician stock must have a husband to ensure her pre-eminence. A husband, that is, who is as noble as she is.”
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