“In good time. First I need to know what you intend to do about my situation. The father will not marry me. To do so would diminish his dignitas, and that matters more to him than I ever could. I do not blame him, you understand.”
“How can you be so rational?” he asked in wonder.
“I can see little point in being anything else! Would you rather I had rushed in squalling and screaming, and made what is still our business everyone’s business?”
“I suppose not,” he said tiredly, and sighed. The handkerchief was tucked away. “No, of course not. Except that it might have proved you are human. If anything about you worries me, Servilia, it is your lack of humanity, your inability to understand frailty. You bore on like an auger applied to the framework of your life with the skill and drive of a professional craftsman.”
“That is a very muddled metaphor,” said Servilia.
“Well, it was what I always sensed in you—and perhaps what I envied in you, for I do not have it myself. I admire it enormously. But it isn’t comfortable, and it prevents pity.”
“Don’t waste your pity on me, Silanus. You haven’t answered my question yet. What do you intend to do about my situation?”
He got up, supporting himself by holding on to the back of his chair until he was sure his legs would hold him up. Then he paced up and down the room for a moment before looking at her. So calm, so composed, so unaffected by disaster!
“Since you don’t intend to marry the man, I think the best thing I can do is move back into our bedroom for enough time to make the child’s origin look like my doing,” he said, going back to his chair.
Oh, why couldn’t she at least accord him the gratification of seeing her relax, or look relieved, or happy? No, not Servilia! She simply looked exactly the same, even within her eyes.
“That,” she said, “is sensible, Silanus. It is what I would have done in your situation, but one never knows how a man will see what touches his pride.”
“It touches my pride, Servilia, but I would rather my pride remained intact, at least in the eyes of our world. No one knows?”
“He knows, but he won’t air the truth.”
“Are you very far along?’’
“No. If you and I resume sleeping together, I doubt anyone will be able to guess from the date of the child’s birth that it is anyone’s but yours.”
“Well, you must have been discreet, for I’ve heard not one rumor, and there are always plenty of people to let slip rumors like that to the cuckolded husband.”
“There will be no rumors.”
“Who is he?” Silanus asked again.
“Gaius Julius Caesar, of course. I would not have surrendered my reputation to anyone less.”
“No, of course you wouldn’t have. His birth is as great as rumor says his procreative equipment is,” said Silanus bitterly. “Are you in love with him?”
“Oh, yes.”
“I can understand why, for all that I dislike the man. Women do tend to make fools of themselves over him.”
“I,” said Servilia flatly, “have not made a fool of myself.”
“That’s true. And do you intend to go on seeing him?”
“Yes. I will never not see him.”
“One day it will come out, Servilia.”
“Probably, but it suits neither of us to have our affair made public, so we will try to prevent that.”
“For which I should be grateful, I suppose. With any luck, I’ll be dead before it does.”
“I do not wish you dead, husband.”
Silanus laughed, but its note was not amused. “For which I ought to be grateful! I wouldn’t put it past you to speed my quittance if you thought it might serve your purposes.”
“It does not serve my purposes.”
“I understand that.” His breath caught. “Ye gods, Servilia, your children are formally contracted to be married! How can you hope to keep the affair secret?”
“I fail to see why Brutus and Julia endanger us, Silanus. We do not meet anywhere in their vicinity.”
“Or anyone else’s vicinity, obviously. As well that the servants are afraid of you.”
“Indeed.”
He put his head between his hands. “I would like to be alone now, Servilia.”
She rose immediately. “Dinner will be ready shortly.”
“Not for me today.”
“You should eat,” she said on the way to the door. “It has not escaped me that your pain lessens for some hours after you eat, especially when you eat well.”
“Not today! Now go, Servilia, go!”
Servilia went, well satisfied with this interview, and in better charity with Silanus than she had expected to be.
*
The Plebeian Assembly convicted Marcus Aurelius Cotta of peculation, fined him more than his fortune was worth, and forbade him fire and water within four hundred miles of Rome.
“Which denies Athens to me,” he said to his younger brother, Lucius, and to Caesar, “but the thought of Massilia is revolting. So I think I’ll go to Smyrna, and join Uncle Publius Rutilius.”
“Better company than Verres,” said Lucius Cotta, aghast at the verdict.
“I hear that the Plebs is going to vote Carbo consular insignia as a token of its esteem,” said Caesar, lip curling.
“Including lictors and fasces?” asked Marcus Cotta, gasping.
“I admit we can do with a second consul now that Glabrio’s gone off to govern his new combined province, Uncle Marcus, but though the Plebs may be able to dispense purple-bordered togas and curule chairs, it’s news to me that it can bestow imperium!” snapped Caesar, still shaking with anger. “This is all thanks to the Asian publicani!”
“Leave it be, Caesar,” said Marcus Cotta. “Times change, it is as simple as that. You might call this the last backlash of Sulla’s punishment of the Ordo Equester. Lucky for me that we all recognized what might happen, and transferred my lands and money to Lucius here.”
“The proceeds will follow you to Smyrna,” said Lucius Cotta. “Though it was the knights brought you down, there were elements in the Senate contributed their mite as well. I acquit Catulus and Gaius Piso and the rest of the rump, but Publius Sulla, his minion Autronius and all that lot were assiduous in helping Carbo prosecute. So was Catilina. I shan’t forget.”
“Nor shall I,” said Caesar. He tried to smile. “I love you dearly, Uncle Marcus, you know that. But not even for you will I put horns on Publius Sulla’s head by seducing Pompeius’s hag of a sister.”
That provoked a laugh, and the fresh comfort of each man’s reflecting that perhaps Publius Sulla was already reaping a little retribution by being obliged to live with Pompey’s sister, neither young nor attractive, and far too fond of the wine flagon.
*
Aulus Gabinius finally struck toward the end of February. Only he knew how difficult it had been to sit on his hands and delude Rome into thinking he, the president of the College of Tribunes of the Plebs, was a lightweight after all. Though he existed under the odium of being a man from Picenum (and Pompey’s creature), Gabinius was not precisely a New Man. His father and his uncle had sat in the Senate before him, and there was plenty of respectable Roman blood in the Gabinii besides. His ambition was to throw off Pompey’s yoke and be his own man, though a strong streak of common sense told him that he would never be powerful enough to lead his own faction. Rather, Pompey the Great wasn’t great enough. Gabinius hankered to ally himself with a more Roman man, for there were many things about Picenum and the Picentines exasperated him, particularly their attitude toward Rome. Pompey mattered more than Rome did, and Gabinius found that hard to take. Oh, it was natural enough! In Picenum Pompey was a king, and in Rome he wielded immense clout. Most men from a particular place were proud to follow a fellow countryman who had established his ascendancy over people generally considered better.
That Aulus Gabinius, fair of face and form, was dissatisfied with the idea of owning Pompey as master could be laid at n
o one else’s door than Gaius Julius Caesar’s. Much of an age, they had met at the siege of Mitylene and liked each other at once. Truly fascinated, Gabinius had watched young Caesar demonstrate a kind of ability and strength that told him he was privileged to be the friend of a man who would one day matter immensely. Other men had the looks, the height, the physique, the charm, even the ancestors; but Caesar had much more. To own an intellect like his yet be the bravest of the brave was distinction enough, for formidably intelligent men usually saw too many risks in valor. It was as if Caesar could shut anything out that threatened the enterprise of the moment. Whatever the enterprise was, he found exactly the right way to utilize only those qualities in himself able to conclude it with maximum effect. And he had a power Pompey would never have, something which poured out of him and bent everything to the shape he wanted. He counted no cost, he had absolutely no fear.
And though in the years since Mitylene they had not seen much of each other, Caesar continued to haunt Gabinius. Who made up his mind that when the day came that Caesar led his own faction, Aulus Gabinius would be one of his staunchest adherents. Though how he was going to wriggle out of his cliental obligations to Pompey, Gabinius didn’t know. Pompey was his patron, therefore Gabinius had to work for him as a proper client should. All of which meant that he struck with more intention of impressing the relatively junior and obscure Caesar than Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus, the First Man in Rome. His patron.
He didn’t bother going to the Senate first; since the full restoration of the powers of the tribunes of the plebs, that was not mandatory. Better to strike the Senate without warning by informing the Plebs first, and on a day no one could suspect might produce earthshaking changes.
Some five hundred men only were dotted around the Well of the Comitia when Gabinius ascended the rostra to speak; these were the professional Plebs, that nucleus which never missed a meeting and could recite whole memorable speeches by heart, not to mention detail plebiscites of note going back a generation at least.
The Senate House steps were not well populated either; just Caesar, several of Pompey’s senatorial clients including Lucius Afranius and Marcus Petreius, and Marcus Tullius Cicero.
“If we had ever needed reminding how serious the pirate problem is to Rome, then the sack of Ostia and the capture of our first consignment of Sicilian grain a mere three months ago ought to have administered a gigantic stimulus!” Gabinius told the Plebs—and the watchers on the Curia Hostilia steps.
“And what have we done to clear Our Sea of this noxious infestation?’’ he thundered. “What have we done to safeguard the grain supply, to ensure that the citizens of Rome do not suffer famines, or have to pay more than they can afford for bread, their greatest staple? What have we done to protect our merchants and their vessels? What have we done to prevent our daughters’ being kidnapped, our praetors’ being abducted?
“Very little, members of the Plebs. Very, very little!”
Cicero moved closer to Caesar, touched his arm. “I am intrigued,” he said, “but not mystified. Do you know where he’s going, Caesar?”
“Oh, yes.”
On went Gabinius, enjoying himself highly.
“The very little we have done since Antonius the Orator attempted his pirate purge over forty years ago started in the aftermath of our Dictator’s reign, when his loyal ally and colleague Publius Servilius Vatia went out to govern Cilicia under orders to flush out the pirates. He had a full proconsular imperium, and the authority to raise fleets from every city and state affected by pirates, including Cyprus and Rhodes. He began in Lycia, and dealt with Zenicetes. It took him three years to defeat one pirate! And that pirate was based in Lycia, not among the rocks and crags of Pamphylia and Cilicia, where the worst pirates are. The remainder of his time in the governor’s palace at Tarsus was devoted to a beautiful small war against a tribe of inland Pamphylian soil-scratching peasants, the Isauri. When he defeated them, took their two pathetic little towns captive, our precious Senate told him to tack an extra name onto Publius Servilius Vatia—Isauricus, if you please! Well, Vatia isn’t very inspiring, is it? Knock-knees for a cognomen! Can you blame the poor fellow for wanting to go from being Publius of the plebeian family Servilius who has Knock-knees, to Publius Servilius Knock-knees the Conqueror of the Isauri? You must admit that Isauricus adds a trifle more luster to an otherwise dismal name!”
To illustrate his point, Gabinius pulled his toga up to show his shapely legs from midthigh downward, and minced back and forth across the rostra with knees together and feet splayed wide apart; his audience responded by laughing and cheering.
“The next chapter in this saga,” Gabinius went on, “happened in and around the island of Crete. For no better reason than that his father the Orator—a far better and abler man who still hadn’t managed to do the job!—had been commissioned by the Senate and People of Rome to eliminate piracy in Our Sea, the son Marcus Antonius collared the same commission some seven years ago, though this time the Senate alone issued it, thanks to our Dictator’s new rules. In the first year of his campaign Antonius pissed undiluted wine into every sea at the western end of Our Sea and claimed a victory or two, but never did produce tangible evidence like spoils or ship’s beaks. Then, filling his sails with burps and farts, Antonius caroused his way to Greece. Here for two years he sallied forth against the pirate admirals of Crete, with what disastrous consequences we all know. Lasthenes and Panares just walloped him! And in the end, a broken Man of Chalk—for that too is what Creticus means!—he took his own life rather than face the Senate of Rome, his commissioner.
“After which came another man with a brilliant nickname—that Quintus Caecilius Metellus who is the grandson of Macedonicus and the son of Billy Goat—Metellus Little Goat. It would seem, however, that Metellus Little Goat aspires to be another Creticus! But will Creticus turn out to mean the Conqueror of the Cretans, or a Man of Chalk? What do you think, fellow plebeians?’’
“Man of Chalk! Man of Chalk!” came the answer.
Gabinius finished up conversationally. “And that, dear friends, brings us up to the present moment. It brings us to the debacle at Ostia, the stalemate in Crete, the inviolability of every pirate bolt-hole from Gades in Spain to Gaza in Palestina! Nothing has been done! Nothing!”
His toga being a little rumpled from demonstrating how a knock-kneed man walked, Gabinius paused to adjust it.
“What do you suggest we do, Gabinius?” called Cicero from the Senate steps.
“Why hello there, Marcus Cicero!” said Gabinius cheerfully. “And Caesar too! Rome’s best pair of orators listening to the humble pratings of a man from Picenum. I am honored, especially since you stand just about alone up there. No Catulus, no Gaius Piso, no Hortensius, no Metellus Pius Pontifex Maximus?”
“Get on with it, man,” said Cicero, in high good humor.
“Thank you, I will. What do we do, you ask? The answer is simple, members of the Plebs. We find ourselves a man. One man only. A man who has already been consul, so that there can be no doubt about his constitutional position. A man whose military career has not been fought from the front benches of the Senate like some I could name. We find that man. And by we, fellow plebeians, I mean we of this assemblage. Not the Senate! The Senate has tried all the way from knock-knees to chalky substances without success, so I say the Senate must abrogate its power in this matter, which affects all of us. I repeat, we find ourselves a man, a man who is a consular of established military ability. We then give this man a commission to clear Our Sea of piracy from the Pillars of Hercules to the mouths of Nilus, and to clear the Euxine Sea as well. We give him three years to do this, and within three years he must have done this—for if he has not, members of the Plebs, then we will prosecute him and exile him from Rome forever!”
Some of the boni had come running from whatever business engaged them, summoned by clients they put in the Forum to monitor even the least suspicious Assembly meeting. Word was spreading that Aulus Gabinius
was speaking about a pirate command, and the boni—not to mention many other factions—knew that meant Gabinius was going to ask the Plebs to give it to Pompey. Which could not be allowed to happen. Pompey must never receive another special command, never! It allowed him to think he was better and greater than his equals.
With the freedom to look around that Gabinius had not, Caesar noted Bibulus descend to the bottom of the Well, with Cato, Ahenobarbus and young Brutus behind him. An interesting quartet. Servilia wouldn’t be pleased if she heard her son was associating with Cato. A fact Brutus obviously understood; he looked hunted and furtive. Perhaps because of that he didn’t seem to listen to what Gabinius was saying, though Bibulus, Cato and Ahenobarbus had anger written large in their faces.
Gabinius ploughed on. “This man must have absolute autonomy. He must exist under no restrictions whatsoever from Senate or People once he begins. That of course means that we endow him with an unlimited imperium—but not just at sea! His power must extend inward for fifty miles on all coasts, and within that strip of land his powers must override the imperium of every provincial governor affected. He must be given at least fifteen legates of pro-praetorian status and have the freedom to choose and deploy them himself, without hindrance from anyone. If necessary he must be granted the whole contents of the Treasury, and be given the power to levy whatever he needs from money to ships to local militia in every place his imperium encompasses. He must have as many ships, fleets, flotillas as he demands, and as many of Rome’s soldiers.”
At which point Gabinius noticed the newcomers, and gave a huge, stagy start of surprise. He looked down into Bibulus’s eyes, then grinned delightedly. Neither Catulus nor Hortensius had arrived, but Bibulus, one of the heirs apparent, was enough.
“If we give this special command against the pirates to one man, members of the Plebs,” cried Gabinius, “then we may at last see the end of piracy! But if we allow certain elements in the Senate to cow us or prevent us, then we and no other body of Roman men will be directly responsible for whatever disasters follow on our failure to act. Let us get rid of piracy for once and for all! It’s time we dispensed with half-measures, compromises, sucking up to the self-importance of families and individuals who insist that the right to protect Rome is theirs alone! It’s time to finish with doing nothing! It’s time to do the job properly!”
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