Marcus Livius Drusus, who had been consul two years before, celebrated his triumph halfway through the second week of January. Assigned the province of Macedonia for his governorship in the year he was consul and lucky enough to have his command prorogued, he pursued a highly successful border war against the Scordisci, a tribe of clever and well-organized Celts who perpetually harassed Roman Macedonia. But in Marcus Livius Drusus they encountered a man of exceptional ability, and went down heavily. The result had been more beneficial than usual for Rome; Drusus was lucky enough to capture one of the largest Scordisci strongholds and find secreted within it a considerable part of the Scordisci wealth. Most governors of Macedonia celebrated triumphs at the ends of their terms, but everyone agreed Marcus Livius Drusus deserved the honor more than most. Prince Massiva was the guest of the consul Spurius Postumius Albinus at the festivities, and so was given a superb seat inside the Circus Maximus, from which vantage point he watched the long triumphal parade pass through the Circus, marveling as he discovered at first hand what he had always been told, that the Romans had real showmanship, knew better than any other people the art of staging a spectacle. His Greek of course was excellent, so he had understood his pretriumphal briefing, and was up from his seat ready to go before the last of Drusus's legions were out the Capena end of the vast arena. The whole consular party exited through a private door into the Forum Boarium, hurried up the Steps of Cacus onto the Palatine, and redoubled its pace. Steering the straightest course possible, twelve lictors led the way through almost deserted alleys, the hobnailed soles of their winter boots grinding against the cobblestones. Ten minutes after leaving their seats in the Circus Maximus, Spurius Albinus's party clattered down the Vestal Steps into the Forum Romanum, heading for the temple of Castor and Pollux. Here, on the platform at the top of the steps of this imposing edifice, both consuls were to seat themselves and their guests to watch the parade come down the Via Sacra from the Velia toward the Capitol; in order to avoid insulting the triumphator, they had to be in position when the parade appeared. "All the other magistrates and members of the Senate march at the head of the parade," Spurius Albinus had explained to Prince Massiva, "and the year's consuls are always formally invited to march, just as they're invited to the feast the triumphator gives afterward for the Senate inside the temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus. But it isn't good form for the consuls to accept either invitation. This is the triumphator's great day, and he must be the most distinguished person in the celebrations, have the most lictors. So the consuls always watch from a position of importance, and the triumphator acknowledges them as he passes yet they do not overshadow him." The prince had indicated that he understood, though his extreme foreignness and his lack of exposure to the Romans limited his understanding of the overall picture he was having explained to him. Unlike Jugurtha, he had clung to non-Roman Africa all his life. Once the consular party arrived at the junction of the Vestal Steps with the Via Nova, its onward progress was hindered by massive crowds. Rome had come out in its hundreds of thousands to see Drusus triumph, that astonishing grapevine which penetrated even into the meanest streets of the Subura having assured everyone that Drusus's triumph was going to be among the most splendid. When on duty carrying the fasces within Rome, the lictors wore plain white togas; today their garb rendered them more anonymous than usual, for Rome going to a triumph whitened itself, every last citizen clad in his toga alba instead of just a tunic. In consequence the lictors had trouble forcing a passage for the consular party, which slowed down as the crowds pressed in. By the time it arrived alongside the temple of Castor and Pollux it had virtually disintegrated as a unit, and Prince Massiva, attended by a private bodyguard, lagged behind so badly that he lost all contact with the rest. His sense of exclusivity and his un-Roman royalness stirred him to outrage at the familiar, disrespectful attitude of the hundreds thronging all around him; his bodyguards were elbowed aside, and he himself for a short moment lost sight of them. It was the short moment Lucius Decumius had been waiting for; he struck with unerring accuracy, swift and sure and sudden. Crushed against Prince Massiva by a spontaneous surge of the crowd, he slid his specially sharpened dagger under the left side of the royal rib cage, turned it immediately upward with a brutal twist, let the haft go once he knew the blade was all the way in, and had slipped between a dozen bodies long before the first blood began to flow, or Prince Massiva knew enough to cry out. Indeed, Prince Massiva did not cry out; he simply fell where he was, and by the time his bodyguard had collected itself enough to shove people aside until they could surround their slain lord, Lucius Decumius was halfway across the lower Forum heading for the haven of the Argiletum, merely one droplet in a sea of white togas. A full ten minutes passed before anyone thought to get the news to Spurius Albinus and his brother, Aulus, already installed upon the podium of the temple and unworried by Prince Massiva's nonappearance. Lictors rushed to cordon off the area, the crowd was pushed elsewhere, and Spurius and Aulus Albinus stood looking down at a dead man and ruined plans. "It will have to wait," said Spurius at last. "We cannot offend Marcus Livius Drusus by disturbing his triumph." He turned to the leader of the bodyguard, which in Prince Massiva's case was composed of hired Roman gladiators, and spoke to the man in Greek. "Carry Prince Massiva to his house, and wait there until I can come," he said. The man nodded. A rude stretcher was made from the toga given up by Aulus Albinus, the body rolled onto it and borne away by six gladiators. Aulus took the disaster less phlegmatically than his older brother; to him had fallen the bulk of Massiva's generosity so far, Spurius feeling he could afford to wait for his share until his African campaign saw Massiva installed upon the throne of Numidia. Besides which, Aulus was as impatient as he was ambitious, and anxious to outstrip Spurius age for age. "Jugurtha!" he said through his teeth. "Jugurtha did it!" "You'll never get proof," said Spurius, sighing. They climbed the steps of the temple of Castor and Pollux and resumed their seats just as the magistrates and senators appeared from behind the imposing bulk of the Domus Publicus, the State-owned house in which lived the Vestal Virgins and the Pontifex Maximus. It was a short glimpse only, but within half a moment they hove clearly into view, and the great procession rolled downhill to where the Via Sacra ended alongside the sunken well of the Comitia. Spurius and Aulus Albinus sat looking as if they had nothing on their minds beyond enjoyment of the spectacle and respect for Marcus Livius Drusus.
1. First Man in Rome Page 11