5. Caesar

by Colleen McCullough

  On the Kalends of December, Gaius Scribonius Curio summoned the Senate into session, with Gaius Marcellus Major holding the fasces; a disadvantage, Curio knew. As Pompey was in his villa on the Campus Martius, the meeting was held in his curia, a site Curio for one found unwelcome. I hope Caesar wins his battle, he thought as the House came to order, because at least Caesar will be willing to rebuild our own Curia Hostilia. "I will be brief," he said to the assembled senators, "for I am just as tired of this fruitless, idiotic impasse as you are. While ever I am in office, I will continue to exercise my veto every time this body tries to move that things be done to Gaius Julius Caesar without also being done to Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus. Therefore I am going to submit a formal motion to this House, and I will insist upon a division. If Gaius Marcellus tries to block me, I will deal with him in the traditional manner of a tribune of the plebs obstructed in the exercise of his duties I will have him thrown off the end of the Tarpeian Rock. And I mean it! I mean every word of it! If I have to summon half the Plebs who are congregated outside in the peristyle, Conscript Fathers! to assist me, I will! So be warned, junior consul. I will see a division of this House upon my motion." Lips thinned, Marcellus Major sat on his ivory curule chair and said nothing; not only did Curio mean it, Curio legally could do it. The division would have to go ahead. "My motion," said Curio, "is this: that Gaius Julius Caesar and Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus give up imperium, provinces and armies at one and the same moment. All in favor of it, please move to the right of the floor. All those opposed, please move to the left." The result was overwhelming. Three hundred and seventy of the senators stood to the right. Twenty-two stood to the left. Among the twenty-two were Pompey himself, Metellus Scipio, the three Marcelli, the consul-elect Lentulus Crus (a surprise), Ahenobarbus, Cato, Marcus Favonius, Varro, Pontius Aquila (another surprise Servilia's lover was not known to be her lover) and Gaius Cassius. "We have a decree, junior consul," said Curio jubilantly. "Implement it!" Gaius Marcellus Major rose to his feet and gestured to his lictors. "The meeting is dismissed," he said curtly, and walked out of the chamber. A good tactic, for it all happened too quickly for Curio to summon the waiting Plebs inside. The decree was a fact, but it was not implemented. Nor was it ever to be implemented. While Curio was speaking to an ecstatic crowd in the Forum, Gaius Marcellus Major called the Senate into session in the temple of Saturn, in close proximity to where Curio stood on the rostra, and a place from which the discomfited Pompey was debarred. For whatever happened from this day forward, Pompey would not be seen to be personally involved. Marcellus Major held a scroll in his hand. "I have here a communication from the duumvirs of Placentia, Conscript Fathers," he announced in ringing tones, "which informs the Senate and People of Rome that Gaius Julius Caesar has just arrived in Placentia, and has four of his legions with him. He must be stopped! He is about to march on Rome, the duumvirs have heard him say it! He will not give up his army, and he intends to use that army to conquer Rome! At this very moment he is preparing those four veteran legions to invade Italia!" The House erupted into a furor: stools overturned as men jumped to their feet, some on the back benches fled from the temple incontinently, some like Mark Antony started roaring that it was all a lie, two very aged senators fainted, and Cato began to shout that Caesar must be stopped, must be stopped, must be stopped! Into which chaos Curio arrived, chest heaving from the effort of racing across the lower Forum and up so many steps. "It's a lie!" he yelled. "Senators, senators, stop to think! Caesar is in Further Gaul, not in Placentia, and there are no legions in Placentia! Even the Thirteenth is not in Italian Gaul it's in Illyricum at Tergeste!" He turned on Marcellus Major viciously. "You conscienceless, outrageous liar, Gaius Marcellus! You scum on Rome's pond, you shit in Rome's sewers! Liar, liar, liar!" "House dismissed!" Marcellus Major screamed, pushed Curio aside so hard that he staggered, and left the temple of Saturn. "Lies!" Curio went on shouting to those who remained. "The junior consul lied to save Pompeius's skin! Pompeius doesn't want to lose his provinces or his army! Pompeius, Pompeius, Pompeius! Open your eyes! Open your minds! Marcellus lied! He lied to protect Pompeius! Caesar is not in Placentia! There are not four legions in Placentia! Lies, lies, lies!" But no one listened. Horrified and terrified, the Senate of Rome disintegrated. "Oh, Antonius!" wept Curio when they occupied the temple of Saturn alone. "I never thought Marcellus would go so far it never occurred to me that he'd lie! He's tainted their cause beyond redemption! Whatever happens to Rome now rests upon a lie!" "Well, Curio, you know where to look, don't you?" snarled Antony. "It's that turd Pompeius, it's always that turd Pompeius! Marcellus is a liar, but Pompeius is a sneak. He won't say so, but he will never give up his precious position as First Man in Rome." "Oh, where is Caesar?" Curio wailed. "The Gods forbid he's still in Nemetocenna!'' "If you hadn't left home so early this morning to trumpet in the Forum, Curio, you would have found his letter," Antony said. "We've both got one. And he's not in Nemetocenna. He was there just long enough to shift Trebonius and his four legions to the Mosa between the Treveri and the Remi, then he left to see Fabius. Who is now in Bibracte with the other four. Caesar is in Ravenna." Curio gaped. "Ravenna? He couldn't be!" "Huh!" grunted Antony. "He travels like the wind, and he didn't slow himself down with any legions. They're all still where they ought to be, across the Alps. But he's in Ravenna." "What are we going to do? What can we tell him?" "The truth," said Antony calmly. "We're just his lackeys, Curio, and never forget it. He's the one will make the decisions."

  Gaius Claudius Marcellus Major had made a decision. As soon as he dismissed the Senate he walked out to Pompey's villa on the Campus Martius, accompanied by Cato, Ahenobarbus, Metellus Scipio and the two consuls-elect: his cousin Gaius Marcellus Minor and Lentulus Crus. About halfway there the servant Marcellus Major had sent running back to his house on the Palatine returned bearing Marcellus Major's own sword. Like most swords owned by noblemen, it was the usual two-foot-long, wickedly-sharp-on-both-sides Roman gladius; where it differed from the weapons carried by ordinary soldiers was in its scabbard, made of silver preciously wrought, and in its handle, made of ivory carved as a Roman Eagle. Pompey met them at the door himself and admitted them into his study, where a servant poured wine-and-water for everyone save Cato, who rejected the water with loathing. Pompey waited with fretful impatience for the man to distribute these refreshments and go; in fact, he would not have offered did this deputation not look as if its members badly needed a drink. "Well?" he demanded. "What happened?" In answer, Marcellus Major silently extended his sheathed sword to Pompey. Startled, Pompey took it in a reflex action and stared at it as if he had never seen a sword before. He wet his lips. "What does this mean?" he asked fearfully. "Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus," said Marcellus Major very solemnly, "I hereby authorize you on behalf of the Senate and People of Rome to defend the State against Gaius Julius Caesar. In the name of the Senate and People of Rome, I formally confer on you possession and use of the two legions, the Sixth and Fifteenth, sent by Caesar to Capua, and further commission you to commence recruiting more legions until you can bring your own army from the Spains. There is going to be civil war." The brilliant blue eyes had widened; Pompey stared down at the sword again, licked his lips again. "There is going to be civil war," he said slowly. "I didn't think it would come to that. I really didn't...." He tensed. "Where's Caesar? How many legions does he have in Italian Gaul? How far has he marched?" "He has one legion, and he hasn't marched," said Cato. "He hasn't marched? He which legion?" "The Thirteenth. It's in Tergeste," Cato answered. "Then then what happened? Why are you here? Caesar won't march with one legion!" "So we think," said Cato. "That's why we're here. To deflect him from the ultimate treason, a march on Rome. Our junior consul will inform Caesar that steps have been taken, and the whole business will come to nothing. We're getting in first." "Oh, I see," said Pompey, handing the sword back to Marcellus Major. "Thank you, I appreciate the significance of the gesture, but I have my own sword and it is always ready to draw in defense of my coun
try. I'll gladly take command of the two legions in Capua, but is it really necessary to start recruiting?" "Definitely," said Marcellus Major firmly. "Caesar has to be made to see that we are in deadly earnest." Pompey swallowed. "And the Senate?" he asked. "The Senate," said Ahenobarbus, "will do as it's told." "But it authorized this visit, of course." Marcellus Major lied again. "Of course," he said. It was the second day of December.

  On the third day of December, Curio learned what had happened at Pompey's villa and went back to the House in righteous anger. Ably assisted by Antony, he accused Marcellus Major of treason and appealed to the Conscript Fathers to back him to acknowledge that Caesar had done no wrong to admit that there were no legions save the Thirteenth in Italian Gaul and to see that the entire crisis had been maliciously manufactured by, at most, seven boni and Pompey. But a lot stayed away, and those who came seemed so dazed and confused that they were incapable of any kind of response, let alone sensible action. Curio and Antony got nowhere. Marcellus Major continued to obstruct everything beyond Pompey's entitlement to defend the State. Which he made no attempt to legitimize. On the sixth day of December, while Curio battled on in the Senate, Aulus Hirtius arrived in Rome, commissioned by Caesar to see what could be retrieved. But when Curio and Antony told him of the giving of the sword to Pompey, and of Pompey's accepting it, he despaired. Balbus had set up a meeting for him with Pompey on the following morning, but Hirtius didn't go. What was the use, he asked himself, if Pompey had accepted the sword? Better by far to hurry back to Ravenna and inform Caesar of events in person; all he had to go on was letters. Pompey didn't wait overlong for Hirtius on the morning of the seventh day of December; well before noon he was on his way to inspect the Sixth and the Fifteenth in Capua. The last day of Curio's memorable tribunate of the plebs was the ninth one of December. Exhausted, he spoke yet again in the House to no avail, then left that evening for Caesar in Ravenna. The baton had passed to Mark Antony, universally despised as a slug.

  Cicero had arrived in Brundisium toward the end of November, to find himself met by Terentia; her advent did not astonish him, as she needed to make up a great deal of lost ground. For, with her active connivance, Tullia had married Dolabella. A match Cicero had opposed strongly, wanting his daughter to go to Tiberius Claudius Nero, a very haughty young patrician senator of limited intelligence and no charm. The great advocate's displeasure was increased by his anxiety for his beloved secretary, Tiro, who had fallen ill in Patrae and had to be left behind. Then it was further exacerbated when he learned that Cato had moved a triumph for Bibulus, after which he voted against awarding a triumph to Cicero. "How dare Cato!" fumed Cicero to his wife. "Bibulus never even left his house in Antioch, whereas I fought battles!" "Yes, dear," said Terentia automatically, zeroing in on her own goals. "But will you consent to meet Dolabella? Once you do meet him you'll understand completely why I didn't oppose the union at all." Her ugly face lit up. "He's delightful, Marcus, truly delightful! Witty, intelligent and so devoted to Tullia." "I forbade it!" cried Cicero. "I forbade it, Terentia! You had absolutely no right to let it happen!" "Listen, husband," hissed that redoubtable lady, thrusting her beak into Cicero's face, "Tullia is twenty-seven years old! She doesn't need your permission to marry!" "But I'm the one who has to find the dowry, so I'm the one who should pick her husband!" roared Cicero, emboldened as the result of spending many months far away from Terentia, during which he had proven himself an admirable governor with a great deal of authority. Authority should extend to the domestic sphere. She blinked at being defied, but she didn't back down. "Too late!" she roared, even more loudly. "Tullia married Dolabella, and you'll find her dowry or I'll personally castrate you!" Thus it was that Cicero journeyed up the Italian peninsula from Brundisium accompanied by a shrew of a wife who was not about to accord him the inalienable rights of the paterfamilias. He reconciled himself to having to meet the odious Dolabella. Which he did in Beneventum, discovering to his consternation that he was no more proof against Dolabella's charms than Terentia. To cap matters, Tullia was pregnant, a fate which had not been her lot with either of her two previous husbands. Dolabella also informed his father-in-law about the hideous events occurring in Rome, clapped Cicero on the back and galloped off back to Rome to be, as he put it, a part of the fray. "I'm for Caesar, you know!" he yelled from the safety of his horse. "Good man, Caesar!" No more litters. Cicero hired a carriage in Beneventum and continued into western Campania at an accelerated pace. He found Pompey in residence at Pompeii, where Cicero had a snug little villa himself, and sought information from one of the few men he thought might actually know what really was going on. "I received two letters yesterday in Trebula," he said to Pompey, frowning in puzzlement. "One was from Balbus, and one from none other than Caesar himself. So sweet and friendly... Anything either of them could do for me, it would be an honor to witness my well-deserved triumph, did I need a trifling loan? What's the man doing that for, if he's marching on Rome? Why is he courting me? He knows very well I've never been a partisan." "Well, actually," said Pompey uneasily, "Gaius Marcellus rather took the bit between his teeth. Did things he wasn't officially authorized to do. Though I didn't know it at the time, Cicero, I swear I didn't. You've heard he gave me a sword, and that I took it?" "Yes, Dolabella told me." "Trouble is, I assumed the Senate had sent him with the sword. But the Senate hadn't. So here I am betwixt Scylla and Charybdis, more or less committed to defending the State, taking over command of two legions which have fought for Caesar for years, and starting to recruit all over Campania, Samnium, Lucania and Apulia. But it isn't really legal, Cicero. The Senate didn't commission me, nor is there a Senatus Consultum Ultimum in effect. Yet I know civil war is upon us." Cicero's heart sank. "Are you sure, Gnaeus Pompeius? Are you really sure? Have you consulted anyone other than rabid boars like Cato and the Marcelli? Have you talked to Atticus, any of the other important knights? Have you sat in the Senate?" "How can I sit in the Senate when I'm recruiting troops?" snarled Pompey. "And I did see Atticus a few days ago. Well, quite a few days ago, actually, though it seems like yesterday." "Magnus, are you sure civil war can't be averted?" "Absolutely," said Pompey very positively. "There will be civil war, it's certain. That's why I'm glad to be out of Rome for a while. Easier to think things through. Because we can't let Italia suffer yet again, Cicero. This war against Caesar cannot be let happen on Italian soil. It must be fought abroad. Greece, I think, or Macedonia. East of Italia, anyway. The whole of the East is in my clientele; I can drum up support everywhere from Actium to Antioch. And I can bring my Spanish legions directly from Spain without landing them on Italian soil. Caesar has nine legions left, plus about twenty-two cohorts of recruits freshly levied from across the Padus. I have seven legions in the Spains, two legions in Capua, and however many cohorts I can recruit now. There are two legions in Macedonia, three in Syria, one in Cilicia and one in Asia Province. I can also demand troops from Deiotarus of Galatia and Ariobarzanes of Cappadocia. If necessary, I'll also demand an army from Egypt and bring the African legion over too. Whichever way you look at it, I ought to have upward of sixteen Roman legions, ten thousand foreign auxiliaries, and oh, six or seven thousand horse." Cicero sat and stared at him, heart sinking. "Magnus, you can't remove legions from Syria with the Parthians threatening!" "My sources say there is no threat, Cicero. Orodes is having trouble at home. He shouldn't have executed the Surenas and then Pacorus. Pacorus was his own son." "But but oughtn't you be trying to conciliate with Caesar first? I know from Balbus's letter that he's working desperately to avert a confrontation." "Pah!" spat Pompey, sneering. "You know nothing about it, Cicero! Balbus went to great lengths to make sure I didn't leave for Campania at dawn on the Nones, assured me that Caesar had sent Aulus Hirtius especially to see me. So I wait, and I wait, and then I discover that Hirtius turned round and went back to Caesar in Ravenna without so much as trying to keep his appointment with me! That's how much Caesar wants peace, Cicero! It's all a big front, this Balbus-instigated lobbying!
I tell you straight that Caesar is bent on civil war. Nothing will deflect him. And I have made up my mind. I will not fight a civil war on Italian soil; I will fight him in Greece or Macedonia." But, thought Cicero, scribbling a letter to Atticus in Rome, it isn't Caesar bent on civil war or at least, not Caesar alone. Magnus is absolutely set on it, and thinks that all will be forgiven and forgotten if he makes sure Italia doesn't have to suffer the civil war on her own soil. He's found his way out.