Silently, the senators filed into the bleachers as the consuls took their curule chairs and the lictors ranged themselves before the serving magistrates. Gabinius took his own place without comment. He knew the boy had them now, as surely as a man who has thoroughly seduced a woman—not by the glory of his arms, or the greatness of his accomplishments. No, he had won them more subtly, using a great national weakness: the Romans' childlike love of spectacle. He was putting on a presentation worthy of the funeral games for a great leader.
Now young Norbanus was joined by the previous year's consul, his father. The elder Norbanus wore military uniform, ready to take up a proconsular command voted by the Senate. He looked upon his son and beamed with pride. At precisely the right moment, young Norbanus stepped out onto the sea and walked across it as if he were able to stride upon water. The spectators gasped. A man dared to walk on silk!
"Noble senators, revered consuls," young Norbanus began, "I return to you with a vast treasure, more wealth than Rome ever saw in her most glorious days before Hannibal. Even now, my slaves prepare to carry the bulk of it to the Temple of Saturn." From ancient times, the crypts beneath that temple had served as Rome's principal treasury.
"I bring four legions, experienced as no legions have ever before been, accompanied by auxilia who have volunteered themselves to Rome's service. All these fighting men, the finest in the world, await the orders of the noble Senate." He paused and looked over his map, half turning to take it all in, like Jupiter himself surveying his kingdom. "And yet this treasure is not safe. Rome is not safe. Because, senators and consuls, Carthage still stands!" On the last three words his voice rose to a thrilling shout. He held them spellbound, experienced orators though they were.
"Senators, I stand before you as Rome's most loyal servant. Outside stand Rome's most capable soldiers. Use us! I did not just lead the greatest march in Roman history so that • I could stay here and build a villa and bask in the admiration of my peers. Senators, my march is not yet half-completed!"
The senators muttered and looked at one another. What could he mean?
"Senators, for more than a hundred years we let our minds be fixated upon one thought: Destroy Carthage! Like a man tracking a lion to its den, we thought only of going south, taking Sicily, and jumping off from there to attack the great city itself. We thought about this so single-mindedly that we left a back door open to the Carthaginians. We forgot that they could attack us from the north, despite the fact that Hannibal did that very thing! Only by luck and the favor of the gods did we survive this blunder. The soldiers fought like Romans always do, and the Carthaginian general, while better than ours, was no Hannibal. Look!"
He pointed a beringed finger at the golden model of Rome, then drew an imaginary line along the Italian coast northward to Cisalpine Gaul, then along its southern coast and that of Spain.
"I propose that I take my army and march north. I will pick up the legions that replaced those lost at the Arnus and with them proceed through Gaul to Spain and the Pillars of Hercules. I will take every city along my route: Massilia, Narbo, Cartago Nova and the rest. I will reduce them and make them swear obedience to Rome. Any natives who resist I will crush. Any Carthaginian army I meet I will destroy, and I swear by all the gods that I will not spare a single man who takes the pay of Hamilcar. All must die."
Now he looked at Africa. "From Spain I will cross the strait to Mauretania and then march east. I will make alliance with the kings and chieftains of Numidia and Libya. Failing that, I will crush them, too. I will strike the city of Carthage from the west, while the main force strikes from Sicily. We will have Carthage in a vise and she will crack open like rotten wood."
"How will such a campaign be supported, even supposing we agree to it?" Gabinius asked.
"I have a navy now, a very large one. It will accompany my march and will deal with any Carthaginian fleet that dares show itself."
An elderly Brutus stood. "Your army! Your fleet! Have you become Rome, young Norbanus?"
Norbanus did not flinch. "We knew what the gods wanted when the eagles flew south from Noricum. I think the gods have now shown that they favor me. Dare their displeasure if you will."
The Senate held its collective breath, but Jupiter sent no lightning.
"And I want the main thrust, to be launched from Sicily, to be commanded by my father, Titus Norbanus the elder."
The uproar was fit to rend the roof and send it skyward in tattered ribbons. The consuls sent their lictors into the bleachers to enforce silence.
"General Norbanus," said the Consul Gracchus when order was restored, "we cannot contemplate a major campaign in which members of the same family hold the highest command. We have already apportioned military duties for the upcoming invasion of Africa. Your father, the Proconsul Norbanus, of course has a splendid command, with three legions assigned to the first thrust against Carthage. But overall command has been given to the Proconsul Scaeva, hero of Syracuse. You both deserve honor, but not this." There came a rumble of agreement.
Now the elder Norbanus stepped forward. He had nothing like his son's dash and flair, and he wore plain iron mail of Gallic make and carried a simple bronze helmet beneath his arm, but he was a man of impressive gravity. "Noble senators, there will be quibbling in this house until we all die of old age. My son's war plan is bold, but it is worthy of Rome, where only greatness is acceptable. You may call for a division of the house, you may call for ten divisions. It does not matter, because this will be determined by the Roman people."
He swept the assembled senators with his eagle gaze. "Even now, the tribunes of the plebs are calling for an assembly. The Tribune Aemilius will place before the people a new law, the lex Aemilia, which will assign the commands for this war exactly as has just been outlined to you. That law will pass, I assure you. You can accede gracefully and ratify the law, or you can continue in stiff-necked opposition, but then you will only earn the contempt the people always give to obstinate aristocrats."
In the low mutter that followed this statement, Gabinius sat with his eyes closed, feeling every one of his many years. Much was clear now. All year there had been rumors: that young Norbanus was sending chests of money from the East, that some decidedly odd men were standing for the office of tribune of the plebs. He had paid little attention at the time. Strange things were bound to happen when all the best men were away with the legions. Now he understood what had been happening all along. The Norbani had accomplished something very like a coup.
He looked around at his fellow senators. Had this been an ordinary session, had the younger senators not been away on military service, violence would have broken out by now. Weapons might have been drawn. These men were too old or unfit, to resist strongly, and that, too, had been a part of the Norbanus plan. He rose, leaning on his walking stick, and slowly the Senate quieted.
"My colleagues, I see that a new star has risen in the Roman firmament. In the past, since we expelled the Etruscan kings, it has been our practice to see that no one family, no one man, ever held the power that we once granted only to kings. But who is to say that this did not bring upon us many disastrous defeats? Perhaps a Roman king would have crushed Hannibal in the first battle. No matter. What is absolutely clear is that these are extraordinary times. At this hour, we are as the Greek army before Troy, when the actions of Agamemnon offended Apollo. Are we to send Achilles to his tent to sulk in the hour when we need him most?" He gestured eloquently in supplication to his peers. Then he went on.
"I think not. You all know me. None has been so firm in opposing the pretensions of military adventurers. None has been so staunch in defense of our ancient liberties. Yet, all of you know me as a voice of reason. When many accused young Scipio of treason, I counseled that we give him his head. He is doing something new; let us see what he can make of it. When others said that young Norbanus was far exceeding the authority granted him, I said that we put him in a terrible position, let him extricate himself and his men as
he may. And now who can say that he has not succeeded gloriously?
"Now this same youth proposes something incredible. He wants to finish a complete circumambulation of the Middle Sea by a Roman army, finishing with a siege of Carthage. Is this overweening ambition? Absolutely. But I agree with his father. This thing is worthy! The gods do not expect less of us. I, wholeheartedly and in advance of any decision by the Consilium Plebis, say that we must give Norbanus the younger what he demands." Abruptly, he sat. He hoped fervently that his colleagues would understand his implication: that by conceding, they set the incredibly ambitious boy up to fail in a spectacular manner. And if he should succeed?
Well, Gabinius thought, perhaps this is the future and the will of the gods: that Rome be ruled henceforth by its best generals instead of its oldest families. Who is to say that this is not just?
While the Senate debated, the two Norbani came to speak with the princeps.
"That was the sort of statesmanship that raised Rome to power over the barbarians," the elder Norbanus said.
"I did not expect this, Princeps," said the younger.
Hands folded atop his cane, Gabinius studied the glittering boy before him. "You have risen far and fast, young Titus. Men have risen so before. Rome has a way of raising such men in times of crisis. Rome also has a way of tearing them down as swiftly."
The father smiled crookedly. "You think I haven't told him that?"
"You are making mortal enemies," Gabinius pointed out.
"The greatness of a man is, judged by the number and quality of his enemies," said Norbanus the younger. "What else is the point of our lives?" It was the simple philosophy of the Senate, an intensely competitive body of men in which each strove for honor above his peers.
"Much leeway is granted the truly gifted among us," Gabinius told him. "Those touched by the gods are not always treated as ordinary men. But their actions must always be understood to be for Rome's benefit, not their own."
Young Norbanus bristled, but his father. stepped in smoothly. "No one has ever accused the Norbani of disloyalty, or of striving for their own glory to the detriment of Rome's welfare. But this is our hour, and Rome will be the greater for it."
Gabinius nodded, knowing destiny when it stared him in the face. In time the senators came to an agreement and they descended from the seats, coming down onto the "sea" to congratulate the Norbani.
I have lived to see the Senate of Rome walking on silk, Gabinius thought. What can this portend for the future?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
"My instructions are quite unequivocal," Marcus Scipio explained. "I am to proceed against Carthage upon orders from the Senate, which, it is implied, will not be long in coming."
"You won't frighten the Carthaginians much," said Selene. "Just two Romans, though I've given you impressive uniforms."
The Romans and the de facto queen of Egypt were alone in her conference room, as Scipio had insisted.
"It is understood that I will arrive at the harbor of Carthage with a sizable navy, including the new vessels designed by the Archimedeans."
"I believe the navy you refer to is the Egyptian navy, not the Roman. It is mine."
"And, Your Majesty," Flaccus said smoothly, "it is for that very reason that we speak with you today. Rome is at war with Carthage. Egypt is at war with Carthage. An alliance only makes sense."
"Why?" she asked. "Hamilcar attacked Alexandria. Hamilcar was defeated. He has gone back to Carthage. I do not see why I should undertake an expensive, destructive war out of pique."
"Majesty," Scipio said, trying to hold his temper, "it is not enough to drive an enemy away. To be safe, you must track him to his lair and destroy both the enemy and the lair. It is the only way."
"Say you so?" She studied him coolly. "I am most grateful for your contributions to the defense of Alexandria, yet I recall that there were Roman legions with Hamilcar's army. They were instrumental in defeating my brother's force in the first battle, and then they ravaged their way down the Nile doing great harm."
"Yes," Flaccus agreed, "but there was no Rome-Carthage alliance. The agreement was purely one of convenience, and terminated when we invaded Sicily."
"I see," she said without expression. "And what if it should suit your 'convenience' to turn against Egypt as well? How am I to know that you will treat me any less treacherously than you treated Hamilcar?"
"Treachery?" Scipio shouted, his face going crimson. "There was no treachery! Hamilcar insisted on regarding the legions as mercenaries, mere hirelings. That in itself was a deadly insult! Rome owed him no friendship, no loyalty."
"If, on the other hand," Flaccus added, "Your Majesty signs a treaty of alliance with Rome, your position will be absolutely unassailable. Your enemies become ours and you may call upon the legions of Rome at any threat. This is no small thing. Rome is most scrupulous about observing the particulars of treaties."
"Let me think about this," she said. "You will have my answer tomorrow. You have my leave to go now."
The men bowed and withdrew. They left the conference room and passed through a crowd of courtiers, their faces set in the impassive Roman mask. They crossed a wide courtyard and entered their own quarters, where Scipio threw his helmet across the room against the wall. It fell to the floor, flattened on one side and its precious plumes tattered.
"Damn the woman!" he shouted. "Two years of sweet talk and cooperation—I save her city, her kingdom, her throne and her life, and this is how she treats us! How am I to face the Senate if I can't get an Egyptian alliance after all this!"
"Calm yourself, Marcus," Flaccus said, pouring them both some wine. "She is just playing with us. She wants to remind us that she is a sovereign queen—"
"She's not a sovereign queen," Scipio reminded him. "She's a princess and her brother is the king. She rules through our actions and favor."
"Nonetheless, she does not want to be seen as our puppet. Her court and the city of Alexandria must perceive her as a divine ruler and descendant of Ptolemy the Great, not a client of the Roman Senate. They've deposed other rulers who showed themselves to be under the thumb of foreigners. Believe me, she knows that her only future lies in alliance with Rome. She just has to grant it, not beg for it."
"Graciously grant this to me, eh?" He thumped himself on his bronze-sheathed chest. "The man to whom she owes everything?"
"Rulers don't like to be reminded of their debts," Flaccus told him. "They'd rather be praised for their greatness." He paused. "You must face it, Marcus: You have no legions. You can't impose your will on a foreign ruler, like Norbanus."
"Norbanus!" Scipio said, exasperated. Friends in Rome had sent them word of his new march and the war plan. "The gods must love him. He will be immortal."
"He's just been lucky," Flaccus said. "He was born to an important family; he was chosen for the reconnaissance mission; he was on the spot when a commander was needed and it coincided with his father's consulship. Then he made his march just at a time when the territory he went through was disorganized and fought over by petty princelings."
"Luck like that is proof of the gods' favor."
"This is not like you, Marcus. You shouldn't allow a schoolboy rivalry to sour you. Your own accomplishments have been fabulous."
"I don't envy the reputation he's won!" He took a deep swallow from the golden cup, then set it on an ivory-inlaid table. "Not much, anyway. No, the man is a menace to the republic. He wants to make himself dictator, or king."
"Your enemies in the Senate say exactly the same of you," Flaccus pointed out.
"Yes, but my enemies are wrong, whereas I am right. His own father to command the main army! How could he make his dynastic ambitions more plain? And taking his army on a complete circuit of the Middle Sea! He's just doing it because no one else has done it before!"
Flaccus nodded somberly. "Yes, the expense in boots and hobnails alone must be staggering."
"Don't be flippant," Marcus said disgustedly.
"You know he's overreaching himself. His battle experience hasn't been great, and Carthage will be throwing its best against him. He's being set up to fail; that's the only explanation why the Senate has gone along with his harebrained scheme."
Scipio refilled his cup and stared into it gloomily. "It's not that bad a scheme, you know, just ambitious. I might have proposed such a thing myself, only I would have waited until all these new legions were more experienced and our leadership had a better grasp of how to command and coordinate so many men. As it is, there are too many ways for things to go wrong. We'll be trying to coordinate the movements of large armies over vast distances…" He trailed off, his eyes going vacant.
That was more like it, Flaccus thought. Now his friend was going over the possibilities in his mind, finding applications for the new inventions of the Archimedean school.
"They say Norbanus has a pair of Eastern women to read the stars for him," Flaccus remarked. "Alexandria is full of astrologers and I have been speaking with the Egyptian and Greek priests about them. They seem about evenly divided whether the stars are of any use in foretelling the future. Norbanus seems to set great store by these two."
"It's a weakness," Scipio said. "They're just telling him what he wants to hear."
"That has long been a major part of the seer's art," Flaccus said. "That and being equivocal, making statements that could be interpreted more than one way and fitting any outcome."
"What are you getting at?" Marcus asked, knowing his friend all too well.
"As you pointed out, this reliance upon soothsayers is a weakness, and an enemy's weakness is something to be exploited."
"Subvert his astrologers? But how? They are rather far away, you know."
"True, true. But we are in the process of turning the Middle Sea into a Roman lake. The Archimedeans have designed some extremely swift vessels. Why should we not wish to keep in contact with Norbanus's army on its march? It only makes military sense."
"It does," Scipio agreed. "The Senate will resent such collusion. They would prefer to hold the reins."
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