“Gaius told me he has invited Cornelia to Rome,” said Licinia. “How soon will she be here?”
“In a couple of days. I hope the meeting goes well.”
“What do you anticipate? I know that Cornelia has distanced herself from Gaius’ political ambitions.”
“They’ve had a disagreement. I think Gaius wants to talk to her rather than exchange letters. Has he mentioned anything to you?”
“No, he’s been unusually quiet since her second letter. What do you think? Not just about this second law, but his career in politics?”
“I’ve tried not to be judgmental, Licinia. He seems to be far better prepared than Tiberius was and has several more bills that he plans to promote.”
“Do you worry about—about what could happen?”
I knew immediately what she meant. She had never mentioned it before. “Could Gaius be victimized like his brother? Yes, I do worry about that, and so does Cornelia, but it seems unlikely. I think Rome has made progress since then. Besides, the first law Gaius passed should prevent it.”
“But there were laws before, Sempronia. A tribune was deemed untouchable.”
“Well, yes, some men felt that they were above the law.”
Licinia bowed her head. When she looked up at me, her eyes glistened with forming tears. “I want him to quit,” she said haltingly. “When we first married I was surprised how little he cared about politics. I even hoped that would change. But I’m scared now that he’s a tribune and fully immersed in it.”
“And doing remarkably well.”
Licinia shook her head sadly. “So well a faction against Gaius is gaining influence in the Senate. Some of these men still have blood on their hands from nine years ago.” She wiped her eyes. “Is there any chance Cornelia could talk him out of what he’s doing?”
“And quit the tribunate? No. Even should she try, Gaius would certainly finish what he’s started.”
“But he’s got ten more months,” she gasped.
“And six or seven more laws to pass.” I took her hand. “I’m frightened too, Licinia. I try not to think about it. Cornelia has made a stand and it troubles Gaius. I just don’t want to make things any harder on him than they already are.”
“I’m afraid he will lecture her, and it will only make things worse.”
“I have thought the same thing. But he asked me to be there when he speaks to her. I think that’s a good thing. I think it shows that he’s concerned about his own reaction to her.”
“Maybe both of you can talk him out of it.”
“Have you said anything to Gaius about your fears?”
“Absolutely not. He has enough on his plate already. I keep it all to myself.” She looked into my eyes. “And now I’ve told you.”
I embraced her.
“You are a good sister, Sempronia. Both Gaius and I know that. Thank you for listening to his weak wife.” Then she sat back. “How is Claudia? Didn’t you just see her?”
“Yes, two months ago.” The whole experience at the circle arose in my memory. I pushed it aside. “Claudia is having a hard time also. She wants to remarry and is worried it will upset Cornelia.”
“I can see how she might think that. Did she tell you this?”
I nodded.
“Has she met a man?”
“No. It’s something she’s just begun to think about.”
The two boys suddenly ran into the atrium, the older chasing the younger. Publius was crying. “Tell Gaius to stop stabbing me.”
“He needs to learn to defend himself, Mother,” followed Gaius right behind his brother.
Licinia wagged her head like a mother. “You must be careful, Gaius. He’s not as big or as strong as you.”
“But fighting me will make him better. One always encounters someone bigger and stronger in battle.”
“That’s no reason to bully Publius. We’d like him to live through his childhood.”
“Yeah,” said Publius.
“Then how will I get any better if I can’t really practice my skills?”
“Find another boy to joust with. I’m sure there’s a bigger boy out there somewhere to give you a fair test.”
Gaius raised his wooden sword in the air. “I doubt it, Mother. I’ll be as good as Father. You watch.” Then he dashed off. Publius ran after him.
Licinia looked at me. “Please don’t mention our conversation to anyone.”
“I won’t. Just have faith in Gaius.”
CHAPTER 72
Cornelia arrived in Rome three days after I spoke to Licinia. She stayed at my house. Gaius came over the next morning. He embraced Cornelia upon seeing her, but she was stiff and resistant. Gaius pushed my wheelchair into the library and Cornelia followed. After Nadia brought us cups of posca, I gave her some chores to keep her busy while we talked in private. Cornelia sat at the table. Gaius stood in the corner beside Archimedes’ terrella. Both were visibly uneasy. Cornelia had led the family since our father’s death. The current clash with Gaius marked the first time there had been any real challenge to her authority. But she was getting older and Gaius had become an individual with a powerful presence.
“I’m glad you’ve come, Mother. I was worried that you might not want to see me at all.”
Cornelia met Gaius’ gaze. “It wasn’t easy for me to come here. We’ve never disagreed, and it doesn’t settle well with me now.”
Gaius nodded, then paced across the room. “But we need to talk. Shutting off communication gets us nowhere. Isolated letters feel like ultimatums. We’ve never had that in our family.”
“No, and you’re right, Gaius, that’s not how we should proceed. Despite my reluctance, I appreciate your inviting me to Rome.”
Gaius took a deep breath. “As you know, Mother, I was elected to the tribunate. That was not what you wanted. And you made that clear. I went ahead anyway, but not because I wanted to add pain to your life, but because I felt obligated to fulfill Tiberius’ dream. Giving my loyalty to his memory doesn’t diminish my loyalty to you. It was simply a decision that I had to make for myself, as a man.”
Cornelia went straight to her point. “And it includes revenge?”
“In this case, yes—but the law is also right. It keeps corrupt officials out of government.”
“If you must be a politician, Gaius, then please learn to take the high road.” Anger spiked behind her words. “It was when your brother began to waver from his highest ideals that he ran into difficulties. And that’s what I see in this second bill of yours. You’re targeting one man, and it’s unbecoming of a Gracchi.”
Gaius strode back across the library to where he had stood before. “But what about the first bill? It was aimed specifically at two individuals. One might argue it was more vengeful than my current proposal. Are you going to ask me to repeal it also?”
I had never heard them speak to each other this way. It made me feel small.
“I saw that first law differently,” Cornelia answered, fully as firm in her stance as Gaius was in his. “It was a necessary law, far more necessary than this second, and it addressed a crime far more vicious than Orestes’ being bought out. Those two consuls executed some thirty men without a trial. That was flagrant disrespect for the rights of citizenship and the meaning of the Republic. The crime was against the people, not specifically against you or our family. And that’s why I care so much. Everything you do reflects upon my name and the Gracchi name. We take the high road. That’s what the name of Tiberius Gracchus stands for. That’s what I stand for.”
Gaius stalked back across the room. “But the high road also means standing up for the people. My father and my brother were both tribunes for that reason. My becoming a tribune is fulfillment of my family duty.”
“But I don’t want you dead for it.”
“You’re exaggerating the risk. I’m pursuing my fate. It’s what I must do. Regardless of what you might think of this one law, can you at least see that? How do we proceed if you c
an’t?”
“Remove the bull’s-eye from Octavius’ chest. Concede the portion of the law that makes it retroactive,” I said, surprised that I was speaking at all. “And in exchange, Mother, allow that what Gaius has said is true. Neither you nor I want him risking his life in the underworld that is Roman politics, and yet our own family tradition, which he seeks to honor, demands that he engage, that he promote change.”
Gaius glanced at me.
Cornelia did not miss it. “Are you both conspiring against me?” she snapped.
“No. I’m conspiring to bring you both together. Consider what I asked. Gaius, you too.”
“I’m not sure if I can do that,” said Gaius, standing beside the bust of his grandfather. “Not at this stage in the process. We’re two weeks into the review of the law. The vote is next week. It’s going to pass. How could I possibly change it now?”
“And I can’t condone Gaius’ presence in Roman politics,” countered Cornelia. “For all the good he might hope to do, in the end his actions will weaken the Republic. The Senate needs to have its power, Gaius, and I fear you will not be content until you have taken it all away.”
It was the most conservative thing I had ever heard her say. It exposed her frustration and restated the optimates’ fundamental principle—the people with the longest lineages and the best blood were also, in fact, the best men; their leadership was imperative to the advancement of Rome.
Gaius did not back down. Cornelia’s statement angered him. He strode back across the room to the terrella. “I have already written a preliminary schedule for the introduction of several new bills. None of them can be considered vengeful in the slightest. I want to lower the price of wheat for the common citizen. I want to build roads, and I want to build granaries along those roads so the wheat is easily available. I will forgo the confiscation and redistribution of land in the way that Tiberius proposed. Instead I will concentrate on using the public land to build colonies, with the intent of avoiding the legal problems that have plagued the land commission. I can achieve the same or better results without having to take land away from our hallowed senators. It can be done.”
“But you can’t change your current proposal?”
“Without loss of prestige, Sempronia? No!”
“What if you told the populace that your mother made the request? That might protect your prestige.”
“I haven’t agreed to anything yet,” said Cornelia.
“Think about it, Gaius.” I rolled my chair closer to him. “What you fear would be a loss of prestige might result in a gain of respect. By openly crediting the removal of the retroactive portion of your bill to Cornelia, whom everyone admires, you regain the high ground and Mother’s support.”
Gaius tilted his head, then used his hand to spin the terrella as he puzzled over my proposition.
I turned my chair to face my mother. “Can you agree to this, Mother?” I could see it in her eyes. She had finally been tempted enough by my offer to think about it.
Cornelia pursed her lips, fighting her emotions. “Gaius, if you pull the offending portion of the second law, I will accept that you have chosen a career in politics.”
Gaius was not quite sure. After a moment he realized he had to make a concession of some kind. “I’ll do it then. Yes, absolutely, I’ll do it.” He actually laughed. He came over to me and placed his hand on my shoulder. “I’ll turn the whole thing into something positive as well as regain my mother.”
“In some limited way,” she said, giving in as little as possible.
“Good enough.” Gaius leaned over and kissed Cornelia on the forehead. She dabbed two tears from her eyes. Despite all appearances, it meant more to her than to Gaius.
Gaius paced across the room twice, then suddenly stopped. “Now it’s time to eat some crow,” he muttered. “I’ve got to go out and revise my bill.”
CHAPTER 73
Gaius rewrote the bill without the retroactive clause, explaining the change by saying that Cornelia had requested it. The populace responded just as I had predicted. Because of her husband, and because of her son Tiberius, and because of her own actions, Cornelia’s reputation for dignity and intelligence was the highest of any woman’s in Rome, and rivaled any man’s. To deny the need for revenge against a man who had caused so much trouble for her son seemed perfectly in character. The populace praised her with eyes full of tears. The revised bill passed easily.
Two weeks later, Gaius had another bill, his most popular yet. It called for a discounted price on wheat for every Roman citizen. The wheat market was subject to great fluctuation and for the most part depended on foreign dealers. Stabilizing and cutting the price of grain through a government buying program was a sure winner with the People’s Assembly.
Gaius introduced his wheat bill by reading it to the Senate. He spoke from the rostra to three hundred senators seated in the comitium. As he read the bill, the group of senators grew agitated and began to talk among themselves. They did not like the idea of state-funded grain. They felt that Gaius was using the bill to make himself more popular and were infuriated.
Gaius anticipated this kind of reaction, and when he saw the senators muttering and whispering as he read, he turned away from the comitium and faced the forum to his left, reading, as it were, to the plebeians who had gathered there, not the senators. No one had ever done this before, but it was a clear demonstration of Gaius’ courage, and the people in the forum loved it just as much as the Senate hated it. Some of the senators walked out, but Gaius continued, clearly drawing a line in the sand. He was the people’s spokesman, and from that day on, whenever he called the Senate to the comitium to read a bill, he faced the forum and read to his constituency, not his detractors.
I accepted that Gaius was doing what he was meant to do. And he was doing it well. Like his brother, he had become a public hero. But what was I meant to do? This had become a much more complicated question due to my continuing friendship with Laelia. We had gone to the bath once a week since our return from Misenum. I had not conquered my self-consciousness enough to bathe in the nude. Laelia always did. Some days we would return to my house so that Laelia could use the library.
On two of these occasions we had left the library and gone to my bed to slip beneath the sheets. As I had told her in the carriage on the way back from Misenum, I enjoyed being held and physically comforted, but I really wanted nothing more. It was not something sexual for me. It was something deeper, an unanswered loneliness and a need to be touched. She was different and enjoyed masturbating while in bed with me. It was an odd form of intimacy, but I wanted her as a friend.
Several days after Cornelia had returned to her villa in Misenum, Laelia and I took our weekly trip to the bath. After a long soak, I had my bearers carry us back to my house. While we drank cups of watered wine in the library, Laelia came up close to me and whispered in my ear like a kiss, “Let’s slip off to your bedroom.”
I gave Nadia some chores to keep her and the other slaves busy, then cautiously, with Laelia’s assistance, climbed the stairs. We stripped down to just our tunics and slipped into my bed. Laelia always tried to push my limits. On this occasion, once we were beneath the sheets, she allowed her tunic to slip up above her waist and in time had coaxed mine upward also. I lay in the bed wrapped in her arms while she entwined her bare legs with mine. I liked the feel of her skin on mine, and it seemed innocent enough not to resist, but she gradually engaged her hands and I became more and more aroused. I had never allowed her hands between my legs. But as her own excitement grew, she became more aggressive, whispering in my ear, telling me how much she wanted to bring me to climax. I had avoided this in all of our previous encounters, but with my tunic up and the contact of our thighs and stomachs, I became too heated to resist and opened my legs for her. I rarely had orgasms with Aemilianus and did not crave sex the way Laelia did. She seemed to climax whenever she wanted. She massaged me with her fingers until I became sore, but she could not brin
g me to orgasm. This frustrated her, and without warning, she slid beneath the sheet to use her tongue. It was more than I felt was proper, but I was under her spell and gave in fully. I moaned and whimpered in pleasure, which only drove Laelia on, as though she were determine to melt me into a puddle.
I lost awareness of how loud I had become, and Laelia seemed to relish my ecstasy. Then from outside the room I heard a gasp. Nadia had heard the sounds and come upstairs thinking that something was wrong. She stood in the doorway. “Are you all right, my lady?” she whispered into the shadowy room. When I stiffened, Laelia came out from beneath the covers.
Nadia uttered a muted cry. “I’m sorry, my lady.” She quickly turned away and ran down the stairs.
I got out of the bed upset and told Laelia that she must go.
“It was only your housemaid, Sempronia. Why worry?”
“It’s not something I want known.”
“Are you embarrassed to be with me?”
“No, it’s not that. It’s just more than I ever imagined. And if people know, it’s only more trouble.”
“Command your slave to keep to it to herself.”
“But I won’t be able to look her in the eye.”
Laelia used the sheet to wipe her mouth, then climbed from the bed. “Why should it matter? Didn’t you like it?”
I lowered my head. “Yes.” I remembered what I had seen when we were in Misenum. I had to ask. “Have you done that before?”
“This was the first time,” she said slipping her stola over her tunic.
“And I’m the only woman you’ve known intimately?”
She did not like the question. “Would you be jealous if you weren’t?”
“I don’t know,” I said, though the answer was decidedly yes. “Let’s go downstairs. You should leave. I need to talk to Nadia.”
“Would you do it to me?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It reminds me of when Aemilianus would force me to use my mouth on him. It’s unclean.”
Cornelia- the First Woman of Rome Page 26