“Except when I do it to you?”
“Please, Laelia.”
She was already headed down the stairs. I heard her go out the front door and slam it before I got to the stairs. I just stood there and began to cry. What was I doing? I felt so confused I had no idea what I would say to Nadia. I submerged beneath another layer of guilt and said nothing.
CHAPTER 74
Gaius’ wheat bill was nearly as popular as Tiberius’ land reform bill. After three weeks of discussion, it passed unanimously. Gaius had become another Tiberius, creating a new wave of fear in the senatorial class.
Gaius made a point of being at Mars Field for the first distribution of the discounted wheat. The process began early in the morning with four long lines of plebeians stretched across the exercise field. Toward noon, after the greater part of the populace had been served and the lines were almost gone, Calpurnius Piso, Mucius Scaevola’s co-consul the year of Tiberius’ death, came to Mars Field. He was a plebeian but also a senator, and very wealthy. He had spoken out vehemently against the grain “giveaway” when Gaius had first presented it to the Senate for review. Because there was no financial restriction for those receiving the grain, Piso, clearly seeking to put Gaius on the spot, wanted his allowance of wheat.
Gaius stood a short distance away when the senator and his slave stepped up to the table where an aedile was weighing out portions of wheat for dispersal. Piso saw Gaius and glared at him. “I do not care for this fancy of yours, Gracchus. As far as I can tell you’re dividing up goods that belong to me and giving them to the riffraff of Rome. But if you’re determined to waste my money,” he said with a grin, “I might as well claim my share.”
The insult was not missed by anyone within hearing range. Gaius came up close to Piso. “If you had read the bill in its entirety, Senator, you would have noticed that I added new public revenues to help offset the expenditure. There will be no draw on the treasury to provide for those who need help putting food on their table.” He emphasized the last phrase.
“So you may think, Tribune. But when did Rome indulge their citizens with luxuries such as this?” He let a handful of the wheat pass through his fingers and fall on the ground.
“You might do well to spend a few nights in Subura, Senator, and visit a family that isn’t as fortunate as yours. There will be no pheasant eggs or imported oysters on the dinner table. Wheat might be all they have.”
“Only because they are too lazy to put in a day’s work or take responsibility for the infants that spring from their women’s loins. This godless giveaway can only inspire a growing class of never-do-wells.”
Gaius noted the angry looks of the others who were standing in line. “Be careful, Senator, whom you disparage. While you may worry that I’m undermining initiative, I would argue that assuring our citizens are well fed makes good stock for legionnaires.”
When several others close by voiced approval for Gaius’ response, Piso ordered his slave to take the bag of wheat, then abruptly turned and walked away to a shower of crude suggestions for what he should do with his allowance.
CHAPTER 75
While my brother fed the poor, I wrestled with sexual demons. Not only had Nadia seen something I hoped to keep secret, but my friendship with Laelia had also come into doubt. She had seduced me—for better or worse. Then she had lied to me, and I had not immediately confronted her. She had known other women, at least one, Elephantis. She was not the novice she claimed to be, and the whole thing left me feeling used.
For the Roman male, sex with a man was not considered a strike against his masculinity as long as he maintained the position of dominance. Only the dominated was considered to be weak and effeminate. Domination defined virility and was fulfilled through the marriage contract of manus.
Little was ever said about a woman with another woman, though I had heard of men using it as a reason to divorce their wives. Intimacy between women surely had parallels to that of men with men. There was often a dominator and a dominated. Laelia seemed to seek that dominant role with me. Despite my need to be touched and held, I had no desire to be dominated. Yes, Laelia was a remarkably strong and alluring personality. She was brilliant and exciting and as beautiful as any woman I knew. But I had enough of dominance with Aemilianus. If killing him had taught me anything about myself, I knew I wanted something more than to be manipulated by the people close to me. With Laelia I felt that could only be achieved through friendship, not a clandestine physical relationship that she controlled. If Laelia had not already cast me aside, I knew I would have to confront her on this if I wanted to know her at all.
When Laelia did not come by on our usual day to go to the bath, I decided to go alone, something that was very difficult for me. Without a friend to assist me, I brought Nadia. As she helped me limp across the steamy pool area, I noticed that Laelia was in the middle pool—not hot, not cold. I continued on to the hot pool, which provided so much relief for me. I struggled to a sitting position on the side of the pool, then slid in. I did what I always did at the bath. I leaned back against the side, and with legs extended, let my body float in the water. I closed my eyes and tried to forget that Laelia was forty feet away in the other pool.
Every now and then, however, I could not resist a glance at Laelia. On one occasion she looked up. Neither of us acknowledged the other except by the steadying of our eyes. She climbed from the pool and sauntered across to where I was. Many of the women watched her because of her complete nudity. Some of the women stripped down to breast wraps and a loincloth, but most wore a light gown like I did, which the water made all but transparent. Laelia sat down on the edge of the pool with her legs in the water. Even as a regular at the bath, she knew she created a sensation. Everyone knew that she was a consul’s daughter-in-law, and that she was as brilliant as she was lovely in the nude. I am sure she made everyone uncomfortable with her lack of modesty, but I would bet they all wished they were confident enough to do the same.
Although Laelia always attracted attention in the bathing area, no one dared to stare at us. But what could be more interesting than the most daring woman in Rome sitting beside the wallflower with the twisted ankle?
“I was hoping to see you today,” I said, deciding that part of my plan would be taking the initiative in the conversation.
“Yes, I guess I didn’t come by your house today.”
“I wondered about that.” I looked out across the pool, then to her. “I thought there might be something we needed to talk about.”
She slid into the water next to me. “You mean since I last saw you.” She extended her legs the way I had so that our heads were side by side resting against the pool apron.
“I don’t want to lose you as a friend, Laelia, and I’m worried about that.”
“Do you think that I might have shown you something nice?”
“Well—yes.” This was not where I wanted to go.
She smiled contentedly and closed her eyes.
I had no intention of confronting her at the pool. I just wanted her to know I needed to talk to her, perhaps later, in private. I closed my eyes and wondered how many of the women might be furtively watching us.
Then I felt Laelia’s hand on my hip beneath the water. My eyes popped open. Her eyes were closed. I did not want to react too suddenly and cause a scene. I took a breath and tried to relax, but her hand slid from my hip to a full caress of the right cheek of my rear. When her forefinger edged down lower, I stood up and lifted myself onto the side of the pool. Laelia did not even open her eyes. I was furious. I had let it happen. I had allowed myself to be manipulated when I had wanted to talk to her specifically about that issue.
Laelia spoke to me without opening her eyes. “We’ll find a time to talk.” She said it like nothing had happened.
“Yes, come by one day,” I said, biting onto my anger.
Then, as the center of attention for about twenty women, I struggled to my feet, and Nadia helped me cross the bath area
to my dry clothes.
CHAPTER 76
Gaius was proving to be an even more dynamic politician than Tiberius. Tiberius went at it without a clear understanding of his impact or the resistance he would face. Gaius went at it entirely prepared and fueled by the passion of a barely submerged anger. By the time the wheat bill had passed, he had two more bills lined up to push through the People’s Assembly. He announced them both on the same day by reading them to the Senate from the comitium rostra while facing the crowd assembled in the forum.
The first included three provisions regarding the military: 1) All soldier’s clothing and equipment would be provided by the state, instead of being supplied by the soldier himself, 2) the lower age limit for service, seventeen, was to be strictly enforced, and 3) the tribunes for the first four legions were to be elected by the People’s Assembly instead of chosen by the current consuls—this was an attempt to minimize the abuse of enlisted men by officers known for their excessive severity. All three provisions were positives for the common man. Calpurnius Piso criticized the added cost to the state. Another senator blasted Gaius for seeking to weaken discipline in the army, and the growing number of senators worried about Gaius’ seeming thirst for power grumbled that it was a needless bill designed to increase his popularity.
The second bill was really an addendum to the wheat bill. It called for building long-term grain storage in the region around Rome as a way to ensure that the government could weather fluctuations in the price of wheat while providing grain to citizens at essentially half the market price. Again the resistance came from Piso. “Who will pay for these buildings?” he shouted at Gaius.
Gaius’ answer was simple and straightforward. “The savings the government will make by buying in quantity will more than make up for any losses incurred by building storage facilities.”
Both laws were passed unanimously by the People’s Assembly, and despite senatorial resistance, caused little political stir other than increased fear of Gaius’ political acumen and his growing ability to control the direction of the state through the People’s Assembly.
Following the vote, Gaius had a modest celebratory dinner at his home. I was invited as were his friend from the army Laetorius Antonius and his wife, Fulvia, and his friend since childhood Pomponius Atticus and his wife, Marcia. We ate in the triclinium. Two oil lamps provided light. The women sat in chairs, and the men lounged on the couches. Licinia’s Sicilian cook Catalda filled the table with a small feast—roast lamb, blood pudding, boiled cabbage, three types of cheese, and two loaves of bread—one rye, one whole wheat. Gaius opened a cask of Falerian red for the occasion; an amphora sat at each end of the table. The men drank with vigor; Marcia, Fulvia, and Licinia sipped from a single cup all night. I had two.
Pomponius, a short man with cropped blonde hair, raised his glass to Gaius. “To the success of your next bill!”
Licinia half-heartedly lifted her cup. Laetorius, known for his sense of humor, laughed as he raised his. “What else do you have in mind, Gaius? I know you won’t rest with the two passed today.”
Pomponius joined in the laughter. Gaius took a sip from his cup and then became serious. “I have four more bills planned for the remainder of my term. I’m still working out the order I will present them, but if I can trust that none of what I say goes beyond this room, I would be interested in your response.”
“I think you can trust us,” said Laetorius with a chuckle before taking a sip from his cup. The others agreed, but I noticed Licinia lower her eyes. She accepted what her husband did, but as she had confessed to me, Gaius’ involvement in politics worried her.
“I want to build some new roads. Rome is verging on becoming all of Italy. Easier travel will benefit everyone.”
“And bring more of our constituents to the elections,” added Pomponius.
“As well as enabling the building of my granaries and the distribution of wheat,” said Gaius. “Another bill will address the method of granting provinces to the consuls.”
“How’s that?” I asked.
“Right now,” said Gaius, “the consuls are chosen, and then they pick their province of operation based on the potential for plunder and added wealth. I will propose that the provinces be determined by the Senate prior to the election so that each consul is elected for a specific province and duty. This puts the business of Rome ahead of the personal desires of the consuls.”
“I like it,” piped in Laetorius.
“But I doubt ambitious senators will,” said Pomponius.
“Of course they won’t, but it will mean they’ll be doing the work of the state rather than simply going out and enriching themselves.”
Pomponius’ wife, a woman I had never met before, followed. “What else, Gaius?”
“I want to readdress land reform. It’s stagnated since Aemilianus put adjudication in the hands of the Senate.”
Just hearing my husband’s name, though dead five years now, made me cringe. And for the ten thousandth time I wondered about the unanswered mystery—who had left the note beneath my bed?
“I will propose six new colonies to avoid the legal clutter of redistribution that has bogged down the commission.”
Everyone agreed this was a better way to go and toasted the idea.
“Lastly, and most importantly,” Gaius grinned, “I want to address an issue my brother hoped to confront but never got the chance to. I want to change the makeup of the courts. Right now the courts are adjudicated by senators before a jury of senators. I want half the jurors to be equestrians.” The equestrians were the class just below the senatorial class, wealthy businessmen who did not pursue political careers.
All of us knew this was a completely sensible step in the direction Gaius was taking Rome, but it was also a direct abridgement of the Senate’s powers. It would get a lot of resistance. Pomponius nodded at Gaius. “Brilliant, my friend. Daring, but brilliant.”
Laetorius lifted his cup to Gaius. “And it would bring the equestrians into our camp.”
“No mention of this. Any of it. To anyone.” Gaius made eye contact with everyone around the table but Licinia, whose head was bowed. “It will be one step at a time. Pomponius and Laetorius, you’ll both be needed. Expect a busy summer and fall.”
After the meal Licinia led the other women out to the peristyle. It was lit with torches on a pleasant summer evening. A light breeze blew in from the south. We all wore our pallas wrapped around our shoulders with our heads left bare. I propelled my wheelchair with my hands as Licinia, Fulvia, and Marcia, the only woman wearing face paint, strolled through the moon shadows cast by the colonnade. Without anyone saying a word, we all knew that Licinia was struggling.
Fulvia was the first to comment. She was a large, forceful woman with long blonde hair, plaited and wound around her head, held in place by a blue filet to match her eyes. “It’s no time to be weak, Licinia. Your husband has become the most important man in Rome. We all know it. The gods have blessed him—and you. You have no choice. As a good Roman wife you must bear the responsibility of power with him.”
It was what I thought also. But Gaius was my brother and I had already given in to the idea of our family’s fate.
We heard the men raise their voices then burst into laughter. Tears began to run down Licinia’s cheeks. “I know that,” she blubbered, “but I keep imagining him dead and me alone with the two children.”
Marcia came from a family with a long legacy of losses on the battlefield. “Widows with children are a tradition in Rome. My mother, your mother.”
“My sister-in-law,” muttered Licinia. She looked at me, then pulled her palla up over her head, and walked back to the house.
CHAPTER 77
I wrote Cornelia once a week describing Gaius’ work. Cornelia commented little in her return letters. She had retreated from her initial position, but she was as frightened as Licinia for her son’s life. I imagined that she was holding her breath waiting for the end of Gaius’ year as
tribune. Maybe I was too.
A week after the dinner at Gaius’ house, I saw Laelia at the bath. She asked me if she could come to my house and use the library.
“Certainly. Perhaps we could find some time to talk.”
Laelia arrived in her litter not long after I had returned from the bath. Nadia met her at the door. Laelia held a wax pad and a cloth sack and swept past my housemaid, headed straight to the atrium where I was sitting in my wheelchair. Nadia followed behind watching Laelia closely.
Laelia leaned over to embrace me and whispered in my ear. “Could we go into the library for some privacy? I have some exciting news that I don’t want getting out quite yet.”
“Nadia,” I said, “would you get us something to drink? We’ll be in the library.”
Laelia pushed me into the library, peeked out into the atrium to make sure no other slaves were nearby, then faced me. “I’m going to file for a divorce from Quintus.”
“How can you do that? Manus doesn’t allow it.” Like all of the upper-class women in Rome, her marriage had been arranged through manus, which gave the wife little or no rights, and expressly no avenue for seeking a divorce.
“That’s why I wanted to use your library. It has several scrolls on Roman law. I’m looking for any angle I can get—and I can’t exactly ask my father-in-law for help. Once I’ve prepared a case, I will act as my own advocate and take my husband to court.” She came close to me and lowered her voice. “It’s a safer bet than murder.”
I had no answer for that, and she turned away from me to thumb through the shelves of scrolls. She looked over her shoulder. “I don’t even know what I’m looking for. But there’s got to be something.”
Cornelia- the First Woman of Rome Page 27