“What did she say?”
“It was clear she wasn’t pleased. She might have felt it was an insult to Tiberius, but she didn’t say that. She told me it was my decision and that she understood.”
Cornelia must have felt she was giving in, but I saw it as fundamental growth in a woman who had devoted her life to understanding the complexities of life, the world, and her children. “Nothing more?”
Claudia stood back and looked at me with a bone pin pinched between her lips. “Turn around,” she said through clenched teeth. “Oh my, it looks great on you, Sempronia. It really does.”
“And it’s so light and comfortable.” I stroked the front of the dress smoothing it out on my torso. “But what else did she say?”
Claudia removed the pin from her mouth to smile. “She said she would miss me and the children, but that perhaps a father would be good for Tiberius.”
“No criticism at all?”
She shook her head. “She told me you had mentioned it to her. Giving her some time to think about it before I confronted her surely had a lot to do with her response. Thank you.” She came up close and embraced me.
“Well, thank you, Claudia, for this lovely dress,” I said as she released me. “Let’s find a mirror. I want to see how it looks on me.”
“You’ll have plenty of time for admiring yourself later. Slip it off. I have to sew those bands on. Then you can show it to Cornelia. She knows how much time I’ve put into it and will be just as anxious to see it on you as you are.”
When I left Misenum, Claudia and her two children traveled with me. They would move into her father’s vacant villa. Cornelia would certainly miss Claudia’s company and tutoring the two children, but for Claudia the prospect of finding a new husband was considerably greater in Rome. During the trip back Claudia continually praised Cornelia for her open mind and her care and support when things had been so awful after Tiberius’ murder. All I could say was that my feelings were the same.
CHAPTER 80
Back in Rome, Gaius was preparing what would be his last two bills of his term as tribune. The first of these was a revision—or, as one might say, a complete rewriting—of Tiberius’ land reform bill. It included two key provisions. One gave the commission full authority to administer the redistribution of land in allied regions, essentially reversing Aemilianus’ intervention five years earlier. The other changed the focus of land reform from the distribution of individual plots to the creation of colonies. This was considerably less controversial than Tiberius’ plan and served much the same purpose—providing farmland to landless Roman citizens.
The Senate’s response was predictable. There were no real objections. They even welcomed relief from the duty of resolving the suits filed against the land commission. But they were afraid of Gaius and felt that every accomplishment, every bill he passed, only made him that much stronger. A core of ultra-aristocratic senators constantly grumbled about the danger of a second ambitious Gracchi trying to strip power from the Senate. The bill passed unanimously in the People’s Assembly.
The second bill was Gaius’ most ambitious and most unexpected. It called for integrating members of the equestrian class, Rome’s upper middle class, into the Roman courts. As Gaius had said at the dinner party following the passage of his granary bill, the courts were entirely controlled and populated by senators—judge and jury. Meaning senators were often called on to pass judgment on other senators, their friends and peers—with predictable results. Gaius sought to make the reservoir of possible jurors a mix of the senatorial class and the equestrian class. This accomplished two things: A senator accused of a crime would not be judged by an entirely incestuous jury, and it added a measure of power to the equestrian class, which would potentially bring a new faction of Romans into Gaius’ camp.
One of Tiberius’ mistakes during his tribuneship was disregarding the opinions of the other tribunes. When Tiberius attempted to run for a second tribuneship, eight of the ten tribunes were against him. This played no small part in his downfall. Well aware of this shortsightedness, Gaius deliberately engaged the other tribunes in all of his work. In some cases their names were put on bills that he wrote. They would argue for the bill and take the lead role in the three weeks of contiones. With jury reform, however, Gaius did all the work himself.
He introduced the law in the traditional manner by reading it to the Senate from the rostra above the comitium. As had become his custom, however, he faced the forum as he read, not the senators. The Senate received the bill with greater indignity than they had for either his grain bill or his bill to reform the selection of consular provinces.
Aemilius Lepidus, a consul two years earlier, stood up in the middle of Gaius’ speech and shouted, “What? First the tribune wants to run Rome through the People’s Assembly; now he plans to place the equites in a position to judge the senators. This is topsy-turvy government at its worst! The man is set on destroying a system that has worked smoothly for four hundred years.”
Gaius responded with his usual fire. “No, Senator, it has worked for four hundred years, but hardly smoothly or equitably. What we’ve seen recently demonstrates that the Senate cannot fairly judge its own kind. Aurelius Cotta, Gaius Livius Salinator, and Manius Aquilius, all known to have taken bribes in foreign provinces, were acquitted by senatorial juries despite reports sent from their provinces that verified their abysmal conduct. It’s time for a change.”
No one had forgotten these men. The senators knew Gaius’ comments were true and had no way to respond to his accusations. Whether right or not, they still wanted nothing to do with equestrian juries. They advised him not to put the bill up for a vote.
Of course, Gaius ignored the Senate’s advice. He was trying to do much more than bring social diversity to the court system—he was completely overhauling it. His bill identified the magistrate who would preside over each court, included definitions for each criminal offense, named who was liable in these offenses, defined the penalties and punishments, established a method for a citizen to bring about a charge against a magistrate or another citizen, arranged for representatives to assist the plaintiff, and detailed the qualifications for a jury member and how they would be selected from a pool of four hundred and fifty potential jurors—of which three hundred were equites and one hundred and fifty were senators. Gaius also established guidelines for protecting witnesses, provisions if the man charged died before the trial, and an oath that all judges and jurors had to take prior to a trial.
All of this went back to Gaius’ first major public speech when he defended his leaving Sardinia by attacking the excesses of Roman magistrates in foreign provinces. Although an increasingly frightening man to those who milked military expansion for their own enrichment, Gaius was making a serious attempt at bringing equitable justice to all. It was a noble and absolutely necessary part of the evolution of the Roman state. My brother had become more than I could imagine. If Tiberius were watching from the invisible heavens, he would have been impressed with his younger brother. I wrote as much in a letter to Cornelia.
CHAPTER 81
At a time when most of Gaius’ bills passed unanimously or nearly so, the bill to reform the judicial system passed by the narrowest of margins. Thirty-two tribes had voted before it had the necessary majority of eighteen. It was clearly a bill written to gain support from the equestrians, and offered little to the plebeians except, hopefully, less corruption in the courts. Two days later Gaius invited his closest advisors to his home to celebrate the passage of the law and the conclusion of his term as tribune. I attended. Fulvius Flaccus and Papirius Carbo came with their wives, as did Laetorius and Pomponius. A supportive senator, Gaius Fannius, someone I had never met, came alone. Licinia was the hostess and Catalda put out a magnificent spread. A plump baked tuna stuffed with bread pudding, sitting in a bed of steamed oysters, occupied the center of the table. A bowl of mulberries sat at one end of the table, a cutting board with bread and cheese at the other. W
ine from Apulia added to the festive evening.
Licinia, who had maintained her poise throughout Gaius’ tribuneship, helped me with my wheelchair when I arrived. She seemed relieved.
“I thought this day would never come,” she whispered as she pushed my chair toward the triclinium. “I have no idea what Gaius plans to do now that his term is over, but nothing could be as stressful as the position of tribune.”
“He hasn’t said a word to me. I imagine he’ll remain on the land commission and somehow enter into the planning of the colonies he’s proposed.”
Licinia nodded. “I hope that’s all. Obstacles still exist for the commission, but they are not direct confrontations with the Senate, and he won’t be speaking so often in public. It’s his popularity that creates all the jealousy and acrimony.”
“I don’t know this man Fannius, Licinia. Do you know anything about him?”
“According to Gaius he’s running for consul in the next election.”
I made a face. “Really? Prepare yourself. We might have more politics than celebrating tonight.”
Licinia groaned as she pushed me into the triclinium where everyone else was already seated.
The dinner conversation did not get deep into politics. There were several toasts to the passage of the bill and Gaius’ year as tribune. Then Gaius introduced Fannius to Licinia and the other women, describing him as a wealthy equestrian who had been maneuvering for the last three years for an opportunity to run for a consulship. The elections were a month away and Fannius had put his name into the mix.
Gaius called for his sons to make an appearance at the table. They were tall and smart, now nine and eight years old. When Marcia, Fulvius’ wife, asked young Gaius if he wanted to be in politics, he frowned. “My life is meant for war.” Licinia then shooed them out of the room with Catalda.
After the meal the men moved into the library with two amphorae of wine. The women chatted in the atrium. This had been Cornelia’s home. She had never really let go of her sense of privilege and had decorated the villa in an understated sumptuousness. The atrium was large for a residence within the city limits and contained many important pieces of Greek art. It was a fall evening, so juniper burned in four braziers and torches on bronze stanchions provided light.
Catalda and another slave brought in a tray of sweets for the six women—Licinia, Pomponius’ wife Marcia, Laetorius’ wife Fulvia, Fulvius’ wife Lavinia, Carbo’s wife Messalina, and myself. Messalina had not seen my chair before and that was where our conversation started. Fulvia’s perfume was next, then everyone’s children. I eased to the edge of the group and eavesdropped on the men whose voices had grown serious and had attracted my attention.
They had deliberately steered away from politics at the table, but that was why they were really there—to plot a strategy for the upcoming election. Fannius came because of Gaius’ influence on the plebeian vote, and of late, the equestrian vote. The People’s Assembly, where Gaius had his largest constituency, was restricted to plebeians. The Century Assembly, however, which voted for the consuls, was entirely made up of soldiers and was a mix of all classes, meaning Gaius had influence there also. Fannius felt Gaius’ backing was essential to winning a consulship.
“So, Gaius,” I heard him say, “I have made my needs very clear. But I don’t know what you want. What ambitions drive you now that your tribuneship is over? How could I return your favor should I get elected?”
Fulvius Flaccus, two years removed from his consulship, had just celebrated a triumph for defending the city of Massilia from the Salluvii, a mix of Gaulish and Ligurian barbarians from between the Rhone River and the Alps. Fulvius, who hoped to ride that success to a tribuneship, something rare for an ex-consul, answered for Gaius. “He wants a second tribuneship.”
My heart rose in my throat. I immediately thought of Cornelia and Licinia.
“But he hasn’t campaigned,” said Fannius, clearly as surprised as I was.
“And I’m not going to,” said Gaius. “It would create an undercurrent in some parts of Rome that I would like to avoid.”
Fulvius filled in the details. “Carbo’s bill to allow consecutive terms for a tribune failed six years ago, but there is a way for a tribune to serve consecutive terms that was never mentioned when Tiberius tried. The man can’t openly run for the position, but if his name is listed as a write-in on a majority of the ballots on the first roll call, and at the same time less than ten of the registered candidates receive the necessary eighteen tribal votes, the write-in becomes a legal candidate in the second round of voting. I don’t believe it’s ever happened, but it’s an option, and Gaius wants to give it a try. But he will need help to make it work.”
Fannius looked at Gaius. “Why two terms?”
“I’ve put a lot of bills into law this year. I want to remain on the tribunate so those bills are implemented properly. Another year would be invaluable. Especially if Fulvius is also elected to the tribunate. In return for my support of you, I want you to talk to any tribal elders you have sway with. Ask them to write in my name on their ballots.”
Fannius had not expected this, but he did want a consulship. He was in a tough battle with Lucius Opimius who had just put down the rebellion in Fregellae and was a strong proponent of the aristocracy. Fannius, on the other hand, was seen as a moderate. “What new issues would you promote should you be elected, Gaius?”
Carbo stepped into the conversation. Clearly Gaius and his associates had already discussed a strategy. “We’re interested in returning to Fulvius’ effort to unify Italy.”
“What do you mean?”
“Full citizenship and voting rights for all Latins and partial citizenship with voting rights for all Italians,” said Fulvius.
“With the hope of eventually giving full citizenship to them both,” said Gaius.
“It’s the future of Rome,” added Carbo. “If it doesn’t happen now, it will happen later.”
This was exactly what I had said to Cornelia, but I had not known how far Gaius had advanced on this agenda. It was not surprising, and yet his desire for a second tribuneship was.
Fannius was not overly excited by the idea. “What else might you do?”
Gaius nodded to Pomponius. “The collection of taxes and other fees in Roman provinces abroad brings in large sums of money. Right now the province governors sell the rights to collect taxes as a way to make money on the side or bribe local officials. It’s an entirely corrupt system. We’ve drafted a bill that would require open bidding for all tax farming in Roman provinces.”
“The bidding would take place here in Rome under the supervision of the tribunate,” added Gaius. “Senators would not be allowed to place bids, so the only class wealthy enough to take part would be equestrians.”
Fannius nodded slowly. This measure would appeal to his strongest constituency. “So not only would your bill curb corruption, but it would also be another incentive for the equestrians to vote with your constituents.”
“That’s one way of looking at it,” said Gaius.
I did not have a good angle into the room, but I could see Fannius stalking back and forth in the library, pondering the offer. He stopped somewhere in the library where I could not see him. His voice was loud with drink. “What happens if you give me your support and you don’t get the tribuneship?”
“As long as you do your part and talk to the tribal elders, we will accept the loss without a word.”
“And what exactly will you do for me?” asked Fannius.
“I will be complimentary of you whenever I’m out lobbying for myself,” said Fulvius, “as will my clients.”
“I’ll stay out of the discussion completely until the day of the election,” said Gaius. “But on that day, I will come to Mars Field with you and make it obvious that you are my choice for the consulate. Just my presence beside you will be enough to serve your purpose.”
“Very good,” I heard Fannius say. “Let’s do it.”
All the men I could see raised their cups. “To our next consul,” announced Fulvius.
I did not say anything to Licinia or Cornelia. I understood what Gaius was doing. It made sense at one level, but it seemed awfully risky at another. I admired Gaius for his courage and his vision. His ambition, however, was growing. The same thing had happened to Tiberius. The momentum of the work and the thrill of success had taken over. But trying for a second tribuneship had gotten Tiberius murdered. My feelings at this point were mixed to say the least. Gaius was doing great work that did need follow-up, but I hoped his attempt for a second tribuneship would fail. If ten tribunes received a majority on the first ballot, it would all be over. If Fulvius were elected to the tribunate, he could carry the mantle instead of Gaius.
CHAPTER 82
Despite our last confrontation, Laelia continued to come to the house once a week to use the library. I did what I could to help with her research, but I no longer went to the bathhouse or to my bedroom with her. Although she was always kind to me, embraced me and kissed me like a sister, we maintained an uneasy non-sexual friendship without ever discussing it again.
Laelia loved politics and identified with the populares. She followed Gaius’ work and considered my brother a genius and an inspiration. He came by the house one day to use the library just as Laelia was leaving.
Gaius had the kind of face that demanded immediacy and attention. His features were large and expressive. His eyes blazed. He was handsome through his intensity and his powerful physical presence. He was a soldier called to politics.
He came into the house with no announcement and entered the library where Laelia was assembling her notes to leave. She was as room-filling as Gaius, and always dressed to display her beauty. She wore a peach-colored, one-shouldered gown of coan silk that hugged her body like a second layer of skin and a matching transparent palla that wrapped around her torso and shoulders, barely veiling the revealing nature of her gown.
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