When I rolled into the library, they were staring at each other. “Laelia,” I said, “this is my brother Gaius. I don’t believe you’ve met.”
Laelia pretended modesty. “I follow politics closely,” she said, flashing her loveliest smile, “and your work with the tribunate has been admirable. Truly. I am honored.” She bowed to him.
“I knew your father,” said Gaius. Laelia’s father, Gaius Laelius, Aemilianus’ friend, had died a year earlier.
“She’s our cousin once removed,” I said. “She’s married to Quintus Scaevola.”
“What are your researching?”
Laelia gave him a wry grin. “Divorce.”
“I don’t understand,” said Gaius.
“And you don’t want to,” I said. “Laelia was just leaving.”
Laelia laughed. “She’s probably right, Gaius. I want to test manus in the courts.”
“For what reason?”
“I think you have to be a woman to understand.”
When this left Gaius speechless, Laelia bid us goodbye. She walked out with her wax pad and stylus just as Nadia came from the back of the house with some posca for Gaius. I noted how both Gaius and Nadia watched Laelia walk across the atrium to leave. Her slave, who was waiting outside the door, stepped into the entry to place a wool mantle on her shoulders.
Gaius stayed in the library all afternoon. He seemed to be writing something so I left him alone. Philocrates had gone to the back of the villa. I saw him beside the slaves’ quarters talking to a few of my slaves’ children. One was his son Aesop, now twelve years old.
Philocrates had been one of these slave children when Gaius was a child. The two boys played together for several years before Philocrates became Gaius’ slave. He had accompanied Gaius on all of his military campaigns and traveled with the construction crew when Gaius had been building roads. They were surprisingly close, but Philocrates was a slave and always deferred when anyone else was present.
A short time later I went to the peristyle to cut some flowers. Philocrates was kneeling beside one of the flower beds. He looked up at me as I approached, then stood with a handful of dandelions in his fist. “I hope you don’t mind me picking at your garden, my lady. I was waiting for Gaius.”
“Of course not, there are never enough hands to keep up with the weeds. Do as you please.” Then I noticed it. His tunic, clearly an old one, was embroidered at the hem and neckline with red, green, and yellow thread. When he knelt down again, I saw that the embroidery had a short break in it on the back hem—as though it had been torn out. I immediately thought of Aemilianus’ visitation: Follow the thread.
“How long have you had that tunic, Philocrates?” I asked. “It looks like you need a new one.”
“Yes, perhaps, my lady,” he said turning to face me. “Nadia made it for me when we were closer.”
“That’s quite a while ago. Maybe you should get her to make you another.”
“I have others. This is just the one I picked out for today.”
“There’s a break in the embroidery. When did that happen?”
He had to twist around to see the gap. “Years ago, I suppose. I never noticed it before.”
“Too bad, it’s a nice touch,” I said, then walked away thinking about the murder. Was there any chance Philocrates came to the house that night? Could Gaius have sent him? The questions I had long buried began to bubble up in me. I thought about the note I had found. Philocrates knew Greek. Could he be the answer to the mystery? He was so loyal to Gaius he could easily have strangled Ameilianus on an order or on his own, but it seemed impossible that he would pressure me for money for any reason. I could ask him outright, but if it were not him, I would be giving myself away. Too much time had passed. The thread proved nothing. I decided to let it go.
CHAPTER 83
Gaius accompanied Fannius to Mars Field when the Century Assembly gathered to elect the consuls, praetors, and other high-ranking military officials. The sight of Gaius and Fannius crossing the exercise field west of Rome created a huge sensation. The one hundred and ninety-three centuries, that voted as groups in the same way the tribes did, quickly assembled and reviewed their lists of nominees. The vote was a close one, but Fannius was chosen to share the consulship with the patrician Gnaeus Domitius Ahenobarbus. Lucius Opimius was a close third. No one doubted that Gaius’ appearance with Fannius was the difference.
The following day the plebeians assembled in their tribes at the top of the Capitoline Hill to elect the tribunes. Gaius was not listed as a candidate. He stood with the Cornelia tribe, and as part of the tribal discussion, expressed his opinion on the nominees and made a statement on behalf of Fulvius Flaccus.
The Papiria tribe was given the honor of naming the first ten nominees. To be selected, a candidate had to be named on at least eighteen ballots, meaning a majority of the thirty-five tribes. If more than ten achieved such a majority, the ten men named on the most ballots were given positions on the tribunate.
After all thirty-five tribes had voted, a tribune from the current year, a tall, fair-haired man by the name of Servilius Rullus, stood up to the podium on the speakers’ platform to announce the results. “Only eight men were named on a majority of the ballots,” he shouted to the Assembly. “All tribes should reconvene to revise their ballot for a second vote.”
This caused some mumbling among the tribes and some outbursts of frustration. No one wanted to go through the process for a second time.
Rullus continued. “There were several names written on the ballots that were not on the register. One, in particular, Gaius Sempronius Gracchus,” the entire place went quiet, “was on twenty ballots. Because of this he should be considered one of the eligible candidates.” The Assembly roared with approval, and surely any of the senators there to watch were stunned. They had universally believed that Gaius could not possibly receive a second year on the tribunate.
Rullus conducted the second ballot. The Voturia tribe was selected to vote first. When the results were tallied, Gaius was on every ballot and nine other men, including Fulvius Flaccus, appeared on a majority of them. The vote was over. Gaius had achieved his second consecutive term as a tribune, something never before achieved. The reaction of the Assembly was so loud it could be heard all over Rome. Even those who were not there might have guessed what it meant.
Also named to the tribunate was a Lucius Drusus. Much like Marcus Octavius, the tribune who repeatedly vetoed Tiberius’ land reform bill, Drusus had been backed heavily by the optimates as an agent to undo several of Gaius’ measures from the previous year. Both Gaius and Fulvius understood this as soon as the results were announced.
CHAPTER 84
I was at Gaius’ home when he came back from the Assembly with Fulvius, Laetorius, and Pomponius, all trailed by loyal Philocrates. Licinia and I were in the garden. I sat in my wheelchair. She stood. We had heard the uproar and knew it must have been related to the election. As far as Licinia knew, the biggest issue was Fulvius getting a position on the tribunate. We came out of the garden, her pushing me, and met the men as they filled up the atrium with their excited talk. Licinia understood what had happened even before Gaius told her. She ran out of the atrium in tears. Only I saw her go.
I listened to the men long enough to learn what had happened, including the election of Lucius Drusus, then rolled off to find Licinia. I found her hiding in the shadows in the far corner of the garden.
When she heard me coming, she faced me, wiping tears from her eyes. “I can’t do another year of this.”
I knew fear, and I knew crying alone.
“I know he’s your brother, but—but it’s just too much.” She slammed it at me angrily.
“I’m frightened also, Licinia. For Cornelia, it will be even worse. But I have gradually learned to accept what Gaius does. I’m beginning to believe he can’t help himself. It’s bigger than he is. It’s our family’s fate. That’s the only way I can live with it. And I don’t see how any
of us, my mother included, have any other choice. Go live in Misenum for the year. Take the children. Cornelia wouldn’t mind. You are best off leaving him be.”
Gaius came out to the garden. The other men were talking loudly in the atrium. Gaius saw Licinia and joined us in the shadows. He watched Licinia dry her cheeks with her palla. “I guess you’re the only one not celebrating.”
She hung her head. Gaius came up close to her. He touched her cheek to get her to look at him. “I’ve got to do this. You know that.” He glanced at me with the message I already understood.
“No, Gaius. You might have to do this. But I can’t. I see your dead body on the forum floor. I see it every night in my dreams. You’re trying to defeat a force that always wins.” She was crying again.
Gaius hung his head. He knew that the thing that frightened her empowered him. Like his brother, he was a thoughtful man, but he was considerably more intense and often given to overreaction. But not on this day. He embraced Licinia because he really did love her and his children. He had loved her since the first time he had seen her and that feeling had never left him.
He whispered something into Licinia’s ear. I could not hear him. He held her a long time. Knowing this was their moment, I rolled myself back to the atrium.
Fulvius greeted me when I reached the other men. “Sempronia, I see you’re gotten quite good with that device.” A huge, powerfully built man, he invariably seemed more eager to wrestle and fight than wrangle with government policy. He grinned at me. “I know a good many soldiers who could use a chair like that.”
He teased people as a way of communicating. I never felt his comments to be anything but playful. “How much trouble could this man Drusus cause?” I asked the group of men.
Pomponius, a man I had known since Gaius’ childhood, shook his head. “At lot. While we were thinking we might surprise them, they slipped in their own little trick.”
Laetorius was equally upset. “I don’t like the man, but maybe we can work with him. Maybe even change his mind. At least if he crosses us with a veto we’ll be expecting it this time.”
This was bad news. I rolled away from the men thinking Gaius’ second year as a tribune was sure to be harder than the first.
CHAPTER 85
I sent a letter to Cornelia with the latest news. I got a reply two weeks later. She had decided to come back to Rome for the duration of Gaius’ second tribuneship, which would not begin for two more months. She wanted to stay at my home and act as an advisor to Gaius. I was not certain how good an idea this was, but I wrote back saying she was welcome whenever she arrived.
Soon after I received Cornelia’s letter, Licinia added to the drama by announcing that she was pregnant. Gaius was, of course, excited, but Licinia only pretended to be. Her fears were obvious: What was another child if she lost her husband? Licinia, once such a radiant young woman, had become a different person. Gaius’ involvement in politics hung over her like a dark cloud. She said nothing, kept her complaints to herself, and soldiered on like any good Roman wife should, but she was not the same.
While all these family tensions were coming to a boil, Laelia was on a mission of her own, perhaps in some ways even more important than the planning of Roman colonies or the voting rights of the Italians. She wanted to make a breakthrough for the rights of women. Despite what she owed to her father-in-law, who had made a special effort to introduce her to Roman law, she had grown to hate the man’s son. She registered a petition of divorce with the court and signed it with her husband’s name, Quintus Scaevola. She would act as her own advocate and was likely to create a considerable sensation even if she were denied.
Laelia told me the date of her appearance in court. I decided to go to the forum to watch. I had my bearers carry my litter to the edge of the forum with Tarus accompanying us. We got close enough to see and partly hear the proceedings. Despite the difficulties I had experienced knowing Laelia, I was terribly worried about how she would be received by the all-male court.
Laelia arrived at the forum carrying a parasol and looking beautiful, if not entirely prepossessing, in a bright white linen toga over a white linen tunic worn off her left shoulder. She left her wavy black hair free, except for a red ribbon holding it all together behind her head in a loose ponytail. She stopped by my litter and thanked me for coming, then made her way across the forum to the Basilica Aemilia where the day’s trials would take place. Manius Manilius, a friend of my husband’s, was there to preside. He was not a progressive in the Scipionic sense, but he was also not an ultra-conservative. I felt he might actually give Laelia an opportunity to make her point.
I heard the herald call out, “Quintus Mucius Scaevola, come forward to present your case.”
Manilius was sitting at a table with several open scrolls when Laelia approached him. He eyed her up and down and gave her a lascivious grin. “What may I do for you, young lady? You do know this is a court of law?”
She closed her parasol and placed the divorce documents on the table. “I’m here to petition for a divorce.”
Manilius scowled and reappraised her. “Who are you? What do you want?” he asked roughly.
“I’m Laelia Sapiens,” she said without the slightest give. “As I said, I’m here to petition for a divorce. All the documents are here and in order.”
Manilius gave a glance to the fifty-one jurors to his left. “I’m sorry, madam, but there’s no platform for a woman to request a divorce.” He handed her documents back to her, then turned to the herald beside him. “Call for the first case.”
The herald repeated his call. “Quintus Mucius Scaevola, come forward to present your case.”
Laelia laid her documents back on the table. “I seek a divorce from Quintus Mucius Scaevola.”
Manilius addressed the herald. “Please have this woman removed from the court.”
When the herald came toward her, she held out her parasol to stop him, then spoke directly to Manilius. “There is no law, Senator, that says a woman cannot present a case. It’s just never been done. Please hear me out,” she said, turning to the seated jurors. “I have been trained by one of the best legal minds in Rome and have offered advice on nearly a hundred cases.”
This got the jurors talking among themselves, but Manilius had already made up his mind. “I will not hear a case from a woman. If you desire a divorce against the wishes of your husband, your father must present the case.”
“My father can’t be here. He died a year ago. I’m completely capable of presenting the case myself.”
Manilius shook his head to the contrary. “I’m sorry, madam, the court demands that you leave.”
“On what grounds, Senator? I’m fully prepared to make a case.”
Laelia’s confrontation with Manilius had already begun to attract attention. Her appearance did not hurt. Several men in the growing crowd of onlookers shouted out support. Give the woman her due!
Manilius’ face darkened. He stood and leaned up close to Laelia. “A woman married through the institution of manus has no legal right to divorce her husband—no matter who or what she knows. Leave now or I will have you physically removed.”
This invoked more comments from the growing crowd.
One of the jurors came over to Manilius and whispered something in his ear. Manilius frowned at the man, then reluctantly read through Laelia’s brief. When he was done, he glared at her. “You registered this case in your husband’s name. He’s the defendant. Where is he?”
“I issued him a summons to be here today. He ignored it.”
Manilius nodded. “Your documentation is otherwise in order. You may make one short statement to the court and be done.”
“Thank you, Senator,” said Laelia. She made a slight bow to the supportive onlookers, who responded with a combination of suggestive remarks and encouragement, then she turned to the jurors. “As the senator has just said, there is no provision in the institution of manus for a woman to seek a divorce from her husban
d. That’s one reason why I’m here.” She glanced briefly at Manilius. “Currently manus is an extension of patria potestas, the power of the head of a family to exercise complete control over his wife, children, and slaves, including the right to punish them. A father transfers this authority to the man he chooses to marry his daughter. This includes exclusive rights to divorce.”
Manilius rolled his eyes. All she had done was repeat what everyone already knew and accepted as law.
Laelia continued. “The authority of a husband also comes with a responsibility—the responsibility to treat the members of his family—his wife, children, and slaves—with a certain level of respect and dignity to ensure a proper upbringing. That is part of the job of being head of a family. This means that a husband has the legal authority to control all that his wife does, but that does not give him permission to abuse that right. This is common sense and one of the pillars of a good and just society.”
Laelia paused to scan those around her, allowing them a moment to absorb the logic she was using. Then she continued. “I have been married to Quintus Mucius Scaevola since I was fourteen, a total of twelve years. I have given him three sons. I make no judgment on his position in Roman society, but I can no longer live with this man because he has not lived up to the responsibility of his authority.” Laelia lifted her toga from her left shoulder, revealing a large purple bruise that seeped in yellows and blues down her arm. Many in the crowd uttered sympathetic groans. A few of the jurors whispered to each other.
“My husband has used his physical strength to subjugate me during fits of drunkenness or rage.” Laelia lifted the edge of her tunic up to her thigh. I nearly choked at her daring. It froze every man in the place, including Manilius who was sitting just a few feet from her. The thigh looked much like her shoulder; a long bruise ran down her leg from an ugly contusion. She dropped her tunic. “I contend that a husband can be determined unfit for marriage when he uses his authority for no other reason than the fact that he can. Because of my husband’s physical attacks, I can no longer conceive a child. He might soon claim that I am unfit to be a wife. I ask the court to grant me a divorce because my husband has abused me and his legal rights.”
Cornelia- the First Woman of Rome Page 30