His sons were both in attendance at court, though no wife remained; his queen had died years earlier (she was the mother of his elder son, another Nicomedes), and so had his minor wife (she was the mother of the younger son, named Socrates). Neither the younger Nicomedes nor Socrates could be called youthful; the younger Nicomedes was sixty-two years of age, and Socrates was fifty-four. Though both were married, both sons were as effeminate as their father. The wife of Socrates was a mouselike little creature who hid in corners and scurried when she moved, but the wife of the younger Nicomedes was a big, strapping, hearty woman much addicted to practical jokes and booming gusts of laughter; she had borne the younger Nicomedes a girl,
Nysa, who was now perilously close to being too old for marriage, yet had never married; the wife of Socrates was childless, as indeed was he.
"Mind you, that's to be expected," said a young male slave to Julia as he tidied up the sitting room she had been given for her exclusive use. "I don't think Socrates has ever managed to succeed in penetrating a woman! As for Nysa, she's inclined the other way—likes fillies, though that's not surprising—she's got a face like a horse."
"You are impertinent," said Julia in freezing tones, and waved the young man out of the room, disgusted.
The palace overflowed with handsome young men, most of slave status, a few it seemed free men in service to the King or his sons; there were also dozens of little page boys, even prettier than the young men. What their chief duty was, Julia tried to put out of her mind, especially when she thought of Young Marius, so attractive and friendly and outgoing, almost ready to enter the initial stages of puberty.
"Gaius Marius, you will keep an eye on our son, won't you?" she asked her husband delicately.
"What, with all these mincing flowers prancing around?" Marius laughed. "You needn't be afraid on his behalf, mea vita. He's awake, he knows a pansy from a side of pork."
"I thank you for the reassurance—and the metaphor," said Julia, smiling. "You don't grow any more verbally graceful with the passing of the years, do you, Gaius Marius?"
"Quite the opposite," he said, unperturbed.
"That was what I was trying to say."
"Were you? Oh."
"Have you seen enough here?" she asked, rather abruptly.
"We've scarcely been in residence eight days," he said, surprised. "Does it oppress you, all this circus atmosphere?"
"Yes, I think it does. I always wanted to know how kings lived, but if Bithynia is any example, I'd much prefer a Roman existence. It isn't the homosexuality, it's the gossip and the airs and affectations. The servants are a disgrace. And the royal women are not women with whom I have anything in common. Oradaltis is so loud I want to cover my ears, and Musa—how well named she is in Latin, if you think of mus the mouse rather than musa the muse! Yes, Gaius Marius, as soon as you feel you can move on, I would be grateful," said Julia the austere Roman matron.
"Then we'll move on at once," said Marius cheerfully, taking a scroll from the sinus of his toga. "Having followed us all the way from Halicarnassus, this has finally found me. A letter from Publius Rutilius Rufus, and guess where he is?"
"Asia Province?"
"Pergamum, to be exact. Quintus Mucius Scaevola is the governor this year, and Publius Rutilius is with him as his legate.'' Marius waved the letter gleefully. “I also gather that governor and legate would be absolutely delighted to see us. Months ago, as this was intended to reach us in the spring. By now, they'll be starved for company, I imagine."
"Aside from his reputation as an advocate," said Julia, "I don't know Quintus Mucius Scaevola at all."
"I don't know him well myself. And of him, little more, than the fact that he and his first cousin Crassus Orator are inseparable. Not surprising I don't know him, really. He's barely forty."
Under the impression that his guests would remain with him for at least a month, old Nicomedes was reluctant to let them go, but Marius was more than a match for an anxious, rather silly antique like the second Nicomedes. They left with the King's wails piercing their ears, and sailed down through the narrow straits of the Hellespont into the Aegean Sea, the winds and currents with them.
At the mouth of the Caicus River their ship turned into it, and so they came to Pergamum, a few miles inland, by exactly that route which showed the city to best advantage, high on its acropolis, and surrounded by tall mountains.
Quintus Mucius Scaevola and Publius Rutilius Rufus were both in residence, but Marius and Julia were fated not to get to know Scaevola better, for he was just about to leave for Rome.
"Oh, what company you would have been during this last summer, Gaius Marius!" said Scaevola with a sigh. "As it is, I must reach Rome before the season makes traveling by sea too risky." He smiled. "Publius Rutilius will tell you all."
Marius and Rutilius Rufus went down to wave Scaevola off, leaving Julia to settle into a palace she liked far more than the menage at Nicomedia, even if feminine company was just as scarce.
Of course Marius didn't think of Julia's lack of feminine companionship; he left her to her own devices, and settled down to hear the news from his oldest and dearest friend. "Rome first," he said eagerly.
"I'll give you the really excellent news first, then," said Publius Rutilius Rufus, smiling in pure pleasure; how good it was to meet Gaius Marius so far from home! "Gaius Servilius Augur died in exile at the end of last year, and of course there had to be an election to fill his place in the College of Augurs. And you, Gaius Marius, were elected."
Marius gaped. "I?"
"None other."
"I never thought—why me?"
"You still have a lot of support among the voters in Rome, in spite of the worst Catulus Caesar and his like can do, Gaius Marius. And I think the voters felt you deserved this distinction. Your name was put up by a panel of knights, and—there being no rule against election in absentia—you won. I can't say your victory was well received by the Piglet and company, but it was very well received by Rome at large."
Marius heaved a sigh of sheer satisfaction. "Well, that's good news, all right! An augur! Me! It means my son will be priest or augur in his turn, and his sons after him. It means I did it, Publius Rutilius! I managed to get inside the heart of Rome, Italian hayseed with no Greek though I may be."
"Oh, hardly anyone says that sort of thing about you anymore. The death of Piggle-wiggle was a milestone of sorts, you know. Had he still been alive, I doubt you could have won any election," said Rutilius Rufus deliberately. "It wasn't that his auctoritas was so much greater than anyone else's, or even his following. His dignitas, however, had become enormous after those battles in the Forum while he was censor—love him or hate him, everyone admits his courage was supreme. But I think his most important function was that he formed a nucleus around which too many others could clot; and after he returned from Rhodes, he exerted all his energies to pull you down. I mean, what other task was left for him to do? All that power and influence was directed at destroying you. His death came as a terrific shock, you know. He looked so well when he came home! I for one thought he'd be with us for many years to come. And then—he was dead."
"Why was Lucius Cornelius there with him?" Marius asked.
"No one seems to know. They hadn't been thick, so much is sure. Lucius Cornelius simply said his presence was an accident, that he hadn't intended to dine with Piggle-wiggle at all. It's really very odd. What perturbs me most, I suppose, is that the Piglet seems to find nothing strange in Lucius Cornelius's presence there. And that indicates to me that Lucius Cornelius was making a move to join Piggle-wiggle's faction." Rutilius Rufus frowned. "He and Aurelia have had a severe falling out."
"Lucius Cornelius and Aurelia, you mean?"
"Yes."
"Where did you hear that?"
"From Aurelia."
"Didn't she say why?"
"No. Just said that Lucius Cornelius wouldn't be welcome in her house again," Rutilius Rufus said. "Anyway, he went off to Nearer Spa
in not long after Piggle-wiggle died, and it wasn't until he was gone that Aurelia told me. I think she was afraid I'd tax him with it if he was still in Rome. All in all, an odd business, Gaius Marius."
Not very interested in personal differences, Marius pulled a face and shrugged. "Well, it's their business, however odd it may be. What else has happened?"
Rutilius Rufus laughed. "Our consuls have passed a new law, forbidding human sacrifice."
"They what!"
"They passed a law forbidding human sacrifice."
"That's ridiculous! How long is it since human sacrifice was a part of Roman life, public or private?'' asked Marius, looking disgusted. "What rubbish!"
"Well, I believe they did sacrifice two Greeks and two Gauls when Hannibal was marching up and down Italy. But I doubt that had anything to do with the new lex Cornelia Licinia."
"What did, then?"
"As you know, Gaius Marius, sometimes we Romans decide to point up a new aspect of public life by rather bizarre means. I think this law falls into that category. I think it's meant to inform the Forum Romanum that there is to be no more violence, no more deaths, no more imprisonment of magistrates, no more illegal activity of any kind," said Rutilius Rufus.
"Didn't Gnaeus Cornelius Lentulus and Publius Licinius Crassus explain?" asked Marius.
"No. They just promulgated their law, and the People passed it."
"Tchah!" said Marius, and passed on. "What else?"
“The younger brother of our Pontifex Maximus, a praetor this year, was sent to Sicily to govern there. We'd had rumors of yet another slave insurrection, if you'd believe that."
"Do we treat our slaves in Sicily so badly?"
"Yes—and no," said Rutilius Rufus thoughtfully. "There are too many Greek slaves there, for one thing. A master doesn't need to ill-treat them to have trouble on his hands, they're very independent. And I gather that all the pirates Marcus Antonius Orator captured were put to work in Sicily as grain slaves. Not work to their liking, I'd say. Marcus Antonius, by the way," Rutilius Rufus announced, "has adorned the rostra with the beak of the biggest ship he destroyed during his campaign against the pirates. Most imposing-looking thing."
"I wouldn't have thought that there was room. The rostra's stuffed with ship's beaks from this sea battle and that," said Marius. "Anyway, do get on with it, Publius Rutilius! What else has happened?"
"Well, our praetor Lucius Ahenobarbus has created havoc in Sicily, so we hear, even in Asia Province. He's gone through the place like a high wind. Apparently he hadn't been in Sicily long enough to get his land legs when he issued a decree that no one in the whole country was to own a sword or other weapon, save for soldiers and the militia under arms. Of course no one took the slightest notice."
Marius grinned. "Knowing the Domitii Ahenobarbi, I would say that was a mistake."
"It was indeed. Lucius Domitius cracked down unmercifully when his decree was ignored. All of Sicily is smarting. And I very much doubt there'll be any uprisings, servile or free."
"Well, they're a crude lot, the Domitii Ahenobarbi, but they do get results," said Marius. "And is that the end of the news?"
"Just about, save only that we have new censors in office, and that they've announced they intend to take the most thorough census of all Roman citizens anywhere in many decades."
"About time. Who are they?"
"Marcus Antonius Orator and your consular colleague, Lucius Valerius Flaccus." Rutilius Rufus rose to his feet. "Shall we take a walk, old friend?"
Pergamum was perhaps the most carefully planned and built city in the world; Marius had heard that, and now saw it for himself. Even in the lower town sprawled around the base of the acropolis there were no narrow alleyways or tumbledown blocks of apartments, for everything was obviously subject to a rigid system of surveys and building codes. Vast drains and sewers underlay all areas of human habitation, and running water was piped everywhere. Marble seemed to be the material of choice. The pillared colonnades were many and magnificent, the agora was huge and filled with superb statuary, and a great theater plunged down the slope of the rock.
And yet, an air of dilapidation clung to town and citadel both; things were not being kept up in the way they had been during the reigns of the Attalids who had conceived and cared for Pergamum, their capital. Nor did the people look content; some, noted Marius, looked hungry, surprising in a rich country.
"Our Roman tax-farmers are responsible for what you see," said Publius Rutilius Rufus grimly. "Gaius Marius, you have no idea what Quintus Mucius and I found when we got here! The whole of Asia Province has been exploited and oppressed for years, due to the greed of these idiot publicani! To begin with, the sums Rome asks for the Treasury are too high; then the publicani bid too much on top of that—with the result that in order to make a profit, they have to wring Asia Province out drier than a dishrag! It's a typical money-hungry enterprise. Instead of concentrating upon settling Rome's poor on public land and funding the buying of that public land from the taxes of Asia Province, Gaius Gracchus would have done better to have first sent a team of investigators to Asia Province to assess exactly what the taxes ought to be. But Gaius Gracchus did not do that. Nor has anyone since. The only estimates available in Rome are estimates plucked out of thin air by the commission which came here just after King Attalus died—and that is thirty-five years ago!"
"A pity I wasn't aware of any of this when I was consul," said Marius sadly.
"My dear Gaius Marius, you had the Germans to worry about! Asia Province was the last place on earth anyone in Rome thought of during those years. But you are right. A Marian-administered commission sent here would quickly have determined realistic figures—and disciplined the publicani! As it is, the publicani have been allowed to become insufferably arrogant. They rule Asia Province, not Rome's governors!"
Marius laughed. "I'll bet the publicani got a shock this year, with Quintus Mucius and Publius Rutilius in Pergamum."
"They certainly did," said Rutilius Rufus with a reminiscent grin. "You could have heard them squeal in Alexandria. Rome has certainly heard them squeal—which is why, between you and me, Quintus Mucius has gone home early."
"What exactly have you been doing here?"
"Oh, just regulating the province and its taxes," said Rutilius Rufus blandly.
"To the detriment of the Treasury and the tax-farmers."
"True." Rutilius Rufus shrugged, turned into the great agora. He waved his hand at an empty plinth. "We've stopped this kind of thing, for a start. There used to be an equestrian statue of Alexander the Great up there—the work of no less than Lysippus, and held to be the finest portrait he ever did of Alexander. Do you know where it is now? In the peristyle of none other than Sextus Perquitienus, Rome's richest and most vulgar knight! Your close neighbor on the Capitol. He took it as payment of tax arrears, if you please. A work of art worth a thousand times the sum in question. But what could the local people do? They just didn't have the money. So when Sextus Perquitienus pointed his wand at the statue, it was taken down and given to him."
"It will have to be given back," said Marius.
"Small hope," said Rutilius Rufus, sniffing scornfully.
"Is that what Quintus Mucius has gone home to do?"
"One might wish! No, he's gone home to stop the publicani lobby in Rome having him and me prosecuted."
Marius stopped walking. "You're joking!"
"No, Gaius Marius, I am not joking! The tax-farmers of Asia wield enormous power in Rome, especially among the Senate. And Quintus Mucius and I have mortally offended them by putting the affairs of Asia Province on a proper footing," said Publius Rutilius Rufus. He grimaced. "Not only have we mortally offended the publicani, we have also mortally offended the Treasury. There are those in the Senate who might be of a mind to ignore the tax-farming companies when they start squealing, but ignore the Roman Treasury they will not. As far as they can see things, any governor who reduces the Treasury's income is a traitor. I t
ell you, Gaius Marius, the last letter Quintus Mucius received from his cousin Crassus Orator caused him to go the same color as his toga! He was informed there was a movement under way to have him stripped of his proconsular imperium, and prosecuted for extortion and treason. So off he went home in a hurry, leaving me here to govern until next year's appointee arrives."
Thus it was that on their way back to the governor's palace Gaius Marius took note of the way Publius Rutilius Rufus was greeted by everyone who passed by—warmly, with obvious affection.
"They love you here," he said, not really surprised.
"Even more do they love Quintus Mucius. We've made a very big difference to their lives, Gaius Marius, and for the first time they have seen true Romans at work. I for one cannot find it in me to blame them for the hatred they cherish for Rome and Romans. They have been our victims, and we have used them abominably. So when Quintus Mucius reduced the taxes to what we had estimated as a fair figure, and put a stop to the extortionate brand of usury some of the local representatives of the publicani have been practising, why—they danced in the streets, quite literally! Pergamum has voted an annual festival in honor of Quintus Mucius, and so I believe has Smyrna, and Ephesus. At first they kept sending us gifts—extremely valuable things too— works of art, jewels, tapestries. And when we sent them back with our thanks, they were returned to us. In the end, we had to refuse to let them come inside the palace door."
The Grass Crown Page 13
