"Whatever of my property Sulla can lay his hands on will be confiscated," said Marius, and grinned smugly. "Isn't it fortunate I have money buried everywhere?"
Marcus Junius Brutus hauled himself to his feet. "I'll have to go home and bring away what I can." He looked not to Sulpicius but to Marius. "Where are we going? Are we going our own ways, or is it better to go all together?"
"We'll have to leave Italy," said Marius, holding out his right hand to his son and his left to Lucius Decumius; he came to a standing position fairly easily. "I think we should leave Rome separately and stay separated until we're well clear of Rome. Then it will be better if we stick together. I suggest we rendezvous on the island of Aenaria in one month's time—the Ides of December. I won't have any trouble locating Gnaeus and Quintus Granius to make sure they're at the meeting place, and hopefully they'll know where Cethegus, Albinovanus, and Laetorius are. After we reach Aenaria, leave it to me. I'll procure a ship. From Aenaria we'll sail to Sicily, I think. Norbanus is my client, and he's the governor."
"But why Aenaria?" asked Sulpicius, still unhappy at the decision to quit Rome.
"Because it's an island, it's off the beaten track, and it's not very far from Puteoli. I have many relatives and a lot of money in Puteoli," said Marius, flapping his left hand around as if it annoyed him. "My second cousin Marcus Granius—he's the cousin of Gnaeus and Quintus, they'll go to him—is a banker. He has the use of a large part of my cash fortune. While we all make our separate ways to Aenaria, Lucius Decumius here will go to Puteoli with a letter from me to Marcus Granius. Granius will send sufficient funds from Puteoli to Aenaria to enable all twenty of us to live decently while we're away." He tucked the offending hand into his general's sash. "Lucius Decumius will also look for the others. We will be twenty, I assure you. It costs money to be an exile. But don't worry. I have money. Sulla won't stay in Rome forever. He'll go to fight Mithridates. Curse him! And when he's too committed to that war to contemplate a return to Italy, we'll all come home again. My client Lucius Cinna will be consul in the New Year, and he'll make sure we return."
Sulpicius looked astonished. "Your client?"
"I have clients everywhere, Publius Sulpicius, even among the great patrician families,'' said Gaius Marius complacently; he was beginning to feel better—or rather, the numbness had settled down. Moving toward the temple entrance, he turned to the others and said, "Keep your courage up! It was prophesied that I would be consul of Rome seven times, so this absence is purely a temporary one. And when I am consul a seventh time, you will all be rewarded greatly."
"I need no reward, Gaius Marius," said Sulpicius stiffly. "I do this for Rome alone."
"That's true of everyone here, Publius Sulpicius. In the meantime, we'd better get a move on. I give Sulla until darkness to garrison all the gates. Our best alternative is the Capena—but be careful, all of you."
Sulpicius and the other nine disappeared at a run up the Clivus Palatinus, but when Marius started to walk along the Velia toward the Forum and his house, Lucius Decumius detained him.
"Gaius Marius, you and I are going to the Capena Gate at once," said the little man from the Subura. "Young Marius can dash home and pick up a bit of ready money, he's the youngest and fittest. If he finds the Capena Gate garrisoned, he can find some other way out, even if he has to go over the walls. He can write that letter to your cousin, and your wife can add a bit to convince him."
"Julia!" said Marius desolately.
"You'll see her again, just like you said. The prophecy, eh? Seven times consul. You'll be back. She'll worry a lot less if she knows you're already on your way. Young Marius, your tata and I will wait among the tombs just beyond the gate. We'll try to keep an eye out for you, but if we can't, then look for us there."
While Young Marius turned in the direction of home, his father and Lucius Decumius walked up the Clivus Palatinus.
Just inside the Porta Mugonia they entered the narrow street which ran to the old meeting houses above the Via Triumphalis, where a flight of steps led down off the Palatium. Noises in the distance told them that Sulla and his troops were moving from the Esquiline down into the Palus Ceroliae, but when Marius and Decumius hurried through the huge Capena Gate, no one garbed like a soldier was anywhere near it. They walked a short distance down the road before placing themselves behind a tomb from which they could see the gate comfortably. Many people came through Capena during the next two hours; not everyone wanted to remain in a Rome held by a Roman army.
Then they saw Young Marius. He was leading the donkey kept for fetching large loads from the marketplace or firewood from the hill of the Janiculum. With him walked a woman muffled closely in a dark mantle.
"Julia!" cried Marius, not caring who saw him emerge from his hiding place.
Her pace quickened, she met him and snuggled against him, eyes closing as his arms went round her. "Oh, Gaius Marius, I was sure I had missed you!" she said, and lifted her face to receive his kiss, and another, and another.
How many years had they been married? Yet it was still a deep pleasure to kiss, even in the grief and anxiety pressing upon them at that moment.
"Oh, I shall miss you!" she said, trying not to weep.
"I won't be away so very long, Julia."
"I can't believe Lucius Cornelius has done this!"
"If I were in his boots, Julia, I'd have done the same."
"You'd never lead an army on Rome!"
"I'm not so sure. In all fairness to him, the provocation was overmastering. If he hadn't done this, he'd be finished. And men like Lucius Cornelius and I can't accept that fate, we just can't. The luck of it was that he had the army and the magistracy. I didn't. But if our places had been reversed—I think I would have done what he did. It was a brilliant move, you know. And in all the history of Rome, there are only two men with the courage to have done it— Lucius Cornelius and me." He kissed her again, then released her. "Go home now, Julia, and wait for me. If Lucius Cornelius takes our house away, go to your mother in Cumae. Marcus Granius has more money of mine by far than I've asked him for, so apply to him if you're in need. In Rome, apply to Titus Pomponius." He thrust her away. "Now go, Julia, go!"
She went, looking back over her shoulder; but Marius had turned to speak to Lucius Decumius, and wasn't watching. Her heart swelled with pride. That was how it should be! When important things needed to be done in a hurry, a man ought not to waste his time looking longingly after his wife. Strophantes and six strong servants were hovering near the gate to escort her home; Julia looked where she was going, and stepped out purposefully.
"Lucius Decumius, you'll have to hire horses for us. I don't ride comfortably these days, but a gig would be too noticeable," Marius was saying. He looked at his son. "Did you get the bag of gold I save for emergencies?''
"Yes. And a bag of silver denarii. I have the letter to Marcus Granius for you, Lucius Decumius."
"Good. Give Lucius Decumius some of the silver too."
And so did Gaius Marius escape from Rome, he and his son riding hired horses, and leading an ass.
"Why not a boat across the river and a port in Etruria?" asked Young Marius.
"No, I think that's the way Publius Sulpicius will go. I'd rather head for Ostia, it's closest," said Marius, a little easier in himself because that awful pricking numbness was not so pronounced—or was it that he was getting used to it?
It was not yet fully dark when they rode into the outskirts of Ostia and saw the town walls looming ahead of them.
"No gate guards, Father," said Young Marius, whose vision these days was better than Marius's.
"Then we'll get ourselves inside before orders come to post some, my son. We'll go down to the dockside and see what's what."
Marius selected a prosperous-looking wharf tavern, and left Young Marius minding the horses and the ass in the darkest shadows while he went to hire a ship.
Obviously Ostia had not yet heard the news that Rome had fallen, though everyone
was talking about Sulla's historic march; the whole complement of the inn recognized Marius as soon as he walked through the door, but no one acted as if he was a known fugitive.
"I have to get away to Sicily in a hurry," said Marius, paying for wine for everybody. "Any chance of a good ship ready to sail?''
"You can have mine for a price," said one salty-looking man, leaning forward. "Publius Murcius at your service, Gaius Marius."
"If we can sail tonight, Publius Murcius, it's a deal."
"I can up anchor just before midnight," said Murcius.
"Excellent!"
"I'll need to be paid in advance."
Young Marius came in shortly after his father had concluded his bargain; Marius rose to his feet, smiled around the room, and said, "My son!" before drawing Young Marius outside onto the docks.
"You're not coming with me," he said as soon as they were alone. "I want you to find your own way to Aenaria. The risk to you if you come with me is far greater. Take the ass and both horses and ride for Tarracina."
"Father, why not come with me? Tarracina would be safer.''
"I'm too infirm to ride so far, Young Marius. I'll take ship from here and hope the winds behave." He kissed his son, a mere peck. "Take the gold. Leave me the silver."
"Half and half, Father, or none at all."
Marius sighed. "Gaius Marius Junior, why couldn't you have told me you killed Cato the Consul? Why did you deny it?"
His son stared, flabbergasted. "You'd ask me that? At a time like this? Is it so important?"
"To me it is. If Fortune has deserted me, we may never meet again. Why did you lie to me?"
Young Marius smiled ruefully, looking the image of Julia. "Oh, Father! One never knows what you want to hear! It's as simple as that. We all try to tell you what we think you want to hear. That's the penalty you pay for being a Great Man! It seemed more sensible to me to deny it in case you were in one of those moods when you insist upon doing the proper, ethical thing. In which instance, you wouldn't have wanted me to admit the deed—it would have meant you would have had no choice but to indict me. If I guessed wrongly, I'm sorry. You didn't give me any help, you know, you were closed up tighter than a snail in dry weather."
"I thought you were behaving like a spoiled child!"
"Oh, Father!" Young Marius shook his head, tears shining in his eyes. "No child is spoiled who is the son of a Great Man. Think what I have to measure up to! You stride across our world like a Titan and we all scurry about between your feet wondering what you want, how best to please you. None of those around you is your equal, in brains or competence. And that includes me. Your son."
"Then kiss me again, and go now." The embrace this time was heartfelt; Marius had never thought to like Young Marius so much. "You were absolutely right, by the way."
"Right about what?"
"To kill Cato the Consul."
Young Marius waved his hand about in deprecation. "I know that! I'll see you on Aenaria by the Ides of December."
"Gaius Marius! Gaius Marius!" called a fretful voice.
Marius turned back toward the tavern.
"If you're ready, we'll go out to my ship now," said Publius Murcius, still in that fretful voice.
Marius sighed. Clearly his instincts were right to tell him this voyage was somehow doomed; the salty-looking character was a wet fish, not a lusty pirate.
The ship, however, was reasonable in that it was well built and seaworthy, though how it would perform in the open waters between Sicily and Africa if the worst came to the worst and they had to go further than Sicily, Gaius Marius didn't know. The ship's chief disadvantage was undoubtedly its captain, Murcius, who did nothing save complain. But they put out across the mud flats and sandbars of that unsuitable harbor just before midnight and turned to follow a stiff northeasterly breeze, just right for sailing down the coast. Creaking and wallowing because Murcius hadn't loaded enough ballast in lieu of a cargo, the ship crept along about two miles offshore. The crew at least was cheerful; nobody needed to man the very few oars, and the two big unwieldy rudder oars lay in a following sea.
Then as dawn broke the wind veered through half a circle, and came from the southwest at half gale force.
"Wouldn't it?" demanded Murcius peevishly of his passenger. "We'll be blown straight back to Ostia."
"There's gold says you won't, Publius Murcius. And there's more gold says you'll make for Aenaria." Murcius's only answer was a suspicious glance, but the lure of gold was too much to resist; so the sailors, suddenly as full of woes as their master, took up the oars as soon as the big square sail was reefed in.
Sextus Lucilius—who happened to be the first cousin of Pompey Strabo—was hoping to be elected a tribune of the plebs for the coming year. As conservative as his family's traditions demanded, he looked forward with pleasure to vetoing any and all of those radical fellows sure also to be elected. But when Sulla marched into Rome and took up residence adjacent to the swamps of the Palus Ceroliae, Sextus Lucilius was one of the many men who wondered how it would change his own plans. Not that he objected to Sulla's action; as far as he was concerned, Marius and Sulpicius deserved to be strangled in the bottom chamber of the Tullianum—or, even better, to be hurled from the Tarpeian Rock. What a sight that would be, to watch Gaius Marius's bulky body go flapping down onto the needle rocks below! One either loved or hated the old mentula, and Sextus Lucilius hated him. Had he been pressed as to why he hated him, he would have answered that without Gaius Marius there could have been no Saturninus and—more recent crime by far—no Sulpicius.
Of course he sought out the busy consul Sulla and pledged his support enthusiastically, including his services as a tribune of the plebs for the coming year. Then Sulla rendered the Plebeian Assembly a hollow thing; the hopes of Sextus Lucilius were temporarily dashed. The fugitives were condemned, however, which made him feel a little better— until he discovered that, with the single exception of Sulpicius, absolutely no attempt was being made to apprehend them. Including Gaius Marius, bigger miscreant by far than Sulpicius! When Lucilius complained to Scaevola Pontifex Maximus, he got a cold stare.
"Try not to be stupid, Sextus Lucilius!" said Scaevola. "It was necessary to remove Gaius Marius from Rome, but how can you even imagine Lucius Cornelius wants that death on his hands? If we have all deplored his leading an army against Rome, how do you think the vast majority of people in Rome would react to his killing Gaius Marius, death sentence or not? The death sentence is there because Lucius Cornelius had no choice but try the fugitives perduellio in the Centuries, and conviction for perduellio automatically carries the death sentence. All Lucius Cornelius wants is a Rome without the presence of Gaius Marius in it! Gaius Marius is an institution, and no one in his right senses kills an institution. Now go away, Sextus Lucilius, and don't bother plaguing the consul with such utter foolishness!"
Sextus Lucilius went away. He didn't bother trying to see Sulla. He even understood what Scaevola had said; no one in Sulla's position would want to be responsible for executing Gaius Marius. But the fact remained that Gaius Marius had been convicted of perduellio by the Centuries, and was at large when he ought to be hunted down and killed. Apparently with impunity! To get away free! Provided he didn't enter Rome or any large Roman town, he could do precisely what he wanted. Secure in the knowledge that no one executed an institution!
Well, thought Sextus Lucilius, you have reckoned without me, Gaius Marius! I am happy to go down in the history books as the man who terminated your nefarious career.
With that, Sextus Lucilius went out and hired fifty ex-cavalry troopers in need of a little money—not a difficult thing to do in a time when everyone was short of money. He then commissioned them to search out Gaius Marius. When they found him, they were to kill him on the spot. Perduellio.
In the meantime, the Plebeian Assembly went ahead and elected its tribunes of the plebs. Sextus Lucilius stood as a candidate and was voted in, as the Plebs always liked to have one or tw
o extremely conservative tribunes; the sparks would fly.
Emboldened by his election, impotent though his new office was, Sextus Lucilius called in the leader of his troopers and gave him a little talk.
"I'm one of the few men in this city who isn't hard up," he said, "and I am willing to put up an additional sum of one thousand denarii if you bring me the head of Gaius Marius. Just his head!"
The troop leader—who would cheerfully have decapitated his whole family for a thousand denarii—saluted with alacrity. "I will definitely do my best, Sextus Lucilius," he said. "I know the old man isn't north of the Tiber, so I'll start searching to the south."
Sixteen days after leaving Ostia, the ship captained by Publius Murcius gave up its uneven battle against the elements and put in to port at Circei, a scant fifty miles down the coast from Ostia. The sailors were exhausted, water was low.
"Sorry, Gaius Marius, but it has to be done," said Publius Murcius. "We can't go on battling a sou'wester."
There seemed little point in protesting; Gaius Marius nodded. "If you must, you must. I'll stay on board."
This answer seemed a most peculiar one to Publius Murcius, and made him scratch his head. Once on shore, he understood. All of Circei was talking about the events in Rome and the perduellio condemnation of Gaius Marius; outside Rome, names like Sulpicius were hardly known, but Gaius Marius was famous everywhere. The captain returned to his ship quickly.
Looking wretched but determined, Murcius faced his passenger. "I'm sorry, Gaius Marius, I'm a respectable man with a ship to keep up and a business to run. Never in my life have I smuggled a cargo, and I'm not going to start now. I've paid my port dues and my excise taxes, there's no one in Ostia or Puteoli can say otherwise. And I can't help but think there's a message from the gods for me in this awful unseasonable wind. Get your things and I'll help you into the skiff. You'll just have to find another ship. I didn't say a word about your being on board, but sooner or later my sailors will talk. If you get going now and don't try to hire another ship here, you'll be all right. Go to Tarracina or Caieta, try there."
The Grass Crown Page 97
