SPQR X: A Point of Law

by John Maddox Roberts

  SPQR X

  _______

  A

  POINT

  OF LAW

  SPQR

  Senatus Populusque Romanus

  The Senate and the People of Rome

  Also by

  JOHN MADDOX ROBERTS

  SPQR IX: The Princess and the Pirates

  SPQR VIII: The River God’s Vengeance

  SPQR VII: The Tribune’s Curse

  SPQR VI: Nobody Loves a Centurion

  SPQR V: Saturnalia

  SPQR IV: The Temple of the Muses

  SPQR III: The Sacrilege

  SPQR II: The Catiline Conspiracy

  SPQR I: The King’s Gambit

  The Gabe Treloar Series

  The Ghosts of Saigon

  Desperate Highways

  A Typical American Town

  SPQR X

  _______

  A

  POINT

  OF LAW

  JOHN MADDOX ROBERTS

  THOMAS DUNNE BOOKS.

  An imprint of St. Martin’s Press.

  SPQR X: A POINT OF LAW. Copyright © 2006 by John Maddox Roberts.

  All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner

  whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief

  quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  For information, address St. Martin’s Press,

  175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Roberts, John Maddox.

  SPQR X : a point of law / John Maddox Roberts.—1st. ed.

  p. cm.

  ISBN-13: 978-0-312-33725-4

  ISBN-10: 0-312-33725-6

  1. Metellus, Decius Caecilius (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Rome—History—Republic, 265–30 B.C.—Fiction. 3. Private investigators—Rome—Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3568.O23874S678 2006

  813'.54—dc22 2006040166

  First Edition: May 2006

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  For John Vanover Jr.,

  our own Prometheus: fighter, survivor,

  and a great brother-in-law

  DRAMATIS PERSONAE

  Roman names* can be confusing because of frequent duplication, even multiplication. In 63 B.C. there were no fewer than five very prominent men of the Caecilian family, all named Quintus Caecilius Metellus. Most Romans went by nicknames, and prominent men usually had cognomens bestowed in honor, so those Metelli are all remembered by their cognomens: Celer (dead at this point in the SPQR series), Nepos, Creticus, Pius, and the wonderfully named Quintus Caecilius Metellus Pius Scipio Nasica, Scipio for short.

  To add to the confusion, we know many Romans from the shortened forms of their names used in the Middle Ages and Renaissance. Thus Pompeius became “Pompey,” Marcus Antonius became “Marc Antony,” Livius became “Livy,” Plinius became “Pliny,” Sallustius became “Sallust,” and so forth. Shakespeare did much to fix these names in everyone’s minds.

  Names could also change with changes of status. Thus Caius Octavius was adopted in Caesar’s will and became Caius Julius Caesar Octavianus popularly remembered as “Octavian” (Shakespeare again). Eventually he became the first emperor, and the Senate bestowed upon him the honorific “Augustus,” the name by which he is best known.

  Following are the more prominent characters featured in SPQR X.

  Pawns in the Conspiracy Against the

  Ruling Classes in Republican Rome

  The Metelli and Their Allies

  Decius Caecilius Metellus the Younger. Decius the Younger is the focal point of the conspirators’ plot, despite his reputation as an upright citizen given to ferreting out crime and corruption wherever he finds it. He is first accused of extortion by Marcus Fulvius, a nobody as far as the great families know, and is afterward accused by Publius Manilius, a Tribune of the People, of murdering Marcus Fulvius.

  Decius Caecilius Metellus the Elder, father of Decius the Younger. He is one of the great Metelli and has held every office including the censorship. He gathers the Metelli men and their allies together to help defend Decius against the charges being brought against him.

  Quintus Caecilius Metellus Creticus. He is growing old and stout but is still a voice among the Metelli. A war in Crete got him the cognomen “Creticus.” He stood up to Pompey when others were afraid to, and so he enjoys a high reputation.

  Quintus Caecilius Metellus Nepos. He is the only member of the family to champion Pompey but is still high in family councils.

  Quintus Caecilius Metellus Pius Scipio Nasica, adopted son of Quintus Caecilius Metellus Pius. Scipio is a pontifex and Caecilian by adoption but a Metellus on his mother’s side.

  Hermes, Decius’s freedman. He does most of his scut work and acts as Decius’s bodyguard.

  Julia, Decius’s wife, Julius Caesar’s niece. She is well-educated (better than Decius) and a great help to Decius in solving the crimes he ferrets out. Here she helps Callista decipher the code the conspirators use to communicate with each other.

  Quintius Hortensius Hortalus. He is a friend of Decius’s father and ardent in his defense of Decius.

  Marcus Porcius Cato. Decius dislikes him personally but welcomes his support.

  Callista, an Egyptian mathematician. She (with Julia’s aid) helps Decius by breaking the code the conspirators use to communicate with one another.

  Asklepiodes, a Greek physician and foremost expert on wounds made by weapons. He examines Marcus Fulvius’s wounds and pronounces that he was held from behind while others attacked him from the front, an important point in Decius’s defense.

  Claudius Marcellus, oldest member of the College of Augurs and a friend of the Metelli. He is apparently not a part of his relatives’ conspiratorial dealings and may or may not know about the conspiracy.

  Known Conspirators and Their Cabal

  The Fulvias

  Fulvia, a descendant of the noblest families, formerly married to Clodius, currently engaged to Curio. Clodius was killed by Milo’s thugs. Fulvia was suspected of poisoning others. Though one of the great beauties of Rome she has the worst reputation as a slut, but she is politically astute and usually in on any nefarious goings on in Rome.

  Marcus Fulvius, Fulvia’s brother. While he is an unknown upstart in Rome, he has financial backing in Baiae and in Rome. He accuses Decius the Younger of extortion while on Cyprus. He is found murdered on the basilica steps when Decius shows up for his trial at the extortion court.

  Manius Fulvius, another brother of Fulvia’s. He is a duumvir of Baiae and is probably also backing Marcus Fulvius.

  The Claudia Marcelli* (Old Sullans who are rabidly anti-Caesar)

  Marcus Claudius Marcellus. He has an old sword scar on his face and is this year’s consul.

  Caius Claudius Marcellus, cousin to Marcus Claudius Marcellus, the current consul, and brother to Marcus Claudius Marcellus, most likely next year’s consul, married to Octavia, great-niece of Caesar. He stands firmly with the optimates. He owns the building that Marcus Fulvius lived in and where the conspirators met.

  Marcus Claudius Marcellus, brother to Caius. He is probably a candidate for the following year’s consulship.

  Octavia, married to Caius Claudius Marcellus. She cut her ties with the Julian family when she married, perceives Caesar as a potential tyrant, as do her husband and his brother, and denies even knowing the young Octavius. She believes the Fulvias are connected to the Claudia Pulchri family and considers the tribunes to be “jumped up peasants.”

  The Claudia Pulcri

  Publius Clodius Pulcher (born Claudius). He was bo
rn a patrician and changed his name from Claudius to Clodius, and so became a member of the plebeian class in order to run for Tribune of the People.

  Clodia, sister of Publius and Appius. She changed her name when her brother Publius did. She is considered one of the most scandalous women of her time and is believed to have poisoned her husband, Metellus Celer, and maybe others as well.

  Appius Claudius Pulcher, brother of Publius Clodius. He is standing for censor, and plans to expel many from the Senate if elected, among them Caius Sallustius (who appears to be no more than a harmless gossip but may be more dangerous than he looks).

  The Manilii

  Publius Manilius (Publius Manilius Scrofa), a Tribune of the People. He is prosecuting Decius for the murder of Marcus Fulvius. He is also one of the conspirators.

  Sextus Manilius, a close friend of Fulvia’s and a regular duumvir of Baiae. He is probably also backing Marcus Fulvius.

  Other Characters Who May Be Involved

  Caius Scribonius Curio. He is standing for Tribune of the People and is an enemy of the optimates. He is also engaged to Fulvia.

  Marcus Brutus, a pontifex. He considers Caesar all too arrogant.

  *Look in the Glossary under “Families and Names” for more information on prenomens, nomens, cognomens, etc.

  *Decius believes the Marcelli men murdered Marcus Fulvius.

  SPQR X

  _______

  A

  POINT

  OF LAW

  SPQR

  Senatus Populusque Romanus

  The Senate and the People of Rome

  1

  ROME AT ELECTION TIME! CAN THERE be any prospect more pleasant? Is it possible for any place to be more wonderful? For any activity to be more agreeable? Certainly not for me, and not that year. I was just back from Cyprus after a successful, mildly glorious, and none-too-bloody campaign to suppress a recent outburst of piracy. I had found their base, destroyed their fleet, and, best of all, captured a good part of their loot. The captives I had returned to their homes and had restored a part of the loot to the people from whom it had been stolen.

  Luckily for me, a great deal of the loot had been impossible to trace, so it belonged to me. I had split up some of it with my men, made a handsome donation to the Treasury, and with the rest had cleared my considerable debts. I now had reached the proper age and had accumulated the requisite military experience to stand for the office of praetor. Perhaps best of all, I was a Caecilia Metella, and the men of my family expected automatic election to the higher offices by right of birth.

  To top it all off, the weather was beautiful. It seemed that all the gods of Rome were on my side. As usual, the gods were about to play one of their infamous jokes on me.

  The morning it all began I was at the Porticus Metelli on the Campus Martius, across from the Circus Flaminius, presiding over the consecration of my monument. This porticus, a handsome rectangle of colonnades surrounding a fine courtyard, had been erected by my family for the convenience of the people and to our own glory, and we paid for its upkeep. Some of my pirate loot had bought it a new roof. A monument in the Forum might have been more prestigious, but by that time the Forum was already so cluttered with monuments that one more would not have been noticeable. Besides, mine was not very large.

  But in those days the City was spilling outside its old walls and the formerly rustic Campus Martius, the assembly place and drill ground for the legions of old, was now a prosperous suburb, growing full of expensive businesses and fine houses. And my monument wasn’t just a statue, it was a naval trophy: a pillar studded with the bronze rams of the ships I had captured.

  Actually, the pirate ships had had small, unimpressive rams, since pirates usually tried to board rather than sink ships, and mostly they raided shore villages so their ships had to be able to beach and escape quickly: not an easy task when you have a large ram sticking out in front. So I had had big, fearsome-looking rams cast, one for each pirate ship. Atop the pillar was a statue of Neptune, raising his trident in victory. A little grandiose for a campaign against scummy pirates, but that year all the real military glory was Caesar’s so I took what I could get.

  I was dressed in my toga candida, specially whitened with fuller’s earth, to announce my candidacy for the praetorship. This surprised nobody. My friends and clients applauded as the trophy was unveiled and priests of Bellona and Neptune pronounced the consecration. They were both relatives of mine and glad to help out. Quintus Hortensius Hortalus, my father’s old friend, now grown old and portly, took the auguries and pronounced them favorable in his incomparable voice.

  Many of Rome’s dignitaries were there. Pompey was there to offer his congratulations, as was the tiresome Cato. I would have liked to have Cicero in attendance, but he and his brother were off in Syria putting down a Parthian incursion. My wife, Julia, and many of her relations attended, providing perhaps an excessively large Caesarian contingent. Far too many people already considered me to be one of Caesar’s flunkies. My good friend Titus Milo could not attend as he was in exile for killing Clodius and had not long to live, although I could not know that at the time.

  Still, the morning was glorious, the monument was fine, my future was bright. At last I would hold an office of real power instead of one with endless responsibilities and duties and costing a fortune to support. I would have imperium and would be attended by lictors. With luck, when I left office I would be given a province to govern, one that was at peace, where I could get rich in relative safety. Most politicians wanted a province at war where they could win glory and loot, but I knew that any such position would put me in competition with Caesar and Pompey. I knew far too much of both men to want any part of that.

  My father, ailing and leaning on a cane, had managed to attend. He swore he’d live to see me elected consul, but I feared he would never make it that long. Indeed, it depressed me to look at the knot of my senior kinsmen who accompanied him. All the great Metelli were dead or too elderly for political significance. Dalmaticus and Numidicus had died with my grandfather’s generation, the generation of Marius. My father’s generation had included Metellus Celer, now dead; Creticus, there that day but also growing old and very stout; Metellus Scipio, a pontifex, a Caecilian by adoption; and Nepos, closer to me in age but Pompey’s man, and Pompey was a has-been if only his supporters would realize it. They had all been Sulla’s supporters, and Sulla had been dead for more than twenty-five years. The Metelli of my own generation were still numerous, but they were political nonentities. I included myself in this category.

  Also beside me was my freedman Hermes, still uncomfortable in his citizen’s toga, a garment to which he had been entitled for only a few months. Of course, for official purposes his name was Decius Caecilius Metellus, but that was for his tombstone. He elected to keep his slave name, even though it was Greek. Well, it was a god’s name after all, and many citizens of my generation went by Greek nicknames, some of which were quite indecent and for which there were no Latin equivalents.

  With the dedication ceremony done, we all trooped to the Forum, past the temples of Apollo and Bellona, through the Carmentalis Gate in the old wall, around the base of the Capitol, and into the northwestern end of the great assembly place. It was even more thronged than usual, with the elections coming up and everyone who counted for anything in from the country. It was the season for parties and politics, for intrigue, bribery, and coercion.

  At this time most of the Senate had split into two factions: pro-Caesarian and anti-Caesarian. Caesar was overwhelmingly popular with the plebs at Rome and hated violently by a large part of the aristocratic faction. As usual, such polarization led to strange juxtapositions. Men who, a few years previously, had reserved their greatest scorn for Pompey, now courted him as the only viable rival to Caesar. Theirs was a short-sighted policy, but desperate men will grasp at anything that promises respite from the thing they fear. I tried to keep my distance from all such factions, but my family connections made
that difficult. One of the year’s consuls, Marcus Claudius Marcellus, was among the most rabid of the anti-Caesarians and had not attended my little unveiling ceremony. The other consul, Sulpicius Rufus, congratulated me ostentatiously. Such were the times.

  Doing the usual round of meeting and greeting, we made a leisurely progress toward the foot of the Capitol, near the old meeting place of the comitia, where all the year’s candidates were accustomed to congregate, stand around, preen, and generally proclaim their willingness to serve Senate and People. Here our friends and well-wishers would drop by, take our hands, and trumpet loudly to anyone who would listen what splendid fellows we all were. It was one of our less dignified customs and a constant source of amazement to foreigners, but we’d always done it that way and that was a good enough reason to continue.

  As a candidate for an office with imperium, it was my first order of business to greet the candidates I was supporting for the junior offices in order to take each by the hand and tell everyone what a splendid fellow he was.

  First to get my hand was Lucius Antonius, standing for quaestor that year. Accompanying him was his brother Caius, who was himself serving as quaestor and would be standing down with the upcoming election. These were the brothers of the famous Marcus Antonius, who was serving with Caesar in Gaul. I had always gotten on well with these brothers, who were bad men but good company.

  “Best of luck, Lucius!” I exclaimed, clapping him on the shoulder and raising a cloud of chalk dust. There was always a temptation to overdo it with the chalk when standing for office.

  “And to you, Decius,” the younger brother said, his eyes slightly unfocused and his voice a bit unsteady. At the wine already, I thought. Typical Antonian.