My heart rose in my chest. “Where is she now?” I gasped. “Will she come back to the theater?”
“Do you have another quadrans?”
“Yes.” I fished a second quadrans from my pocket and gave it to him. “Tell me what you know?”
“It’s been a year since we’ve seen her. She was a slave, but she saved up the money she earned singing to buy her freedom. Then she headed south to look for her son.”
“South? Back to Croton?”
“I don’t really know. What’s it to you?”
“She’s my mother. I’ve been looking for her ever since I arrived in Rome. I got so desperate I went to Paculla Annia for help. It seems I’ve missed her. Is there any chance someone in the Community of Miracles would know where she is? Could you ask, Caelius?”
“For two quadrans.”
“Yes, but only after you’ve talked to him. When can that be?”
“I’ll need a few days, but give me another quadrans right now, and I’ll show you where Paculla is tonight.” He winked suggestively. “It might give you a better understanding of the wiles of her ways.”
Too much time in the streets on a night like this could be fatal. I really wanted to get back to the Claudian residence, but my suspicions had been piqued. I took a coin from my pocket. “Take me there and this copper is yours.”
Again he tried to snatch it from my hand.
“But not until we get there,” I said, gripping the quadrans in my fist. “I have no way of knowing when you might run off to the nearest tavern.”
Ennius grinned. “Ah, you know me too well, Timon. How sad. Come, follow me. I’ll show you something that no one is supposed to know.”
My heart still pounding from his revelation about my mother, I let this dancing fool lead me south through the cattle market to Porta Trigemina, west of the Aventine Hill. Against my better judgment, I followed him out of the city into the wooded area between the Servian Wall and the Tiber River.
“Don’t make a sound,” said Ennius with a finger to his lips. Then he guided me on tiptoes through the trees up the side of a small hill.
He motioned for me to get down, and the two of us crawled to the edge of an outcropping of rock. As I was about to peek over the edge of the precipice, he placed his hand firmly on my shoulder. “My quadrans, sir, before you look. What you’ll see might cause you to fall—or jump.” He grinned at me like a donkey.
I gave him the coin, then pulled myself up to the edge of the rock. Fifty feet below was a pool of water, set in a small wooded glen, lit only by the moon and stars. Twenty or more women and a handful of young men bathed naked in the water or lay about on the grass in all manner of embrace.
“The Stimula Grove,” whispered Ennius, “the secret meeting place of Paculla’s licentious little clan.”
It was more than I wanted to know or see, but the longer I looked, the harder it became to take my eyes away. Portia, wearing not a stitch, sat at the side of the pool, a cup in her hand and her hair falling in loose curls down her back. A young man paddled up to her at the water’s edge. She gave the man a drink from her cup. He laughed and rolled onto his back, exposing his arousal.
Fulvia, Sempronia’s mother, sprawled on her back on the grass. A man lay face-first between her thighs. Almost directly below my perch, a young man rode a woman from behind, thrusting rhythmically to shrieks of female pleasure.
Ennius nudged me. “Do you see her?” He pointed. “Paculla at her best.”
Paculla relaxed on her side at the edge of the glen. An older woman lay beside her with a hand on Paculla’s hip. When the other woman turned into the moonlight, I recognized her as Messalina.
I pushed myself away from the ledge. Ennius did the same. “Worth a copper, eh?”
I was speechless.
“Those are some of the wealthiest women in Rome,” he continued. “It must get boring in their big houses with slaves to wait on them hand and foot. And those young men.” He winked. “They are the sons of patricians, many of whom ran today in the Lupercalia. Take another look, Timon. You won’t get this opportunity every day.”
I told him I had seen enough and crawled away from the viewpoint. Ennius followed me until I stood.
“No stomach for it, Timon?” he chuckled softly. “Shouldn’t women get to play around the way men do?”
I wanted to say I knew some of the women, but didn’t dare. I shook my head. “This is not for me.”
Ennius followed me back the way we had come. When we reentered the city, he agreed to meet me at noon in the forum in five days. He would tell me what he had learned about my mother and I would give him two quadrans. I left him there in the street wondering if I would ever see him again. I hurried back to the Claudian residence, my head filled with serpentine visions of naked men and women.
I knew Portia wasn’t going to be there. I wasn’t sure about Marcellus, but no one was likely to be awake when I arrived. I approached from the rear of the property, thinking the house would be locked. Ithius sat on a stool out front of the stable, looking up at the stars. He smiled at me as I walked up. “What did you think of the Lupercalia?”
“Typically Roman,” I said, then chuckled. I felt like he and I shared a certain cynicism toward Roman culture.
“Marcellus is still up. He’s pouring over his maps.”
I nodded, then blurted out, “I saw Portia.” I had to tell someone, and I trusted Ithius like an uncle.
“I noticed she was still out. Where was she?”
“It’s almost too much to say.” I looked down at my feet.
Ithius let my silence hold.
“Have you heard of the Stimula Grove?”
He nodded slowly. “I’ve never been there, but I’ve overheard the women mention it when they’re here.”
“Paculla Annia was there with Portia and her women friends and some young men.” I hesitated. “They—they were having an orgy.”
“And you think that was an awful thing?”
“Nothing connected to that fake Paculla could be good.”
He tilted his head and smiled. “Sounds like you’ve changed your opinion of the woman. Was it the second reading?”
“What she said about my mother was false. She tricked me.”
“That I believe. But I sense it’s colored your feeling about Portia also.”
I lowered my head.
“Don’t be too quick to judge her. Life with Marcellus can be hard.”
I nodded but couldn’t deny my anger at both women.
I entered the house through the garden. When I reached the atrium, I saw a light in the triclinium. Marcellus stood at the table looking down at a stack of maps. I crept quietly to the room reserved for me and crawled into bed. Instead of sleep, I tossed and turned, thinking about my mother, somewhere in southern Italy looking for me.
CHAPTER 77
The elections were held three days after the Lupercalia. Marcellus’ defense of his command on the floor of Circus Flaminius had not been forgotten. He was one of the first two nominees and was elected unanimously by the Century Assembly. He shared the imperium with a man twenty years his junior, Titus Quinctius Crispinus. It was the fifth time Marcellus had been elected to the consulship, Crispinus’ first. Their inauguration took place on the ides of March. After the ceremonial walk through Rome to the forum, and the sacrifice of two lambs at the Temple of Jupiter, the new consuls convened the first Senate meeting of the three hundred and first year of the Roman Republic.
With Fabius still in Tarentum, Licinius opened the meeting by performing the auspices. Perhaps by intention, though who could ever know, the chickens showed only the slightest appetite. Never a good sign in the eyes of the Roman public.
Marcellus conceded the position of princeps senatus to Crispinus, and the meeting began with the usual series of reports on the state of Rome and its provinces. Though not a Senator, Cornelius Scipio stood on the right side of the amphitheater a short distance from Bibulus, who as one of the tribu
nes of the plebs had a voice in the Senate.
The pro-praetor from Arretium, Calpurnius Piso, gave the first report of the day. “The mood of the colonies in the Po Valley has turned sour,” he said addressing the Senate from the podium. “The talk of Hasdrubal entering Italy from the north has generated an atmosphere of fear. People are saying he will unite the barbarian tribes against them. They are worried their loyalty to Rome will be detrimental to their survival. Arretium is verging on revolt. I was not comfortable leaving when I did, but felt that I needed to make this known in Rome. The time to address this is now, before Hasdrubal arrives.”
Bibulus took the opportunity to shout out the Scipionic party line. “We can make this all a lot easier by taking the war to Africa immediately.”
Crispinus told Bibulus he had not been recognized and gave Marcellus the floor.
“Preparation for Hasdrubal’s arrival is one of our top priorities. The response can’t be fear. I will go to Arretium myself with Calpurnius to address the matter.”
“It can’t be too soon, Consul,” said Calpurnius still standing at the podium. “This week if at all possible.”
“And yet another waste of time,” called out Bibulus.
“You’re out of order, Tribune,” shouted Crispinus, before calling on Manlius Torquatus.
With Fabius absent, Manlius was the oldest man in the Senate by many years. Always crabby and angry, he supported no party, but invariably offered the coarsest response to any issue. He stood up and faced the Senate. “We’ve got four legions in the Po Valley right now. Let them go to Arretium and impress the point with force. It’s the only way to deal with traitors.”
Several of the senators voiced approval for this, but Crispinus quieted them.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” said the co-consul. “There’s plenty of time for Marcellus to go to Arretium before joining his troops in the south. I think sending a consul will make a powerful statement and quiet any fears they have.” He motioned to Licinius.
“I would like to take this opportunity, while Cornelius Scipio is present,” said the pontifex maximus, “to recognize his contributions in Spain.” Several other senators and many of the citizens in the audience echoed his sentiments. “If not for him, Hasdrubal would be in Italy right now, instead of being bottled up in Spain. The people may have given their support to the Fabian faction, but if we don’t rid Italy of Hannibal by the end of the coming campaign, we’ll need a new strategy. Scipio has asked to speak to the Senate on this subject.”
“We will have Hannibal by the end of the summer,” announced Marcellus without being recognized by the chair. “His position has steadily weakened in the last two years. One by one we have won back the most important Carthaginian strongholds—Syracuse, Capua, Salapia, Tarentum. We will put six legions in the south this summer with one intent—destroying Hannibal’s army. If I am sure of anything, it’s that his time has come.”
I stood beside Marcus in the audience that was packed around the perimeter of the room. He looked at me and shook his head. “I’m fully aware that my father believes defeating Hannibal is his destiny. It’s a line that must repeat in his head all through the day. But he’s becoming increasing bold about predicting his success in public. I prefer him as a man of humility.”
With Licinius’ request for Scipio still hanging, Crispinus brought the Arretium issue to a vote. It was agreed that Marcellus would go there the following week.
Crispinus gave Scipio the floor. The Senate members and those in the audience immediately began to buzz. Scipio had stolen Rome’s heart in much the same way Marcellus had when he had returned with Britomartus’ armor.
Scipio, wearing a plain white linen toga, stood up to the podium. Though just twenty-seven, he projected a powerful and gallant presence. His hair was fair, nearly blonde from exposure to the sun, and long, combed back from his forehead so that it fell in waves to his shoulders. In contrast to Marcus’ physical bearing and rugged features, Scipio, with his face shaved clean, had a pleasing countenance and a charming smile, striking more than handsome. But it was his eyes, their clear seeing intelligence, that captivated anyone he might meet—from aged senator to Celtibarian savage.
“Thank you consuls and senators for this chance to speak,” began Scipio, his voice smooth and confident. “Thank you also to the pontifex maximus for his kind comments.” Scipio dipped his head in the direction of Licinius.
With just those few words, and the manner that he said them, he had captured the audience. The entire room quieted to hear what he would say next.
“Let me be clear, I have not come here today to alter the military plans that have already been made for this year. The concerns for Hasdrubal’s arrival in the Po Valley are real, but Hasdrubal has not left Spain yet, and it’s my intention to keep him there through this year and next. Only time will tell if I can achieve that.”
He looked directly at Marcellus sitting stoically beside Crispinus. “I have every confidence in the talents of our co-consuls. I truly hope that by this time next year Marcellus will have destroyed Hannibal’s army and that the war is over. There is no greater field marshal in Rome today than Marcellus. No Roman deserves the glory of defeating Hannibal more than he.” Scipio gave a half-bow to Marcellus.
“However, should things not go as planned,” continued Scipio. “We should prepare contingencies. That’s why I’m here.
“I’ve been in Spain two years now. I have taken Cartagena, gained control of all the other important coastal cities, and found allies in nearly all the mountain tribes. I have sponsored several trips by my naval commander Gaius Laelius to the coast of Africa. I have spoken with Laevinus in Syracuse about the transport of soldiers from Sicily to Africa, and I have visited the port of Libybaeum, one possible staging site.”
Cato called out from the audience. “Carthage must be destroyed.”
I thought Marcus was going to go over and throttle him.
“If by some chance Hannibal is not defeated this year,” continued Scipio, “I believe an aggressive campaign in Africa, one that I propose to lead, will force him back to Carthage and relieve Italy of his presence.”
The crowd responded with cheers of approval. Many present shouted Scipio’s name. When the noise died down, he continued. “I was in attendance at Circus Flaminius when the pros and cons of such a campaign were part of the debate. I heard the references to Regulus. And it’s true, he had a similar plan to take the war to Africa in our first war with Carthage. But I believe the mistakes Regulus made have been exposed and studied, and can be corrected.” Scipio looked directly at the co-consuls. “All I ask is that we are prepared to send an army to the walls of Carthage if Hannibal is still in Italy next spring. Thank you.” He graciously bowed to the Senate and the co-consuls, then strode from the podium, gliding across the floor in his toga, looking more Greek in his presentation than Roman.
The audience loved it. Cheers, applause, shouts for the destruction of Carthage, there was no doubt who the people’s favorite was now. The reaction in the Senate was partisan. Roughly half applauded and joined in with the public’s show of support.
I watched Marcellus the entire time. Even without the slightest sign of emotion, or any movement in the features of his face, I could read his thoughts. He would see to it that Hannibal was not in Italy next year.
After two more reports, the floor was opened to members of the Roman Federation. Three envoys from Tarentum, an older man with white hair and two middle-aged men, stepped forward from the audience. The older man, a Greek, stood up to the podium and addressed the Senate. The other two men stood beside him and stared at the floor. “My name is Lydiades. I have lived all my life in Tarentum. We are a proud colony with a long history of liberty and democratic rule. I come here today to ask for your leniency when you discuss the fate of our city. I cannot deny that we housed an enemy garrison for almost three years. But that was not what the elders of the city wanted. It was the result of betrayal from w
ithin. Once the Carthaginians had gained entry and the Roman garrison had sought refuge in the citadel, we had little or no influence over the politics of our city. We were hostages not citizens. All that we ask is, please, don’t hold us as prisoners of war, grant us our individual liberty and the opportunity to live by our own laws.”
This request was shouted down by several senators. One senator, a heavy-set man with thick brown hair and a full beard, Manius Acilius, called out above the rest, “Tarentines are traitorous Greeks. They deserve the same as the Capuans. No Tarentine citizen should be allowed out of the city.”
Others in the Senate suggested further punishments, but Crispinus, showing remarkable poise leading his first session of the Senate, told the envoys that no fair judgment could be made without Fabius present. He had directed the siege and seen the situation firsthand. Only after his report would any decision be made. The three men from Tarentum were told to wait in Rome until Fabius returned, which would be within the month.
Several reports on grain supplies followed. Sicily anticipated its first significant harvest since the fourth year of the war. The granary in Murgantium would be full by fall, but stocks were currently low in Rome. The wheat purchase arranged with Egypt the previous year was renewed.
The meeting closed with a review of the list of prodigies compiled during the year by the College of Pontiffs. Licinius made the presentation.
“A bolt of lightning struck the Temple of Fortune and the Temple of Mars in Campania,” he began, giving a grave look to all present. “Mice chewed at the gold in the Temple of Jupiter in Cumae. A swarm of bees took over the forum in Casinum. The wall around Ostia was struck by lightning. A vulture flew into the Temple of Jupiter in Caere. A boy in that same town was born with the head of an elephant.” He concluded in the most ominous voice imaginable. “And a lake in Volsinii turned the color of blood.”
Licinius faced the two consuls, sitting side by side in their curule chairs. “These are not small matters, and in the opinion of the College of Pontiffs, reflect considerable disapproval by the gods for the state of affairs in Rome today. My concern for our city, and more specifically for our consuls, could not be greater. I request a day of prayer on the nones of April, and the sacrifice of two mature oxen each day after until we gain a favorable reading of the entrails.”
The Death of Marcellus Page 38
