‘Pooh, Lucius Paullus,’ Junia broke in. ‘I suppose you have bribed him again. He’s not a nice man. We must do something to save my brother. You can’t bribe him to change sides.’
‘I would never offer a bribe to Marcus Junius Brutus,’ said Caesar soothingly. ‘He’s an honest man by trade. In fact he is so busy being honest he has no time to be sensible.’
‘But you won’t hurt poor brother Brutus, will you?’ Junia continued. ‘When you have beaten Pompeius you will let him come home and go on being honest in the Forum, where everyone can see him doing it? Then he will live happily until he dies of old age. He will never be dangerous to anyone.’
‘Darling Junia, I wouldn’t dream of hurting any child of your dear mother. She gave me my start in public life, when I was candidate for quaestor with the bloody memory of uncle Marius like a millstone round my neck. As a matter of fact I don’t want to hurt any Roman, not even Pompeius; though I suppose he will fight until I have to kill him. Anyone who is willing to be friendly will be welcome in Rome, at any stage of the war.’
‘Is it so certain that you will win?’ asked Marcus, nettled to see his wife so familiar with this elderly rake.
‘It is. I am as good a soldier as Pompeius, and a great deal luckier. I have conquered Rome in fair fight, and I shall rule in Rome for the rest of my life. Of course I shall be a constitutional ruler, holding some respected magistracy of the republic. I shall need colleagues, and you in particular. The Populars are short of respectable leaders. I’m moderately respectable myself, but I’m sorry to say my legates are not. Mind you, they are all good at their jobs, energetic and faithful and so on. But when I see them assembled at headquarters I wonder that one room can hold so much villainy. There! I don’t ask you to fight against your friends. I ask you to govern Rome while I am on campaign, to build a bridge of friendship that will bring honest Senators back to their homes.’
‘I consent,’ answered Marcus, sitting up in his chair with an expression of noble resolution. ‘I shall govern Rome in the name of the people and their liberties, and I do it the more gladly because you, Caesar, have promised that you will show mercy to your enemies.’
‘Of course I shall be merciful. I have no enemies. Some of my adversaries will be killed in battle, but none will be executed. The proscriptions ended with Sulla, and they will never come again. That is settled, then. In a few days I must be off to Brundisium. I only visited the City to pick up the money those fools left in the treasury. When Pompeius has embarked I shall come back for a few days, so that the people can elect me to some public office. At present I command my troops as proconsul in Gaul, but that doesn’t give me a legal right to post even a sentry in Italy. My next visit will put that right. You are a magistrate, and you can summon an election meeting. Well, I’ve got a lot to do today. Don’t give my escort more than one drink before they leave.’
‘But, surely, Caesar, you will lend me some troops? How can I govern Rome if you take the whole army to Brundisium?’ The voice of Marcus was reedy with anxiety, and he no longer looked dignified.
‘I don’t want to quarter troops in Rome if it can be avoided. It looks bad. I am supposed to be fighting for the liberties of the people, and if I control them with a garrison on the Capitol I shall appear ridiculous. All the same, you must have some kind of military support. Let me see. If the mob gets out of hand you must apply to my legate, Marcus Antonius. He is keeping order in Italy as a whole, and he will have a few cohorts in the neighbourhood. Let everyone know they are near, and can be summoned if need be. Then you won’t have to use them. Now that really is all. I must be getting on. By the way, if Antonius tells you that all debts are cancelled, don’t you believe a word of it. That’s what he would like to happen, but it just isn’t so.’
‘Good-bye, Caesar. Come back soon. And tell your soldiers to be gentle with my brother. If harm comes to him mother will never speak to you again.’ That was Junia, bidding farewell by blowing kisses, in a manner unbecoming to the wife of the urban praetor. Marcus himself bowed with ceremony, and accompanied his guest to the outer porch. The crowd in the street followed after the escort, and at last the Aemilian mansion lay quiet.
Marcus went at once to the bath. It was early in the day to embark on the long and complicated business of bathing; but he thought most clearly while lying relaxed in hot steam, and he must do some clear thinking before he was pushed into making any further important decisions.
As soon as he knew that Caesar was over the Rubicon he had made up his mind to work for the Popular cause; that was why he had eluded Pompeius and returned to Rome. But he had not planned to declare himself a follower of the scandalous and desperate politician; he had expected to conclude an alliance, lending the support of respectability and noble birth to a disreputable faction. Now he was not only a Caesarian; he was pledged to take orders from Marcus Antonius, a notorious rake ten years younger than himself, and, most important of all, one who had never risen higher than quaestor and tribune; therefore one who should take orders from a praetor.
Junia had rushed him into it; it was all her fault. But then, though she was a very good wife and he loved her dearly, the influence of her unconventional childhood still hung about her. Everyone knew that Servilia, her mother, had been Caesar’s mistress in the old days. Some gossipmongers said Marcus Brutus was his son, though that was unlikely. At least Junia was the child of her legal father, old Decimus Silanus who had been Consul more than a dozen years ago; that was proved by every feature in her face. The marriage had not lasted very long, few marriages did nowadays; but Servilia had apparently been faithful while it endured. Her other husband, Marcus Brutus, had been the one to wear the horns, even though he risked, and lost, his life for the Popular cause. But Caesar had been in and out of the house, all over the drawing-room and perhaps the bedroom, while Junia was a little girl playing with her dolls. There was a really nasty story that Caesar had consoled himself with Tertulla, the youngest girl, when her mother grew too mature for his taste. Marcus did not believe it, for wickedness has its natural limits. Probably Caesar had heard the unpleasant rumour; it was just like him to go out of his way to inquire after Tertulla, to demonstrate that he was indifferent to gossip.
Junia had grown up in a rackety atmosphere. When she was excited she reverted to the manners of her childhood, which were unfitting in the wife of a patrician and a praetor. He, Marcus, was to blame. He should never have permitted his wife to set the tone of the interview.
Well, he was committed; he must follow where Caesar led. There was a bright side to that, if you looked for it. Caesar was all often years his senior, and, after such a riotous youth, unlikely to make old bones. A time would come when the leadership of the Popular party would be vacant; and except for Caesar, who could behave like a gentleman when he chose, there was not a respectable ex-magistrate among the Populars. What could Curio say, or Lucius Antonius, if he was called on to reply to Cicero in the Senate? But Aemilius Lepidus, head of a house that had been noble since records were kept, would always command an attentive hearing.
He concluded happily, as the bath-attendant finished rubbing his legs, that blood tells in the end. Ability is also important, but innate ability was part of the Aemilian birthright.
On this crowded eventful day he had not yet dined, though it was long past noon. Now he ordered dinner at once, and sent to ask the lady Junia to join him. His wife had dined while he was bathing; she came to sit beside his couch, and to volunteer advice. She knew that her husband often left his bath dangerously full of self-confidence, and that unless she implanted the right ideas in his head the wrong ones would take root and burgeon.
‘Caesar hasn’t changed a bit,’ she began as soon as they were alone together. ‘He looks older, of course, after that horrid climate in Gaul. His hair is very thin on top. But he’s still the Caesar I knew, mother’s friend. He used to say that politics are great fun, and well worth fighting over; but not really important, not important enough
to call for revenge after victory. I’m glad he still intends to show mercy. We heard such ghastly stories of his massacres in Gaul. Of course the tribes he exterminated were only barbarians. Since he crossed the Rubicon he has treated Romans differently.’
‘Naturally. Romans are different. Caesar sees that as clearly as we do. Anyway, this is not the sort of war to make him lose his temper. What’s it all about? Those soldiers today sang that they were rescuing the tribunes (among a lot of bawdy nonsense that I couldn’t understand). That’s Caesar’s war-cry; but it’s only cant. Curio and Antonius were never in personal danger, though their veto was disregarded when it should have been obeyed. Otherwise the only point in dispute seems to be the validity of the Ultimate Decree. That’s matter for a riot in the Forum; but not for a desperate war, with blood-feuds handed down from father to son.’
‘This war will decide whether Caesar or Pompeius is to be King of the World. Do you think that worth fighting over?’
‘Oh no, my dear. We don’t have kings any more. The people would never stand for it. Caesar may be elected Dictator, as Sulla was; or even sole Consul, as Pompeius was quite recently. There are precedents for such appointments. But he’s getting on, and presently he will want to retire. When he’s gone everything will be as it was before.’
‘Nothing will ever be again as it was before Caesar crossed the Rubicon. Don’t you understand, Marcus? Elections don’t matter now. In future only soldiers with swords will vote. I think Caesar will win; and then he will be King of the World, whatever title he uses. If Pompeius beats him, then Pompeius will rule us. Let it go as it may, there will be only the king and his obedient subjects. But even kings need ministers. As a follower of Caesar you can still be a great man. Unless indeed you propose to try for the throne yourself, and rally the clients of the house of Lepidus to take on both Caesar and Pompeius.’
‘That would be absurd. Both Caesar and Pompeius have been Consuls, so they are greater than I. One day I also shall be Consul, and no Roman can rise higher than that.’
‘Oh, Marcus, look at things as they are. When Pompeius ordered you to leave Rome he was no longer Consul; yet both Consuls left at his command. No one takes precedence of a Consul; but precedence is not power.’
‘There are occasions when the Rex Sacrarum or the Pontifex Maximus take precedence of a Consul. But I see what you mean. Very well, I have agreed to follow Caesar. What more do you want?’
‘If you are to get on you must do more than follow him. You must help him without waiting to be asked for help. Marcus Antonius, as tribune, did more than Caesar asked of him; now he commands all the troops in Italy. If you make yourself useful you may surpass Antonius.’
‘If I don’t surpass Antonius I shall die a very disappointed man. He’s a rake and a rogue and so artful with money that he’s bound to crash one day. But it’s true that as Caesar’s legate he wields more power than he deserves, more power than a praetor. Well, if it’s the only way to get on I shall throw all my energies into this rather absurd civil war. I’ll keep the City loyal to Caesar while he lays siege to Brundisium. I may even arrest a few of his opponents if you are quite sure he will pardon them when he comes back.’
By the middle of March Pompeius had left Italy for Greece, and Caesar was back in Rome. It was seventy days since his one legion had crossed the Rubicon; in that time he had overrun the whole of Italy, enlisting all the Pompeian recruits in his own forces. Marcus had kept the City obedient to its new ruler, but he was very glad when Caesar returned.
The trouble was that no one except Caesar could control his own followers. Curio, the biggest scoundrel of the lot, was busy plundering Sicily; that kept him out of the way. But the three Antonius brothers were always itching to sack temples and confiscate the property of wealthy neutrals. Their soldiers were mostly veterans, thinking only of the snug farms they would soon receive free of charge; they were as eager for loot as their leaders. It was hard to maintain public order with such instruments. Only when Caesar commanded did they obey.
At the beginning of April the victors began the complicated legal process which would give Caesar constitutional authority. For this Marcus was indispensable, since he was the only magistrate in the City empowered to call a meeting of the people. Even then it was not so easy as it seemed; nothing connected with the constitution of the ancestors ever was. At first Marcus proposed to hold new Consular elections, since the Consuls who had assumed office in January must be held to have forfeited their authority when they left Italy without permission. Caesar pointed out with a grin that Marcus was only a praetor, and so could not summon a meeting to deal with the affairs of his superiors, the Consuls. Marcus thought again, and replied that, though in matters of election the powers of a praetor were limited, he could summon the people to vote Yes or No to any law. A Dictator was not elected; he was appointed by a special law, which named him.
Therefore Marcus summoned a meeting; and in due process of law, without any breach of the sacred constitution devised by the ancestors, Gaius Julius Caesar was appointed Dictator of Rome. A group of shady Senators met in an obscure temple to confer the auspices on the new magistrate. This power to discern omens on behalf of the whole City was the very essence of legitimate authority; the Consuls held it by right, but if by flight they had abdicated their powers then the auspices reverted to the Senate and might be granted anew.
By mid-April the lumbering machinery of state was once more in working order, and Rome might be governed by ancestral law. This had come about only because Marcus Aemilius Lepidus had defied Pompeius the tyrant, and at risk of his life preserved the thread of legitimacy.
Caesar, drinking, negotiating, joking, working for eighteen hours a day in the official residence of the Pontifex Maximus which now housed the whole administration of the state, more than once reminded Marcus of the benefit his courage and independence had conferred on every Roman citizen. Caesar was a most stimulating leader. But he never seemed to rest, and he liked to have his chief lieutenants always within call. Often Marcus longed to get away from the raffish atmosphere of party headquarters, which seemed out of place in a house dedicated to the service of the gods.
There was no denying that the atmosphere was raffish. Curio was still absent in Sicily, but the three Antonius brothers brought the reek of the brothel with them whenever they sat down to rip through a pile of reports. They were united in fraternal affection, and for the present loyal to Caesar; but in general they seemed to have no principles at all. The eldest, Marcus, had before the war embarked on a regular political career; the Roman people had elected him to be quaestor, and later tribune; which proved that he stood out slightly from the ruck. Caesar had made him his legate in Italy, so presumably he had some talent as a soldier. But he was seldom sober, and always brazenly seeking bribes. His younger brothers, Lucius and Gaius, had held no public office and seemed to possess no title to consideration; they were as debauched as Marcus, without his facile charm. Yet Caesar doted on the three of them, and they were always at his council table.
At this council the interests of the absent Curio were defended by his wife, the lady Fulvia. It was hard to remember that she had a husband in Sicily, for everyone thought of her as the widow of Clodius the gangster. In his lifetime she had taken lovers innumerable, but after his violent death she had proved a faithful wife; she had harangued the mourners at his funeral until they burned down the Senate House and sacked the mansions of several wealthy Optimates. Now she was always about with the Antonius brothers. Probably one of them was her lover, but it was hard to say which; perhaps all three shared her. She was handsome in a bold masculine fashion, and at party headquarters Marcus rather enjoyed her company; though of course he did not invite her to the Aemilian mansion.
This business of helping to govern the world as Caesar’s minister was exhilarating, if at the same time rather frightening. Sometimes Marcus imagined that he was on the back of a runaway horse, which galloped through very rough country but so far
had cleared every obstacle in its path. There was also the interest of witnessing the workings of a successful military campaign, couriers riding in with dispatches and sentries challenging smartly. Best of all was the pleasure of being gracious to nervous Senators and businessmen who had left Rome with Pompeius, and wanted to change sides now that their leader had been driven from Italy. Every day more of these men came in, after go-betweens had inquired about the prospect of a pardon. Marcus had the task of reassuring them; Caesar had chosen him specially for this duty.
‘You and I, Lepidus, are the only well-mannered gentlemen in this nest of brigands,’ the Dictator said jovially. ‘I’m told that even your private life is respectable; so in that particular you surpass me. I haven’t time to greet these turncoats. But they are valuable supporters all the same, and must not be frightened back to the Optimate camp. If I asked an Antonius to receive them he would begin by stealing the gold rings from their fingers. Go out and be affable to that sweating windbag in the ante-room. If he’s a moneylender tell him he will get his money back one day, or at least the principal without the interest. If he’s in debt tell him he will have time to pay, and that his interest will be cancelled. If he’s utterly broke say I am working on a scheme for citizens to go bankrupt without being sold into slavery. If he’s an honest yeoman farmer remind him that the Populars are the farmer’s friend. If he’s a speculator point out that there will be masses of confiscated land on the market as soon as Pompeius is beaten. Whoever he is, send him away happy, willing to go back to work and pay taxes to this insolvent administration. You can do it, my dear Marcus; here there is no one else who can.’
The task was important and responsible, and not really dishonest. The Caesarian wing of the Popular party did in fact stand for all these policies, in so far as they could be carried out without inconvenience to Caesarians.
Three's Company Page 4
