“Nothing about the Claudians is innocent,” I said.
To my amazement, both men burst into laughter. “They are a difficult lot, to be sure,” Crassus said.
“And now Publius is to be your cat’s-paw in Lucullus’s army, to sow dissent and mutiny among the troops.”
“Now, Decius, how do you expect people to believe hat? The boy needs military experience if he’s to stand for office. What more natural than that he should join Lucullus? The Eastern army is where the action is, where reputations are to be made. And why should Publius want to attack Lucullus’s authority? His elder sister is married to Lucullus. His elder brother, Appius, has been with Lucullus for years and has served loyally all that time. All logic says he would serve his own best interests by pushing Lucullus’s fortunes to the best of his ability. If in spite of all that, Publius should rebel against his brother-in-law …” Pompey shrugged and smiled. “Well, then, that’s just Publius being Publius, isn’t it?”
“The night grows late,” Crassus said, “and our Consulship grows shorter. Decius, do you really think that you have any evidence of wrongdoing to bring against my colleague or me?”
I thought of the documents in the Temple of Vesta. They could be subpoenaed, of course, but only at the cost of compromising the Virgo Maxima, my great-aunt and a lady of such irreproachable worthiness that I would not have endangered her reputation to save myself from the cross. I thought of the document in my house, proving Hortalus’s extralegal freeing of Sinistrus. I dismissed it. As part of a far larger case, that document would have been a solid stone in the wall I was building. By itself, it was proof of a petty corruption too minor to warrant attention.
“There was an amulet among my effects when I was arrested, a bronze camel’s head.”
"I am aware of no such object,” Pompey said. “These items were taken from you.” He gestured to my dagger and caestus, which lay on the bench beside him. “Quite improper, going armed within the pomerium, but we’d have half the population up on charges if we tried to enforce that law strictly.” Somehow, I wasn’t surprised that the token of hos-pitium had disappeared. They were right. I had nothing. With the two murderers, Sinistrus and Chrysis, already dead and a legal confession from Chrysis, I would look like a fool if I tried to reopen the case. I had no proof of criminal conspiracy, no proof of treason. What I did have, for the moment, was my life. All I could do now was try to keep it.
Crassus studied me with his cold eyes. “Decius, we have tolerated your irrational and pernicious behavior thus far out of respect for your family and your father, the Urban Praetor. He has requested that you be released from further duties and precede him to Hither Spain as his legate. We have decided to grant that request.” He handed me a small scroll bearing both the senatorial and the consular seals. “Here are your orders. At first light, when the gates are opened, be on your way to Ostia. You will leave on the first cutter heading west.”
I took the scroll. “Taking a ship in December might be interpreted as a death sentence,” I commented.
“There are less pleasant ways to die than by drowning,” Crassus said. “A generous sacrifice to Neptune might help.”
“Of course,” Pompey put in, “just getting from your house to the gate might be a bit of a problem. Publius Claudius, or rather Clodius, as he’s taken to calling himself, is a man who holds a grudge. You might have to make your way through quite a few of his supporters tomorrow.”
"And,” Crassus said, “I hear that Macro has ordered all his men to stay out of it. He’s reined in that rascal Milo. That being the case, you’d better take these.” He tossed my dagger and caestus to me and I caught them. “You are going to need them at first light.”
Pompey returned to his paperwork. “That will be all, Decius. Best of luck.”
My father was stone-faced when I came out, but I could hear a muted sigh of relief. To my astonishment, Titus Milo was with him. “I was told you were let out of the Mamertine tonight and came here. Thought I’d join you.”
“Does anything happen in this city without your knowledge?” I asked.
“I try to keep up on things.”
“What happened in there?” Father asked.
“I received a suspended death sentence, of sorts.” As we walked, I explained what had transpired, although for my father’s sake I left Hortalus’s name out of it.
“Better than you might have expected,” Father said. “Sea travel at this season is risky, but you can sail north along the coast and put ashore at the first sign of bad weather.”
“I expect to be quite occupied just in getting to Ostia,” I informed him.
“I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you there,” Milo said.
“So I heard.”
“Surely Claudius won’t try to murder you in public!” Father protested. Milo and I both got a good laugh out of that one.
“I still wonder why they were so lenient with me,” I said. “Granted, I did nothing wrong and pursued my duties diligently, but that never stopped those two from killing anyone.”
Milo surprised me by answering. “It’s because they’re in a good mood. You would be too if you enjoyed their good fortune.”
“Yes, that’s why I pressed for this interview tonight,” Father said. “It seemed a fortuitous occasion.”
“What happened?” I asked, mystified.
“The will of Sergius Paulus was read this morning,” Father told me. “He left the vast bulk of his estate to the Consuls and the other magistrates, including”—he tried not to gloat—"a rather generous bequest to me.”
“And freed all his slaves,” Milo said. “Every one of them, and the man owned thousands. He left each one a small cash stake to set them up as freedmen and gave all the rest to the Consuls and praetors.”
I let the implications of this seep in for a few moments, then whooped: “Sergius Paulus, you clever freedman bastard! No wonder you filed a new will every year! Cut your estate up among each year’s magistrates and no one will question all those manumissions.”
Father cleared his throat. “Yes, the will clearly violates the legal limit on testamentary manumissions, but I hardly think there will be any dispute over that.”
I laughed until tears rolled down my face. For the first time in days I felt truly fine. Paulus had proved to me that Rome could still produce decent men, even in the form of fat, rich, drunken freedmen.
We left my father at his house. Before bidding me good night, he said, “You’ve done your duty well, Decius.” It was high praise, coming from him.
At my house, Milo took his leave. “I’m sorry I can’t help you in the morning,” he said.
“I thank you for all the help you’ve given me so far,” I assured him. “At worst, I’ll get a chance to finish the job on Claudius that I started in the Forum.”
I saw his teeth flash in the darkness. “Spoken like a true Roman. I’ll pass the word tonight. Who knows, something might turn up.”
“Do you never sleep?” I asked.
“I told you before, I get ahead by working when other men rest. I’ll be here in the morning, Decius, even if I can’t get any of my boys to come.” He faded into the dark.
I had a few hours until daylight. Cato and Cassandra were overjoyed to see me, although they were shocked at my appearance. I ordered water heated for a bath and peeled out of my filthy clothes.
At least I had my affairs in order and my will made out. My few belongings went into a travel-chest and I sorted through my hospitium tokens for any that might be useful on the journey, assuming I could get out of Rome alive. It was strange to think that all the events of these past few days had turned upon a humble token like one of these. I shook my head at the thought. The ways of men and gods are imponderable, and the most trivial things can loom as large as the greatest. I decided that I would have to take up the study of philosophy, sometime when I was terribly bored with everything else.
Even the prospect of the coming day could not take the
edge off my good mood. I sang as I bathed in a cramped tub and didn’t even wince when Cato shaved me, inexpertly and by lamplight. Then I lay down and had a few hours of dreamless sleep.
Despite the brevity of my nap, I woke feeling refreshed. I rose and put on clean clothes, belted on sword and dagger and threw a clean toga over all. This was no time for fussy legalities. As the first light of dawn came through my windows, I went out into the atrium. Burrus was there to greet me, and he clinked as he moved. He had put on his armor before calling on me. I was touched that the old soldier had come to meet almost certain death with me, but it would have been inappropriate to make any show of it. He wore an odd smile.
“Good morning, Patron. Wait till you see the street outside. It looks like a meeting of the Guild of Archers out there.”
I wondered what in the world he could mean. In the entryway I was further astonished to see my other two clients, both too elderly to be of any use in a street brawl, but serious about their duty to protect their patron. Then I saw what was waiting outside.
A vast throng jammed the street. And almost every head was decorated with a Phrygian bonnet, the pointed cap favored by the mercenary archers who serve the auxiliaries and worn by some priesthoods. It is also worn by slaves who have just been freed. This great mob cheered like maniacs when I appeared. To my intense embarrassment, some of them surged forward and dropped to their knees to kiss my feet.
“What’s this?” I demanded.
“They’re the freedmen of Sergius Paulus, sir,” Burrus said. “I practically had to hack my way through ‘em to get to your house this morning. They’re grateful to you, sir, and they damn well should be. If it wasn’t for you, every buggering one of ‘em might be hanging on a cross this morning. That fat eunuch surely would.”
A man I recognized as Paulus’s majordomo pushed his way up to me. “We heard you might need an escort, sir. We couldn’t let you leave Rome without a proper send-off.” He turned to a pair of husky youths. “Go inside and get the master’s luggage.” Cato, confused and muttering, led the two boys to my belongings.
The majordomo turned and shouted to the crowd: “To the Ostian gate!”
With a huge cheer, the mob surged around me and I was hoisted onto their shoulders, and in that fashion I was carried to the gate. Through streets and squares we went, and it seemed to me that half of Rome was out, laughing and pointing at this new prodigy. Even though it was not on the way, the mob of ecstatic freedmen made a detour to carry me through the Forum. In the shadows of an alleyway I saw the heavily bandaged face of Publius Claudius, eyes glaring hate from amid his gang of cut-throats. The Etruscan blood of the Claudian line had come to the fore, since he was reduced to making cursing gestures toward me. I replied with a popular Roman gesture, one which was not supernatural in intent. And so we went, all the way to the Ostian gate.
I have commanded troops, as every Roman in public office must, but I was never a great general and was never granted a triumph by the Senate. However, I do not believe that any triumphator who has ever paraded up the Via Sacra to the Capitol could have felt as I felt that morning, borne on the shoulders of freedmen.
At the gate they let me down so that I could continue the journey in a more dignified fashion. The greater part of them would accompany me all the way to Ostia and stay with me until I sailed. Titus Milo waved to me from the top of the gate as we passed through.
Beyond the gate the Via Ostiensis stretched, flanked by tombs and memorials. It was a gray, windy, blustery December morning and we would undoubtedly be rained on before long. But the landscape had never looked so beautiful to me. For once, there were no crosses flanking the road.
These events took place during fifteen days of the year 684 of the City of Rome, the year of the Consulship of Pom-pey and Crassus.
GLOSSARY
(Definitions apply to the last century of the Republic.)
Acta Streets wide enough for one-way wheeled traffic.
Aedile Elected officials in charge of upkeep of the city and the grain dole, regulation of public morals, management of the markets and the public Games. There were two types: the plebeian aediles, who had no insignia of office, and the curule aediles, who wore the toga praetexta and sat in the sella curulis. The curule aediles could sit in judgment on civil cases involving markets and currency, while the plebeian aediles could only levy fines. Otherwise, their duties were the same. Since the magnificence of the Games one exhibited as aedile often determined election to higher office, it was an important stepping-stone in a political career. The office of aedile did not carry the imperium.
Atrium Once a word for “house,” in Republican times it was the entry hall of a house, opening off the street and used as a general reception area.
Atrium Vestae The Palace of the Vestal and one of the most splendid buildings in Rome.
Augur An official who observed omens for state purposes. He could forbid business and assemblies if he saw unfavorable omens.
Basilica A building where courts met in inclement weather.
Caestus The Classical boxing glove, made of leather straps and reinforced by bands, plates or spikes of bronze.
Campus Martius A field outside the old city wall, formerly the assembly area and drill field for the army. It was where the popular assemblies met. By late Republican times, buildings were encroaching on the field.
Censor Magistrates elected usually every fifth year to oversee the census of the citizens and purge the roll of Senators of unworthy members. They could forbid certain religious practices or luxuries deemed bad for public morals or generally “un-Roman.” There were two Censors, and each could overrule the other. They wore the toga praetexta and sat in the sella curulis, but since they had no executive powers they were not accompanied by lictors. The office did not carry the imperium. Censors were usually elected from among the ex-Consuls, and the censorship was regarded as the capstone of a political career.
Centuriate Assembly (comitia centuriata) Originally, the annual military assembly of the citizens where they joined their army units ("centuries"). There were 193 centuries divided into five classes by property qualification. They elected the highest magistrates: Censors, Consuls and Praetors. By the middle Republic, the centuriate assembly was strictly a voting body, having lost all military character.
Centurion "Commander of 100"; i.e., a century, which, in practice, numbered around sixty men. Centurions were promoted from the ranks and were the backbone of the professional army.
Circus The Roman racecourse and the stadium which enclosed it. The original, and always the largest, was the Circus Maximus, which lay between the Palatine and Aventine hills. A later, smaller circus, the Circus Flaminius, lay outside the walls on the Campus Martius.
Client One attached in a subordinate relationship to a patron, whom he was bound to support in war and in the courts. Freedmen became clients of their former masters. The relationship was hereditary.
Cognomen The family name, denoting any of the stirpes of a gens; i.e., Caius Julius Caesar: Caius of the stirps Caesar of gens Julii. Some plebeian families never adopted a cognomen, notably the Marii and the Antonii.
Compluvium An opening in a roof to admit light.
Consul Supreme magistrate of the Republic. Two were elected each year. Insignia were the toga praetexta and the sella curulis. Each Consul was attended by twelve lictors. The office carried full imperium. On the expiration of his year in office, the ex-Consul was usually assigned a district outside Rome to rule as proconsul. As proconsul, he had the same insignia and the same number of lictors. His power was absolute within his province.
Curia The meetinghouse of the Senate, located in the Forum.
Dictator An absolute ruler chosen by the Senate and the Consuls to deal with a specific emergency. For a limited period, never more than six months, he was given unlimited imperium, which he was to lay down upon resolution of the emergency. Unlike the Consuls, he had no colleague to overrule him and he was not accountable fo
r his actions performed during office when he stepped down. His insignia were the toga praetexta and the sella curulis and he was accompanied by twenty-four lictors, the number of both Consuls. Dictatorships were extremely rare and the last was held in 202 B.C. The dictatorships of Sulla and Caesar were unconstitutional.
Dioscuri Castor and Pollux, the twin sons of Zeus and Leda. The Romans revered them as protectors of the city.
Eques (pl. equites) Formerly, citizens wealthy enough to supply their own horses and fight in the cavalry, they came to hold their status by meeting a property qualification. They formed the moneyed upper-middle class. In the centuriate assembly they formed eighteen centuries and once had the right of voting first, but they lost this as their military function disappeared. The publicans, financiers, bankers, moneylenders and tax-farmers came from the equestrian class.
Faction In the Circus, the supporters of the four racing companies: Red, White, Blue and Green. Most Romans were fanatically loyal to one of these.
Fasces A bundle of rods bound around an ax with a red strap, symbolizing a Roman magistrate’s power of corporal and capital punishment. They were carried by the lictors who accompanied the curule magistrates, the Flamen Dialis, and the proconsuls and propraetors who governed provinces. When a lower magistrate met a higher, his lictors lowered their fasces in salute.
Flamen A high priest of a specific god of the state. The college of flamines had fifteen members: three patrician and twelve plebeian. The three highest were the Flamen Dialis, the Flamen Martialis and the Flamen Quirinalis. They had charge of the daily sacrifices and wore distinctive headgear and were surrounded by many ritual taboos. The Flamen Dialis, high priest of Jupiter, was entitled to the toga prae-texta, which had to be woven by his wife, the sella curulis and a single lictor, and he could sit in the Senate. It became difficult to fill the college of flamines because they had to be prominent men, the appointment was for life and they could take no part in politics.
SPQR I: The Kings Gambit Page 22
