Marcus felt a surge of hope. He asked excitedly, ‘Which one is he?’
Lupus pointed at a well-built man sitting in the front row. He had blond hair, artfully arranged in a neat quiff, and wore gold tores on his hairy wrists, with another around his thick neck. He sat back, arms folded, and nodded at each point made by Crassus. Around him sat a group of senators watching him closely for cues as they added their gestures of support to his.
Marcus stared at the famous general, his excitement building. This was the man for whom Titus had fought, and whose life he had saved in the final battle against Spartacus and his rebel army. This was the man who could help Marcus free his mother, the man Marcus had hoped to find when he first set out for Rome. Perhaps Portia was right, and he should be grateful for ending up in Caesar’s household. He’d never have known how to track down General Pompeius otherwise.
And now he must find some way to get close enough to speak to Pompeius. If only he could do that, Marcus was certain that he would put an end to his mother’s suffering. His mind was suddenly filled with images of her chained to other slaves. He knew she was being forced to work on the farm estate owned by Decimus, the tax collector responsible for inflicting all the suffering that Marcus had endured since the day his men had turned up at Titus’s farm. In his mind’s eye, Marcus saw Titus die at the hands of Decimus’s henchman, Thermon. Then he saw his mother’s face, weary and tear-stained. He felt his throat tighten and his eyes sting as his own tears began to well up.
He cuffed them away before Lupus noticed, angry with himself. He had to be strong, or there would be no chance of saving his mother and himself. He had to remember his gladiator training which had taught him to withstand suffering, to bear pain and injustice without complaint. With an effort, he pushed the images of his mother aside and concentrated on the debate. He needed to think about how it could help his own cause.
Crassus had finished his speech, to mild applause from most of the senators, and loud cheers from the public. One of the senators close to Pompeius stood up to offer his support, before entering into a lengthy speech in praise of Pompeius. The great general accepted this with a modest nod of his head. When the senator had resumed his seat another figure rose to his feet. A complete contrast to the other senators, the tall, thin man was dressed in a simple beige toga over a brown tunic. He wore plain sandals and his hair looked unkempt. The muttering of the watching public died away.
‘Here comes trouble,’ said Lupus. ‘That’s Cato. One of our master’s bitterest enemies. And, incidentally, the father-in-law of the other consul, Bibulus.’
The senator glared round at the other senators and the watching public, before finally fixing his dark, piercing eyes on Caesar.
‘This measure,’ he began in an icy, contemptuous tone, ‘is little more than a brazen attempt to win the support of the mob for the personal political glory of Caesar and his puppet master, Gnaeus Pompeius. The fact that Senator Crassus has performed an about-turn to add his support to theirs smacks of a conspiracy aimed against the members of this house and the people of Rome!’
‘Ouch,’ Lupus muttered. ‘Caesar’s not going to like that.’
Marcus turned his gaze towards his master and saw that he sat as still as a statue, his face fixed in a calm expression of concentration. If he was hurt or angered by the accusation, no onlooker would have guessed it. Marcus felt a growing admiration for his master.
‘The land owned by the Republic is there for all the people!’ Cato thundered. ‘It is not the personal property of a general to distribute to his soldiers, however deserving they may be.’
His sarcastic tone was not lost on the onlookers and there were angry shouts from the crowd pressing round the windows.
‘Aristocratic scum!’ a voice close to Marcus yelled.
‘They want the land for themselves!’ yelled another.
Cato folded his arms and waited for the shouting to stop before he continued. ‘Whatever the merits of rewarding our soldiers, this measure is a dagger aimed at the heart of Rome. Caesar and his allies intend to tighten their grip on power. It is up to us, fathers of the nation.’ Cato swept his arms wide to indicate his fellow senators. ‘It is up to us to make a stand against these men, these powerful figures conspiring against us from the shadows.’
An older man at his side clapped his hands together in loud applause and other senators joined in.
‘That’s Cicero,’ Lupus explained. ‘He’s one of the wiliest jackals in Rome. He’ll argue black is white and have you believe it too, until the moment you trip over the truth and fall flat on your face. Cicero’s a man to keep an eye on - any devious back-room deal negotiated in Rome, you can be sure he’ll be in on it.’
As Cato resumed his address, Marcus couldn’t help wondering at the bitter rivalry between the members of the Senate. He had never really thought about politics before - Rome had seemed so far away from his old life. Titus had always regarded politicians with contempt and said that man for man they could never be a match for the general who had marched his armies across much of the known world. From what little Marcus had gleaned from Titus as he was growing up, and others he had encountered since being brought to Italia as a slave, the Senate was supposed to be where the finest minds of the Republic met to discuss and pass new laws. Yet now that he stood in front of these senators, Marcus was struck mostly by the fact that they seemed to hate one another.
Cato continued to talk and talk and talk, as the first hour of debate dragged on into the second, and on past noon. He piled one accusation and insult on top of another and then went on into a rambling account of the long history of resisting tyranny that stretched back over hundreds of years to the age in which the Roman people rose up against their last king, Tarquin the Proud, and first became a republic. At length some of the people gathered at the windows began to drift away. Marcus felt his feet begin to ache and he eased himself forward, resting his weight on the wooden rail. He had stopped listening to Cato and was bored. He was not the only one. Down on the senators’ benches, several older members had dozed off, heads slumped forwards. The snores of one spindly old man, slumped against the back of his bench, were clearly audible as Cato droned on. Marcus noticed that Caesar’s earlier patience had begun to crumble. Now he was openly scowling at Cato.
‘It’s as the master anticipated,’ said Lupus. ‘Cato means to talk out the proposal.’
‘What does that mean?’ asked Marcus.
‘It means that if he keeps talking until sunset, then the clerk has to postpone the debate until the next day. If he does it tomorrow the measure will be put back again.’
‘Is he allowed to do that?’
‘It’s in the rules,’ Lupus shrugged. ‘That’s politics for you.’
‘Surely our master won’t allow him to get away with it.’
‘No. He won’t. But equally he doesn’t want to be seen breaking the rules to push the measure through. Not if he can help it.’
Marcus looked down towards the two consuls sitting in their special chairs. Caesar was frowning as his fingers drummed on the arm of his chair. Bibulus sat beside him - a faint smile on his face as he folded his hands together contentedly.
An hour after noon Cato paused momentarily to sit down and send a clerk to fetch him a drink. At once Caesar was on his feet.
‘I thank Senator Cato for his contribution to the debate. I’m sure we’ve all enjoyed the history lesson.’
Several of the senators laughed. Cato rose up, shaking his head as he raised his arms to draw attention to himself. ‘I have not concluded my speech!’
‘But you have,’ Caesar insisted with a smile. ‘When you took your seat again.’
‘I was merely pausing. I have not finished.’
‘You have said more than enough already, and tested our patience to the limit,’ Caesar responded firmly.
‘I will not yield my right to speak until I am ready to,’ Cato countered.
‘You have abused your right,
’ argued Caesar. ‘You have made your opposition to my measure clear to all. Now it is the turn of someone else.’
‘That is for me to decide! I will not stand down.’
‘Then you are refusing to respect the rules of the Senate.’
Caesar sat down and clicked his fingers towards the lictors standing behind the consuls’ chairs. ‘Remove that man from the Senate House!’
A series of gasps and mutterings came from the senators. After a brief hesitation the leader of the lictors gestured to his men and they strode up between the stone benches and surrounded Cato, who folded his arms and stood his ground defiantly. When he refused to budge, two of the lictors took him by the arms and dragged him towards the aisle.
‘You can’t do this!’ Bibulus protested loudly. ‘This is an outrage!’
‘And Cato’s actions are against the rules,’ Caesar responded. ‘He has made his point and now he is obstructing a free and fair debate. We shall continue without him.’
Marcus watched in astonishment as Cato was dragged out of the chamber and pushed a short distance down the steps outside. He made an attempt to re-enter but the lictors firmly barred his way. Inside the chamber Bibulus had risen to his feet, his face almost purple with rage.
‘This is a scandal! An outrage! This is tyranny!’
‘No, it isn’t,’ Caesar replied calmly. ‘If it was, then no doubt you would already be dead.’
‘You dare to threaten me? A consul of Rome?’
‘Calm yourself, dear Bibulus, before you do yourself some mischief. Let us continue the debate.’
‘No! I refuse.’ Bibulus struggled to raise his ponderous bulk from his chair. His head held high, he strode towards the entrance of the chamber. ‘I will not go along with this attempt to abuse the power of the Senate. Furthermore, I will veto any attempt to vote on the measure.’ He paused to look round at the other senators. ‘I urge any of you who value your honour to join me, and Senator Cato.’
There was a short pause as the senators looked at each other self-consciously, then Cicero stood up and made his way over to Bibulus. Another senator joined him, then another, then more, until Marcus estimated that nearly a third of them had taken sides against Caesar. As they made their way out of the chamber, Caesar stood up.
‘Today’s business is adjourned. The debate will be resumed tomorrow, in the Forum, when I will set the matter before the people to decide.’ As he concluded, he glanced up towards where Marcus and Lupus were watching events. He nodded at Lupus, then turned away to lead the rest of the senators out of the chamber.
‘Come on!’ Lupus grabbed Marcus’s arm.
‘What is it?’
‘A little surprise for our friend Bibulus that Caesar planned earlier. It’s richly deserved . . .’
They pushed their way through the remaining crowd and hurried down the steps at the front of the Senate House to where Festus was waiting with Caesar’s bodyguard. Above them, the senators of both factions were mingling on the stairs. Marcus could see Cato and Bibulus protesting indignantly as they rallied their supporters.
Lupus stood in front of Festus. ‘The master is ready to spring his surprise.’
‘Oh, good!’ Festus rubbed his hands together and turned to one of his men. ‘Everything ready?’
‘Yes, sir.’ The man chuckled as he nodded towards something behind him that Marcus couldn’t quite see. ‘He’ll get the shock of his life.’
‘Right then, we’ll strike the moment Bibulus heads down the steps. You boys stay close to me and watch yourselves. Could get rough.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Marcus replied. ‘But don’t worry, I can look after myself.’
‘So I’ve seen. Then keep an eye on Lupus for me.’
They waited a moment until there was a cry from the crowd in the Forum.
‘Here he comes!’
Caesar emerged into the afternoon light, flanked by Pompeius and Crassus. He pointed an accusing finger at Cato and called out loudly, ‘You have defied the people’s will today, my friend, but you cannot deny them their due reward forever.’
‘We’ll see!’ Cato shouted back. ‘Come, Bibulus, the air here is too foul for us to linger. ’
Swinging round, Cato began to descend the stairs, as Bibulus and the rest of their faction hurried after him.
‘Here we go, lads!’ Festus waved his arm towards them.
The men surged forward, shouting threats and insults as they stormed up the steps. Marcus did his best to stay close to Lupus while keeping up with the men, clutching the shaft of his club tightly. The scribe’s eyes were wide with fear and he clutched his satchel to his side as they were buffeted by the crowd. Ahead, Marcus could see Cato. Fear momentarily flickered across his face. But then he stopped, drew himself up and glared scornfully at the band of men. Bibulus and the others stumbled to a halt.
‘Down with Cato!’ Festus bellowed. ‘Down with Bibulus!’
Caesar’s men closed in on the senators and jostled them. The lictors assigned to protect Bibulus rushed forward to break up the struggle.
‘Now!’ Festus called out.
Marcus saw the man he had been speaking to press forward with a large bucket in his hands. He pushed his way through until he was standing beside Bibulus and then tipped the contents over the consul’s head. A lumpy slurry of sewage poured over him, covering his face and streaking down his white toga. The air was filled with a foul stench and the crowd around Bibulus sprang back.
Festus and his men roared with laughter as they retreated and so did the crowd in the Forum as they caught sight of the hapless consul. Even Lupus had forgotten his fear and was grinning as they watched Bibulus stand in numbed shock before attempting to wipe the excrement from his eyes.
‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ Caesar called out as he made his way down the stairs. ‘You seem to be up to your neck in something unmentionable, my dear fellow.’
Bibulus turned towards him, thrusting out his finger. ‘This is monstrous! This is an outrage! And you are behind it, tyrant!’
‘Me?’ Caesar touched his chest and did his best to look innocent. ‘I would never even think of doing anything so dishonourable to one of Rome’s most outstanding figures, and your figure is certainly outstanding.’ Caesar nodded at Bibulus’s huge belly.
The senators at his back joined in the laughter of the crowd. Burning with rage at his humiliation, Bibulus stormed down the stairs, accompanied by Cato and the others. The crowd scurried out of their way and jeered as they passed through the Forum.
‘That’s that then.’ Caesar nodded with satisfaction as he exchanged smiles with Pompeius, Crassus and their friends.
Marcus had enjoyed the humiliating spectacle as much as the rest of Caesar’s men, but his smile froze on his lips as his gaze fixed on one of the men standing close to Crassus - a tall, bald man with a thin face. He was smiling widely as he offered his congratulations to Caesar. Marcus recognized him at once, even though they had met only briefly on a single occasion. His heart filled with icy hatred and he tightened his grip on the handle of the club.
As Caesar turned his attention to another of his supporters the man stepped back and glanced round the crowd. His eyes passed over Marcus and then he looked away again, his attention drawn by something Crassus was saying.
Marcus continued to stare at him, his body rigid with tension as he recalled their last meeting. When he and his mother stood in a slave pen in a small Greek town, the night before they were due to be auctioned, this man had come to gloat over their miserable fate. That same man, the tax collector Decimus, was the cause of all their suffering. A short distance behind him stood another familiar face, and Marcus caught his breath. Thermon. The man who had killed Titus.
5
Marcus hardly slept that night, but lay on his bedroll staring up at a thin shaft of moonlight shining through the slit window high up on the wall. Lupus was lying on his back, snoring. The other boy, Corvus, lay curled up under his worn blanket, muttering to himself as he dreamed.
So far they had exchanged only a few words about their backgrounds. Returning from the Forum, Lupus had told Marcus that he’d been born into Caesar’s household and been a slave his entire life. And he’d heard from Corvus how he’d been sold as an infant to a gladiator trainer by his poverty-stricken parents. But the trainer’s hopes of teaching Corvus disappeared when the boy broke his leg and was left with a limp. The lanista duly sold him to a slave dealer who had brought the boy to Rome, where he’d been bought as a kitchen slave by Flaccus.
Marcus’s thoughts turned away from them. Since seeing Decimus and Thermon outside the Senate House, his mind had been in turmoil. For a while, his original plan to appeal to Pompeius for help were replaced by a burning desire for revenge with far-fetched plans to track down and kill Decimus.
Gradually his rage faded and Marcus began to think about the implications of the tax collector’s presence in Rome. If he was a supporter of Crassus, who in turn was an ally of Caesar and General Pompeius, then the situation was more complicated than before. How could Marcus appeal to Pompeius for help in freeing his mother and bringing Decimus to justice for kidnapping them, if the tax collector was a close associate of Pompeius’s key ally? Pompeius would never side with Marcus against a man as powerful as Crassus.
Even while he felt despair at this new turn of events, Marcus realized it also gave him an opportunity to discover where his mother was held. If he knew the location of Decimus’s farming estates in Greece, he might find out where his mother had been sent. Then he was struck by the cold reality of his situation. Marcus was only a slave. How did it help to know where she was if he couldn’t free her? And Pompeius clearly had more important matters to think about - why should he help Marcus?
The confrontation at the Senate House had shown Marcus how divided the powerful families of Rome were. From all he’d heard and seen today, the Senate was riven by politicians jostling for power and the affection of the mob. What struck Marcus most was the way Caesar had abused his power, deliberately offending his opponents. Clearly, he enjoyed taking risks. Although Marcus understood little of Roman politics, it seemed to him that such men were a danger to themselves, and to those who followed them.
Gladiator: Street fighter Page 4
