“Then what we have to do is concentrate upon finding more money,” said Mutilus, and ground his teeth together. “By all our old Italian gods, Quintus Poppaedius, it would afford me and mine enormous satisfaction to stamp Rome and Romans out of existence!”
But the next day Mutilus was made to suffer the presence of a Roman, for Marcus Livius Drusus arrived in Bovianum, hot on the trail of Silo, and full of news.
“The Senate is busy drawing lots to empanel judges for these special courts right now,” said Drusus, uneasy because he was inside a chronic hotbed of insurrection like Bovianum, and hoping he had not been seen coming here.
“Do they really intend to enforce the provisions of the lex Licinia Mucia?” asked Silo, still hardly able to believe it.
“They do,” said Drusus grimly. “I’m here to tell you that you have about six market intervals to do what you can to cushion the blow. By seasonal summer the quaestiones will be in session, and every place where a quaestio sits will be plastered with posters advertising the joys and financial rewards of laying information. There’ll be many a nasty type raring to earn four or eight or twelve thousand sesterces—and some will make their fortunes, I predict. It’s a disgrace, I agree, but the Whole People—yes, patricians as well as plebeians!—passed that wretched law well-nigh unanimously.”
“Where will the closest court to me be situated?” asked Mutilus, his face ugly.
“Aesernia. In every case the regional quaestio will sit in a Roman or Latin Rights colony.”
“They wouldn’t be game to sit anywhere else.”
A silence fell. Neither Mutilus nor Silo said anything about war, which alarmed Drusus more than if they had talked of it openly. He knew he had intruded upon the hatching of many plots, but he was caught in a cleft stick; too loyal a Roman not to lodge information about any plots, he was too loyal a friend to Silo to want to learn about any plots. So he held his tongue and concentrated upon doing what he could without impugning his patriotism.
“What do you suggest we do?” asked Mutilus of Drusus.
“As I said, what you can to cushion the blow. Convince those living in Roman or Latin colonies or municipalities that they must flee immediately if they put their names down as Roman citizens without entitlement. They won’t want to move, but you must persuade them to move. If they stay, they’ll be flogged, fined, disbarred, and evicted,” said Drusus.
“They can’t do it!” cried Silo, hands clawing at nothing. “Marcus Livius, there are just too many of these so-called spurious citizens! Surely Rome has to see the sheer volume of enemies she’ll make if she enforces this law! It’s one thing to flog an Italian here and an Italian there, but to flog whole villages and towns of them? Insanity! The country won’t lie down under it, I swear it won’t!”
Drusus put his hands over his ears, shaking his head. “No, Quintus Poppaedius, don’t say it! I beg you, don’t say a word I could construe as treason! I am still a Roman! Truly, I am only here to help you as best I can. Don’t involve me in things I sincerely hope will never bear fruit, please! Get your false citizens out of any place where to stay will lead to discovery. And do it now, while they can at least salvage something of their investments in living among Romans or Latins. It doesn’t matter that everyone will know why they’re leaving as long as they go far enough away to make apprehension difficult. The armed militiamen will be too few and too busy guarding their judges to voyage far afield in search of culprits. One thing you can always rely on—the traditional reluctance of the Senate to spend money. In this situation, it’s your friend. Get your people out! And make sure the full Italian tributes are paid. Don’t let anyone refuse to pay because of a Roman citizenship that isn’t a true one.”
“It will be done,” said Mutilus, who as a Samnite knew how remorseless Roman vengeance could be. “We will bring our people home, and we will look after them.”
“Good,” said Drusus. “That alone will reduce the number of victims.” He fidgeted restlessly. “I cannot stay here, I must be off before noon and reach Casinum before nightfall—a more logical place to find a Livius Drusus than Bovianum. I have land at Casinum.”
“Then go, go!” said Silo nervously. “I wouldn’t have you charged with treason for all the world, Marcus Livius. You’ve been a genuine friend to us, and we appreciate it.”
“I’ll go in a moment,” said Drusus, finding it in him to smile. “First, I want your word that you will not seek recourse in war until there is absolutely no other alternative. I have not given up hope of a peaceful solution, and I now have some powerful allies in the Senate. Gaius Marius is back from abroad and my uncle Publius Rutilius Rufus is also working on your behalf. I swear to you that before too many years have gone by, I will seek office as a tribune of the plebs—and I will then force a general enfranchisement for the whole of Italy though the Plebeian Assembly. But it cannot be done now. We must first gain support for the idea within Rome and among our peers. Especially among the knights. The lex Licinia Mucia may well turn out to be more your friend than your enemy. We think that when its effects are seen, many Romans will shift their sympathy toward the Italian nationals. I am sorry that it will create heroes for your cause in the most painful and costly way— but heroes they will be, and eventually Romans will weep at their plight. So I vow it to you.”
Silo accompanied him to his horse, a fresh beast from the stables of Mutilus, and discovered he was quite unattended.
“Marcus Livius, it’s dangerous to ride alone!” said Silo.
“It’s more dangerous to bring someone with me, even a slave. People talk, and I can’t afford to give Caepio an opportunity to accuse me of being in Bovianum plotting treason,” said Drusus, accepting a leg up.
“Even though none of us leaders registered as citizens, I dare not venture into Rome,” said Silo, gazing up at his friend, head haloed from the sun.
“Definitely do not,” said Drusus, and grimaced. “For one thing, we have an informant in our house.”
“Jupiter! I hope you crucified him!”
“Unfortunately I must bear with this informant, Quintus Poppaedius. She’s my nine-year-old niece Servilia, who is Caepio’s daughter—and his creature.” Shadowed though his face was, it became discernibly red. “We discovered that she invaded your room during your last visit—which is why Caepio was able to name Gaius Papius as one of the innovators of mass registration, in case you wondered. You may tell him this news, so that he too will know how divided this issue makes all of us who live in Italy. Times have changed. It isn’t Samnium against Rome anymore, truly. What we have to achieve is a peaceful union of all the peoples of this peninsula. Otherwise Rome cannot advance any more than the Italian nations can.”
“Can’t you pack the brat off to her father?” Silo asked.
“He doesn’t want her at any price, even the betrayal of my house guests—though I think she thought he would,” said Drusus. “I have her muzzled and tethered, but there’s always the chance that she’ll slip her leash and get to him. So don’t come near Rome or my house. If you need to see me urgently, send a message to me and I’ll meet you in some out-of-the-way place.”
“Agreed.” Hand raised to slap Drusus’s horse on the flank, Silo stayed it for one last message. “Give my warmest regards to Livia Drusa, Marcus Porcius, and of course dear Servilia Caepionis.”
Pain washed over Drusus’s face just as Silo’s hand came down and the horse jolted into motion. “She died not long ago!” he called back over his shoulder. “Oh, I miss her!”
*
The quaestiones provided for by the lex Licinia Mucia were set up in Rome, Spoletium, Cosa, Firmum Picenum, Aesernia, Alba Fucentia, Capua, Rhegium, Luceria, Paestum, and Brundisium, with provision that as soon as those parts of each region had been scoured, the respective court would move to a fresh location. Only Latium ended in not having a court; the lands of the Marsi were felt to be more important, so to Alba Fucentia was the tenth place given.
But on the whole
, the Italian leaders who met at Grumentum seven days after Drusus visited Silo and Mutilus at Bovianum had succeeded in removing their spurious citizens from all those Roman and Latin colony towns. Of course there were some who refused to believe they would suffer, as well as some who perhaps did believe but were just too well entrenched to consider fleeing. And upon these men the full wrath of the quaestiones fell.
As well as its consular president and two other senators as judges, each court had a staff of clerks, twelve lictors (the president had been empowered with a proconsular imperium) and an armed mounted escort of a hundred militiamen culled from the ranks of retired cavalry troopers and those ex-gladiators who could ride well enough to turn a horse at the gallop.
The judges had been chosen by lots. Neither Gaius Marius nor Publius Rutilius Rufus drew a lot, no surprise—most likely their wooden marbles hadn’t even been put inside the closed jar of water—so how, when the jar was spun like a top, could their marbles possibly have popped out of the little side spout?
Quintus Lutatius Catulus Caesar drew Aesernia, and Gnaeus Domitius Ahenobarbus Pontifex Maximus drew Alba Fucentia; Scaurus Princeps Senatus wasn’t chosen but Gnaeus Cornelius Scipio Nasica was, drawing Brundisium, a location which didn’t please him in the least. Metellus Pius the Piglet and Quintus Servilius Caepio were among the junior judges, as was Drusus’s brother-in-law, Marcus Porcius Cato Salonianus. Drusus himself didn’t draw a lot, a result pleasing him profoundly, as he would have had to announce to the Senate that his conscience would not permit of his serving.
“Someone blundered,” said Marius to him afterward. “If they had the sense they were presumably born with, they would have ensured that you draw a lot, thus forcing you to declare your feelings very publicly. Not good for you in this present climate!”
“Then I’m glad they don’t have the sense they were presumably born with,” said Drusus thankfully.
Marcus Antonius Orator the censor had drawn the lot for the presidency of the quaestio inside the city of Rome. This delighted him, as he knew his transgressors would be more difficult to find than the mass registrants of the country, and he enjoyed conundrums. Also, he could look forward to earning millions of sesterces in fines thanks to the efforts of informers, already milling eagerly with long lists of names.
The catch varied considerably from place to place. Aesernia failed to please Catulus Caesar one little bit; the town was situated in the middle of Samnium, Mutilus had succeeded in persuading all but a handful of the guilty to leave, and the Roman citizen and Latin residents had no information to offer—nor could the Samnites be subverted into betraying their own for any amount of money. However, those who remained were summarily dealt with in an exemplary manner (at least according to Catulus Caesar’s lights), the President of the court having found a particularly brutal fellow among his escort to perform the floggings. The days were boring nonetheless, the procedure calling for the reading out of every citizen name new to the rolls; it took time to discover that each name when read off was no longer resident within Aesernia. Perhaps once every three or four days a name would produce a man, and these encounters Catulus Caesar looked forward to eagerly. Never lacking in courage, he ignored the rumbles of outrage, the boos and hisses with which he was greeted wherever he went, the furtive little sabotages which plagued not only him but his two more junior judges, the clerks and lictors, even the troopers of his escort. Girths snapped on saddles and riders went crashing to the ground, water had a habit of becoming mysteriously fouled, every insect and spider in Italy had seemingly been rounded up and put in their quarters, snakes slid out of chests and cupboards and bedclothes, little togate dolls all smeared with blood and feathers were found everywhere, as were dead cockerels and cats, and episodes of food poisoning became so rife the President of the court was obliged in the end to force-feed slaves some hours before every meal as well as putting guards to watch the food constantly.
Oddly enough, Gnaeus Domitius Ahenobarbus Pontifex Maximus in Alba Fucentia proved a heartening President; like Aesernia, most of the guilty were long gone, so it took the court six days of sessions to unearth its first victim. No one informed, but the man was well off enough to afford to pay his fine, and stood with head held high while Ahenobarbus Pontifex Maximus ordered the immediate confiscation of all his property within Alba Fucentia. The trooper deputed to administer the lash enjoyed his task too much; white-faced, the President of the court ordered the flogging stopped when blood began to spatter everyone within ten paces of the hapless victim. When the next culprit came to light, a different man plied the knout so delicately that the guilty back showed scarcely a laceration. Ahenobarbus Pontifex Maximus also found in himself an unsuspected distaste for informers, of whom there were not many, but who were—perhaps in consequence—particularly loathsome. There was nothing he could do save pay the reward, but he then would turn around and subject an informer to such a lengthy and unpleasant inquisition about his own citizen status that informers ceased to present themselves. On one occasion when the accused false citizen was revealed to have three deformed and retarded children, Ahenobarbus secretly paid the fine himself and firmly refused to allow the man to be ejected from the town, in which his poor children fared better than they would have in the country.
So whereas the Samnites spat contemptuously at the mere mention of Catulus Caesar, Ahenobarbus Pontifex Maximus grew to be quite well liked in Alba Fucentia, and the Marsi were treated more gently than the Samnites. As for the rest of the courts, some presidents were ruthless, some steered a middle course, and some emulated Ahenobarbus. But the hatred grew, and the victims of this persecution were enough in number to steel the Italian nationals in their determination to be rid of the Roman yoke if they died trying. Not one of the courts found itself with the backbone to send its militiamen into the rural fastnesses in search of those who had fled the towns.
The only judge who got himself into legal trouble was Quintus Servilius Caepio, who had been seconded to the court at Brundisium, under the presidency of Gnaeus Scipio Nasica. That sweltering and dusty seaport pleased Gnaeus Scipio Nasica so little after he actually arrived there that a minor illness (later discovered to be haemorrhoids, much to the mirth of the local people) caused him to scurry back to Rome for treatment. His quaestio he left under the aegis of Caepio as President, assisted by none other than Metellus Pius the Piglet. As in most places, the guilty had fled before the court went into session, and informers were scarce. The list of names was read out, the men could not be found, and the days went by fruitlessly—until an informer produced what seemed like ironclad evidence against one of Brundisium’s most respected Roman citizens. He was not of course a part of the concerted mass enrollment, the informer testifying that his illegal usurpation of the citizenship went back over twenty years. As industrious as a dog unearthing rotting meat, Caepio went about making an example of this man, even to the extent that he ordered his questioning under torture. When Metellus Pius grew afraid and protested, Caepio refused to listen, so sure was he that this ostensible pillar of the community was guilty. But then evidence was brought forward proving beyond any shadow of a doubt that the man was what he purported to be—a Roman citizen in high standing. And the moment he was vindicated, he sued Caepio. It took a hasty trip to Rome and an inspired speech by Crassus Orator to secure Caepio’s acquittal, but clearly he could not return to Brundisium. A snarling Gnaeus Scipio Nasica was obliged to go in his stead, mouthing imprecations against all Servilii Caepiones. As for Crassus Orator., obliged to undertake the defense of a man he disliked heartily, the fact that he won the case was scant comfort.
“There are times, Quintus Mucius,” he told his cousin and boon companion Scaevola, “that I wish anyone but us had been consuls in this hideous year!”
*
Publius Rutilius Rufus was writing these days to Lucius Cornelius Sulla in Nearer Spain, having received a missive from that news-starved senior legate begging for a regular diary of Roman events; Rutilius Ru
fus seized upon the invitation eagerly.
For I swear, Lucius Cornelius, that there is no one abroad among my friends to whom I can be bothered penning a single line. To be writing to you is wonderful, and I promise I will keep you well informed of the goings-on.
To start with, the special quaestiones of the most famous law in many years, the lex Licinia Mucia. So unpopular and perilous to those conducting them did they become by the end of this summer that not one person connected to them did not long for any excuse to wind their enquiries down. And then luckily an excuse popped up out of nowhere. The Salassi, the Brenni, and the Rhaeti began to raid Italian Gaul on the far side of the Padus River, and created some slight degree of havoc between Lake Benacus and the Vale of the Salassi — middle and western Italian Gaul-across-the-Padus, in other words. Quick as you can say Lucius Tiddlypuss, the Senate declared a state of emergency and wound down the legal operations against the illegal Italian citizens. All the special judges flocked back to Rome, intensely grateful for the respite. And — perhaps in retaliation — voted to send none other than poor Crassus Orator to Italian Gaul with an army to put down the rebellious tribes — or at least eject them from civilized parts. This Crassus Orator did most effectively in a campaign lasting less than two months.
Not many days ago Crassus Orator arrived back in Rome and put his army into camp on the Campus Martius because, he said, his troops had hailed him as imperator on the field, and he wanted to celebrate a triumph. Cousin Quintus Mucius Scaevola, left to govern Rome, received the encamped general’s petition and called a meeting of the Senate in the temple of Bellona immediately. But there was no discussion about the requested triumph!
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