The House was absolutely hushed, every face turned to see the priest of Jupiter, so well known as an honest— almost naive—man, that what he said had to be taken very seriously.
“Now Cinna,” the flamen Dialis went on, “does not mean blackbird. But it does mean ashes, and that is what I reduced the dead bird’s head and the bodies of its six children to—ashes. I burned them in accordance with the ritual of purification. Amateur interpreter though I am, to me at this moment the omen uncannily resembles a personification of Lucius Cornelius Cinna and his six tribunes of the plebs. They have defiled the Great God of Rome, who stands in much danger because of them. The blood means that more strife and public turmoil will ensue because of the consul Lucius Cinna and those six tribunes of the plebs. I am in no doubt of it.”
The House began to buzz, thinking Merula was finished, but quietened when he began to speak again.
“One more thing, Conscript Fathers. While I stood in the temple waiting for the Pontifex Maximus, I looked up for consolation into the smiling face of the Great God’s statue. And it was frowning!” He shuddered, white-faced.
“I fled into the open air, I could not bring myself to continue to wait within.”
Everyone shuddered. The buzzing began again.
Gnaeus Octavius Ruso rose to his feet, looking to the Brothers Caesar and Scaevola Pontifex Maximus much as the cat must have looked after it devoured the merula in the temple. “I think, members of this House, that we must repair outside to the Forum, and from the rostra tell everyone what has happened. And ask for opinions. After which, the House will sit again.”
So the tale of Merula’s phenomenon in the temple and Culleolus’s prophecy were told from the rostra; those who had gathered to hear looked awed and afraid, especially after Merula gave his interpretation and Octavius announced that he would seek the dismissal of Cinna and the six tribunes of the plebs. Not one man present objected.
In the House again shortly afterward, Gnaeus Octavius Ruso repeated his opinion that Cinna and the tribunes of the plebs must go.
Then Scaevola Pontifex Maximus rose to speak. “Princeps Senatus, Gnaeus Octavius, Conscript Fathers. As all of you are aware, I am one of the greatest ever exponents of the Roman constitution and the laws which compose it. In my opinion, there is no legal way to dismiss a consul from office before his term is ended. However, it may be that approximately the same effect can be achieved religiously. We cannot doubt that Jupiter Optimus Maximus has indicated his concern in two separate ways—through the medium of his own flamen, and through the medium of an old man whom we all know to be a worthy seer. In consideration of these two almost concurrent events, I suggest that the consul Lucius Cornelius Cinna be pronounced nefas. This does not strip him of his office as consul, but— as it renders him religiously odious—it disbars him from carrying out his duties as consul. The same is true of the tribunes of the plebs.”
Octavius was scowling now, but knew better than to interrupt; it seemed Scaevola was going to work something out. Something, however, which made it impossible to secure a death sentence for Cinna—this being Octavius’s aim. Cinna must be put out of action!
“It was the flamen Dialis who witnessed the events in the temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus. He is also the Great God’s personal priest, and his office is so old it pre-dates the Kings. He can conduct no wars, nor come into the presence of death, nor touch the substance from which weapons of war are made. Therefore I suggest that we appoint Lucius Cornelius Merula the flamen Dialis a suffect consul—not to take Lucius Cinna’s place, but rather to caretake that place. In this way, the senior consul Gnaeus Octavius will not be governing as a consul without a colleague. Except during the war against the Italians, when circumstances prevented proper consular practices, no man can be allowed to be consul without a colleague.”
Deciding to put a good face on it, Octavius nodded. “I agree to that, Quintus Mucius. Let the flamen Dialis sit in the curule chair of Lucius Cinna as its custodian! I will now see the House divide upon two intimately connected issues. Those in favor of recommending to the Centuriate Assembly that—number one, the consul Lucius Cinna and the six tribunes of the plebs be declared nefas and banished from Rome and all Roman lands—and, number two, that the flamen Dialis be appointed consul in custody, please stand to my right. Those opposed, please stand to my left. Now divide, please.”
The House passed its dual recommendation without a single negative vote, and a Centuriate Assembly consisting almost solely of senators met on the Aventine outside the pomerium but inside the walls—no one could bear to meet on the blood-soaked ground of the saepta. The measures were passed into law.
The senior consul Octavius pronounced himself satisfied, and the business of governing Rome proceeded without Cinna. But Gnaeus Octavius did nothing to shore up his position, nor to protect Rome from the officially sacrilegious fugitives. He gathered no legions, he did not write to his master, Pompey Strabo. The truth of the matter was that Octavius blindly assumed Cinna and his six tribunes of the plebs would flee as quickly as possible to join Gaius Marius and eighteen other fugitives on the African island of Cercina.
3
Cinna, however, had no intention of leaving Italy. Nor did his six tribunes of the plebs. After they fled from the slaughter on the Campus Martius, they gathered money and a few belongings and then met at the milestone on the Via Appia just outside Bovillae. Here they decided what to do.
“I’ll take Quintus Sertorius and Marcus Gratidianus to Nola with me,” said Cinna briskly. “There’s a legion under arms at Nola, suffering a commander the men detest in Appius Claudius Pulcher. I intend to remove that legion from Appius Claudius and take my example from my namesake Sulla—I shall lead it on Rome. But not before we have gathered many more adherents. Vergilius, Milonius, Arvina, Magius, I want you to journey among the Italians and drum up support wherever you can. You will tell everybody the same thing—that the Senate of Rome has ejected its legally elected consul because he tried to get the new citizens properly distributed across the tribes, and because Gnaeus Octavius has massacred thousands of decent, law-abiding Roman men gathered at a legally convoked assembly.” He found a wry smile. “It’s as well we’ve been so heavily at war within the peninsula! Cornutus and I took thousands of sets of arms and armor off the Marsi and the rest. They’re stored in Alba Fucentia. Milonius, you will get them and distribute them. After I take the legion off Appius Claudius, I’ll pillage the warehouses in Capua.”
Thus four of the tribunes of the plebs popped up in places like Praeneste, Tibur, Reate, Corfinium, Venafrum, Interamnia, and Sora, pleading for a hearing—and granted it gladly. The war-weary Italians even gave every coin they could possibly spare to this new campaign. Slowly the forces grew, slowly the net around Rome closed.
Cinna himself had no difficulty in causing the defection of Appius Claudius Pulcher’s legion sitting outside Nola. A dour and aloof man who still secretly grieved over the death of his wife and the fate of his six motherless children, Appius Claudius yielded up his command without attempting to woo his soldiers back. He climbed upon his horse and rode to join Metellus Pius at Aesernia.
It had been a stroke of great good fortune to bring Quintus Sertorius with him, Cinna realized after he reached Nola. A born Military Man, Sertorius had a reputation among ranker soldiers that went back almost twenty years; he had won the Grass Crown in Spain, a dozen lesser crowns in campaigns against Numidians and Germans, he was the cousin of Gaius Marius, and this legion had been recruited by him in Italian Gaul three years before. Its men knew him well, and loved him dearly. They did not love Appius Claudius.
Cinna, Sertorius, Marcus Marius Gratidianus and the legion set off for Rome. The moment they did, Nola threw open its gates and a host of heavily armed Samnites pursued them up the Via Popillia—not to attack them, but to join them. And then when they reached the junction of this road with the Via Appia at Capua, every raw recruit, gladiator and drill centurion also flocked to their e
agle. The army of Cinna now numbered twenty thousand. And between Capua and the little town of Labicum on the Via Latina, the four tribunes of the plebs who had gone elsewhere met up with Cinna, and gave him another ten thousand useful men.
It was now October, and Rome was only scant miles away. Cinna’s agents reported to him that the city was in a panic—that Octavius had written to Pompey Strabo beseeching him to come to the aid of his country—and that, wonder of wonders, none other than Gaius Marius had landed on the Etrurian coast at the township of Telamon, adjacent to his own vast estates. This last item of news threw Cinna into transports of delight, especially when his agents followed it up with the intelligence that men from Etruria and Umbria were flocking to join Marius, who was marching down the Via Aurelia Vetus in the direction of Rome.
“This is the best news!” Cinna said to Quintus Sertorius. “Now Gaius Marius is back in Italy, this business will be over in a matter of days. Since you know him better than the rest of us do, find him and inform him of our dispositions. Discover what his own plans are too. Is he going to take Ostia or bypass it in favor of Rome? Make sure you tell him that if I can, I would rather keep our armies—and any hostilities!—on the Vatican side of the river. I hate the thought of bringing troops anywhere near the pomerium, and I have no wish to end in emulating Lucius Sulla. Find him, Quintus Sertorius, and tell him how glad I am that he’s in Italy again!” Cinna thought of something else. “Tell him too that I’ll send every spare item of armor I have to him before he reaches Ostia.”
Sertorius located Marius near the little township of Fregenae, some miles north of Ostia; if his cross-country ride to Fregenae had been fast, his cross-country gallop back to Cinna at Labicum was at record pace. He erupted into the small house where Cinna had set up a temporary headquarters, and launched into speech before the astonished Cinna could open his mouth.
“Lucius Cinna, I beg of you, write to Gaius Marius and order him to disband his men or transfer them to your service!” Sertorius said, face drawn and set. “Order him to behave like the privatus he is—order him to disband his army—order him to return to his estates and wait like any privatus until the issue is decided.”
“What on earth is the matter with you?” asked Cinna, hardly able to believe his ears. “How can you of all people say such things? Gaius Marius is essential for our cause! If he stands in our forefront, we can’t lose.”
“Lucius Cinna, it is Marius can’t lose!” cried Sertorius. “I tell you straight—if you allow Gaius Marius to participate in this struggle, you will rue the day. For it won’t be Lucius Cinna victorious and placed at the head of Rome’s government—it will be Gaius Marius! I have just seen him, I have just spoken to him. He is old, he is bitter, and his mind has given way. Order him to go to his estates as a privatus, please!”
“What do you mean, his mind has given way?”
“Just that. He’s mad.”
“Well, that’s not what my agents who are with him are saying, Quintus Sertorius. According to them, he’s as superbly organized as he ever was, he’s marching toward Ostia with a good sound plan in his head—why do you say his mind has given way? Is he gibbering? Is he ranting and raving? My agents are not as privy to him as you are, but they would surely have seen signs,” said Cinna with obvious skepticism.
“He’s not gibbering. He’s not ranting and raving. Nor has he forgotten how to control or maneuver an army. But I have known Gaius Marius since I was seventeen years old, and I tell you in all sincerity, this is not the Gaius Marius I know! He’s old and he’s bitter. Thirsting for revenge. Quite obsessed with himself and his prophesied destiny. You cannot trust him, Lucius Cinna! He will end in taking Rome away from you and running it to suit his own purposes.” Sertorius drew a breath, tried again. “Young Marius sends the same message to you, Lucius Cinna. Don’t give his father any kind of authority! He’s mad.”
“I think you’re both overreacting,” said Cinna.
“I am not. Young Marius is not.”
Cinna shook his head, drew a sheet of paper toward him. “Look, Quintus Sertorius, I need Gaius Marius! If he’s as old and mentally disturbed as you say he is, then how can he be a threat to me—or to Rome? I shall confer a proconsular imperium upon him—I can have the Senate ratify it later—and use him to cover me on the west.”
“You’ll rue the day!”
“Nonsense,” said Cinna, beginning to write.
Sertorius stood looking at his bent head for a moment, clawed at the air with his hands, then left the house.
*
Having received Marius’s assurances that he would take care of Ostia and come up the Tiber on the Campus Vaticanus bank, Cinna split his own forces into three divisions of ten thousand men each, and marched from Labicum.
The first division—ordered to occupy the Vatican Plain— was under the command of Gnaeus Papirius Carbo, cousin of the tribune of the plebs Carbo Arvina, and victor over Lucania; the second division—ordered to occupy the Campus Martius (it was the only section of Cinna’s army on the city side of the river)—was under the command of Quintus Sertorius; and the third division—commanded by Cinna himself—sat itself down on the northern flank of the Janiculan hill. When Marius arrived, he was to come up on the south side of the Janiculum.
However, there was an impediment. The middle section and the heights of the Janiculum had always been a Roman garrison, and Gnaeus Octavius had retained sufficient sense to gather what volunteers he could inside the city and send them to occupy and strengthen the Janiculan fortress. So between Cinna’s army (which had crossed the river on the Mulvian Bridge) and whatever force Marius would bring from the direction of Ostia lay this formidable stronghold, filled with several thousand defenders, and extremely well fortified thanks to a program of repairs at the time the Germans had seemed likely to overrun Italy.
As if the presence of an impregnable garrison on the far side of the Tiber was not enough, Pompey Strabo unexpectedly arrived with his four legions of Picentine soldiers and took up a position just outside the Colline Gate. Save for the legion from Nola (which had gone to Sertorius), Pompey Strabo’s army was the only fully trained one on the field, and therefore represented a major focus of power. Only the Pincian hill with its gardens and orchards separated Pompey Strabo from Sertorius.
For sixteen days Cinna sat behind the entrenched palisades of three separate camps waiting for Pompey Strabo to attack; he had automatically assumed Pompey Strabo would make his move before Gaius Marius arrived. Quintus Sertorius, who would bear the initial shock, had dug himself in deeply on the Campus Martius. But no one moved. Nothing whatsoever happened.
In the meantime, Marius had encountered no resistance. At the instigation of its quaestor, Ostia opened its gates the moment Marius and his army came into sight, wild with joy and ready to welcome its hero with open arms. But its hero behaved with brutal indifference and allowed his army—largely composed of slaves and ex-slaves, one of the factors most perturbing to Sertorius when he had visited his old commander—to sack the town, which suffered terribly. As if blind and deaf, Marius made no attempt to curtail the insanities and atrocities of his motley troops; he bent his attention and his energies upon throwing a barrage across the mouth of the Tiber, effectively preventing the grain barges from going upriver to supply Rome. Even when he prepared to march up the Via Campana toward the city, he did nothing to succor Ostia’s distress.
It had been a dry year in central Italy, and the snows of the previous winter atop the Apennines had been unusually scanty. So the Tiber was running low, and many of the little streams which fed its course dried up long before summer was over. The end of October in that year was actually the border between summer and autumn, so the weather was still very hot when all these small armies put themselves down in a three-quarters circle around the city of Rome. The African and Sicilian harvests were in, but the ships bringing the wheat were just beginning to arrive in Ostia; Rome’s granaries were at their lowest.
Dis
ease broke out not long after Pompey Strabo arrived at the Colline Gate, and spread quickly among the men of his legions as well as within the city itself. The various enteric fevers made their dreaded appearances, for the waters Pompey Strabo’s soldiers were drinking were fouled by the same kind of careless sanitary arrangements Quintus Pompeius Rufus had noticed in the camp at Ariminum. When the springs inside the city on the Viminal and Quirinal became contaminated, some of the people from the area went to see Pompey Strabo and begged him to deal with his cesspits properly; Pompey Strabo being Pompey Strabo sent them away with a series of crude remarks about what they might like to do with their own excrements. To make matters worse, from the Mulvian Bridge well above the Trigarium all the way to the sea the Tiber stank of human ordure and was unfit for any purpose save to spread disease; Cinna’s three camps as well as the city were now using the Tiber as a sewer outflow.
Gnaeus Octavius and his custodial consular colleague Merula flamen Dialis saw October slip into the past without any change in the dispositions of the armies, and despaired. Whenever they managed to gain an audience with Pompey Strabo, he had some reason why he couldn’t fight; Octavius and Merula were eventually forced to come to the conclusion that the real reason was that he preferred to outnumber his opponent in a battle situation, whereas in fact Cinna outnumbered him.
When the city learned that Marius owned Ostia and there would be no grain barges coming up the river with the new harvest, gloom rather than a fresh panic ensued. The consuls saw into a terrible future, and wondered how long they could last if Pompey Strabo continued to refuse to engage the enemy.
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