421 Quaestors raised to 4, office opened to plebeians.
396 Introduction of pay for Rome’s soldiers. It was not increased until Caesar
doubled it when dictator.
390 Gauls sacked Rome, Capitol saved by warning of geese.
367 The consulship restored. 2 curule aediles created.
366 First plebeian consul. Praetor urbanus created.
356 First plebeian dictator. Censorship opened to plebeians.
351 First plebeian censor.
343—341 First Samnite War. Rome concludes peace.
342 Leges Genuciae: (a) debt relief, (b) no man to hold same office more than once
in 10 years, (c) both consuls could be plebeian.
339 Leges Publiliae: (a) one censor had to be plebeian, (b) all laws passed in
Centuriate Assembly had to be sanctioned by Senate, (c) plebiscites were given some validity at law.
337 First plebeian praetor urbanus.
326—304 Second Samnite War (defeat at Caudine Forks, the yoke).
300 Leges Ogulniae: opened priestly colleges to plebeians.
298—290 Third Samnite War. Rome now established ascendancy.
289 Mint and tresviri monetales (3 minters) created.
287 lex Hortensia: plebiscites were now fully binding laws.
267 Quaestors raised from 6 to 8.
264 First gladiators fight in Rome (not at Circus!).
264—242 First Punic War (against Carthage). Peace gives Rome Sicily, Sardinia and Corsica as her first provinces.
253 First plebeian Pontifex Maximus.
242 Praetor peregrinus created, raising praetors to 2.
241 Centuriate Assembly reforms slightly decreased power of First Class. Last
2 tribes were created: total now 35.
227 Praetors raised from 2 to 4. Quaestors raised from 6 to 10.
218—201 Second Punic War. Hannibal in command of Carthaginians.
270—206 Scipio Africanus victorious in Spain.
202 Last old—style dictator was briefly in office.
197 The Spains became provinces: praetors 6, quaestors 12.
180 Lex Villia annalis regulated the curule magistracies.
171 First treason court set up temporarily.
169 Lex Voconia barred women from major inheritances in wills. Quarrel between Senate and Knights: the censors refused to accept tenders from firms given contracts by previous censors. Profits were exorbitant. Censors were then nearly convicted of high treason by knights.
149 Lex Atinia automatically promoted tribunes of the plebs to the Senate. Lex
Calpurnia set up permanent extortion court.
149—146 Third Punic War. Africa became a Roman province.
147 Macedonia annexed as a Roman province.
144 Praetor Q. Martius Rex built Rome’s first aqueduct.
139 Lex Gabinia introduced secret ballot at all elections.
137 Lex Cassia introduced secret ballot for court juries.
133 Tiberius Gracchus tribune of the plebs: murdered.
123 Gaius Gracchus tribune of the plebs.
122 Gaius Gracchus tribune of the plebs again.
121 Senate passed first—ever Ultimate Decree to deal with Gaius Gracchus: he
suicided, his followers were executed.
121 King Mithridates V of Pontus murdered by his wife. Young Mithridates
fled to mountains to hide.
120 Homelands of German Cimbri and Teutones inundated. The great
migration began.
129 Gaius Marius, tribune of the plebs, passed a lex Maria to narrow voting
gangways (making bribery more difficult).
125 Young Mithridates seized power, became King of Pontus.
113 The German Cimbri defeated Papirius Carbo in Noricum.
122 Rome declared war on Jugurtha of Numidia.
121 Rome reached peaceful agreement with Jugurtha.
110 Aulus Postumius Albinus invaded Numidia without any authorization: the war against Jugurtha begins....
First published in the UK in 1993 by Century
This ebook edition first published in the UK in 2013 by Head of Zeus Ltd
Copyright © Colleen McCullough, 1993
The moral right of Colleen McCullough to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
9 7 5 3 1 2 4 6 8
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN (E) 9781781857939
Head of Zeus Ltd
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Contents
Cover
Welcome Page
Dedication
Maps and Illustrations
Maps
Illustrations
Synopses
Events Chronicled in the First Man in Rome
Events Chronicled in the Grass Crown
A Chronicle of Events between 86 B.C. and 83 B.C.
Part I
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Part II
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Part III
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Part IV
Chapter 1
Part V
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Part VI
Chapter 1
Part VII
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Part VIII
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Author’s Afterword
Glossary
Pronunciation Guide to Roman Masculine Names
Pronunciation Guide to Other Names and Terms
Some Events in the History of Rome Prior to The First Man in Rome
Copyright
Rome, 68 BC
Caesar has returned to Rome. Having cut his teeth campaigning in the East, his sites are now set on a new battlefield: the Forum Romanum. This war will be waged with rhetoric and seduction, weapons Caesar will wield with cunning and ruthlessness. Cuckolding political enemies is but a tactic in a broader strategy: Caesar knows that the key to Rome lies with its noblewomen. Whether the powerful, vindictive Servilia, whose son Brutus deeply resents his mother’s passionate and destructive relationship with Caesar, or his own daughter Julia, Caesar is prepared to sacrifice them all on the altar of his own ambition. Caesar’s women will make his name, and one of them will seal his fate.
Table of Contents
For Selwa Anthony Dennis
Wisewoman, witch, warm and wonderful
MAPS AND ILLUSTRATIONS
Maps
Italia: Topography & Roads
Forum Romanum
Pompey’s Dispositions against the Pirates
The East
Domus Publica
Illustrations
Gaius Julius Caesar
Servilia
Young Brutus
Publius Clodius
Quintus Lutatius Catulus
Marcus Calpurnius Biblius
Marcus Porcius Cato
Marcus Tullius Cicero
Terentia
Pompeia Sulla
Aurelia
Pompey the Great
Julia
Aurelia’s Insula
Roman Magistrates
Shape of Toga
I
from JUNE of 68 B.C.
until MARCH of 66 B.C.
1
“Brutus, I don’t like the look of your skin. Come here to the light, please.”
The fifteen-year-old made no sign that he had heard, simply remained hunched over a single sheet of Fannian paper with his reed pen, its ink long since dried, poised in midair.
“Come here, Brutus. At once,” said his mother placidly.
He knew her, so down went the pen; though he wasn’t mortally afraid of her, he wasn’t about to court her displeasure. One summons might be safely ignored, but a second summons meant she expected to be obeyed, even by him. Rising, he walked across to where Servilia stood by the window, its shutters wide because Rome was sweltering in an unseasonably early heatwave.
Though she was short and Brutus had recently begun to grow into what she hoped was going to be tallness, his head was not very far above hers; she put up one hand to clutch his chin, and peered closely at several angry red lumps welling under the skin around his mouth. Her hand released him, moved to push the loose dark curls away from his brow: more eruptions!
“How I wish you’d keep your hair cut!” she said, tugging at a lock which threatened to obscure his sight—and tugging hard enough to make his eyes water.
“Mama, short hair is unintellectual,” he protested.
“Short hair is practical. It stays off your face and doesn’t irritate your skin. Oh, Brutus, what a trial you’re becoming!”
“If you wanted a crop-skulled warrior son, Mama, you should have had more boys with Silanus instead of a couple of girls.”
“One son is affordable. Two sons stretch the money further than it wants to go. Besides, if I’d given Silanus a son, you wouldn’t be his heir as well as your father’s.” She strode across to the desk where he had been working and stirred the various scrolls upon it with impatient fingers. “Look at this mess! No wonder your shoulders are round and you’re swaybacked. Get out onto the Campus Martius with Cassius and the other boys from school, don’t waste your time trying to condense the whole of Thucydides onto one sheet of paper.”
“I happen to write the best epitomes in Rome,” said her son, his tone lofty.
Servilia eyed him ironically. “Thucydides,” she said, “was no profligate with words, yet it took him many books to tell the story of the conflict between Athens and Sparta. What advantage is there in destroying his beautiful Greek so that lazy Romans can crib a bare outline, then congratulate themselves that they know all about the Peloponnesian War?’’
“Literature,” Brutus persevered, “is becoming too vast for any man to encompass without resorting to summaries.”
“Your skin is breaking down,” said Servilia, returning to what really interested her.
“That’s common enough in boys my age.”
“But not in my plans for you.”
“And may the Gods help anyone or anything not in your plans for me!” he shouted, suddenly angry.
“Get dressed, we’re going out” was all she answered, and left the room.
When he entered the atrium of Silanus’s commodious house, Brutus was wearing the purple-bordered toga of childhood, for he would not officially become a man until December and the feast of Juventas arrived. His mother was already waiting, and watched him critically as he came toward her.
Yes, he definitely was round-shouldered, sway-backed. Such a lovely little boy he had been! Lovely even last January, when she had commissioned a bust of him from Antenor, the best portrait sculptor in all Italia. But now puberty was asserting itself more aggressively, his early beauty was fading, even to her prejudiced gaze. His eyes were still large and dark and dreamy, interestingly heavy-lidded, but his nose wasn’t growing into the imposing Roman edifice she had hoped for, remaining stubbornly short and bulb-tipped like her own. And the skin which had been so exquisitely olive-colored, smooth and flawless, now filled her with dread—what if he was going to be one of the horribly unlucky ones and produced such noxious pustules that he scarred? Fifteen was too soon! Fifteen meant a protracted infestation. Pimples! How disgusting and mundane. Well, beginning tomorrow she would make enquiries among the physicians and herbalists—and whether he liked it or not, he was going to the Campus Martius every day for proper exercise and tutoring in the martial skills he would need when he turned seventeen and had to enrol in Rome’s legions. As a contubernalis, of course, not as a mere ranker soldier; he would be a cadet on the personal staff of some consular commander who would ask for him by name. His birth and status assured it.
The steward let them out into the narrow Palatine street; Servilia turned toward the Forum and began to walk briskly, her son hurrying to keep up.
“Where are we going?” he asked, still chafing because she had dragged him away from epitomizing Thucydides.
“To Aurelia’s.”
Had his mind not been wrestling with the problem of how to pack a mine of information into a single sentence—and had the day been more clement—his heart would have leaped joyously; instead he groaned. “Oh, not up into the slums today!”
“Yes.”
“It’s such a long way, and such a dismal address!”
“The address may be dismal, my son, but the lady herself is impeccably connected. Everyone will be there.” She paused, her eyes sliding slyly sideways. “Everyone, Brutus, everyone.”
To which he answered not a word.
Her progress rendered easier by two ushering slaves, Servilia clattered down the Kingmakers’ Steps into the pandemonium of the Forum Romanum, where all the world adored to gather, listen, watch, wander, rub shoulders with the Mighty. Neither Senate nor one of the Assemblies was meeting today and the courts were on a short vacation, but some of the Mighty were out and about nonetheless, distinguished by the bobbing red-thonged bundles of rods their lictors carried shoulder-high to proclaim their imperium.
“It’s so hilly, Mama! Can’t you slow down?” panted Brutus as his mother marched up the Clivus Orbius on the far side of the Forum; he was sweating profusely.
“If you exercised more, you wouldn’t need to complain,” said Servilia, unimpressed.
Nauseating smells of foetor and decay assailed Brutus’s nostrils as the towering tenements of the Subura pressed in and shut out the light of the sun; peeling walls oozed slime, the gutters guided dark and syrupy trickles into gratings, tiny unlit caverns that were shops passed by unnumbered. At least the dank shade made it cooler, but this was a side of Rome young Brutus could happily have done without, “everyone” notwithstanding.
Eventually they arrived outside a quite presentable door of seasoned oak, well carved into panels and owning a brightly polished orichalcum knocker in the form of a lion’s head with gaping jaws. One of Servilia’s attendants plied it vigorously, and the door opened at once. There stood an elderly, rather plump Greek freedman, bowing deeply as he let them in.
It was a gathering of women, of course; had Brutus only been old enough to put on his plain white toga virilis, graduate into the ranks of men, he would not have been allowed to accompany his mother. That thought provoked panic—Mama must succeed in her petition, he must be able to continue to see his darling love after December and manhood! But betraying none of this, he abandoned Servilia’s skirts the moment the gushing greetings began and slunk off into a quiet corner of the squeal-filled room, there to do his best to blend into the unpretentious decor.
“Brutus, ave,” said a light yet husky voice.
He turned his head, looked down, felt his chest cave in. “Ave, Julia.”
“Here, sit with me,” the daughter of the house commanded, leading him to a pair of small chairs right in the corner. She settled in one while he lowered himself awkwardly into the other, herself as graceful and composed as a nesting swan.
Only eight years old—how could she already be so beautiful? wondered the dazzled Bru
tus, who knew her well because his mother was a great friend of her grandmother’s. Fair like ice and snow, chin pointed, cheekbones arched, faintly pink lips as delicious as a strawberry, a pair of widely opened blue eyes that gazed with gentle liveliness on all that they beheld; if Brutus had dipped into the poetry of love, it was because of her whom he had loved for—oh, years! Not truly understanding that it was love until quite recently, when she had turned her gaze on him with such a sweet smile that realization had dawned with the shock of a thunderclap.
He had gone to his mother that very evening, and informed her that he wished to marry Julia when she grew up.
Servilia had stared, astonished. “My dear Brutus, she’s a mere child! You’d have to wait nine or ten years for her.”
“She’ll be betrothed long before she’s old enough to marry,” he had answered, his anguish plain. “Please, Mama, as soon as her father returns home, petition for her hand in marriage!”
“You may well change your mind.”
“Never, never!”
“Her dowry is minute.”
“But her birth is everything you could want in my wife.”
“True.” The black eyes which could grow so hard rested on his face not unsympathetically; Servilia appreciated the strength of that argument. So she had turned it over in her mind for a moment, then nodded. “Very well, Brutus, when her father is next in Rome, I’ll ask. You don’t need a rich bride, but it is essential that her birth match your own, and a Julia would be ideal. Especially this Julia. Patrician on both sides.”
And so they had left it to wait until Julia’s father returned from his post as quaestor in Further Spain. The most junior of the important magistracies, quaestor. But trust Servilia to know that Julia’s father had filled it extremely well. Odd that she had never met him, considering how small a group the true aristocrats of Rome were. She was one; he was another. But, feminine rumor had it, he was something of an outsider among his own kind, too busy for the social round most of his peers cultivated whenever they were in Rome. It would have been easier to sue for his daughter’s hand on Brutus’s behalf did she know him already, though she had little doubt what his answer would be. Brutus was highly eligible, even in the eyes of a Julian.
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