“Then tomorrow you shall come and see for yourself. It’s a prominent location, quite spectacular-a spur of the Aventine that looms above the starting gates of the Circus Maximus. It’s in the Etruscan araeostyle, just like the Temple of Jupiter on the Capitoline. Not as large, but it will be quite grandly decorated. Vulca is no longer with us, alas, but we’ve employed the very best Etruscan sculptors for the terra-cotta statue of Ceres. To execute the frescoes and reliefs on the walls, we’ve brought in two Greek artists, Gorgasus and Damophilus. They’re almost done, and their work is amazing! And…” Titus realized that Gnaeus was not paying attention. He was staring into the middle distance with a distracted look.
Gnaeus noticed that Titus had stopped speaking, and flashed a wry smile. “You’re right, Titus. I care nothing about the temple’s architecture or its adornments. But I do care about the politics behind it.”
“Famine,” said Titus bluntly. “It was the famine three years ago that inspired the building of the temple. So many men were called to war that there was no one to sow the crops that year, and the fields that were sown were devastated by more warfare. Roma had insufficient stores in reserve, and people starved-the poorer people, anyway. My father also died that year-not directly from the famine, because our sort never went hungry, but from a fever; disease goes hand in hand with famine, and from a fever no man is safe. The Sibylline Books were consulted. It was decreed that a temple should be dedicated to Ceres. To prevent another famine, we would appeal to the goddess of the harvest. Sometimes the advice of the Sibylline verses actually makes sense!”
“Or was there another agenda?” said Gnaeus. His tone was suddenly grave. “Ceres is a favorite deity of the plebeians. Is it not true that the annual festival to commemorate her temple will be organized exclusively by plebeians, just as the annual festival to commemorate the Temple of Jupiter is organized by patricians?”
“Yes. Thus we’ll have a new plebeian festival to match the old patrician festival. What’s wrong with that?” asked Titus, with a sigh. He knew where Gnaeus’s argument was leading, for he had heard it before, from Appius Claudius; it was really quite amazing, how closely Gnaeus’s attitudes matched those of Titus’s father-in-law. Both men were endlessly suspicious of anything that might advance the political power of the plebeians. Claudius had maneuvered to have Titus oversee construction of the Temple of Ceres not because he approved of the project, but for reasons quite the opposite: “If it must be done, then better we put you in charge of the project, my boy, rather than some sycophant who wishes only to curry favor with the mob!”
Titus himself was largely apathetic about politics; if anything, he was sympathetic to the struggles of the plebs. His chief priorities were to determine the best design for any given project, to employ the best artists and artisans at the best prices, and to see the building progress from imagination to splendid reality.
Gnaeus shook his head. “If the plebeians continue to have their way, Titus, one morning you may wake up in a world you no longer recognize, where the lowest have usurped the highest, and the age-old prestige of a name like Potitius counts for nothing. Can you not see that the new plebeian festival indicates a dangerous shift in the balance of power? Since the birth of the republic, by this means and that, in small ways and large, the plebeian masses have ceaselessly conspired to wrest power from the patricians, always to the detriment of Roma’s security and prosperity.”
“Some would say they’ve merely been trying to wriggle out from under the patrician heel,” said Titus.
“They’ve refused to pay their debts, which is robbery! Some have refused military service, which is treason! And last year, they pulled the most outrageous stunt of all, their so-called ‘secession’ from the city. Thousands of them-men, women, and children-packed their things and left Roma altogether. They brought the city to a standstill, and refused to come back until their demands were met.”
“Were their demands unreasonable?”
“Of course they were! Appius Claudius fought like a lion to stop his fellow senators from capitulating, but they did. The plebs were granted their demands and that ended the secession. Now they’re allowed to elect their own magistrates. And what will these so-called aediles of the plebs do?”
“Their primary function is sacred-to guard the new Temple of Ceres.”
“And what will be kept in the temple? An archive of the Senate’s decrees. That was another of the plebs’ demands, that all the decrees of the Senate should be written down, so anyone who wishes may search them for discrepancies and scrutinize them for unfair treatment of the plebs.”
“Is it a bad thing, Gnaeus, that laws and proclamations should be written down? The kings ruled by spoken words. They could make promises with one breath and take them back with another. They could ruin a man’s life on a whim, then disclaim all responsibility. My grandfather, may Hercules bless him, taught me to respect the written word. That the laws should be duly and precisely recorded is not a bad thing.”
Gnaeus was unswayed. “Even worse than the aediles-much worse-are these other officers whom the plebeians can now elect, the so-called tribunes. From ancient times the people have been divided into tribes, so they call these representatives their tribunes-but I call them bullies and upstarts! Under the pretext of protecting common citizens from the alleged abuses of magistrates and senators, these tribunes of the plebs can summarily confiscate the property of anyone-anyone! — who they deem has threatened the physical well-being of a citizen. And where will the confiscated goods be deposited? In the Temple of Ceres, under guard of the aediles! And if any man should dare to threaten or in any way interfere with a tribune, that man can be exiled or even put to death!”
Titus sighed. “There have been abuses against the plebs. Once, in the year of the famine, I saw an old veteran being hounded by the hired ruffians of a senator. The veteran was crippled and in rags. He may have owed the senator money, but he clearly had no means to repay the debt, nor was he fit to work it off, no matter how much the ruffians shoved him about. The old man begged them for mercy. He finally tore off his tunic to show his battle scars-the wounds he had received fighting for Roma. If the tribunes had existed then, they could have put a stop to that shameful spectacle! And if the Temple of Ceres had existed, the veteran could have gone there for protection, because, among its other functions, it will serve as an asylum for the plebs.”
Gnaeus snorted. “I’ve heard that tired story about the abused veteran a hundred times before, and I’ve never believed it. No man worthy to be called a Roman veteran would show off his scars to escape paying a debt.”
Titus shook his head. “The temple will also house a center for distributing food to the poor. Does that offend you?”
“Indeed it does! How will the aediles purchase that food? With the confiscated wealth of patricians who’ve dared to offend the tribunes!” Gnaeus raised an eyebrow, then leaned back and crossed his arms. He exhaled a long breath. “Titus, dear Titus. I think I liked it better when I was a warrior and you were a builder, and we had no interests in common.”
“Membership in the Senate does not necessarily draw men together,” said Titus wryly. “But if my father-in-law and I can get along, despite our differences, then so can we, Gnaeus. You’ll find that I have few fixed opinions; in matter of politics, I follow the consensus. The only thing I truly care about is my passion for building.”
The conversation was joined by a feminine voice. “Did I hear you say something about distributing my food to the poor, Titus Potitius? Is my chickpea and millet porridge too common for your taste?”
Titus stood to acknowledge the appearance of Gnaeus’s mother in the garden. One needed to look no further than the graceful Veturia to see the model which had inspired her son’s erect posture and haughty demeanor. “Veturia! You misheard my comments. For your porridge, I have only the highest praise!”
“Good! I made it myself. No slave’s cooking will do for my son, on the rare occasion that find
s him home from fighting Roma’s enemies!” From behind, she leaned over to embrace Gnaeus, who remained seated and reached up to grasp her hands and give her a kiss. The widow Veturia was still a very handsome woman, and Gnaeus unabashedly adored her. If only to make my mother proud of me, Gnaeus had once said, declaring his boyhood ambition to become Roma’s greatest warrior. At that moment, the mother of Coriolanus looked very proud indeed.
It was not every senator whose first speech before the august body set off a near-riot inside the chamber, and a full-scale riot outside.
The special appointment of the hero Coriolanus to the Senate was swiftly done. He was outfitted with a senatorial toga, and the day of his induction, if not as momentous as that of Appius Claudius, was nonetheless marked by all the proper ceremonies and speeches of welcome.
The fact that Gnaeus was a plebeian was not an impediment to his admission. A number of wealthy, powerful plebeians had been admitted into the ranks of the Senate. A small handful had even been elected consul, beginning with the great Brutus himself, though for any man not of patrician rank the attainment of the consulship posed a steep challenge. It was one thing to achieve nobilitas, the status of being among “the known,” which membership in the Senate conferred to a man and his descendents; it was quite another thing to attain the nobility’s highest honors. As Publius Pinarius had once remarked to Titus, approvingly, “To reach the very top in our brave new republic, it’s not enough merely to be noble; it’s necessary for that nobility to be covered with purple must like old wine, to be ancient and rusty like iron. That sort of status comes only with generations of breeding!”
If anyone might have opposed Gnaeus’s appointment to their ranks, it would have been the plebeian minority in the Senate who regularly put forth radical legislation and who knew very well where Gnaeus’s allegiances lay; but the plebs bided their time and did not speak against him. It was Gnaeus who spoke against them.
The more conservative senators had always opposed the establishment of the tribunes as protectors of the plebs. Some who had acquiesced to the necessity, in order to end the secession of the plebs, now regretted it. Yet no one, not even the reactionary Appius Claudius, dared to call publicly for the abolition of the tribunes. There was some question as to whether it would be even legal to do so; to interfere with the work of the tribunes was a crime punishable by exile or death, and could it not be argued that calling for their abolition amounted to interference with their work?
It was left to a man who knew no fear to do what Appius Claudius and his colleagues were afraid to do.
On the morning that Gnaeus was inducted into their ranks, the business of the Senate was commonplace. Funds needed to be appropriated to repair a section of the Cloaca Maxima. More funds were needed to rebuild a portion of a road south of the city rendered impassable by heavy rains. A section of the wall protecting the Aventine needed repair. There was debate as to who should receive these contracts; certain senators were notorious for getting the most lucrative contracts, and for overcharging, as well. After some acrimonious exchanges, the matter of funding was tabled and scheduled for further debate.
Titus Potitius was asked about progress on the Temple of Ceres. “I am happy to report that the work of the Greek artists Gorgasus and Damophilus is very nearly complete. Some of you have seen the results already. I believe I can say without exaggeration that our grandchildren, and their grandchildren, when they look upon this temple, will praise their ancestors for having created a gift of such exquisite beauty to the goddess. In years of bounty, we shall have a place to thank her. In lean years, we shall have a place to appeal to her favor.”
There was a murmur of approval throughout the chamber. Titus was well liked, and his competence was beyond dispute.
The attention of the Senate turned to its newest member, who had put in a request to speak. Gnaeus, who was sitting between Appius Claudius and Titus, rose to his feet and strode to the center of the chamber, so that he could move about freely and face all the senators in turn.
“My colleagues, let me tell you straight out that I am not a man of delicate words. My oratorical skills, such as they are, were not learned on the Field of Mars where the men standing for consul beg for votes. I am not accustomed to flattering anyone, least of all my inferiors. I learned to speak on the battlefield, exhorting other men to fight and to spill their blood for Roma. Today, I find myself on another battlefield, where the fate of Roma hangs in the balance. You, senators, are the warriors I must rally to take up arms and fight for Roma!
“Not long ago, when the plebs staged their so-called secession, one of your number, the distinguished Menenius Agrippa, made an impassioned speech to the people, trying to make them see reason. He told them a fable which went something like this: Long ago, the parts of the human body were not all in harmony, as they are now, but each had its own thoughts and ideas. The hard-working limbs and the vigilant eyes and ears noticed that the belly seemed to do nothing but lay idle and wait for the other parts to feed it. ‘We all work hard to satisfy the belly, but what does the belly do for us?’ they said. ‘Let us teach the belly a lesson!’ So they conspired to withhold all nourishment from it. The limbs refused to gather grain, the eyes refused to watch for game, the hands refused to take food to the mouth, the mouth refused to open. When the empty belly began to grumble-not a selfish demand, but a warning of danger! — the other parts merely laughed. How simpleminded, how spiteful were these resentful parts! Because, quite soon, the limbs began to wither, the hands began to tremble, the eyes and ears grew dull. The weakened parts fell prey to every manner of disease. Finally, they realized that the belly, too, had its essential part to play in the great scheme of things, for it was the belly that sustained the rest of the body, and without it the other parts could not continue to exist! The rebellion ceased. The natural order was restored. The body gradually returned to health, and the other parts never again conspired against the belly. When it asked to be fed, they all worked together to do so, without questioning.
“If only the fable told by Agrippa had sufficed to make those malcontents see the error of their ways! A city must be ruled by the best and wisest of its men, and to those men must be given the respect and privileges they deserve. The other citizens have their purpose, but it is not to rule the city! They exist to fill the ranks of the army, to settle new colonies so as to spread the power of Roma and encircle her with obedient allies, to harvest the crops, and to build the roads. It is not the rabble’s place to rule, yet they persist in their reckless attempts to pull down their betters and take their place! They can only fail, because, like the limbs who rebelled against the belly, what they are attempting goes against the natural order of the universe, against the will of the gods.
“And yet, these malcontents have already done great damage to the state, and they have done so with the craven cooperation of a majority within this very chamber! This appeasement must stop. More than that, it must be rolled back, before the damage becomes irreparable. This is not merely an internal matter, a disagreement among citizens. Never forget that Roma is surrounded by enemies, and those enemies are always watching. How gleeful they must be, to see our predicament! One by one, the best men of Roma will be pulled down by the rabble. Who then will defend the city against her foes? Just as the lesser men will destroy the greater men in Roma, so lesser cities will unite to destroy Roma herself. Your fortunes and your land will be taken from you. Your families shall be sold into slavery. Our beloved Roma shall cease to exist-and men will say that her destruction began with the creation of the tribunes of the plebs!”
There was an uproar in the chamber. Members cried out, “This issue has already been settled!” and “The plebs are not the enemy!” But others were exhilarated by Gnaeus’s words, including Appius Claudius, who sprang to his feet and shouted, “Hail Coriolanus, the man who dares to speak the truth!”
Gnaeus raised his hands. As the din subsided, one senator shouted, “What exactly do you propose, Gnae
us Marcius?”
“What do you think? I propose that the tribunes must be abolished.”
“The proposal is illegal!” shouted a senator. “Withdraw it at once!”
“I will not! I stand by my words, and I ask you, my colleagues, to stand by me. A grave mistake was made and it must be rectified, for the sake of Roma!”
If Gnaeus had hoped to put forward a formal proposal and to call for a vote, he was thwarted. All over the chamber, senators sprang to their feet and loudly demanded to be recognized. Shouting led to name-calling, and then to shoving matches. Amid the chaos, Gnaeus, who was used to the discipline of the army and its clear lines of authority, threw up his hands in disgust and strode out of the chamber.
Titus caught up with him as he descended the steps of the Senate House. “Gnaeus, where are you going?”
“Anywhere to escape that tumult. The Senate is just what I expected-all kings and no crown. How they ever accomplish anything, I can’t imagine. Would you believe it, just this morning, Cominius was telling me that I should consider a run for consul. Can you see me currying favor with that lot and the common rabble? I think not!”
“It’s usually not quite so…disorderly.” Titus laughed. “You certainly riled them up.”
“I did, didn’t I? Because they needed it!” Gnaeus’s smile abruptly faded. In the middle of the Forum, he found himself confronted by a large group of men. One of the men stepped forward.
“Are you Gnaeus Marcius, called Coriolanus?”
“You know I am. Who are you?”
“Spurius Icilius, tribune of the plebs. I’ve been informed of a threat made against myself and the well-being of all plebeians.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Did you not, only moments ago, make a proposal on the floor of the Senate that the tribunate of the plebs should be abolished, therefore threatening the safety and protection of all plebeians?”
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