‘But it is a good start,’ she said.
Suetonius walked with his friends through empty streets away from the forum. The stalls and houses were shut and barred and they could still hear the muted sound of the crowd behind the rows of houses.
Suetonius didn’t speak for a long time, his face stiff with bitterness. Every cheer from the tradesmen had eaten at him until he couldn’t stand it any longer. Julius, always Julius. No matter what happened, the man seemed to have more luck than any three others. A few words to a crowd and they fawned on him, sickeningly, while Suetonius’ father was humiliated. It was appalling to see them swayed by tricks and words while a good Roman went unnoticed. He had been so proud when his father allowed his name to be entered for consul. Rome deserved a man of his dignity and his honour, not a Caesar, out for nothing more than his own glory.
Suetonius clenched his fists, almost growling at what he had witnessed. The two friends with him exchanged nervous glances.
‘He’s going to win, isn’t he?’ Suetonius said without looking at them.
Bibilus nodded, a pace behind his friend, then realised the gesture couldn’t be seen.
‘Perhaps. Pompey and Crassus seem to think so, at least. Your father could still take the second post.’
He wondered whether Suetonius was going to march them all the way back to the estate outside Rome. Good horses and comfortable rooms awaited them in the other direction as Suetonius stalked along, blind with his hatred. Bibilus hated to walk when horses were available. He hated riding as well, but it was easier on his legs and he sweated less.
‘He deserts his post in Spain and strolls in to announce he will try for consul and they simply accept it! I do wonder what bribes have changed hands to make this happen. He is capable of it, believe me. I know him well. The man has no honour. I remember that from the ships and Greece. That bastard, come back to haunt me. You would think he’d leave politics to better men after his wife died, wouldn’t you? He should have learned the dangers then. I tell you, Cato may have made enemies, but he was twice the man Caesar is. Your father knew that, Bibilus.’
Bibilus looked nervously around to see if anyone was within earshot. With Suetonius in this mood, there was no telling what he would say. Bibilus enjoyed his friend’s bitterness when they were in private rooms. He was quite in awe of the level of anger Suetonius seemed able to produce. In a public street, though, he felt his perspiration making his armpits slap wetly. Suetonius still marched as if the rising sun was nothing more than a vision, and the heat was growing.
Suetonius slipped on a loose stone and swore. Always Caesar to torment him. Whenever he was in the city, the fortunes of his family suffered. He knew Caesar had spread the slurs about him that had kept him from command in a legion. He had seen the covered smiles and whispers and known the source.
When he had seen the assassins creeping towards Caesar’s home, he had experienced a moment of true pleasure. He could have raised an alarm, sent riders to warn them. He could have stopped it, but he had walked away, saying nothing. They had torn Caesar’s wife apart. Suetonius remembered how he had laughed when his father told him the awful news. The old man had such an expression of gravity that Suetonius had not been able to help himself. His father’s amazement seemed to fuel it until his eyes were pouring tears.
Perhaps his father would understand a little better now he had seen Caesar’s flattery and promises for himself. The thought sat strangely in his mind, that he might be able to speak to his father again, with something shared between them. Suetonius couldn’t recall the last time he had said more than a few curt words to his son and that coldness too was Caesar’s doing. His father had given back the land they had won so cleverly while Julius was away. Given back the plot where Suetonius was to have built his house. He still remembered his father’s eyes when he protested. There was no love, just a cool appraisal that found him always wanting.
Suetonius raised his head and relaxed his tight hands. He would see his father and commiserate with him. Perhaps he wouldn’t flinch when Suetonius looked him in the eye, as if he was sickened by what he saw there. Perhaps he wouldn’t look so disappointed in his son.
Bibilus had seen the change in his friend’s gait and took the opportunity.
‘It’s getting hot, Suetonius. We should be heading back to the inn.’
Suetonius stopped and turned to his friend.
‘How wealthy are you, Bibilus?’ he asked suddenly.
Bibilus rubbed his hands nervously, as he always did when the subject of money came up between them. He had inherited a sum large enough never to have to work, but talking about it made him hot with embarrassment. He wished Suetonius didn’t find the subject so fascinating.
‘I have enough, you know. Not like Crassus, obviously, but enough,’ he said warily. Was he after another loan? Bibilus hoped not. Somehow the only time Suetonius promised repayment was at the moment of asking. When he had the money, it was never mentioned again. When Bibilus summoned enough courage to bring up the outstanding sums, Suetonius became irritable and usually ended up storming off, until Bibilus had to apologise.
‘Enough to stand for consul, Bibilus? There’s still another day or two before the senate list is closed to new names.’
Bibilus blinked in confusion and horror at the idea.
‘No, Suetonius, definitely not. I will not, even for you. I like my life and position in the Senate as it is. I wouldn’t want to be consul even if they offered it to me.’
Suetonius stepped closer to him and took hold of his damp toga, his face filled with distaste.
‘Do you want to see Caesar as consul? Do you even remember the civil war? Do you remember Marius and the damage he did? If you stand, you could split the vote for Caesar and let one of the others in with my father. If you are a friend to me, you won’t hesitate.’
‘I am of course, but it won’t work!’ Bibilus said, trying to pull away from the anger. The thought that Suetonius would smell his sweat was humiliating, but the grip was hard on his toga, exposing the white skin of his sagging chest.
‘Even if I stand and gather a few votes, I could take them from your father as easily as Caesar, don’t you see? Why don’t you stand yourself, if that’s what you want? I’ll give you campaign funds, I swear it.’
‘Have you lost your mind, telling me to stand against my own father? No, Bibilus. You may not be much of a friend, or much of anything, but there’s no one else on the list of any note. If we do nothing, my father will be destroyed by Caesar. I know how he panders to the mob, how they love him. How many would honour my father with Caesar parading himself like a glittering whore? You come from an old family and you have the money to raise your name before the election.’ His eyes brightened with malice as he considered the idea.
‘My father has not been away from Rome for years, remember, and he has support in the richer centuries, who vote first. You saw the speeches. Caesar appeals to the shiftless poor. If a majority is reached early, half of Rome may not be called to vote. It can be done.’
‘I don’t think –’ Bibilus stammered.
‘You must, Bibi, for me. Just a few of the early centuries at the vote would be enough and then he will be shamed into leaving Rome. If you see my father’s vote is suffering, you can withdraw. Nothing could be simpler, unless you would prefer to let Caesar be consul without a fight?’
Bibilus tried again. ‘I don’t have the funds to pay for …’
‘Your father left you a fortune, Bibi; did you think I didn’t know that? Do you think he would want to see Cato’s old enemy as consul? No, those petty loans you have given me in the past are nothing more than a few days’ living for you.’ Suetonius seemed to sense the incongruity of holding his friend so tightly even as he tried to persuade him. He let go and straightened Bibilus’ toga with a few twitches of his fingers.
‘That’s better. Now will you do this for me, Bibilus? You know how important it is to me. Who knows, you might enjoy being consul wi
th my father, if it comes to that. More importantly, Caesar must not be allowed to slide his way into power in this city.’
‘No. Do you hear? I will not!’ Bibilus said, wheezing slightly in fear.
Suetonius narrowed his eyes and gripped Bibilus by the arm, pulling him away from their companions. When he could not be overheard, Suetonius leaned in close to the sweating face of the young Roman.
‘Do you remember what you told me last year? What I saw when I came to your house? I know why your father despised you, Bibilus, why he sent you away to your fine house and retired from the Senate. Perhaps that was why his heart gave out, who knows? How long do you think you would survive if your tastes became public knowledge?’
Bibilus looked ill, his face twisting.
‘It was an accident, that girl. She had a flux …’
‘Can you stand the light of day on you, Bibilus?’ Suetonius said, pressing still closer. ‘I’ve seen the results of your … enthusiasm. I could bring a case myself against you and the penalties are unpleasant, though not more than you deserve. How many little girls and boys have passed through your hands in the last few years, Bibilus? How many of the Senate are fathers, do you think?’
Bibilus’ wet mouth shook in frustration. ‘You have no right to threaten me! My slaves are my own property. No one would listen to you.’
Suetonius showed his teeth, his face ugly with triumph. ‘Pompey lost a daughter, Bibi. He’d listen. He’d make sure you suffered for your pleasures, don’t you think? I’m sure he would not turn me away if I went to him.’
Bibilus slumped, his eyes filling with tears.
‘Please …’ he whispered.
Suetonius patted him on the shoulder. ‘There is no need to mention it again, Bibi. Friends do not desert each other,’ he said, rubbing the damp flesh comfortingly.
‘One hundred days, Servilia,’ Julius said as he took her in his arms on the steps of the Senate. ‘I have men searching the law cases to come. I’ll choose the best of them to make my name and the tribes will come to listen. Gods, there’s so much to do! I need you to contact everyone with debts to my family. I need runners, organisers, anyone who can argue for me on the streets from dawn to dusk. Brutus must use the Tenth to bring the gangs to heel. It’s my responsibility now, thanks to Crassus. The old man is a genius, I swear it. In one stroke, I have the power I need to prove I can make the streets safe. It’s all come so quickly, I almost don’t …’
Servilia pressed her fingers onto his lips to stop the torrent of words. She laughed as he continued to talk, mouthing muffled ideas as they struck him. She kissed him then and for a second he continued to talk as their lips touched, until she slapped him lightly on the cheek with her free hand.
He broke away, laughing.
‘I have to meet the Senate and I can’t be late for them. Start the work, Servilia. I’ll meet you here at noon.’
She watched him as he ran up the steps and disappeared into the gloom within, and then walked down to where her guards waited, her step light.
As Julius reached the door to the outer chamber, he found Crassus waiting for him. The older man looked strangely nervous and beads of sweat ran into the lines of his face.
‘I must speak to you before you go in, Julius,’ Crassus said. ‘Not inside, where there are ears to hear us.’
‘What is it?’ Julius asked, feeling a sudden weight descend on him as he registered the consul’s nervousness.
‘I have not been entirely honest with you, my friend,’ Crassus replied.
They could both hear the droning voices of the senators behind them as the two men sat on the wide steps, facing the forum.
Julius shook his head in disbelief.
‘I would not have believed you capable of this, Crassus.’
‘I am not capable of it,’ Crassus snapped. ‘I am telling you now, before the conspirators move against Pompey.’
‘You should have stopped it when they came to you. You could have gone straight to the Senate and denounced this Catiline before he had anything more than ideas. Now you tell me he has gathered an army? It is a little late to claim the clean robe for you, Crassus, no matter how you protest.’
‘If I had refused, they would have killed me and, yes, when they promised me the rule of Rome, I was tempted by it. There, you have heard me say it. Should I have given them to Pompey to parade as another victory before the people? To see him made Dictator for Life like Sulla before him? I was tempted, Julius, and I let it go too long unreported, but I am changing that now. I know their plans and where they have gathered. With your legion, we can destroy them before any harm is done.’
‘Is that why you made me aedile?’ Julius asked.
Crassus shrugged. ‘Of course. Now it is your responsibility to stop them. It will make a fine pillar for your campaign for the people to see nobilitas like Catiline held responsible for crimes as any other citizen would be. They will see you as one above the petty bonds of class and tribe.’
Julius looked at the consul pityingly. ‘And if I had not returned from Spain?’
‘Then I would have found another way to beat them before the end.’
‘Would you?’ Julius pressed him softly.
Crassus turned to glare at the young man at his side.
‘Do not doubt it. However, now you are here. I can give the leaders to you and the Tenth will destroy the rabble they have gathered. They were only a danger when no one knew. Without that surprise, you will scatter them and the consulship will be yours. I trust you will not forget your friends then.’
Julius rose quickly, looking down at the consul. Had he heard the entire truth of it, or just the parts Crassus wanted him to hear? Perhaps the men he betrayed were guilty of nothing more than being enemies to Crassus. It would not do to send the Tenth into the homes of powerful men on the strength of a conversation Crassus could deny. The consul was capable of it, Julius was sure.
‘I will think what to do, Crassus. I will not be your sword to strike at enemies.’
Crassus rose to face him, his eyes glinting with suppressed anger.
‘Politics is bloody, Julius. Better to learn that now than too late. I waited too long to deal with them. Be sure you don’t make the same mistake.’
The two men entered the senate building together, but apart.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The house Servilia had found for the campaign was three floors high and filled with people. Most importantly, it was central in the Esquiline valley, a busy part of the city that kept Julius in contact with those who needed to see him. From before dawn until the sun fell, his clients rushed in and out of the open doors, carrying errands and orders as Julius began to organise his strategy. The Tenth deployed in groups at night and after three vicious fights with the gangs of raptores, they had cleared eleven streets in the poorest areas and were spreading out. Julius knew only a fool would believe the gangs were beaten, but they didn’t dare to gather in the areas he had chosen and in time the people would realise they were under the protection of the legion and walk with confidence.
He had accepted three cases in the forum court and won the first, with the next only three days away. The crowds had come to see the young orator and cheered the decision in his favour, though the crime was relatively mild. Julius still hoped, against reason, that he would be asked to try a murderer, or some other offence that would bring the people in their thousands to hear him speak.
He hadn’t seen Alexandria for nearly two weeks after she accepted the commission to armour the fighters for a great sword tourney outside the city. When Julius was exhausted by the work, he refreshed himself by riding out to the Campus Martius to see the arena being constructed. Brutus and Domitius had sent word to every Roman town and city within five hundred miles to ensure the best quality of challenger. Even so, both men expected to be in the final and Brutus was convinced he would win, going so far as to put most of a year’s salary on his success.
When Julius walked to the forum, or
rode out to the ring being constructed, he made a point of travelling without guards, convinced the people must see his confidence in them. Brutus had argued against the decision, then given way with suspicious ease. Julius guessed his friend had men shadow their general whenever he moved around the city, ready to defend him. He didn’t mind such a tactic as long as it was hidden. The appearance was far more important than the reality.
As promised, Julius had argued in the Senate to order trade traffic to enter and leave Rome only at night, keeping the streets clear for citizens. His soldiers were on every corner to enforce the quiet after dark and after a few bouts of shouting with incensed merchants, the change had come easily enough. As aedile, the responsibility for city order was his and with Crassus openly supporting him there had been few restrictions imposed by the other members of the Senate.
Julius pressed the weariness from his eyes with his knuckles until he could see flashing lights. His clients and his soldiers were working hard for him. The campaign was going well and he could have been content if it hadn’t been for the problem Crassus had dropped in his lap.
The consul pressed him daily to move against those he had named as traitors. While Julius delayed, he was tormented by the thought that they could strike and the city would plunge into a chaos he could have prevented. He had spies watching their houses and it was clear enough that they met in private rooms and bath-houses where no listening ear could intrude. Still Julius did not act. To believe there was a plot of the magnitude Crassus had described seemed impossible when he looked out on the quiet streets around the campaign house. Yet he had seen war touch Rome before and that was enough for him to send Brutus to scout where Crassus had pointed them.
This was the burden of the responsibility he had craved, Julius could acknowledge wryly to himself. Though he could wish for someone else to risk their career and life, the decision had been left in his hands. He did not underestimate the stakes. With nothing but a few names, Julius could not accuse senators of treason without putting his own neck on the line. If he failed to make a case, the Senate would turn against him without a moment’s regret. Worse, the people might fear a return to the days of Sulla, where no one knew who next would be dragged out of their homes for treason. Rome could be damaged more by error than if he had done nothing, and that pressure was almost too much to bear.
The Emperor Series: Books 1-5 Page 99
