Though he had made himself sound confident enough to Rutilius Rufus, young Gaius Caesar walked home in less hopeful mood. Aurelia's fame was widespread. Many of his friends had applied for her hand; some Marcus Cotta had refused to add to his list, others were entered on it. Among the successful applicants were names more august than his, if only because those names were allied to enormous fortunes. To be a Julius Caesar meant little beyond a social distinction so secure even poverty could not destroy its aura. Yet how could he compete against the likes of Marcus Livius Drusus, or young Scaurus, or Licinius Orator, or Mucius Scaevola, or the elder of the Ahenobarbus brothers? Not knowing that Aurelia had been given the opportunity to choose her own husband, young Caesar rated his chances extremely slender. When he let himself in through the front door and walked down the passageway to the atrium, he could see the lights still burning in his father's study, and blinked back sudden tears before going quietly to the half-open door, and knocking. "Come," said a tired voice. Gaius Julius Caesar was dying. Everyone in the house knew it, including Gaius Julius Caesar, though not a word had been spoken. The illness had started with difficulty in swallowing, an insidious thing which crept onward, so slowly at first that it was hard to tell whether there actually was a worsening. Then his voice had begun to croak, and after that the pain started, not unbearable at first. It had now become constant, and Gaius Julius Caesar could no longer swallow solid food. So far he had refused to see a doctor, though every day Marcia begged him to. "Father?" "Come and keep me company, young Gaius," said Caesar, who turned sixty this year, but in the lamplight looked more like eighty. He had lost so much weight his skin hung on him, the planes of his skull were just that, a skull, and constant suffering had bleached the life out of his once-intense blue eyes. His hand went out to his son; he smiled. "Oh, Father!" Young Caesar tried manfully to keep the emotion out of his voice, but could not; he crossed the room to Caesar, took the hand, and kissed it, then stepped closer and gathered his father to him, arms about the skinny shoulders, cheek against the lifeless silver-gilt hair. "Don't cry, my son," Caesar croaked. "It will soon be over. Athenodorus Siculus is coming tomorrow." A Roman didn't cry. Or wasn't supposed to cry. To young Caesar that seemed a mistaken standard of behavior, but he mastered his tears, drew away, and sat down near enough to his father to retain his clasp of the clawlike hand. "Perhaps Athenodorus will know what to do," he said. "Athenodorus will know what all of us know, that I have an incurable growth in my throat," said Caesar. "However, your mother hopes for a miracle, and I am far enough gone now for Athenodorus not to even think of offering her one. I have gone forward with living for only one reason, to make sure all the members of my family are properly provided for, and to assure myself they are happily settled." Caesar paused, his free hand groping for the cup of unwatered wine which was now his only physical solace. A minute sip or two, and he continued. "You are the last, young Gaius," he whispered. "What am I to hope for you? Many years ago I gave you one luxury, which you have not yet espoused the luxury of choosing your own wife. Now I think the time is here for you to exercise your option. It would make me rest easier if I knew you were decently settled." Young Gaius Caesar lifted his father's hand and laid it against his cheek, leaning forward and taking all the weight of his father's arm. "I've found her, Father," he said. "I met her tonight isn't that strange?" "At Publius Rutilius's?" asked Caesar incredulously. The young man grinned. "I think he was playing matchmaker!" "An odd role for a consul." "Yes." Young Caesar drew a breath. "Have you heard of his niece Marcus Cotta's stepdaughter, Aurelia?" "The current beauty? I think everyone must have." "That's her. She's the one." Caesar looked troubled. "Your mother tells me there's a line of suitors clear around the block, including the richest and noblest bachelors in Rome and even some who are not bachelors, I hear." "All absolutely true," said young Gaius. "But I shall marry her, never fear!" "If your instincts about her are right, then you're going to make a rod for your own back," said the caring father very seriously. "Beauties of her caliber don't make good wives, Gaius. They're spoiled, capricious, willful, and pert. Let her go to some other man, and choose a girl of humbler kind." He bethought himself of a comforting fact, and relaxed. "Luckily you're a complete nobody compared to Lucius Licinius Orator or Gnaeus Domitius Junior, even if you are a patrician. Marcus Aurelius won't even consider you, of that I'm sure. So don't set your heart on her to the exclusion of all others." "She'll marry me, tata, wait and see!" And from that contention Gaius Julius Caesar did not have the strength to budge his son, so he let himself be helped to the bed where he had taken to sleeping alone, so restless and transient were his periods of sleep.
Aurelia lay on her stomach within the closely curtained litter as it jiggled and joggled her up and down the hills between her Uncle Publius's house and her Uncle Marcus's house. Gaius Julius Caesar Junior! How wonderful he was, how perfect! But would he want to marry her? What would Cornelia the Mother of the Gracchi think? Sharing the litter with her mistress, Cardixa watched her with great curiosity; this was an Aurelia she had never seen before. Bolt upright in a corner and carefully holding a candle shielded by thin alabaster so that the interior of the litter was not completely darkened, she noted symptoms of a marked change. Aurelia's quick tense body was utterly relaxed in a sprawl, her mouth was held less tightly, and creamy eyelids hid whatever lurked in her eyes. Being of excellent intelligence, Cardixa knew exactly the reason for the change; the terribly good-looking young man Publius Rutilius had produced almost like a main course. Oh, cunning old villain that he was! And yet Gaius Julius Caesar Junior was a very special person, just right for Aurelia. Cardixa knew it in her bones. Whatever Cornelia the Mother of the Gracchi might have done in a similar situation, by the time she arose next morning Aurelia knew her course of action. The first thing she did was to send Cardixa around to the Caesar house with a note for her young man. "Ask to marry me," it said baldly. After which she did nothing at all, simply hid herself in her workroom and appeared for meals as inconspicuously as possible, aware herself that she was changing, and not wanting her vigilant parents to see it before she made her move. The following day she waited until Marcus Cotta's clients had been attended to, in no hurry because Cotta's secretary had informed her there were no meetings of Senate or People for him to attend; he would certainly remain at home for an hour or two after the last client departed. "Father?" Cotta looked up from the papers on his desk. "Ah! It's Father today, is it? Come in, daughter, come in.'' He smiled at her warmly. "Would you like your mother here too?" "Yes, please." "Then go and fetch her." Off she went, reappearing a moment later with Rutilia. "Sit down, ladies," said Cotta. They disposed themselves side by side on a couch. "Well, Aurelia?" "Have there been any new applicants?" she asked abruptly. "As a matter of fact, yes. Young Gaius Julius Caesar came to see me yesterday, and as I have nothing against him, I added him to the list. Which makes my total thirty-eight." Aurelia blushed. Fascinated, Cotta stared at her, never having seen her discomposed in his entire acquaintance of her. The tip of a pink tongue came out, wetted her lips. Rutilia, he noted, had swiveled on the couch to observe her daughter, and was equally intrigued by the blush and the discomposure. "I've made up my mind," Aurelia said. "Excellent! Tell us," prompted Cotta. "Gaius Julius Caesar Junior." "What?" asked Cotta blankly. "Who?" asked Rutilia blankly. "Gaius Julius Caesar Junior,'' Aurelia repeated patiently. "Well, well! The last horse entered in the race," said Cotta, amused. "My brother's late entry," said Rutilia. "Ye gods, he's clever! How did he know?" "He's a remarkable man," said Cotta to his wife, then said to his stepdaughter, "You met Gaius Julius Junior at your uncle's the day before yesterday was that for the very first time?" "Yes." "But he's the one you want to marry." "Yes." "My darling girl, he's a relatively poor man," said the mother. "There won't be any luxury for you as the wife of young Gaius Julius, you know." "One doesn't marry in order to live in luxury." "I'm glad you have the good sense to know that, my child. However, he's not the man I would have chosen for you," said C
otta, not really pleased. "I'd like to know why, Father," said Aurelia. "It's a strange family. Too too unorthodox. And they're bound ideologically as well as maritally to Gaius Marius, a man I absolutely detest," said Cotta. "Uncle Publius likes Gaius Marius," said Aurelia. "Your Uncle Publius is sometimes a little misguided," Cotta answered grimly. "However, he's not so besotted that he'd vote against his own class in the Senate just for the sake of Gaius Marius where I cannot say the same of the Julians of Gaius's branch! Your Uncle Publius soldiered with Gaius Marius for many years, and that creates an understandable bond. Where old Gaius Julius Caesar welcomed Gaius Marius with open arms, and has taught his whole family to esteem him." "Didn't Sextus Julius marry one of the lesser Claudias not long ago?" asked Rutilia. "I believe so." "Well, that's an unimpeachable union, at any rate. Maybe the sons are not so attached to Gaius Marius as you think." "They're brothers-in-law, Rutilia." Aurelia interjected, "Father and Mother, you left it up to me," she said sternly. "I am going to marry Gaius Julius Caesar, and that's that." It was said with great firmness, but not insolently. Cotta and Rutilia gazed at her in consternation, finally understanding; the coolly sensible Aurelia was in love. "That's true, we did," said Cotta briskly, deciding there was no alternative save to make the best of it. "Well, off with you!" He waved dismissal to his wife and niece. "I have to get the scribes onto writing thirty-seven letters. And then I had better walk round to see Gaius Julius father and son, I suppose." The general letter Marcus Aurelius Cotta sent out said:
After careful consideration, I decided that I would permit my niece and ward, Aurelia, to choose her own husband. My wife, her mother, agreed. This is to announce that Aurelia has made her choice. Her husband is to be Gaius Julius Caesar Junior, younger son of the Conscript Father Gaius Julius Caesar. I trust you will join with me in offering the couple all felicitations for their coming marriage.
His secretary looked at Cotta with wide eyes. "All right, don't just sit there, get onto it!" said Cotta rather gruffly for such an even-tempered man. "I want thirty-seven copies of that within the hour, each one headed to a man on this list." He shoved the list across the table. "I'll sign them myself, then they are to be delivered by hand immediately." The secretary got to work; so did the gossip grapevine, which easily beat the letters to their recipients. Many were the sore hearts and new grudges when the news got round, for clearly Aurelia's choice was an emotional one, not an expedient one. Somehow that made it less forgivable; none of the starters on Aurelia's list of suitors liked being pipped on the post by the younger son of a mere backbencher, no matter how august his lineage. Besides which, the lucky man was far too good-looking, and that was generally felt to be an unfair advantage. After she recovered from the initial shock, Rutilia was inclined to approve of her daughter's choice. "Oh, think of the children she'll have!" she purred to Cotta as he stood being draped in his purple-bordered toga so he could venture forth to visit the Julius Caesar household, situated in a less fashionable part of the Palatine. "If you leave money out of it, it's a splendid match for an Aurelius, let alone a Rutilius. The Julians are the very top of the tree." "You can't dine off an ancient bloodline," growled Cotta. "Oh, come now, Marcus Aurelius, it isn't that bad! The Marius connection has advanced the Julian fortune mightily, and no doubt it will continue to do so. I can't see any reason why young Gaius Julius won't be consul. I've heard he's very bright, as well as very capable." "Handsome is as handsome does," said Cotta, unconvinced. However, he set out in togate magnificence, a handsome man himself, though with the florid complexion all the Aurelius Cottas possessed; it was a family whose members did not live to be very old, for they were subject to apoplexy. The younger Gaius Julius Caesar was not at home, he was informed, so he asked for the old man, and was surprised when the steward looked grave. "If you will excuse me, Marcus Aurelius, I will make inquiries," the steward said. "Gaius Julius is not well." This was the first Cotta had heard of an illness, but upon reflection he realized that indeed the old man had not been in the Senate House in some time. "I'll wait," he said. The steward came back quickly. "Gaius Julius will see you," he said, conducting Cotta to the study. "I should warn you that his appearance will shock you." Glad he had been warned, Cotta concealed his shock as the bony fingers managed the enormous task of poking forward to offer a handshake. "Marcus Aurelius, it is a pleasure," Caesar said. "Sit down, do! I'm sorry I cannot rise, but my steward will have told you I am not well." A faint smile played around the fine lips. "A euphemism. I'm dying." "Oh, surely not," said Cotta uneasily, seating himself on the edge of a chair with twitching nostrils; there was a peculiar smell in the room, of something unpleasant. "Surely so. I have a growth in my throat. It was confirmed this morning by Athenodorus Siculus." "It grieves me to hear you say it, Gaius Julius. Your presence in the House will be sorely missed, especially by my brother-in-law Publius Rutilius." "He's a good friend." Caesar's red-rimmed eyes blinked tiredly. "I can guess why you're here, Marcus Aurelius, but please tell me." "When the list of my niece and ward Aurelia's suitors got so long and so filled with powerful names that I had to fear the choosing of her husband would leave my sons with more enemies than friends, I permitted her to choose her own spouse," said Cotta. "Two days ago she met your younger son at the house of her uncle, Publius Rutilius, and today she tells me she has chosen him." "And you dislike it as much as I do," said Caesar. "I do." Cotta sighed, shrugged. "However, I passed my word on the matter, so I shall adhere to it." "I made the same concession to my younger son many years ago," said Caesar, and smiled. "We will agree to make the best of it then, Marcus Aurelius, and hope that our children have more sense than we do." "Indeed, Gaius Julius." "You will want to know my son's circumstances." "He told me when he applied for her hand." "He may not have been forthcoming enough. There is more than sufficient land to ensure his seat in the Senate, but at the moment, nothing more," said Caesar. "Unfortunately, I am not in a position to purchase a second house in Rome, and that is a difficulty. This house goes to my older son, Sextus, who married recently and lives here with his wife, now in the early stages of her first pregnancy. My death is imminent, Marcus Aurelius. After my death, it is Sextus who becomes the paterfamilias, and upon his marriage my younger son will have to find another place to live." "I'm sure you know Aurelia is heavily dowered," said Cotta. "Perhaps the most sensible thing to do is to invest her dowry in a house." He cleared his throat. "She inherited a large sum from her father, my brother, which has been invested for some years now. In spite of the market ups and downs, it stands at the moment at about one hundred talents. Forty talents will buy a more than respectable house on the Palatine or the Carinae. Naturally the house would be put in your son's name, but if at any time a divorce should occur, your son would have to replace the sum the house cost. But divorce aside, Aurelia would still have a sufficient sum left in her own right to ensure she doesn't want." Caesar frowned. "I dislike the thought that my son will live in a private dwelling funded by his wife," he croaked. "It would be a presumption on his part. No, Marcus Aurelius, I think something is called for that will safeguard Aurelia's money better than the purchasing of a house she will not own. A hundred talents will buy an insula in excellent condition anywhere on the Esquiline. It should be bought for her, in her name. The young couple can live rent-free in one of the ground-floor apartments, and your niece can enjoy an income from renting the rest of the apartments, an income larger than she can get from other kinds of investments. My son will have to strive of his own volition to earn the money to buy a private house, and that will keep his courage and ambitions high." "I couldn't allow Aurelia to live in an insula!" said Cotta, aghast. "No, I'll slice off forty talents to buy a house, and leave the other sixty talents safely invested." "An insula in her own name," said Caesar stubbornly. He gasped, choked, leaned forward fighting for breath. Cotta poured a cup of wine and placed it in the clutching hand, assisting the hand to Caesar's lips. "Better," said Caesar in a little while. "Perhaps I ought to come back," said Cotta. "No, let's thrash this
out now, Marcus Aurelius. We do agree, you and I, that this match is not the one we would have chosen for either participant. Very well then, let us not make it too easy for them. Let us teach them the price of love. If they belong together, a little hardship can only strengthen their bond. If they do not, a little hardship will accelerate the break. We will ensure that Aurelia keeps all of her dowry, and we will not injure my son's pride any more than we can help. An insula, Marcus Aurelius! It must be of the best construction, so make sure you employ honest men to inspect it. And," the whispering voice went on, "don't be too fussy about its location. Rome is growing rapidly, but the market for inexpensive housing is far steadier than for housing of those moving upward. When times are hard, those moving upward slide down, so there are always tenants looking for cheaper rent." "Ye gods, my niece would be a common landlady!" cried Cotta, revolted by the idea. "And why not?" asked Caesar, smiling tiredly. "I hear she's a colossal beauty. Won't the two roles marry? If they won't, perhaps she should think twice about marrying my son." "It is true that she's a colossal beauty," said Cotta, smiling broadly at a secret joke. "I shall bring her to meet you, Gaius Julius, and let you make of her what you will." He got to his feet, leaned over to pat the thin shoulder. "My last word is this: it shall be left to Aurelia to decide what happens to her dowry. You put your proposition of the insula to her yourself, and I shall put my suggestion of a house forward. Is it a deal?" "It's a deal," said Caesar. "But send her quickly, Marcus Aurelius! Tomorrow, at noon." "Will you tell your son?" "Indeed I will. He can fetch her to me tomorrow."
1. First Man in Rome Page 44
