The First Man in Rome (33 page)

"Nonetheless, Marcus Aemilius, the People are sovereign, and the People say you must step down," said Mamilius.

"I won't step down!" said Scaurus.

"In that case, Marcus Aemilius, I am authorized by the People to arrest you and cast you into prison until you formally resign," said Mamilius.

"Lay one hand on me, Gaius Mamilius, and you will revert to the soprano voice of your boyhood!" said Scaurus.

Whereupon Mamilius turned to the crowd which had naturally gathered to see the spectacle, and cried out to it, "People of Rome, I call you to witness the fact that I hereby interpose my veto against any further censorial activity by Marcus Aemilius Scaurus!" he declared.

And that of course was the end of the matter. Scaurus rolled up his contracts and handed everything over to his clerks, had his chair slave fold up his ivory seat, and stood bowing in all directions to the applauding throng, which loves nothing better than a good confrontation between its magistrates, and adores Scaurus wholeheartedly because he has the kind of courage all Romans admire in their magistrates. Then he strolled down the temple steps, gave Perdiccas's roan horse a pat in passing, linked his arm through Mamilius's, and left the field wearing all the laurels.

Caesar sighed, leaned back in his chair, and decided that he had better comment upon the news Marius—by no means such a wordy correspondent as his father-in-law—had sent from the Roman African province, where Metellus, it appeared, had succeeded in bogging the war against Jugurtha in a mire of inconsistent activity and poor generalship. Or at least that was Marius's version, though it did not tally with the reports Metellus kept sending the Senate.

You will shortly hear—if you have not heard already—that the Senate has prorogued Quintus Caecilius's command of the African province and the Jugurthine war. It will not in any way surprise you, I am sure. And I expect that, having leaped this biggest hurdle, Quintus Caecilius will step up his military activity, for once the Senate has prorogued a governor's command, he can be sure to retain that command until he considers the danger to his province over. It is a shrewd tactic to be inert until the consulship year is over and proconsular imperium is bestowed.

But yes, I do agree that your general was shockingly dilatory in not even starting his campaign until summer was almost over, especially considering that he arrived in early spring. But his dispatches say his army needed thorough training, and the Senate believes them. And yes, it escapes me as to why he appointed you, an infantryman, to lead his cavalry arm, just as it seems a waste of Publius Rutilius's talents to use him as
praefectus fabrum
when he would serve better in the field than running round dealing with supply columns and artillery repairs. However, it is the prerogative of the general to use his men as he likes, from his senior legates all the way down to his auxiliary rankers.

All Rome was delighted when the news of the capture of Vaga came, though I note your letter said the town surrendered. And—if you will forgive my playing Quintus Caecilius's advocate—I fail to see why you are so indignant at the appointment of Quintus Caecilius's friend Turpillius as the commander of the Vaga garrison. Is it important?

I am far more impressed with your version of the battle at the river Muthul than I am with the version contained-in Quintus Caecilius's senatorial dispatch, which should console you somewhat for my hint of skepticism, and reassure you that I do indeed remain on your side. And I'm sure you're right in telling Quintus Caecilius that the best way to win the war against Numidia is to capture Jugurtha himself, for, like you, I believe him to be the fountainhead of all Numidian resistance.

I'm sorry this first year has been so frustrating for you, and that Quintus Caecilius has apparently decided he can win without properly using either your talents or those of Publius Rutilius. It will make your attempt to be elected consul the year after next much harder if you do not receive an opportunity to shine in the coming Numidian campaigns. But, Gaius Marius, I do not expect that you will take such cavalier treatment lying down, and I'm sure you'll find a way to shine in spite of the very worst Quintus Caecilius can do.

I shall close with one further Forum item. Due to the loss of Silanus's army in Gaul-across-the-Alps, the Senate has nullified one of the last surviving laws of Gaius Gracchus, namely the one limiting the number of times a man can enlist. Nor does he have to be seventeen anymore, nor do ten years under the colors exclude him from the levies anymore, nor do six campaigns exclude him anymore. A sign of the times. Both Rome and Italy are rapidly becoming denuded of men for the legions.

Do look after yourself, and write as soon as my mild attempts to play advocate for Quintus Caecilius have faded enough to allow you to think of me with affection. I am still your father-in-law, and I still think very well of you.

And that, decided Gaius Julius Caesar, was a letter well worth the sending, full of news and good advice and comfort. Gaius Marius would have it before the old year expired.

In the end it was almost halfway through December before Sulla escorted Clitumna down to Circei, all solicitude and tender kindness. Though he had worried that his plans might go awry because time would improve Clitumna's mood, the extraordinary change in his luck continued to bless him, for Clitumna remained deeply depressed, as Marcia would be bound to report to Caesar.

As villas on the Campanian coast went, Clitumna's version was not overlarge, but even so, it was far bigger than the house on the Palatine; vacationing Romans able to afford the luxury of owning country villas liked to feel surrounded by space. Standing atop a volcanic headland and having its own private beach, the villa lay some distance south of Circei, and had no close neighbors. One of the many speculation builders who frequented the Campanian coast had put it up during the course of the winter three years before, and Clitumna had bought it the moment she discovered the builder had a genius for plumbing, and had installed a shower bath as well as a proper bathing tub.

Thus the first thing Clitumna did after she arrived was to have a shower bath, after which she dined, after which she and Sulla went to bed in separate rooms, and alone. He remained at Circei for two days only, devoting all his time to Clitumna, who continued to be cheerless, though she didn't want Sulla to leave.

"I have a surprise for you," he said to her as he walked with her in the grounds of the villa early in the morning of the day he returned to Rome.

Even that hardly evoked a response. "Yes?" she asked.

"On the first night of the full moon you will receive your surprise," he said seductively.

"Night?" she asked, becoming the slightest bit interested.

"Night,
and
full moon! That is, provided it's a fine clear night and you can see the full moon."

They were standing beneath the tall front facade of the villa, which like most was built upon sloping ground, with a loggia atop the front section, where the villa dweller could sit to take in the view. Behind this narrow front facade was a vast peristyle-garden, and behind the peristyle-garden lay the villa proper, in which the bulk of the rooms were situated. The stables were located on the ground level of the front facade, with living quarters for the stable staff above, and the loggia above that again.

The land in front of Clitumna's villa sloped away in grass and tangles of rambling roses to the cliff top, and was most artfully planted on either flank with a grove of trees which ensured privacy should another villa go up on the next block of land.

Sulla pointed to the large clump of salt pines and pencil cypresses on their left.

"It's a secret, Clitumna," he said in what she called his "growly voice," always a sign of prolonged and particularly delicious lovemaking.

"What is a secret?" she asked, beginning to be eager.

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a secret any longer," he whispered, nibbling her ear.

She squirmed a little, cheered up a little. "Is the secret the same as the surprise on the night of the moon?"

"Yes. But you
must
keep everything a secret, including my promising you a surprise. Swear?"

"I swear," she said.

"What you must do is sneak out of the house at the beginning of the third hour of darkness, eight days from last night. You must come down here absolutely on your own, and hide in that grove of trees," said Sulla, stroking her flank.

Her listlessness was gone. "Oooooooooh! Is it a nice surprise?" she asked, squeaking on the last word.

"It will be the biggest surprise of your entire life," said Sulla, "and that's not an idle promise, darling. But I do require a couple of conditions."

She wrinkled her nose girlishly and simpered, looking very silly. "Yes?"

"First of all, no one must know, not even little Bithy. If you do take anyone into your confidence, your chief surprise will be disappointment. And I will be very, very angry. You don't like it when I'm very, very angry, do you, Clitumna?"

She shivered. "No, Lucius Cornelius."

"Then keep our secret. Your reward will be amazing, a completely new and different kind of experience," he whispered. "In fact, if you can manage to seem specially downcast from now until you receive your surprise, it will turn out even better, I promise you."

"I'll be good, Lucius Cornelius," she said fervently.

He could see the way her mind was working, and knew that she had decided the surprise was a new and delectable companion—female, attractive, sexually willing, compatible, and a cozy gossipy talker for the passing of the long days between the lovely nights. But she knew Sulla well enough to understand that she must abide by his conditions, or he was just as likely to take whoever it was away again forever—perhaps install her in an apartment of her own, now that he had Nicopolis's money. Besides which, no one defied Sulla when he spoke in earnest, a reason why the servants of Clitumna's household held their tongues about what had gone on between Clitumna and Nicopolis and Sulla, and if they ever said anything at all, did so in a fear which robbed their words of much of their normal impact.

"There's a second condition," he said.

She snuggled against him. "Yes, darling Lucius?"

"If the night is not fine, the surprise cannot come. So you will have to respect the weather. If the first night is wet, wait for the next dry one."

"I understand, Lucius Cornelius."

Thus Sulla drove off to Rome in a hired gig leaving Clitumna faithfully hugging her secret, and trying assiduously to present a picture of acute depression. Even Bithy, with whom Clitumna had taken to sleeping, believed her mistress desolate.

Upon reaching Rome, Sulla summoned the steward of Clitumna's house on the Palatine; he was one staff member not relocated to Circei, as the villa there had its own steward, who acted as caretaker in his mistress's absence—and cheated her very cleverly. So did the steward of her Palatine house.

"How many servants did the mistress leave here, Iamus?" asked Sulla, sitting at his desk in the study; he was evidently making out some kind of list, for it lay beneath his hand.

"Just myself, two house boys, two house girls, a market boy, and the undercook, Lucius Cornelius," said the steward.

"Well, you're going to have to hire some extra help, because four days from now, Iamus, I am going to throw a party."

Sulla flapped his list at the astonished steward, who didn't know whether to protest that the lady Clitumna had given him no word of a party in her absence, or to go along with the idea and pray there were no ructions later, when the bills came in. Then Sulla relieved his mind.

"It's my show, so I'm paying for it," said Sulla, "and there'll be a big bonus in it for you on two conditions—one, that you co-operate fully in helping me put on the party, and two, that you make no mention of it to the lady Clitumna after she returns home, whenever that may be. Is that clear?"

"Fully, Lucius Cornelius," said Iamus, bowing deeply; largesse was a subject every slave risen high enough to be a steward understood almost as well as he understood how to doctor the household account books.

Off went Sulla to hire dancers, musicians, tumblers, singers, magicians, clowns, and other acts. For this was going to be the party to end all parties, one he intended would be heard far and wide across the Palatine. His last stop was the flat of Scylax the comedic actor.

"I want to borrow Metrobius," he said, erupting into the room Scylax had preferred to set up as a sitting room rather than as a study. It was the apartment of a voluptuary, redolent with incense and cassia wood, tapestried to death, overfurnished with couches and pouffes all stuffed with the finest wool.

Scylax sat up indignantly at the same moment Sulla was sinking into one of the sybaritically cushioned couches.

"Honestly, Scylax, you're as soft as custard-pudding and as decadent as a Syrian potentate!" said Sulla. "Why don't you get a bit of ordinary horsehair furniture? This stuff makes a man feel as if he's sinking into the arms of a gigantic whore! Ugh!"

"I piss on your taste," lisped Scylax.

"As long as you hand over Metrobius, you can piss on anything you like."