The First Man in Rome (57 page)

"Suit yourself," said Volux, who already admired Sulla to the point of hero worship, and now brimmed over with awe.

Sulla lay down amid a patch of soft and sandy earth, dug a hollow for his hip, shaped a mound for the back of his neck, said a mental prayer and promised an offering to Fortune to keep the scorpions away, closed his eyes, and fell instantly asleep. When Volux came back four hours later he found Sulla thus, and could have killed him. But Fortune belonged to Sulla in those days; Volux was a genuine friend.

The night was cold; Sulla hurt everywhere. "Oh, this creeping around like a spy is a younger man's profession!" he said, extending a hand to Volux for help in getting to his feet. Then he discerned a shadowy form behind Volux, and stiffened.

"It's all right, Lucius Cornelius, this is a friend of the King my father's. His name is Dabar," said Volux quickly.

"Another cousin of the King your father, I presume?"

"Actually no. Dabar is a cousin of Jugurtha's, and like Jugurtha, he's the bastard of a Berber woman. That's how he came to throw in his lot with us—Jugurtha prefers to be the only royal bastard at his court."

A flask of rich sweet unwatered wine was passed over; Sulla drained it without pausing to breathe, and felt the pain lessen, the cold vanish in a huge glow. Honey cakes followed, a piece of highly spiced kid's meat, and another flask of the same wine, which seemed at that moment the best Sulla had ever tasted in all his life.

"Oh, I feel better!" he said, flexing his muscles and stretching enormously. "What's the news?"

"Your pricking fingers cautioned you well, Lucius Cornelius," said Volux. "Jugurtha got to my father first."

"Am I betrayed?"

"No, no! But the situation has changed nonetheless. I will leave it to Dabar to explain, he was there."

Dabar squatted down on his haunches to join Sulla. "It seems Jugurtha heard of a deputation from Gaius Marius to my king," he said, low-voiced. "Of course he assumed that was why my king had not gone back to Tingis, so he decided to be close by, putting himself between my king and any embassage from Gaius Marius by road or by sea. And he sent one of his greatest barons, Aspar, to sit by my king's right hand and listen to all congress between my king and the expected Romans."

"I see," said Sulla. "What's to do, then?"

"Tomorrow Prince Volux will escort you into my king's presence as if you have ridden together from Icosium— Aspar did not see the prince come in tonight, fortunately. You will speak to my king as if you had come from Gaius Marius at the order of Gaius Marius, rather than at my king's behest. You will ask my king to abandon Jugurtha, and my king will refuse, but in a prevaricating way. He will order you to camp nearby for ten days while he thinks about what you have said. You will go to that camp and wait. However, my king will come to see you privately tomorrow night at a different place, and then you can talk together without fear." Dabar looked at Sulla keenly. "Is that satisfactory, Lucius Cornelius?"

"Entirely," said Sulla, yawning mightily. "The only problem is, where can I stay tonight, and where can I find a bath? I stink of horse, and there are things crawling in my crotch."

"Volux has had a comfortable camp pitched for you not far away," said Dabar.

"Then lead me to it," said Sulla, getting to his feet.

The next day Sulla went through his farcical interview with Bocchus. It wasn't difficult to tell which one of the nobles present was Jugurtha's spy, Aspar; he stood on the left of Bocchus's majestic chair—far more majestic than its occupant—and nobody ventured near him nor looked at him with the ease of long familiarity.

"What am I to do, Lucius Cornelius?" wailed Bocchus that night after dark, meeting Sulla undetected at a distance from both his camp and Sulla's.

"A favor for Rome," said Sulla.

"Just tell me what favor Rome wants, and it shall be done! Gold—jewels—land—soldiers—cavalry—wheat— only name it, Lucius Cornelius! You're a Roman, you must know what the Senate's cryptic message means! For I swear I do not!" Bocchus quivered in fear.

"Every commodity you have named, Rome can find without being cryptic, King Bocchus," said Sulla scornfully.

"Then
what!
Only tell me what!" pleaded Bocchus.

"I think you must already have worked it out for yourself, King Bocchus. But you won't admit that," said Sulla. "I can understand why.
Jugurtha!
Rome wants you to hand Jugurtha over to Rome peacefully, bloodlessly. Too much blood has already been shed in Africa, too much land torn up, too many towns and villages burned, too much wealth frittered away. But while ever Jugurtha continues at large, this terrible waste will go on. Crippling Numidia, inconveniencing Rome—and crippling Mauretania too. So give me Jugurtha, King Bocchus!"

"You ask me to betray my son-in-law, the father of my grandchildren, my kinsman through Masinissa's blood?"

"I do indeed," said Sulla.

Bocchus began to weep. "I cannot! Lucius Cornelius, I cannot! We are Berber as well as Punic, the law of the tented people binds us both. Anything, Lucius Cornelius, I will do
anything
to earn that treaty! Anything, that is, except betray my daughter's husband."

"Anything else is unacceptable," said Sulla coldly.

"My people would never forgive me!"

"Rome will never forgive you. And that is worse."

"I cannot!" Bocchus wept, genuine tears wetting his face, glistening amid the strands of his elaborately curled beard. "Please, Lucius Cornelius, please! I cannot!"

Sulla turned his back contemptuously. "Then there will never be a treaty," he said.

And each day for the next eight days the farce continued, Aspar and Dabar riding back and forth between Sulla's pleasant little camp and the King's pavilion, bearing messages which bore no relation to the real issue. That remained a secret between Sulla and Bocchus, and was discussed only in the nights. However, it was plain Volux knew of the real issue, Sulla decided, for Volux now avoided him as much as possible, and whenever he did see him looked angry, hurt, baffled.

Sulla was enjoying himself, discovering that he liked the sensation of power and majesty being Rome's envoy gave him; and more than that, enjoyed being the relentless drip of water that wore down this so-called royal stone. He, who was no king, yet had dominion over kings. He, a Roman, had the real power. And it was heady, enormously satisfying.

On the eighth night, Bocchus summoned Sulla to the secret meeting place.

"All right, Lucius Cornelius, I agree," said the King, his eyes red from weeping.

"Excellent!" said Sulla briskly.

"But how can it be done?"

"Simple," said Sulla. "You send Aspar to Jugurtha and offer to betray me to him." ,

"He won't believe me," said Bocchus desolately.

"Certainly he will! Take my word for it, he will. If the circumstances were different, it's precisely what you might be doing, King."

"But you're only a quaestor!"

Sulla laughed. "What, are you trying to say that you do not think a Roman quaestor is as valuable as a Numidian king?"

"No! No, of course not!"

"Let me explain, King Bocchus," said Sulla gently. "I am a Roman quaestor, and it is true that all the title signifies in Rome is the lowest man on the senatorial ladder. However, I am also a patrician Cornelius—my family is the family of Scipio Africanus and Scipio Aemilianus, and my bloodline is far older, far nobler than either yours or Jugurtha's. If Rome was ruled by kings, those kings would probably be members of the Cornelian family. And—last but by no means least—I happen to be Gaius Marius's brother-in-law. Our children are first cousins. Does that make it more understandable?"

"Jugurtha—does Jugurtha know all this?" whispered the King of Mauretania.

"There's very little escapes Jugurtha," Sulla said, and sat back, and waited.

"Very well, Lucius Cornelius, it shall be as you say. I will send Aspar to Jugurtha and offer to betray you." The King drew himself up, dignity a little threadbare. "However, you must tell me exactly how I am to go about it."

Sulla leaned forward and spoke crisply. "You will ask for Jugurtha to come here the night after next, and promise him that you will hand over to him the Roman quaestor Lucius Cornelius Sulla. You will inform him that this quaestor is alone in your camp, endeavoring to persuade you to ally yourself with Gaius Marius. He knows it to be true, because Aspar has been reporting to him. He also knows there are no Roman soldiers within a hundred miles, so he won't bother to bring his army with him. And he thinks he knows you, King Bocchus. So he won't dream that it is he who will be yielded up rather than me." Sulla pretended not to see Bocchus wince. "It's not you or your army Jugurtha is afraid of. He's only afraid of Gaius Marius. Rest assured, he'll come, and he'll come believing every word Aspar tells him."

"But what will I do when Jugurtha never returns to his own camp?" asked Bocchus, shivering anew.

Sulla smiled a nasty smile. "I strongly recommend, King Bocchus, that the moment you have turned Jugurtha over to me, you strike camp and march for Tingis as fast as you can."

"But won't you need my army to keep Jugurtha prisoner?" The King stared at Sulla, palpitating; never was a man more patently terrified. "You have no men to help you take him to Icosium! And his camp is there in between."

"All I want is a good set of manacles and chains, and six of your fastest horses," said Sulla.

*     *     *

Sulla found himself looking forward to the confrontation, and did not experience one twinge of self-doubt or trepidation. Yes, it would be his name linked to the capture of Jugurtha forever! Little matter that he acted under Gaius Marius's orders; it was his valor and intelligence and initiative which effected the deed, and that could not be taken away from him. Not that he thought Gaius Marius would try to take the credit. Gaius Marius wasn't greedy for glory, he knew he had more than his fair share. And he would not oppose the leaking of the story of Jugurtha's capture. For a patrician, the kind of personal fame necessary to ensure election as consul was hampered by the fact that a patrician could not be a tribune of the plebs. Therefore a patrician had to find other ways of earning approbation, making sure the electorate knew he was a worthy scion of his family. Jugurtha had cost Rome dearly. And all of Rome would know that it was Lucius Cornelius Sulla, indefatigable quaestor, who had single-handedly achieved the capture of Jugurtha.

So when he joined Bocchus to go to the appointed place, he was confident, exhilarated, eager to get it done.

"Jugurtha isn't going to expect to see you in chains," said Bocchus. "He's under the impression that you've asked to see him, with the intention of persuading him to surrender. And he has instructed
me
to bring sufficient men to make you captive, Lucius Cornelius."

"Good," said Sulla shortly.

When Bocchus rode in with Sulla beside him and a strong troop of Moorish cavalry at his back, Jugurtha was waiting, escorted only by a handful of his barons, including Aspar.

Pricking his mount, Sulla forged ahead of Bocchus and trotted straight to Jugurtha, then slid to the ground and held out his hand in the universal gesture of peace and friendship.

"King Jugurtha," he said, and waited.

Jugurtha looked down at the hand, then dismounted to take hold of it. "Lucius Cornelius."

While this was going on, the Moorish cavalry had silently formed a ring around the central participants, and while Sulla and Jugurtha stood with hands joined, the capture of Jugurtha was effected as neatly and smoothly as even Gaius Marius could have wished. The Numidian barons were overcome without a sword being drawn; Jugurtha was taken too firmly to struggle, and borne to the ground. When he was set upon his feet again, he wore heavy manacles on both wrists and ankles, all connected to chains just long enough to permit that he shuffle along bowed over in a crouch.

His eyes, Sulla noted in the torchlight, were very pale in so dark a man; he was big too, and well preserved. But his years sat heavily upon his beaky face, so he looked much older than Gaius Marius. Sulla knew he could manage to get him as far as he had to without an escort.

"Put him up on the big bay," he instructed Bocchus's men, and stood watching closely as the chains were snapped to special loops on the modified saddle. Then he checked the girth and the locks. After that he accepted a hoist up onto another bay, and took the bridle of Jugurtha's horse, and secured it to his own saddle; if Jugurtha took it into his head to kick his mount into bolting, it would have no leeway, nor could the reins be wrested from Sulla. The four spare mounts were tethered together and tied by a fairly short line to Jugurtha's saddle. He was now doubly handicapped. And finally, to make absolutely sure, another length of chain was snapped to Jugurtha's right wrist's manacle, and its other end was fastened to a manacle on Sulla's own left wrist.

Sulla had said not a word to the Moors from the time Jugurtha was taken; now, still silent, he kicked his horse and rode off, Jugurtha's horse following docilely enough as the reins and the chain linking him to Sulla drew taut. The four spare horses followed. And in very few moments all the mounts had disappeared into the shadows between the trees.

Bocchus wept. Volux and Dabar watched helplessly.

"Father, let me catch him!" pleaded Volux suddenly. "He can't travel fast so trammeled—I can catch him!"

"It is too late." Taking the fine handkerchief his servant gave him, King Bocchus dried his eyes and blew his nose. "He will never let himself be caught, that one. We are as helpless babes compared to Lucius Cornelius Sulla, who is a Roman. No, my son, poor Jugurtha's fate is out of our hands. We have Mauretania to think of. It's time to go home to our beloved Tingis. Perhaps we don't belong in the world of the Middle Sea."

For perhaps a mile Sulla rode without speaking or letting his pace slacken. All his jubilance, his fantastic pleasure in his own brilliance, he kept as tightly reined as he did his prisoner, Jugurtha. Yes, if he did the dissemination properly, and without detracting from the achievements of Gaius Marius, the story of his capture of Jugurtha would join those other wonderful stories mothers told their children—the leap of young Marcus Curtius into the chasm in the Forum Romanum, the heroism of Horatius Cocles when he held the Wooden Bridge against Lars Porsenna of Clusium, the drawing of the circle around the King of Syria's feet by Gaius Popillius Laenas, the killing of his treasonous sons by Lucius Junius Brutus, the killing of Spurius Maelius the would-be King of Rome by Gaius Servilius Ahala—yes, the capture of Jugurtha by Lucius Cornelius Sulla would join all those and many more bedtime stories, for it had all the necessary elements, including the ride through the middle of Jugurtha's camp.