The First Man in Rome (99 page)

Metrobius pulled a face. "I understand."

"Are you still in the theater?"

"Of course. Acting's all I know. Besides, Scylax was a good teacher, give him his due. So I don't lack parts, and I don't rest very often." He cleared his throat and looked a little self-conscious. "The only change is, I've become serious."

"Serious?"

"That's right. It turned out, you see, that I didn't have the true comedic touch. I was all right when I was a child star, but once I grew out of the Cupid's wings and the mirthful imps, I discovered my real talent lay in tragedy, not comedy. So now I play Aeschylus and Accius instead of Aristophanes and Plautus. I don't repine."

Sulla shrugged. "Oh well, at least that means I'll be able to go to the theater without betraying myself because you're there playing the hapless ingenue. Are you a citizen?"

"No, alas."

"I'll see what I can do." Sighing, Sulla put his goblet down and folded his hands together like a banker. "Let us meet by all means—but not too often—and never again here. I have a rather mad wife whom I can't trust."

"It would be wonderful if we could meet occasionally."

"Do you have a reasonably private place of your own, or are you still living with Scylax?"

Metrobius looked surprised. "I thought you knew! But of course, how could you, when it's years since you've lived in Rome? Scylax died six months ago. And he left me everything he owned, including his apartment."

"Then that's where we'll meet." Sulla got up. "Come, I'll show you out myself. And I'll enroll you as my client, so that if you should ever need to come here, you'll have a valid reason for doing so. I'll send a note to your place before I call round."

A kiss looked out of the beautiful dark eyes when they parted at the outside door, but nothing was said, and nothing done to indicate to either the hovering steward or the door porter that the amazingly good-looking young man was anything more than a new client from the old days.

"Give my love to everyone, Metrobius."

"I daresay you won't be in Rome for the theatrical games?"

"Afraid not," said Sulla, smiling casually. "Germans."

And so they parted, just as Marcia came down the street shepherding the children and their nanny. Sulla waited for her and acted as porter himself.

"Marcia, come into my study, please."

Eyes wary, she sidled into the room ahead of him and went to the couch, where, Sulla saw with horror, there was a wet patch glaring at him like a beacon.

"In the chair, if you don't mind," he said.

She sat down, glowering at him with her chin up and her mouth set hard.

"Mother-in-law, I'm well aware that you don't like me, and I have no intention of trying to woo you," Sulla began, making sure he appeared at his ease, unworried. "I didn't ask you to come and live here because I liked you, either. My concern was for my children. It still is. And I mustthank you with all my heart for your good offices there. You've done a wonderful job in caring for them. They're little Romans again."

She thawed a little. "I'm glad you think so."

"In consequence, the children are no longer my main worry. Julilla is. I heard your altercation with her this morning."

"The whole world heard it!" snapped Marcia.

"Yes, that's true... " He sighed heavily. "After you took the children out, she had an altercation with me which the whole world also heard—or at least heard her half of it. I wondered if you had any idea what we can do."

"Unfortunately not enough people know she drinks to divorce her on those grounds, which are really your only grounds," said Marcia, knowing full well she had concealed it. "I think you just have to be patient. Her drinking is increasing, I won't be able to hide it for much longer. The moment it's general knowledge, you can put her away without condemnation," said Julilla's mother.

"What if that stage should arrive while I'm away?"

"I'm her mother; I can put her away. If it happens in your absence, I'll send her to your villa at Circei. Then when you return, you can divorce her and shut her up elsewhere. In time she'll drink herself to death." Marcia got up, anxious to be gone, and giving no hint as to the degree of pain she felt. "I do not like you, Lucius Cornelius," she said, "but I do not blame you for Julilla's plight."

"Do you like any of your in-laws?" he asked.

She snorted. "Only Aurelia."

He walked out into the atrium with her. "I wonder where Julilla is?" he asked, suddenly realizing that he had neither heard nor seen her since the arrival of Metrobius. A frisson of alarm skimmed up his spine.

"Lying in wait for one or the other of us, I imagine," she said. ' 'Once she starts the day with a quarrel, she usually continues to quarrel until she becomes so drunk she passes out."

Sulla's distaste pulled his lips down. "I haven't seen her since she ran out of my study. An old friend called to see me not a moment later, and I was just letting him out when you came back with the children."

"She's not normally so backward," said Marcia, and looked at the steward. "Have you seen your mistress?" she asked.

"The last I did see of her, she was going into her sleeping cubicle," he said. "Shall I ask her maid?" ,

"No, don't bother." Marcia glanced sideways at Sulla. "I think we ought to see her together right now, Lucius Cornelius. Maybe if we tell her what will happen unless she pulls herself out of her pigsty, she might see reason."

And so they found Julilla, twisted and still. Her fine woolen draperies had acted like a blotter and soaked up much of the blood, so that she was clad in wet, rusting scarlet, a Nereid out of some volcano.

Marcia clutched at Sulla's arm, staggering; he put the arm about her and held her upright.

But Quintus Marcius Rex's daughter made the effort and brought herself under iron control. "This is one solution I did not expect," she said levelly.

"Nor I," said Sulla, used to slaughter.

"What
did
you say to her?"

Sulla shook his head. "Nothing to provoke this, as far as I can remember—we can probably find out from the servants; they heard her half of it at least."

"No, I do not think it advisable to ask them," Marcia said, and turned suddenly within Sulla's arm, seeking shelter against his body. "In many ways, Lucius Cornelius, this is the best solution of all. I'd rather the children suffered the shock of her death than the slow disillusionment of her drinking. They're young enough to forget now. But any later, and they'd remember." She laid her cheek against Sulla's chest. "Yes, it's by far the best way." A tear oozed beneath her closed eyelid.

"Come, I'll take you to your room," he said, guiding her out of the blood-drenched cubicle.  “I never even thought of my sword, fool that I am!"

"Why should you?"

"Hindsight," said Sulla, who knew exactly why Julilla had found his sword and used it; she had looked through his study windows at his reunion with Metrobius. Marcia was right. This was the best way by far. And
he
hadn't had to do it.

6

The magic hadn't failed; when the consular  elections were held just after the new tribunes of the plebs entered office on the tenth day of December, Gaius Marius was returned as the senior consul. For no one could disbelieve the testimony of Lucius Cornelius Sulla, nor Saturninus's contention that there was still only one man capable of beating the Germans. The old German-mania rushed back into Rome like the Tiber in full spate, and once again Sicily faded from first place in the list of crises which never, never seemed to grow any less in number.

"For as fast as we eliminate one, a new one pops up out of nowhere," said Marcus Aemilius Scaurus to Quintus Caecilius Metellus Numidicus Piggle-wiggle.

"Including Sicily," said Lucullus's brother-in-law with venom in his voice. "How
could
Gaius Marius lend his support to that
pipinna
Ahenobarbus when he insisted Lucius Lucullus must be replaced as governor of Sicily? By
Servilius the Augur,
of all people! He's nothing but a New Man skulking in the guise of an old name!"

" He was tweaking your tail, Quintus Caecilius,'' Scaurus said. "Gaius Marius doesn't give a counterfeit coin who governs Sicily, not now that the Germans are definitely coming. If you wanted Lucius Lucullus to remain there, you would have done better to have kept quiet; then Gaius Marius wouldn't have remembered that you and Lucius Lucullus matter to each other.''

"The senatorial rolls need a stern eye to look them over," said Numidicus. "I shall stand for censor!"

"Good thinking! Who with?"

"My cousin Caprarius."

"Oh, more good thinking, by Venus! He'll do exactly as you tell him."

"It's time we weeded the Senate out, not to mention the knights. I shall be a stringent censor, Marcus Aemilius, have no fear!" said Numidicus. "Saturninus is going, and so is Glaucia. They're dangerous men."

"Oh, don't!" cried Scaurus, flinching.  "If I hadn't falsely accused him of peculation in grain, he might have turned into a different kind of politician. I can never rid myself of guilt about Lucius Appuleius."

Numidicus raised his brows. "My dear Marcus Aemilius, you are in strong need of a tonic! What if anything caused that wolfshead Saturninus to act the way he does is immaterial. All that matters at this present moment is that he is what he is. And he has to go." He blew through his nostrils angrily. "We are not finished as a force in this city yet," he said. "And at least this coming year Gaius Marius is saddled with a real man as his colleague, instead of those straw men Fimbria and Orestes. We'll make sure Quintus Lutatius is put into the field with an army, and every tiny success Quintus Lutatius has with his army, we'll trumpet through Rome like triumphs."

For the electorate had also voted in Quintus Lutatius Catulus Caesar as consul, junior to Marius admittedly, but, "A thorn in my side," said Marius.

"Your young brother's in as a praetor," said Sulla.

"And going to Further Spain, nicely out of the way."

They caught up with Marcus Aemilius Scaurus, who had parted company with Numidicus at the bottom of the Senate steps.

"I must thank you personally for your industry and enterprise in the matter of the grain supply," said Marius civilly.

"As long as there's wheat to be bought somewhere in the world, Gaius Marius, it's not a very difficult job," said Scaurus, also civilly. "What worries me is the day when there's no wheat to be had anywhere."

"Not likely at the moment, surely! Sicily will be back to normal next harvest, I imagine."

Scaurus struck immediately. "Provided, that is, we don't lose everything we've gained once that prating fool Servilius Augur takes office as governor!" he said tartly.

"The war in Sicily is over," said Marius.

"You'd better hope so, consul. I'm not so sure."

"And where have you been getting the wheat these past two years?" Sulla asked hastily, to avert an open disagreement.

"Asia Province," said Scaurus, willing enough to be sidetracked, for he genuinely did love being
curator annonae,
the custodian of the grain supply.

"But surely they don't grow much surplus?" prompted Sulla.

"Hardly a
modius,
as a matter of fact," said Scaurus smugly. "No, we can thank King Mithridates of Pontus. He's very young, but he's mighty enterprising. Having conquered all of the northern parts of the Euxine Sea and gained control of the grainlands of the Tanais, the Borysthenes, the Hypanis, and the Danastris, he's making a very nice additional income for Pontus by shipping this Cimmerian surplus down to Asia Province, and selling it to us. What's more, I'm going to follow my instincts, and buy again in Asia Province next year. Young Marcus Livius Drusus is going as quaestor to Asia, and I've commissioned him to act for me in the matter.''

Marius grunted. "No doubt he'll visit his father-in-law, Quintus Servilius Caepio, in Smyrna while he's there?"

"No doubt," said Scaurus blandly.

"Then have young Marcus Livius send the bills for the grain to Quintus Servilius Caepio," said Marius. "He's got more money to pay for it than the Treasury has!"

"That's an unfounded allegation."

"Not according to King Copillus."

An uneasy, silence fell for a simmering moment before Sulla said, "How much of that Asian grain reaches us, Marcus Aemilius? I hear the pirate problem grows worse every year."

"About half, no more," Scaurus said grimly. "Every hidden cove and harbor on the Pamphylian and Cilician coasts shelters pirates. Of course by trade they're slavers, but if they can steal grain to feed the slaves they steal, then they're sure of huge profits, aren't they? And whatever grain they have left over, they sell back to us at twice the price we originally paid for it, if for no other reason than they guarantee it will reach us without being pirated—again.

"Amazing," said Marius, "that even among pirates there are middlemen. Because that's what they are! Steal it, then sell it back to us. Pure profit. It's time we did something, Princeps Senatus, isn't it?"

"It certainly is," said Scaurus fervently.

"What do you suggest?"

"A special commission for one of the praetors—a roving governorship, if there is such an animal. Give him ships and marines, and charge him with flushing out every nest of pirates along the whole Pamphylian and Cilician coast," said Scaurus.

"We could call him the governor of Cilicia," said Marius.

"What a good idea!"

"All right, Princeps Senatus, let's call the Conscript Fathers together as soon as possible, and do it."

"Let's," said Scaurus, oozing charity. "You know, Gaius Marius, I may loathe everything you stand for, but I do love your capacity to act without turning the whole business into a new set of circus games."

"The Treasury will scream like a Vestal invited to dinner in a brothel," said Marius, grinning.

"Let it! If we don't eradicate the pirates, trade between East and West will cease to be. Ships and marines," said Scaurus thoughtfully. "How many, do you think?"

"Oh, eight or ten full fleets, and, say—ten thousand trained marines. If we have that many," said Marius.

"We can get them," Scaurus said confidently. "If necessary we can hire some at least from Rhodes, Halicarnassus, Cnidus, Athens, Ephesus—don't worry, we'll find them."

"It ought to be Marcus Antonius," said Marius.

"What, not your own brother?" asked Scaurus, aping surprise.

But Marius grinned, unruffled. "Like me, Marcus Aemilius, my brother Marcus Marius is a landlubber. Where all the Antonii like going to sea."

Scaurus laughed. "When they're not all
at
sea!"

"True. But he's all right, our praetor Marcus Antonius. He'll do the job, I think."

"I think he will too."

"And in the meantime," said Sulla, smiling, "the Treasury is going to be so busy whining and complaining about Marcus Aemilius's grain purchases and pirate chasers that it won't even notice how much money it's paying out for Head Count armies. Because Quintus Lutatius will have to enlist a Head Count army too."

"Oh, Lucius Cornelius, you've been too long in the service of Gaius Marius!" said Scaurus.

"I was thinking the same thing," said Marius unexpectedly. But more than that he would not say.

Sulla and Marius left for Gaul-across-the-Alps late in February, having dealt with the obsequies and aftermath of Julilla; Marcia had agreed to remain in Sulla's house to look after the children for the time being.

"But," she said in minatory tones, "you can't expect me to be here forever, Lucius Cornelius. Now that I'm getting into my fifties, I have a fancy to move to the Campanian coast. My bones don't like the damp city weather. You had better marry again, give those children a proper mother and some half brothers or half sisters to play with.''

"It will have to wait until the Germans are dealt with," Sulla said, trying to keep his voice courteous.

"Well, all right then, after the Germans," said Marcia.

"Two years hence," he warned.

"Two?
One, surely!"

"Perhaps, though I doubt it. Plan on two, Mother-in-law."

"Not a moment longer, Lucius Cornelius."

Sulla looked at her, one brow lifting quizzically. "You had better start looking for a suitable wife for me."

"Are you joking?"

"No, I'm not joking!" Sulla cried, his patience worn a trifle thin of late. "How do you think I can go away to fight the Germans and also look inside Rome for a new wife? If you want to move out as soon as I'm home, then you'd better have a wife picked out and willing to be picked out."

"What sort of wife?"

"I don't care! Just make sure she'll be kind to my little ones," said Sulla.

For this and other reasons, Sulla was very glad to leave Rome. The longer he remained there, the greater became his hunger to see Metrobius, and the more he saw Metrobius, the more he suspected he would want to see Metrobius. Nor could he exert the same influence and control over the grownMetrobius that he had over the boy; Metrobius was now of an age to feel that he too had something to say about how the relationship was to progress. Yes, it was best to be far from Rome! Only his children would he miss, dear little people they were. Enchanting. Utterly, uncritically loving. He would be away for many moons, but the moment he reappeared, they welcomed him with open arms and millions of kisses. Why shouldn't adult love be like that? But the answer, he thought, was simple. Adult love was too concerned with self and with thinking.

Sulla and Marius had left the junior consul, Quintus Lutatius Catulus Caesar, in the throes of recruiting another army, and complaining loudly because it would have to be Head Count in composition.

"Of course it has to be Head Count!" said Marius shortly. "And don't come grizzling and mewling to me about it— it wasn't I lost eighty thousand soldiers at Arausio, nor any of the rest we've wasted in battle!"

That of course shut Catulus Caesar up, but in a tight-lipped, aristocratic way.

"I wish you wouldn't cast the crimes of his own sort in his face," said Sulla.

"Then let him stop casting the Head Count in my face!" growled Marius.

Sulla gave up.

Luckily things in Gaul were very much as they ought to be; Manius Aquillius had kept the army in good condition with more construction of bridges and aqueducts and plenty of drills. Quintus Sertorius had come back, but then returned to the Germans because, he said, he could be of better use there; he would go with the Cimbri on their trek, and report to Marius whenever he could. And the troops were beginning to quiver with eager anticipation at the thought that this year they'd see action.

That year should have seen an extra February intercalated—inserted—into the calendar, but the difference between the old Pontifex Maximus, Dalmaticus, and Ahenobarbus, the new, now showed itself: Ahenobarbus could see no virtue in keeping the calendar in time with the seasons. So when the calendar March came around, it was still winter, for the calendar now began to move ahead of the actual seasons. In a year of only 355 days, an extra 20-day month had to be intercalated each two years, traditionally at the end of February. But it was a decision made by the College of Pontifices, and if the members were not kept up to the mark by a conscientious Pontifex Maximus, the calendar fell by the wayside, as it did now.

Happily a letter arrived from Publius Rutilius Rufus not long after Sulla and Marius settled back into the routine of life in an army camp on the far side of the Alps.

This is definitely going to be an event-filled year, so my main problem is knowing where to start. Of course everyone was just waiting for you to get out of the way, and I swear you hadn't got as far as Ocelum before there were mice and rats cavorting all over the lower end of the Forum. What a lovely play they're having, O Cat!

All right then, I'll start with our precious pair of censors, Piggle-wiggle and his tame cousin Billy Goat. Piggle-wiggle has been going about for some time— well, since he was elected, really, only he was careful not to talk in your vicinity—saying that he intends to "purge the Senate," I think he put it.

One thing you can say for them, they're not going to be a venal pair of censors, so all the State contracts will be gone into properly, and let according to price combined with merit. However, they've antagonized the Treasury already by demanding a large sum of money to repair and redecorate some of the temples not rich enough to pay themselves, not to mention fresh paint and marble latrine benches in the three State houses of the major
flamines,
also the houses of the Rex Sacrorum and the Pontifex Maximus. Personally I like my wooden latrine bench. Marble is so cold and hard! There was quite a lively little squabble when Piggle-wiggle mentioned the Domus Publicus of the Pontifex Maximus, the Treasury being of the opinion that our new P.M. is rich enough to donate paint and marble latrine benches.