The Pillars of Rome (14 page)

No army that Lucius marched with had ever
wanted for anything in the way of supplies and in the process of procurement, bargaining and arguing, he had honed those skills that made his movement into a life of politics seamless. He had filled every public office on the
cursus honarium
with the same efficiency he had shown in the army and much of the subsequent years were spent apart as Aulus pursued his military career in various outposts of the empire. Yet when they had met, their attachment to each other had seemed as strong as ever, with Lucius aiding Aulus to follow him into the various offices of state, and to have such service returned with unstinting political support. They had even served as consuls together, with Lucius, the senior, content to let his friend garner the glory of his Macedonian campaign, while he stayed at home, as he put it, minding the shop.

Recalling that, and what had happened so recently in the streets of Rome, Aulus wondered if others, even Lucius, saw how shaky was the edifice they supported, the Imperium of the Republic. Was it merely vouchsafed to fighting soldiers, looking inward from distant frontiers, to observe that if the centre did not hold, nothing else could be retained; that the whole empire could crumble over disputes between internal political factions? His mind turned back to the Celtic chieftain whom he had so recently defeated. Let a man like Brennos loose in a world in turmoil and there would be no end to the
mischief he could make. He certainly made enough in the Cornelii household and in a swift, angry movement, he pulled himself off the couch.

‘I shall go to bed, Cholon.’

‘Yes, master.’

But he did not sleep, for Aulus had two unpleasant tasks to perform in the morning, one that would, he hoped, protect Lucius and settle the present rumblings surrounding the murder of Tiberius Livonius. But the other was the harder, and had only been decided as he made his way home from his visit to the Falerii house. His friend had made his oath of innocence and Aulus was satisfied, but Lucius seemed unaware that even if he was guilt-free his own actions had engendered an atmosphere in which such a heinous crime could take place. That threatened the very foundations of the Republic. Aulus would not be part of such a thing and he knew he needed to find an avenue by which that could, publicly, be made plain.

CHAPTER NINE

Lucius was at his desk before cockcrow, reading the various missives that had come in during the night. The system of mounted messengers that traversed the empire was one of the pillars of Roman control, giving the reigning consuls the ability to act swiftly in the event of an emergency. That, added to the reports from the governors of the various provinces, gave whoever sat in his place a very comprehensive view of their responsibilities. The thought that this was so made him smile, for it seemed he often knew more of what took place on the frontiers than in the houses of his political enemies, some a mere stone’s throw from his front gate. Even his friends could mystify him, the behaviour of Aulus Cornelius being just one example. After a good night’s sleep he had no doubt there was a deeper motive behind what had taken place the previous evening, something that he could not see? To Lucius, Aulus was a brilliant man in command of legions;
certainly a good administrator and a supportive junior consul, but not in the least deep and calculating. Aulus would struggle to hatch a plot, never mind execute one.

Yet the possibility existed that after all these years he had been wrong in his assessment; that this simple soldier was in fact devious enough not only to betray him but to do so in a manner that left him perplexed. If only Aulus had been in Rome when he should have been, perhaps he could have routed the Livonian faction on the floor of the Senate. Was his old friend actually not, in part, responsible for what had happened? That thought suddenly seemed absurd; if Aulus had been close he would have had to put aside any thought of killing Livonius until he was out of the city; that well-known Cornelii piety would have been a burden, not an asset.

He sighed at his own folly as he picked up the last report but one from the pile on his desk. This told him that the provincial governor of Illyricum had fallen seriously ill at the port of Brindisium on the way to take up his duties; if the man failed to recover he would have to find a replacement prepared to leave immediately. That should not present much in the way of difficulty, the governorship being an opportunity to profit both in money and reputation. Certain sections of the province, particularly the coastal strip of Dalmatia,
were as peaceful as Italy, but inland, in the mountainous terrain, the tribes needed no Romans to provoke a fight. Blood feuds abounded, the original reasons long since overlaid with added death and destruction. Illyricum also had, to the west, a long porous border, constantly raided by the Celtic tribes of Dacia, so keeping the peace was never easy. Yet it was a land full of fertile valleys, which produced an abundance of valuable crops if order could be maintained and the mining concessions in the mountains were equally profitable, so that the tax revenue was substantial, as was the gubernatorial reward. It would not be a hard office to fill.

Lifting that missive had uncovered the last item, the initial reports his steward had produced regarding Aulus Cornelius. They were slim indeed; the man had been unable to find out anything of interest. Still more time would surely produce the information he required, even if he now wondered if it would be worth the effort. Lucius snapped himself out of this reverie. He had to attend the Senate in a few hours, accompanied by his oldest friend. It would be an important day and if in the unlikely event that outright duplicity was in the air, then he would know before the sun reached its zenith.

The session started in total uproar, with no senator, it seemed, prepared to yield the floor to another. Scrolls were waved in furious disagreement, or used as pointers to exaggerate a particular insult. Lucius, with an equally silent Aulus by his side, watched this mayhem with a jaundiced eye, for he had the power to quell this, merely by getting to his feet. His adherents would fall silent from respect, the undecided from curiosity, even his enemies would cease prattling for the mere prospect of hearing the lies they suspected would emerge. Much as he hated disorder, the present display suited his purpose, for one thing Lucius knew about his fellow legislators was their fear of public turbulence. No matter how bad matters became inside the Curia Hostilia they would close ranks to ensure that such disputes did not spread to incite a public riot, something too easy to ignite in the crowded tenements of the city.

Rome’s population had expanded alarmingly. Rootless peasants from all over Italy formed a discontented body, denied political rights by their lack of citizenship, willing to follow any leader who promised to alleviate their grievances. But worse than the mob were the citizen farmers, unable to sustain themselves on the land, many soldiers ruined by long service in the legions. They too had come to the city, drawn at first by the corn dole that the plebeian tribune had introduced and this, in turn, had swelled the numbers in the thirty-six
tribes that formed the Comitia, making what had been an easily controlled voting body exceedingly unruly. Since the whole structure of political power rested on that assembly of Roman citizens, keeping it’s members from mischief was of paramount concern. Once out of control, the whole nature of the way Rome was governed could be altered.

Aulus Cornelius was as aware of that as anyone; the Republic was a fragile concept, always vulnerable, and becoming more so. It required virtue to be the abiding rule of public office, yet that was the one thing that was becoming increasingly rare, ruined by captured wealth, some of which he had had a hand in providing. The whole Mediterranean littoral sent riches to the city, either in cash tribute, taxes, or as gifts of necessity, the cheap grain that supported the corn dole being the most obvious. Senators, knights and astute businessmen had grown rich beyond the dreams of avarice; he had himself by his conquests, and more of his time was taken up lending money at decent rates of interest than worrying about it, or husbanding his slave-holdings to manipulate the market for the best price. Yet they sat above a volcano of dearth and the gap between those who had and those who lacked was getting wider, loosing the bonds that held the state together.

Things were becoming acceptable that would once have been deemed heinous; should it be that
the murder of public officials, hitherto a blasphemy, become everyday, then Rome was doomed. Aulus got to his feet, his eyes ranging round the chamber with a cold stare that silenced his excited peers one by one. No one could doubt as he stood there the degree of his gravitas, for, as still as one of the statues that lined the Sacred Way, he had an abundance of presence. The physical aspect, his height, his dark colouring with hair greying at the temples, the strong features of his handsome face were only part of that. Power emanated from him in such a way that it was easy to comprehend how he could command legions, control a battle and demonstrate to his troops that he was as brave as the most courageous of the men he led.

It was odd how small Lucius looked beside him, hunched forward, legs crossed, hand supporting his chin, eyes hooded as if content to merely listen. He was sitting of course, which exaggerated the contrast between the two men, yet even standing Aulus would have dominated the assembly by his physicality. It was an interesting thought for those who cared to consider it; that for all his impressive carriage, Aulus, without an army at his back, had little power, while for all his present hunched insignificance, Lucius on his own had a great deal, which would colour the way they listened to what this speaker had to say. Here was a man to be respected, but not a man to be feared.

Determined to exert total control, Aulus let the hush persist, waiting for a full minute before commencing his speech. Those who had not guessed his intention to defend Lucius must have sensed it now; the way they had entered the chamber arm in arm, the stillness they had displayed during the unruly debate, should have alerted all to the fact that Aulus was set to pre-empt an accusation and face the matter of Lucius’s guilt head on. That someone so patently upright chose to do so should be enough to sway a great number of the uncommitted. Senators who, moments before, might just as easily have joined in a clamour that would have seen Lucius Falerius impeached, now sat in silent anticipation.

‘It is the nature of debates in this house to allow us to indulge in rhetoric, to demonstrate our skills in those arts which raise a man above the common herd and excite admiration in his contemporaries. I now ask that you indulge me for not attaining the desired standard for, in what I am about to say to the Senate, and considering the gravity of recent events, such delicate methods of speech are inappropriate.’

A buzz ran around the chamber, which died as Aulus held up his hand. ‘A noble Roman, a good and honest citizen, a member of this august body, was cruelly murdered three nights past. In the annals of crimes against the state it ranks amongst
the worst, equal to the tyranny of the despised Tarquin kings who built this very Curia in which we speak as free men.’

Only those few who were watching Lucius saw his fingers take a tighter grip on the scroll in his hand as he lifted his head and squared his shoulders. No one was close enough to see the way his eyes dilated – either from fear or anger – nor observe the effort it took for him to produce a relaxed smile. He was determined to face them, to look anyone who wanted to accuse him in the eye, so he uncrossed his legs and sat forward, as if prepared to leap to his feet and demand the floor. But he didn’t; he merely listened as Aulus continued.

‘Yet from things that I hear, sordid rumours bandied about by dim-witted peasants, there is a demand to compound this crime by committing one that is even worse. What could be less becoming to the supreme judicial body of the Republic than this; that the death of one upright man should be followed by the disgrace of someone of equal stature. Rumours abound that one of our number has taken a political difference and transformed it into a criminal act. Rumours, fellow senators, levelled against Lucius Falerius Nerva.’