The Grass Crown by Colleen McCullough

  Drusus watched Marius walk from the place where his stool sat to the center of the floor. His heart, that organ he had thought to have died inside him when his wife died, was beating fast. Herein lay the only chance. Oh, Gaius Marius, little though I like you as a man, Drusus said within himself, say now what I would say, did I only have the right to speak! For if you do not, no one will. No one.

  "I can see,'' said Marius strongly,'' that this is a carefully planned piece of legislation. As one would expect from two of our finest legal draftsmen. It requires but one more thing to make it watertight, and that is a clause paying a reward to any man who comes forward as an informant. Yes, an admirable piece of legislation! But is it a just law? Ought we not to concern ourselves with that aspect above all others? And, even more to the point, do we genuinely consider ourselves powerful enough, arrogant enough—-dim-witted enough!—to administer the penalties this law carries? From the tenor of Lucius Licinius's speech—not one of his better ones, I add!—there are tens of thousands of these alleged false citizens, scattered from the border of Italian Gaul all the way to Bruttium and Calabria. Men who feel themselves entitled to full participation in the internal affairs and governance of Rome—otherwise, why run the risk of making a false declaration of citizenship? Everyone in Italy knows what such a declaration involves if it is discovered. The flogging, the disbarment, the fine—though usually all three are not levied upon the same man."

  He turned from the right side of the House to the left side, and continued. "But now, Conscript Fathers, it seems we are to visit the full force of retribution upon each and every one of these tens of thousands of men—and their families! We are to flog them. Fine them more than many of them can afford. Put them upon a blacklist. Evict them from their homes if their homes happen to be situated within a Roman or a Latin place."

  Down the length of the House he walked to the open doors, and turned there to face both sides. "Tens of thousands, Conscript Fathers! Not one or two or three or four men, but tens of thousands! And families of sons, daughters, wives, mothers, aunts, uncles, cousins, all adding up to tens of thousands more. They will have friends—even perhaps have friends among those who do legally possess the Roman citizenship or the Latin Rights. Outside the Roman and Latin towns, their own kind will be in the majority. And we, the senators who are chosen—by lot, do you think?—to man these boards of enquiry, are going to listen to the evidence, follow the guidelines for the inquisition of those brought before us, and follow the letter of the lex Licinia Mucia in sentencing those discovered spurious. I applaud those among us brave enough to do our duty—though I, for one, will be pleading another stroke! Or is the lex Licinia Mucia going to provide for armed detachments of militiamen to be in constant attendance upon each and every one of these quaestiones?'

  He began to walk slowly down the floor, continuing to speak as he did so. "Is it really such a crime? To want to be a Roman? It is not much of an exaggeration to say that we rule all of the world that matters. We are accorded every respect, we are deferred to when we travel abroad—even kings back down when we issue orders. The very least man who can call himself a Roman, albeit a member of the Head Count, is better than any other kind of man. Too poor to own a single slave though he may be, he is still and yet a member of the people who rule the world. It endows him with a precious exclusivity no other word than Roman can bestow. Even as he does the menial work his lack of that single slave dictates, still and yet he can say to himself, 'I am a Roman, I am better than the rest of mankind!' "

  Almost upon the tribunician bench, he turned to face the open doors. "Here within the bounds of Italy, we dwell cheek by jowl with men and women who are racially akin to us, even racially the same in many instances. Men and women who have fed us troops and tribute for four hundred years at least, who participate with us in our wars as paying partners. Oh yes, from time to time some of them have rebelled, or aided our enemies, or spoken out against our policies. But for those crimes they have already been punished! Under Roman law we cannot punish them all over again. Can they be blamed for wanting to be Roman? That is the question. Not why they want to be Roman, nor what prompted this recent onslaught of false declarations. Can they truly be blamed?"

  "Yes!" shouted Quintus Servilius Caepio. "Yes! They are our inferiors! Our subjects, not our equals!"

  "Quintus Servilius, you are out of order! Sit down and be silent, or leave this meeting!" thundered Crassus Orator.

  At a pace which enabled him to preserve physical dignity, Gaius Marius rotated to look about him through a full circle, his face deformed further by a bitter grin. "You think you know what I'm going to say, don't you?" he asked the House. Then he laughed aloud. "Gaius Marius the Italian, you are thinking, is going to recommend Rome forget the lex Licinia Mucia, leave those tens of thousands of extra citizens on the rolls." Up flew the brows. "Well, Conscript Fathers, you're wrong! That is not what I advocate. Like you, I do not believe that our suffrage can be demeaned by allowing men to retain registration who lacked the principles to reject illegal enrollment as Romans. What I advocate is that the lex Licinia Mucia proceed with its courts of enquiry as its eminent engineers have outlined—but only up to a certain point. Beyond that point we dare not go further! Every false citizen must be struck from our rolls and ejected from our tribes. That—and nothing else. Nothing else! For I give you solemn warning, Conscript Fathers, Quirites listening at the doors, that the moment you inflict penalties upon these spurious citizens that consist of defilement of their bodies, their homes, their purses, their future progeny, you will sow a crop of hatred and revenge the like of which will give pause to the dragon's teeth! You will reap death, blood, impoverishment, and a loathing which will last for millennia to come! Do not condone what the Italians have tried to do. But do not punish them for trying to do it!"

  Oh, well said, Gaius Marius! thought Drusus, and applauded. Some others applauded too. But most did not, and from outside the doors came rumbles indicating that those who heard in the Forum did not agree with so much clemency.

  Marcus Aemilius Scaurus got up. "May I speak?"

  "You may, Leader of the House," said Crassus Orator.

  Though he and Gaius Marius were the same age, Scaurus Princeps Senatus had not retained the same illusion of youth, despite his symmetrical face. The lines which seamed it ate into the flesh, and his hairless dome was anciently wrinkled too. But his beautiful green eyes were young, keen, healthy, sparkling. And formidably intelligent. His much-admired and much-anecdoted sense of humor was not to the fore today, however, even in the creases at the corners of his mouth; today those corners turned right down. He too strolled across the floor to the doors, but then he turned away from the House to face the crowds outside.

  "Conscript Fathers of the Senate of Rome, I am your leader, duly reappointed by our present censors. I have been your leader since the year of my consulship, exactly twenty years ago. I am a consular who has been censor. I have led armies and concluded treaties with our enemies, and with those who came asking to be our friends. I am a patrician of the gens Aemilia. But more important by far than any of those things, laudable and prestigious though they may be, I am a Roman!

  "It sits oddly with me to have to agree with Gaius Marius, who called himself an Italian. But let me tell you over again the things he said at the beginning of his address. Is it really such a crime? To want to be a Roman? To want to be a member of the race which rules all of the world that matters? To want to be a member of the race which can issue orders to kings and see those orders obeyed? Like Gaius Marius, I say it is no crime to want to be a Roman. But where we differ is on the emphasis in that statement. It is no crime to want. It is a crime to do. And I cannot permit anyone hearing Gaius Marius to fall into the trap he has laid. This House is not here today to commiserate with those who want what they do not have. This House is not here today to wrestle with ideals, dreams, hungers, aspirations. We are here today to deal with a reality—the illegal usurpation of our Roman citizen
ship by tens of thousands of men who are not Roman, and therefore not entitled to say they are Roman. Whether they want to be Roman is beside the point. The point is that a great crime has been committed by tens of thousands of men, and we who guard our Roman heritage cannot possibly treat that great crime as something minor deserving no more than a metaphorical slap on the wrist."

  Now he turned to face the House. "Conscript Fathers, I, the Leader of the House, appeal to you as a genuine Roman to enact this law with every ounce of power and authority you can give it! Once and for all this Italian passion to be Roman must cease, be crushed out of existence. The lex Licinia Mucia must contain the harshest penalties ever put upon our tablets! Not only that! I think we should adopt both of Gaius Marius's suggestions, amend this law to contain them. I say that the first amendment must offer a reward for information leading to the exposure of a false Roman— four thousand sesterces, ten percent of the fine. That way our Treasury doesn't have to find a farthing—it all comes out of the purses of the guilty. And I say that the second amendment must provide a detachment of armed militia to accompany each and every panel of judges as they go about the business of their courts. The money to pay these temporary soldiers can also be found out of the fines levied. It is therefore with great sincerity that I thank Gaius Marius for his suggestions."

  No one afterward was ever sure whether this was the conclusion of Scaurus's speech, for Publius Rutilius Rufus was on his feet, crying, "Let me speak! I must speak!," and Scaurus was tired enough to sit down, nodding to the Chair.

  "He's past it, poor old Scaurus," said Lucius Marcius Philippus to his neighbors on either side. "It's not like him to have to seize upon another man's speech to make one of his own."

  ''I found nothing to quarrel with in it," said his left-hand neighbor, Lucius Sempronius Asellio.

  "He's past it," Philippus repeated.

  "Tace, Lucius Marcius!" said Marcus Herennius, his right-hand neighbor. "I'd like to hear Publius Rutilius."

  "You would!" snarled Philippus, but said no more.

  Publius Rutilius Rufus made no attempt to stride about the floor of the House; he simply stood beside his little folding stool and spoke.

  "Conscript Fathers, Quirites listening at the doors, hear me, I implore you!" He shrugged his shoulders, pulled a face. "I have no real confidence in your good sense, so I do not expect to succeed in turning you away from Marcus Aemilius's opinion, which is the opinion of most here today. However, what I say must be said—and must be heard to have been said when the future reveals its prudence and rightness. As the future will, I do assure you."

  He cleared his throat, then shouted, "Gaius Marius is correct! Nothing must be done beyond taking every false citizen off our rolls and out of our tribes. Though I am aware most of you—and I think including me!—regard the Italian nationals as a distinct cut below true Romans, I hope we all have sufficient judgment left to understand that this by no means makes barbarians out of the Italian nationals. They are sophisticated, their leading men are extremely well educated, and basically they live the same kinds of lives as we Romans do. Therefore they cannot be treated like barbarians! Their treaties with us go back centuries, their collaborations with us go back centuries. They are our close blood kindred, just as Gaius Marius said."

  "Well, Gaius Marius's close blood kindred, at any rate," drawled Lucius Marcius Philippus.

  Rutilius Rufus turned to stare at the ex-praetor, speckled brows lifting. "How perceptive of you to make a distinction," he said sweetly, "between close blood kindred and the sort of kinship forged by money! Now if you hadn't made that distinction, you'd have to stick to Gaius Marius like a suckerfish, wouldn't you, Lucius Marcius? Because where money is concerned, Gaius Marius stands closer to you than your own tata does! For I swear that once you begged more money from Gaius Marius than your own tata ever had to give you! If money were like blood, you too would be the object of Italian slurs, am I not right?"

  The House roared with laughter, clapped and whistled, while Philippus turned a dull red and tried to disappear.

  Rutilius Rufus returned to the subject. "Let us look at the penal provisions of the lex Licinia Mucia more seriously, I beg you! How can we flog people with whom we must coexist, upon whom we levy soldiers and money? If certain dissolute members of this House can cast aspersions upon other members of this House as to their blood origins, how different are we from the Italians? That is what I am saying, that is what you must consider. It is a bad father brings up his son on a regimen consisting of nothing save daily beatings—when that son grows up he loathes his father, he doesn't love or admire him. If we flog our Italian kindred of this peninsula, we will have to coexist with people who loathe us for our cruelty. If we prevent their attaining our citizenship, we will have to coexist with people who loathe us for our snobbery. If we impoverish them through outrageous fines, we will have to coexist with people who loathe us for our cupidity. If we evict them from their homes, we will have to coexist with people who loathe us for our callousness. How much loathing does that total? More by far, Conscript Fathers, Quirites, than we can afford to incur from people who live in the same lands we do ourselves."

  "Put them down even further, then," said Catulus Caesar wearily. "Put them down so far they have no feelings whatsoever left. It is what they deserve for stealing the most precious gift Rome can offer."

  "Quintus Lutatius, try to understand!" pleaded Rutilius Rufus. "They stole because we would not give! When a man steals what he regards as rightly belonging to him, he does not call it stealing. He calls it repossession."

  "How can he repossess what wasn't his in the first place?"

  Rutilius Rufus gave up. "All right, I have tried to make you see the foolishness of inflicting truly frightful penalties upon people among whom we live, who flank our roads, form the majority of the populace in the areas where we site our country villas and have our estates, who quite often farm our lands if we are not modern enough to employ slave-labor. I say no more about the consequences to us of punishing the Italians."

  "Thank all the gods for that!" sighed Scipio Nasica.

  "I move now to the amendments suggested by our Princeps Senatus—not by Gaius Marius!" said Rutilius Rufus, ignoring this remark. "And may I say, Princeps Senatus, that to take another man's irony and turn it into your own literality is not good rhetoric! If you're not more careful, people will begin to say you're past it. However, I understand it must have been difficult to find moving and powerful words to describe something your heart isn't in—am I not right, Marcus Aemilius?"

  Scaurus said nothing, but had flushed a trifle red.

  "It is not Roman practice to employ paid informers any more than it is Roman practice to employ bodyguards," said Rutilius Rufus. "If we start to do so under the provisions of the lex Licinia Mucia, we will be demonstrating to our Italian co-dwellers that we fear them. We will be demonstrating to our Italian co-dwellers that the lex Licinia Mucia is not intended to punish wrongdoing, but to crush a potential menace—none other than our Italian co-dwellers! In an inverted way, we will be demonstrating to our Italian co-dwellers that we think they can swallow us far more effectively than we have ever been able to swallow them! Such stringent measures and such un-Roman tools as paid informers and bodyguards indicate an enormous fear and dread—we are displaying weakness, Conscript Fathers, Quirites, not strength! A man who feels truly secure does not walk about escorted by ex-gladiators, nor glance over his shoulder every few paces. A man who feels truly secure does not offer rewards for information about his enemies."

  "Rubbish!" said Scaurus Princeps Senatus scornfully. "To employ paid informants is plain common sense. It will lighten the Herculean task before these special courts, which will have to wade through tens of thousands of transgressors. Any tool capable of shortening and lightening the process is desirable! As for the armed escorts, they are also plain common sense. They will discourage demonstrations and prevent riots."

  "Hear, hear! Hear, hear!" came
from every part of the House, sprinkled with scattered applause.

  Rutilius Rufus shrugged. "I can see I'm talking to ears turned to stone—what a pity so few of you can read lips! I will conclude then by saying only one more thing. If we employ paid informers, we will let loose a disease upon our beloved homeland that will enervate it for decades to come. A disease of spies, petty, blackmailers, haunting doubts of friends and even relatives—for there are some in every community who will do anything for money—am I not right, Lucius Marcius Philippus? We will unleash that shabby brigade which slinks about the corridors of the palaces of foreign kings—which always appears out of the woodwork whenever fear rules a people, or repressive legislation is enacted. I beg you, do not unleash this shabby brigade! Let us be what we have always been—Romans! Emancipated from fear, above the ploys of foreign kings.'' He sat down. "That is all, Lucius Licinius."

  No one applauded, though there were stirs and whispers, and Gaius Marius was grinning.

  And that, thought Marcus Livius Drusus as the House wound up its session, was that. Scaurus Princeps Senatus had clearly won, and Rome would be the loser. How could they listen to Rutilius Rufus with ears turned to stone? Gaius Marius and Rutilius Rufus had spoken eminent good sense— good sense so clear it was almost blinding. How had Gaius Marius put it? A harvest of death and blood that would give pause to the dragon's teeth. The trouble is, hardly one of them knows an Italian beyond some business deal or uneasy boundary sharing. They don't even have the faintest idea, thought Drusus sadly, that inside each Italian is a seed of hatred and revenge just waiting to germinate. And I would never have known any of this either, had I not met Quintus Poppaedius Silo upon a battlefield.

  His brother-in-law Marcus Porcius Cato Salonianus was seated on the top tier not far away; he threaded a path down to Drusus, put his hand upon Drusus's shoulder.

  "Will you walk home with me, Marcus Livius?"

  Drusus looked up from where he still sat, mouth slightly open, eyes dull. "Go on without me, Marcus Porcius," he said. "I'm very tired, I want to collect my thoughts."