I Am Rome, page 21
He knew everyone was listening intently. His praise of Marius had left them curious as to where he aimed to go with his words. He placed his hands on his hips. “But even though Marius is a good legatus,” he continued, “I have also proven my intelligence, efficiency, and leadership ability, commanding cohorts and legions in Africa and in the North, where I accompanied Marius during his successful campaigns. I don’t have to remind you that, for example, the capture of the rebel king Jugurtha was to a large extent possible thanks to me personally. And, in the recent war against the rebellious socii, I once again proved my military prowess.”
He sighed. He now had to criticize himself, something necessary if he was to compare himself to Marius. “I know what you’re all thinking: that even if everything I’ve said is true, even if I’m a good military leader, Gaius Marius is still better.”
He paused. He looked at his audience. The tribunes in the first rows were nodding.
“I could try to refute that notion, to argue against that opinion,” Sulla continued, “but honestly, I don’t want to start that senseless argument. Because—and this is key—not only is the command of this army up for debate. Also up for debate is which army will actually do the fighting.”
Sulla watched as the tribunes and centurions exchanged confused glances.
“Yes, by Jupiter. The Council’s messengers have told you that you should accept Marius as commander of the army that will fight Mithridates, but they have not confirmed that your army will be the one sent eastward to wage this war. They want you to agree to let Marius make all the decisions about this next military campaign, one that will bring immense wealth to the legionaries who fight it, riches much greater than any war in recent memory, since the East holds treasures, gold and silver, in quantities infinitely superior to what you might obtain plundering cities in Africa or Cisalpine Gaul. In Asia, where many cities have already joined the side of Mithridates, or in Greece, where we may have to fight the King of Pontus, the spoils that await will be immeasurably larger, more precious, more coveted. And Marius knows this. Marius wants those spoils. But, my friends—if you’ll allow me to count you as friends since we have fought shoulder to shoulder in this war against the rebel socii—Gaius Marius does not plan to use your strength and experience to go east and destroy Mithridates.”
Sulla gave them a few seconds to process what they’d just heard and, after a brief pause, he resumed his speech. “No, my friends. I am here, standing before you, with the Senate’s nomination. But don’t you wonder why Marius is not here as well? Why not, if he claims to have the Council’s nomination for commander? Have you stopped to think about that?”
Another brief pause.
The officers sat in silence with furrowed brows as murky thoughts clouded their minds and they began to feel uneasy.
“I’ll give you the answer, by Jupiter! I’m here and he’s not because I have nothing to hide from you and he does: Gaius Marius is not here because he’s busy gathering his veteran warriors from Africa and the North. He plans to march those troops east and fight Mithridates, then divide the lavish spoils among fewer men. That is the reason Gaius Marius is not standing here today before you!”
Sulla saw first shock, then rage, on the faces of many of the centurions and tribunes. The Council’s messengers blinked, confused. They couldn’t confirm the claims the senator was making, but they knew that Marius was gathering a group of men to serve as his guards, and it was possible that his intention was to recruit an entire army of his trusted veterans as Lucius Cornelius Sulla had just indicated.
Dolabella looked at his admired mentor. Sulla’s lies had been fully convincing, and not only that: his falsehoods were so clever, so astute…
Sulla could see the seed of doubt germinating in the Council’s messengers and the discord and anger already in full bloom among the tribunes and centurions of the army at Nola. They wanted those eastern spoils for themselves.
Sulla looked somberly out onto the sea of faces. These were the kinds of “subtleties” that interested the legions of Rome: money. Marius had professionalized the Roman army, and that regular wage paid to them was of the utmost importance. Sulla understood this better than any other Roman leader. Better, even, than Marius himself.
“So, my friends, you have two options,” Sulla went on. “You can accept me as your supreme leader, or you can wait for Marius to gather his veterans, stop to give you a few words of encouragement as you continue this endless siege, and take off with that other army, his own army, to amass an enormous fortune that, by order of the Roman Senate, rightfully belongs to you. I know you will do what you think best. But there is one more thing I should warn you of before you make your decision.”
He could see that the tribunes and centurions were now primed to accept him as commander, but he wanted to make sure that their decision would be unshakable, irreversible.
“I have to warn you, by Hercules, that if we leave from here directly to the East, it’s very likely that Marius, Cinna, Sulpicius, and the other populares of Rome will manipulate the laws to ensure the spoils, the riches born through your own efforts, which rightfully belong to you, will be confiscated and divided among them. If you truly want to march east, to defeat Mithridates and return wealthy to a comfortable future for your families, you must do so under my command. But first, we must all march together…” He paused. He took a deep breath. And said it: “…on Rome!”
Dolabella, up to that moment, had listened to Sulla with a sly smile on his face. His mouth now fell open. No one had ever marched Roman legions against Rome itself. The very notion was unheard of, absurd, impossible. Or was it?
Sulla understood that what he’d just suggested was unthinkable, but he also understood the desperate thirst for money felt most urgently by men who had never tasted it—men like these soldiers at Nola. And he knew this thirst was powerful enough to make the unthinkable happen.
“Only if we go first to Rome and make it perfectly clear that the Senate’s decision outweighs the Plebeian Council’s attempt to manipulate our laws,” he went on, “only if we are there to ensure that the Senate’s order is upheld over the illegitimate ruling of the plebeian tribune Sulpicius, who impertinently dares to dictate command of the Roman legions, only then can we march east confident in the notion that all the many spoils obtained will be, in fact, yours. So your choice is: submit to the will of a corrupt Council, ruled by the populares, and watch as Marius and his men make off with everything; or accept me as commander, as decreed by the Senate, and march with me on Rome to declare that the eastern campaign rightfully, lawfully, with all the spoils implied, belongs to you and you alone. What say you, officers of the mighty legions of Rome? Will you remain here locked in this pointless, endless siege? Or will you march with me to Rome to uphold the Senate’s decree that the eastern campaign should remain in your hands? Will you wait and watch as your dreams vanish, or march with me today?”
Here Sulla threw up his arms as he finished his speech and stood waiting for the officers’ response.
“March on Rome!” one tribune finally responded. Immediately dozens, then hundreds, of officers began to chant those words over and over in unison: “March on Rome! March on Rome! March on Rome!”
Sulla stepped down from the platform.
Dolabella rushed over to him.
“You can’t turn against Rome,” he said, still shocked.
“I’m not turning against Rome,” Sulla said. Then, looking into Dolabella’s still incredulous eyes, he went on, “Rome is mine.”
XXX
Cornelia’s Apprenticeship
Julia family domus, Rome
88 B.C.
Caesar’s mother had invited Cornelia to spend the morning with her. Cinna, who normally didn’t allow his daughter to leave the house even to go shopping with the slaves at the Forum Boarium, made an exception, adding that the girl should speak little, be humble, and try not to embarrass him.
Cinna did not find it odd that the mother of the young Caesar would want to get to know the girl who would grow up to marry her only male child. He thought it needless, since the marriage had already been agreed upon, but he knew that women often entertained themselves with such things. Beyond keeping the marriage agreement intact, he cared little about the interpersonal relationships between the two families.
Cornelia arrived at the Julia residence in the Suburra escorted by a group of slaves and clutching the scroll of Plautus’s first play.
“Did you read it?” Aurelia asked as the girl returned Asinaria to her.
“Yes,” she replied, trying to remain sparing with her words per her father’s advice.
“Did you like it?” her hostess pressed as she gestured for the girl to take a seat on a solium across from her in the central atrium. The empty triclinia indicated that it was not yet time to eat.
Cornelia didn’t know what to say.
“Did you like the play?” Aurelia asked again.
“It was funny.”
“It is funny. The male protagonist is made to look like an idiot. Men can be so stupid sometimes, don’t you agree?”
Cornelia was silent, her mouth hanging open.
Now she really didn’t know how to respond.
Aurelia decided to drop the interrogation. The girl was not yet even nine years old and had hardly set foot outside her father’s home.
“Why do you think I’ve asked you to come?”
“I don’t know,” she lied.
“Yes you do. Let’s not start out being dishonest with each other so soon.”
Cornelia imagined that Aurelia wanted to find out what she thought of young Caesar, whom she would wed as soon as she came of age. But saying this would reveal that she knew of the betrothal, which would mean admitting that she and Caesar had eavesdropped on the adults from the tablinum. Worse still: if she spoke up, she’d be showing Caesar’s mother that she was prepared to betray young Caesar the first chance she got.
Cornelia was struck mute. She could lie and say that her father had told her about the arranged marriage. But everyone knew that Cinna barely acknowledged his daughter.
“You’re aware that we’ve arranged for you and my son to marry,” Aurelia said. “Caesar has been listening in on our conversations from the tablinum since around the time he learned to walk. He thinks I don’t know, but I do. I asked you if you know why I called you here.”
Cornelia swallowed. It was not going to be easy to follow her father’s order to remain silent. “To talk about Caesar, the domina’s son, I suppose.”
“What foolishness, by all the gods,” Aurelia replied. “What interest would I have in discussing a subject I already know everything about? No, I haven’t called you here to talk about my son. You’re here to talk about yourself.”
“About me?” Cornelia couldn’t believe it. “But I’m not important.”
“Surely not, at least not to your father, except to the extent that your union with my son, that is to say, Gaius Marius’s nephew, might bring him closer to being the leader of the populares. I’ve seen how he ignores you. But I am not in the habit of ignoring people. So tell me about yourself. What do you like to do?”
Cornelia looked down, confused. She didn’t know where to start. “I like sewing and learning how to manage a household and knitting—”
“I don’t want you to give me the answer you think I expect from you,” Aurelia interrupted. “I want you to tell me what it is you truly enjoy doing.”
Cornelia looked up and pressed her lips together. “I truly enjoy knitting; it’s fun. Giving orders is necessary to running a household, but I never know how to do it. I guess I’ll learn. But what I really like to do is read.”
“Read what?”
“Anything. There aren’t very many scrolls at my house. Not like here.” She looked toward the tablinum but blushed and looked back down, embarrassed as she remembered that she’d hidden there to eavesdrop.
“I can lend you more works by Plautus. Do you read Greek?”
Cornelia sighed. That question again. “No. My father doesn’t think it practical to educate me beyond the tasks that will fall to me as a wife and mother.”
“I see.”
A brief silence.
“Would you like to learn to read Greek so that you can understand, for example, stories like the one about Thalestris, queen of the Amazonian warrior women, or about lovely Helen, who sparked the Trojan War? Do you know those stories?”
“No I don’t. And I’d love to be able to read them, but my father—”
“Do me a favor, my child, and stop worrying about your father. You’re talking to me here, Aurelia.”
Cornelia nodded several times.
“Do you want me to teach you to read Greek?”
The girl felt tears spring to her eyes. “Yes, I’d like that very much, domina.”
Caesar and Labienus burst into the atrium.
“Sulla is marching on Rome!” Caesar announced. “With the six legions from Nola.”
Aurelia stared at the boys in bewilderment.
“Do you know what you’re saying, son? That’s impossible. No Roman senator would ever turn the legions against Rome.”
Just then Caesar’s father entered the atrium. “Well, the impossible has just occurred,” he confirmed, having heard Aurelia’s last words. “It’s all anyone can talk about in the forum.” He was covered in sweat, having run all the way from the center of the city to bring her the news.
“Water!” she commanded, glancing sharply at the atriense. The slave jumped up and rushed off to comply. Aurelia looked to Cornelia. “That is how you give an order.”
The girl nodded quickly without opening her mouth.
“He’s not bringing the entire six legions,” Caesar Sr. went on. “It would appear that he’s left a large contingent of troops to maintain the siege of Nola against the Samnites, but he is marching several legions on Rome. Nothing and no one will be able to stand in his way. Marius will have to return to exile—I’ve just spoken with him. He doesn’t have enough men to go up against an army of that size. And there’s no convincing those legionaries to change loyalties, since it seems Sulla has promised them all the spoils from the war against Mithridates. There’s nothing better anyone could offer those men. Sulla, as much as we might hate to admit it, is very clever and has won their absolute loyalty. Marius will have to leave, just as he did after that disaster with Saturninus and Glaucia the night of that cursed senatus consultum ultimum. He’ll have to take refuge in Africa. Cinna…” And here he seemed to notice little Cornelia for the first time, although he had no idea what the girl was doing in his home. “Cinna will stay in Rome. Sulla’s animosity toward him is not as strong as his hatred of Marius. Cinna has assured me that he will reach some kind of an agreement to avoid blood being spilled. But it’s not going to be easy.”
The water was brought in.
Caesar Sr. took a long drink.
He sat down.
“Not easy at all,” he repeated.
Lucius Cornelius Cinna’s domus
That same night
Cornelia returned home. Her father was agitated, as she’d imagined he would be after everything she’d heard at the Julia domus.
“What are you going to do, Father?” Cinna’s son asked.
The pater familias was mired in a tense silence.
Cornelia looked on without saying a word, knowing it was better to remain silent and out of sight when her father was in one of those moods.
“We will wait,” Cinna finally said. “We will accept all the conditions that Sulla wishes to impose. But once he leaves Rome with his army to confront Mithridates, we will act. That will be our moment. We will take advantage of that moment to prepare.”
Cinna’s son accepted the explanation, but Cornelia didn’t fully understand his meaning. If her mother had been a more determined woman, more like Aurelia, she might’ve joined the conversation, but Annia was by nature very passive and she never questioned her husband on anything. This was in part because she’d been taught to be submissive and in part because Cinna was not as tolerant a man as Julius Caesar Sr.
To everyone’s surprise, it was Cornelia who dared to challenge her father’s vague response: “What is it that you’ll have to prepare for, Father?”
Cinna looked up, annoyed at having to explain something so obvious. “Sulla will take power now but then he’ll be forced to leave. We will prepare for his return. Of course, you couldn’t possibly understand such a matter, being a girl,” he responded scornfully.
Cornelia decided not to ask any more questions. The truth was that she felt more comfortable and more appreciated in the Julia home than in her own. She didn’t hate her father, but he was impossible to please. And her mother was all silence.
XXXI
The Cult of Sulla
Rome, 87 B.C.
Just as Julius Caesar Sr. had predicted, there were not enough men left in Rome to resist Sulla and his legions. The citizens were forced to look on, shocked and stupefied, as Sulla took control of the city and all its political institutions. The Senate was with him, so he focused his ire on the Plebeian Council. Sulpicius Rufus, in his capacity as plebeian tribune, was the one who had appointed Marius as commander of the army at Nola. He had also passed new legislation ceding Roman citizenship to the socii. This, even though the war with the allied tribes was still very recent and, in the case of the Samnites in Nola, not even officially over. But extending Roman citizenship was what allowed them to modify the census by adding new members to the Plebeian Council and to pass the vote for Marius as chief commander.
