Blood and Steel

Chapter 16

Rome

The Caelian Hill,

Five Days before the Ides of March, AD238

When the drinks came in they all stopped talking. There was time to study the small room. Like everything in the house of the Consul Fulvius Pius, it was decorated with restrained good taste; the walls painted in blocks of red and black panels, busts of Brutus, Cassius and Cato the Younger on plinths.

Pupienus thought about the portraits. Two Stoics and an Epicurean. Two men who had assassinated Caesar in the name of Republican libertas, and one who had killed himself rather than live under his dictatorship; two tyrannicides and a martyr for freedom. Had Fulvius Pius dressed the room to appeal to Gallicanus? On the other hand, if they were a permanent feature of the decor, did it indicate some hankering on the part of the Consul for the long lost free Republic? Not necessarily. Pupienus had read of an equestrian official who had exhibited busts of the same men, while faithfully serving in the imperial administration for nearly half a century, serving under the tyrants Tiberius and Caligula, possibly Claudius as well. It annoyed him that he could not recall the man’s name. He prided himself on his memory.

Perhaps Piso’s sculptures were merely an assertion of culture. It was possible to read too much into a man’s choice in art. Yet, in politics, small details might reveal character; interests, affiliations, strengths and weaknesses. If he was to be harnessed to them, at least outwardly, in the new Board of Twenty, Pupienus needed to know everything he could about the other four men in the room; penetrate beneath the exterior of the young Stoic Menophilus, the gross patrician Balbinus, the hairy Cynic Gallicanus, as well as their anxious looking Consular host.

The servants left, and Fulvius Pius was the first to speak.

‘Before we look to the future, the city must be safe. Murder, arson, rape; some people have been afraid to leave their homes. They are not safe even there.’

It was for Pupienus to answer. He took a sip of watered wine, let them wait a moment. The Consul was cautious, irresolute; not to be relied upon, but posing little threat. Some people, indeed. He needed reassurance; the calm enumeration of matter-of-fact details of security.

‘When he heard that Sabinus was dead, Potens fled; maybe to Maximinus in the north, more likely to his brother-in-law Decius and the comparative safety of Spain.’ Pupienus nodded to Menophilus. ‘The Watch has a new commander; Maecius Gordianus, an equestrian kinsman of our noble Emperors. The Prefect Felicio has administered the oath of allegiance to those Praetorians still quartered in their camp. Serapamum has the Second Legion ready to march from their base in the Alban Hills. The necessity should not arise. As Prefect of the City, I have put the Urban Cohorts back onto the streets. The ringleaders of the recent troubles are being arrested. Timesitheus, the Prefect of the Grain Supply, has ordered a special distribution. With the stick and the carrot, the plebs should be quiet.’

The others took it all in, sitting still, or toying with their drinks.

Timesitheus had done more than produce a surplus of grain. The Praefectus Annonae had shown an extraordinarily detailed knowledge of the identities and domiciles of the plebeian rabble rousers who had led the mobs out of the Subura. Pupienus did not care for surprises, and every conversation with Timesitheus was a revelation. The little Greek was easy and subtle, full of charm, but, for those with eyes to see, remorseless ambition glimmered just beneath the amiable surface. He needed watching, and now, not without reason, he expected a reward. It was a pity that Menophilus had already assigned the commands of the Praetorians and the Watch. Timesitheus had implied that he would like to add one of those Prefectures to that of the Grain Supply. Something else needed to be found to satisfy the Graeculus. It would be unwise to alienate such a man.

‘Our problem remains.’

Menophilus might be the youngest and the most junior present, but no one objected to his taking the lead. He was close to the new Emperors, and no one was likely to forget that in the last few days he had killed two senior politicians with his own hands. one with a sword, the other clubbed to death with the leg of a chair. The principles of Stoicism had always been malleable, Pupienus reflected.

‘The Senate has decreed a Board of Twenty to defend Italy from Maximinus, and we still have twenty-three names.’

‘A free vote in the Curia,’ Gallicanus said.

‘It is inappropriate,’ Menophilus said.

‘Inappropriate!’ Gallicanus bounded up from his couch, like one of the big apes in the imperial menagerie, when they are prodded with a stick. ‘Free speech in the Senate House is never inappropriate. It is the very cause for which we have put our lives at risk.’

Balbinus raised himself on an arm. His large belly shifted as if some rotund animal, something more slothful than simian, had taken refuge in his clothes. ‘If every Senator exercises his choice, do you think most would vote for an ex-Praetor, a man from nowhere, one who ceaselessly parades his austerity?’

Gallicanus wrung his hands with great violence, probably wishing Balbinus’ neck was in their strong grip, but subsided.

Pupienus thought Balbinus a fool. A true statesman never gave offence, unless it was necessary, unless it brought him advantage. Bitter words should be dipped in honey.

‘When Cato condoned bribery in elections,’ Pupienus gestured at one of the busts, ‘he accepted that occasionally Roman voters require guidance; that sometimes strict morality and temporal laws must stand down for the greater good, for the well-being of the Res Publica.’

Gallicanus did not look particularly mollified or grateful. Oaf, Pupienus thought, yapping Cynic dog.

‘A Board of Twenty,’ Menophilus resumed. ‘Three men, no matter how deserving, must be dropped from our list. Experience of military command should be a prerequisite. As such, for the safety of the Res Publica, I am prepared to strike out the name of Celsus Aelianus, friend though he is of our Augustus Gordian the Younger.’ He turned to Balbinus. ‘Your amicus Praetextatus also has never commanded troops in the field.’

‘Never.’ Balbinus’ jowls wobbled with incoherent vehemence.

Gallicanus laughed, an unpleasant sound, fortunately seldom heard. ‘At least we would be spared looking at him. The only person in Rome uglier is that daughter of his. No matter how large the dowry, he cannot find her a husband, doubt he ever will.’

Balbinus ignored the comments. ‘That sniggering little Greek scribbler Licinius has never seen an army. Draw a line through his name.’

‘Letters must be written, governors and communities persuaded,’ Fulvius Pius said. ‘He has been imperial secretary. We need his eloquence. He has been a Rationibus. We need his financial acumen. Anyway he governed Noricum, an armed province. What qualifications does your friend Valerius Priscillianus hold? Is he not Curator of the Banks of the Tiber and the Sewers of the City?’

Well, Pupienus thought, our Consul has a backbone after all. Perhaps he wants to build a little factio of his own.

‘Never,’ Balbinus shouted, ‘not while I live and breath. What about Egnatius Marinianus. He has nothing to recommend him except Valerian married his sister.’

Pupienus withdrew part of his mind. Long ago Mark Antony, Octavian and Lepidus had met on a small island in a river near Bononia. While everyone else waited on the banks, they drew up a proscription list, trading friends and relatives, marking them down for death. The stakes here were not that high, not yet. But something had to be done to break this deadlock, some concession.

‘Appius Claudius is so old, he will be dead by the time Maximinus gets here,’ Gallicanus said.

Pupienus regretted that Fortunatianus was outside with the other secretaries. A written list would give certainty to his calculations. He concentrated hard, holding all the names in his mind, arranging them, making patterns of friendship and obligation. Yes, it could be done. If he had counted the numbers correctly, assessed all their attachments, he could make a gesture. He waited for a pause.

‘Conscript Fathers, if our history teaches us anything, it is that duty to the Res Publica must outweigh love of family and friends.’

They were all looking at him.

‘Along with Celsus Aelianus, let the names of my sons, Maximus and Africanus, be struck from the list.’

He would have smiled at their surprise, had his emotions not been schooled by a lifetime of restraint.

A moment of silence, then all spoke at once of his devotion to the cause, his nobility of soul; graceful words masking relieved self-interest.

‘It is settled,’ Menophilus said. ‘Twenty candidates for twenty places. Now for the practicalities. All members of the Twenty have to be ex-Consuls. When the Senate meets tomorrow, Fulvius Pius and Pontius Pontianus will lay down the Consulship.’

‘But,’ Fulvius Pius spoke up, ‘Pontianus is not here.’

‘He wrote pleading ill health.’ Menophilus was brisk. ‘We will take that as his resignation.’

No one objected. Feigning illness on a country estate might let Pontianus survive the coming civil war. For many Senators, perhaps the majority, that was all that mattered, but it would not endear them to either camp. The men in this room were putting themselves at risk for power and influence, the highest stakes of all.

‘Gallicanus and myself will replace them. At the sixth hour, we too will relinquish office, and Maecenas and Claudius Julianus be elected, the latter, as governor of Dalmatia, in absentia. Then, in the afternoon, the Senate can proceed with the election of the Board of Twenty.’

‘Consul for six hours,’ Gallicanus said. ‘It makes a mockery of the constitution.’

‘Rome does not have a written constitution,’ Menophilus said.

Balbinus heaved himself up to speak, doubtless something offensive.

Pupienus forestalled him. ‘The greater good.’ He pointed at the stern, marble features of Cato. ‘We must all remember the greater good.’

A libation, a toast to each other, and the meeting was over.

Back in his house, a few steps from that of the Consul, Pupienus retired to a private room with Fortunatianus. His secretary handed him writing materials. Opening the hinged wooden block, Pupienus focused his memory. Smoothing the wax, he took up the stylus, and wrote his list, annotating it only in his mind.

XXviri ex Senatus Consulta Rei Publicae Curandae

Menophilus — the voice of the Gordiani

Valerian — their dutiful, if dull follower

Egnatius Marinianus — Valerian’s brother-in-law

Lucius Virius — father of Menophilus’ closest friend

Appius Claudius — aged ally of Gordian the Elder

Five men, only Menophilus and Lucius Virus of any consequence

Balbinus — repulsive compound of privilege and low cunning

Valerius Priscillianus — idem, embittered by the killings of his father and brother

Rufinianus — another Patrician, but somewhat thinner, somewhat more capable

Praetextatus — rich, ill-favoured, pliable

Claudius Aurelius — elderly descendant of Marcus Aurelius, recalled by sense of duty from self-imposed semi-exile on his estates

Claudius Severus — indistinguishable from the above

Six, united by their estimates of their own abilities

Pupienus — a novus homo, risen to the heights, his origins carefully hidden; know yourself, said the Oracle of Delphi

Sextus Cethegillus — his brother-in-law

Tineius Sacerdos — father of the wife of his elder son

Crispinus — another successful new man, nothing shaming in his past

Four, all men of substance, especially the novi homines; Delphic self-knowledge was not to be confused with humility

Gallicanus — a posturing, violent ape or dog

Maecenas — his companion in everything

Two, their dangerous self-righteousness buttressed by philosophical aspirations

Fulvius Pius — the presiding Consul

Licinius — the orator and treasurer

Latronianus — a great noble

Three individuals, or an incipient faction?

As it read, Balbinus had the largest faction. Certainly, he had left with an air of ill-concealed triumph. And yet … and yet.

Pupienus tapped the stylus against the ring on the middle finger of his right hand.

The two Claudii had put their heads on the block by their own volition. Virtus, not loyalty to Balbinus had impelled their return. Descendants of Emperors made bad followers. They would pursue their own line. With persuasion, the factio of Balbinus might be reduced to four. And then, with a bold stroke, perhaps, to three.

It was a pity Maximus was already wed. He was the more biddable of Pupienus’ sons. Africanus had developed a fine estimate of himself since he had held the Consulship. But there again, he had always been the more ambitious. With the right handling, he might accept the influx of wealth and influence that would come with a less-than-attractive wife. Beauty should reside in her obedience and chastity, not her form. Pupienus would call on Praetextatus without delay.

Twenty Men Elected from the Senate to Care for the Res Publica

And to further their own interests. What a cohort. Still, often in politics it was easier if you did not care for your travelling companions.

Pupienus smoothed the wax clean. He always wrote lightly, taking care to leave no marks on the underlying wood. All gone.