“Very observant. We do that on purpose, to let the water run off. For now, to finish the road, we’re laying down a layer of gravel. That’s usually the end of the job. But on this project, the gravel layer is to be only temporary. As time and money permit, the plan is to scrape away the gravel and lay down blocks of the hardest stone we can find. Around Roma, that usually means basaltic lava. The stones aren’t uniform, like bricks; they’re broken and cut into all sorts of random shapes—polygonal, we call them—but skilled workmen can pick and choose among those stones and fit them together until the surface is so perfectly even and smooth, you’d be hard-pressed to find the tiniest gap, even with your fingertip. I’ve seen walls built that way, and there’s no reason it can’t be done on a road, as well. Up ahead, we’ve completed a small section of the road with a finished stone layer, just as a showpiece for now. Here it is. Have a look. Walk on it. Jump on it! Stoop down and run your hands over it. So flat and smooth and perfect, wouldn’t you swear it was made of one solid stone that just happens to have a few seams running through it?”
“It’s amazing!” said Kaeso. “And beautiful.”
“And likely to last for more lifetimes than those of all your ancestors put together.”
“Do you really think the entire road can be finished this finely, all the way to Capua?”
“I believe that roads this fine will some day run all up and down Italy, and far beyond—as far as any Roman dares to travel. From the Pillars of Hercules to the banks of the Euxine Sea, people will say, ‘Here runs a Roman road!’” Decius laughed. “You know what Appius Claudius once said to me? ‘Alexander conquered half the world with his army, but can you imagine what he might have done, if only the Greeks knew how to build a Roman road?’”
“And just how long has this been going on?” demanded Quintus Fabius, scowling.
“A month or so. Since the day after my toga day,” said Kaeso.
“Just as I thought. This relationship with Appius Claudius won’t do, young man. It simply won’t do!”
Quintus had asked his younger cousin to pay him a visit, but he did not receive him in the garden; instead, he met him in the vestibule. Not only was Kaeso being kept from the heart of the house, like a merchant paying an unwelcome call, and being made to stand rather than sit, but here in the vestibule, following patrician custom, the wax busts of Quintus’s ancestors were placed in niches in the walls, from which they stared unblinking at all who came and went. It seemed that not only Quintus was scowling at Kaeso and judging him; so were several generations of dour-looking Fabii.
“Cousin, I am aware of your disagreements with Appius Claudius—”
“The man is degenerate! He’s polluted his mind with so-called Greek learning. Given half a chance, he’ll pollute your mind as well.”
“I don’t think you need to worry about that,” said Kaeso. So far, Claudius’s efforts to teach him Greek had been fruitless. Happily, Kaeso’s aptitude for engineering exceeded even his own hopes, and Claudius had been quite impressed with his new protégé’s intelligence and enthusiasm. “I sought out Appius Claudius only because of his construction projects. I’m learning a great deal about road-building, and also about the new aqueduct—”
“All you need to know about those wasteful and inefficient projects, you could have found out by asking me, young man. They are the result of a gross abuse of the censor’s office. Somehow, Claudius managed to circumvent the Senate and plunder the treasury to finance his illegal schemes.”
“But those schemes, as you call them, are surely for the benefit of all Roma.”
“They are for the benefit of Claudius, a means to extend his political patronage! By giving them jobs, he buys the loyalty of the thousands of citizens he employs. No doubt he is also enriching himself!”
Kaeso frowned. “Are you accusing him of embezzling public funds?”
Quintus grunted. “I wouldn’t put it past him! You’re young, Kaeso. You haven’t yet seen enough of the world to judge a man’s character. Believe me, Claudius is not the sort of man with whom our sort should associate.”
“But surely he’s as patrician as you or I,” said Kaeso.
Did Quintus hesitate before replying? Was he thinking of Kaeso’s origin by adoption, and his uncertain bloodline? He shook his head. “The Claudii have always been vain and self-important, but at least in the old days they were rock solid in their support of patrician privilege. Appius Claudius has done an about-face and made himself a champion of the lower classes. Oh, he pays lip service to patrician ideals—the glory of the ancestors and the founders of the Republic—but at heart the man is a demagogue. He panders to the rabble. He flirts with dangerous democratic ideas, which he probably picked up from reading those wretched Greek philosophers he admires. He should never have been given control of the citizen rolls.”
“But as censor, that’s his duty.”
“To update the rolls, yes, but not to tinker with them, and in a most irresponsible fashion. Oh, he’ll tell you he’s simply reorganizing the voting blocks to make them more efficient, but his scheme is to make elections more democratic and less weighted to the blocks dominated by patricians—a very dangerous idea! The founders, in their wisdom, designed the electoral process deliberately to give more influence to those families whose achievements long ago earned them a special place in the state. Nothing must be done to erode that system. It has served Roma well since the birth of the Republic. It will serve us just as well for another two hundred years.
“Even worse, young man, is Claudius’s abuse of the censor’s right to fill vacancies in the Senate. Every vacancy is filled with a man loyal to Claudius—and some of those new senators are the sons of freedmen! Such a degradation of the Senate would have been unthinkable in my grandfather’s day. What have we come to?”
“Times change, cousin,” said Kaeso.
“And seldom for the better! Once a radical idea takes root, no one can predict how fast or how far it will spread. Consider the consulship. For a very long time, only patricians were able to get themselves elected to the highest office, shutting out the plebeians. The patricians’ exclusive claim on the consulship became a tradition, which eventually took on the force of law. But the so-called reformers objected, and fifty-five years ago, they managed to pass a law that allowed one of the two consuls to be a plebeian. A matter of fairness, said the reformers; if a plebeian is clever enough to get himself elected consul, then why not? But that was only the beginning. Thirty years ago, the reformers passed another law, and this one mandated that one of the consuls must be a plebeian! Where will it end? Such changes are always due to rabble-rousers like Appius Claudius, traitors to their patrician blood. Claudius is a dangerous man. You should steer clear of him.”
Kaeso sighed. “Cousin Quintus, please understand. I share your political views. How could I not? They’re the ideas my father imparted to me while I was growing up. But just as I convinced my father to allow me to work under Claudius, so I hope that I can convince you to lift your objections. I have no intention of aiding or abetting Appius Claudius in any rabble-rousing schemes. But the aqueduct and the new road are being built, no matter what objections you may have, and I want to have a hand in them. If such projects yield political benefits, then why should Claudius be the sole beneficiary? Why should there not be a Fabius involved in the projects, learning how the process works? In years to come, more roads and aqueducts will be built, and when that happens, I want it to be a Fabius who takes the credit and reaps the benefits.”
Quintus shook his head. “You walk a dangerous path, Kaeso. To learn a bit about building and engineering is not a bad thing. But Claudius is a devious man, and charming. He may yet seduce you to his way of thinking.”