‘Could we not request troops from Rome?’
Barbinus threw his head back and laughed. ‘What? To put down slaves? I think you’ve had too much sun, Didius Flaccus. When did Rome ever need soldiers to subdue slaves?’ He patted the top of his head, stark white in contrast to his olive-skinned face. ‘Do as I do, friend. Always wear a hat, especially in Sicily.’
He had said the same thing to Silvanus, the governor, at the meeting that morning, unaware that he, a more astute politician than Barbinus, had already sent off a despatch to Rome. Not that he disagreed with the landowner about the requirement for troops to put down a few slaves, but the governor knew that in the febrile world of Republican politics it was a good idea to cover all eventualities. Sicily was an exceedingly lucrative office, one of the best in the Senate’s gift. It was therefore axiomatic that others, even those he could call friends, continually sought to have him replaced.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Quintus Cornelius tried hard to concentrate on the reports that Lucius had asked him to read, but his mind kept returning to the games that it was his task to organise. They were going to be expensive, more than in a normal year, since it was necessary to head off the rising discontent of the poorer sections within the city. People continued to pour in from the countryside, quite a number being ex-soldiers, either citizens of Rome or former auxiliaries. Already volatile, their previous skill at the profession of arms made them dangerous. The corn dole had become an ever-increasing burden on the state and that, at least, meant that the reports from Sicily had his undivided attention.
One bad harvest in that island and the effect in Rome could be incalculable. Lucius Falerius, with Quintus as his willing helper, now controlled the Senate in a way that no faction had achieved for a hundred years but that had a negative side. Some of those who opposed them, aware that any attempt to change matters in the legislature was doomed, tended to seek exterior means of advancing their cause and what better method to choose than allying themselves with the bare-arsed mob whose slum dwellings disfigured the outskirts of Rome? Denied bread, that lot could well burn the city.
Chariot races were a useful way of allowing the populace to let off steam, but nothing worked as well as a proper set of well-organised games. As one of the urban aediles it was not something he could avoid, since it fell within his responsibilities as a city magistrate and he was cursed by the behaviour of some of his more profligate predecessors, who had sought to bribe those who voted in the Comitia by pandering to their whims. Gone were the days when a few wild boar, bear baiting by dogs and the odd raging bull trying to gore a criminal, satisfied the Roman multitude. Now it was wild beasts from Africa and Asia; elephants versus lions or tigers and mass gladiator contests that had to be fought to the death, something that increased the price ten-fold. How was it that a ceremony, once a graveside contest between specially chosen warriors to honour a dead chieftain, had grown so that it now dominated the way of entertaining the masses?
He shook his head, partly in disgust, but more to aid his concentration. Spain, Illyricum, Numidia, Macedonia: all required his attention. He had never dreamt that there would be so much work involved in trying to maintain political superiority. His mentor passed over as much work as he could, claiming as he did so that Quintus could not advance in stature and maintain his position in the future unless he understood all the ramifications, the levers that constituted their means of holding power. Lucius Falerius stood in the background, ready to intervene when matters reached an impasse, leaving the younger man staggered by the apparent simplicity with which he solved thorny problems. Often he could bring a recalcitrant senator to heel with a few whispered words, and this after weeks during which Quintus had tried all manner of cajolery and persuasion. Really, all the difficulties stemmed from supporters; their enemies they could ignore but those who purported to share their views were a source of constant irritation. Fellow senators, supposedly august and dignified individuals, were really like a set of squabbling children, intent on endlessly pressing petty complaints.
One would have a grudge about the distribution of public land, to satisfy which required some form of compensation. Another would complain that the proper order of precedence had been ignored in some insignificant debate, this an affront to his dignity. Mollifying them could only be achieved if both the reigning consuls, and all their living predecessors, could be persuaded to yield the right to take the floor first. Quintus knew that money, in the shape of monopolies, land grants and dispensations, oiled the process more than political principle. A realist, he was not shocked by this, but it did add to his own woes.
Personally, he had to be seen as above any suspicion of corruption; the slightest hint that he was feathering his own nest by giving himself concessions that others would claim as their due could cause a haemorrhage in their ranks. So Quintus Cornelius was forced to endure endless toil, spend money to please the mob, while denying himself income to appease his peers. He complained about it loudly, though never once to the point where he even hinted at a willingness to lay down the burden.
A slave entered to remind him of the hour; he was due at the Forum to partake in a civic welcome to be extended to an embassy from Parthia, so Quintus threw aside the despatch from Silvanus, the governor of Sicily, warning of an increase in the problems caused by runaway slaves. His request for regular troops to help weed them out was absurd and surely the consuls would share his view; let the planters, who made the profits, pay to keep the peace. As he dressed, taking great care with his toga, his mind wandered from one problem besetting the Republic to the next. The frontiers were bad enough, but here in the city he had to decide what advice to offer regarding the activities of certain knights. Wealthy enough to advance to the Senate, they were being denied admittance on the flimsiest of excuses, mostly concerned with their personal morality. Would they, once elevated, behave as they should and drop any demands for reform of the courts? Or would they come to the chamber and try to tip the balance towards the class they had just left?
Could he do something to stop the other Italian states from bribing senators to advance the idea of universal citizenship, or find a means to shift some of the slum dwellers, non-Romans, back to their own lands? Each fold in the heavy white garment seemed to represent a different conundrum, which would require as much care in the tackling as the fuss he was making about his appearance. Quintus was not yet bored by such ceremony, still excited to be required to represent his city when external potentates sought either alliance or peaceful coexistence. He desired to be elegant without being overt. Against the gorgeously clad ambassadors from the east he wished to stress that Rome was controlled by men who required no glitter to enhance their dignitas. Today there would be, at the request of Lucius Falerius, no gold rings in the Senate. Plain iron, as of old, was sufficient for him, therefore it was enough for all. Finally satisfied, Quintus left his private rooms and made for the gate. He was halfway across the atrium when the door was opened to admit Cholon and the senator fixed the Greek with a jaundiced look.
‘I don’t know why you don’t move in here.’
‘I value my freedom, Quintus.’
Cholon took great pleasure from the way the double meaning of that upset the owner of the house and he was rewarded with a scowl. ‘The number of times you dine with my stepmother! If it was anyone else I’d be worried, but then I don’t suppose her virtue is in any danger from you.’