The Tribune's Curse by John Maddox Roberts Read Free Book Online Page B

time to time.”
    “I’d rather not be known as another of Crassus’s toadies, even if some of the other Caecilians have given in.” My family, although still powerful in the Assemblies, had produced no men of great distinction recently. Metellus Pius was dead and his war against Sertorius all but forgotten. The conquest of Crete by Metellus Creticus really hadn’t amounted to much. The Big Three understood that only
recent
glory counted for anything.
    “It’s a chancy time just now,” he admitted. “It’s hard to know exactly how to maneuver and how to vote. I find it all truly enjoyable, but a few years from now things are going to get vicious. Caesar, Pompey, and Crassus will all be heading for Rome and trying for the Dictatorship.”
    “They wouldn’t dare!” I protested, with no great conviction.
    He smiled indulgently. “Marius dared. Sulla dared. They’ll dare. It’s the main reason I support Cicero so strongly. He’s a strict constitutionalist. If Caesar becomes Dictator, he’ll get rid of meand make Clodius his Master of Horse.” This ancient title meant the Dictator’s number-two man and enforcer.
    “And if it’s Crassus or Pompey?”
    “Then it’s exile or execution for Clodius and me both. As long as they’re engaged in foreign lands, they need men like us to control the City for them. With the Dictatorship they have it all, and they don’t need us.”
    “You’re talking about the death of the Republic,” I said, shivering.
    “It’s been dying for a long time, Decius. Now come along. Cast off this gloom. Let’s go talk to my men. Twenty of my best have agreed to fight in your funeral
munera
for Metellus Celer at a minimum charge, as a favor to me.”
    This cheered me, and I tried to shake off my mood of foreboding. Milo had some great retired champions working for him, men who were accustomed to getting huge fees to come out of retirement to fight in special Games. I grabbed another cup as we walked back toward his meeting hall.
     
    “Y OU DRANK TOO MUCH AGAIN ,” Julia informed me as we crawled into our detestably expensive litter.
    “Do you think I don’t know that, my dear? It’s been an unsettling evening.”
    “You thought so? I had a wonderful time. Fausta has given me so many ideas.”
    “I feared that,” I said, pinching the bridge of my long, Metellan nose.
    “And Lisas is such an amusing dinner companion. You really must get us an invitation to the next reception at the Egyptian Embassy. I hear it is the most astonishing place.”
    “Such an invitation will be forthcoming. Lisas is now cultivatingme, even though an aedile has nothing to do with foreign affairs.”
    “He knows you’re on your way up,” she said, patting my knee complacently. “So what soured your evening?”
    “A little interview with our esteemed consul.” I described our ominous conversation.
    “That loathsome creature!”
    “Oh, I don’t know, someday I’ll be old and decrepit, too, if the gods grant me a long life.”
    “That is not what I mean, and you know it!” she said, swatting me with her fan. “I knew him when I was a little girl, and he was still only middle-aged and relatively handsome. He was loathsome even then, the money-grubbing miser!”
    “We can’t all be patricians. As it occurs, I fully agree with your assessment of his character. Years ago, Clodia told me that Roman politics was a game in which all contended against all and there must eventually be one winner.”
    “She is an odious woman.”
    “But politically astute. It seems to be the general consensus that Crassus is soon to be removed from the playing board. All the rest have died or dropped out except for Caesar and Pompey. I fear civil war in the offing.”
    “Nonsense. Pompey is a political dolt, and he has separated himself from his veterans for too long. If Uncle Caius is forced to assume the Dictatorship—which is, I remind you, a constitutional office—I am sure that he will take only whatever