Most foreigners assumed that the Senate ran things. While the Senate was full of powerful men, its own powers were restricted almost completely to foreign affairs. Cicero got into huge trouble by trying the Catilinarian conspirators in the Senate and executing them without appeal. Even though the immensely conservative Cato fully approved of his actions, Cicero was exiled by the comitia tribute, then later recalled by a vote of the comitia centuriata.
SPQR, our ancient civic insignia, stood for “the Senate and People of Rome,” and we meant it.
Now, of course, it is all changed. Most of the old bodies and institutions remain, but they all just do what the First Citizen tells them to. Once we savaged each other so thoroughly that it is no wonder we were such a terror to our enemies. I fear that Rome has no great future now that it is a monarchy in all but name.
But such thoughts did not disturb me at the time. This accusation of murder was just one more excitement in the general excitement of election time. It was an annoyance, but anything was better than being in Gaul.
“Cato, you recall the crowd that denounced me on the basilica steps yesterday? Were they at the contio?”
“They were there. Still denouncing you, too.”
“Did they happen to mention that they caught me in the house of Fulvius, rifling through his belongings?”
“Never said a word about it. Oh, there was some gossip going around that you and your boy Hermes were seen leaping from a balcony and running like the Furies were after you, but I’ve heard that so often that I discounted it. What were you up to?”
“Gathering evidence. The door wasn’t locked and no one was there to forbid me to enter, so it wasn’t housebreaking. What interests me is that they said nothing about it.”
“It does seem odd. What did you find?”
“Nothing immediately useful. But he was living unusually well for a penurious man, in a house owned by Caius Claudius Marcellus.”
“A political favor then,” he said. “But of what sort? He’s an ardent anti-Caesarian, but like you he has a marriage tie with Caesar.”
“Really? I was unaware of that.”
“Yes, his wife is Octavia. She is a granddaughter of Caesar’s sister.”
“A great-niece? That’s not much of a connection.”
“In this case it could be. Caesar has shown great favor toward her brother, young Caius Octavius. If he doesn’t breed an heir soon, he may adopt the boy. A few months ago the lad gave the funeral eulogy for his grandmother, Julia. Did a splendid job of it for one so young.”
“I’ve never heard of him,” I said. And that was true of most of us. It was just as well for our peace of mind that we didn’t know what the future had in store for that particular brat, who was all of twelve years old at the time.
“A couple of years ago, when Caesar and Pompey were patching up one of their breaches, Caesar wanted Octavia to divorce Marcellus and marry Pompey. Caesar would set aside Calpurnia and marry Pompey’s daughter. But it didn’t work out somehow.”
“That must have made for some tense domestic suppers at Caesar’s house,” I said.
“Why?” Cato was honestly mystified at the suggestion that these women might resent being ordered to divorce and remarry at someone’s political whim. Pompey’s daughter was married to Faustus Sulla and had two children by him. In the event, Pompey had actually married the daughter of Metellus Scipio. She was the widow of Publius Crassus, who had died with his father at Carrhae. Our political marriages were as complicated as our electoral politics.
“Claudius Marcellus bids fair to be one of next year’s consuls,” I said. “What is he likely to do?”
“Now that Caesar’s soldiers are here, his colleague will be Lucius Aemilius Lepidus Paullus. You’ve seen the huge renovations going on at the Basilica Aemilia?”
“It’s hard to miss.”
“Well, Lucius will preside at its rededication, and his name will be carved on it as restorer, but it’s Caesar’s money that’s paid for the work.”
Erection or restoration of monuments was enormously important to any man’s prestige. Families traditionally saw to the upkeep of the monuments of their ancestors, as witness my new roof on the Porticus Metelli. By restoring the old basilica, Lucius Aemilius not only glorified himself, but he received credit for his piety in honoring his ancestors.
Something else occurred to me. Like many of Rome’s older structures, the Basilica Aemilia had more than one name. People sometimes called it the Basilica Fulvia.
IT WAS BARELY NOON WHEN I WENT to the house of Callista. I had intended to call later, but since I might be arrested at anytime I thought it prudent to stop by early. Hermes was with me as usual, and the long walk to the Trans-Tiber took us through an almost deserted Rome because so much of the population had flocked to the Campus Martius to see the soldiers from Gaul. Like most of Caesar’s self-glorifying schemes, this one had proved to be a resounding success.