“Decius, I would hate to lose you. Aside from being a good prospect as a Caesarian, you are certainly one of the more interesting and unusual figures in our public life. But I fear you will not be among us for long if you fail to acknowledge the desperation of your peers. All of them: your family, the Claudians, both Marcelli and Pulchri, the Cornelians and Pompey, and the rest, they are all second- and third-raters. And they have been fighting and plotting and bleeding themselves white against each other! Now in Caesar, they are up against a man of the first class, and they have no idea what to do. They are all so jealous of each other that they will never agree on a policy. They have no man of comparable worth to rally behind. In their blind panic they will bring on a civil war they cannot win.”
“It needn’t come to that,” I said. “I know Caesar well. He is arrogant and ambitious, but he is not reckless. He has little personal respect for the Senate, but he is respectful of its institutions. He did not initiate this series of extraordinary commands. Marius began that more than half a century ago. Sulla, Pompey, and others have taken full advantage of them; Caesar has just been better at it. In following precedent, he’s adhered strictly to the Constitution. I don’t believe that he will take up arms against the Senate. He is no Sulla.” Even as I said it, I had doubts. What did I really know of Caesar? What did anybody know? “I don’t feel like arguing about this. I seem to have this same argument with my wife every day lately.”
“You should listen to her,” Sallustius said. “She’s a Caesar.”
“So she may be descended from a goddess, but she isn’t one herself, anymore than her Uncle Caius Julius is a—Did you say you’ve been everyplace these months I’ve been away?”
“I was wondering how long it would take to work its way into your brain. I was going to let you have one more good rant before repeating it. I knew you would take more satisfaction in working it out for yourself.”
“And did your researches among Rome’s political plotters take you to the house of Marcus Fulvius?”
“Oh, yes. And it was a very inspiring setting for mapping out the glorious future of Rome, with its patriotic wall decorations and, well, you’ve been there I understand.”
“I have. Were you invited or did you just barge in after your inimitable fashion?”
“I was invited to dinner, along with several other senators and equites prominent in the assemblies. Curio was there, by the way. He was still with the optimates at the time, but was perceived to be wavering.”
“I take it that this assemblage was not random.”
“By no means. I noted at once that all the guests formed, you might say, a community of predicament.”
I mulled over what I knew of Marcus Fulvius and Curio so unalike in most ways. “Would indebtedness be the common denominator?”
“Very good! Yes, our host was most commiserative. He lamented that this was how a few wealthy men and bankers had gained such undue influence in Roman political life. Office is so ruinously expensive these days, and the only way a man of modest means can hope to be of service to the Senate and People is to go into debt.”
“Might I hazard the speculation that he had an answer to this vexing problem?”
“But of course. And there was none of that Catilinarian foolishness; no suggestion that you should go out and murder your father or set fire to the Circus. Marcus Fulvius and his patrons had a simple and somewhat drastic solution: cancellation of debts.”
“Stop.” I put out a hand. “Just hold it there for a moment. We have been talking thus far about reactionary aristocrats. A blanket cancellation of debt is radical beyond the most outrageous of radical policies. Even the Gracchi couldn’t manage it when they were trying to save the ruined farmers. Lucullus signed his own political death warrant when he tried to alleviate the tax-debt burden of the Asian cities. How did this nobody from Baiae propose to do what nobody has yet managed?”
“Oh, there would have to be proscriptions, of course. Unlike Sulla’s, though, these would fall most heavily upon the equites, particularly the bankers. The Senate and the bulk of the commons would hardly suffer at all. It’s not as far-fetched as it sounds and not all that repugnant. After all, do you know anybody who really likes bankers?”
“Only a dictator can proscribe.” I was beyond astonishment.
“Proscription is nowhere in the Constitution, although it happens when a tyrant seizes power. So there is nothing that says it is a power reserved solely for a dictator. A really powerful cabal could carry it off.”