Do not misunderstand me. Barbarians are usually far worse than we are and are mostly disgusting when they aren’t being ridiculous. People who get enslaved generally bring it on themselves by losing wars or being stupid; and if they have any decent qualities at all, they can work themselves out of that state.
All my life I have enjoyed being an aristocrat, loaded with privileges and able to lord it over most of the population. It is just that, unlike Cato, I don’t see any particular virtue inherent to the status of nobilitas. If my long life has taught me anything, it is that the only really vital quality to have is luck. Some have it and some do not, and it has nothing to do with character or inherited virtue. We can sacrifice and perform all the prescribed rituals to placate or buy off whatever god or goddess is in charge of whatever aspect of life; but in the end, the only one that counts is Fortuna, and there is absolutely nothing we can do to infiuence her.
The maddening thing was that I had to agree with Cato, at least when it came to the problem and what should be done about it. I have often noticed that the most frustrating thing in life is, not when people disagree with you, but rather when they agree for the wrong reason. It looked as if Cato and I were to be allies on this thing, yet I detested the man, his bullheaded obstinacy, his vile, self-righteous brutality, his total lack of any sense of proportion, his complacent pride in his ancestry, and any number of other qualities and actions I found repugnant.
“First off,” Cato said, “we must have names. With names we can bring charges before the court of the urban praetor. So far we have only Aemilius Scaurus and this contemptible contractor, Caninus. The former has already been in court a good deal of late, and the latter is little more than a glorified garbage hauler. We need more names, many names, and prominent ones. We’ll attract little attention just prosecuting these two.”
“I’m working on that,” I told him, “but there may be problems.”
“Eh? What sort of problems?”
“Well, if my past experience in this sort of investigation, which you know to be extensive, is anything to go by, people will soon be trying to kill me.”
He scowled. “So what? You’re a grown man. You should be able to take care of yourself. I myself have never shirked a fight, whether in foreign lands or right here in the Forum. If someone attacks you, kill him first. That’s what I always do.”
“Sage advice as always. Still, they may be more numerous than usual this time. They may succeed.”
“Then I shall just have to go on without you. Rest assured, I shall pursue this matter until the last malefactor is brought to justice. There are still some fine old punishments for corruption on the books. I shall find them.”
“I am sure you shall, Marcus Porcius, and knowing it is a great comfort to me.”
“What need has any true Roman of comfort?” He really talked that way.
I walked away from him greatly relieved that I wouldn’t have to talk to him again for a while. Disagreeable as the conference had been, I knew that he would work indefatigably on the case, and that he would put his clients to the same task, and that I might anticipate some progress soon. Awful as he was, Cato was a good man to have on your side.
In favor of Marcus Porcius Cato, I can say only this: He died splendidly, years later, in Utica.
Hermes and I made our belated way to the Temple of Ceres while I pondered my next move. When I saw the heap of old wood in the courtyard, a thought occurred to me.
“Hermes, go find the messengers assigned to the office. Send them out to locate Marcus Caninus and summon him here at once.”
Hermes trotted off, and I consulted with my clients and petitioners for a while. While we talked, I made them all accompany me on a short walk down to the river. The water was ankle deep on the wharves, and a quick examination revealed that it was almost to the tops of the sewer outlets. Soon all would be backing up; and as jammed as the side drains were, the water could stand in the City for weeks after the river receded.
I dispatched clients to check on the lower-lying areas of the City and report on their preparations and ability to weather the coming fiood.
In the last fioods, I recalled, people had crowded into temples, basilicas, and porticoes, anywhere that they could find a roof. Most, however, had simply huddled miserably on the higher parts of the Campus Martius and on hillsides outside the walls of the City. Those fioods had been accompanied by heavy rains, so sickness had been rampant and many people had died.
It occurred to me that we ought to have some sort of system to provide temporary relief in times of natural catastrophe. We had our old system of grain doles, but that was for times of siege, which had been rare in recent centuries. A warehouse or two holding tents or portable booths would make a great deal of difference. But who would pay for this and see to its maintenance? Oh, well, another problem to ponder.