The Sacrilege(34)

Making money was a passion with Crassus, almost a sickness. Many of his contemporaries strove for power, believing that wealth would come to them as the natural concomitant of power. Crassus was the first Roman to understand that wealth was power. Others struggled for years to obtain high military commands so that they could win loot and glory in foreign lands. Crassus knew that he could buy an army at any time.

I was suspicious of Crassus at this time. Of course, it was all but impossible not to be suspicious of him. He was involved in so many intrigues, most of them involving money, that it was unthinkable to sort through them all. We all knew that he had dealings with Ptolemy the Flute-Player, the putative King of Egypt. But Ptolemy always needed money, so it was natural for him to court Crassus. Crassus was angling in the Senate for a war with Parthia. We had no particular quarrel with Parthia, but it was the last really rich nation on our borders and he wanted a chance at it before Pompey got it. Pompey’s single-minded pursuit of military glory matched Crassus’s passion for money. They hated each other, but they could cooperate on occasion.

My reasons for calling on him were a bit devious. Ordinarily I took pains to avoid Crassus, but I was curious about his political orientation, which might well have shifted while I was away from Rome. Most especially, I was unsure of his attitude toward Clodius. My quasi-official status gave me the opportunity to pry.

I found him in his atrium with a pack of cronies. They watched him when I entered to see what attitude they should take. He smiled and came to me with hand outstretched, so they relaxed. Crassus could be as jovial as Lucullus when it suited him, but his good-fellowship never extended as far as his eyes. We exchanged the usual greetings and he asked after my father’s health. I glanced around the room and did not see his son, the younger Marcus Crassus.

Briefly, I explained to him my mission, and he nodded his understanding of its political subtleties.

“Messy business,” he said. “I quite understand Celer’s concerns about Clodia. That woman never brought any man anything but trouble.”

I did not point out his own sinister dealings with the woman. It was a part of such unspoken truces as lay between me and Crassus that such things remained unspoken until hostilities broke out afresh.

“Then you can understand my difficulty,” I said. “I can’t very well confront Felicia directly”—I did not mention my agreement with Julia, naturally—“and Marcus the Younger would be gravely insulted if I approached him, but as paterfamilias, you could handle these matters.” I expected no help from him. This was for the sake of form.

“I shall be more than glad to,” he lied jovially.

“What do you think Clodius was doing?” I asked.

“Just another of his idiotic pranks, no doubt. What genuine mischief could he accomplish at a women’s religious ritual? His ideas of fun are as harebrained as his political ideas.”

This was new. “I hadn’t heard that he had any political thoughts. Thoughts of any nature whatever, for that matter.”

“Say you so? That’s right, you’ve been out of Rome this past year, haven’t you?”

“Enlighten me,” I said. “I know he wants to be tribune if he can switch his status to plebeian, but I had thought that he had no purpose in mind except to make trouble.”

“Trouble is the very word. He has become a man of the people, you see. He plans to make the grain dole a permanent right of every citizen, free of charge.”

“That is radical,” I said, my mind turning over the possibilities. The grain dole had been around from earliest times as an emergency relief measure. It had been instituted in the days when the farmers of the countryside had taken refuge within the walls of Rome in times of siege. It was revived frequently in times of famine or other want, and sometimes as a celebration to mark an important occasion. Every citizen had his name enrolled on the dole. In fact, the old expression “receiver of the dole” meant “citizen” and was used as such even by the wealthiest of us, who would never actually have to apply for relief.

“That’s not the worst of it. He’s already canvassing among the plebeian tribal assembly, promising to pass this outrageous legislation if they will elect him tribune.”

I was stunned. This was beyond the most outrageous excesses of our electoral process. Ordinarily, one devoted years of service to the public, and then demanded election as a reward, never omitting to cite one’s distinguished ancestry. No one had ever thought of promising the electorate favors after being elected. Even Caesar had not come up with that one. This thought led me into some speculation, which was interrupted by Crassus.