"Senators, I stand before you as Rome's most loyal servant. Outside stand Rome's most capable soldiers. Use us! I did not just lead the greatest march in Roman history so that • I could stay here and build a villa and bask in the admiration of my peers. Senators, my march is not yet half-completed!"
The senators muttered and looked at one another. What could he mean?
"Senators, for more than a hundred years we let our minds be fixated upon one thought: Destroy Carthage! Like a man tracking a lion to its den, we thought only of going south, taking Sicily, and jumping off from there to attack the great city itself. We thought about this so single-mindedly that we left a back door open to the Carthaginians. We forgot that they could attack us from the north, despite the fact that Hannibal did that very thing! Only by luck and the favor of the gods did we survive this blunder. The soldiers fought like Romans always do, and the Carthaginian general, while better than ours, was no Hannibal. Look!"
He pointed a beringed finger at the golden model of Rome, then drew an imaginary line along the Italian coast northward to Cisalpine Gaul, then along its southern coast and that of Spain.
"I propose that I take my army and march north. I will pick up the legions that replaced those lost at the Arnus and with them proceed through Gaul to Spain and the Pillars of Hercules. I will take every city along my route: Massilia, Narbo, Cartago Nova and the rest. I will reduce them and make them swear obedience to Rome. Any natives who resist I will crush. Any Carthaginian army I meet I will destroy, and I swear by all the gods that I will not spare a single man who takes the pay of Hamilcar. All must die."
Now he looked at Africa. "From Spain I will cross the strait to Mauretania and then march east. I will make alliance with the kings and chieftains of Numidia and Libya. Failing that, I will crush them, too. I will strike the city of Carthage from the west, while the main force strikes from Sicily. We will have Carthage in a vise and she will crack open like rotten wood."
"How will such a campaign be supported, even supposing we agree to it?" Gabinius asked.
"I have a navy now, a very large one. It will accompany my march and will deal with any Carthaginian fleet that dares show itself."
An elderly Brutus stood. "Your army! Your fleet! Have you become Rome, young Norbanus?"
Norbanus did not flinch. "We knew what the gods wanted when the eagles flew south from Noricum. I think the gods have now shown that they favor me. Dare their displeasure if you will."
The Senate held its collective breath, but Jupiter sent no lightning.
"And I want the main thrust, to be launched from Sicily, to be commanded by my father, Titus Norbanus the elder."
The uproar was fit to rend the roof and send it skyward in tattered ribbons. The consuls sent their lictors into the bleachers to enforce silence.
"General Norbanus," said the Consul Gracchus when order was restored, "we cannot contemplate a major campaign in which members of the same family hold the highest command. We have already apportioned military duties for the upcoming invasion of Africa. Your father, the Proconsul Norbanus, of course has a splendid command, with three legions assigned to the first thrust against Carthage. But overall command has been given to the Proconsul Scaeva, hero of Syracuse. You both deserve honor, but not this." There came a rumble of agreement.
Now the elder Norbanus stepped forward. He had nothing like his son's dash and flair, and he wore plain iron mail of Gallic make and carried a simple bronze helmet beneath his arm, but he was a man of impressive gravity. "Noble senators, there will be quibbling in this house until we all die of old age. My son's war plan is bold, but it is worthy of Rome, where only greatness is acceptable. You may call for a division of the house, you may call for ten divisions. It does not matter, because this will be determined by the Roman people."
He swept the assembled senators with his eagle gaze. "Even now, the tribunes of the plebs are calling for an assembly. The Tribune Aemilius will place before the people a new law, the lex Aemilia, which will assign the commands for this war exactly as has just been outlined to you. That law will pass, I assure you. You can accede gracefully and ratify the law, or you can continue in stiff-necked opposition, but then you will only earn the contempt the people always give to obstinate aristocrats."
In the low mutter that followed this statement, Gabinius sat with his eyes closed, feeling every one of his many years. Much was clear now. All year there had been rumors: that young Norbanus was sending chests of money from the East, that some decidedly odd men were standing for the office of tribune of the plebs. He had paid little attention at the time. Strange things were bound to happen when all the best men were away with the legions. Now he understood what had been happening all along. The Norbani had accomplished something very like a coup.