The Tribune's Curse(26)

“First, and immediately, there must be a lustrum. Censors!” Servilius Vatia and Messala Niger stood. Vatia was a pontifex as well as a Censor. “Have you chosen the sacrificial victims for the lustrum required by your office?”

Messala, the younger of the two, answered: “The ritual is always performed in May. We have been too occupied with the Census to look at sacrificial beasts.”

“Then send out your assistants immediately. The rite must begin before sunrise tomorrow, and it must be completed, without failure or interruption, before sunset!”

Vatia said: “That should be plenty of time—”

“You misunderstand,” said the rex sacrorum. “This is not to be the conventional lustrum. The entire City must be purified before we can resume relations with our gods. That means that the sacrificial animals will not merely be carried around the citizens assembled by centuries on the Field of Mars. They must be carried around the entire circuit of the Servian Walls! Three times!”

At this a great collective gasp went up. It would be an absolutely Herculean task, but nobody thought to protest. If we lay under so great a curse, no mere formality would impress the gods. I felt sorry for the men who would have to accomplish the feat. Pompey must have been reading my thoughts.

“The people must see how seriously we regard this matter,” said the consul. “I want those animals carried by senators! Every man of this body who is under his fortieth year, and especially those who have recently returned from military service, are to report to the rex sacrorum at the end of these deliberations!”

I closed my eyes and buried my face in my palms. I should have stayed in Gaul.

Pompey recognized Cato. “I think,” Cato said, “that we should look into reviving the old custom of human sacrifice. That would be pleasing to both the gods and our ancestors.”

“Isn’t that just like Cato?” I muttered, this novelty taking my mind temporarily from my upcoming torment.

Cicero rose, and I knew from his malicious smile that he had been waiting for just this proposal from Cato.

“My learned colleague, Marcus Porcius Cato, raises an interesting point. While, as all men know, human sacrifice was forbidden by senatorial decree many years ago, it has been revived under circumstances of very special danger to the State from time to time. This particular instance presents us with certain problems in choosing a suitable victim. The usual sacrifices have been foreign captives or condemned criminals. However, this offense has insulted all the greatest gods of the State. Such a sacrifice would be contemptible to these deities. On the contrary, when sacrificial animals are chosen for sacrifice, they must be perfect in all respects.

“If we transfer this consideration to a human victim and choose him with the same rigor, ruthlessly rejecting those who display any defect of body or character, we should be hard put to find one pleasing to all the gods. He would have to be highborn, of the highest moral character, of unimpeachable honesty, and of perfect piety. In fact, since Marcus Porcius Cato is, by his own admission, the only Roman of this generation who possesses all these virtues, he must be the only suitable sacrifice! Cato, do you volunteer?”

Face flaming, Cato resumed his seat. There was much choking, coughing, and clearing of throats. If it hadn’t been such a solemn occasion, the curia would have experienced its greatest outburst of hilarity since the day Caesar had said his wife must be above suspicion, seven years earlier.

One after another, the heads of the priestly colleges spoke, as did others who were experts on ritual law. Pompey appointed a special commission, headed by Cicero, to examine all the religious implications of what had happened and come up with remedies. The lustrum was only the beginning, allowing us to address the gods in greater detail.

“Now,” Hortensius Hortalus said, “what are we to do about this renegade tribune, Caius Ateius Capito?”

“Nothing can be done to him now,” Pompey said, “but in less than two months’ time, both he and I will step down from office, and at that time I intend personally to prosecute him for sacrilege, for perduellio, and for maiestas! For offense against the gods, for offense against the State, and for offense against the Roman people! I want you, Hortensius, and you, Cicero, to assist me in this.”

“Gladly!” said both men at once.

Pompey turned to face the door outside of which was the bench of the tribunes. “Publius Aquillius Gallus!”

The man came to stand in the door, white faced. “Yes, Consul?”

“Of all the Tribunes of the People, you have been closest to Ateius in opposition to Crassus. What was your part in this matter?”