The Year of Confusion(30)

“Caesar, I am my king’s ambassador, but even I—”

“You are no ambassador,” Caesar interrupted rudely. “You are some sort of diplomatic mercenary in the pay of a sovereign who is not your own. Go and report my words to him. Now get out of my sight.”

This was a rare spectacle even for the Senate of Rome. Archelaus and his entourage left with flaming faces, at which no one could be surprised. I noticed a number of senators giving them looks and gestures of sympathy. I had only the slightest acquaintance with Archelaus, but I felt his humiliation keenly.

Caesar rose from his curule chair and I saw a slight lurch, the faintest loss of balance, when he did so. I had always known him as a man of superb physical address. This slight lapse was as disturbing to me as anything that had happened that day. “Senators!” he said. “I now call a recess of this meeting. Go refresh yourselves. I shall wish to see some of you in one hour.” He called off several names and mine was among them. Then he went out by way of the door to the rear of the dais, just behind the statue of Pompey the Great.

The meeting broke up in confusion, as might be suspected. Little knots of senators formed to talk over the extraordinary events that had just transpired. The pro-Caesar and anti-Caesar factions were well represented, naturally. I went outside and found the group I wanted to join, standing in the shade of the portico. They were gathered around Cicero. Brutus was among them, along with Cassius Longinus, Calpurnius Piso, and other distinguished men. Cicero smiled when he saw me approach. He took my hands courteously. “Well, Decius Caecilius, what do you make of all this?” I was no longer of any great political importance since the destruction of my family, but Cicero acted as if my name still meant something.

“It’s the most remarkable performance I’ve ever seen him put on,” I said. “I saw him receive deputations of German barbarians in Gaul with greater respect.”

“But,” sputtered a conservative old senator, “did you hear how that man threw the name of Hannibal right into our faces?” There were mutters of agreement.

“Personally, I don’t blame the man,” said Brutus, surprising everyone. “He was provoked beyond endurance. So what if he is a Greek professional? Such persons have been employed for centuries when feelings between two nations are too intense for rational discourse. They are always to be accorded the courtesies due to ambassadors just as if they were fellow nationals of the powers that employ them.”

“That is very correct, Marcus Junius,” Cicero said. “What we just saw in there was something unprecedented. As dictator, Caesar has the constitutional right to act according to his own judgment, without having to consult the Senate or anyone else. But we have always chosen dictators who are men of sound principles, dedicated to the welfare of Rome.”

“That was when dictators were chosen by the Senate,” Cassius said. “Let us make no mistake about it, this dictatorship is unconstitutional, just like the dictatorship of Sulla. It is no more than a military coup. At least Sulla had the decency to step down from office once he had the constitution reordered to his liking. I do not foresee Caesar doing any such thing.”

“Not likely,” Cicero agreed, shaking his head sadly. “He has publicly declared Sulla’s abdication of office the act of a political moron.”

“What shall we do about this?” said a senator I now recognized as Cornelius Cinna, formerly Caesar’s brother-in-law.

“Do?” I said. “What can anyone do about a dictator? They are above the law and their powers override the constitution. Nobody has ever unseated a dictator.”

“But this situation cannot continue,” Cassius said. “I was at Carrhae and I want those eagles back as much as any man, but it must be done by a Roman army under constitutional command. We’ve had enough of one-man adventures in that part of the world.”

“I cannot accept even a dictator setting foreign policy that will last far beyond his own dictatorship,” Cicero said. “This has never been our way.”

With a sour feeling I saw in them the futility of the Senate, and the very reason Caesar had made himself dictator. The Senate, once the most remarkable body of men in the world, had degenerated into a pack of greedy, self-seeking politicians who had put their own narrow, selfish interests ahead of the common good of Rome. Even the ones like this lot, who were better than most, could only look back to some sort of idealized past with a vague notion of restoring the good old days.

Caesar was a man with a different vision. He saw the Senate as a futile body, so he ignored it or made use of it as he saw fit. He saw that the day of the old Republic was over and he replaced it with one-man rule. Since he was well aware that he was the best man in Rome, he saw no reason why he should not be that ruler.