Res Publica: A Quest of Ancient Rome

"There will come a time, young Atellus, when neither knowledge of the law, nor eloquent oratory, nor even being in the right will avail you in court."

As had become their habit, they sat where they had first met, on Scaevola's balcony, overlooking Rome. The view frequently served as a prop in these little discussions. The Pontifex Maximus, Quintus Cingulatus had discovered, possessed a well-developed melodramatic streak.

But then, such are the requirements of oratory.

Now, though, the old man seemed subdued. More, for the first time Atellus could recall, his age seemed to diminish him rather than enhance his dignitas. Weariness hung on him like a burial shroud, the grey of his eyes now less iron and more aged, crumbling stone.

"Bribery," Atellus ventured at last, seeking to break a silence grown suddenly oppressive.

Scaevola frowned.

"That is a large part of it, yes, but it is not the whole of the problem. It comes back to our Roman hatred of bureaucracy, and that venomous demagogue Gaius Gracchus." He paused, looking expectantly at his pupil.

Used by now to his teacher's foibles, Atellus considered the thread of their conversation, and followed it to its logical conclusion.

"Tax farming in Asia," he said, "and equestrian juries."

"Just so," Scaevola said, smiling bitterly. "And thus were the equestrians simultaneously handed both the opportunity to enrich themselves beyond even their wildest, most deluded hopes, and the means to evade the consequences of their crimes against the Republic's name and abuse of her subjects. Gaius Gracchus was a grasping fool and an aspiring tyrant, but I wonder if he realised what harm he wrought with that, what poison he loosed in the very heart of the Republic." His voice strengthened, ringing with conviction as rage restored his animus.

"The publicani and their ilk are a cancer. They know nothing of what it means to be Roman, nothing of the virtues and traditions our strength is built on. The lowest drunkard in Rome's meanest gutter knows more of restraint and self-discipline. Their wanton exploitation almost beggared Asia, and the naked cruelty with which they pursue it led the province to welcome Mithridates with open arms. They are a cancer, and I grow increasingly convinced they must be excised like one."

He subsided, glaring out over the city, his earlier frailty burned away like morning mist under the sunlight of righteous fury.

"Are they truly untouchable in the courts, then?" Atellus asked quietly. Scaevola's words had been quite a blow to his image of Rome. A boy's image, he would freely concede, but no less treasured for that.

For if it is not Rome as it is, it is Rome as she should be. And how shall that come to pass if those of us who are to lead her do not hold the ideal close to our hearts?

Scaevola gave another bitter smile.

"I assume you have heard of what became of Rutilius Rufus." It was not a question. "A former consul, exiled from Rome, denied all those things that make a citizen a citizen, and all for the crime of helping me to attempt to restrain the publicani in their shameless rape of Asia."

"More than an attempt, surely. I have heard that the locals still celebrate a festival in your honour," Atellus interjected.

Scaevola gestured curtly. "I am not yet so old as to need cosseting boy. Now, let me come to the point. Rufus had the support of Antonius Orator, Crassus Orator, and myself. All modesty aside, any one of us could stand as peer to Demosthenes. All three together? The match has not yet been seen. But gold has an eloquence unsurpassed by any man, and the Equestrian Order are not likely to stopper their ears against its blandishments. And did not, that day."

They sat in silence for some minutes, the dull roar of the greatest city in the world washing over them, before Scaevola stirred again.

"Their short-sightedness mystifies me," he admitted. "It is right and proper for a man to profit from his service to the Republic, so long as the Republic profits from his service, but the publicani consume until nothing is left. They would have been as wealthy in five years under my administration as they would have been left to their own devices, and wealthier in ten. Aye, and Mithridates would yet be entangled in Cappadoccia and Bithynia. But as well wish for the Tiber to flow with Falernian as for mortal men to not be fools."

Atellus hesitated a moment before speaking.

"I fear I may not show the same aptitude for it as I have for other subjects, but my interest is piqued. Where would you suggest I seek further knowledge in such matters?"

The Pontifex Maximus gave him a long, searching look.

"I do not like to speak of my time in Asia," he said at last. "The memories are tainted. But I will give you what notes I have remaining. You are bright enough to gain something from that, I think, and we shall see where we go from there."

Scaevola was as good as his word. Within two days Atellus found his room overflowing with scroll buckets crammed with rolls of finest papyrus covered in the old man's spidery script.