Текст книги "Empire"

Автор книги: Steven Saylor

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 45 страниц)

“Seditious talk!” someone said. “Rabble-rousing!”

Titus raised his hands to quiet the clamour. “I’m merely saying that something has stirred up all those people. Every one of you in this chamber is stirred up, as well. Perhaps we should at least state the case of those who are asking for mercy, so that we can examine the argument clearly.” There, that was better, he thought, feeling that he had quieted his listeners and regained their full attention. He noticed that a scribe was taking down his words, no doubt using the shorthand famously invented by Cicero’s secretary, Tiro.

“Given the circumstance of this atrocious crime,” he went on, “who can doubt that the vast majority of slaves in the household of Pedanius are completely innocent of any wrongdoing? This appears to be a crime of passion, not a conspiracy involving other slaves and hatched over time. Unless a slave was actually in the room, or at least close enough to overhear what was happening, how could that slave possibly have prevented the crime? There is also the fact that in such a large household – four hundred or more slaves – there must be a great many who are old and infirm, or young and frail, or women, some of whom may be pregnant. Shall all those slaves die, despite their innocence? What if a slave is blind? What if he is deaf, or mute-”

“And what if a slave is blind, deaf, and mute?” shouted someone.

“Then put him to death for sure, since he’s no good to anyone!” shouted another, prompting a gale of laughter.

“Unless he’s as pretty as that boy Pedanius was diddling,” said someone else. This went too far. The offending senator received boos and angry looks.

“Senators!” shouted Titus, trying to regain their attention. “I have asked myself, why has this proceeding elicited such an unprecedented response from so many common citizens? I think I know some of the reasons. First, there has been no crime like this in recent memory, nor has there been the prospect of a slaughter of slaves on such a massive scale, at least not here in Roma. If such crimes occurred, and such massive punishments were exacted, it must have happened at a farm or country villa, where those slaves were unknown to anyone outside their own household. But this household of slaves is different. They reside here in the city, where they live and work and move about freely. These slaves must be known not only to fellow slaves in other households, but to shopkeepers and artisans and all sorts of citizens who have dealings with them. Some are errand boys and messengers, some are seamstresses and hairdressers, some are cooks and cleaners, some are bookkeepers and scribes, highly educated and valuable slaves deserving a degree of respect. Some are near the age of death. Some are newborn, just beginning life. Some are in the prime of life, at the peak of their usefulness and value. Some are pregnant and about to bring forth new life. These victims of the law are not a faceless crowd but are human beings known to their neighbours, and so we cannot be surprised if there are murmurs throughout the city that the law is too harsh.

When there is such an outcry, even here in the Senate, can no exception to the law be made?”

Well, thought Titus, that was not so hard after all. He felt rather pleased with himself. In his fantasies, this was the point at which the entire chamber erupted in applause, even from those who opposed him but admired his courage for taking a stand. Instead, after a few scattered cries of “Hear! Hear!” and some desultory murmurs of assent, the end of his speech was met by a silence almost as deep as that which preceded it.

Gaius Cassius Longinus rose to speak.

“Caesar, and esteemed fellow senators,” he said, “often have I been present in this assembly when demands were made to alter or dilute or do away entirely with the customs and laws of our ancestors. In every single instance, those changes were for the worse. Yes, in every instance the laws made by our ancestors were superior to the innovations proposed to replace them. Yet often I’ve kept my mouth shut and let the majority have its way, wishing not to become known as one of those stalwarts of the law who grows wearisome by always exalting ancient precedent. I was holding my fire, if you will, for a time when my voice truly would be needed to prevent a terrible error by the state. That time is now!

“An ex-consul has been deliberately murdered in his house by one of his own slaves. Not one of the other slaves did a thing to prevent this crime, though the law is clear that this was their duty. Vote to spare them, if you like. But if a city prefect is not safe in his own home, who among us will be? Who will have enough slaves to protect him, if the four hundred of Pedanius were not enough? Who can rely on a slave’s help, if even the threat of death is not enough to make a slave help you?

“I have sat here in silence and listened to the account of the ‘facts’ in this matter, which impute various unseemly behaviours on the part of Pedanius. I ask you, since the dead man cannot speak for himself, how and from whom where these ‘facts’ obtained? From the two slaves present at his murder, of course – the killer himself and the killer’s young paramour. No doubt this ‘evidence’ was obtained as the law prescribes, under torture, but I think we can discount their story as an utter fabrication, concocted to blacken the name of their victim and to elicit sympathy for themselves. Next we will be hearing that this murder was justifiable homicide, and Pedanius got what he deserved! Dust has been thrown in your eyes, Senators, and not by a skilled advocate, but by slaves. Shame on you!

“We also hear the argument that the other household slaves could not have known that their master was threatened. I don’t believe this for a moment. Do you seriously think that a slave plotted to killed his master without uttering a single rash or menacing word beforehand, to someone in the household? Even if this insanely jealous lover kept silent about his intention, how did he obtain a knife without anyone noticing and wondering what he meant to use it for? How did he penetrate to his master’s bedroom, past the watchman, and carrying a lamp, mind you, without anyone seeing?

“But even if some of the slaves suspected that their master was in danger, you may say, surely most of the slaves were ignorant of the fact. Perhaps. But I say that every slave in that household, whatever his degree of complicity, is irrevocably contaminated by the crime. Even a slave born into the household that very morning is contaminated and must be destroyed, like a rabid dog. Imagine a slave growing up, knowing that his first master was brutally murdered by one of his own kind and that slaves like himself went unpunished. Would such a slave have an understanding of his place in the world and of the immutable respect he owes to his owner? Would you want that slave in your household, growing up with the knowledge of a murdered master in his head, inevitably spreading that knowledge to others? I think not!

“Some of you act as if we are encountering such a crime for the very first time and must come to some momentous decision never made before. Even if a similar crime occurred in the past, you argue, this case is somehow unique and requires our special consideration. Nonsense! There is nothing new here, no novel and unprecedented situation that must be debated and settled. Our ancestors saw situations no different from this, dealt with those situations in the best possible manner, and handed their precedents down to us. Are you so ungrateful that you spurn their gifts? Are you so vain that you consider yourselves wiser than they?

“Our ancestors were distrustful of their slaves, even though those slaves were born on the same estates, sometimes even in the same house, as their masters. Lifelong familiarity did not reduce their suspicion of their slaves or induce them to treat those slaves with greater leniency. The situation we face today is far more perilous. Nowadays our huge households are filled with slaves from all over the world. Those slaves speak all sorts of languages – who knows what they say behind our backs? They practise all sorts of religions – or none at all. They form all sorts of cliques among themselves, and even join foreign, secret cults without our knowledge. We must be on our guard inside our own households now more than ever. The only way to deal with this motley rabble is by intimidation and a strict adherence to the law.

“Innocent people will die, you say. But the law has long recognized that the suffering of individuals is justified by the benefit to all. When a Roman legion suffers defeat and every tenth man is clubbed to death for shame, brave men may die along with cowards, but by such strict measures our ancestors built armies that have conquered the world. Those same ancestors gave us the law which we discuss today. Think long and hard before you trifle with it. Dismiss the law, and who knows what terrible consequences will follow. Uphold the law, and your children will sleep more safely in their beds tonight.”

Titus had dreamed of a rousing ovation, but it was Cassius who received it. Amid the cheering and applause, Titus overheard a nearby senator comment to another, “And that’s why Cassius is the best jurist alive!”

“The finest master of the law since Cicero,” said the other senator.

Rebuttals were invited. No one stepped forth.

The Senate voted by dividing the chamber. Those in favour of upholding the law without mitigation were to sit in the seats to the emperor’s right; those who wished to make some exception to the law were to sit on the emperor’s left.

Titus, who was already to Nero’s left, stayed where he was. The senators he had just overheard rose to their feet at once and crossed the chamber, as did Cassius, whose poor eyesight required him so seek assistance; numerous admirers rushed forward to claim the privilege of helping him. There was a great deal of movement back and forth, with groups of senators lingering in the middle of the room, engaged in last-moment discussions.

As always, Titus was amused to see which senators remained undecided until the last possible moment, standing in the middle of the chamber and looking anxiously from side to side to see which way the vote was trending. It was the same senators every time, the ones who had no opinions of their own and invariably voted with the majority, once they could determine which side the majority had taken.

When everyone was finally settled, there was no need for a count. Although a substantial number of senators had voted for leniency – far more than Titus had expected after Cassius’s rousing speech – the clear majority was in favour of the law. Without exception, all the slaves in the household of Pedanius were condemned to death by crucifixion. Preparations had already been made, and the sentence would be carried out that very day.

Nero had stayed out of the argument. It was his prerogative to speak at any time, but though he had listened attentively, he had said nothing. But after the session was formally closed, and the senators began to rise from their seats, a messenger ran to the dais and whispered in Nero’s ear, whereupon he rose to feet.

Seneca banged a staff on the floor. All eyes turned to the emperor.

“Senators,” said Nero, “I am told that the crowd outside has grown more numerous, and that many among them are now brandishing torches and clubs. It seems they have been informed of your judgement, and they are not pleased.”

“But the announcement hasn’t yet been made,” said a senator near Titus. “Who told them?”

“Probably one of the imperial slaves,” said another. “They’re constantly running in and out of the chamber.”

Shouting was audible from the Forum, even though the Senate House doors were closed. When the bronze doors were opened, moving slowly on their massive hinges, the muffled clamour from outside rose to a roar.

Titus followed the other senators onto the porch. He was shocked by what he saw.

The crowd had grown much bigger. The Forum was a sea of angry, shouting faces. Men stood alongside statues, on their pedestals, and on the steps and porches of every building in sight. The crowd had even overrun the venerated speaker’s platform, the Rostra, where men waving torches sat astride the famous ships’ beaks that projected over the crowd.

At the sight of the senators emerging from the Senate House, the crowd surged forward, rushing halfway up the steps before Nero’s Praetorian guards formed a cordon to stop them. They shouted, shook their fists, and brandished clubs. Some farther back in the crowd dared to throw stones at the Praetorians, who raised their shields to protect themselves. The clatter was deafening.

Titus anxiously scanned the crowd and was relieved to see that his bodyguards were right where he had left them. But he would not rejoin them yet; Titus had no intention of attempting to pass through such an angry mob. It was a sad day, when wearing a senatorial toga in the heart of Roma could make a man feel like a target!

“This is madness,” whispered Titus.

“This is exactly the sort of behaviour a speech like yours encourages,” said Senator Cassius, drawing alongside him.

“That’s absurd,” said Titus. “These people weren’t present in the chamber to hear my speech.”

“Nor were they present to see the result of the vote, yet they knew of it quickly enough. Slaves talk. And knowing that there are senators who sympathize with their cause, indeed are willing to argue for it on the floor on the Senate, however recklessly, only encourages such people to think they may obtain what they want by agitation.”

“What’s to be done?” asked Titus.

“Since this rabble lacks the self-discipline of their betters, they can be dispersed only by force.”

Nero apparently thought otherwise. While the senators continued to huddle on the porch, seeing no safe way to leave, an imperial herald pushed though their ranks and took up a position at the top of the steps. He blew a horn repeatedly until the mob grew quiet enough for him to be heard.

Such heralds were chosen for their ringing voices. This one was able to project sufficiently to fill the vast space, so that his words echoed back from buildings across the way. “Citizens, Caesar has proclaimed an edict! Listen well!”

Amid the hush there were shouts of “Nero! Nero will show mercy! Caesar will save us from the unjustness of the Senate!”

Was such a thing possible? Nero had the power to override the Senate on many matters, but would he choose to do so on this occasion? In the ancient days of the city, when Roma was ruled by kings, it was said that the monarch often took the side of the common people against the rich nobles. Kings had as much cause to fear the nobility as did commoners, so kings and commoners made natural allies. Would Nero take this opportunity to reach out to the people, over the heads of the Senate, and make himself the hero of the rabble? Could even Nero afford to flout the law and make enemies of so many in the Senate?

When the herald spoke, the crowd’s hopes were dashed. “The Senate has debated the issue which concerns you. The Senate has reached it judgement. The law will be upheld. The sentence will be carried out. Caesar admonishes you for this unseemly and threatening behaviour. This gathering is declared unlawful. You are hereby ordered to disperse at once!”

The mob reacted with howls of protest. More stones were hurled. Some landed near the herald, who quickly retreated.

More torches were passed though the crowd and set alight. The sight of so many flames was alarming. What were these people thinking, to use fire as a threat? An open flame was a force no man could control; fire could sweep anywhere, destroy anything if its power was unchecked. In the last years of the Republic, the Senate House itself had been incinerated by an angry mob. The Divine Augustus had rebuilt it in greater splendour. Was it now to be burned again?

Scanning the crowd, Titus suddenly spotted a familiar face. Hackles rose on the back of his neck. It was Kaeso. His brother was part of the mob. No, not a mere participant, but some sort of ringleader! Kaeso was brandishing a torch in the very faces of the Praetorians protecting the Senate steps, waving with his other arm and yelling encouragement to those around him.

Titus shook his head. Just as he had harboured the false hope of receiving the accolades of his fellow senators for making a fine speech, so he had been looking forward to telling Kaeso what he had done, to let his brother know that he was not such an unfeeling fellow after all, in fact that he had done something rather courageous, especially considering his position in society. What a change that would have been, to receive some approval, even praise from Kaeso! But here was Kaeso, spoiling things, as always, not just taking part in the demonstration but yelling louder than anyone else and making a spectacle of himself. Titus cringed; what if one of his fellow senators noticed Kaeso in the crowd, took a good look at him, and despite the shaggy beard and wild-eyed expression noted his resemblance to Titus and realized who he was? If the other senators knew that his brother was one of the leaders of the mob, Titus would be mortified.

Suddenly his brother looked back at him. Kaeso’s reaction at seeing him exactly matched that of Titus on seeing Kaeso. He blanched, looked shocked and appalled, then disgusted and angry. The twins stared at each other for a long moment, as if looking into a distorting mirror. Then, as neither could bear to look at the other a moment longer, at the same instant they turned their gazes elsewhere.

Soon the tramp of marching feet echoed through the Forum. Having failed to quell the mob with his edict, Nero had summoned more Praetorians from their garrison outside the city. As the ranks of grim-faced soldiers converged with swords drawn, many in the crowd panicked and fled at once. Others pulled back reluctantly, throwing rocks as they withdrew. A few dared to stand up to the Praetorians, wielding their bludgeons and torches.

Titus looked for Kaeso, but he had disappeared in the surging crowd.

To reinforce the Praetorians, Nero also called up the vigiles, the troop of trained firefighters first organized by Augustus. The vigiles also acted as night watchmen and sometimes apprehended runaway slaves. They wore leather helmets instead of armour and carried firefighter’s pickaxes, not swords, but their discipline made them more than a match for the shopkeepers and labourers in the crowd.

A few heads were broken and some blood was spilled, but soon the mob dispersed. While the vigiles extinguished the abandoned torches scattered around the Forum, the Praetorians regrouped and headed for the house of Pedanius, where the slaves were being kept under guard.

Within the hour, the slaves were driven to the place of execution outside the city, with Praetorians lining the entire route to forestall any interference. Normally the crucifixions would have been a public event – the larger the crowd, the better, for the purpose of moral instruction – but once the slaves were outside the walls, the Praetorians closed the Appian Gate and diverted all traffic from the Appian Way.

The crucifixions were carried out with no spectators. The work went on through the day and into the night.

The next morning, with Praetorians still patrolling the area, the Appian Gate and the Appian Way were reopened for traffic. For travellers arriving from the south, their first view of the city’s outskirts was the grisly display of Roman justice that lined the road. From within the city a steady stream of citizens came to witness the fate of the 400 slaves of Pedanius. Some gawked, speechless. Some muttered angry words. Some wept.

The crucified bodies remained on display for many days. Most of the senators found time to go and take a look at their handiwork, including Gaius Cassius Longinus, who cursed the failing eyesight that prevented him from beholding the full splendour of Roman justice.

Titus Pinarius did not go to see the crucifixions. He tried to forget everything that had happened that terrible day in the Senate House.