Final campaign, p.54
Final Campaign, page 54
part #7 of Marching With Caesar Series
"Oh, I wouldn't bet on that," Diocles said, a trifle smugly, truth be known. "You Romans are famous for turning on family members."
It was decided that Diocles would do the preliminary work of finding out where the former Tribune Claudius lived, while I requested another meeting with Agrippa to determine if what I wanted to do was even possible. At first, Diocles was adamantly opposed to this approach, insisting that it would be better to proceed under the assumption that any man who had served as a Tribune was eligible, but my instinct told me that, as devoted as Octavian was to the letter of the law, this would be a very bad idea. Finally, we reached something of a compromise; while I would broach this with Agrippa, even if he turned my request down, that did not preclude me from calling Claudius as a character witness, at the very least. Diocles' reasoning was that, if we could cast doubt on the veracity of Lucullus' testimony, by way of a member of his own family, then perhaps we would not need him to be my defender. Normally, I would send Diocles to Octavian's villa to try to obtain an appointment with Agrippa, but he now had his own task. That was not the only reason I decided just to show up unannounced at the villa, however. In essence, this was going to be a surprise attack; my hope was that I would be able to capitalize on catching Agrippa unprepared, because I sensed that there was at least a streak of sympathy in Octavian's most trusted lieutenant. Perhaps, in a moment of weakness, I could prevail upon him to impart to me some information that would help my cause. I even harbored the hope, very faint, that I might actually gain an audience with Octavian himself, if only to look into his ice-blue eyes in an attempt to get a sense of whether I was an actual object of his malice, or was merely like those unlucky tribesmen of Alesia all those years ago, who had been expelled from the town to simply die a lingering, horrible death. Was I just a means to an end? I wondered. If so, perhaps there was hope that I could prevail upon Octavian, calling on that wide-eyed teenager who had wanted so desperately to dine with Titus Pullus of Caesar's 10th Equestris. If, I acknowledged, that had not just been an act, another of his artifices, like his built-up shoes and his perfect mimicry of Caesar's mannerisms. Faint hopes they may have been, but they were all I had at that moment.
"This is unexpected," Marcus Agrippa told me, and his irritation was plainly written on his face as he glared at me from behind his desk.
Not only had I shown up unannounced, but using my status, and my reputation, I am sure, I cowed the Optio in charge of the Praetorian detachment on duty at the main entrance to allow me to pass without running off and essentially giving a warning. Forcing myself to remember the way, albeit with two wrong turns, I finally found the right hallway and approached the two Guardsmen at the door to Agrippa's office. The men at the door were different from the pair the day before, but they were still rankers, and I was still a Camp Prefect, even if it was for only a short while longer, so a growled order to remain at intente was sufficient to allow me to rap on the door. When Agrippa barked for whoever it was disturbing him to enter, I took a deep breath then opened it. Now, he was sitting there, clearly surprised, which was my objective, although I must say that the thought pressing its way to the front of my mind was "now what?"
"Well?" he finally relented in his attempt to wither me. "What can I do for you, Camp Prefect?"
"I looked at the list of Tribunes you gave me." This part, I had rehearsed. "And none of these names are known to me. I don't think it's reasonable to expect me to choose a man whose qualities I don't know when the matter is so serious."
Agrippa sat back, a slightly shocked expression crowding his previous look of consternation off of his face. He did not say anything for a moment, but I refused to break my gaze, looking down at him as steadily as I could, happy that I had worn my muscled cuirass that hid the fact that my heart was pounding so heavily that I knew it would have made my tunic jump.
Finally, he acknowledged, "That is a good point, Pullus."
His eyes narrowed suspiciously as his mind turned over the problem I had just thrust at him, and I reminded myself that, while Agrippa was in a clearly subordinate position to Octavian, it had nothing to do with an intellect inferior to the man he served. In fact, I suspected that Agrippa was a match for Octavian in that respect, and it would not have surprised me if he was Octavian's intellectual superior.
Therefore, I was not that surprised when he continued, "But I suspect that you didn't come here to inform me of this without some sort of alternative in mind."
"Yes, sir, you're correct," I replied, seeing no need to be coy about it. Drawing a breath, I plunged ahead. "I request that I be allowed to pick from those men who have served as Tribunes before, either of the broad or narrow stripe."
Agrippa frowned as he tried to puzzle out where I was going.
After a moment, his expression cleared and he said softly, "Ah. I see. You want someone with whom you've served to defend you."
Again, I saw no point in denying it, impressed that he had worked this out so quickly.
"Yes, sir. Someone I know. And trust with my life," I added.
Pressing his fingertips together, his expression went opaque as he asked evenly, "And who might that be?"
"Tribune Claudius, who served with me during Marcus Crassus' campaign," I replied.
"But he's related to Lucullus! As I recall, they're first cousins," was Agrippa's first response.
Before I could open my mouth to make any reply, his eyes narrowed again and he gave a soft chuckle, but with no humor in it.
"Which is why you want him as your defense. Because it will be doubly effective that it's a member of Lucullus' own family willing to attack Lucullus' credibility."
Agrippa regarded me for a moment, with an expression that I could not place. With his next words, I understood why he was looking at me with seemed to be a mixture of respect and revulsion.
"I must hand it to you, Pullus. That's an extraordinarily cunning thing to do. It's a move worthy of a patrician of Rome."
We both knew he did not mean that as a compliment, but I did not begrudge him his feelings. In some ways, Agrippa was like me; a new man who had risen on ability, but for whom his ancestry was not the source of pride that is such a part of the makeup of the upper classes of Rome. As I am sure you know, gentle reader, the rumor is that Marcus Agrippa's grandfather was a slave. Now the second most powerful man in Rome, I was sure that Agrippa was as aware as I was that no matter what he accomplished, he would still not be good enough to some of the older families of Rome. The thought crossed my mind that it was entirely possible that one of those very people who might feel this way was the young Claudius himself, given that he came from one of the oldest and most respected families of Rome. Maybe this was not the best idea, I thought as I watched Agrippa considering.
Finally, he stood up and said only, "Wait here."
He exited the room by a door I had not noticed before, because it was behind a tapestry hanging from the wall behind his desk. I do not know how long I waited, but it seemed to be a very long while before I heard the sound of the door, followed by a billowing of the tapestry as he reappeared from behind it, reminding me of something I might see during one of the mime shows that are so popular. Searching his face for any clue that might give me a hint, it was in his refusal to meet my gaze that I got my answer.
"I've consulted with Augustus," he announced as soon as he had seated himself. "And it is denied. You’ll have to use one of the Tribunes on the list we provided to you."
Despite having prepared myself for this possibility, his answer was almost like a physical blow, and I felt my knees sag. My mind raced, trying to summon the right words, but I knew that there would be no changing Octavian's mind. So instead, I was about to tell Agrippa that I was going to at least call Claudius as a character witness, but something stopped me. It had become clear to me that there would be absolutely no help coming from Octavian in any form. And if Octavian was unwilling to do anything, I could not imagine Agrippa doing anything any different. Stiffening to intente, I saluted Agrippa, and prepared to excuse myself.
"I'm sorry, Pullus," Agrippa said quietly, after returning my salute. "I truly am. But there are...forces and matters concerning Rome and its future that are greater than any one man's fate."
"That's easy to say when you're not the one who's going to be crushed under the wheel," I blurted out, unable to hide my bitterness.
If Agrippa was offended, he gave no sign. Instead, he gave a slow nod of his head.
"That's true, Pullus. That is certainly true. And ..." He hesitated for a moment, then said, "For what it's worth, I do believe a great injustice is being done to you. And I will do what I can after the decision is rendered to make sure the punishment is as light as I can make it."
"I...I appreciate that, sir," was all I could think to say.
Saluting again, I turned about and left the room, my mind whirling with the import of what I had just heard. For I had learned something that was even more important than whether I could get Claudius as my defender: Agrippa had just told me in so many words that my fate was already decided.
Unfortunately, the news was not much better from Diocles, although he had located where Claudius lived. As I expected, it was on the Palatine, but in something of a surprise, Diocles informed me that he had his own residence, apart from his father, which was a bit unusual. The younger Claudius' domicile was on the lower slopes than that of his father, and while that meant that in theory it would be easier to contact him, I no longer saw the point. Telling Diocles of what had transpired with Agrippa, I left nothing out, and I saw that he was as upset about it as I had been. Unlike me, he was not ready to give up.
"Just because we can't use him as our defense, I still think that you should talk to him. He could still be useful as a character witness."
"If they'd allow it and, at this point, I don't see that happening," I said morosely.
Diocles' hand clamped down on my arm with a strength that surprised me, and I am not ashamed to say that my little Greek actually made me wince in pain.
"Don't you dare give up," he snapped at me, obviously forgetting our respective roles. "This isn't over! It won't be over until you take your last breath! You're Titus Pullus! You are a hero of the 10th Legion! You are one of the best-known men under the standard of our time! If you give up now, I will never forgive you!"
I stared at Diocles in open shock; I could not remember a time I had seen him so impassioned and angry. In fact, I was the one who broke the stare between us, looking down at the table, more than a little ashamed of myself. Diocles was right. I had simply come too far and endured too much to simply fold up my tent and accept defeat. While I will not deny that this was mostly self-interest speaking, it was also the knowledge of how much I would be disappointing other people, who had, over the years, expressed such faith and trust in me. What sort of example was I setting for Gaius if I gave up? Or more importantly, young Titus? How could I shame him in this way?
"You're right," I said finally, and that was the last bout of self-pity and defeatism in which I indulged myself.
Turning my mind to more practical matters, I mused, "I'm going to have to catch him alone, but in a way that won't alarm him and make him think I'm there to do him harm. Did you see him?"
Diocles shook his head.
"No, I didn't. In fact, I asked some of the slaves who are owned by his neighbors on either side, and they said they hadn't seen him about for a week or more. They said normally they saw him at least once a day, usually more, but always once a day at a certain time."
"When?"
"Shortly before dark, he would head down the hill towards the Forum."
"Probably heading out to go carousing or whoring," I considered. "Did they give you any idea where?"
Again, he shook his head.
"So," I asked him, "any ideas about how I find young Claudius?"
Diocles considered, then nodded his head.
"Yes," he replied slowly. "I think there is a way. But it means spreading a bit of money around." He gave me a sudden grin. "And we both know how much you hate doing that."
I had to laugh; Diocles was certainly speaking the truth. It is not that I am miserly, or at least so I like to believe, but since I had for so long accustomed myself to saving every as, denarius, sesterce, or obol that came my way because of my ambition to become an equestrian, it was a hard habit to break. However, of all the times I needed to spend freely, this was it. After all, I reasoned, since it was so unlikely that I was going to become an equestrian, I had no reason not to spend money. Dead men are very rarely elevated to the next class.
Thus began a very tense next few days, as the trial of Primus drew ever closer. Diocles spent most of his day gone, but unusually, he refused to divulge where he was spending his time or what he was doing. I, on the other hand, did little more than take long rides in the country with Ocelus. My rationale was simple; unless and until I could make contact with Claudius, there was not much else I could do. I was risking everything on one throw of my dice, if only because I could not think of anything else. It would all come down to Claudius, and my hope that he upheld his oath, given to me after I saved his life. Of all the hopes and risks, this was the slenderest reed of them all, especially given my experience with the perfidy of the upper classes, but it was all I had. Until I knew, I decided to spend as much time riding my horse as I could, in the event that we would be separated after my trial. The best I could hope for was to be stripped of not only my rank, but all of my property, and exiled. The fact that this was the best outcome I could hope for, that would only happen if I was lucky, was one of the bitterest draughts I have ever had to swallow. Interestingly enough, I found that the time I spent on the back of Ocelus were some of the most enjoyable times of my life, as we explored the area around Rome. Riding out the Via Appia in particular was one my favorite routes, and I think Ocelus enjoyed it as well, and I must say that, as bitter as my feelings towards the upper classes of Rome may have been at that time, seeing the road stretching as far as the eye could see, with the tombs of the ancestors of some of the greatest families of Rome lining both sides all the way, was a sight that filled my heart with pride. What other civilization, what other nation, could match this? I wondered one day as I trotted Ocelus along the road, weaving in and out of the inevitable heavy traffic. I had seen Egypt, and although the pyramids, which are tombs themselves, are certainly the most awesome spectacle these old eyes have ever seen, those were reserved for their Pharaohs, whereas what I saw on my rides were the tombs of the people of Rome, of almost all classes. Nowhere else, I was, and am, sure, would anything like this be seen. Equally pleasing were the views of the surrounding countryside, and even after doing it several times, I was always struck by the feeling of being in the country so quickly after passing through the gates. Granted, it was late fall by this point, so the weather was not the most pleasant, but there were still trees with some color on them, and the air had a crisp but pleasant bite. Sometimes, when I would pull off to the side of the road to sit on Ocelus and just absorb the world around me, with the birds singing, the sounds of the traffic moving by, and the gentle breeze, it was hard for me to remember that I was in such dire straits. We would always find some fences to jump, knowing as I did that if I did not entertain Ocelus in some way, not only would the stable slaves have their hands full, but I was liable to have a very rough ride the next time I climbed aboard.
In addition to the rides, I attempted to observe some of the court proceedings that are an everyday affair in Rome. Not a day goes by where there is not a trial going on, and while most of the matters are civil and involve disputes over property, there were a fair number of criminal trials. These were the ones I attended, because I had something in mind. Although I had been denied Claudius as a defender, nothing had been said about having a co-counsel, and I wanted to see how often this happened. As it turned out, not one trial I attended had more than one advocate for the defendant, although I did see more than one man for the prosecution. Consequently, I knew it was not unheard of and, in fact, I asked some of those citizens, most of them from my class with nothing else to do, who frequented the trials, seeing them as a form of entertainment. From them, I learned that while it was not done often, it had happened, so with that confirmation, I watched the performance of the various men trying to save another from some fate. Unfortunately, at least as far as my needs were concerned, all of the trials I watched were low-grade crimes, like theft or assault. There was one trial for murder, but it was the result of a drunken brawl in an inn on the Aventine, so suffice to say that neither the victim nor the accused were of a class that approximated mine. Then, on the fourth day, just a week before Primus' trial was to begin, I came back from my ride with Ocelus, and when I returned to the Campus Martius, it was only by a chance comment from one of the slaves that warned me that, unusually, Diocles had arrived back to our quarters before I had, and that he was not alone, a man coming to my quarters not long after he arrived. Despite cautioning myself against it, I could not stop a surge of excitement rushing through me, sure that Diocles had at last located Claudius and persuaded him at least to come hear me out, for I could think of no other reason for him to have company. Hurrying to the door, I barely remembered to give my usual instructions to the stable slave, and I am afraid Ocelus did not get his customary post-ride apple, which was in my pouch. Throwing the door open, it took a moment for my eyes to adjust to see that, in fact, Diocles was sitting at the table, with a man sitting immediately next to him. I do not know if it was their intent for this man to sit with his back to me so that I could not see his face, but I did not need to see the features to know who it was. I do not believe I have ever been in such a state of shock as I was at that moment, even before Sextus Scribonius turned to face me.
