That Aulus Gabinius, fair of face and form, was dissatisfied with the idea of owning Pompey as master could be laid at no one else's door than Gaius Julius Caesar's. Much of an age, they had met at the siege of Mitylene and liked each other at once. Truly fascinated, Gabinius had watched young Caesar demonstrate a kind of ability and strength that told him he was privileged to be the friend of a man who would one day matter immensely. Other men had the looks, the height, the physique, the charm, even the ancestors; but Caesar had much more. To own an intellect like his yet be the bravest of the brave was distinction enough, for formidably intelligent men usually saw too many risks in valor. It was as if Caesar could shut anything out that threatened the enterprise of the moment. Whatever the enterprise was, he found exactly the right way to utilize only those qualities in himself able to conclude it with maximum effect. And he had a power Pompey would never have, something which poured out of him and bent everything to the shape he wanted. He counted no cost, he had absolutely no fear.
And though in the years since Mitylene they had not seen much of each other, Caesar continued to haunt Gabinius. Who made up his mind that when the day came that Caesar led his own faction, Aulus Gabinius would be one of his staunchest adherents. Though how he was going to wriggle out of his cliental obligations to Pompey, Gabinius didn't know. Pompey was his patron, therefore Gabinius had to work for him as a proper client should. All of which meant that he struck with more intention of impressing the relatively junior and obscure Caesar than Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus, the First Man in Rome. His patron.
He didn't bother going to the Senate first; since the full restoration of the powers of the tribunes of the plebs, that was not mandatory. Better to strike the Senate without warning by informing the Plebs first, and on a day no one could suspect might produce earthshaking changes.
Some five hundred men only were dotted around the Well of the Comitia when Gabinius ascended the rostra to speak; these were the professional Plebs, that nucleus which never missed a meeting and could recite whole memorable speeches by heart, not to mention detail plebiscites of note going back a generation at least.
The Senate House steps were not well populated either; just Caesar, several of Pompey's senatorial clients including Lucius Afranius and Marcus Petreius, and Marcus Tullius Cicero.
"If we had ever needed reminding how serious the pirate problem is to Rome, then the sack of Ostia and the capture of our first consignment of Sicilian grain a mere three months ago ought to have administered a gigantic stimulus!" Gabinius told the Plebs—and the watchers on the Curia Hostilia steps.
"And what have we done to clear Our Sea of this noxious infestation?'' he thundered. “What have we done to safeguard the grain supply, to ensure that the citizens of Rome do not suffer famines, or have to pay more than they can afford for bread, their greatest staple? What have we done to protect our merchants and their vessels? What have we done to prevent our daughters' being kidnapped, our praetors' being abducted?
"Very little, members of the Plebs. Very, very little!"
Cicero moved closer to Caesar, touched his arm. "I am intrigued," he said, "but not mystified. Do you know where he's going, Caesar?"
"Oh, yes."
On went Gabinius, enjoying himself highly.
"The very little we have done since Antonius the Orator attempted his pirate purge over forty years ago started in the aftermath of our Dictator's reign, when his loyal ally and colleague Publius Servilius Vatia went out to govern Cilicia under orders to flush out the pirates. He had a full proconsular imperium, and the authority to raise fleets from every city and state affected by pirates, including Cyprus and Rhodes. He began in Lycia, and dealt with Zenicetes. It took him three years to defeat one pirate! And that pirate was based in Lycia, not among the rocks and crags of Pamphylia and Cilicia, where the worst pirates are. The remainder of his time in the governor's palace at Tarsus was devoted to a beautiful small war against a tribe of inland Pamphylian soil-scratching peasants, the Isauri. When he defeated them, took their two pathetic little towns captive, our precious Senate told him to tack an extra name onto Publius Servilius Vatia—Isauricus, if you please! Well, Vatia isn't very inspiring, is it? Knock-knees for a cognomen! Can you blame the poor fellow for wanting to go from being Publius of the plebeian family Servilius who has Knock-knees, to Publius Servilius Knock-knees the Conqueror of the Isauri? You must admit that Isauricus adds a trifle more luster to an otherwise dismal name!"
To illustrate his point, Gabinius pulled his toga up to show his shapely legs from midthigh downward, and minced back and forth across the rostra with knees together and feet splayed wide apart; his audience responded by laughing and cheering.
"The next chapter in this saga," Gabinius went on, “happened in and around the island of Crete. For no better reason than that his father the Orator—a far better and abler man who still hadn't managed to do the job!—had been commissioned by the Senate and People of Rome to eliminate piracy in Our Sea, the son Marcus Antonius collared the same commission some seven years ago, though this time the Senate alone issued it, thanks to our Dictator's new rules. In the first year of his campaign Antonius pissed undiluted wine into every sea at the western end of Our Sea and claimed a victory or two, but never did produce tangible evidence like spoils or ship's beaks. Then, filling his sails with burps and farts, Antonius caroused his way to Greece. Here for two years he sallied forth against the pirate admirals of Crete, with what disastrous consequences we all know. Lasthenes and Panares just walloped him! And in the end, a broken Man of Chalk—for that too is what Creticus means!—he took his own life rather than face the Senate of Rome, his commissioner.
"After which came another man with a brilliant nickname—that Quintus Caecilius Metellus who is the grandson of Macedonicus and the son of Billy Goat—Metellus Little Goat. It would seem, however, that Metellus Little Goat aspires to be another Creticus! But will Creticus turn out to mean the Conqueror of the Cretans, or a Man of Chalk? What do you think, fellow plebeians?''
"Man of Chalk! Man of Chalk!" came the answer.
Gabinius finished up conversationally. "And that, dear friends, brings us up to the present moment. It brings us to the debacle at Ostia, the stalemate in Crete, the inviolability of every pirate bolt-hole from Gades in Spain to Gaza in Palestina! Nothing has been done! Nothing!"
His toga being a little rumpled from demonstrating how a knock-kneed man walked, Gabinius paused to adjust it.
"What do you suggest we do, Gabinius?" called Cicero from the Senate steps.
"Why hello there, Marcus Cicero!" said Gabinius cheerfully. "And Caesar too! Rome's best pair of orators listening to the humble pratings of a man from Picenum. I am honored, especially since you stand just about alone up there. No Catulus, no Gaius Piso, no Hortensius, no Metellus Pius Pontifex Maximus?"
"Get on with it, man," said Cicero, in high good humor.
"Thank you, I will. What do we do, you ask? The answer is simple, members of the Plebs. We find ourselves a man. One man only. A man who has already been consul, so that there can be no doubt about his constitutional position. A man whose military career has not been fought from the front benches of the Senate like some I could name. We find that man. And by we, fellow plebeians, I mean we of this assemblage. Not the Senate! The Senate has tried all the way from knock-knees to chalky substances without success, so I say the Senate must abrogate its power in this matter, which affects all of us. I repeat, we find ourselves a man, a man who is a consular of established military ability. We then give this man a commission to clear Our Sea of piracy from the Pillars of Hercules to the mouths of Nilus, and to clear the Euxine Sea as well. We give him three years to do this, and within three years he must have done this—for if he has not, members of the Plebs, then we will prosecute him and exile him from Rome forever!"
Some of the boni had come running from whatever business engaged them, summoned by clients they put in the Forum to monitor even the least suspicious Assembly meeti
ng. Word was spreading that Aulus Gabinius was speaking about a pirate command, and the boni—not to mention many other factions—knew that meant Gabinius was going to ask the Plebs to give it to Pompey. Which could not be allowed to happen. Pompey must never receive another special command, never! It allowed him to think he was better and greater than his equals.
With the freedom to look around that Gabinius had not, Caesar noted Bibulus descend to the bottom of the Well, with Cato, Ahenobarbus and young Brutus behind him. An interesting quartet. Servilia wouldn't be pleased if she heard her son was associating with Cato. A fact Brutus obviously understood; he looked hunted and furtive. Perhaps because of that he didn't seem to listen to what Gabinius was saying, though Bibulus, Cato and Ahenobarbus had anger written large in their faces.
Gabinius ploughed on. “This man must have absolute autonomy. He must exist under no restrictions whatsoever from Senate or People once he begins. That of course means that we endow him with an unlimited imperium— but not just at sea! His power must extend inward for fifty miles on all coasts, and within that strip of land his powers must override the imperium of every provincial governor affected. He must be given at least fifteen legates of pro-praetorian status and have the freedom to choose and deploy them himself, without hindrance from anyone. If necessary he must be granted the whole contents of the Treasury, and be given the power to levy whatever he needs from money to ships to local militia in every place his imperium encompasses. He must have as many ships, fleets, flotillas as he demands, and as many of Rome's soldiers."
At which point Gabinius noticed the newcomers, and gave a huge, stagy start of surprise. He looked down into Bibulus's eyes, then grinned delightedly. Neither Catulus nor Hortensius had arrived, but Bibulus, one of the heirs apparent, was enough.
“If we give this special command against the pirates to one man, members of the Plebs," cried Gabinius, "then we may at last see the end of piracy! But if we allow certain elements in the Senate to cow us or prevent us, then we and no other body of Roman men will be directly responsible for whatever disasters follow on our failure to act. Let us get rid of piracy for once and for all! It's time we dispensed with half-measures, compromises, sucking up to the self-importance of families and individuals who insist that the right to protect Rome is theirs alone! It's time to finish with doing nothing! It's time to do the job properly!"
"Aren't you going to say it, Gabinius?" Bibulus shouted from the bottom of the Well.
Gabinius looked innocent. "Say what, Bibulus?"
"The name, the name, the name!"
"I have no name, Bibulus, just a solution."
"Rubbish!" came the harsh and blaring voice of Cato. "That is absolute rubbish, Gabinius! You have a name, all right! The name of your boss, your Picentine upstart boss whose chief delight is destroying every tradition and custom Rome owns! You're not up there saying all of this out of patriotism, you're up there serving the interests of your boss, Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus!"
"A name! Cato said a name!" cried Gabinius, looking overjoyed. "Marcus Porcius Cato said a name!" Gabinius leaned forward, bent his knees, got his head as close to Cato below as he could, and said quite softly, "Weren't you elected a tribune of the soldiers for this year, Cato? Didn't the lots give you service with Marcus Rubrius in Macedonia? And hasn't Marcus Rubrius departed for his province already? Don't you think you should be making a nuisance of yourself with Rubrius in Macedonia, rather than being a nuisance in Rome? But thank you for giving us a name! Until you suggested Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus, I had no idea which man would be best."
Whereupon he dismissed the meeting before any of the boni tribunes of the plebs could arrive.
Bibulus turned away with a curt jerk of his head to the other three, lips set, eyes glacial. When he reached the surface of the lower Forum he put his hand out, clutched Brutus's forearm.
"You can run a message for me, young man," he said, "then go home. Find Quintus Lutatius Catulus, Quintus Hortensius and Gaius Piso the consul. Tell them to meet me at my house now."
Not very many moments later the three leading members of the boni sat in Bibulus's study. Cato was still there, but Ahenobarbus had gone; Bibulus deemed him too much of an intellectual liability in a council containing Gaius Piso, who was quite dense enough without reinforcements.
"It's been too quiet, and Pompeius Magnus has been too quiet," said Quintus Lutatius Catulus, a slight and sandy-colored man whose Caesar ancestry showed less in him than his mother's Domitius Ahenobarbus.
Catulus's father, Catulus Caesar, had been a greater man opposing a greater enemy, Gaius Marius, and he had perished in his own way during the hideous slaughter Marius had inflicted on Rome at the beginning of his infamous seventh consulship. The son had been caught in an invidious position after he chose to remain in Rome throughout the years of Sulla's exile, for he had never truly expected Sulla to overcome Cinna and Carbo. So after Sulla became Dictator, Catulus had trodden very warily until he managed to convince the Dictator of his loyalty. It was Sulla had appointed him consul with Lepidus, who rebelled—one more unhappy chance. Though he, Catulus, had defeated Lepidus, it was Pompey who got the job fighting Sertorius in Spain, a far more important enterprise. Somehow that kind of thing had become the pattern of Catulus's life: never quite enough in the forefront to excel the way his formidable father had.
Embittered and now well into his fifties, he listened to the story Bibulus told without having the faintest idea how to combat what Gabinius was proposing to do beyond the traditional technique of uniting the Senate in opposition to any special commands.
Much younger, and fueled by a greater reservoir of hatred for the pretty fellows who would stand above all others, Bibulus knew too many senators would be inclined to favor the appointment of Pompey if the task was as vital as eradication of the pirates. "It won't work," he said to Catulus flatly.
"It has to work!" Catulus cried, striking his hands together. "We cannot allow that Picentine oaf Pompeius and all his minions to run Rome as a dependency of Picenum! What is Picenum except an outlying Italian state full of so-called Romans who are actually descended from Gauls? Look at Pompeius Magnus—he's a Gaul! Look at Gabinius—he's a Gaul! Yet we genuine Romans are expected to abase ourselves before Pompeius Magnus? Elevate him yet again to a position more prestigious than genuine Romans can condone? Magnus! How could a patrician Roman like Sulla have permitted Pompeius to assume a name meaning great?"
"I agree!" snapped Gaius Piso fiercely. "It's intolerable !''
Hortensius sighed. "Sulla needed him, and Sulla would have prostituted himself to Mithridates or Tigranes if that had been the only way back from exile to rule in Rome," he said, shrugging his shoulders.
"There's no point in railing at Sulla," said Bibulus. "We have to keep our heads, or we'll lose this battle. Gabinius has circumstances on his side. The fact remains, Quintus Catulus, that the Senate hasn't dealt with the pirates, and I don't think the good Metellus in Crete will succeed either. The sack of Ostia was all the excuse Gabinius needed to propose this solution."
"Are you saying," asked Cato, "that we won't manage to keep Pompeius out of the command Gabinius is suggesting?"
"Yes, I am."
"Pompeius can't win against the pirates," said Gaius Piso, smiling sourly.
"Exactly," said Bibulus. "It may be that we'll have to watch the Plebs issue that special command, then sit back and bring Pompeius down for good after he fails."
"No," said Hortensius. "There is a way of keeping Pompeius out of the job. Put up another name to the Plebs that it will prefer to Pompeius's."
A small silence fell, broken by the sharp sound of Bibulus's hand cracking down on his desk. "Marcus Licinius Crassus!" he cried. "Brilliant, Hortensius, brilliant! He's quite as good as Pompeius, and he has massive support among the knights of the Plebs. All they really care about is losing money, and the pirates lose them millions upon millions every year. No one in Rome will ever forget how Crassus handled his campaign against Sp
artacus. The man's a genius at organization, as unstoppable as an avalanche, and as ruthless as old King Mithridates."
"I don't like him or anything he stands for, but he does have the blood," from Gaius Piso, pleased. "Nor are his chances any less than Pompeius's."
"Very well then, we ask Crassus to volunteer for the special command against the pirates," said Hortensius with satisfaction. "Who will put it to him?"
"I will," said Catulus. He looked at Piso sternly. "In the meantime, senior consul, I suggest that your officers summon the Senate into session at dawn tomorrow. Gabinius didn't convoke another meeting of the Plebs, so we'll bring the matter up in the House and secure a consultum directing the Plebs to appoint Crassus."
But someone else got in first, as Catulus was to discover when he tracked Crassus down at his home some hours later.
Caesar had left the Senate steps in a hurry, and went straight from the Forum to Crassus's offices in an insula behind the Macellum Cuppedenis, the spice and flower markets which the State had been compelled to auction off into private ownership years before; it had been the only way to fund Sulla's campaigns in the East against Mithridates. A young man at the time, Crassus had not owned the money to buy it; during Sulla's proscriptions it fell at another auction, and by then Crassus was in a position to buy heavily. Thus he now owned a great deal of very choice property behind the eastern fringe of the Forum, including a dozen warehouses wherein merchants stored their precious peppercorns, nard, incenses, cinnamon, balms, perfumes and aromatics.
He was a big man, Crassus, taller than he looked because of his width, and there was no fat on him. Neck, shoulders and trunk were thickset, and that combined with a certain placidity in his face had caused all who knew him to see his resemblance to an ox—an ox which gored. He had married the widow of both his elder brothers, a Sabine lady of fine family by name of Axia who had become known as Tertulla because she had married three brothers; he had two promising sons, though the elder, Publius, was actually Tertulla's son by his brother Publius. Young Publius was ten years from the Senate, while the son of Crassus's loins, Marcus, was some years younger than that. No one could fault Crassus as a family man; his uxoriousness and devotion were famous. But his family was not his abiding passion. Marcus Licinius Crassus had only one passion—money. Some called him the richest man in Rome, though Caesar, treading up the grimy narrow stairs to his lair on the fifth floor of the insula, knew better. The Servilius Caepio fortune was almost infinitely larger, and so too the fortune of the man he went to see Crassus about, Pompey the Great.