John Roberts - The Tribune's curse

When Pompey made a point of summoning the priests, that had been mostly a gesture to reassure the people, since most of the priests were senators anyway. At least it was more colorful than usual, since most of the members of the various priestly colleges wore their robes and insignia of office. The Arvals wore wreaths of wheat ears, the augurs wore striped robes and carried their crook-headed staffs, the flamines wore their conical, white caps, and so forth. There was no Flamen Dialis that year. In fact, there had been none for more than twenty years. The duty was so laden with taboos as to make it too onerous for anyone in his right mind to want. The virgo maxima , rarely seen in the curia , sat next to Pompey, attended by her single lictor.

Pompey stood from his curule chair, and the room fell silent. Well, almost silent. It was, after all, the Senate.

“Conscript Fathers,” he began, “today Rome has suffered an unprecedented misfortune. A man who may not be touched by any legal authority has taken it upon himself to perform a terrible ceremony within the pomerium and before the assembled people. The implications of this ritual must be interpreted for us by the highest religious authorities, and a suitable remedy and course of action must then be found. None here may speak of our deliberations outside this chamber. A single report will be written, and this will be delivered under seal to the Pontifex Maximus , Caius Julius Caesar, in Gaul. In his absence the next-highest authority will address us first. Rex sacrorum , speak to the Senate.”

Pompey resumed his seat, and the King of Sacrifices rose from his front-row bench and turned to face the assembly. He was an aged priest named Lucius Claudius. He had held the office since he was a young man, and because it barred him from political life, he had devoted himself to the study of our religious institutions. Although he had never held public office, like all the highest priests he had a seat in the Senate with all its insignia and privileges, except that he had no vote.

“Conscript Fathers,” he said, “I was not present at this desecration of the City, but the curse has been related to me in its entirety by qualified colleagues, and rest assured that this was a ritual of the utmost power, and one nearly certain to fall back upon the one who pronounced it. Furthermore, it was of a deadliness sufficient to destroy the City of Rome itself. Our City and our people have become ritually unclean and abhorrent to the immortal gods!”

This pronouncement was so terrible that the whole Senate was actually silent for a while.

“Tell us what we must do,” Pompey said, more frightened than he had ever been in battle.

“First, and immediately, there must be a lustrum . Censors!” Servilius Vatia and Messala Niger stood. Vatia was a pontifex as well as a Censor. “Have you chosen the sacrificial victims for the lustrum required by your office?”

Messala, the younger of the two, answered: “The ritual is always performed in May. We have been too occupied with the Census to look at sacrificial beasts.”

“Then send out your assistants immediately. The rite must begin before sunrise tomorrow, and it must be completed, without failure or interruption, before sunset!”

Vatia said: “That should be plenty of time-”

“You misunderstand,” said the rex sacrorum . “This is not to be the conventional lustrum . The entire City must be purified before we can resume relations with our gods. That means that the sacrificial animals will not merely be carried around the citizens assembled by centuries on the Field of Mars. They must be carried around the entire circuit of the Servian Walls! Three times!”

At this a great collective gasp went up. It would be an absolutely Herculean task, but nobody thought to protest. If we lay under so great a curse, no mere formality would impress the gods. I felt sorry for the men who would have to accomplish the feat. Pompey must have been reading my thoughts.

“The people must see how seriously we regard this matter,” said the consul. “I want those animals carried by senators! Every man of this body who is under his fortieth year, and especially those who have recently returned from military service, are to report to the rex sacrorum at the end of these deliberations!”

I closed my eyes and buried my face in my palms. I should have stayed in Gaul.

Pompey recognized Cato. “I think,” Cato said, “that we should look into reviving the old custom of human sacrifice. That would be pleasing to both the gods and our ancestors.”

“Isn’t that just like Cato?” I muttered, this novelty taking my mind temporarily from my upcoming torment.

Cicero rose, and I knew from his malicious smile that he had been waiting for just this proposal from Cato.

“My learned colleague, Marcus Porcius Cato, raises an interesting point. While, as all men know, human sacrifice was forbidden by senatorial decree many years ago, it has been revived under circumstances of very special danger to the State from time to time. This particular instance presents us with certain problems in choosing a suitable victim. The usual sacrifices have been foreign captives or condemned criminals. However, this offense has insulted all the greatest gods of the State. Such a sacrifice would be contemptible to these deities. On the contrary, when sacrificial animals are chosen for sacrifice, they must be perfect in all respects.

“If we transfer this consideration to a human victim and choose him with the same rigor, ruthlessly rejecting those who display any defect of body or character, we should be hard put to find one pleasing to all the gods. He would have to be highborn, of the highest moral character, of unimpeachable honesty, and of perfect piety. In fact, since Marcus Porcius Cato is, by his own admission, the only Roman of this generation who possesses all these virtues, he must be the only suitable sacrifice! Cato, do you volunteer?”

Face flaming, Cato resumed his seat. There was much choking, coughing, and clearing of throats. If it hadn’t been such a solemn occasion, the curia would have experienced its greatest outburst of hilarity since the day Caesar had said his wife must be above suspicion, seven years earlier.

One after another, the heads of the priestly colleges spoke, as did others who were experts on ritual law. Pompey appointed a special commission, headed by Cicero, to examine all the religious implications of what had happened and come up with remedies. The lustrum was only the beginning, allowing us to address the gods in greater detail.

“Now,” Hortensius Hortalus said, “what are we to do about this renegade tribune, Caius Ateius Capito?”

“Nothing can be done to him now,” Pompey said, “but in less than two months’ time, both he and I will step down from office, and at that time I intend personally to prosecute him for sacrilege, for perduellio , and for maiestas! For offense against the gods, for offense against the State, and for offense against the Roman people! I want you, Hortensius, and you, Cicero, to assist me in this.”

“Gladly!” said both men at once.

Pompey turned to face the door outside of which was the bench of the tribunes. “Publius Aquillius Gallus!”

The man came to stand in the door, white faced. “Yes, Consul?”

“Of all the Tribunes of the People, you have been closest to Ateius in opposition to Crassus. What was your part in this matter?”

“Consul, I had no idea that he would do this! Like most of Rome, I oppose the aims of Crassus and will do so until I die or he does, and all men know this. But I never knew Ateius intended this impious act and would have done all in my power to stop him. This I swear-that is, after the lustrum tomorrow I will swear it before all the gods!”