Steven Saylor - The Triumph Of Caesar

Why did Caesar show such special favor to Brutus? For a number of years, Brutus's widowed mother, Servilia, had carried on a torrid love affair with Caesar (despite the consternation of her brother, Cato). Brutus was only a boy when the affair began, and came of age with Caesar coming and going in his house. The bond that formed between Caesar and Brutus survived the eventual cooling of Caesar's passion for Servilia and also survived their political differences.

When Caesar sailed off to Africa to deal with the last defiant survivors of Pharsalus-including Cato-he sent Brutus in the opposite direction. The appointment to govern Cisalpine Gaul not only rewarded Brutus but also got him out of Rome and away from the battlefront. Caesar could hardly expect Brutus to be in at the kill of his beloved uncle.

Caesar had no son, unless he intended to acknowledge Cleopatra's child. Perhaps he thought of Brutus as a surrogate son. Perhaps, as some people speculated, he even intended to make Brutus his heir.

"How was the journey?" asked Cicero.

"Long, hot, and dusty! Thanks for asking and thanks for the wine. Awfully good of you." Even in casual conversation, Brutus spoke with a clipped, cultured accent. His family claimed to be descended from the famous Brutus who led the revolt against King Tarquin the Proud and helped to found the republic. I found myself comparing him to Antony, who was every bit as aristocratic but seemed far less pretentious.

"So, how are things in the hinterland?" said Cicero.

Brutus snorted. "Cisalpine Gaul is practically Italy, you know. The Rubicon isn't the Styx. We do have the rudiments of civilization-books, brothels, and garum. On a fast horse, Rome is only a few days away."

"You made it just in time for the triumphs."

"Yes, for better or worse. Caesar didn't exactly demand my attendance, but he made his desire clear enough in his last letter. I suppose I shan't mind watching him parade the spoils of Egypt and Asia and further Gaul, but if he uses the African Triumph to crow about his victory over Uncle Cato, I'm not sure I can stomach that. Oh, dear, have I just made the most awful pun?"

Brutus flashed a lopsided smile. In Africa, after a crushing defeat, Cato first tried to commit suicide by cutting open his belly.

"It's my understanding," said Cicero, "that the African Triumph will chiefly celebrate the victory of Roman arms over King Juba of Numidia."

"Who went down fighting the good fight along with Uncle Cato." Brutus sighed. "Well, whatever else we may say of Caesar, the old boy won the war fair and square, didn't he? And saw fit to let you and me keep our heads, eh, Cicero? What about you, Gordianus? Not a military man, are you?"

"Gordianus has a son who's been serving under Caesar for quite some time," said Cicero. "You may have heard of him: Meto Gordianus."

"Numa's balls, not the fellow who wrote those memoirs for Caesar?"

"My son took Caesar's dictation, yes," I said.

Brutus snorted. "Dictation, eh? Caesar probably wasn't even in the tent while your boy was scribbling away. Give credit where it's due, old man. Everybody knows those memoirs were written by a shadow. And, by Hades, they certainly did their job! From the way those memoirs tell it, the poor Gauls didn't stand a chance. Quite a tale, all blood and thunder and beat my Roman chest. Pumped up Caesar's prestige with the common folk, eh? Made him look invincible. Scared the piss out of Cato, I can tell you. 'Wouldn't want to go up against that bloodthirsty madman,' quoth my doomed uncle. Well, bugger me! The father of great Caesar's ghost, sitting right here. This is quite the literary gathering, isn't it? Cicero's written his latest book especially for me, did you know? Been sending me chapters. A History of Famous Orators, dedicated to yours truly. Celebrating a dead art, I suppose. Who needs orators when the courts are closed and the Senate's a shadow? Nonetheless, my name shall enjoy immortality on the dedication page of Cicero's great opus."

Cicero smiled. "I have no doubt that you shall achieve immortality by your own actions, Brutus."

"Really? I don't see how. A hundred years from now, I doubt that anyone's likely to remember who was governor of Cisalpine Gaul in the year of Caesar's quadruple triumphs."

"You're still a young man, Brutus. And Caesar-" Cicero glanced at me, then looked back to Brutus. "Caesar won't live forever."

"Ah, yes, and what will come after Caesar?" said Brutus. "People are already speculating about that. What does that tell you? We've begun to think just the way people think when they live under a king. We're not worrying about the next election or who's liable to get himself exiled for corruption or how to keep a foot in a game. We're wondering, 'How long will the old fellow live, and who will be his heir?' For shame!" Brutus tossed back his wine and held out his cup for the slave to refill it.

Wine, soothing the weariness of the journey, had loosened his tongue. He turned to Rupa and smiled. "It was my ancestor, also named Brutus, who founded this little thing we call a republic. Did you know that, big fellow?" He paused, as if expecting Rupa to answer, though he had been told when introduced that Rupa was mute. "Republic-comes from two fine old words, res and publica: the people's state. You're a fellow citizen, I suppose, being Gordianus's son by adoption?"

"That's correct," I said.

"Where were you born, big fellow? Somewhere quite exotic, I'll wager."

"Rupa is Sarmatian."

"Indeed, you come from the very ends of the earth, from the mountains where the sun rises! What's that line from Ennius? You know, Cicero, his epitaph for Scipio?"

Cicero raised his voice to a ringing orator's pitch. " 'The sun that rises above the eastern-most marshes of Lake Maeotis illumines no man my equal in deeds!' " Far from being chagrined by his friend's loose tongue, he seemed to be as intoxicated as Brutus. This was not the Cicero I knew.

"That's right," said Brutus. "And you, you big Sarmatian fellow, you must have actually seen Lake Maeotis, though I'll wager you haven't a clue who Scipio was. No matter! That's the point, really. What a remarkable thing is this republic, eh? It grows and grows, spreading across the whole world, from the Pillars of Hercules to Lake Maeotis, laying down roads and building cities, establishing courts of law, securing the sea lanes, and rewarding its best and brightest with the greatest prize on earth, Roman citizenship."

"And enslaving a vast multitude in the process," I commented. Rupa had been enslaved, before he gained his freedom.

"I shall not debate the natural necessity of slavery, at least not here and now," said Brutus. "That's a book for Cicero to write; one of many, now that he's retired. The law court's loss will be the reader's gain! My point, if I may return to it, is the end of our republic, and everything it stands for. As I said, it was my ancestor who founded this thing." This was an exaggeration-the Brutus of ancient times hardly drove the Tarquins out of Rome single-handedly-but I let it go. "Over four hundred and fifty years ago! The republic has served us for many, many generations. The republic has made us masters of ourselves and masters of the world. As Brutus knew it would. How he loved the republic! No effort was too Herculean, no sacrifice too great to ensure its survival. Do you know what he did, Sarmatian, in the very first year of the republic, when he got wind of a conspiracy to bring back the king?"

Rupa shook his head.

"Brutus declared that any man involved in such a plot must die. Then a slave brought him proof that his own two sons were involved in the plot. Did he make an exception for them? Did he spirit them out of the city or destroy the evidence or pardon them? No, he did not. He had every royalist conspirator arrested. The guilty were lined up and forced to kneel, and the lictors chopped their heads off, one by one. Chop, chop, chop! Brutus watched the beheading of his own two sons, and the historians tell us he never flinched. And afterward, he rewarded the slave who had informed on them by granting the man citizenship-making him the first slave ever to become a Roman citizen. A precedent that has worked to your advantage, my Sarmatian friend!"