Colleen McCullough - 2. The Grass Crown

And so did Gaius Marius escape from Rome, he and his son riding hired horses, and leading an ass. "Why not a boat across the river and a port in Etruria?" asked Young Marius. "No, I think that's the way Publius Sulpicius will go. I'd rather head for Ostia, it's closest," said Marius, a little easier in himself because that awful pricking numbness was not so pronounced or was it that he was getting used to it? It was not yet fully dark when they rode into the outskirts of Ostia and saw the town walls looming ahead of them. "No gate guards, Father," said Young Marius, whose vision these days was better than Marius's. "Then we'll get ourselves inside before orders come to post some, my son. We'll go down to the dockside and see what's what." Marius selected a prosperous-looking wharf tavern, and left Young Marius minding the horses and the ass in the darkest shadows while he went to hire a ship. Obviously Ostia had not yet heard the news that Rome had fallen, though everyone was talking about Sulla's historic march; the whole complement of the inn recognized Marius as soon as he walked through the door, but no one acted as if he was a known fugitive. "I have to get away to Sicily in a hurry," said Marius, paying for wine for everybody. "Any chance of a good ship ready to sail?'' "You can have mine for a price," said one salty-looking man, leaning forward. "Publius Murcius at your service, Gaius Marius." "If we can sail tonight, Publius Murcius, it's a deal." "I can up anchor just before midnight," said Murcius. "Excellent!" "I'll need to be paid in advance." Young Marius came in shortly after his father had concluded his bargain; Marius rose to his feet, smiled around the room, and said, "My son!" before drawing Young Marius outside onto the docks. "You're not coming with me," he said as soon as they were alone. "I want you to find your own way to Aenaria. The risk to you if you come with me is far greater. Take the ass and both horses and ride for Tarracina." "Father, why not come with me? Tarracina would be safer.'' "I'm too infirm to ride so far, Young Marius. I'll take ship from here and hope the winds behave." He kissed his son, a mere peck. "Take the gold. Leave me the silver." "Half and half, Father, or none at all." Marius sighed. "Gaius Marius Junior, why couldn't you have told me you killed Cato the Consul? Why did you deny it?" His son stared, flabbergasted. "You'd ask me that? At a time like this? Is it so important?" "To me it is. If Fortune has deserted me, we may never meet again. Why did you lie to me?" Young Marius smiled ruefully, looking the image of Julia. "Oh, Father! One never knows what you want to hear! It's as simple as that. We all try to tell you what we think you want to hear. That's the penalty you pay for being a Great Man! It seemed more sensible to me to deny it in case you were in one of those moods when you insist upon doing the proper, ethical thing. In which instance, you wouldn't have wanted me to admit the deed it would have meant you would have had no choice but to indict me. If I guessed wrongly, I'm sorry. You didn't give me any help, you know, you were closed up tighter than a snail in dry weather." "I thought you were behaving like a spoiled child!" "Oh, Father!" Young Marius shook his head, tears shining in his eyes. "No child is spoiled who is the son of a Great Man. Think what I have to measure up to! You stride across our world like a Titan and we all scurry about between your feet wondering what you want, how best to please you. None of those around you is your equal, in brains or competence. And that includes me. Your son." "Then kiss me again, and go now." The embrace this time was heartfelt; Marius had never thought to like Young Marius so much. "You were absolutely right, by the way." "Right about what?" "To kill Cato the Consul." Young Marius waved his hand about in deprecation. "I know that! I'll see you on Aenaria by the Ides of December." "Gaius Marius! Gaius Marius!" called a fretful voice. Marius turned back toward the tavern. "If you're ready, we'll go out to my ship now," said Publius Murcius, still in that fretful voice. Marius sighed. Clearly his instincts were right to tell him this voyage was somehow doomed; the salty-looking character was a wet fish, not a lusty pirate. The ship, however, was reasonable in that it was well built and seaworthy, though how it would perform in the open waters between Sicily and Africa if the worst came to the worst and they had to go further than Sicily, Gaius Marius didn't know. The ship's chief disadvantage was undoubtedly its captain, Murcius, who did nothing save complain. But they put out across the mud flats and sandbars of that unsuitable harbor just before midnight and turned to follow a stiff northeasterly breeze, just right for sailing down the coast. Creaking and wallowing because Murcius hadn't loaded enough ballast in lieu of a cargo, the ship crept along about two miles offshore. The crew at least was cheerful; nobody needed to man the very few oars, and the two big unwieldy rudder oars lay in a following sea. Then as dawn broke the wind veered through half a circle, and came from the southwest at half gale force. "Wouldn't it?" demanded Murcius peevishly of his passenger. "We'll be blown straight back to Ostia." "There's gold says you won't, Publius Murcius. And there's more gold says you'll make for Aenaria." Murcius's only answer was a suspicious glance, but the lure of gold was too much to resist; so the sailors, suddenly as full of woes as their master, took up the oars as soon as the big square sail was reefed in.

Sextus Lucilius who happened to be the first cousin of Pompey Strabo was hoping to be elected a tribune of the plebs for the coming year. As conservative as his family's traditions demanded, he looked forward with pleasure to vetoing any and all of those radical fellows sure also to be elected. But when Sulla marched into Rome and took up residence adjacent to the swamps of the Palus Ceroliae, Sextus Lucilius was one of the many men who wondered how it would change his own plans. Not that he objected to Sulla's action; as far as he was concerned, Marius and Sulpicius deserved to be strangled in the bottom chamber of the Tullianum or, even better, to be hurled from the Tarpeian Rock. What a sight that would be, to watch Gaius Marius's bulky body go flapping down onto the needle rocks below! One either loved or hated the old mentula, and Sextus Lucilius hated him. Had he been pressed as to why he hated him, he would have answered that without Gaius Marius there could have been no Saturninus and more recent crime by far no Sulpicius. Of course he sought out the busy consul Sulla and pledged his support enthusiastically, including his services as a tribune of the plebs for the coming year. Then Sulla rendered the Plebeian Assembly a hollow thing; the hopes of Sextus Lucilius were temporarily dashed. The fugitives were condemned, however, which made him feel a little better until he discovered that, with the single exception of Sulpicius, absolutely no attempt was being made to apprehend them. Including Gaius Marius, bigger miscreant by far than Sulpicius! When Lucilius complained to Scaevola Pontifex Maximus, he got a cold stare. "Try not to be stupid, Sextus Lucilius!" said Scaevola. "It was necessary to remove Gaius Marius from Rome, but how can you even imagine Lucius Cornelius wants that death on his hands? If we have all deplored his leading an army against Rome, how do you think the vast majority of people in Rome would react to his killing Gaius Marius, death sentence or not? The death sentence is there because Lucius Cornelius had no choice but try the fugitives perduellio in the Centuries, and conviction for perduellio automatically carries the death sentence. All Lucius Cornelius wants is a Rome without the presence of Gaius Marius in it! Gaius Marius is an institution, and no one in his right senses kills an institution. Now go away, Sextus Lucilius, and don't bother plaguing the consul with such utter foolishness!" Sextus Lucilius went away. He didn't bother trying to see Sulla. He even understood what Scaevola had said; no one in Sulla's position would want to be responsible for executing Gaius Marius. But the fact remained that Gaius Marius had been convicted of perduellio by the Centuries, and was at large when he ought to be hunted down and killed. Apparently with impunity! To get away free! Provided he didn't enter Rome or any large Roman town, he could do precisely what he wanted. Secure in the knowledge that no one executed an institution! Well, thought Sextus Lucilius, you have reckoned without me, Gaius Marius! I am happy to go down in the history books as the man who terminated your nefarious career. With that, Sextus Lucilius went out and hired fifty ex-cavalry troopers in need of a little money not a difficult thing to do in a time when everyone was short of money. He then commissioned them to search out Gaius Marius. When they found him, they were to kill him on the spot. Perduellio. In the meantime, the Plebeian Assembly went ahead and elected its tribunes of the plebs. Sextus Lucilius stood as a candidate and was voted in, as the Plebs always liked to have one or two extremely conservative tribunes; the sparks would fly. Emboldened by his election, impotent though his new office was, Sextus Lucilius called in the leader of his troopers and gave him a little talk. "I'm one of the few men in this city who isn't hard up," he said, "and I am willing to put up an additional sum of one thousand denarii if you bring me the head of Gaius Marius. Just his head!" The troop leader who would cheerfully have decapitated his whole family for a thousand denarii saluted with alacrity. "I will definitely do my best, Sextus Lucilius," he said. "I know the old man isn't north of the Tiber, so I'll start searching to the south."