Colleen McCullough - 2. The Grass Crown

Publius Rutilius Rufus was writing these days to Lucius Cornelius Sulla in Nearer Spain, having received a missive from that news-starved senior legate begging for a regular diary of Roman events; Rutilius Rufus seized upon the invitation eagerly.

For I swear, Lucius Cornelius, that there is no one abroad among my friends to whom I can be bothered penning a single line. To be writing to you is wonderful, and I promise I will keep you well informed of the goings-on. To start with, the special quaestiones of the most famous law in many years, the lex Licinia Mucia. So unpopular and perilous to those conducting them did they become by the end of this summer that not one person connected to them did not long for any excuse to wind their enquiries down. And then luckily an excuse popped up out of nowhere. The Salassi, the Brenni, and the Rhaeti began to raid Italian Gaul on the far side of the Padus River, and created some slight degree of havoc between Lake Benacus and the Vale of the Salassi middle and western Italian Gaul-across-the-Padus, in other words. Quick as you can say Lucius Tiddlypuss, the Senate declared a state of emergency and wound down the legal operations against the illegal Italian citizens. All the special judges flocked back to Rome, intensely grateful for the respite. And perhaps in retaliation voted to send none other than poor Crassus Orator to Italian Gaul with an army to put down the rebellious tribes or at least eject them from civilized parts. This Crassus Orator did most effectively in a campaign lasting less than two months. Not many days ago Crassus Orator arrived back in Rome and put his army into camp on the Campus Martius because, he said, his troops had hailed him as imperator on the field, and he wanted to celebrate a triumph. Cousin Quintus Mucius Scaevola, left to govern Rome, received the encamped general's petition and called a meeting of the Senate in the temple of Bellona immediately. But there was no discussion about the requested triumph! "Rubbish!" said Scaevola roundly. "Ridiculous rubbish! A piddling campaign against several thousand disorganized savages, worthy of a triumph"? Not while I'm in the consul's curule chair, it's not! How can we award a single shared triumph to two generals of the caliber of Gaius Marius and Quintus Lutatius Catulus Caesar, then turn round and award an unshared triumph to a man who didn't even wage a war, let alone win a proper battle? No! He can't have his triumph! Chief lictor, go and tell Lucius Licinius to dismiss his troops back to their Capuan barracks and get his fat carcass back inside the pomerium, where he can at least make himself useful for a change!" Ow, ow, ow! I daresay Scaevola had fallen out of the wrong side of the bed or his wife had kicked him out of it, which amounts to the same thing, I suppose. Anyway, Crassus Orator dismissed his troops and hustled his fat carcass back across the pomerium, but not to make himself useful for a change! All that concerned him was to give Cousin Scaevola a piece of his mind. But he got short shrift. "Rubbish!" said Scaevola roundly. You know, Lucius Cornelius, there are definitely times when Scaevola reminds me irresistibly of the younger Scaurus Princeps Senatus! "Dear and all to me though you might be, Lucius Licinius," Scaevola went on to say, "I will not condone quasi-triumphs." The result of this brouhaha is that the cousins have ceased to speak. Which is making life in the Senate rather difficult these days, as they are fellow consuls. Still, I have known fellow consuls who were on far worse terms with each other than Crassus Orator and Scaevola could ever be. It will all blow over in time. Personally I consider it a great pity that they didn't stop speaking to each other before they dreamed up the lex Licinia Mucia! And, having narrated that bit of nonsense, I have run out of Roman news! Very inert these days, the Forum is. However, I think you ought to know that we hear great things of you in Rome. Titus Didius an honorable man, I have always known mentions you in glowing terms every time he sends a dispatch to the Senate. Therefore, I would strongly suggest that you think seriously about returning to Rome toward the end of next year, in time to stand for the praetorian elections. As Metellus Numidicus Piggle-wiggle has been dead for some years now, and Catulus Caesar and Scipio Nasica and Scaurus Princeps Senatus are terribly involved in keeping the lex Licinia Mucia alive despite the trouble it has generated, no one is very interested in Gaius Marius or who, or what might have happened in the past concerning him. The electors are in the right mood to vote for good men, as there seems to be a dearth of them at the moment. Lucius Julius Caesar had no trouble getting in as praetor urbanus this year, and Aurelia's half brother Lucius Cotta was praetor peregrinus. I think your public standing is higher than that of either of those two men, I truly do. Nor do I think Titus Didius would block your return, for you have given him longer than most senior legates give their commanders it will be four years by autumn of next year, a good stint. Anyway, think about it, Lucius Cornelius. I have talked to Gaius Marius, and he applauds the idea, as does believe it or not! none other than Marcus Aemilius Scaurus Princeps Senatus! The birth of a son the living image of him has quite turned the old boy's head. Though why I call a man my own age an old boy, I do not quite know.

Sitting in his office in Tarraco, Sulla digested his breezy correspondent's words slowly. The news that Caecilia Metella Dalmatica had given Scaurus a son occupied his mind first, and to the complete exclusion of Rutilius Rufus's other, more important news and opinions until Sulla had smiled sourly for long enough to scotch the memory of Dalmatica. Then he turned his mind to the idea of standing for praetor, and decided that Rutilius Rufus was right. Next year was the time there would never be a better time. That Titus Didius would not oppose his going, he did not doubt; and Titus Didius would give him letters of recommendation that would greatly enhance his chances. No, he hadn't won a Grass Crown in Spain; it had fallen to Quintus Sertorius's lot to do that. But he hadn't done too badly, either. Was it a dream? A little spiteful arrow shot from Fortune's bow through the medium of poor dead Julilla, who had woven a crown for him out of Palatine grass and put it on his head, not knowing the military significance of what she did. Or had Julilla seen clearly? Was the Grass Crown still waiting to be won? In what war? Nothing serious enough was going on, nothing serious loomed anywhere. Oh, Spain still boiled in both provinces, but Sulla's duties were not of the kind to permit the winning of a corona graminea. He was Titus Didius's much-valued chief of logistics, supplies, arms, strategy, but Titus Didius didn't care to use him to command armies. After he was praetor Sulla would get his chance, and dreamed of relieving Titus Didius in Nearer Spain. A rich and fruitful governorship, that was what he needed! Sulla needed money. He was well aware of it. At forty-five his time was running out rapidly; soon it would be too late to make a bid for the consulship, no matter what people said to him about Gaius Marius. Gaius Marius was a special case. He had no like, not even Lucius Cornelius Sulla. To Sulla, money was the harbinger of power and that had been true for Gaius Marius as well. If he hadn't had the fortune he had won for himself while praetorian governor of Further Spain, old Caesar Grandfather would never have considered him as a husband for Julia and if he hadn't married Julia, he could never have secured the consulship, difficult though that had been. Money. Sulla had to have money! So to Rome he would go to seek election as praetor, then back to Spain he would come to make money. Wrote Publius Rutilius Rufus in August of the following year, after a long silence: