Colleen McCullough - 1. First Man in Rome

Sulla slid off the couch and began to pace the floor. "There's one more thing, Gaius Marius, and it's a very serious thing. After eighteen years of homeless wandering, the Germans are tired. And they're desperate to settle down. A huge number of children have grown old enough to become young warriors without ever knowing a homeland. There's actually even been talk of going back to the Cimbrian Chersonnese. The sea has retreated long since, and the ground is sweet again." "I wish they would!" said Marius. "It's too late for that," Sulla said, pacing up and down restlessly. "They've grown to like crusty white bread, you see, to put their butter on, and sop up their beef juice, and put into their awful blood puddings. They like the warmth of the southern sun and the proximity of the great white mountains. First Pannonia and Noricum, then Gaul. Ours is a richer world. And now that they've got Boiorix, they've made up their minds they'll take it." "Not while I'm in charge, they won't," said Marius, and sagged in his chair. "Is that all?" he asked. "All, yet nothing," Sulla said, a little sadly. "I could talk about them for days. But that's as much as you need to know as a beginning, certainly." "What about your wife, your sons? Have you left them to be knocked on the head because they've no warrior to support them?" "Isn't it funny?" Sulla asked himself, wondering. "I couldn't do that! When the time came to go, I found I just couldn't. So I took Hermana and the boys to the Cherusci of Germania. They live to the north of the Chatti, along the Visurgis River. Her tribe is a part of the Cherusci, though it's called the Marsi. Odd, don't you find? We have our Marsi. The Germans have theirs. The name is pronounced exactly the same way. Makes you wonder. . . . How did we all come to be where we are? Is it in the nature of men to wander in search of fresh homelands? Will we of Rome grow tired of Italy one day, and migrate elsewhere? I've thought a great deal about the world since I joined the Germans, Gaius Marius." For a reason he couldn't quite grasp, this last speech of Sulla's moved Marius almost to tears; so he said in a gentler voice than usual, "I'm glad you didn't leave her to die." "So am I, even though I couldn't afford the time. I was worried that I wouldn't reach you before the consular elections were due, because I thought my news would be a terrific help." He cleared his throat. "Actually I took it upon myself in your name, of course to conclude a treaty of peace and friendly alliance with the Marsi of Germania. In some way, I thought, my German sons would then have the faintest whiff of Rome under their short straight Cherusci noses. Hermana has promised to raise them to think kindly of Rome." "Won't you ever see her again?" asked Marius. "Of course not!" said Sulla briskly. "Nor the twins. I do not intend ever again, Gaius Marius, to grow my hair or my moustaches, nor journey away from the lands around the Middle Sea. A diet of beef and milk and butter and oaten porridge does not agree with my Roman stomach, nor do I like going without a bath, nor do I like beer. I've done what I could for Hermana and the boys by putting them where their lack of a warrior will not mean they have to die. But I've told Hermana she must try to find another man. It's sensible and proper. All going well, they'll survive. And my boys will grow up to be good Germans. Fierce warriors, I hope! And bigger than me by far, I hope! Yet if Fortune doesn't intend them to survive why, I'll not know about it, will I?" "Quite so, Lucius Cornelius." Marius looked down at his hands where they curled about his cup, and seemed surprised that their knuckles were white. “The only time I ever take credence of Metellus Numidicus Piggle-wiggle's allegations about your vulgar origins," said Sulla, sounding nothing but amused, "is when some incident rouses your dormant peasant sentimentality." Marius glared. "The worst of you Sulla! is that I will never know what makes you work! What makes your legs go up and down, what makes your arms swing, why you smile like a wolf. And what you really think. That I'll never, never know." "If it's any consolation, brother-in-law, nor will anyone else. Even me," said Sulla.

5

It looked, that November, as if Gaius Marius would never succeed in becoming consul for the following year. A letter from Lucius Appuleius Saturninus drove out all hope of a plebiscite authorizing him to stand in absentia a third time.

The Senate won't stand by idly again, because most of Rome is now convinced the Germans won't come at all. Ever. In fact, the Germans have turned into a new Lamia, a monster employed to strike terror into every heart so often and for so long that eventually she holds no terror. Naturally your enemies have made a great deal out of the fact that this is your second year in Gaul-across-the-Alps repairing roads and digging ship canals, and that your presence there with a large army is costing the State more than it can afford, especially with the price of wheat what it is. I've tested the electoral water in the matter of your standing in absentia a third time, and the toe I dipped in has dropped off from the frost. Your chances would be somewhat better if you came to Rome to stand in person. But of course if you do that, your enemies will argue that the so-called emergency in Gaul-across-the-Alps does not actually exist. However, I've done what I can for you, mainly lining up support in the Senate so you will at least have your command prorogued with proconsular status. This will mean next year's consuls will be your superiors. And as a final note of cheer, the favored consular candidate for next year is Quintus Lutatius Catulus. The electors are so fed up with his standing every single year that they've decided to get rid of him by voting him in. I trust this finds you well.

When Marius finished reading Saturninus's short missive, he sat frowning for a long time. Though the news it imparted was cheerless, there was yet a faintly jaunty feel to the letter; as if Saturninus too was deciding Gaius Marius was a man of the past, and was busy realigning his priorities. Gaius Marius had no polling appeal. No more knight clout. For the Germans were much less of a threat than the Sicilian slave war and the grain supply; Lamia the monster was dead. Well, Lamia the monster wasn't dead, and Lucius Cornelius Sulla was alive to prove it. Only what was the point of sending Sulla to Rome to testify to this fact when he, Gaius Marius, had no excuse to accompany Sulla to Rome? Without support and power, Sulla wouldn't prevail; he'd have to tell his whole story to too many men alienated from his commander, men who would find the idea of a Roman aristocrat masquerading as a Gaul for almost two years so disturbing they would end in having Rome dismiss Sulla's story as unstable, unreliable, unacceptable. No, either both of them journeyed to Rome, or neither of them did. Out came blank paper, pen, ink: Gaius Marius wrote to Lucius Appuleius Saturninus.

Vindicated you may be, Lucius Appuleius, but remember it was I who enabled you to survive until you were vindicated. You are still beholden to me, and I expect a clientlike loyalty from you. Do not assume I cannot come to Rome. An opportunity may still arise. Or at least, I expect you to act as if I will indeed appear in Rome. Therefore here is what I want. The most immediate necessity is to postpone the consular elections, a job you and Gaius Norbanus as tribunes of the plebs are well able to do. You will do it. Wholeheartedly. Throwing all your energy into the job. After that, I expect you to use the brain you were born with to seize upon the first opportunity which will enable you to put pressure on the Senate and People to call me to Rome. I will get to Rome, never doubt it. So if you want to rise a great deal higher than the tribunate of the plebs, it behooves you to remain Gaius Marius's man.