Roma - Saylor Steven - Страница 108
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“Tiberius’s action was entirely within the law—”
“Whether the expulsion of Octavius was legal or not, I don’t know. What I do know is that Tiberius resorted to violence. Yes, he finally got his way: His proposal became law. To redistribute the land, there must be a commission. And whom does Tiberius appoint to that powerful commission? Himself, his father-in-law Appius Claudius, and his younger brother Gaius, who’s barely twenty-one!”
“Tiberius needed men he could trust,” insisted Blossius.
“It stinks of nepotism,” said Lucius. “Mother, earlier you suggested that I might have secured a place on Tiberius’s commission. I assure you, no power on earth could have persuaded me to do so!
“And now we see Tiberius’s latest gambit. As you pointed out, Mother, money changes everything. King Attalus of Pergamum has died, and his will leaves the whole of his kingdom to Roma—the lands that belonged to Troy in ancient times will now belong to us. The influx of wealth will be enormous. Normally, all that gold and booty would go directly into the Senate’s coffers, but Tiberius has a different idea. He proposes that it should go directly to the people, distributed along with the land allotments so as to pay for farm equipment and start-up supplies. His enemies call it public bribery on an unprecedented scale. They accuse Tiberius of aiming to make himself king.”
“Never!” scoffed Blossius.
“At the very least, Tiberius is attempting a kind of revolution from the bottom up. He challenges the supremacy of the Senate by using the office of tribune to do things no tribune has ever done before.”
“I think it’s all terribly exciting,” said Menenia. “Why are you so convinced that Tiberius will fail?”
“Because, Mother, his support grows weaker every day. The common people, whether it serves their interest or not, have bought into the argument that Tiberius impugned their sovereignty when he drove a rival tribune from office. And if he thinks he can appropriate the wealth of Pergamum for his own political purposes, circumventing the Senate, he’s truly playing with fire. Does Tiberius want to be a king, as his enemies say?” Lucius turned his gaze to Blossius. “He already holds court like one, keeping a Greek philosopher for an adviser.”
Blossius bristled. “My philosophy is Greek, but I am a native-born Italian, of noble Campanian blood. Yes, I was Tiberius’s tutor when he was a boy. If he still consults me as a man, why not?”
“Because Roman magistrates do not consult Greek philosophers about matters of statecraft—unless they wish to look like Greek tyrants. I only repeat what Tiberius’s enemies are saying. They also ask: When he arrived in Roma, to whom did the Pergamene ambassador deliver the royal testament and the diadem and purple cloak of the late King Attalus? To the Senate? No! He went straight to the house of Tiberius.”
“Not to anoint him king!” protested Blossius. “The ambassador called on Tiberius merely as a courtesy. Diplomatic ties between the Gracchi and the house of Attalus go back a generation. It was thirty years ago that Tiberius’s father headed a Roman embassy to investigate charges of sedition against the late king’s father, and cleared him of all suspicion. Ever since then, the royals of Pergamum have maintained a special relationship with the Gracchi.”
“Whatever the explanation, it looks suspicious.”
Blossius shook his head. “Nonsense! Tiberius’s enemies will stoop to any slander to bring him down. He stands up for the people, and the landgrabbers say he wants to be the people’s king. The voters should know better than to believe such lies.”
“We’ll see what the voters think soon enough,” said Lucius. “Tiberius is running for a second term as tribune. It’s clearly illegal for other magistrates to hold office two years in a row—”
“But not so for the tribunate,” said Blossius. “There is a precedent for a standing tribune to remain in office. If not enough new candidates stand for the ten positions in a given year—”
“Is that what Tiberius is plotting? To keep his office by bribing or scaring away other candidates?”
“The others will stand down because the people will demand it.”
Lucius groaned with exasperation. “Can you not see where all of this is headed? If Tiberius is allowed to stand for tribune again by invoking some technicality, and if he wins, his enemies will only grow more determined to stop him; that means more violence. If he loses, he’ll lose the immunity of his office, and his enemies will drag him into court on some trumped-up charge and send him into exile. No matter what happens, Tiberius is in a very dangerous position.”
A long silence followed, finally broken by a sigh from Lucius. “It’s not that I disagree with Tiberius’s proposal to redistribute the land. It’s a worthy objective. It must be done, and it will be done—eventually. If only Tiberius had taken a slower, more gradual approach—”
“The greedy landholders would have opposed me just the same,” said a hoarse voice.
“Tiberius!” cried Menenia. She sprang up, embraced the newcomer and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Where did you come from?”
“From speaking in the Forum, of course. Election day is coming. I thought I might find Blossius here.” Tiberius Gracchus had grown into a strikingly handsome man; many who compared him to busts of his grandfather declared that he was even more good-looking. On this day he appeared a bit haggard; the unceasing demands of his reelection campaign were taking a toll. Despite his fatigue, he projected an aura that seemed larger than his physical presence, that indefinable allure the Greeks called kharisma. The intimate setting of Menenia’s garden seemed too small to contain him.
Blossius rose and greeted him. They exchanged a few hushed words. Then Tiberius turned to Lucius, who had remained seated and silent.
“I couldn’t help but overhear some of your comments, Lucius. I’ve grown accustomed to defending myself before my enemies. Perhaps I should spend more time explaining myself to my friends.”
Lucius stood and drew back his shoulders. “I meant no offense, Tiberius. But here in my mother’s house I make no secret of my misgivings. I spoke freely in front of Blossius.”
“And Blossius defended me, I’m sure. But even Blossius can’t speak the words that come directly from my heart, because even Blossius has not experienced what I have experienced in the last year. Menenia, might I have a little wine? My throat is dry from speaking.”
A slave brought him a cup at once. Tiberius drank thirstily, but his voice was no less hoarse than before. “Lucius, a year ago, when I began my first campaign for the tribunate, I was little different from any other man running for the office. I was looking for political advancement, hoping to make a name for myself. Yes, I believed in the speeches I was making—or should I say, the speeches Blossius wrote for me—and the need for land reform, better treatment of the soldiery, and so on. But the promotion of those goals was little more than a means to an end, a way for me to find a constituency and began my ascent in the Course of Honor.
“Then I took a trip up and down the length of Italy, to see with my own eyes the situation in the countryside. What I witnessed was appalling. The rural areas have been virtually emptied of free men and their families. It’s as if the whole peninsula was tilted by some Titan’s hand and all those people went tumbling into Roma, and here they live piled on top of another. You can hardly pass through the streets of the Subura nowadays, it’s become so crowded.
“And after the countryside was depopulated of free men, it was filled up again—with slaves. Tilling the rich farmland, toiling in the vineyards—whole armies of foreign-born slaves, working till they drop for the handful of rich men who’ve grabbed all the land. I mean that quite literally—these slaves fall where they work and die there. It’s not unusual to see a dead slave lying in a field while the others continue to work around him under the whip of a merciless foreman. Slaves have become so cheap, so expendable, they’re treated far worse than the livestock.”
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