Roma - Saylor Steven - Страница 115
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“Indeed! And yet, when I decided to make the run for tribune, no one was more surprised than Lucius. And no one was more surprised than I when Lucius took the headlong plunge into politics right beside me—or behind me, I should say, since he prefers to play the role of mover and shaker behind the scenes. Salute him with me, all of you—Lucius Pinarius, distinguished Equestrian, friend, financial supporter, trusted confidante!”
Unlike Cornelia, Lucius was unused to being praised in public. He was now over forty, but he blushed like a boy.
All the world knew Gaius’s story: the trauma of Tiberius’s murder, the withdrawal from the public arena, the eventual—now triumphant—return to politics. But no one knew Lucius’s story except Lucius himself. He alone knew the tangled emotions that had led him to this night. The shame of his inaction before and after Tiberius’s murder had never ceased to gnaw at him. His career had provided a lucrative distraction; family life had brought many rewards; his status as an Equestrian had given him great satisfaction. But all these accomplishments had done nothing to assuage his sense of failure. He had found redemption only by following Gaius’s lead, throwing caution to the wind, and thumbing his nose at the reactionary forces that had destroyed his mother’s happiness and his own sense of self-worth.
“Beside Lucius sits his mother, the virtuous Menenia. Beside her is my lovely wife, Licinia,” said Gaius. “I thank both of you for sitting up with my mother on all those nights when I was late getting home after buying a round of wine for the voters.”
His wife coyly cocked her head. “But Gaius, beloved, did you have to buy a round every night, for every voter, in every tavern in Roma?”
This elicited genial laughter from the guests, and calls for more wine.
“My friends, I could spend the whole night publicly acknowledging each one of you, and thanking every voter by name, but this is a victory party, and you are going to hear a victory speech! You’ve heard all my pledges already, I know, but here’s the difference: Before, you heard them from a mere candidate; now you’re hearing them from a newly elected tribune of the plebs!”
Gaius waited for the thunderous ovation to die down. “First, regarding the military, I propose that the state pay to clothe its soldiers, instead of requiring them to do so at their own expense. I further propose that no one under the age of seventeen should be required to serve. Most important, new colonies must be established to provide fresh homesteads for our veterans. Brave men aimlessly wander the streets, men who gave years of service and risked life and limb for the promise of a better life. That promise must be fulfilled!
“For the common good, I propose that the state should set the price of grain. I’m not saying that people should be given free grain, as my opponents assert, but grain at a reasonable price, stabilized by subsidies from the treasury and the building of granaries in the city to stockpile a surplus. If the state cannot make food affordable for a working citizen and his family, then what is the state good for?
“I propose a massive program of road-building, overseen by qualified Equestrians and employing able-bodied citizens, not slaves. The treasury is bloated from foreign conquests; why let that money sit idle when we can put it in the hands of the workers and get new, better roads in return?
“There must also be reform in the courts. Since time immemorial, senators alone have held the right to sit in judgment over the rest of the citizenry. They run the civil and the criminal courts. They even judge themselves; when a provincial governor is charged with extortion, his fellow senators determine his innocence or guilt. To the pool of three hundred senators eligible to serve as judges, I propose adding three hundred Equestrians. The court system will receive a badly needed shake-up, and perhaps we will begin to see true accountability!
“This, my friends, sums up the program that was overwhelmingly endorsed by the voters today. We shall win over the poorer citizens with the grain subsidy, state employment, and new colonies. We shall win over the wealthy Equestrians with lucrative public contracts and new judicial privileges. Pity the poor senators—they shall have nothing left but their dignity!”
The guests warmly applauded. Someone shouted, “What about land reform?”
Gaius grimaced, then forced a brittle smile. “Yes, what about land reform? Well, over the last nine years, much of the necessary redistribution of land has already been carried out. Ironic, isn’t it? My brother Tiberius saw the overwhelming need for land reform. He bravely spoke for it, pressed for it—and for doing so, he was murdered. Then his murderers realized that reform was inevitable—either that, or a revolution—and the next thing you know, the cynical vipers were paying lip-service to Tiberius’s goals, watering down his legislation and slapping their own names on it, then patting themselves on the back and congratulating one another for saving the Republic!”
Gaius’s voice had risen to a shrill pitch. A servant standing behind him raised a pipe to his lips and blew a low note. The tension in the room was replaced by laughter and scattered applause. Gaius visibly relaxed. He smiled, turned about, and put his arm around the short, balding pipe player.
“You all know Licinius; he’s one of my wife’s freedmen. Licinius helps me practice an orator’s trick my brother taught me. Whenever I start to get a little out of hand—too emotional, too heated—Licinius blows a note on his pipe, and I rein myself in. He has me well trained, don’t you think?”
Gaius gave the man a kiss on his bald pate. The guests crowed with laughter.
“Well, then, back to my speech. We come to the capstone, the most ambitious project of all: to extend full citizenship to all of Roma’s allies throughout Italy. For years, we’ve witnessed abuses by Roman magistrates against the subject people of Italy, who pay taxes and fight in the legions alongside us, but without the privileges of full citizenship. Give them that gift, and Roma will acquire a massive influx of loyal new citizens—and those new voters will remember the tribune who gained their rights for them. With such a power base, that tribune could guide Roma to her highest destiny.”
Gaius lowered his eyes. “When I was a boy, Blossius taught me about the Golden Age of Athens, and about the great leader who made that Golden Age possible, a man of extraordinary vision called Pericles. Roma, for all her achievements, has yet to enter her Golden Age. But, with this election, I pray to the gods that Roma has at last found her Pericles.”
Lucius, listening, drew a sharp breath. This was a new rhetorical flourish; Gaius had never before spoken of a Golden Age, or compared himself to Pericles. This was heady stuff. It hinted at ambitions far beyond those of Tiberius. Listening to such talk, Lucius felt a thrill of excitement, but also a tremor of apprehension. Glancing at the faces of his mother, Licinia, and Cornelia, he saw the same mixed reaction.
Gaius ended on a somber note. “Everywhere I traveled in the campaign for tribune, men asked me two questions: What persuaded you to enter the campaign? And do you not fear the same fate that befell your brother?
“To those citizens, and to you here tonight, I give this answer: It was a dream that stirred me to put aside fear and sloth, and to stop hiding from the world. In the dream, Tiberius called my name. He said to me, ‘Brother, why do you tarry? There’s no escaping destiny. One life and one death is appointed for us both—spend the one, and meet the other, and do both in the service of the people.’”
All the guests had heard this story before, during the election campaign. Still, hearing it again on this joyous occasion, they broke into rapturous applause. Many shed tears.
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