The First Man in Rome (60 page)

"We'd better send her to see my brother," Rutilia said. "She can talk to him about it."

Cotta brightened. "An excellent idea!" he said.

The next day Aurelia walked from the Cotta mansion on the Palatine to Publius Rutilius Rufus's house on the Carinae, escorted by her maidservant, Cardixa, and two big Gallic slaves whose duties were many and varied, but all demanded plenty of physical strength; neither Cotta nor Rutilia had wanted to handicap the congress between Aurelia and her uncle with the presence of parents. An appointment had been made, for as consul kept to administer Rome— thus freeing up Gnaeus Mallius Maximus to recruit the very large army he intended to take to Gaul-across-the-Alps in late spring—Rutilius Rufus was a busy man. Never too busy, however, to deal with the few items of a family nature which came his way.

Marcus Cotta had called to see his brother-in-law just before dawn, and explained the situation—which seemed to amuse Rutilius Rufus mightily.

"Oh, the little one!" he exclaimed, shoulders shaking. "A virgin through and through. Well, we'll have to make sure she doesn't make the wrong decision and remain a virgin for the rest of her life, no matter how many husbands and children she might have."

"I hope you have a solution, Publius Rutilius," said Cotta. "I can't even see a tiny gleam of light."

"I know what to do," said Rutilius Rufus smugly. "Send her over to me just before the tenth hour. She can have some dinner with me. I'll send her home in a litter under strong guard, never fear."

When Aurelia arrived, Rutilius Rufus sent Cardixa and the two Gauls to his servants' quarters to eat dinner and wait upon his pleasure; Aurelia he conducted to his dining room, and saw her comfortably ensconced upon a straight chair where she could converse with equal ease with her uncle and whoever might recline to his left.

"I'm only expecting one guest," he said, getting himself organized oft his couch. "Brrr! Chilly, isn't it? How about a nice warm pair of woolly socks, niece?"

Any other eighteen-year-old female might have considered death a preferable fate to wearing something as un-glamorous as a nice warm pair of woolly socks, but not Aurelia, who judiciously weighed the ambient temperature of the room against her own state of being, then nodded. "Thank you, Uncle Publius," she said.

Cardixa was summoned and bidden obtain the socks from the housekeeper, which she did with commendable promptness.

"What a sensible girl you are!" said Rutilius Rufus, who really did adore Aurelia's common sense as any other man might adore the perfect ocean pearl he found inside a whiskery whelk on the Ostia mud flats. No great lover of women, he never paused to reflect that common sense was a commodity just as rare in men as in women; he simply looked for its lack in women and consequently found it. Thus was Aurelia, his miraculous ocean pearl, found on the mud flats of womankind, and greatly did he treasure her.

"Thank you, Uncle Publius," said Aurelia, and gave her attention to Cardixa, who was kneeling to remove shoes.

The two girls were engrossed in pulling on socks when the single guest was ushered in; neither of them bothered to look up at the sounds of greeting, the noises of the guest being settled to his host's left.

As Aurelia straightened again, she looked into Cardixa's eyes and said, "Thank you," with one of her very rare smiles.

So when she was fully upright and gazing across the table at her uncle and his guest, the smile still lingered, as did the additional flush bending down had imparted to her cheeks; she looked breathtaking.

The guest's breath caught audibly. So did Aurelia's.

"Gaius Julius, this is my sister's girl, Aurelia," said Publius Rutilius Rufus suavely. "Aurelia, I would like you to meet the son of my old friend Gaius Julius Caesar—a Gaius like his father, but not the eldest son."

Purple eyes even larger than usual, Aurelia looked at the shape of her fate, and never thought once of the Roman ideal, or Cornelia the Mother of the Gracchi. Or perhaps on some deeper level she did; for indeed he measured up, though only time would prove it to her. At this moment of meeting, all she saw was his long Roman face with its long Roman nose, the bluest of eyes, thickly waving golden hair, beautiful mouth. And, after all that internal debate, all that careful yet fruitless deliberation, she solved her dilemma in the most natural and satisfying way possible. She fell in love.

Of course they talked. In fact, they had a most enjoyable dinner. Rutilius Rufus leaned back on his left elbow and let them have the floor, tickled at his own cleverness in working out which young man among the hundreds he knew would be the one to appeal to his precious ocean pearl. It went without saying that he liked young Gaius Julius Caesar enormously, and expected good things of him in future years; he was the very finest type of Roman. But then, he came from the finest type of Roman family. And, being a Roman of the Romans himself, Publius Rutilius Rufus was particularly pleased that if the attraction between young Gaius Julius Caesar and his niece came to full flower—as he confidently expected it would—a quasi-familial bond would be forged between himself and his old friend Gaius Marius. The children of young Gaius Julius Caesar and his niece Aurelia would be the first cousins of the children of Gaius Marius.

Normally too diffident to quiz anyone, Aurelia forgot all about manners, and quizzed young Gaius Julius Caesar to her heart's content. She found out that he had been in Africa with his brother-in-law Gaius Marius as a junior military tribune, and been decorated on several occasions—a
Corona Muralis
for the battle at the Muluchath citadel, a banner after the first battle outside Cirta, nine silver
phalerae
after the second battle outside Cirta. He had sustained a severe wound in the upper leg during this second battle, and had been sent home, honorably discharged. None of this had she found easy to prise out of him, for he was more interested in telling her of the exploits of his elder brother, Sextus, in the same campaigns.

This year, she found out, he was appointed a moneyer, one of three young men who in their presenatorial years were given an opportunity to learn something of how Rome's economy worked by being put in charge of the minting of Rome's coins.

"Money disappears from circulation," he said, never before having had an audience as fascinating as fascinated. "It's our job to make more money—but not at our whim, mind you! The Treasury determines how much new money is to be minted in a year; we only mint it."

"But how can something as solid as a coin disappear?" asked Aurelia, frowning.

"Oh, it might fall down a drain hole, or be burned up in a big fire," said young Caesar. "Some coins just plain wear out. But most coins disappear because they're hoarded. And when money is hoarded, it can't do its proper job."

“What is its proper job?'' asked Aurelia, never having had much to do with money, for her needs were simple and her parents sensitive to them.

“To change hands constantly,'' said young Gaius Caesar. "That's called circulation. And when money circulates, every hand it passes through has been blessed by it. It buys goods, or work, or property. But it must keep on circulating."

"So you have to make new money to replace the coins someone is hoarding," said Aurelia thoughtfully. "However, the coins being hoarded are still there, really, aren't they? What happens, for instance, if suddenly a huge number of them which have been hoarded are—are—
un-
hoarded?"

"Then the value of money goes down."

Having had her first lesson in simple economics, Aurelia moved on to find out the physical side of coining money.

"We actually get to choose what goes on the coins," said young Gaius Caesar eagerly, captivated by his rapt listener.

"You mean the Victory in her
biga
?
"

"Well, it's easier to get a two-horse chariot on a coin than a four-horse one, which is why Victory rides in a
biga
rather than a
quadriga,"
he answered. "But those of us with a bit of imagination like to do something more original than just Victory, or Rome. If there are three issues of coins in a year—and there mostly are—then each of us gets to pick what goes on one of the issues."

"And will you pick something?" Aurelia asked.

"Yes. We drew lots, and I got the silver denarius. So this year's denarius will have the head of Iulus the son of Aeneas on one side, and the Aqua Marcia on the other, to commemorate my grandfather Marcius Rex," said young Caesar.

After that, Aurelia discovered that he would be seeking election as a tribune of the soldiers in the autumn; his brother, Sextus, had been elected a tribune of the soldiers for this year, and was going to Gaul with Gnaeus Mallius Maximus.

When the last course was eaten, Uncle Publius packed his niece off home in the well-protected litter, as he had promised. But his masculine guest he persuaded to stay a little longer.

"Have a cup or two of unwatered wine," he said. "I'm so full of water I'm going to have to go out now and piss a whole bucket.''

"I'll join you," said the guest, laughing.

"And what did you think of my niece?" asked Rutilius Rufus after they had been served with an excellent vintage of Tuscania.

"That's like asking whether I like living! Is there any alternative?"

"Liked her that much, eh?"

"Liked her? Yes, I did. But I'm in love with her too," said young Caesar.

"Want to marry her?"

"Of course I do! So, I gather, does half of Rome."

"That's true, Gaius Julius. Does it put you off?"

"No. I'll apply to her father—her Uncle Marcus, I mean. And try to see her again, persuade her to think kindly of me. It's worth a try, because I know she liked me."

Rutilius Rufus smiled. "Yes, I think she did too." He slid off the couch. "Well, you go home, young Gaius Julius, tell your father what you plan to do, then go and see Marcus Aurelius tomorrow. As for me, I'm tired, so I'm going to bed."

Though he had made himself sound confident enough to Rutilius Rufus, young Gaius Caesar walked home in less hopeful mood. Aurelia's fame was widespread. Many of his friends had applied for her hand; some Marcus Cotta had refused to add to his list, others were entered on it. Among the successful applicants were names more august than his, if only because those names were allied to enormous fortunes. To be a Julius Caesar meant little beyond a social distinction so secure even poverty could not destroy its aura. Yet how could he compete against the likes of Marcus Livius Drusus, or young Scaurus, or Licinius Orator, or Mucius Scaevola, or the elder of the Ahenobarbus brothers? Not knowing that Aurelia had been given the opportunity to choose her own husband, young Caesar rated his chances extremely slender.

When he let himself in through the front door and walked down the passageway to the atrium, he could see the lights still burning in his father's study, and blinked back sudden tears before going quietly to the half-open door, and knocking.

"Come," said a tired voice.

Gaius Julius Caesar was dying. Everyone in the house knew it, including Gaius Julius Caesar, though not a word had been spoken. The illness had started with difficulty in swallowing, an insidious thing which crept onward, so slowly at first that it was hard to tell whether there actually was a worsening. Then his voice had begun to croak, and after that the pain started, not unbearable at first. It had now become constant, and Gaius Julius Caesar could no longer swallow solid food. So far he had refused to see a doctor, though every day Marcia begged him to.

"Father?"

"Come and keep me company, young Gaius," said Caesar, who turned sixty this year, but in the lamplight looked more like eighty. He had lost so much weight his skin hung on him, the planes of his skull were just that, a skull, and constant suffering had bleached the life out of his once-intense blue eyes. His hand went out to his son; he smiled.

"Oh, Father!" Young Caesar tried manfully to keep the emotion out of his voice, but could not; he crossed the room to Caesar, took the hand, and kissed it, then stepped closer and gathered his father to him, arms about the skinny shoulders, cheek against the lifeless silver-gilt hair.

"Don't cry, my son," Caesar croaked. "It will soon be over. Athenodorus Siculus is coming tomorrow."

A Roman didn't cry. Or wasn't supposed to cry. To young Caesar that seemed a mistaken standard of behavior, but he mastered his tears, drew away, and sat down near enough to his father to retain his clasp of the clawlike hand.

"Perhaps Athenodorus will know what to do," he said.

"Athenodorus will know what all of us know, that I have an incurable growth in my throat," said Caesar. "However, your mother hopes for a miracle, and I am far enough gone now for Athenodorus not to even think of offering her one. I have gone forward with living for only one reason, to make sure all the members of my family are properly provided for, and to assure myself they are happily settled."

Caesar paused, his free hand groping for the cup of unwatered wine which was now his only physical solace. A minute sip or two, and he continued.

"You are the last, young Gaius," he whispered. "What am I to hope for you? Many years ago I gave you one luxury, which you have not yet espoused—the luxury of choosing your own wife. Now I think the time is here for you to exercise your option. It would make me rest easier if I knew you were decently settled."

Young Gaius Caesar lifted his father's hand and laid it against his cheek, leaning forward and taking all the weight of his father's arm. "I've found her, Father," he said. "I met her tonight—isn't that strange?"

"At Publius Rutilius's?" asked Caesar incredulously.

The young man grinned. "I think he was playing matchmaker!"

"An odd role for a consul."

"Yes." Young Caesar drew a breath. "Have you heard of his niece—Marcus Cotta's stepdaughter, Aurelia?"

"The current beauty? I think everyone must have."

"That's her. She's the one."

Caesar looked troubled. "Your mother tells me there's a line of suitors clear around the block, including the richest and noblest bachelors in Rome—and even some who are not bachelors, I hear."