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Authors: John Maddox Roberts

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"But Lucullus doesn't allow it?" I asked, refilling both our cups.

"Absolutely not. Flogging for extortion or taking bribes, beheading for murder. He allows no exceptions."

"And the men grumble against him?"

"Certainly. Oh, it's to be expected in a long war. Lucullus has been out there for nearly five years, and some of us were in Asia under Cotta, before Lucullus arrived. Men want to go home, and too many are being kept on after their terms of service have expired. No real danger of mutiny yet, but who knows what will happen when they learn that there's to be another hard campaign, this time in Armenia. He keeps them drilling and training hard, even in winter quarters, and they don't like that, either."

"He should relent a little," I said. "Promise them the loot of Tigranocerta."

"That might be best," Carbo agreed, "but it might turn out to be a disappointment. From what I've heard Tigranocerta may not be the fabulous royal city everyone talks about. Some say it's just a big fort: hard fighting and little loot."

"That would be unfortunate," I said. "But I fear that things may be about to get worse for General Lucullus."

Carbo's look sharpened. "What do you mean?'

"Gnaeus, are you loyal to Lucullus?"

He seemed somewhat offended. "Loyal to my general? Of course I am.What reason have you to doubt it?"

"None at all. But all generals have enemies, and sometimes those are on their own staffs."

"Lucullus is the best general I have served. I will be loyal to him as long as he is loyal to Rome."

"Excellent. You will be returning to the army before the new campaigning season?"

"Yes. From here I will go to spend some time with my family, then I return to the East."

"Good. Gnaeus, I am about to tell you something in strictest confidence, and I want you to convey this to General Lucullus. He does not know me, but he will know my father, the Urban Praetor, by reputation at least. It concerns the actions of his enemies, actions which I think to be not only hostile to Lucullus, but, even worse, pernicious to Rome."

Carbo nodded grimly. "Tell me. I will tell him."

I took a deep breath. This had the feeling of conspiracy, or at least slanderous trouble-making, but I could not ignore my instincts in this matter. "Sometime in the next year, Publius Claudius Pulcher will sail to Asia to join Lucullus as a tribune. He is the general's brother-in-law. Publius is a bad man, and lately he has been keeping company with the enemies of Lucullus here in Rome. I suspect that they have persuaded him to join Lucullus in order to undermine his command. Publius has no real interest in serving, but he wants to enter politics. I believe he is tarrying favor with a number of highly placed men by undertaking this."

Carbo's eyes narrowed. "I will tell him, never fear. And I thank you for taking me into your confidence."

"I don't know whether it is all a part of this or a mere coincidence, but Publius is now entertaining as his house-guest none other than Prince Tigranes, son of the King of Armenia. Do you know anything of him?"

"Young Tigranes? Just that he and the old man are on the outs. The boy felt he wasn't being given enough power or some such and tried to raise a rebellion. He failed, naturally, and had to run for his life. That was last year. So he's in Rome now? I'll never understand why those eastern kings always want to breed so many sons, the way they always turn into rivals. No family loyalty over there--among the royalty, at any rate."

This was a very true observation. A few years before, the King of Bithynia, Nicomedes III, had been so disappointed with his possible heirs that he actually
willed
his kingdom to Rome, as a bequest. It was the only province we ever acquired in so unorthodox a fashion. It was not totally bloodless, however. To nobody's surprise, Mithridates found a supposed son of Nicomedes whose claim he could champion and tried to annex Bithynia to Pontus. He allied himself with Sertorius, who had made himself sort of independent king in Spain and provided Mithridates with ships and officers. For a while he was successful, even defeating an army under Cotta, but that was when Lucullus took the field against him. Lucullus defeated Mithridates in a sea battle that time, and recovered Bithynia for us. All because an eastern king had no use for his family. The world is truly a strange place, and Asia is stranger than most parts of it.

I did not know what sort of trouble it might lead to, but I felt better for having passed on my warning. My only alternative would have been to write a letter to Lucullus, and such written documents are always dangerous things. They can fall into the wrong hands; they can resurface years later when political realities have been utterly transformed, only to be used as evidence in a trial for treason or conspiracy. He who would keep his head in Roman politics must be extremely careful of all such documents.

Well-fed and somewhat somnolent from the wine, we decided to walk around the city to clear our heads. Carbo, who had never been in Rome on a holiday, wanted to go to the great Temple of Jupiter to watch the ceremonies, which were famed for their elaborate spectacle. We went to my house so that I could lend him a toga and we climbed the long way to the old temple. He was not disappointed, despite the throngs of garlanded celebrants that crowded the Capitol. Romans never need much excuse to celebrate, and they throw themselves into it with a will. Coming back in the dim light of evening, we wandered in the streets awhile, accepting wine from the jars and skins that were passed promiscuously about. At that time, public officials were still expected to mingle with the people during holidays, without regard to rank or status. Aristocrat and bath attendant, patrician, plebeian, public official and common guildsman were all equal on a holiday. Today even Crassus and Pompey should be out in the temples or in the streets, pretending that they were just ordinary citizens like the rest of us. Well, perhaps not quite like the rest. They would have their bodyguards handy. Being good Roman citizens did not make them fools.

As darkness came, we wended our way to my house. Cato and Cassandra had prepared a room for Carbo. They were delighted to have a guest to fuss over, and I had brought them a bag of pastries and a jar of wine to keep them cheerful during his visit. They had the un-killable sentimentality of old house slaves, and treated Carbo as if he were a general come home to celebrate a triumph, having defeated all the barbarians in the world single-handed.

As he staggered wearily off to his bed, Gnaeus Carbo turned to me and said something terribly obvious but unexpected and weighted with much trouble to come.

"Decius, my friend, let me tell you something: If the Senate thinks Lucullus will wait until March to invade Armenia, they are wrong. He ordered me to return to my legion no later than the end of January, even though that means a sea voyage at the worst season. He will strike before March, while the Senate dithers here."

I bade him good night and retired to my own room to think. What he had just said was almost certainly true. One thing our generals knew above all else was that the Senate could debate forever. They dithered with Hannibal at the gates and they would dither while Lucullus made an unsanctioned invasion of Armenia. If he were successful, he would say that he had informed the Senate of his intentions and they had not forbidden him to act. With the loot of Armenia in his purse and his army at his back, the Senate would grant him a triumph, give him a title, perhaps Asiaticus or Armenicus or some such, and that would be that. Should he fail, he would be condemned and exiled, although in all likelihood one of his subordinates would probably murder him, as Perperna had murdered Sertorius. As I have said, politics was a high-stakes game in Rome in those days.

Chapter V

 

The next two days were mercifully uneventful. Rome is usually very quiet the day after a public holiday, and the first day was no exception. The second was devoted to an annual religious ceremony of the Caecilian gens. All of the oldest families have these private rites, and it is forbidden for a family member to describe them outside the family. On the third day, things began to happen again.

While it was yet early in the day, I returned from my morning calls to find Gnaeus Carbo packed and ready to set off on the next leg of his journey, to his native Caere. Before he left, he took a small pouch from his belt and shook out two identical bronze disks.

"Would you do me the honor of acceptin
g
one of these?"

He handed them to me and I examined them. Each was embossed on one side with the face of Helios, pierced just above his crown so that the charm could be worn on a chain or thong. On the reverse side had been carved both our names. They were tokens of
hospitium
. They represented a very ancient custom of reciprocal hospitality. This meant far more than a friendly overnight stay. The exchange of these tokens imposed a most solemn obligation on both parties. When one visits the other's place of dwelling, the host is obliged to provide the guest with all necessities, to render medical attention if the guest falls sick, to protect him from enemies and give him aid in court, and to provide him with a funeral and honorable burial should he die. To underscore the sacred nature of
hospitium
, below our names was carved the thunderbolt of Jupiter, god of hospitality. We would incur his wrath should we violate the requirements of
hospitium
. We could pass these tokens to our descendants, who would be obligated to honor them long after we both should be dead.

"I accept, gladly," I said, touched by the gesture. It was just the sort of old-fashioned honor I could have expected from an old-fashioned man like Gnaeus Carbo.

"I will take my leave, then. Farewell." With no more ceremony, Carbo shouldered his pack and walked out of my house. We remained good friends until he died many years later in Egypt.

I took the token to my bedroom and placed it in the little wooden box of carved olive wood inlaid with ivory where I kept many such tokens, some of them going back for generations and entitling me to hospitality from families in Athens, Alexandria, Antioch, even one from Carthage, a city that no longer exists. As I put it away, something about the token tickled a memory at the back of my mind, but it failed to elicit any great insights. Just then I had too much on the front of my mind to pay much attention to phantom memories lurking at the back.

Foremost in my thoughts, getting in the way of all rational consideration of my very real problems and dangers, was Claudia. Try as I might, I could not drive the woman from my mind. I kept remembering her as I had last seen her, with the lamplight making a corona around her. I tried to think how I might have acted differently, but I could not. I tried to think of a way to make things right between us, but I could think of nothing. These were bad thoughts to be entertaining when I was concerned with murder, arson and the likelihood of a treasonous conspiracy involving highly placed Romans and a foreign king who was the sworn enemy of Rome.

Men, especially young men, do not think clearly when their passions come into play. Philosophers have always assured us of this. Many of Rome's fortune-tellers offered as a sideline a potion guaranteed to rid one of this morbid fixation on a particular woman. I even considered consulting one of them. But then I had to admit to myself that I did not
want
to be free of my infatuation. Why young men actually enjoy this sort of suffering is a great mystery, but it is undeniable that they do.

BOOK: The King's Gambit
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