“Nonsense, Blossius. If you won’t read it aloud, I will.” Cornelia put aside the mural crown, rose to her feet, and took the tablet from him.
“‘As for Carthage,’” she read, “‘the ghost of Cato may finally rest: The city, which was as old as Roma, is now utterly destroyed. The harbor is demolished, the houses burned, the altars for human sacrifice reduced to rubble. The gardens have been uprooted. The grand mosaics of the public squares have been flooded with pools of blood.
“‘The men were slaughtered, as long as we had strength to slaughter them; the few who survive will become slaves. So far as I know, every woman was raped, regardless of her age or status. Many were killed, though they screamed for mercy; such was the frenzy for destruction that overtook the victors. The women and men who survived will be separated by sex and sold in slave markets hundreds of miles apart, so that no Carthaginian male and female may ever copulate again, and thus the race will become extinct. Before they are sold, their tongues will be removed, so that their language, and even the names of their gods, will vanish from the earth.
“‘The earth itself will be made barren. Salt is being plowed into the soil surrounding the city, so that no crops can be grown for a generation. Salt was the precious substance that gave birth to Roma long ago-so Blossius taught me-so it is fitting that salt shall seal the burial of Carthage.
“‘When Alexander conquered Persia, he chose to leave the city of Babylon intact and to make its people his subjects; for his clemency, he was exalted by gods and men. We have followed an older example, that of the merciless Greeks who sacked the city of Troy and left only ruins behind. The Greek playwrights tell of many misfortunes that subsequently befell the victorious Greeks-Ajax, Ulysses, Agamemnon, and the rest. I pray the gods will favor what we have done to Carthage, and will grant a righteous destiny to the Roman people, who have done this fearful thing for the glory of Jupiter.’”
Her hands trembling, Cornelia put down the tablet.
“If only I could have been there!” said Gaius, his eyes bright with excitement. “What a glorious day it must have been! And now it shall never happen again, because Carthage is gone, and I was too young to be there, and there’ll never be another war with her. I can hardly wait for Tiberius to come home and tell me more about it.”
Menenia lowered her eyes.
“War is the way of the world, and always will be,” said Blossius quietly. “Clearly, the gods of Roma were greater than those of Carthage. For that, we must be thankful. And yet…I am fearful for Roma’s future. How astute is Tiberius, when he points to the example of the Greeks against Troy. I am reminded of the Greek hero Achilles, who was very nearly invincible; yet, when he desecrated the corpse of the Trojan Hector, the gods frowned upon his hubris and withdrew their protection, and Achilles died like any other mortal on the battlefield.
“Roma has entered a new era. With the destruction of Corinth, the Romans’ respect for Greek culture degenerated to wanton looting. With the destruction of Carthage, the Romans are without rival in the Mediterranean. But how will Roma bear the responsibilities of power and wealth unprecedented in the history of the world? We must pray that the gods will give Roma wise men to lead her into the future-and wise women to nurture those men as boys!”
Blossius, Menenia, and Cornelia each turned their eyes to young Gaius. Inspired by visions of the carnage at Carthage, he had dared to pick up the mural crown and was testing its fit on his brow again, oblivious of their scrutiny.
133 B.C.
“Tiberius is headed for trouble, Mother. Serious trouble. He has no idea of what he’s up against. I want nothing to do with it.” Lucius Pinarius, who had the auburn hair and bright green eyes typical of many Pinarii, took a bite of boiled cabbage marinated in garum. The dish, served cold, was a family favorite for a hot midsummer day.
Blossius helped himself to a bit of the cabbage as well, though it tended to give him indigestion. Though all Cornelia’s children were now grown, Blossius still resided at her house, but he spent much of his time here at house of Menenia, which was only a few steps away on the Palatine. It was unthinkable that Menenia and Blossius-a Roman patrician and a philosopher from Cumae-should ever marry, but their relationship had stood the test of time. The widow and the Stoic were growing gray together.
Menenia ate none of the cabbage. She had no appetite during hot weather; it was her lament that during the entire month of Sextilis she could eat nothing at all. A slave behind her wafted a peacock fan to stir the languid air of the garden.
“Tiberius Gracchus has always been your friend, Lucius,” she said. “You should be happy for him. You might have looked upon his election to the tribunate as an opportunity for yourself. Instead, over the last year, you’ve deliberately avoided him. What about this legislation he managed to enact, setting up a commission to redistribute farmland? You could have served on that commission-”
“If I wanted to end my career before it’s begun! The whole thing will end in disaster.”
“Not necessarily,” said Blossius. “To be sure, Tiberius is taking a great gamble. Frankly, his boldness astonishes me, though it shouldn’t; he’s the descendant of his grandfather, after all, and the son of his mother.”
“And the pupil of Blossius!” snapped Lucius. “You Stoics are always claiming that the best form of government is not a republic but a just king. You’ve put all sorts of dangerous ideas in Tiberius’s head.”
Blossius held his temper, but the cabbage began to rumble in his belly. “Tiberius is a visionary. If my teachings have inspired him, I take pride in that accomplishment.”
“But will you suffer the consequences along with him, when the whole enterprise collapses?”
“Tiberius is the most beloved man in Roma,” said Blossius.
“He’s also the most hated man in Roma,” countered Lucius.
“Lucius! Blossius! Stop bickering! The day is too hot for it.” Menenia sighed. “Now, I want each of you to explain to me once again, from your own point of view, exactly what Tiberius Gracchus is attempting to do, and why it holds the promise of such great success-or failure.”
Blossius raised an eyebrow. “You feign ignorance, my dear, in an effort to make us defend our positions with logic rather than emotion. You could summarize the situation as well as either of us.”
Menenia laughed. “If it will keep the two of you quiet, I shall! Back in the days when our ancestors were conquering Italy, piece by piece, Roma acquired vast parcels of public land. Later on, even more land was seized from the Italian cities that went over to Hannibal. Public policy has been to disburse this land to Roman citizens and to allied Italians as a reward for military service: Small farms keep the economy stable, and they supply more soldiers, since landowners are obliged to serve in the military. To keep the holdings small and to make disbursements fair, there have always been limits on how much land any single man can own.
“But, as the Etruscan proverb goes, money changes everything. In my lifetime, staggering amounts of gold and silver have poured into Roma from conquered cities and provinces, and as a result a very small group of citizens have become very, very rich. Some of those men have found ways to circumvent the legal limits, and have bought up vast tracts of public land, along with slaves to work their enormous holdings. As a consequence, free men all over Italy have been forced off the land and into the cities, where they struggle to survive, avoid raising families, and have no obligation to serve in the army. The situation benefits no one except a small number of enormously rich landholders. The poor masses of Italy are dispossessed of their land, and the available manpower for the Roman legions grows thin. Something must be done to take back the illegally acquired lands of the big owners and to redistribute that land to the people.” Menenia looked pleased with herself. “There. Have I explained the general situation to the satisfaction of you both?”
“I couldn’t have done it better myself,” said Blossius, “though I might add that the ramifications of this situation go far beyond mere land management. There’s the current war in Spain-a gratuitous, drawn-out, disastrous affair-which has been repeatedly bungled by the ruling clique in the Senate. That’s led to massive dissatisfaction in the ranks and the imposition of harsh and humiliating discipline. I’m thinking of the instance when deserters from the Spanish campaign were rounded up, beaten, and sold into slavery.”
He looked longingly at the cabbage, but decided to forgo another bite. “The huge influx of slaves has led to its own problems, such as the massive revolt going on in Sicily right now. Slaves are threatening to take over the entire island! And this is only the latest and largest outbreak of violence by renegade slaves. Their numbers have grown to alarming proportions all over Italy, and many of them are terribly brutalized. The situation grows more dangerous every day. Farmers pushed off the land; too little respect and recompense for the common soldiery; too many
