speech. Those who had not guessed his intention to defend Lucius must have sensed it now; the way they had entered the chamber arm in arm, the stillness they had displayed during the unruly debate, should have alerted all to the fact that Aulus was set to pre-empt an accusation and face the matter of Lucius’s guilt head on. That someone so patently upright chose to do so should be enough to sway a great number of the uncommitted. Senators who, moments before, might just as easily have joined in a clamour that would have seen Lucius Falerius impeached, now sat in silent anticipation.
‘It is the nature of debates in this house to allow us to indulge in rhetoric, to demonstrate our skills in those arts which raise a man above the common herd and excite admiration in his contemporaries. I now ask that you indulge me for not attaining the desired standard for, in what I am about to say to the Senate, and considering the gravity of recent events, such delicate methods of speech are inappropriate.’
A buzz ran around the chamber, which died as Aulus held up his hand. ‘A noble Roman, a good and honest citizen, a member of this august body, was cruelly murdered three nights past. In the annals of crimes against the state it ranks amongst the worst, equal to the tyranny of the despised Tarquin kings who built this very Curia in which we speak as free men.’
Only those few who were watching Lucius saw his fingers take a tighter grip on the scroll in his hand as he lifted his head and squared his shoulders. No one was close enough to see the way his eyes dilated — either from fear or anger — nor observe the effort it took for him to produce a relaxed smile. He was determined to face them, to look anyone who wanted to accuse him in the eye, so he uncrossed his legs and sat forward, as if prepared to leap to his feet and demand the floor. But he didn’t; he merely listened as Aulus continued.
‘Yet from things that I hear, sordid rumours bandied about by dim-witted peasants, there is a demand to compound this crime by committing one that is even worse. What could be less becoming to the supreme judicial body of the Republic than this; that the death of one upright man should be followed by the disgrace of someone of equal stature. Rumours abound that one of our number has taken a political difference and transformed it into a criminal act. Rumours, fellow senators, levelled against Lucius Falerius Nerva.’
Those who supported Lucius regardless cried shame, his less numerous enemies aimed their angry scrolls at his heart, but a majority, the permanently uncommitted, stayed silent, content to hear the noble Aulus Cornelius Macedonicus to the end.
‘What’s to be gained by perpetrating this foul act. Money? Where in Rome will you find a man less avaricious than Lucius Falerius Nerva? Who among you have put aside considerations of personal gain so that you may devote all your energies to the commonweal? My friend may not thank me for saying this, but while many here have increased their wealth a hundred-fold, sometimes at the expense of the state, my noble companion has watched his possessions dwindle through neglect. Why? Because he cares more about the power and majesty of the Republic than he does about himself, or his family.’
That last sentence was greeted by a mixture of nods, violently shaking jowls and the odd senators who threw back their heads in disbelief that anyone could countenance such tripe.
‘Then it’s rumoured the act was committed to gain power, as if the man does not dispose of enough of that already.’
Some members, trying to ensure that Lucius saw them do so, very vocally cried, ‘The gods be praised’. Others again aimed their scrolls at him and damned him as a tyrant. Aulus let the noise go on until it died of its own volition. Changing his voice, he sought a tone of inclusion, not declamation.
‘Fellow senators, it is in the nature of this assembly that differences of opinion will surface, sometimes disputes that are serious enough to threaten the very fabric of the polity we are set to defend. What kind of sheep would we be if everyone, here present, agreed on every subject? It is debate that has made us, the very variety of beliefs itself being our strength. This Senate has overseen the expansion of Roman power till no organised state can stand against us. We hold borders that would have caused envy in the breast of Alexander himself.’
Aulus paused to allow them a moment of self-congratulation, as well as to allow his fellow senators to recall his own triumphs. ‘And who in this house stands head and shoulders above us all in his ability to command attention on the floor of the house? What man cares more than he that the dignity of the Senate should be maintained? None other that that same Lucius Falerius Nerva. Which member has more ability to bring attention to his principles? Would such a man, with so much in his favour, stoop to secret murder, cause riot and mayhem which could put at risk everything he holds dear for the mere prospect of personal revenge?’
Aulus paused before he thundered his repetition of the word. ‘Revenge!’
‘Yet the rumours have some basis. There are those determined to take advantage of recent events to gain a spurious political advantage. That, I submit, ranks with murder as a felony. All I propose to the house is this; that whoever committed this atrocity could not have the well-being of the Republic at the forefront of his concerns. That, more than the vow he personally volunteered to me, exonerates Lucius Falerius Nerva. I humbly ask that the repetition of such accusations should be made a criminal offence.’
Lucius had relaxed, and now his smile was genuine instead of forced. Aulus, in his bluff soldierly way, had played an admirable hand. True, it was not advocacy as Lucius understood it, but the effect was obvious. Even some of those he considered his opponents were pray to doubts and the motion Aulus had proposed would silence them for good. He could nod now to those who supported him most closely, men who probably did not believe a word of what Aulus Cornelius had just said, but could not care less. They had wanted Tiberius Livonius dead as much as anyone, and since that had come to pass they were satisfied.
He was slightly surprised when his defender continued. Aulus had made his case and really there was no more to say. Also, experience told Lucius that once a certain point had been reached, it was better to desist, that there was such a thing as excessive advocacy. It annoyed him that, least of all in the chamber, he was in no position to interrupt, and the frustration showed on his fine boned face.
‘Everything humanly possible,’ Aulus proclaimed, ‘must be done to bring to justice the perpetrators of this heinous crime. Men must know that a plebeian tribune’s death will not remain unavenged. They must also be made aware that his ideas and principles do not die with him. I hope and trust that all will share my view; that Tiberius Livonius had the good of the Republic close to his heart, in the same way as my good friend and fellow senator whose case I’ve pleaded today. Both men deserve to be heard.’
The stunned silence that followed these words spoke volumes to those with the wit to interpret Aulus’s remarks. He had done no less than detach himself from slavish adherence to the Falerian faction. He may not have recommended Tiberius Livonius’s political nostrums to the house, but he had indicated that he, at least, was prepared to debate them. There was no smile on Lucius’s face now, just the look of a man fighting to hide cold fury.
He had to speak; to offer to the man who had defended him his gratitude. Lucius did so, with all the skill he could command, but at the final moment of his peroration the thanks he gave Aulus were offered through clenched teeth. The two men left the Forum separately, Lucius as usual surrounded by supplicants and toadies, all eager to pledge support, Aulus alone, shunning even those who would congratulate him. He felt an emptiness inside, as if he had cut out some vital organ from his body. The following day, Aulus left Rome, sending a message to Lucius that he would regret not attending either the funeral of his wife or the celebration of the birth of his son; that after so long away from Italy, he needed to tour his estates, which, without his personal attention might go to rack and ruin. When he returned three months later, answering a politely couched, though pressing summons from Lucius, it was to a city that had moved on, to a populace to whom the murder of Tiberius Livonius was nothing but a distant memory.
It was with some trepidation that he called and to ensure that he was not humiliated a second time, he sent ahead his steward to arrange an appointment. The relief, as he was greeted like an old friend, was immense. He was taken to the nursery to see how young Marcellus was progressing and back in his study Lucius could even refer to the debate and Aulus’s speech without a trace of discomfort.
‘As you so rightly observed in the Senate, Aulus, I too have sadly neglected my properties. Now that my term of office is ending, I must undertake the task you’ve just completed and look to visit my estates.’
On those travels Aulus had had much time to ponder his act of separation, one on which he had no intention of going back, but he did want this man to know that despite what had happened, on a personal if not a political level, he still considered him a friend, still considered himself bound by that oath they had taken years before. Nothing in Lucius’s demeanour told him that he was seen as dangerous now, a man around whom opposition might coalesce, just as Lucius would never let on how much his power had been dented by Aulus’s defection. He had not lost control of the Senate, but without his old friend’s unquestioning support, his authority had been severely
