‘A commission,’ said Marcellus panicking. It was the only thing he could think of and his heart sank. His father would forbid him to rejoin his friends playing outside; for such a miserable, catchall answer, he would be sent to his room to study. The actual response took him by surprise.
‘Excellent! Now having suggested this, and with due eloquence persuaded your fellow senators to support you, who would you send?’
‘Forgive me, father, I doubt I have the knowledge to answer such a question.’
Lucius finally smiled. ‘A wise answer, Marcellus. You’ve done well today, but let us address that problem in the abstract. The whole question must be approached in two stages. First the commission must be agreed, without naming the members. That will pass easily, since the friends of Vegetius Flaminus will seek to get themselves appointed. Then we muster our forces, pick a time when they’re unavailable, and make sure that at least some of the commissioners are people of the right sort. So we come to the next question Marcellus. The person empowered by the Senate to head the commission must be what?’
‘A person with enough authority.’
‘You’re partly right, after all the authority of the Senate will travel with him, but it is often a good idea to send someone who has authority in his own right. Now, what qualifications does this powerful person require?’
‘Would he need to be a client of yours?’
Lucius shook his head in slow disgust, unhappy that his son had reminded him that he was not all powerful in such cases, so diverse were the aims, needs and views of the members it was like trying to shape a particularly stupid form of quicksand. Certainly he had more clients and supporters than anyone else, but care had to be exercised in the marshalling of such forces and keeping them happy as individuals and groups was a full time occupation.
‘I could get them to appoint an obvious client of mine, but the motion would face challenge at the next fully attended session. Understand Marcellus, that men who might back me in a crisis will readily vote me down in an area that is not seen as serious, some for no other reason than to show that they have a degree of independence.’
Marcellus now shook his head.
Lucius showed an unaccustomed degree of patience. ‘Well, look at it this way. Since the matter under review is both military and civil, it would help if he were a successful soldier. That takes care of the military side. What would he need for the civil side?’
Marcellus, not really having a clue, pulled out of his memory one of his father’s most frequently used words. ‘Experience.’
‘Excellent again, boy,’ cried Lucius, genuinely pleased.
‘Is there such a man, father? Someone who is the perfect choice.’
Lucius resumed his stern expression. ‘Learn this, Marcellus, and learn it well. However many qualities a man has, he is never perfect. The Senate must send to Illyricum, not perfection, but the most suitable man they can find. That man was here today.’ Lucius stood up and turned his back on Marcellus, reaching into the cupboards for a new set of scrolls. ‘In fact he says he saw you.’
‘Who is he father?’
‘Aulus Cornelius Macedonicus. Not perfect as I say, but he’s a very successful soldier and he was the previous governor of Illyricum. People say that the excesses of the man who succeeded him have sparked the rebellion. Apparently Aulus was much admired by the locals for his fairness, though I daresay he made a fair amount of money out of the place.’
Marcellus had heard of Aulus, had even studied his campaign in Macedonia. The man was a legend. ‘If he defeated the Macedonians in battle as well, he sounds like a great man to me.’
Lucius still had his back to his son, so he did not see the gleam in his eyes. ‘No, my boy, he hasn’t the makings of a truly great man. I can tell you that I know him better than any person alive, and he has any number of Achilles’ heels.’
As he spoke those words Lucius recalled Aulus’s words about Brennos. Caution, in Rome’s defence, was something that had paid dividends in the past and perhaps Aulus was right. It would do no harm, and cost little, to keep an eye on this Druid. He checked himself, having already begun to compose a cautionary despatch, and dragged his mind back to the present. The interview with Aulus had partly amused, and partly annoyed him, for he found it hard to sit opposite his one-time friend and not feel betrayed by the man, while he knew from the look in his visitor’s eyes just how much his emotions differed from the tone of his voice. Aulus would gladly give up his eye teeth for a true reconciliation, but that was impossible; if he could not make matters good with a lie, the truth would not bring them closer, for idealistic Aulus would never accept that sometimes only pragmatic solutions would serve, never accept that such idealism was sometimes an abdication of responsibility.
It had not turned to hate on either side. Aulus was not given to that and he did not have time for such a useless passion and yet, as they had sat there, he had felt they were still inextricably bound to each other; he could not ignore Aulus and neither could Aulus slight him, for they shared too much past; indeed the bond they had formed as boys was still unbreakable. There was that prophecy of course, the remembrance of which only came to Lucius when Aulus was present. It was distant and toothless now; age and experience had made Lucius even more sceptical than he had pretended to be that night.
Even with his son present he again felt lonely; how he longed to sit with someone he trusted absolutely, someone who would dispute with him and test his own internal assertions, yet at the same time understand his motives and thinking. Aulus should have been there for that, but he had detached himself so forcibly as to forfeit any position of trust. At least his famed independence would make him ideal to sort out the mess created by Vegetius Flaminus, and if he abided by that which Lucius had asked, he would, in his natural unwitting way, help to make good the damage he had caused so many years before.
Then Lucius reminded himself he had his son, too young now to fulfil that role, but who would grow to be first his companion, then his colleague, and finally his successor. With that in prospect he had no need of his old friend.
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘Aulus Cornelius will do for the task in hand, notwithstanding his myriad faults.’
Marcellus did not dare to disagree openly with his father, even though he knew him to be wrong. How could a man who looked like Aulus Cornelius Macedonicus possibly be prey to faults?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Fulmina was getting older and was finding it harder and harder to control Aquila; not, it has to be said, that she had ever tried very hard, for the gods had spoken through her dreams, as well as the musings of the old soothsayer Drisia. A simple soul, Fulmina believed that fate was pre-destined, hers as well as that of the boy, so the gods would take care of Aquila without her going out of her way to chastise him. And really, the things he got up to were those that all youngsters of his age indulged in, just more so. Now ten summers old he was taller than his peers by a good head, stronger by far and leagues-away the most daring. He climbed trees faster, swam quicker and fought better without ever being a thug. Other mothers, who needed their sons to help in the fields were given to complaining heartily when Aquila, freed from such labour by Dabo’s deliveries of household necessities, turned up and tempted them off to play in the woods.
Many days he was left to his own devices, which did not please him much. It was no fun following wild boar tracks alone; it could be tedious laying still on your belly for hours watching the weasels come and go from their burrows, often with a dead rabbit or bird in their mouths. Besides, there was greater danger in being alone; boar with young could kill if provoked; you had to listen out too for wolves in winter, though the bears were rarely seen now. They had long since retired from this cultivated part of the world and moved into the forests, higher up the mountains that stood tall and majestic to the east. The occasional big cat would come hunting in the lowlands and they were the most dangerous of all.
Sometimes Aquila would sit up a tree at the edge of the wood and look towards the distant mountains, which ran north and south like a great barrier. The eagles, his namesakes, nested there, ranging far and wide on the hot air currents in search of food. Occasionally one would come into view and he would sigh, thinking that it must be wonderful to be able to fly and to look down on the world from such a height. Like a god really. Perhaps those birds
