Chapter 46: The Choice of the Era
Chapter 46: The Choice of the Era
In early 67 BC, Rome was on the brink of upheaval due to widespread citizen discontent. The grain distribution was barely holding up, but the public’s anxiety remained high. They could not tolerate the threat posed by mere pirates.
The assembly was constantly denouncing the Senate’s incompetence and the greed of Lucullus, who was seen as responsible for the crisis.
“We want to live without worrying about food!”
“Lower the price of grain to its original level!”
“How can we allow pirates to enter the Italian peninsula? The Senate must come up with a plan!”
If this unrest continued, a riot seemed inevitable.
The Senate's silence was not just due to incompetence. They knew the solution: the skyrocketing grain prices were fueled by social unrest. Reducing this unrest would likely lower grain prices immediately. The solution was simple—appoint a renowned general to defeat the pirates, and address the Lucullus issue later.
In fact, there was an ongoing debate in the Senate about this very matter. Cicero, recently very popular, expressed his frustration.
“How long must we waste time on a problem with a clear solution? No matter how much we deliberate, nothing will change. If we ignore the pirates, it will lead to riots and alienate our allies.”
“Everyone knows that! We’re all concerned because there is no clear way to handle it,” replied a senator.
“Isn’t it because you are reluctant to choose the obvious solution? Appoint a competent general to eliminate the pirates and send a reputable general to replace Lucullus in the East. This would resolve the problem quickly.”
Despite Cicero’s sharp words, the senators remained discontented. Lucullus was a close ally of Sulla, who had bolstered the Senate’s power. He was a respected nobleman who had served as consul and praetor, and many senators were reluctant to dismiss him.
Lucullus’s brother, Terentius, cautiously offered his opinion.
“Do we really need to dismiss Lucullus? Even if Mithridates has reclaimed Pontus temporarily, his military strength is diminished after suffering consecutive defeats from Lucullus. If Lucullus can regroup his forces, he can drive Mithridates out again.”
“He failed to recover his troops properly, which is why we’re in this situation,” another senator countered.
“He must have learned from his mistakes. Shouldn’t we give him a chance to make amends?” Terentius argued.
“Terentius is right. Even if Lucullus has ultimately failed, he has achieved much until now. We should respect that,” supported another senator.
Other aristocratic senators also backed Terentius’s view.
As the decision was made not to dismiss Lucullus, Cicero sighed and rubbed his eyes, clearly exasperated.
“Let’s set Lucullus aside for now. What about the pirates? We need to appoint a commander and draft a plan to eradicate them as soon as possible.”
“Even if we need to choose a commander…”
The senators’ gazes shifted to an empty seat—Pompey’s seat. He had not attended the meeting, citing urgent business. The expectation was that he would naturally step forward and offer to handle the pirate issue, but he remained conspicuously silent.
The senators felt uneasy about Pompey’s inaction.
“Why is Pompey so passive? He is the only one capable of dealing with the pirates. He must be waiting for us to beg him for imperium.”
“That’s right. He wants us to come to him first.”
“That can’t happen. It would make it seem as if the whole Senate is pleading with Pompey.”
The senators were united in their stance: if anyone needed to ask for help, it should be Pompey approaching them, not the other way around. If the Senate had to bow to Pompey again, it would undermine their authority.
As a result, despite the ongoing pirate troubles, they could not form a punitive force. It might seem illogical, but the senators considered the survival of the republican system to be paramount.
However, they were the only ones who felt this way. For most citizens, having a stable and secure life was far more pressing.
Pompey understood this well, and he had Marcus advising him to remain silent. Time was on his side. As public discontent grew, the Senate would be forced to concede.
The longer Pompey delayed, the more rights he could assert. He made occasional appearances where the assembly was held, and each time, citizens clung desperately to his toga.
“Pompey, sir! Please do something about the pirates. We can’t live like this anymore.”
“You are the only one who can resolve this situation!”
“Oh, of course, I want to help, but there is a legal procedure for this…”
Pompey did not even mention the Senate, but the citizens were not easily fooled.
Rumors spread that the Senate was jealous of Pompey and refused to grant him imperium.
As public sentiment shifted, the Senate found itself in a difficult position.
Seizing the moment, Pompey began to act. He appointed a tribune named Gabinius as his loyal subordinate.
A tribune was an official elected by the assembly to represent the common people. Ten tribunes were elected at a time, and only commoners could hold this position. Tribunes had the right to enter the Senate and their status was elevated to that of nobles.
Their powers were significant: no one could use physical violence against them, and they had independent judicial and legislative authority. They could veto any law passed by the Senate, giving them a power comparable to that of a consul, the highest office in Rome.
Sulla had previously abolished many of the tribunes' privileges, deeming them excessive, but Pompey had restored them, enhancing his popularity among the commoners.
With this support, Gabinius proposed a dramatic plan to eliminate the pirates in the assembly.
“Citizens! How long must we endure this? We have respected the authority of the Senate and waited over a year. But they have shown neither the ability nor the willingness to solve this problem. It’s time for us to take action. The aristocrats may endure this for a while longer, but for us, it’s a matter of survival!”
“That’s right! If the Senate won’t address this issue, we must handle it ourselves!”
“We’re out of money after buying grain! Why are they letting this crisis continue?”
Gabinius then unrolled a prepared parchment and read out the proposed bill.
“In response to the citizens’ urgent demand, I, Gabinius, propose the following: First, twenty legions will be dedicated solely to this operation.”
Twenty legions meant a force of over 120,000 heavily armed infantry and 5,000 cavalry—a scale rarely seen in history.
“Second, at least 500 ships will be allocated to support these twenty legions. Third, the commander-in-chief will have absolute authority to appoint his deputies, and fourteen senators will be assigned to him!”
Gabinius continued his explanation. The budget for this operation alone was projected to exceed 140 million sesterces.
The proposed budget for the operation was more than two-thirds of the national budget. Additionally, the commander-in-chief would have jurisdiction over the entire Mediterranean region and its coast, extending more than fifty miles inland. The duration of the mission was also unprecedented—three years, compared to the usual annual renewal of imperium.
The commander-in-chief with this sweeping authority was, of course, Pompey. Never before in Roman history had such extensive command been granted to a single individual. Even Scipio, who fought against Hannibal, did not receive such authority. This effectively handed control of the Mediterranean region—and by extension, all of Rome's supply ships—over to Pompey.
The citizens fervently supported Gabinius’ bill. They were willing to grant even more authority if it meant resolving the pirate problem.
The Senate was in turmoil. Members of the Optimates faction denounced the bill, calling it an attempt to establish tyranny and criticizing Pompey as a potential despot.
However, not everyone opposed it. Cicero, a close ally of Pompey, was the first to vote in favor. Although a staunch republican, Cicero prioritized the security of the republic.
“Everyone, think rationally. If we veto this bill, we risk a riot. Unless you plan to suppress the citizens by force, we have no choice but to support Pompey,” he argued.
The senators, unable to counter Cicero’s reasoning, seethed with frustration.
Caesar, who had recently joined the Senate as a quaestor, reinforced Cicero’s stance. “If anyone has a better candidate or a more viable alternative, speak up now. Otherwise, the citizens will see this as mere obstruction, and the Senate will face the consequences.”
With no viable alternatives presented, the Senate faced a dilemma. Fortunately, Crassus, considered a leading figure among the senators, proposed a compromise.
Crassus proposed a compromise to address the Senate’s concerns about Pompey potentially gaining too much power after his mission.
“What the Senate worries about is Pompey’s potential influence once his mission is complete. Let’s include some safety measures to ease those concerns.”
“Safety measures?”
“Pompey should swear an oath to disband his army and follow the Senate’s orders upon completing his tasks. If he takes this oath in front of all the gods, under the auspices of Metellus Pius, the pontifex maximus, it should satisfy the senators.”
Pompey readily agreed to Crassus’s compromise. If he successfully completed the pirate eradication mission, he would become a national hero, and the Senate would be powerless to constrain him further.
He made a public declaration before all the senators:
“I, Pompey, swear that if I act against the republic’s interests after fulfilling my tasks, may the wrath of all the gods be upon me.”
With such a solemn promise, any opposition would appear petty and unreasonable. The aristocratic senators, though reluctant, cast their votes in favor.
The bill, which had overwhelming support in the assembly, was also approved by the Senate. The pirate eradication operation received unanimous approval from all sectors of Rome.
Immediately after the approval, the price of grain fell dramatically. Marcus, who had anticipated this and sold all his grain, profited as expected.
With his newfound wealth, Marcus decided to invest in the economy. He approached Pompey and asked to be accepted as his deputy, as promised.
Pompey gladly agreed and also promised to teach Marcus and keep him close throughout the operation. Marcus, in return, provided a significant amount of equipment and agreed to supply as many horses as Pompey needed, with the understanding that they would share the spoils.
Although Marcus was curious about the need for so many horses for a pirate eradication mission, he trusted Pompey’s strategy.
The political tide of the Mediterranean in the 60s BC was clearly favoring Pompey, and Marcus decided to align himself with that momentum.
※※※
As preparations for the pirate eradication progressed smoothly, Rome experienced a resurgence of vitality after a prolonged period of distress.
The operation hadn’t even begun, yet the Romans acted as if the pirates were already defeated. Their trust in Pompey was absolute.
Caesar, who was keenly aware of public sentiment, recognized that the future would likely be shaped by Pompey’s influence. While everyone hailed Pompey as the man destined to lead Rome, Caesar chose to take a different path.
Once he made his decision, he acted swiftly.
He met with Marcus without delay.
“So, you’re joining the pirate eradication as Pompey’s deputy?” Caesar asked.
“Yes.”
“Then I need to hear your answer to a different question first.”
“What question?”
Marcus looked puzzled, unsure of what Caesar meant.
Caesar fixed him with a serious gaze and asked, “You don’t have a fiancée, correct?”
Marcus’s eyes widened in surprise. He hadn’t expected such a direct question. “A fiancée? You mean...?”
“Yes. Do you have any plans to marry soon?”
“Well, that... shouldn’t you speak with my father first?”
According to Roman law, a child’s rights were entirely under their father’s authority, including marriage decisions. Caesar had bypassed Marcus’s father and come directly to him, which signaled how much he valued Marcus.
“If you don’t wish to marry someone, your father wouldn’t force it. So it’s fair to consult you first.”
“That is... true, but...”
“So I’m asking you now. Julia has told me that you would be the ideal husband for her. I was initially considering you and Pompey as possible suitors, but it seems my daughter prefers you.”
Marcus was momentarily speechless. He had many thoughts racing through his mind but struggled to articulate them.
He didn’t feel displeased. Julia was growing wiser and more beautiful with time.
He naturally felt pleased that Julia, such a beauty, had chosen him over Pompey.
“…Do you know why Julia made that choice?”
“It’s only natural for me to say this, given your exceptional talent.”
“Even if you call me exceptional, it’s still too abstract to truly resonate with me. Besides, this all feels too sudden…”
“It may be sudden, but you’re about to leave for an expedition, correct? Considering you might not return to Rome for more than three years, don’t you think you should give me an answer now?”
Caesar said with a smile, “Moreover, this is about my only daughter, whom I hold dear. You don’t think I would make such a hasty decision without good reason?”
“Yes, that’s true.”
“Besides, I had a recent event that strengthened my resolve. Can you guess what it is?”
Marcus narrowed his eyes, sensing there was more to the story, but he kept his thoughts to himself.
He chuckled and shook his head. “I have no idea.”
“Really? Actually, this is just a guess, not a certainty. Let me clarify it directly.”
Caesar paused for a moment and then, with an enigmatic smile, said, “Didn’t you make a significant profit from the fluctuations in wheat prices over the past few years?”
“Oh, why do you think that?”
Marcus’s expression remained neutral as he responded.
“This is not my guess but my daughter’s. She mentioned that she had many conversations with you recently.”
“Yes, but I didn’t discuss such matters with her.”
“That’s why she inferred it. She thought you might have avoided discussing certain important topics with her, believing you had some clues, even if they were trivial. She’s quite perceptive.”
“Ah, I see. That was the reason. Still, that’s quite an impressive deduction.”
Marcus realized his mistake. He had intentionally avoided discussing wheat with Julia, as Caesar noted.
But it was curious that the food shortage that had troubled Rome hadn’t been a topic of their conversations.
Julia had speculated about Marcus’s deliberate avoidance of discussing the rise and fall of wheat prices.
“It’s not an absurd idea that you might have been involved in manipulating wheat prices. It’s possible you predicted the fluctuations and acted accordingly, keeping it secret to avoid a bad reputation.”
“…”
“If it’s you, then this isn’t an unreasonable assumption. And if it’s true, your insight into current events surpasses my expectations.”
Marcus closed his eyes for a moment, deep in thought. When he reopened them, he asked, “Does revealing this to me prove your goodwill?”
“Absolutely. Julia asked me to share this with you. It’s a sign that you don’t need to be wary of her. Now, will you accept my proposal?”
After considering it, Marcus’s decision was already clear. He had initially thought about marrying Julia to Pompey, as history suggested. It would have been easier to navigate the situation if it followed the historical path.
However, Caesar's strong persuasion and his own attraction to Julia made the choice easier.
Marcus made up his mind and responded, “It’s not just a matter of accepting or declining. I need to seek my father’s permission and yours.”
Caesar’s face brightened. Marcus stood up, bowed politely, and said, “Marcus Licinius Crassus II requests permission from Gaius Julius Caesar. If you grant me your daughter, I will cherish and love her as my wife for the rest of my life.”
Despite the planned nature of the situation, Caesar felt a surge of emotion. No matter how pragmatic he was as a politician, he was still a father.
With mixed feelings, Caesar smiled and placed a hand on Marcus’s shoulder. “She is a pure and tender girl, unlike me. Please make her happy.”
“I will certainly do that.”
Caesar sighed with relief and regret. He reflected on his shortcomings as a father: he wasn’t present at her birth, failed to protect her during her upbringing, and had caused her distress in many ways.
Yet, he felt that by providing her with a worthy husband, he had fulfilled his duties as a father.
For Marcus, the emotions were even stronger. Marriage, a sacred institution in ancient Rome just as it is today, was new to him, even though he was living his second life.
He was genuinely excited about this new chapter, which promised a fresh start and a new journey.