Chapter 73: Birth (2)
Chapter 73: Birth (2)
The news of the Crassus twins' birth—one boy and one girl—was met with congratulations and gifts from all quarters.
Pompey sent a statue of Juno, the goddess of childbirth and motherhood. Cicero wrote a ten-page letter filled with well-wishes for the children’s health, though much of it was devoted to hoping Marcus’s son would be as intelligent as he himself was. Julia laughed so hard at Cicero’s typical over-the-top congratulation that she had to clutch her stomach.
As Julia recovered from childbirth and Marcus attended to the newborns, Pompey’s triumph was held. Marcus chose not to participate, citing his need to care for Julia and the children.
Crassus and Julia were disappointed, but Marcus was unconcerned.
“This is Pompey’s triumph, not mine. I don’t regret it. One day, I’ll have my own triumph with my own achievements.”
“Really? If you think so,” Julia said, though she felt some guilt.
“I hope it’s not because of me…”
“No, it’s not. Besides, compared to your contribution of bringing two healthy children into the world, a triumph is insignificant. Don’t you agree, Father?”
Crassus nodded vigorously in agreement. His joy these days came from watching his grandchildren sleep peacefully after the Senate meetings. Although he had wished for a grandson to carry on the family name, he found equal happiness in having a granddaughter. His affection for his daughter-in-law deepened as well.
“That’s right. A meaningless triumph where he’s not even present as commander-in-chief. It’s far more productive for you to stay here and care for my grandchildren.”
“Thank you, Father.”
Julia regained her smile at Crassus’s affectionate words. As Marcus listened to the harmonious exchange between his father-in-law and his wife, a loud cheer erupted from the direction of the Forum Romanum, where the slave market was located.
Crassus murmured with a hint of envy, “It seems the triumph procession has reached nearby.”
Despite his attempt to hide his emotions, a trace of jealousy was evident. Unlike Pompey, who had celebrated three triumphs, Crassus had never had one in his lifetime. The highest honor of a triumph on his birthday seemed forever out of reach.
Reflecting on his achievements, Crassus had enjoyed many of the honors a Roman could aspire to: consulship, significant influence in the Senate, an outstanding son, a wise daughter-in-law, and beloved grandchildren. Yet, he felt that having a triumph would complete his list of accomplishments.
Marcus reassured his father-in-law, “Cheer up, Father. There’s still a chance. You will surely have a dignified triumph someday.”
“I hope so, but I doubt it. It feels like that triumph has eluded me my entire life. Perhaps I’m not favored by the god of war.”
“Father…”
“Oh, don’t misunderstand. I don’t regret giving up the triumph when I suppressed the slave rebellion. The Senate wouldn’t have allowed it anyway.”
Crassus smiled bitterly as he heard the distant cheers carried by the wind. He was curious about the splendor of Pompey’s triumph but simultaneously reluctant to witness it.
Using his grandchildren as an excuse, Crassus refrained from attending. He was genuinely grateful to Julia for providing him with that excuse.
By now, Pompey would be ascending the Capitoline Hill to the temple of Jupiter. Crassus could only imagine the satisfaction Pompey felt having achieved three triumphs. He envied him intensely.
If given the chance, Crassus knew he would seize it without hesitation, despite his calm demeanor now. His eyes lingered on the temple of Jupiter, the triumph’s final destination, reflecting his lingering regret and desire.
Marcus, understanding his father’s thoughts, felt a premonition that he couldn’t alter the inevitable future.
Crassus’s desire was so strong that even if Marcus tried to dissuade him, it would be challenging to change his mind.
“There are still eight years left… If I can’t stop him from going to war, I’ll have to prepare thoroughly,” Marcus resolved.
Crassus, deeply sighing, turned and headed home, with Julia following to comfort her despondent father.
Marcus watched them until their figures disappeared from view before moving his own feet. His steps were filled with a firm determination to avoid repeating the tragic history.
Pompey’s triumph, spanning two days, was indeed the most extravagant celebration ever witnessed.
The procession featured an endless line of wagons carrying the immense amount of gold and silver treasures Pompey had brought back from the East.
Citizens cheered and stomped their feet as Pompey’s accomplishments in the East were enumerated, and he generously distributed silver coins to them.
The nickname ‘Magnus,’ meaning “the great one,” resonated throughout Rome for the duration of the celebration.
Having successfully completed his triumph, Pompey regained his confidence and declared his intention to divorce his wife, known for her scandalous behavior, and return to political life.
Thanks to the silver coins he had distributed, his popularity soared.
However, less than a week after eagerly attending the Senate meeting, Pompey found himself frustrated once again.
His frustration wasn’t due to incompetence but because he lacked the position of consul or a tribune of the plebs to advocate for his interests.
He had to seek the consuls’ permission for his proposals, like any other senator.
The consuls, Calpurnius and Valerius, were adept at evading Pompey’s requests.
They often responded with:
“It doesn’t seem appropriate to discuss that issue right now.”
“Then when will you seriously consider my proposal?”
“Well, we have to address the pending bills first. As you can see, there’s too much backlog.”
“Then we should expedite the backlog and make a decision!”
Pompey, losing his patience, shouted angrily.
“Let’s review the current agenda according to Pompey Magnus’s demands,” Calpurnius said, sifting through documents at a deliberately slow pace.
“It appears… Ah, there was a request from the Vestal Virgins last year. Chief Priestess Lycinia herself made the request.
She mentioned that due to Caesar, the Pontifex Maximus, leaving for Hispania as proconsul, there would be a gap in religious ceremonies. She requested a law to address this issue, as handling it otherwise would leave responsibility unclear.”
“Caesar left for Hispania a long time ago! How could such an important matter still be unresolved? Are you out of your minds?”
“Well, that’s why we’re addressing it now. Is there anyone who wants to speak on this matter?”
“I will say a word.”
Cato rose from his seat.
“Yes, please speak, Porcius Cato.”
Granted permission, Cato intentionally delayed his speech. He stood up, adjusted the hem of his toga, took a deep breath, and offered a prayer to the gods. Then he fussed with his hair, coughed several times, and adjusted his toga again.
Pompey could no longer tolerate the delays and shouted.
“This is a clear obstruction of proceedings! Consul, stop Cato’s speech!”
Cato leaped up in protest.
“Obstruction of proceedings? I am merely explaining the background of this situation!”
“Cato seems to have a point,” Consul Calpurnius said, subtly supporting Cato.
With the signal to continue, Cato resumed, smiling smugly.
“Dear senators, before we address this matter, we must first reflect on the decline of morality in Rome.
People’s faith is weakening daily. Recall the scandal at the Bona Dea festival last year. The culprit roams free, acquitted at trial, and now serves as a tribune of the plebs, constantly interfering with the Senate!”
“What does this have to do with our current discussion?”
“It’s related to religion. We must first consider Rome’s increasing irreligiosity.
Romans are losing their fear of the gods, leading to all kinds of immoral behavior. Adultery is now commonplace, even a form of bragging. This is why individuals like Caesar can rise and wreak havoc.”
Cato continued for another hour, criticizing Rome’s immorality and Caesar.
“Rome has become corrupt, greedy, and lustful. That’s why someone like Caesar became Pontifex Maximus. We live in a Rome where morality has been lost.
I strive to live by the standards of my great-grandfather—one who never coveted another woman, was deeply devout, and dedicated his all to the republic’s order.
If he saw Rome in its current state, he would never have remained passive. It’s disheartening and shameful! If Rome could return to its former glory, I would gladly die in the Tiber River. That’s my only wish!”
Unable to endure any longer, Pompey’s eyes blazed with anger as he shouted.
“I have one strong wish right now, Cato!”
Pompey stood up and shouted.
“That your wish comes true immediately. Do you understand? Right now!”
Cato continued his fervent speech, ignoring Pompey’s outburst.
“This cannot continue! Rome must not fall into corruption! It’s not too late yet. We must…”
Cato’s lengthy speech continued until the sun began to set.
Furious, Pompey stormed out of the meeting hall, followed by other yawning senators.
Cato’s speech only ended when night had fully fallen and the meeting was adjourned.
The only ones left in their seats were Consul Calpurnius, Cato, and Marcus, who was diligently managing his image.
In subsequent meetings, Cato’s lengthy speeches persisted.
Despite his stubborn and overly righteous demeanor making him unpopular with the public, and his never having held high office, his tireless stamina kept him a central figure in the Senate.
He had inexhaustible energy and a tireless voice, able to speak for days without rest.
So Pompey’s efforts to pressure the consul to pass the bill were futile.
Cato paralyzed the Senate by continuing his speech until the sun set.
Typically, the consul could have ended Cato’s speech, but Calpurnius, who supported Cato, had no intention of doing so.
As a result of this delay tactic, Pompey was unable to accomplish anything.
It was also grueling for Marcus, who stayed until the end of every speech.
Cato endlessly listed trivial details that no one wanted to hear. By now, every senator probably knew how many dishes and cups he had at home and the name of the slave who cleaned his yard every morning, Porkio.
‘I don’t care about image management or anything else. Should I just slip out in the middle…’
Marcus shivered as he watched Cato’s interminable speech drag on.
Pompey had left his seat as soon as Cato began speaking, so he was nowhere to be seen.
Less than an hour later, half the Senate seats were empty. Marcus looked enviously at the senators who had left and sincerely wished he could join them.
That evening, when he returned home exhausted, Marcus received a letter from Caesar in Hispania.
I’ve heard about the situation in the capital. I don’t know why the Senate thinks Clodius is following my orders, but they’ve been delusional for a while now. Pompey is in big trouble, as we expected. He lacks the political skill to overcome this crisis and must know it himself.
He will eventually contact me, as you predicted. Pompey and I are still not evenly matched. Even if I become consul, I lack the achievements to surpass Pompey’s reputation.
I haven’t been idle, either. I recruited a friend named Lucius Cornelius Balbus in Hispania. He’s very intelligent, and I’ll introduce him to you when I return to Rome. You’ll like him too.>
‘Balbus… He must be the Phoenician financial expert.’
Marcus needed someone for his soon-to-open bank. Attracting more talent would be very beneficial.
He immediately began planning how to recruit Balbus, knowing Caesar would accept it if appropriately compensated.
With this unexpected talent discovery, Marcus continued reading the letter with excitement.
I expect to arrive before next May. Let’s discuss things in detail then. Once again, congratulations on becoming a father of two.>
Marcus carefully folded the letter and set it aside to share with Julia later.
Caesar’s conquest was in an area corresponding to modern-day Portugal. If he had subdued the local tribes there, a triumph would be warranted.
Although the Senate would likely resist granting Caesar’s request, as history often shows, the trend was unstoppable.
Pompey had paid the price for ignoring Marcus’s advice.
Marcus was unsure how much longer he could endure Cato’s lengthy speeches.
‘The main players are ready; now we just need to wait for the curtain to rise.’
Caesar, Pompey, Crassus.
The influence of these key figures, gathered at a pivotal moment, was about to ignite a dramatic change. Marcus would be the one to spark that change.
In December of 61 BC, as cold rain dampened the dry land of Rome, the Senate was unaware that a plan was being devised in an unexpected place.