Chapter 75: The Triumvirate (2)
Chapter 75: The Triumvirate (2)
“You want to become an aedile?” Pompey asked, surprised.
“Even though I lowered the age limit by five years, you still need to be 30 to be an aedile, don’t you? Though the rule is somewhat flexible, you’ve always adhered to it.”
“Yes, that’s why I want you to adjust the age limit. When you become consul, please lower it to around 27 years.”
Caesar crossed his arms and eyed Marcus skeptically. “Even if we pass a law to lower the age limit, won’t there still be objections to you becoming an aedile right away?”
“There will be, of course. That’s why I don’t intend to run for office myself. You should choose a suitable candidate from among the plebeians and support them. The Senate will naturally seek someone who meets the criteria to oppose your candidate.”
“That would be you, obviously.”
“Yes, I want to become an aedile through the Senate’s proposal. That way, no one can contest it.”
Caesar chuckled and shook his head. “I don’t understand why you’re so cautious. You’ve already established a strong position. With Magnus and me backing you, you don’t need to worry so much about the Senate.”
“It’s my nature to be careful. I can’t change it easily.”
“That’s not necessarily a bad thing. Julia seems to appreciate your caution. But remember, you need to be bold and confident when the situation demands it. Being too cautious might make you miss opportunities.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Marcus smiled ruefully and bowed his head. He wanted to express that he was trying to avoid the dangers of overconfidence but couldn’t voice it.
“But there’s one thing I don’t understand,” Pompey interrupted with a frown. “Why are you so fixated on becoming an aedile? You should aim for something like a quaestor. You have enough support and popularity to aim higher.”
Pompey’s question reflected a typical Roman noble’s perspective. Marcus felt reassured that if Pompey thought this way, other senators likely did too.
The main role of an aedile was to manage Rome’s administration and security, but the perception of the position was different. The key for citizens was whether aediles organized grain distributions and entertainment events. Maintenance and regulation were less valued unless they were visible and impactful.
Most politicians used the aedileship to boost their popularity by spending on public events and games. Caesar did this, and Cicero did the same. In contrast, those who already had sufficient support often bypassed this office.
Marcus was one of them. He had garnered strong public support through tax and financial reforms and had almost monopolized votes in his previous quaestor election. He didn’t need to spend money as an aedile unnecessarily.
“I’m sure other senators think like Pompey. They may pressure me to take the aedileship but hope I refuse.”
“I don’t think they’ll feel indebted to you for that.”
“Yes. The goal is to give the impression that I’m chasing an unimportant office. But being an aedile isn’t useless to me. I have plans that are far more valuable than just entertaining the public.”
“The only notable function of an aedile is managing public facilities, which people don’t often appreciate or notice. You know that, right? People are drawn to visible and tangible benefits.”
Marcus didn’t deny Pompey’s point. It was true that people were often attracted to visible accomplishments.
“What I plan to do as an aedile is something that will be felt and appreciated by all citizens of Rome.”
“I’m intrigued but have no idea what you’re planning.”
“I’d prefer to keep that under wraps for now. Revealing everything here would spoil the surprise.”
“Well, it’s not meaningless since it’s you,” Pompey said. “Since we all agree on our interests, can we say our alliance is officially formed?”
Marcus responded with a smile. “Yes, let’s consider it official.”
Caesar clapped his hands, celebrating the formation of their alliance. “Crassus, representing the equestrian class, me, Caesar, representing the populares, and Pompey, symbolizing the military. With our combined forces, we can surely challenge the Senate. We are the representatives of each major class. Let’s call this alliance the Triumvirate.”
“Triumvirate. I like that name. Let’s go with it,” Marcus agreed.
“I have no objection,” Pompey added.
The conversation among these three powerhouses marked the birth of the Triumvirate—a direct challenge to the Senate's dominance.
The Senate, however, lacked the power to counter this formidable alliance. They were unaware of the alliance's formation and its implications.
The emergence of the Triumvirate signaled a fundamental shift in Rome’s political landscape. Yet even Pompey, a key player in the alliance, did not fully grasp its significance.
Only two people in Rome truly understood the depth of the changes: Caesar, who aimed to solidify his power through this new system, and Marcus, who saw even further into the future.
After all preparations were complete, Caesar entered Rome at dawn, riding a white horse.
He made his way slowly to the Forum Romanum, as if to express his regret for not being able to hold a triumph.
In Rome, candidates for public office traditionally wore a white toga called ‘toga candida,’ made with chalk powder.
Caesar, wearing a civic crown and riding a white horse, drew considerable attention from the citizens.
His clients spread the word about the injustice of his denied triumph, and the citizens, expecting a triumph and its accompanying distribution of silver coins, were outraged when they learned of the Senate’s manipulations.
Caesar arrived at the Forum surrounded by a crowd of angry citizens.
Afranius, responsible for registering candidates for the election, was startled when he saw Caesar.
He rubbed his eyes, unable to believe the sight before him.
It took him a moment to accept that it was indeed Caesar.
“Caesar! Are you out of your mind? What are you doing here? A triumphant general isn’t allowed to cross the sacred boundary and enter the city!”
Unlike Afranius’s panicked response, Caesar remained calm. “Since the Senate didn’t accept my registration while I was absent, I came here to apply in person. Please complete the registration process quickly.”
“No, no, no! What’s the point of running for consul now? You can still salvage this by claiming a misunderstanding and returning to the Campus Martius.”
“There was no misunderstanding. I gave up my triumph to run for office.”
“No, but… but you can’t achieve anything as consul. The Senate’s representative in this election is Bibulus, and he will veto everything you propose.”
“Yes, I suppose that’s true.”
“So just hold your triumph and run for office next year or the year after. You’re still young and have plenty of opportunities. There’s no need to rush.”
Afranius feigned concern and tried to persuade Caesar to withdraw his candidacy, but Caesar saw through his superficial tactics immediately. It was too trivial to address seriously.
“I’ve made my decision to run for office, and you have an obligation to accept my registration. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
Caesar turned and rejoined the crowd of his supporters, who chanted his name. The presence of so many witnesses made it impossible to deny his candidacy.
Afranius quickly issued orders to his attendants. “Bring Cato, Cicero, Bibulus, and Crassus here immediately. If they refuse because they’re busy, tell them that Caesar has given up his triumph and registered as a consul candidate.”
As Afranius had anticipated, the senators who received the news abandoned their tasks and rushed over, with Cato arriving so quickly that he was out of breath.
“What is this nonsense, Afranius! Caesar is running for praetor?”
Bibulus, who was likely to become the next praetor, also looked shocked. “Is this some sort of cruel joke? How can Caesar register as a candidate?”
Afranius sighed deeply. “Sit down first. Let’s discuss this calmly.”
Marcus, who had arrived with Crassus, sat down with a façade of calmness. Crassus was visibly astonished and put on a convincing show of disbelief.
“How could Caesar enter the city? He was supposed to be at the Campus Martius. Did he give up his triumph or something?”
“What else could it be? Caesar came here today with a large entourage and officially registered as a candidate. It’s something we never anticipated.”
Cato’s eyes widened in disbelief. “So you just accepted his registration? You should have refused him on the spot.”
“How could I refuse? Caesar brought at least a hundred supporters with him. There were so many witnesses that any attempt to deny him would have only made me look foolish.”
“…I see. Caesar must have created a situation where you had no choice but to accept his registration. Damn it! Didn’t I warn you? Caesar is not like Pompey. You were all too complacent.”
“That can’t be helped, can it?”
Crassus frowned and bit his lip. “Who would give up a triumph for an annual election? To be honest, I still can’t believe it.”
Crassus’s reaction was sincere, and everyone except Marcus agreed with him.
Cicero remarked, “Caesar seems to think differently from us—or rather, from ordinary Romans.”
“He’s insane!” Cato snapped, his anger and confusion evident as he gulped down wine and grimaced. “I have a bad feeling about this. I don’t know what he’s planning, and that makes me even more anxious.”
In contrast to Cato’s frantic reaction, Bibulus maintained a relatively calm demeanor. “There’s no need to worry too much. As long as the Senate supports me, I will still be consul. That’s a certainty. I will veto all of Caesar’s proposals, no matter how absurd. Isn’t that strategy sufficient?”
Cato pressed his forehead as if trying to stave off a headache. The threat of vetoing all of Caesar’s bills meant that political activity in Rome would be paralyzed once again. The Senate had already halted political activities for over a year using the same tactic against Pompey. If this continued for another year, it would have a severe negative impact on public opinion.
Cato had no energy to criticize Bibulus, who abused his veto power without considering the basics.
Cicero, who had no intention of getting involved, whispered to Marcus, “Your trick didn’t work this time. Maybe you’re facing failure for the first time.”
“For the first time? I haven’t had such a perfect life.”
“Hmm… From my perspective, you seemed flawless. Anyway, even if Caesar becomes praetor, he won’t be able to achieve much. Don’t worry too much. Bibulus will ruin his reputation by blocking Caesar’s every move.”
“That’s quite an apt metaphor.”
Cicero laughed softly so only Marcus could hear. “But Bibulus and the other senators don’t realize that. I don’t care much about Caesar’s case, so it’s not a big problem for me. However, be cautious not to get caught up in this mess. It might be wise to distance yourself from this issue as I have.”
“Thank you for your advice. I’ll keep it in mind.”
Cicero and Marcus observed the heated debate from a distance, but unfortunately, no effective solution emerged by the end of the meeting.
Cato, boiling with anger at Bibulus’s absurd statements, continued drinking wine. The long meeting only resulted in a few deep wrinkles on his forehead.
Meanwhile, Caesar pressed forward with his plan. He submitted a bill through Hortensius, a trusted ally, proposing to lower the age limit for aediles from 30 to 27 years.
To persuade the citizens, Caesar added a convincing rationale. He argued that the current age limit was disadvantageous to plebeians, who often had difficulty remaining influential until the age of 30. Many had already become plebeian nobles with Senate seats.
“Sulla exploited this system by enforcing such a strict age limit. It benefits only the nobles. There are many young men eager to provide grain and festivals to the citizens. Shouldn’t these individuals have a chance to become aediles before entering the Senate?”
The citizens, swayed by Hortensius’s rhetoric, showed their support.
The Senate, which had been preoccupied with Clodius, was caught off guard once more. Hortensius’s active campaigning allowed Clodius to take a break, as prolonged aggressive tactics might tire the citizens.
The Senate convened an emergency meeting to discuss countermeasures. They unanimously suspected that Hortensius was merely a puppet of Caesar and anticipated Caesar’s intentions.
Cato, a well-known expert on Caesar, clenched his fists in frustration. “Caesar plans to use the assembly to his advantage if he becomes consul. He has already co-opted two tribunes, Clodius and Batinius, and now aims to win more popular support by installing his young followers as aediles. This poses a serious threat to us.”
“What do you propose we do?”
“We can’t overturn the bill that’s already passed. Our only option is to nominate stronger aedile candidates than Caesar’s. If our noble aediles achieve more significant results, the citizens will likely support the Senate.”
“Ah, I see. You mean to organize grand festivals and distribute grain to overshadow their efforts. It sounds like a good idea, though it will be a costly competition…”
The older senators looked to the younger senators who had not yet served as aediles. However, most of the young senators avoided eye contact. They were willing to become aediles even if it meant borrowing money, but the burden was too great this time.
Competing directly with the populares required substantial funds. No one volunteered, frustrating the senior senators.
Silanus, a former consul, lamented, “Heh… This is a golden opportunity to earn the Senate’s trust, yet no one is willing to step up. How can you lack such ambition?”
Even with his open pressure, no one came forward. The financial burden of the aedileship made it a certain way to lose money, and without Senate support, taking on the role was too risky.
Of course, the senior senators were unwilling to spend their own money either. If they funded the festival, the aediles would gain the popularity, not them. Who would want to benefit someone else at their own expense?
As their selfishness collided, an awkward silence filled the meeting room.
The registration deadline was the next day. As time ticked away, the anxious senators began to turn their gaze towards Marcus. With his immense wealth and popularity among the citizens, if he agreed to run, their concerns would be resolved.
Marcus, feeling their desperate stares, spoke with a hint of embarrassment. “I do have a desire to serve the citizens of Rome. However, the age limit for aediles is 30, and I’m not yet qualified. The recent bill lowering the age limit only passed because it was forced through the assembly…”
“It doesn’t matter how it was passed. The bill is now law, so you are qualified!”
“Yes, yes. If you run, who would dare oppose you?”
“Anyone opposing you would be seen as Caesar’s ally!”
The senior optimates chimed in eagerly, bolstering the pressure on Marcus. The atmosphere clearly favored him becoming an aedile.
Marcus finally stood up and bowed his head toward the hopeful senators. “Though I’m still inexperienced, if the Senate wishes for me to serve as an aedile, I will do my best.”
The room erupted in applause as all the senators expressed their approval. Marcus kept his head bowed, a victorious smile flashing across his lips.