The Seven Hills

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Hamilcar, shofet of Carthage, found to his surprise that he was pleased with the world. The failure of his Egyptian expedition was no more than a temporary setback, the usurpation of Carthaginian territory by resurgent Rome nothing more than a worthy challenge whereby he could prove to the world his greatness, that he was no mere inheritor, but a conqueror in his own right.

The news from the River Arnus had filled him with satisfaction. Two whole Roman legions utterly annihilated! The myth of Roman superiority destroyed! And he was not at all displeased that Mastanabal had been forced by his losses to retreat. For the general to have continued to march against Rome, even to capture the city, would have given him more honor than he should have. Then Mastanabal would have been the hero of this war, not his shofet. That would have been unfitting, and would have resulted in the general's immediate execution, lest he march against Hamilcar and seize the throne for himself. With Mastanabal safely in Gaul, raising troops for a renewed assault upon Rome from the north, he served his purpose perfectly. The Romans would strip badly needed legions from the South to guard against that renewed attack, which would not come until Hamilcar was ready.

True, the great delay in his war plans caused by the fire rankled, but it might have been a blessing sent by the gods of Carthage, restraining him from moving too fast. There was no doubt that he was now in a far better position than he had been. Perhaps, they had also sent him Queen Teuta, who had so stimulated his mind, bringing out his true genius and helping him to recognize his destiny.

As a bonus, news of the victory had deflated Zarabel's pretensions. The priests of Tanit did not call quite so loudly for a Tophet. They could not claim that the gods of Carthage had deserted her. Possibly, it was time to do something about Zarabel, as Queen Teuta urged constantly.

"Princess, this is no more than a setback," Echaz said, wringing his hands. "Who could have foretold that General Mastanabal would prove so capable, or that all the Roman legions are not as formidable as those we saw here?"

"How, indeed," she said bitterly, glaring at the eunuch. "Or that Hamilcar would strike from the north before even setting sail with his main army? Has my brother suddenly grown crafty? I doubt it." With a hiss, she threw herself upon her couch. Slaves rushed to fan her.

She shook her head. The priest was useless in this crisis. He could think only in terms of the temples and the city of Carthage itself. He was incapable of thinking on a world scale. This very thought set her mind along another course.

She had let herself be distracted too long by the ancient struggle for power between priest and shofet, between Tanit and Baal-Hammon, between herself and her brother.

New powers were at work now. Rome was back. Parthia threatened to engulf the East. Even Ptolemaic Egypt, sunk in decadence and torpor, was waking under the influence of the strange Roman soldier-savant Scipio and the bizarre Archimedean school of the Museum. It was time for her to take action on a world scale. She must bend some of these powers to her own purposes or go under along with Carthage. Courses of action began to come together in her mind, and it was like waking from a long sleep. She sat up and waved her slaves aside. She leapt from the bed and began pacing back and forth.

"Echaz, call in my scribes. Then send out servants to summon my confidential sea agents. I have letters to deliver over a wide area of the sea, and I want this done quickly."

"At once, Princess!" the priest chirped, overjoyed to see his sovereign and high priestess taking decisive action.

The faces of important men appeared in her mind's eye, and she ticked them off one by one: Hamilcar, her brother, was the enemy. Marcus Scipio was lost to her, now involved with Selene of Egypt. Titus Norbanus, the would-be new Alexander, was both capable and malleable. And General Mastanabal, victor of the Avernus, was an ambitious man.

Swiftly, her. lethargy now gone, she put them in order and made her plans for what to do with each of them.

"What are we to do with them?" Agathocles asked. He was the head of the Athenian Council, a board of the glorious city's richest men.

"Do with them?" said Herophilus, his eyes twinkling maliciously. "You mean, they are ours to do with as we please? The question is: What are they going to do with us?"

"They look awful and smell worse," Laches said, "but they are not all that numerous and they are in our territory."

The council had been in emergency session since word had come of the arrival of the Romans. It did not come as a total surprise, since Greek skippers had been reporting regularly of the amazing progress of the Roman legions from Egypt through Judea and the Seleucid territories and along the coastline of Ionia. The speed of the march was phenomenal, and the Roman commander's almost offhanded acquisition of a naval arm was stupefying. Still, when they woke up to find that the Romans occupied Piraeus, just a quick march down the Long Walls from Athens, the effect was stunning.

"What advantage is it that they are in our territory?" Herophilus demanded. "Can we just call up an army of veterans to repel them? Half the fighting men of Greece have turned mercenary and are signing on with Hamilcar of Carthage. Many of our best naval officers are helping the Romans build and officer a fleet."

"There have been no threats of hostility so far," cautioned Libon, the greatest banker in Athens. "Let's not talk as if war was in the offing. These Romans seem to be eminently practical men, except for their somewhat obsessive need to humble Carthage. The Roman ambassador has already requested that we render every assistance to their wandering army, and that we will incur the gratitude of the Senate thereby."

"And the undying enmity of Carthage," Agathocles said.

"When have we ever known anything but hostility from Carthage?" Laches asked. "I don't like this resurgence of Rome, but they have put a check to Hamilcar's ambitions, and for this we owe them something."

Agathocles was about to say something when the doorman entered and informed them that a Roman spokesman had arrived from Piraeus.

"Well, let's have a look at this prodigy," Agathocles said. Moments later a man in gilded armor strode into the room, trailing a brilliant scarlet cloak. Under his arm he cradled a plumed helmet. His handsome face was craggy and fierce, as they had come to expect from Romans. Agathocles introduced himself and the other members of the council. "I take it I address the glorious Titus Norbanus?"

"I am Decimus Arrunteius, admiral of the Roman fleet. My general sends his compliments to the noble Council of Athens, and regrets that he cannot come to you personally, but must attend to his duties in Piraeus."

"It is most irregular to send a subordinate, when only eight miles separate Piraeus from Athens," Agathocles said.

"Yes," concurred Herophilus, "I'd think that your commander would be anxious to tour the Long Walls and scout for weak spots." The others chuckled uncomfortably.

"No need," Arrunteius said. "I can describe every stone myself. There's a shocking bulge in the wall two miles from Piraeus. I suspect it dates from the rebuilding after Lysander of Sparta tore the walls down. A little battering at that spot will bring down a section twenty paces wide, and it wouldn't take a whole morning's work." He enjoyed their stupefied expressions for a moment. "But, enough of military matters. My general is most anxious to establish friendly relations with the noble Council."

"We have already established cordial relations with your Senate," Agathocles said with great dignity.

"Yes, I'm sure," said the very young and impossibly arrogant Roman. "But General Norbanus wishes to put his esteem on a more personal footing, something to proclaim his own friendship with this august body." He clapped his hands. His palms were so hardened by a lifetime of drill with sword, spear and shield that it was like two slabs of hardwood striking together. Slaves entered, bearing on their shoulders poles from which hung bronze-strapped chests. These they set down, and soon there were.some fifty of the boxes nearly covering the floor. Arrunteius began flinging back the lids.

"Thus does General Norbanus declare his esteem, with gifts for the noble Council of Athens."

The Council gazed upon the boxes with bedazzled eyes. Each was full of gold in the form of bars or coins. They were rich men, but the wealth of Greece was trifling compared with that of the East.

"I think," said Libon the banker, "that your general will find that he has many, many friends in Athens."

Titus Norbanus watched the building of his fleet and fretted at the slowness of the work, although he knew perfectly well that it was proceeding with unprecedented speed. The ship works of Piraeus and the neighboring ports had been put at his disposal, and he was constructing transports for all his men, all his treasure and even his animals. It would have been feasible simply to use the hulls he arrived with to ferry men and materiel to Italy, each vessel making several crossings. But for his own reasons, he wanted everything to arrive at once.

Besides, he had much more than a short crossing in mind for his fleet. These ships were destined for a very long voyage, indeed.

"When do we sail, Master?" asked Glaphyra, drifting into his line of vision from the right. Roxana appeared from the left. As usual, he had heard neither of them.

"We long to see Italy," Roxana said. "Will we have a great villa there? We hear it is so much more beautiful than Judea, or Greece."

"I will give you luxury beyond your expectations, never fear," he assured them. "And we sail before the next turning of the moon. I've already sacrificed at the great temple of Poseidon for a safe voyage."

"We have calculated the best days for sailing," Glaphyra said, unrolling a scroll. "It must be on the waxing of the moon, so that your fortunes will increase proportionately."

"And your father's birth sign indicates that his destiny and yours will intersect momentously," Roxana added.

"What are my immediate prospects?" Norbanus wanted to know.

"Limitless," said both sisters together.

"Leave me," he said. "I have work to do." The sisters drifted away and he went over the election results. They had arrived by courier that morning, the news only a few days old. Courier routes were now established throughout Italy, and swift cutters plied the waters to Rome's ever-growing establishment of overseas bases.

True to his father's promise, one of the year's consuls was Hermanicus, the new family adherent of. the Norbani. The other was a Gracchus, old family but not a man of great distinction. This was only to be expected with most of the best soldiers on active service with the legions. The old and the unfit would be presiding in Rome for some time to come, and that would be bad in the future. Bad for the republic at large, anyway. Norbanus planned to use the fact to his advantage.

The rest of the list of winners was even more satisfying. The key office was the tribunate of the plebs, and this year's slate included no fewer than five whose influence could be counted upon. This was enough to ensure almost any favorable legislation he might need. The Senate was powerful in assigning military commands, but the Plebeian Assembly could override Senate appointments. A tribune could veto an act of the Senate. A tribune could enact a bill to give command to a favorite of the plebs.

The old families had the prestige of long tenure in the Senate, but the new families were supreme in the popular assemblies where most of the work of Rome got done. And greatest of the new families were the Norbani.

He went into the great warehouse he had commandeered as his headquarters. Here his secretaries copied out his orders, his quaestors kept accounts, his officers rendered their reports. At one end of the huge room a crew of draftsmen worked at a crucial task. Norbanus had ordered maps drawn: maps of the whole littoral touched by the great Middle Sea. He wanted careful depictions of every port, every town, every river, with distances noted and resources listed. He knew how frustrating it was for a general to be lost, and how much easier it was to make plans if he knew what lay before him.

Greek skippers knew every foot of that coastline intimately, and he paid them well to yield their secrets. Titus Norbanus plundered mercilessly, but he did not value wealth for its own sake. Gold was just something with which to buy the important things. With gold he subverted foreign rulers. With gold he enriched his men and secured their loyalty to himself. He could buy the secrets of Greek traders and the services of spies. He could afford to spend lavishly because with these things at his disposal he could seize all the wealth in the world. Gold was good. Power was better.

He went to the table and called for a particular map. It depicted the coast of southern Gaul and Spain all the way to the Pillars of Hercules. This was where the Carthaginian, Mastanabal, had advanced and then retreated. Another showed the North African coast from the southern pillar all the way to Carthage. He had been studying these maps with intensity for some time, memorizing their every feature. He had plans for those particular stretches of coast.

Back outside, he listened to the sound of hammering from the shipyards and fretted once again, trying by sheer will to hurry the process. His expanded fleet had to be ready to sail by the next waxing moon. Then he would ride the sea to his destiny.

Queen Teuta sat beneath the shade of the awning stretched before her great tent. She had permanent quarters in the enormous palace of the shofet, but she could not abide stone walls and solid ceilings for long. After a few days they seemed to press in upon her and she had to go back to her tent. Always, she felt most at home beneath the limitless sky, where dwelt the spirits of her nomad ancestors.

She was bored and eager for action. The army was strong enough, the transport fleet almost completely rebuilt. There was nothing to be gained by further waiting. She wanted to urge Hamilcar to action, but she knew better. She had planted the seeds of her own plans, and now they had to reach fruition in his mind as if they had been his own. Too much pressure from her would ruin it.

"My queen, the shofet comes," said one of her guards.

"I hope he's made up his mind," she muttered.

Hamilcar arrived amid a suite of officers and an honor guard of a hundred Spanish horsemen. Teuta rose to greet him and he dismounted and took her hands.

"Queen Teuta," he said, "I have given orders. The army will begin its march on the morning after tomorrow. I will want you in the vanguard with me when we move west."

"West?" she said, marveling as if it were not her own plan to begin with. "We go to the Pillars and across the strait to Spain? It is a bold plan. I know it is one of several we discussed, but I considered it the most unlikely."

"I know," he said, "but for that very reason it is the last one the Romans will suspect. They think to lure me to Sicily. That island is a fought-over carcass now, and all its strong points are already in their hands. My army would starve while theirs rested behind strong walls. No, better to take Hannibal's old route, but with my navy accompanying us just offshore as we march."

She pretended doubt. "But the Romans are bold as well. They may cross from Sicily and lay siege to Carthage itself."

He shrugged. "The walls of Carthage are the strongest in the world. Only the subject people would suffer, and it's time they repaid Carthage for all they have gained from us. If the Romans come, they will pull back to Italy as soon as they know their precious seven hills are menaced."

"Then let us go to Spain, Your Majesty," she said, her tattooed face twisting into a smile.

"Consuls and senators of Rome," Gabinius announced, "our wandering general is back, with his army and a baggage train that sounds as if it is the size of a small nation."

The news had come from Brundisium days ago that Norbanus had landed and that he had with him a huge fleet. Just unloading it all had taken several days, and only then had the army made its way toward the Seven Hills.

Now, from outside the curia, the Senate could hear the wild cheering of the citizenry as they flocked to the walls to see this prodigy.

The Consul Hermanicus stood. "I propose that we vote days of thanksgiving to the gods for this happy event."

"Why?" demanded his colleague. "Because the boy managed to get home alive and didn't lose most of his army doing it?"

A senator stood. "You are just jealous that a new family general has so gloriously won a name for himself!" The house erupted into the customary squabble, which lasted until Gabinius managed to calm them.

"Senators, we have a greater question before us: Are we to go out and meet Norbanus as he desires, or do we demand that he report here to us?"

Things subsided into a low mutter, for this was a thorny question. Norbanus did not want to cross the pomerium, the ancient boundary of the city marked out by Romulus with his plow. By custom, to do so would mean laying down his imperium, becoming an ordinary citizen. Many argued that he had never been properly invested with imperium in the first place. He was not an official general, could not petition the Senate for a triumph and was duty-bound as an ordinary Roman officer to come to the Senate on foot and render his report. The debate had raged since word of his arrival in Italy.

The Consul Hermanicus stood. "Senators, we may plead to Jupiter himself for a decision, but in the end we must face reality. There is no precedent for the things that have happened since we left Noricum to retake our homeland. The extraordinary command that we gave to the younger Titus Norbanus is one of those things. We allowed him proconsular power, and now we must render him proconsular honors. He is at the head of a large army made up of men who by now adore him. He has made them rich and has gotten very few of them killed in the process. It would be ill-advised of us to alienate such men."

Gabinius stood. "I agree with our consul. It pains me to see the Senate of Rome humble itself before a young man who has yet to win a major battle or add a foot of territory to Rome's empire, yet it is expedient. If there has been a miscalculation, it was made here when we bestowed upon him a command without his having first held the requisite offices. We will make many more such decisions in the future, and then as now we will have to live with the consequences. He has done something extraordinary, so let's go out and greet this young Alexander."

There was some protest, but in the end the Senate of Rome, at least what was available of it with so many members away with the legions, set out for the encampment upon the Field of Mars, the traditional drill and exercise ground northwest of the city. Here the legions of Norbanus had set up their tents, and the place swarmed with citizens, slaves and foreigners who had poured from the city to greet the returning heroes. It was a short walk from the Senate house out the Fontinalis Gate and along the Clivus Argentarius to the great field.

At the Senate's approach, the trumpets sounded and the legions drew up as if for inspection. As the senators passed the soldiers, they examined them. Some senators were amused, others appalled.

"Did you ever see such a pack of bandits?" asked one.

"They look-successful," hazarded another.

The legionaries wore tunics of every conceivable color. Most had managed to retain their Roman armor, but some wore Greek, Syrian or Judean gear, and there were some peculiar helmets. Many wore helmet crests made from the feathers of birds previously unseen by Romans. They sported splendid cloaks and wore a great deal of gold and silver. Even amid all this finery, they were burned dark and splendidly fit.

"They look dangerous," commented Gabinius.

"To Rome's enemies or to Rome?" asked a companion in a low voice.

"To any who displease them," Gabinius answered.

They found Titus Norbanus the younger awaiting them in front of the biggest tent any of them had ever seen. Its colors were extravagant, and on the ground before it were spread carpets of fabulous weave. Around the tent were set huge braziers of worked bronze, in which burned a fortune in incense, perfuming the air.

"Is that a tent or has he raised a temple to himself?" quipped a senator.

"Do try not to look too impressed, gentlemen," Gabinius sighed. "The boy seems to think quite enough of himself as it is."

Only when the lictors who preceded the consuls stepped onto the carpeted ground did Norbanus make his appearance, striding from within the tent, smiling. At the sight of him, jaws dropped and eyes bugged. He wore his golden armor, patterned on Alexander's, and he carried his lion-mask helmet. The hilt of his sword was of ivory carved with an eagle's head. His belt was made of plates of solid gold. Instead of soldiers' hobnailed caligae, he wore Greek hunting boots that laced to the knee and were topped with lynx skin.

What raised their outrage, though, was his cloak. It was voluminous and trailed behind him in graceful folds. It was also dyed with Tyrian purple. Someone made a strangled sound, but the consuls made calming gestures.

"Welcome to Rome, Titus Norbanus," said the Consul Hermanicus.

"I greet the noble Senate," Norbanus said.

"We can hardly help noting," said the other consul, "that you are wearing a triumphator's robe. By what right do you assume this?"

Norbanus stroked the incredible garment. "This was a gift from King Jonathan of Judea. It was not voted by the Senate."

"Take it off!" shouted several senators.

"One day I will enter Rome in triumph, and then I shall wear it as part of my regalia. In the meantime, I am outside the walls and can wear anything I want." He savored the fuming for a few moments, then: "But let's not bicker, honored senators. Please come into my tent. I have something within that you will wish to see."

Baffled by such presumption, they went within. Light of many colors shone through the cloth of the roof, revealing that spectacular hangings encircled the walls. A set of bleachers had been erected within, shaped like a horseshoe and rising to five tiers of seats, but no wood could be seen. All was covered with carpeting, rich cloth and animal skins. At one end stood a dais for the consuls, with twin curule chairs made of carved ivory, the seats draped with the striped skins of Indian tigers.

But what drew the amazed eyes of the senators was not the tent, or the incredible seating arrangements, but what lay within the horseshoe of seats. Upon the carpeted ground was a map, but such a map as none of them had ever seen. It was not drawn, but modeled in three dimensions. It showed the western half of the Middle Sea, from Italy in the north and Carthage in the south, westward all the way to the Pillars of Hercules. The mainland and islands were subtly carved from fragrant woods; the cities modeled in gold and silver and carved amber inlaid with jewels. The principal roads were inlaid in silver, as was the lettering that identified every feature. Most intriguing of all was the sea itself: It was made of some shiny, rippling blue cloth.

"Pollux!" someone croaked at last. "That sea is made of silk!" It was the most precious substance on earth, and here were hundreds of yards of it used to make a map!

"Gentlemen," Norbanus said, "if you will take your seats, I will make a proposal that I believe you will all find to be of greatest interest."

Silently, the senators filed into the bleachers as the consuls took their curule chairs and the lictors ranged themselves before the serving magistrates. Gabinius took his own place without comment. He knew the boy had them now, as surely as a man who has thoroughly seduced a woman-not by the glory of his arms, or the greatness of his accomplishments. No, he had won them more subtly, using a great national weakness: the Romans' childlike love of spectacle. He was putting on a presentation worthy of the funeral games for a great leader.

Now young Norbanus was joined by the previous year's consul, his father. The elder Norbanus wore military uniform, ready to take up a proconsular command voted by the Senate. He looked upon his son and beamed with pride. At precisely the right moment, young Norbanus stepped out onto the sea and walked across it as if he were able to stride upon water. The spectators gasped. A man dared to walk on silk!

"Noble senators, revered consuls," young Norbanus began, "I return to you with a vast treasure, more wealth than Rome ever saw in her most glorious days before Hannibal. Even now, my slaves prepare to carry the bulk of it to the Temple of Saturn." From ancient times, the crypts beneath that temple had served as Rome's principal treasury.

"I bring four legions, experienced as no legions have ever before been, accompanied by auxilia who have volunteered themselves to Rome's service. All these fighting men, the finest in the world, await the orders of the noble Senate." He paused and looked over his map, half turning to take it all in, like Jupiter himself surveying his kingdom. "And yet this treasure is not safe. Rome is not safe. Because, senators and consuls, Carthage still stands!" On the last three words his voice rose to a thrilling shout. He held them spellbound, experienced orators though they were.

"Senators, I stand before you as Rome's most loyal servant. Outside stand Rome's most capable soldiers. Use us! I did not just lead the greatest march in Roman history so that I could stay here and build a villa and bask in the admiration of my peers. Senators, my march is not yet half-completed!"

The senators muttered and looked at one another. What could he mean?

"Senators, for more than a hundred years we let our minds be fixated upon one thought: Destroy Carthage! Like a man tracking a lion to its den, we thought only of going south, taking Sicily, and jumping off from there to attack the great city itself. We thought about this so single-mindedly that we left a back door open to the Carthaginians. We forgot that they could attack us from the north, despite the fact that Hannibal did that very thing! Only by luck and the favor of the gods did we survive this blunder. The soldiers fought like Romans always do, and the Carthaginian general, while better than ours, was no Hannibal. Look!"

He pointed a beringed finger at the golden model of Rome, then drew an imaginary line along the Italian coast northward to Cisalpine Gaul, then along its southern coast and that of Spain.

"I propose that I take my army and march north. I will pick up the legions that replaced those lost at the Arnus and with them proceed through Gaul to Spain and the Pillars of Hercules. I will take every city along my route: Massilia, Narbo, Cartago Nova and the rest. I will reduce them and make them swear obedience to Rome. Any natives who resist I will crush. Any Carthaginian army I meet I will destroy, and I swear by all the gods that I will not spare a single man who takes the pay of Hamilcar. All must die."

Now he looked at Africa. "From Spain I will cross the strait to Mauretania and then march east. I will make alliance with the kings and chieftains of Numidia and Libya. Failing that, I will crush them, too. I will strike the city of Carthage from the west, while the main force strikes from Sicily. We will have Carthage in a vise and she will crack open like rotten wood."

"How will such a campaign be supported, even supposing we agree to it?" Gabinius asked.

"I have a navy now, a very large one. It will accompany my march and will deal with any Carthaginian fleet that dares show itself."

An elderly Brutus stood. "Your army! Your fleet! Have you become Rome, young Norbanus?"

Norbanus did not flinch. "We knew what the gods wanted when the eagles flew south from Noricum. I think the gods have now shown that they favor me. Dare their displeasure if you will."

The Senate held its collective breath, but Jupiter sent no lightning.

"And I want the main thrust, to be launched from Sicily, to be commanded by my father, Titus Norbanus the elder."

The uproar was fit to rend the roof and send it skyward in tattered ribbons. The consuls sent their lictors into the bleachers to enforce silence.

"General Norbanus," said the Consul Gracchus when order was restored, "we cannot contemplate a major campaign in which members of the same family hold the highest command. We have already apportioned military duties for the upcoming invasion of Africa. Your father, the Proconsul Norbanus, of course has a splendid command, with three legions assigned to the first thrust against Carthage. But overall command has been given to the Proconsul Scaeva, hero of Syracuse. You both deserve honor, but not this." There came a rumble of agreement.

Now the elder Norbanus stepped forward. He had nothing like his son's dash and flair, and he wore plain iron mail of Gallic make and carried a simple bronze helmet beneath his arm, but he was a man of impressive gravity. "Noble senators, there will be quibbling in this house until we all die of old age. My son's war plan is bold, but it is worthy of Rome, where only greatness is acceptable. You may call for a division of the house, you may call for ten divisions. It does not matter, because this will be determined by the Roman people."

He swept the assembled senators with his eagle gaze. "Even now, the tribunes of the plebs are calling for an assembly. The Tribune Aemilius will place before the people a new law, the lex Aemilia, which will assign the commands for this war exactly as has just been outlined to you. That law will pass, I assure you. You can accede gracefully and ratify the law, or you can continue in stiff-necked opposition, but then you will only earn the contempt the people always give to obstinate aristocrats."

In the low mutter that followed this statement, Gabinius sat with his eyes closed, feeling every one of his many years. Much was clear now. All year there had been rumors: that young Norbanus was sending chests of money from the East, that some decidedly odd men were standing for the office of tribune of the plebs. He had paid little attention at the time. Strange things were bound to happen when all the best men were away with the legions. Now he understood what had been happening all along. The Norbani had accomplished something very like a coup.

He looked around at his fellow senators. Had this been an ordinary session, had the younger senators not been away on military service, violence would have broken out by now. Weapons might have been drawn. These men were too old or unfit, to resist strongly, and that, too, had been a part of the Norbanus plan. He rose, leaning on his walking stick, and slowly the Senate quieted.

"My colleagues, I see that a new star has risen in the Roman firmament. In the past, since we expelled the Etruscan kings, it has been our practice to see that no one family, no one man, ever held the power that we once granted only to kings. But who is to say that this did not bring upon us many disastrous defeats? Perhaps a Roman king would have crushed Hannibal in the first battle. No matter. What is absolutely clear is that these are extraordinary times. At this hour, we are as the Greek army before Troy, when the actions of Agamemnon offended Apollo. Are we to send Achilles to his tent to sulk in the hour when we need him most?" He gestured eloquently in supplication to his peers. Then he went on.

"I think not. You all know me. None has been so firm in opposing the pretensions of military adventurers. None has been so staunch in defense of our ancient liberties. Yet, all of you know me as a voice of reason. When many accused young Scipio of treason, I counseled that we give him his head. He is doing something new; let us see what he can make of it. When others said that young Norbanus was far exceeding the authority granted him, I said that we put him in a terrible position, let him extricate himself and his men as he may. And now who can say that he has not succeeded gloriously?

"Now this same youth proposes something incredible. He wants to finish a complete circumambulation of the Middle Sea by a Roman army, finishing with a siege of Carthage. Is this overweening ambition? Absolutely. But I agree with his father. This thing is worthy! The gods do not expect less of us. I, wholeheartedly and in advance of any decision by the Consilium Plebis, say that we must give Norbanus the younger what he demands." Abruptly, he sat. He hoped fervently that his colleagues would understand his implication: that by conceding, they set the incredibly ambitious boy up to fail in a spectacular manner. And if he should succeed?

Well, Gabinius thought, perhaps this is the future and the will of the gods: that Rome be ruled henceforth by its best generals instead of its oldest families. Who is to say that this is not just?

While the Senate debated, the two Norbani came to speak with the princeps.

"That was the sort of statesmanship that raised Rome to power over the barbarians," the elder Norbanus said.

"I did not expect this, Princeps," said the younger.

Hands folded atop his cane, Gabinius studied the glittering boy before him. "You have risen far and fast, young Titus. Men have risen so before. Rome has a way of raising such men in times of crisis. Rome also has a way of tearing them down as swiftly."

The father smiled crookedly. "You think I haven't told him that?"

"You are making mortal enemies," Gabinius pointed out.

"The greatness of a man is, judged by the number and quality of his enemies," said Norbanus the younger. "What else is the point of our lives?" It was the simple philosophy of the Senate, an intensely competitive body of men in which each strove for honor above his peers.

"Much leeway is granted the truly gifted among us," Gabinius told him. "Those touched by the gods are not always treated as ordinary men. But their actions must always be understood to be for Rome's benefit, not their own."

Young Norbanus bristled, but his father. stepped in smoothly. "No one has ever accused the Norbani of disloyalty, or of striving for their own glory to the detriment of Rome's welfare. But this is our hour, and Rome will be the greater for it."

Gabinius nodded, knowing destiny when it stared him in the face. In time the senators came to an agreement and they descended from the seats, coming down onto the "sea" to congratulate the Norbani.

Ihave lived to see the Senate of Rome walking on silk, Gabinius thought. What can this portend for the future?