Read Online The First Man in Rome by Colleen McCullough - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Colleen McCullough
Tags: Fiction, Historical
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home was vital. Yet here he sat, impotent. Were he to leave without the Senate's permission, his departure might be viewed as an act of war. As far as he knew, no one in Rome wanted war, but he didn't have enough evidence to tell him which way the Senate might jump if he did leave. And though it could not pass laws, the Senate had all the say in foreign affairs, from declaring war to governing the Roman provinces. His agents had reported that Marcus Aemilius Scaurus was furious at Gaius Baebius's veto. And Scaurus had enormous clout in the Senate, had once already swung it around single-handedly. Scaurus was of the opinion that Jugurtha boded no good for Rome.
Bomilcar the half brother sat quietly, waiting for Jugurtha to abandon his brooding. He had news to impart, but he knew his king better than to broach it while the storm signs were showing. A wonderful man, Jugurtha. So much innate ability! And how hard had his lot been because of the accident of his low birth. Why did heredity matter so much? The Punic Carthaginian blood in all the Numidian nobility was very marked in Jugurtha, but so too was the Berber blood he got from his mother. Both were Semitic peoples, but the Berber had lived far longer in North Africa than the Punic.
In Jugurtha the two strains of Semite were perfectly married. From his mother's Berber fairness he had inherited his light grey eyes, his straight nose, and his long, gaunt-cheeked face, and from her too he had inherited his height. But from his father Mastanabal's Punic blood came his corkscrew-curled black locks, his dense black body hair, his swarthy skin, and his big-boned frame. Perhaps that was why he was so impressive: the eyes were a shock to see in one so dark, and frightening too. Hellenized by centuries of exposure to the Greeks, the Numidian upper classes wore Greek dress, which did not really suit Jugurtha, who looked his best in helmet and cuirass and greaves, sword at his side, war-horse champing. A pity, thought Bomilcar, that the Romans in Rome had never seen the King garbed for war; and then he shivered, horrified at the thought. A temptation of fate, to think that! Better offer the goddess Fortuna a sacrifice tomorrow, that the Romans never did see Jugurtha garbed for war.
The King was relaxing; his face had softened. Awful, to have to banish this hard-earned peace, burden him with a fresh worry. But better he should hear it from his loyalest baron, his own brother, than have the news blurted out to him by some idiot agent avid to cause a maximum of consternation.
"My lord king?" asked Bomilcar tentatively.
The grey eyes turned his way immediately. "Yes?"
"I heard a rumor yesterday, at the house of Quintus Caecilius Metellus."
That flicked Jugurtha on the raw, of course; Bomilcar could go where he liked inside Rome, for he wasn't an anointed king. It was Bomilcar who was invited to dine, not Jugurtha.
"What?" asked the King curtly.
"Massiva has turned up here in Rome. What's more, he's managed to interest the consul Spurius Postumius Albinus in his case, and intends to have Albinus petition the Senate.''
The King sat up quickly, swinging his chair around so he could look directly into Bomilcar's face. "I wondered where the miserable little worm had wriggled off to," he said. "Now I know, don't I? But why him, and not me? Albinus must know I'll pay him more than Massiva ever could."
"Not according to my sources," said Bomilcar uneasily. "I suspect they've made a deal which depends upon Albinus's being awarded Africa Province as his governorship. You're stuck here in Rome; Albinus hies himself off to Africa Province with a neat little army, a quick march across the border to Cirta, and—all hail King Massiva of Numidia! I imagine King Massiva of Numidia will be very willing to pay Albinus pretty much what he asks."
"I've got to get home!" the King cried.
"I know! But how, tell me how?"
"You don't think there's any chance I could sway Albinus? I've still got money on
Bomilcar the half brother sat quietly, waiting for Jugurtha to abandon his brooding. He had news to impart, but he knew his king better than to broach it while the storm signs were showing. A wonderful man, Jugurtha. So much innate ability! And how hard had his lot been because of the accident of his low birth. Why did heredity matter so much? The Punic Carthaginian blood in all the Numidian nobility was very marked in Jugurtha, but so too was the Berber blood he got from his mother. Both were Semitic peoples, but the Berber had lived far longer in North Africa than the Punic.
In Jugurtha the two strains of Semite were perfectly married. From his mother's Berber fairness he had inherited his light grey eyes, his straight nose, and his long, gaunt-cheeked face, and from her too he had inherited his height. But from his father Mastanabal's Punic blood came his corkscrew-curled black locks, his dense black body hair, his swarthy skin, and his big-boned frame. Perhaps that was why he was so impressive: the eyes were a shock to see in one so dark, and frightening too. Hellenized by centuries of exposure to the Greeks, the Numidian upper classes wore Greek dress, which did not really suit Jugurtha, who looked his best in helmet and cuirass and greaves, sword at his side, war-horse champing. A pity, thought Bomilcar, that the Romans in Rome had never seen the King garbed for war; and then he shivered, horrified at the thought. A temptation of fate, to think that! Better offer the goddess Fortuna a sacrifice tomorrow, that the Romans never did see Jugurtha garbed for war.
The King was relaxing; his face had softened. Awful, to have to banish this hard-earned peace, burden him with a fresh worry. But better he should hear it from his loyalest baron, his own brother, than have the news blurted out to him by some idiot agent avid to cause a maximum of consternation.
"My lord king?" asked Bomilcar tentatively.
The grey eyes turned his way immediately. "Yes?"
"I heard a rumor yesterday, at the house of Quintus Caecilius Metellus."
That flicked Jugurtha on the raw, of course; Bomilcar could go where he liked inside Rome, for he wasn't an anointed king. It was Bomilcar who was invited to dine, not Jugurtha.
"What?" asked the King curtly.
"Massiva has turned up here in Rome. What's more, he's managed to interest the consul Spurius Postumius Albinus in his case, and intends to have Albinus petition the Senate.''
The King sat up quickly, swinging his chair around so he could look directly into Bomilcar's face. "I wondered where the miserable little worm had wriggled off to," he said. "Now I know, don't I? But why him, and not me? Albinus must know I'll pay him more than Massiva ever could."
"Not according to my sources," said Bomilcar uneasily. "I suspect they've made a deal which depends upon Albinus's being awarded Africa Province as his governorship. You're stuck here in Rome; Albinus hies himself off to Africa Province with a neat little army, a quick march across the border to Cirta, and—all hail King Massiva of Numidia! I imagine King Massiva of Numidia will be very willing to pay Albinus pretty much what he asks."
"I've got to get home!" the King cried.
"I know! But how, tell me how?"
"You don't think there's any chance I could sway Albinus? I've still got money on
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