The Seven Hills (32 page)

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 tat
tooed 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 Nor
banus 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 man
aged 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 procon
sular power, and now we must render him proconsular hon
ors. 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 mis
calculation, 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 pe
culiar 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 identi
fied 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 them
selves 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 accomplish
ments. No, he had won them more subtly, using a great na
tional 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 uni
form, 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.