#the tribunate

LIVE

Chapter 11: The Tribunate

It was mid-morning when Cicero, trailed by Quintus and I, marched down to the forum. Cicero had sent his usual escort of clients home, so it felt oddly unsettling to make the journey on our own.

The Tribunate of the Plebs, which consisted of ten tribunes of plebeian birth, had for generations been a powerful body designed to preside over the people’s assembly and check the power of the Senate and its leaders by exercising its power of veto over the laws and actions of Rome’s senior magistrates. Yet, nearly 20 years before, the dictator Lucius Cornelius Sulla, fearing the power of the tribunes to veto his agenda, had deprived the tribunate of a majority of its powers.

Today, election as a Tribune of the Plebs was considered a dead-end position, politically, and avoided by most men of any ambition. Which is why, as Cicero climbed the steps of the Basillica Porcia, the seat of the tribunate, he encountered few other petitioners.

Inside, they found the ten tribunes sitting, per tradition, on a long wooden bench behind a scarlet-draped railing.

“Cicero!” one called, standing. “I was wondering when you’d show up here!”

Turning to the speaker, Cicero was surprised to see Marcus Lollius Palicanus, a plebeian from Picenum. Palicanus was well known to be a creature of the Roman general Gnaeus Pompeius – or Pompey the Great, as he now called himself.

“Marcus Lollius,” Cicero said, respectfully as Palicanus approached. “I had heard you were standing for Tribune, but honestly was surprised by your decision.”

“Many were, Cicero, but all will be made clear soon enough,” Palicanus replied, nodding. “Walk with me, and we can talk about your friend Sosethius.”

“So you know why we have come?” Cicero said as Palicanus led him outside, Quintus and I following at a respectable distance. “I trust you are open to helping us?”

“By imposing my ius intercessionis and offering Sosethius my protection as tribune?” Palicanus inquired. “Of course, my friend. But then, I’m sure you understand that I might wish something in return.”

Cicero swallowed. He’d known this course of action might demand concessions on his part.

“Yes, yes,” Cicero replied, nodding. “And what is your price, Marcus Lollius?”

“Well, it’s not exactly my price, but the price of my mentor, Pompey the Great,” Palicanus said, leading my master toward the well of the comitia – the expansive central plaza of the forum, where the People’s Assembly met regularly.

“As you know, Pompey is on his way back to Rome from his splendid victory at Osca,“ Palicanus continued. "He has only two requests for the senate: a triumph for his victory and to stand for consul in the upcoming election.”

Cicero stopped and turned to Palicanus, trying to hide his shock. Both demands went against everything he believed as a Roman. A triumph was forbidden for all but victors against foreign enemies – and since Pompey had been fighting rebels under the banner of Quintus Sertorius, he did not qualify. Then, even more seriously, Pompey could not legally stand for consul. The minimum age for a consul was 42, while Pompey had just turned 36.

“You realize that both of these honors are outside my ability to bestow,” Cicero said, carefully.

“Indeed, but the general knows that your voice has become highly valued in the senate – at least among its junior and plebeian members,” Palicanus said. “Your support for these measures could be invaluable.”

Cicero considered his answer carefully, but knew that he had little choice but to agree. He did not wish to become beholden to Pompey the Great – or any man, for that matter – but understood that all his hopes for a political career now rested on the outcome of his prosecution of Gaius Verres.