Son of Julius Caesar: Rebuilding Rome [Business/Republic building]

"Caesar! Caesar!"

Caesar approached the Rostra to the cheers of the citizens.

The Forum was packed to the brim.

His shield-bearing supporters, Clodius’s followers, and even hundreds of women had gathered in the Forum. Had so many people ever assembled merely to hear a speech?

"It has been far too long since I felt this exhilarated."

Caesar chuckled under his breath.

He adjusted the Civic Crown resting on his head.

The oak-leaf crown was one of Rome’s highest military honors, awarded only to those who had saved a fellow citizen’s life in battle.

But Caesar had another reason for adjusting it so carefully.

He was using it to conceal his steadily receding hairline.

"I didn’t expect you to come, Cornelia," Caesar said, looking at his wife.

Standing behind him, Cornelia wore a faint smile.

"I was worried about Julia, so I followed her out."

"I never imagined she’d pull something like this."

"A wolf cub is still a wolf, whether male or female."

"Still, part of me wished she could remain my sweet little girl forever. I suppose every father feels that way."

Caesar shifted his gaze to a section of the crowd.

Julia was standing with Lucius, deep in conversation.

"I can’t remain idle any longer. It is my turn now."

"Everything depends on you now, Gaius."

"Everything always depends on me. You should know that by now."

"Have you kept some final stratagem in reserve?"

Caesar looked at his wife and replied with his usual playful mischief in his voice.

"I am Caesar, after all. Isn’t that enough?"

After exchanging one last look with his wife, he slowly ascended the Rostra.

Seeing him, the citizens’ cheers grew even louder.

"Caesar! Caesar! Caesar!"

Caesar raised a hand and waited for the chanting to die down.

His eyes found Lucius and Julia in the crowd, and a brief smile crossed his face.

When the Forum finally fell silent, he began to speak.

"Citizens of Rome, fear has cast its shadow over this Forum. But I ask you this," he said. "Are you truly afraid? Must we truly live in such terror of one another?"

***

[I understand full well why you are afraid. Only a few decades ago, this very Forum ran with blood. Sulla, ruling as dictator, held Rome in a grip of terror, and the severed heads of countless men whose names appeared on his proscription lists were displayed on the very Rostra where I now stand. I, too, was commanded to cast aside my wife, with that same blade hanging over my neck. Yet I trust you all remember the answer I gave.]

Crassus watched Caesar as he continued his speech.

"I never expected him to invoke Sulla’s name." he muttered.

When Sulla ruled as dictator, Crassus had been among his most eager supporters.

He had amassed most of his fortune during that period.

Naturally, Caesar’s speech made him uncomfortable.

But Caesar was his friend now.

In Rome, profit could turn yesterday’s enemy into today’s friend. As Crassus pondered this, Caesar continued his speech.

[All Rome is in an uproar over the grain bill recently proposed by Clodius and Curio. Many senators are enraged, calling the bill an act of sedition designed to buy the citizens’ favor and undermine the Republic. Meanwhile, countless citizens are furious, claiming that the Senate ignores the hunger of the plebeians and cares only about protecting the wealth of its members.]

"What on earth is he trying to say?"

Curio bit his nails as he listened.

Until Caesar began speaking, an armed clash had seemed ready to erupt at any moment.

But when the women suddenly marched into the Forum, the atmosphere changed at once.

Everyone gathered there started listening to Caesar’s speech, including Clodius’s thugs.

Curio looked around at the citizens hanging on Caesar’s every word.

"What in the world is happening?"

[Rome has its patricians and its plebeians. As you all know, I was born into an ancient patrician line. But today, I have not come before you to take the side of either patrician or plebeian. For here in Rome, we are all equal citizens, regardless of rank or birth.]

"Equal citizens, eh. Well, anyone can say that."

"But every citizen has a chance to prosper and acquire land of his own, doesn’t he?"

The citizens whispered among themselves.

"Especially these days, quite a few citizens acquire enough wealth to enter the equestrian order."

[Remember! Our great ancestors left their fallen homeland and, after years of wandering, put down roots in the soil of Latium. Since King Romulus founded Rome, we have driven out tyrants with our own hands and established this great Republic.

The Republic was not handed to us. To protect our land, we fought the Etruscans, crossed the rugged mountains of Samnium, and brought distant Carthage and the great kingdoms of the East to their knees.]

Standing in the center of the Forum, Pompey listened to Caesar’s speech in silence.

Pompeia quietly approached his side.

Pompey looked at his daughter, gave a small nod, and returned his gaze to the Rostra.

For decades, he had believed that the legions were the greatest source of power in Rome.

Yet Caesar was moving all Rome with words alone.

[Our ancestors sailed into battle and shed their blood in nameless valleys without any promise of reward. They fought only to protect our sacred land, our families, and this great Republic!]

Brutus frantically jotted shorthand symbols onto a paper.

They were shorthand signs he had recently learned from Cicero’s personal slave, Tiro.

With those symbols, he could take down Caesar’s words almost as quickly as they were spoken.

Brutus could feel it with absolute certainty. This moment would live forever in the annals of Rome.

He turned to a clerk standing beside him and said, "Send someone to the printing press right now. We need this speech printed and circulated throughout Rome by tomorrow morning."

[So I ask you again. Should we truly be afraid? Shall the Romans who crushed Hannibal’s elephants and conquered the world now tremble before the debate over a single law? Must we plunge a dagger into a fellow citizen’s throat merely to decide our future?]

"That damn bastard..."

Clodius muttered, shaking his fist.

"A-Are you alright, sir?"

"We can’t let him keep spewing this nonsense! Stop him, whatever it takes!"

Clodius roared, throwing up his arms in fury.

He finally grasped Caesar’s true intention.

By then, however, it was already too late.

"What are you all doing?! Stop that speech right now!"

"But how, sir?"

Despite Clodius’s shouts, his supporters remained completely motionless, entranced by Caesar’s words.

[Citizens, in the years to come, we will disagree and debate the affairs of state again and again. Such disagreement is not a weakness. It is the very strength of our Republic. Rome has no king who can order the people to obey his every whim.

But we must not settle our differences like beasts. We cannot wield clubs and set fires merely because our fellow citizens disagree with us—such acts can no longer be tolerated in this great Republic!]

"He sure has a way with words. But we aren’t living in Aristotle’s ideal state; we’re in Romulus’s cesspit."

"It was Plato who spoke of the ideal state."

"Whatever, the point is this place is a cesspit."

Iaia shrugged at her assistant’s correction.

"Words alone can’t solve everything."

She looked around the Forum. The atmosphere in the Forum had changed completely within moments.

A strange exhilaration hung in the air. Even she, a non-Roman, could feel her blood stir.

She murmured,

"But perhaps they can solve at least one problem."

[Four hundred years ago, our plebeian ancestors laid down their arms and retreated to the Sacred Mount, refusing to fight as a protest against injustice.

Even in their anger, they did not set Rome ablaze or sever the heads of the patricians. And what came of their restraint and resolve? The office of tribune of the plebs was established, followed by the Twelve Tables—the very pillars of our Republic—and ultimately, patricians and plebeians joined their families and became one Roman people.]

As everyone in the Forum held their breath, Caesar continued.

[We have the power to solve our problems with reason, not swords. When the right hand cuts off the left, no part of the body has won. The whole body has been maimed. We are one body, and every part must work together.]

As the speech continued, Julia gazed at her father.

She was not alone. Countless other women watched Caesar with the same rapt attention.

[Therefore, in my capacity as consul of the Republic, I, Gaius Julius Caesar, place this proposal before the citizens of Rome and the Senate! Let us convene a special assembly two days from now and put this grain law to a vote! Let the future of Rome be decided solely by the ballots of her citizens! If anyone attempts to disrupt this sacred vote through violence, they will have to go through me first!

I ask you once more—and for the final time: Are you truly afraid? Must we truly fear one another?]

"No!" the crowd roared.

[E pluribus unum. Out of many, one. We Romans are one, regardless of birth, wealth, or origin! Before me stand only citizens of Rome!]

As deafening cheers filled the Forum, very few noticed Clodius hastily fleeing.

***

I stood there in a daze for a moment, taking in the spectacle of the Forum.

The crowd erupted in celebration, and a tidal wave of cheers and applause washed over Father.

"E pluribus unum."

I muttered. I had slipped the phrase into the speech I hastily drafted for Father.

This Latin phrase would one day become one of the best-known mottos of the United States. It would even appear on the Great Seal as a symbol of union.

But it was an expression that perfectly suited the Roman Republic of this era, too.

After all, Rome had always grown by extending citizenship to foreigners and conquered peoples.

The same went for the conflict between the plebeians and the patricians.

The two sides clashed constantly, yet whenever Rome was in danger, they united against the common enemy.

Through countless disputes and compromises, they had reformed old customs and forged new laws.

"After that speech, it will be difficult for either side to resort to violence." Pompeia said, stepping up beside me. She gave my arm a light nudge. "That was a brilliant move, Lucius. I never imagined a single speech could turn the situation around like this."

"It would never have worked if anyone other than Father had delivered it."

A faint smile crossed my face.

Even at this very moment, Father was still sweating as he waved to the citizens.

He looked just like a triumphant general. Writing the speech was one thing. Making thousands believe it was another.

His tone. His gestures. His instinct for pausing at precisely the right moment.

Cicero might have delivered the speech with greater flourish.

But right here, right now, Father was the only man who could make thousands of citizens feel like one people.

"Clodius will no longer find it easy to incite his supporters. The bill is going before the popular assembly, exactly as Clodius’s supporters demanded." I continued. "On the flip side, the Senate won’t be able to call for a violent crackdown either. If they were to attempt anything like that now..."

"They’d look like tyrants bent on massacring their own citizens," Pompeia finished.

She let out a sigh of relief.

"I don’t know how the assembly will vote, but at least there won’t be bloodshed in the streets."

"It’s too early to relax. To ensure the assembly proceeds without violence, we need one more measure."

"What do you mean, another measure?"

"We have the Senate pass the Final Decree."

"But wasn’t the whole point of today’s speech to prevent the Senate from invoking the Final Decree?" Pompeia asked, frowning. "If the Final Decree were invoked, wouldn’t Clodius’s supporters have to be executed?"

"The Final Decree of the Senate is merely a declaration that grants magistrates the authority to take whatever measures are necessary to defend the Republic." I said with a smirk.

And therein lay the key.

How that authority was used would be entirely up to Father.

In every previous case, the magistrates had chosen to use the decree as justification for massacring their opponents.

But no law required them to do so.

Especially not in an atmosphere like this.

"As consul, Father has a duty to oversee this assembly and ensure it proceeds in an orderly fashion. Isn’t that right?" I asked. "If so, the Senate should take the necessary steps to support him."

Back at the Curia, the Senate was still desperate to invoke the Final Decree. They wanted to slaughter the rioters and pin the blame on Father.

But what about now?

Would they still demand the decree—or would they choke on their own words?

I was dying to find out.

"Would you like to come with me to the Curia? We should let them pass the decree they so desperately want."

Only this time, we would decide who wielded the sword.