Chapter 46: The Proscription List
The morning after the riot dawned on a city that was bruised, sullen, and quiet. The bloody suppression in the palace courtyard had broken the fever of the mob, replacing their righteous anger with a simmering, fearful resentment. Alex had won the physical battle for his palace, but as he looked out from his window at the silent, watchful city, he knew he was on the verge of losing the larger war for its soul. The famine was the disease, but the whispers of the senators were the poison that directed the patient's rage. He could not cure Rome while its own leaders were actively working to kill it.
His experience with the mob had hardened him, crystallizing a cold, hard truth in his mind: to save the empire, he first had to break its fever. He had to cut the cancer out with a hot knife.
He convened his council in his study. The atmosphere was grim, the elation from their victory over the coup replaced by the grim reality of the city's desperation. Maximus stood like a stone sentinel, his face set in hard lines of martial resolve. Rufus looked weary, the weight of the city's suffering etched on his aged face. Perennis was a coiled spring of nervous energy, his eyes darting, sensing a shift in the political winds. And Sabina watched Alex with a sharp, analytical curiosity, trying to gauge the mind of the man who had just ordered Roman soldiers to charge Roman citizens.
Alex didn't waste time with pleasantries. He unrolled a large map of Italy on his desk, its surface showing the network of roads leading from Rome into the countryside of Latium and Campania.
"Senator Metellus and his allies have fled the city," Alex began, his voice devoid of emotion. He tapped the map. "They have retreated to their country estates, to wait out the storm, to continue their plotting from the comfort of their marble villas while Rome starves."
"Then we will have them watched," Rufus said immediately. "We will have the Speculatores monitor their correspondence."
Alex shook his head. "Watching is no longer sufficient. They have abandoned their posts in a time of supreme crisis. They have abandoned the Senate and the people of Rome. By law and tradition, this is an act of treason." His gaze swept across the faces of his council. "We will not hunt them like assassins in the night. We will not stoop to their level of back-alley plotting. We will act as the state, with the full force and authority of the state. We will declare them outlaws."
He let the words settle. "I am issuing proscription lists."
A stunned silence fell over the room. The term was ancient, terrifying, and loaded with the bloody history of the Republic's violent death throes. Proscriptions. It was the tool of the dictator Sulla, of Marius, of the Second Triumvirate. It was a legal mechanism to declare a man an enemy of the state, instantly stripping him of his property, his citizenship, and his right to life. It was a license to kill, a bounty placed on a man's head, sanctioned by the highest authority.
Senator Rufus was the first to find his voice, and it was filled with horror. "Caesar, no!" he gasped, his face ashen. "You cannot be serious. Proscriptions? That is the tool of butchers and tyrants! It is a vile practice that led to bloody purges that stained our city for generations! It is an instrument of chaos and terror, not of law! This... this will stain your legacy forever. It is a step from which there is no return."