Hannibal's Children Read Online Free PDF

he groaned. But he was intrigued. Yellow plumes in the messenger's helmet meant dispatches from the Senate. Maybe war had broken out somewhere else. Tired as he was, it was an exciting possibility. War was a citizen's work, and war was where advancement was to be found. He already had enough campaigning time to qualify to stand for the office of quaestor, but he'd need several more campaigns before he could hope to be elected aedile, much less praetor.
    Some men of good family pursued their public careers piecemeal: They put in a few years with the legions, then stood for quaestor, did a little more campaigning and stood for aedile, then more military service and a praetorship. Others entered the legions young and did all their required military service, then just took the offices in succession, assuming they could get elected and had the wealth to support the office. Marcus preferred the latter, although he hadn't yet convinced his family that it was the right way for him to proceed.
    "Marcus," his father was fond of growling, "too many men spend their lives soldiering, and when they finally stand for office, they find that they have no friends, no contacts and no experience in government. So they don't get elected and they end up spending their whole lives in the legions."
    "There's nothing dishonorable in that," Marcus pointed out, many times.
    "Honor is a fine thing," his father had said, "but dignitas is better." He referred to the collective honors bestowed upon a public man by the Senate and People of Rome. Among these honors were the elective offices bestowed by the popular assemblies: the Centuriate Assembly, consisting of the citizenry arrayed in their military units regardless of class, which elected consuls, praetors and censors; the Plebeian Assembly, consisting only of that class, which elected the Tribunes of the People and the plebeian aediles; and the Popular Assembly, consisting of all classes arranged by tribe, which elected the curule aediles, the quaestors and the military tribunes.
    "Most professional military men," Marcus had said upon most occasions, "are simply unable to support the expenses of office, unless plunder should bring them wealth. Lately, we've been fighting very poor barbarians. But I should be able to bear the expense when the time comes."
    "Don't be so sure of that," his father had warned. "Without the right friends, public office can be very expensive indeed."
    The argument had never been settled and Marcus did not expect that it would be any time soon. Just now he had more immediate concerns. For instance, what did this messenger portend? Already, he could hear the approaching hoofbeats. He got up, straightened his dingy, heavily used tunic and stepped out of the tent to wait beneath the broad awning. Curious officers were already making their way toward the praetorium. The messenger was pounding up the street, making legionaries and slaves jump from his path, intensely aware of the drama of his own arrival. A few feet from the awning he drew rein smartly, causing his handsome Gallic mount to rear on its hind legs. The instant it settled, he threw himself from the horse and presented his documents.
    "Dispatches from the Senate for Tribune Marcus Cornelius Scipio!" he shouted, as if Marcus were deaf.
    "Smartly done, messenger," Marcus commended. The self-importance of the messengers always annoyed him, but he was willing to allow them their little self-dramatizations, for their duty was one of the most extreme hazard and hardship. They were expected to behave as if mere terrain, weather and enemy action did not exist.
    Marcus took the oilskin-wrapped parcel and stripped off its cover. Within was a document sandwiched between two wooden leaves. On the outside of the leaves were the gilded letters SPQR, the abbreviation for "senatus populusque romanus," the Senate and People of Rome. It was the formula that embodied the Roman state and was placed on official documents, monuments and