“If we include all the peoples of the world in our Empire,” Tacitus countered, “then we must also include their gods. I would never deny that, for I think that there is more honor, more purity of morals, and more of what we would call piety in the hall of any German chieftain than in most of the mansions of Rome. There is no harm in that, so long as the rituals that preserve the State are given first priority.”
“That seems to be what the deified Augustus had in mind when he allowed his cult to spread through the Empire,” Malleus replied. There was a short silence.
“Dominus et Deus…” someone said softly, and Gaius remembered hearing that was how the Emperor liked to be addressed these days. “He goes too far! Will we return to the days when Caligula trotted out his favorite horse for everyone to worship?”
Gaius looked around and realized in some surprise that the man who had spoken was Flavius Clemens, some kind of cousin of the Emperor.
“Pieta——s is the essence of reverence and obligation between men and the gods, not adulation for a mortal!” Senecio exclaimed. “Even Augustus insisted that ‘Roma’ be coupled with his name. We do not worship the man, but his genius, the god within him. To believe that a mere human has the wisdom and power to govern an Empire like this one would be impiety indeed.”
“Well, in the Provinces the cult works as a force for unity,” Gaius observed brightly in the even more uncomfortable silence that followed. “When nobody knows what the Emperor is like personally, all they can do is to worship the idea of a Divine Ruler. Whatever their personal religion, everyone can come together to burn incense to the Emperor.”
“Everyone except the Christians,” someone observed, and, except for Flavius Clemens, they all laughed.
“Well, there’s no need to persecute them and make more martyrs,” Tacitus pointed out. “Their appeal is mostly to slaves and women. And they have so many factions, they can be depended upon to destroy each other if we only leave them alone!”
Sweets and cheese were served then, and the conversation passed to other things. These were all civilized men, after all, not likely to be swayed by religious enthusiasm. But Gaius could not help wondering if piety, duty, and mutual obligation were enough to nourish the human soul. Perhaps people were driven to cults such as that of Isis or the Christos by the aridity of the State religion, or perhaps the bloody rituals of the Coliseum had become the real religion of Rome.
The other thing he was beginning to realize was that among the thinking men of the city—the men whose company he was increasingly coming to value—there was a growing opposition to the Emperor. These connections would not bring him the patronage he needed to advance in his career. If it came to a choice between ambition and honor, which would he choose?
Shortly after Gaius’s arrival, the Imperial Procurator’s staff of busy freedmen went to work to digest the content of the report from Licinius that he had carried and analyze its implications for the Emperor. Yet the city fathers retained enough authority so that this information must be delivered to them eventually, and Gaius discovered that the influence of his new friends was sufficient to win him an invitation to address the Senate and meet the Emperor afterward.
On the morning he was to appear, Gaius had himself shaved with special care—though he sometimes thought that the bearded Ardanos and Bendeigid were less barbarian than he was himself, he did not think he could explain that to the assembled conscript fathers.
It was very early when he arrived at the Senate and was given a seat beneath a statue of the deified Augustus, who stood on his pedestal looking as cold and cross as Gaius felt. The senators entered by ones and twos, talking softly, followed by the secretaries with their piles of wax tablets, ready to record the debates and decisions of the day. This, reflected Gaius, was where the lords of the world decided the fates of nations. On this marble floor they had debated the defense against Hannibal and the invasion of Britannia. The river of time flowed strongly in this chamber; in comparison, even the pride of the Caesars was only a ripple on the stream.