In the Curia, senators debate another issue Gallienus entrusted to their sacred body.
We must evacuate Dacia!!!
The Senate has been arguing for hours on the item of Dacia. The command was clear: find a way to defend the periphery and secure Dacian mines or lose everything.
One senator, Maximus Dexter, says, "Dacia is already dead weight. The Carpi and Goths raid constantly; the mines do not justify the cost."
The Curia whispers, yells, and argues, but no consensus forms.
We cannot lose Dacia; paper has united Italia, but paper costs gold.
But if we hold Dacia, it may cost more gold than it is worth.
Nay, we must hold it lest Gallienus fall to another barracks emperor. One who will be far less willing to give us responsibility.
Marius says, "We can't send legions to defend it." Postumus and his Gallic Empire fray control of Gaul, Hispania, and Britannia.
Marcus Cassiunius Latinius Postumus was the so-called emperor of the Gallic Empire. Declared emperor by his troops in 260 AD, he did not march on Rome. Rather, he made his own breakaway empire. He was one of the more effective rulers of his time.
The consul says, "Senators, Emperor Gallienus asked for a solution on Dacia."
Sextus says, "Well, why not just negotiate with the barbarians?" We don't have legions to send, and Odenathus can't be everywhere.
One senator, a North African man tanned by the sun, rises with a daring proposal.
"Conscript fathers, we say Odenathus cannot be everywhere; to make more would invite pretenders." The Senate nods; a few "yeses" are thrown about.
The North African one, Marcus Magon, a man of Carthaginian descent, has already experienced frontier life. He knows who really rules at the border. He who lives and keeps you living.
Mago clears his throat. "My point is that when Rome sends governors or legates to rule distant lands, who do they depend on? Those with good blood or those who rule?"
Quintus interrupts, "We all know of local elites serving our governors. What good does that do us?"
Mago replies calmly. "Let us make the local Dacians partners in their own defense."
The Curia explodes.
You dare invite barbarians to rule.
What if they secede? What if they join the barbarians raiding our lands?
Mago raises a hand. "Would you rather have Romans die in the periphery? I do not mean to make the Dacians rulers; I want to incentivize them to guard the lands we both depend on.
Then a young senator who has read too many scrolls by historians who never left Italy jumps up and says, "We use the Olympian cities of Dacia."
An actual Dacian senator stares because he has never seen an Olympian city in his life.
What are you talking about? I have lived my entire life in Dacia, and I have never seen a city with Mars, Juno, or Jupiter.
The young senator, one Titus of the old gens Claudia, says, "I've read scrolls by the renowned historian Atticus that..."
Mago clarifies, "That man hasn't left his villa or Italy once; what would he know of Dacia?
Titus somewhat downtrodden mutters. "Then why does Trajan's column have so many mountains like Olympus?
Quintus snaps, "That is a propaganda monument, a work of art, not a working report on Dacia."
The Curia laughs a bit at that one. Until Titus drops a proverbial boulder.
Then why are they so heavily featured? Were the mountains not Trajan's greatest enemy? Why do we moan about raids when Romans could live safely in sky cities?
Silence. A visible silence engulfs the Senate. Most young senators from the old patrician families don't make useful contributions. That, however, changes the entire strategic realignment of the Dacian problem.
Maximus Dexter speaks up. We could encourage the legions to set up forts or refuge in the hills.
More senators weigh in.
It's not like the farms are the highest priority.
Hills are easier to defend.
They could still mine the gold and silver we need for currency reform.
Honorius says, "I have a plan."
Vettius remarks, "Where did you steal this one from, compiling suggestions in that little scroll of yours?"
Sextus snaps. "You, not one month ago, tried to take credit for my format."
The Senate begins to devolve into petty arguments.
The presiding magistrate sighs and prepares to maintain order.
Every one shut the hell up!!!
. . .
Honorius coughs and says, "Well, if that is all, I would like to continue my proposal."
He takes a look around for any more hecklers; thankfully, the senators are very interested in looking like statues.
I propose we have Dacians, all of them given equal citizenship and status to our colonists. I propose we have strongholds built in the old Dacian mountain settlements. Finally, I propose a man of Dacian descent, one who knows the hills, be appointed legate of the fifth Macedonia.
The Senate is quiet.
The presiding magistrate says, "Those of you who support this motion, go over to that side; those of you who are of any other opinion, stay on this side."
The scene becomes a blur of wool, sandals, and movement. The Discessio is possibly the most theatrical voting process in history. Instead of raising hands, senators would physically walk to one side or the other.
Usually the physical appearance of one side was enough to make a decision. Today is no exception.
The magistrate proclaims, "This side appears to be the majority. The proposal of Honorius will be brought to Emperor Gallienus.
The magistrate declares "Intermissio," and the Senate disperses. The magistrate stays behind as a tribune of the plebs walks forward and sits next to the man.
"So we still have some decorum." The magistrate sighs deeply and says, "I know it used to be that elder statesmen would speak first in turn; now everyone speaks."
Both men ruminate on their current state. Rome has long since been ruled by the sword, a whirlwind of civil war and military emperors.
The tribune jokes, "Septimius was right; we were too slow in these times of crisis."
The magistrate says, "I know, I know." I allow the indiscretion because, for reasons yet unknown to me, Gallienus and his Agrippa have given us queries, not decrees. He gives us a voice, but what does that mean? Are we his advisors? Is this some test of loyalty? Why involve us at all? He has Odenathus.
The tribune chuckles, "Whatever the case, these new meetings are certainly entertaining." It used to be you boys all took turns, oldest to youngest; now your bunch is desperate to take advantage of Gallienus.
The magistrate bristles at that word. "We are not taking advantage; we are being useful for once. So what if I allow a break in tradition and decorum? Those things died the moment Cicero lost his head. The moment that damn pin went through his tongue.
The tribune looks at the magistrate. "Forgive me, but I don't know that specific tale."
The magistrate snorts and says, "Well, Mark Antony, the first warlord who ruled Rome—well, the first incompetent warlord. " He hated Cicero, so he had the man's severed head displayed at a dinner party.
The story goes that Fulvia, the man's wife, took her hairpin and drove it into Cicero's tongue.
The tribune bemusedly replies, "You're mixing stories there." Mark Antony had Cicero's head displayed to the Senate. The Pin incident was about some poor sod named Eros who spoke well but was silenced by Fulvia at a dinner party.
The magistrate says, "The point is that the moment men like Antony rose to power, it made our power ceremonial at best." The story I was raised with had a very clear message. The moment that pin went through Cicero's tongue, that was the death of meaningful public discourse.
The Senate is quiet, but the implication lies there, flat, hard, and undeniable. Since the rise of the emperors, the Senate was a useless function, and power came from the blade, not the pen.
The tribune says, "Well, what does that mean for dear Gallienus?" Is he putting away the blade? Are we to expect the rebirth of the Res Publica?
The magistrate looks out to the north and says, "Whatever Gallienus is doing, it will either save the empire or ensure it falls.