The old families had the prestige of long tenure in the Senate, but the new families were supreme in the popular assemblies where most of the work of Rome got done. And greatest of the new families were the Norbani.
He went into the great warehouse he had commandeered as his headquarters. Here his secretaries copied out his orders, his quaestors kept accounts, his officers rendered their reports. At one end of the huge room a crew of draftsmen worked at a crucial task. Norbanus had ordered maps drawn: maps of the whole littoral touched by the great Middle Sea. He wanted careful depictions of every port, every town, every river, with distances noted and resources listed. He knew how frustrating it was for a general to be lost, and how much easier it was to make plans if he knew what lay before him.
Greek skippers knew every foot of that coastline intimately, and he paid them well to yield their secrets. Titus Norbanus plundered mercilessly, but he did not value wealth for its own sake. Gold was just something with which to buy the important things. With gold he subverted foreign rulers. With gold he enriched his men and secured their loyalty to himself. He could buy the secrets of Greek traders and the services of spies. He could afford to spend lavishly because with these things at his disposal he could seize all the wealth in the world. Gold was good. Power was better.
He went to the table and called for a particular map. It depicted the coast of southern Gaul and Spain all the way to the Pillars of Hercules. This was where the Carthaginian, Mastanabal, had advanced and then retreated. Another showed the North African coast from the southern pillar all the way to Carthage. He had been studying these maps with intensity for some time, memorizing their every feature. He had plans for those particular stretches of coast.
Back outside, he listened to the sound of hammering from the shipyards and fretted once again, trying by sheer will to hurry the process. His expanded fleet had to be ready to sail by the next waxing moon. Then he would ride the sea to his destiny.
Queen Teuta sat beneath the shade of the awning stretched before her great tent. She had permanent quarters in the enormous palace of the shofet, but she could not abide stone walls and solid ceilings for long. After a few days they seemed to press in upon her and she had to go back to her tent. Always, she felt most at home beneath the limitless sky, where dwelt the spirits of her nomad ancestors.
She was bored and eager for action. The army was strong enough, the transport fleet almost completely rebuilt. There was nothing to be gained by further waiting. She wanted to urge Hamilcar to action, but she knew better. She had planted the seeds of her own plans, and now they had to reach fruition in his mind as if they had been his own. Too much pressure from her would ruin it.
"My queen, the shofet comes," said one of her guards.
"I hope he's made up his mind," she muttered.
Hamilcar arrived amid a suite of officers and an honor guard of a hundred Spanish horsemen. Teuta rose to greet him and he dismounted and took her hands.
"Queen Teuta," he said, "I have given orders. The army will begin its march on the morning after tomorrow. I will want you in the vanguard with me when we move west."
"West?" she said, marveling as if it were not her own plan to begin with. "We go to the Pillars and across the strait to Spain? It is a bold plan. I know it is one of several we discussed, but I considered it the most unlikely."
"I know," he said, "but for that very reason it is the last one the Romans will suspect. They think to lure me to Sicily. That island is a fought-over carcass now, and all its strong points are already in their hands. My army would starve while theirs rested behind strong walls. No, better to take Hannibal's old route, but with my navy accompanying us just offshore as we march."
She pretended doubt. "But the Romans are bold as well. They may cross from Sicily and lay siege to Carthage itself."
He shrugged. "The walls of Carthage are the strongest in the world. Only the subject people would suffer, and it's time they repaid Carthage for all they have gained from us. If the Romans come, they will pull back to Italy as soon as they know their precious seven hills are menaced."
"Then let us go to Spain, Your Majesty," she said, her tattooed face twisting into a smile.
"Consuls and senators of Rome," Gabinius announced, "our wandering general is back, with his army and a baggage train that sounds as if it is the size of a small nation."
The news had come from Brundisium days ago that Norbanus had landed and that he had with him a huge fleet. Just unloading it all had taken several days, and only then had the army made its way toward the Seven Hills.
Now, from outside the curia, the Senate could hear the wild cheering of the citizenry as they flocked to the walls to see this prodigy.
The Consul Hermanicus stood. "I propose that we vote days of thanksgiving to the gods for this happy event."
"Why?" demanded his colleague. "Because the boy managed to get home alive and didn't lose most of his army doing it?"
A senator stood. "You are just jealous that a new family general has so gloriously won a name for himself!" The house erupted into the customary squabble, which lasted until Gabinius managed to calm them.
"Senators, we have a greater question before us: Are we to go out and meet Norbanus as he desires, or do we demand that he report here to us?"
Things subsided into a low mutter, for this was a thorny question. Norbanus did not want to cross the pomerium, the ancient boundary of the city marked out by Romulus with his plow. By custom, to do so would mean laying down his imperium, becoming an ordinary citizen. Many argued that he had never been properly invested with imperium in the first place. He was not an official general, could not petition the Senate for a triumph and was duty-bound as an ordinary Roman officer to come to the Senate on foot and render his report. The debate had raged since word of his arrival in Italy.
The Consul Hermanicus stood. "Senators, we may plead to Jupiter himself for a decision, but in the end we must face reality. There is no precedent for the things that have happened since we left Noricum to retake our homeland. The extraordinary command that we gave to the younger Titus Norbanus is one of those things. We allowed him proconsular power, and now we must render him proconsular honors. He is at the head of a large army made up of men who by now adore him. He has made them rich and has gotten very few of them killed in the process. It would be ill-advised of us to alienate such men."
Gabinius stood. "I agree with our consul. It pains me to see the Senate of Rome humble itself before a young man who has yet to win a major battle or add a foot of territory to Rome's empire, yet it is expedient. If there has been a miscalculation, it was made here when we bestowed upon him a command without his having first held the requisite offices. We will make many more such decisions in the future, and then as now we will have to live with the consequences. He has done something extraordinary, so let's go out and greet this young Alexander."
There was some protest, but in the end the Senate of Rome, at least what was available of it with so many members away with the legions, set out for the encampment upon the Field of Mars, the traditional drill and exercise ground northwest of the city. Here the legions of Norbanus had set up their tents, and the place swarmed with citizens, slaves and foreigners who had poured from the city to greet the returning heroes. It was a short walk from the Senate house out the Fontinalis Gate and along the Clivus Argentarius to the great field.
At the Senate's approach, the trumpets sounded and the legions drew up as if for inspection. As the senators passed the soldiers, they examined them. Some senators were amused, others appalled.
"Did you ever see such a pack of bandits?" asked one.