THE KEY PLAYERS, 69–64

The next period of Pompey’s career, during which he undertook the so-called ‘extraordinary commands’, established him as princeps, the leading citizen, whose military achievements, wealth and resultant auctoritas, prestige and influence eclipsed those of his closest rivals. The contemporary sources for this period are more numerous and include Cicero’s letters and speeches. After their eventful consulship of 70 neither Pompey nor Crassus took

proconsular office and both remained in Rome. Crassus had his business empire and political interests to tend and Pompey had his eye on another command. Lucullus was still fighting Mithridates and the unpopular war was dragging on. At some point he would be replaced, and Pompey was keen to maintain a high profile, positioning himself as a front runner. The activities of the pirates in the Mediterranean were also causing problems which required more immediate attention and could provide another opportunity. The Senate still contained a majority of optimates but their influence had been challenged by recent events. As well as the restoration of the full powers of the tribunes and the lex Aurelia which had overturned the Sullan jury system, sixty-four senators had been expelled in 70. The censors had also completed the enfranchisement of all remaining Italian citizens and there were many new voters without identifiable links to patrons and consequently much harder to influence during elections. Although the Senate had little choice when they allowed Pompey to

breach the cursus honorum and assume consular power in 70, they had not done so reluctantly or because they felt threatened; he had served them well, defending their interests through the 70s, and to expect him to take any office less than the consulate would have been unrealistic. By the early 60s, however, attitudes to Pompey had changed. The optimates seemed ready to take measures to prevent him further increasing his political influence and popularity within the city. The magistrates elected during the two years after Pompey’s consulship were predominantly optimate, and

there was a noticeable increase in the level of bribery in the elections, which could suggest a deliberate attempt was being made to edge Pompey’s supporters out. When a tribune favourable to Pompey, Cornelius, introduced a bribery law in 67, he faced bitter and immediate opposition from the optimates, led by Gaius Piso; possibly Cornelius and Pompey had called their bluff. If the optimate intention had been to rein him in, the events of 67 show very clearly that opposition from within the Senate was no longer adequate to clip Pompey’s wings. The restoration of the full powers of the tribunes in 70 was now to pay

dividends, as it was a tribune, Aulus Gabinius, who would launch Pompey into the next stage of his unconventional career. In 67 Gabinius accused Lucullus, who now led a mutinous, exhausted and dispirited army, of deliberately prolonging the war against Mithridates for his own financial gain. The business interests of the equites in the region had been badly affected by the protracted fighting and they were particularly angry about Lucullus’s activities in Asia, which had curtailed the extortionate moneylending of many publicani. His enemies had already removed Asia from Lucullus’ provincial command in 69 and, although he was not recalled at this point, Cilicia was also taken from Lucullus and reassigned to Marcius Rex. In late 68 the army suffered a series of defeats throughout Pontus, where the population were resisting all attempts to establish Roman rule, and Lucullus was forced to withdraw from Armenia at the end of 67. Gabinius used this opportunity to place Bithynia and Pontus in the hands of Glabrio, consul of 67. These were bitter blows for Lucullus, and his troops, already recalcitrant, were now even less inclined to follow him. This was the first time that a tribune had interfered in the appointment of commanders, traditionally the preserve of the Senate, since the days of Marius, and Gabinius’ measures were greatly resented by the optimates. One of the most pressing problems in the early 60s was piracy, which

was now endemic in the Mediterranean. There were about 100 pirate ships, moored in strongholds along the Cilician coast and organised in separate squadrons but able to operate collectively when necessary. Plutarch (Pompey 24) writes of ‘sturdy crews, skilful pilots, and light and speedy ships’, adding that they also had ‘gilded sails, and purpled awnings, and silvered oars’. He suggests that piracy had become a career option for ‘men whose wealth gave them power, and those whose lineage was illustrious, and those who laid claim to superior intelligence’, who saw rich pickings and even ‘a certain reputation and distinction’ in the profession. Rome was heavily dependent on imports, and Cowell (1973: 117) suggests that up to 2,000 Roman ships were engaged in the grain trade alone, usually manned by Greeks and Syrians. The larger ships were 200-300 tons and seaworthy but, because they did not have compasses, sailed in sight of land, hugging coasts and islands, dependent on visibility and clear skies to navigate by the stars

at night. The pirates’ traditional tactic had been to seize ships, but by the 70s they were also attacking cities, plundering ‘places of refuge and sanctuaries hitherto inviolate’, such as the temple of Asclepius at Epidaurus, and ‘even going up from the sea along their roads and plundering there, and sacking the neighbouring villas’ (Plutarch ibid.) The pirates had diversified into the extremely lucrative pursuit of

kidnapping for ransom, and one of their most famous victims was Caesar. In 75 he had decided to travel to Rhodes to study oratory with Apollonius Molon, ‘the most eminent teacher of oratory of that time’, according to Suetonius (4). Close to the island of Pharmacussa, Caesar was captured by pirates who demanded a ransom of twenty talents. Plutarch (Caesar 2) writes that Caesar laughed at this sum and suggested they were shortchanging themselves, as he was worth far more and proposed fifty talents as more realistic for a person of his quality. While his companions left to raise the money, Caesar remained with the pirates and greatly entertained them by reading aloud his poems and speeches and calling them ‘illiterate barbarians’ if they did not appreciate his work and, ‘laughingly’ insisting he would have them all executed. This good humour led his captors to believe he possibly had ‘a certain simplicity’, and they were amused and unthreatened. After a few days Caesar’s companions returned, paid the ransom and he was released. Caesar immediately travelled to Miletus, manned some ships and sailed back to apprehend his captors, who were placed in prison in Pergamum. As he had no authority to deal with them Caesar approached Marcus Iuncus, the Governor of Asia, but Marcus was preoccupied with the recent death of Nicomedes of Bithynia and took no decisive action, so Caesar returned to Pergamum and had the pirates crucified on his own authority. Suetonius (4) writes that Caesar had no option, as he had sworn to do so in their presence, although he did make sure each man’s throat was ‘mercifully’ cut before crucifixion. Mithridates saw the pirates as useful allies in his war against Rome, and

their activities throughout the Mediterranean escalated after he invaded Bithynia in 73 (see below). Plutarch (Pompey 24) writes of their ‘confidence and boldness during the Mithridatic war’, and the Romans were scandalised by stories of captives who would be humiliated and then made to ‘walk the plank’. Two praetors had been captured in 68 and another high-profile victim was the daughter of Marcus Antonius, who had made an unsuccessful early attempt to root out piracy in 102 when he was governor of Cilicia. The Sullan Senate had dispatched his son of the same name in 74, but he had been defeated at sea; an overland attack on the pirate strongholds was out of the question, as Cilicia was mountainous and contained hostile tribesmen. When Ostia was raided and the grain supply to Rome was jeopardised in 67, it was clear that action must be taken immediately. The activities of the pirates led to food shortages, high prices and business losses which affected the lives of the people in Rome directly in a way that

other foreign policy did not, and the Senate had failed to deal with the issue over two generations. Gabinius seized the initiative and proposed that an ex-consul be given

proconsular imperium to tackle piracy. His power was to last for three years, extend over the entire Mediterranean and fifty miles inland, and be equal to that of any proconsul in a province. He was to be assigned fifteen military legates of his own choice, each with praetorian imperium which would allow them to operate at a distance although under a central overall command. The lex Gabinia did not mention Pompey by name but it was very clear that he was the choice of Gabinius and also the people. The outcry in the Senate against the proposal was led by Catulus and Hortensius, and probably only Julius Caesar spoke in favour, ‘not because he cared in the least for Pompey, but because from the outset he sought to ingratiate himself with the people and win their support’, according to Plutarch (Pompey 25), who always writes cynically of Caesar’s motives. His own experience at the hands of pirates must also have encouraged Caesar to speak out. The optimates were angry that a tribune was interfering in another command, but many were more concerned that, although Pompey was qualified for such a position, ‘such unlimited and absolute power, while it was beyond the reach of envy, was yet a thing to be feared’ (ibid.). Although the Senate was determined to prevent the passage of the lex

Gabinia, it was very popular with the equites and the people, and when it seemed likely that the senators would physically attack Gabinius, the mob seized the consul Gaius Piso and threatened his life. Two tribunes were persuaded to veto the Bill but were forced to back down in a scene reminiscent of the days of Tiberius Gracchus. Throughout the debate Pompey held back, although it was clearly a job that he coveted. His military skills were always put to best use in large-scale operations and there was no obvious alternative candidate. He protested his reluctance before the people, but some carefully rehearsed cajolery by Gabinius reminded those present of Pompey’s experience and ability. Dio writes (36.31) that Catulus, now princeps senatus, was far from convinced. He warmly praised Pompey’s undoubted skills but argued that it was dangerous to grant ‘to any one man so many positions of command one after another’, adding that it was ‘not forbidden by the laws but had been found by experience to be most perilous’. Catulus reminded the Senate of the recent excesses of Marius and Sulla and suggested that human nature, if indulged with continuous power, could find itself unwilling ‘to abide by ancestral customs’. Rome had a tried and tested system of sending lawfully elected magistrates to deal with crises abroad, and Catulus also questioned the wisdom of giving ‘some strange and hitherto unheard-of command to a private individual [privatus]’. This argument should be seen as rather disingenuous, as all promagistrates were technically privati who acted as magistrates when they held promagisterial office. The difference in Pompey’s case was the extent of the power

now being proposed, and this lay behind Catulus’s objections. He was also concerned about the practicalities of managing such a mammoth military operation, but even this objection was shouted down by the people who insisted that Catulus could replace Pompey if he was killed during the campaign. Pompey withdrew from Rome and returned at dead of night once it was

clear that the opposition had failed and the lex Gabinia had passed. It is said that the price of grain dropped immediately after Pompey’s appointment, so confident were the people of his success, and some of the resulting popularity must have rubbed off on Caesar, who had demonstrated such public support. The lex Gabinia was followed by another law which assigned Pompey 500 ships, 120,000 men, 5,000 cavalry, twenty-four legates, the number now increased from the original fifteen, and two military quaestors – unprecedented resources which far exceeded those granted by the Senate to Marcus Antonius in 74. The sources disagree on the nature and extent of Pompey’s imperium. Tacitus (Ann. 15.25) claims it was greater than that of any other proconsul and Plutarch (Pompey 25) writes that Pompey had ‘an out-and-out monarchy and irresponsible power over all men’, but it seems likely that it was an equal power, imperium aequum not imperium maius, as claimed by Velleius (2.31), our earliest source. Seager discusses the men chosen by Pompey as legates, concluding that this was his first opportunity to ‘repay old debts and attempt to create new obligations’ (2002: 46). Some had been of recent service to Pompey such as the censors of 70, Gellius Publicola and Lentulus Clodianus, but he chose few of his closest military associates. In their place were men from the heart of the political establishment such as Metellus Nepos, Lentulus Marcellinus, consul in 56, Pupius Piso, consul in 61, and others such as the scholar Varro and Sisenna, a historian. It must surely be a sign of Pompey’s own confidence in his plan that he chose ‘to seize the chance of establishing distinguished connections’ (Pompey 47) rather than appointing the most skilled commanders for the task. Thirteen of his legates came from consular families and ten were patricians. Pompey was attempting to mitigate the unpopularity of the tribune’s law by involving members of the ruling elite fully in the campaign, thus ensuring he could share the credit for any success with the Senate. Pompey divided the Mediterranean into thirteen areas and first targeted

the western Mediterranean and Sicily, Africa and Sardinia, the areas which supplied grain to Rome. Within forty days the pirates were driven towards Cilicia and the Eastern Mediterranean. Although Pompey had to return to Rome to deal with the consul Gaius Piso, who had been attempting to sabotage recruitment, he swiftly returned to the campaign and sailed to Cilicia. Within three months a decisive battle had been fought and, when the stronghold of Coracesium in Cilicia was destroyed the pirate menace was defeated. The retribution meted out by the pirates had always been

brutal and merciless, but Pompey chose to deal with his prisoners in a very different way. According to Plutarch (Pompey 27) he ‘determined to transfer the men from the sea to land, and let them have a taste of gentle life by being accustomed to dwell in cities and to till the ground’, and many were settled in the towns and on the land in Cilicia, in southern Asia and in Achaea. He had taken a similar approach in Sicily and in Spain; the opportunity to increase the number of his clients always informed Pompey’s treatment of those he had defeated. News of Pompey’s clemency spread to Crete, where Metellus Pius, his

colleague in the campaign against Sertorius, was now governor and conducting a campaign of an altogether more punitive nature against the pirates still on the island. These pirates wrote to Pompey and asked for his intervention on their behalf and, always eager to extend his influence, Pompey sent one of his legates, Octavius, to bring the two sides together. Unfortunately Pompey appeared to be taking sides with the pirates against Metellus, which tarnished his success, and Metellus had the pleasure of publicly insulting Octavius in front of the entire army before returning him to Pompey. Metellus then subdued the island his way, earning himself the title Creticus.