Lustrum (20 page)

'Those letters are very odd. Do you think he wrote them himself ?'

'Why would he do that?'

'I suppose so that he could come to you in the middle of the night and play the part of the loyal citizen. They do give him the perfect excuse to withdraw his support from Catilina.' Suddenly I became excited, for I thought I saw the truth. 'That's it! He must have sent Arrius out to take a look at what was happening in Etruria, and then when Arrius came back and told him what was going on, he took fright. He's decided Catilina's certain to lose, and wants publicly to distance himself.'

Cicero nodded approvingly. 'That's clever.' He wandered back along the passage and into the atrium, his hands clasped behind his back, his head hunched forward, thinking. Suddenly he stopped. 'I wonder …' he began.

'What?'

'Well, look at it the other way round. Imagine that Catilina's plan works: that Manlius's ragamuffin army does indeed capture Praeneste and then advances on Rome, gathering support in every town and village through which it passes. There's panic and slaughter in the capital. The senate house is stormed. I am killed. Catilina effectively takes control of the republic. It's not impossible – the gods know, we have few enough here to defend
us, while Catilina has many supporters living within our walls. Then what would happen?'

'I don't know. It's a nightmare.'

'I can tell you precisely what would happen. The surviving magistrates would have no option except to summon home the one man who could save the nation: Pompey the Great, at the head of his Eastern legions. With his military genius, and with forty thousand trained men under his command, he'd finish off Catilina in no time, and once he'd done that, nothing would stand between him and the dictatorship of the entire world. And which of his rivals does Crassus fear and hate more than any other?'

'Pompey?'

'Pompey. Exactly. That's it. The situation must be much more perilous even than I thought. Crassus came to see me tonight to betray Catilina not because he's worried he might fail but because he's frightened he'll succeed.'

The next morning at first light we left the house accompanied by four knights including the Sextus brothers, who henceforth would seldom leave the consul's side. Cicero kept the hood of his cloak well up and his head well down, while I carried the case of letters. Every few paces I had to take an extra step to keep up with his long stride. When I asked him where we were going, he replied: 'We need to find ourselves a general.'

It seems odd to relate, but overnight all Cicero's recent misery and despair had left him. Faced with this immense crisis he seemed – not happy: that would be absurd to say, but invigorated. He almost bounded up the steps to the Palatine, and when we turned into Victory Rise I realised our destination must be
the house of Metellus Celer. We passed the portico of Catulus and drew into the doorway of the next house, which stood vacant, its windows and entrance boarded up. Determined not to be seen, Cicero said that he would wait here while I went next door and announced that the consul wished to see the praetor alone and in the strictest confidence. I did as he asked, and Celer's steward quickly reported back that his master would join us as soon as he could get away from his morning levee. When I returned to fetch Cicero, I found him talking to the watchman of the empty house. 'This place belongs to Crassus,' he told me as we walked away. 'Can you believe it? It's worth a fortune but he's leaving it empty so that he can get a better price next year. No wonder he doesn't want a civil war – it's bad for business!'

Cicero was conducted by a servant down an alleyway between the two houses, through the rear door and directly into the family apartments. There, Celer's wife Clodia, alluring in a silken robe over her nightdress, and with the musky smell of the bedchamber still upon her, waited to greet him. 'When I heard you were coming clandestinely through the back door I hoped it was to see
me
,' she said reproachfully, fixing him with her sleepy eyes, 'but now I hear it's my husband you want, which really is too boring of you.'

'I fear everyone is a bore,' said Cicero, bowing to kiss her hand, 'compared to she who reduces us all, however eloquent, to stammering wrecks.'

It was a measure of Cicero's revived spirits that he had the energy to flirt, and the contact between his lips and her skin seemed to last far longer than was necessary. What a scene: the great and prudish orator bent over the hand of the most titled trollop in Rome! It actually flashed into my mind – a wild, fantastical notion – that Cicero might one day leave Terentia for
this woman, and I was glad when Celer came bustling into the room in his usual hearty military manner and the intimate atmosphere was instantly dissolved.

'Consul! Good morning! What can I do for you?'

'You can raise an army and save your country.'

'An army? That's a good one!' But then he saw that Cicero was serious. 'What are you talking about?'

'The crisis I have for so long predicted is upon us at last. Tiro, show the praetor the letter addressed to Crassus.' I did so, and watched Celer's face grow rigid as he read the words.

'This was sent to Crassus?'

'So he says. And these others were also delivered to him last night for distribution across the city.' Cicero gestured to me and I handed Celer the bundle of letters. He read a couple and compared them. When he had finished, Clodia lifted them from his hands and studied them herself. He made no effort to stop her, and I made a note in my mind to remember that she was privy to all his secrets. 'And that's only the half of it,' continued Cicero. 'According to Quintus Arrius, Etruria is swarming with Catilina's men. Manlius is raising a rebel army equivalent to two legions. They plan to seize Praeneste, and Rome will be next. I want you to take command of our defences. You'll need to move swiftly if we're to stop them.'

'What do you mean by swiftly?'

'You'll leave the city today.'

'But I have no authority—'

'I'll get you the authority.'

'Hold on, Consul. There are things I need to think about before I go off raising troops and rampaging through the countryside.'

'Such as?'

'Well, first I must certainly consult my brother Nepos. And
then I have my other brother – my brother by marriage – Pompey the Great, to think about—'

'We haven't the time for all that! If every man starts considering his family's interests ahead of his nation's, we'll never get anywhere. Listen, Celer,' Cicero said, softening his tone in that way I'd heard him do so often, 'your courage and firm action have already saved the republic once when Rabirius was in peril. Ever since then I've known that history has cast you to play the hero's part. There's glory as well as peril in this crisis. Remember Hector: “No sluggard's fate, ingloriously to die/But daring that which men to be shall learn.” Besides, if you don't do it, Crassus will.'

'Crassus? He's no general! All he knows about is money.'

'Maybe, but he's already sniffing round the chance for military glory. Give him a day or two and he'll have bought himself a majority in the senate.'

'If there's military glory to be had, Pompey will want it, and my brother has come back to Rome expressly to ensure he gets it.' Celer gave me back the letters. 'No, Consul – I appreciate your faith in me, but I can't accept without their approval.'

'I'll give you Nearer Gaul.'

'What?'

'Nearer Gaul – I'll give it you.'

'But Nearer Gaul isn't yours to give.'

'Yes it is. It's presently my allotted province, swapped with Hybrida for Macedonia, if you recall. It was always my intention to renounce it. You can have it.'

'But it's not a basket of eggs! There'll have to be a fresh ballot among the praetors.'

'Yes, which you will win.'

'You'll rig the ballot?'

'
I
shan't rig the ballot. That would be most improper. No, no, I'll leave that side of things to Hybrida. He may not have many talents, but rigging ballots I believe is one of them.'

'What if he refuses?'

'He won't. We have an understanding. Besides,' said Cicero, flourishing the anonymous letter addressed to Hybrida, 'I'm sure he'd prefer it if this wasn't made public.'

'Nearer Gaul,' said Celer, rubbing his broad chin. 'It's better than Further Gaul.'

'Darling,' said Clodia, putting her hand on her husband's arm, 'it really is a very good offer, and I'm sure Nepos and Pompey will understand.'

Celer grunted, and rocked back and forth on his heels a few times. I could see the greed in his face. Eventually he said, 'How soon d'you think I could be given this province?'

'Today,' said Cicero. 'This is a national emergency. I shall argue that there must be no uncertainty about commands anywhere in the empire, and that my place is in Rome, just as yours is in the field, putting down the rebel forces. We'll be partners in defence of the republic. What do you say?'

Celer glanced at Clodia. 'It will put you ahead of all your contemporaries,' she said. 'Your consulship will be guaranteed.'

He grunted again, and turned back to Cicero. 'Very well,' he replied, and extended his massive muscled arm towards the consul. 'For the sake of my country, I say yes.'

From Celer's house, Cicero walked the few hundred paces to Hybrida's, roused the presiding consul from his habitual drunken stupor, sobered him up, told him about the rebel army gathering in Etruria, and gave him his lines for the day. Hybrida baulked
at first when told he would have to rig the ballot for Nearer Gaul, but then Cicero showed him the letter from the conspirators with his name written on it. His glassy, red-veined eyes almost popped out of his head and he began to sweat and shake in alarm.

'I swear to you, Cicero, I knew nothing about it!'

'Yes, but unfortunately, my dear Hybrida, as you well know, this city is full of jealous and suspicious minds that might easily be persuaded to believe otherwise. If you really want to prove your loyalty beyond question, I suggest you oblige me in this matter of Nearer Gaul, and you may rely on my absolute support.'

So that took care of Hybrida, and then it was simply a matter of squaring the right senators, which Cicero proceeded to do before the afternoon session while the auspices were being taken. By now the city was awash with rumours about a rebel assault and a plot to murder the leading magistrates. Catulus, Isauricus, Hortensius, the Lucullus brothers, Silanus, Murena, even Cato, who was now a tribune-elect alongside Nepos – each was drawn aside and given a whispered briefing. Cicero at these moments looked like nothing so much as a crafty carpet salesman in a crowded bazaar, glancing furtively over his customer's shoulder and then backwards over his own, his voice low, his hands moving expressively as he sought to close a deal. Caesar watched him from a distance, and I in turn watched Caesar. His expression was unreadable. There was no sign of Catilina.

When the senators all trooped in for the start of the session, Cicero took his place at the end of the front bench nearest to the consular dais, which was where he always sat when he was not presiding; Catulus was on his other side. From this vantage point, by a series of nods and eye gestures at Hybrida and
occasional audible whispers, Cicero was normally able to control proceedings even in those months when he did not have the chair. To be fair to him, Hybrida was almost credible when he had a script to read out, as he had that day. With his broad shoulders squared and his noble head thrown back, and in a voice that had been pickled rich in wine, he declared that public events had taken a grave turn overnight, and called upon Quintus Arrius to make a statement.

Arrius was one of those senators who did not speak often but when he did was listened to with respect. I don't know why. Perhaps the absurdity of his voice seemed to lend it a peculiar sincerity. He rose now and delivered a very full report of what he had seen happening in the countryside: that armed bands were congregating in Etruria, recruited by Manlius; that their numbers might soon swell to ten thousand; that he understood their intention was to attack Praeneste; that the security of Rome itself was threatened; and that similar uprisings were planned in Apulia and Capua. By the time he resumed his seat, there was an audible and growing swell of panic. Hybrida thanked him and next called on Crassus, Marcellus and Scipio to read aloud the messages they had received the previous evening. He gave the letters to the clerks, who passed them to their original recipients. Crassus was first on his feet. He described the mysterious arrival of the warnings and how he had gone at once with the others to see Cicero. Then he read his out in a firm, clear voice: '
The time for talking is over. The moment for action has arrived. Catilina has drawn up his plans. He wishes to warn you there will be bloodshed in Rome. Spare yourself and leave the city secretly. When it is safe to return, you will be contacted
.'

Can you imagine the cumulative effect of those words, gravely intoned by Crassus and then repeated, more nervously, by Scipio
and Marcellus? The shock was all the greater as Crassus was known to have supported Catilina for the consulship not once but twice. There was a profound hush, and then someone shouted, 'Where is he?' The cry was taken up by others. 'Where is he? Where is he?' In the pandemonium, Cicero briefly whispered something to Catulus, and the old patrician took the floor.

'In view of the appalling news this house has just received,' declared Catulus, 'and in accordance with the ancient prerogatives of this order, I propose that the consuls should be empowered to take all necessary measures for the defence of the realm, under the provisions of the Final Act. These powers shall include, but not be limited to, the authority to levy troops and conduct war, to apply unlimited force to allies and citizens alike, and to exercise supreme command and jurisdiction both at home and abroad.'

'Quintus Lutatius Catulus has proposed that we adopt the Final Act,' said Hybrida. 'Does anyone wish to oppose it?'

All heads now turned to Caesar, not least because the legitimacy of the Final Act was the central issue at the heart of the prosecution of Rabirius. But Caesar, for the first time in my experience, looked utterly overwhelmed by events. He noticeably did not exchange a word with his neighbour, Crassus, or even glance at him – a rare occurrence, as normally they were very thick together – and I deduced from this that Crassus's betrayal of Catilina had taken him entirely by surprise. He made no gesture of any sort, but stared straight ahead into the middle distance, thus giving some of us an early preview of those marble busts of him that gaze impassively with sightless eyes across every public building in Italy.