After the rites and business were taken care of, Creticus entertained us at a splendid banquet where we drank nothing but the very best Cretan wines. Creticus was an undistinguished, mild-looking man. He had been an easygoing, plodding politician and had eventually worked his way up the ladder until he won the office of Consul, which he held with Quintus Hortensius Hortalus, my father's patron. As his proconsular command, he had been given the war against Crete and the pirates based there. He was as undistinguished a general as he had been a politician, and fought a long, desultory campaign. But then, unexpectedly, he displayed courage and stubbornness when Pompey, as was his wont, tried to usurp his command when the campaign was all but over.
Pompey's supporter, the tribune Gabinius, had passed a law giving Crete to Pompey. A number of the Cretan cities, knowing that the war was lost, hastened to surrender to Pompey. Everyone was in the habit of surrendering to Pompey at that time, while surrendering to a third-rate general like Metellus Creticus would be a disgrace. Metellus had refused to recognize Pompey's right to accept their surrenders and threatened to attack Pompey's officers. For a while, it almost looked as if civil war would break out, but Pompey backed down. The next year the tribune Manilius passed a law giving Pompey command of the entire Mediterranean in order to crush the pirates, but by that time Creticus had Crete conquered and reorganized as a province. Pompey still held a grudge and his flunkies resisted Creticus's right to celebrate a triumph.
In justice to Pompey, I must say that his campaign against the pirates was brilliant, crushing them completely and almost without bloodshed. It was a masterpiece of organization rather than tactics, and causes me to believe that had Pompey concentrated on administration rather than conquest he might have been one of Rome's great benefactors, instead of being a mere military adventurer, who plunged the Republic into the most destructive of its civil wars.
I finally managed to get Creticus aside after the banquet. Many of the family had already gone home, and the rest of us were walking our dinner off in the formal gardens or admiring the loot from Crete. Crete is not Asia, and Creticus had brought back no such treasure as had Lucullus, but the pirate strongholds had yielded some respectable loot and the cities had possessed some very fine Greek statues, which he had appropriated. His proudest display was a trophy in the form of a Cretan column, studded with the bronze rams of pirate galleys. He had a slave who did nothing all day except polish the bronze.
I found Creticus on the broad portico of his house overlooking the gardens. I made one of those half-unconscious gestures that indicates a desire for a private audience. I had decided that I would arouse no suspicion thereby. Everyone would just assume that I was hitting him up for a loan.
"Good to see you, Decius," he said. "I am happy that your father stood up to those idiots on the matter of your name. Have you any idea what it was like, growing up in this family with the name Quintus? At a family gathering like this, somebody yells 'Quintus!' and three quarters of the males turn to see who is calling them."
"I never thought of it that way," I admitted. "Actually, sir, I am here to speak with you on behalf of the Consul Cicero. It's a matter of urgent danger to the state."
He was understandably startled. "Speak on."
Very briefly, I sketched the conspiracy for him, and Cicero's instructions to him. His expression went from incredulity to concern to calculation. I knew exactly what he was calculating: how long would it take Pompey to reach Rome once he had word?
"Sergius Catilina planning a coup?" He gave a laugh that was half snort. "The man's an embarrassment to the Republican system. It was presumptuous enough that he dared to stand for election as Consul, but this! Mark me, Decius, someone else is behind this, and I suspect Pompey."
"That I doubt, sir," I said. "Personally, I suspect Crassus."
"Even if he isn't behind it, Pompey will try to take advantage of the situation." I gave him no argument on that point. "We'll have to smash it hard and fast. You think he'll make his move this winter?"
"Assuredly. His bunglers couldn't keep their activities secret for longer than that. I think he plans to strike very soon."
"All to the good, then. It's the worst sailing weather of the year and the overland route would take Pompey far too long to do him any good. Who else is being informed?"
"The Consul will personally inform Marcius Rex," I told him.
"Excellent. Marcius is a good man and he's kept a strong cadre of his legionaries close to him. His bandits are an even meaner lot than mine. If we can keep things pacified here in Rome and the surrounding countryside, the praetores should be able to raise enough men from the municipia to control Italy handily. Tell Cicero I am at his orders, at least until the end of the year."
"I shall do so," I promised. "Meantime, Antonius Hibrida is assembling a force to accompany him to Macedonia, but they will stay in Picenum."
Again, the snort-laugh. "Cicero had better not put too much trust in that Antonine lout. He's as likely to be a party of the plot as he is to crush it."
"I doubt that," I told him. "He's too anxious to loot Macedonia."
"That could be. I hope you are right." Then we were joined by a party of family elders and I slipped away.
As I prepared to leave the villa of Creticus, it occurred to me that Cicero was being characteristically astute in dividing up the defense among so many commanders. He saw little danger to the state from Catilina and his featherbrained followers, but a great danger indeed from a possible "savior" of the Republic. Any general who found himself near Rome, in possession of a large army after a quick, victorious campaign, might well feel entitled to take advantage of the situation. It had been done before.
I took my leave and as I left the villa I was joined by the one man I least expected to seek me out: Quintus Caecilius Metellus Nepos, the tribune-elect and Pompey's legatus. I knew him only slightly and had not spoken with him in a number of years. He was only a year or two older than I, a tall, erect man who looked as if he was still in armor. He was as fair as I was dark and where I was compact, he was lanky. Only our mutual possession of the long Metellan nose proclaimed our kinship.
"Decius," he said as we wended our way down the Janiculum, "I have been meaning for some time to speak with you."
"I am always easy to find," I said. "My door is always open, both for official visits or social ones." We passed the Egyptian embassy. The Janiculum was covered with very fine villas, most of them owned by rich men who wanted to be near the seat of power but away from the crowding and squalor of the city.
"I had no desire to trouble you at home, and what I have to tell you I wished to deliver in privacy and strict confidentiality. The family gathering seemed like a good opportunity."
"And what requires such mystery?" I asked, "Surely your patron Pompey doesn't require my services to conquer the rest of the world?" His fair face flushed and I regretted my sharp words. I had no reason to dislike Nepos. "Forgive me," I said. "It's just that I detest Pompey, but everyone knows that. Please, tell me what you wished me to hear."
He stopped and we stood facing one another. It was a still day, and the only sounds came from the odd fauna on the other side of the wall surrounding the Egyptian embassy.
"Decius, I have heard, never mind how, that you are involved in something that is not merely ignoble and disgraceful, but deadly. I beg you to desist. If you go on as you have, you'll be dragged to the Tiber on a hook and the family will suffer ignominy. As a kinsman, I urge you to cease."
This shook me. If Nepos knew, then who else? And if Nepos knew, then Pompey would know about it within days. He could have his men and ships assembled in anticipation of word from the Capitol that an insurrection had begun. It could save him precious weeks at a time when travel was difficult.
"I won't ask you how you came by your information," I said, "but I accept your warning as a gesture of family loyalty. Now hear mine. Do not interfere with me. I think you know that I will do nothing to harm Rome or our constitut
ion."
"Then what game are you playing, Decius?" I thought about that for a moment.
"Knucklebones," I answered him.
"What?"
"Quintus, is there anyone left in Rome who isn't playing some sort of game? The proceedings of the Senate and the popular assemblies have become the screen behind which we play our games. It's beginning to look as if Rome will be the prize of the best game-player."
He just looked at me, stolid and soldierly. "I think you have gone mad, Decius."
"Then I've fallen victim to the national affliction. Don't stand too close, Quintus, it's contagious."
"Good day to you then," he said and strode away stiffly.
My mind raced in a dozen different directions at once. It seemed as if Catilina's conspiracy held its secrets about as well as a basket holds water. Who had betrayed me to Nepos? Then 1 remembered that tribune-elect Bestia had been seen with Nepos. I stopped where I was and cursed myself for a fool. Bestia was Pompey's spy within the conspiracy.
That meant that Pompey had probably known about the plot from its conception. When Catilina should begin his insurrection in earnest, the tribunes Bestia and Nepos would pass a law for the Senate to recall Pompey from Asia, with emergency powers. That would give Pompey proconsular imperium within Italy itself, a virtual dictatorship in all but name.
And that, I realized in a sweat, would be a very bad time to be known as the enemy of Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus.
Chapter XI
I decided to blame it all on Aurelia. After all, if she had not ensnared me with her feminine wiles, my mind would have functioned normally. What man can plot and scheme rationally, when he has surrendered all his higher faculties and functions to woman-induced lust? Thus I salved my pride, as young men have done since remotest antiquity. This however did not bring about the slightest abatement of my feelings toward that woman. I dreamt of her constantly and held to my perverse hope that she was entirely innocent.
For two days after the family gathering I fretted thus, having no new word from Catilina and no idea of how to proceed on my own. Then, as I left the temple and made my way to the baths, Valgius accosted me, being elaborately casual about it, as if anyone were paying the slightest attention.
"We meet tonight at the house of Laeca," he said, almost hissing the words. "Be there as soon as it is dark. The time is near. Good job on Asklepiodes, by the way." He spoke as one craftsman to another.
At last. Surely, Catilina had to move soon, if this conspiracy were to be anything but talk. And there had already been too many murders for these men to confine themselves to mere words. I proceeded to the baths as if nothing was amiss. In fact, I took my time and luxuriated in the best bathhouse in Rome, using the cold, tepid and hot pools followed by the steam room, then back into the cold pool and finishing off on the masseur's table. I knew that it might be a very long time before I should be able to enjoy this homely, tranquil pleasure again.
At home I made out my will, something I used to do frequently in times of disorder, uncertainty and stress. Having made disposition of my negligible property, I armed myself and went out into the darkening streets. It is one of the most annoying aspects of conspiracy that it compels one to blunder about the streets at night. I got lost several times trying to find the house of Laeca, and it is always embarrassing to have to pound on doors and ask directions.
I found the house about an hour after sunset. It was Thorius who let me in. Apparently, the slaves had been confined for the duration of the meeting. That seemed to be about the only elementary precaution these people bothered with. Inside, about fifteen men were crowded into the atrium. All wore strained looks, as if the seriousness of what they were doing had at last become real to them. They spoke among themselves in tense mutters, as if each had a strangling hand at his throat. All fell silent when Catilina appeared from the rear of the house.
"My friends!" he began. "Comrades! Fellow patriots! The time has come for us to act!" His mood was one of barely suppressed hilarity. He was trying to speak past a grin that split his face like a sword-cut. His excitement put a quaver into his voice and I could see, appallingly, how much time, hatred, disappointment and bitterness had gone into the plan that was at last to bear fruit. I had the horrifying feeling that he was about to break into a dance.
"Today," Catilina declared, "I have sent word to my lieutenant Gaius Manlius in Fiesole. He is to call his men together and raise the rebellion immediately." The assembled men gave a hoarse cheer.
"The same message," he said when they were quiet, "has gone to Nobilior in Bruttium." A more restrained cheer greeted this announcement. The others probably shared my opinion of the people of Bruttium. "When word reaches Rome that there is insurrection in Bruttium and Etruria, there will be panic in the Senate.
That -" he shouted the word-"will be the time for us to rise here in the city. We will kill, and burn, and rouse the people against their oppressors, the moneylenders and the decadent aristocrats who have sequestered the high offices of state to themselves. We shall sweep over Rome like a cleansing fire, and restore the Republic to its ancient purity!" This, from the man who proposed to destroy the Republic utterly.
And something rang terribly false in Catilina's rant, His near-hysterical elation was desperate in its joy. Before, his confidence, however unjustified, had been real. Now it was forced. What could have happened? Had he suffered a sudden attack of reality? I doubted it.
"As soon as we have shown our hand here in the city," Catilina went on, "then I shall ride out to join our troops in the field. For it will be through fighting outside the walls that Rome shall be won. I will take with me those men who wish to win glory on the field of battle, while others remain here, to hold the city for me, a post equally honorable." I saw all around me men who wore a look of great relief. Street fighting was something they knew, and they had no stomach for hazarding their lives on an open battlefield.
Catilina seemed to be gaining confidence, as if it was something he absorbed from the worshipful devotion of his followers. He began to point out individuals and assign them their duties.
"Valgius, Thorius, have your bands of fire-raisers ready. Cethegus, be sure that the weaponry is in good order to be handed out to our supporters here in the city. Junius, put your street spies on alert." Then he turned toward me. "Metellus…"
"Yes, Consul?" I said, all my innards quaking.
"Remain here for a while after the others have left. I have duties for you to attend to."
"As my Consul commands!" I said dutifully. I felt a slight relief. Surely, if he had detected my true nature, he would have taken that moment to have his followers kill me.
"This is a momentous day in the fortunes of the Republic," Catilina proclaimed. "As momentous as that day almost seven centuries ago when we cast out the Tar-quins, foreigners who had presumed to be kings of the Romans!" More cheering. "In years to come, whenever Roman schoolchildren are asked by their schoolmasters, 'When was the Republic restored?' they will answer, 'Upon the night that the supporters of the Consul Catilina met at the house of Laeca.' " At this the cheering and applause were deafening. This lust for the adulation of unborn generations of schoolboys has always eluded me, but it was very real to the men gathered in that atrium.
"Go, then!" Catilina cried. "Go to your stations of action. Now is not the time for talk, but for action. Do your duty now, by your rightful Consul, and future generations will bless and exalt your names. Monuments to the men present here this night will grace the Forum, for all to admire, and your names shall be as the names of our founding fathers." A hoarse and ragged cheer greeted this, as if even this group could not believe that they would ever enjoy such esteem.
When they were gone, I stood in the suddenly large room, fingering my dagger hilt and caestus.
After a few minutes, Catilina returned to the room alone. He carried a scroll of papyrus. This he unrolled on a table, weighting its corners. He dipped a reed pen in a pot of ink and turned to me.
>
"Decius, I want you to sign this. It's a message to the Gauls, committing ourselves to the rebellion and promising to uphold their demands, restore their liberties and cancel their debts."
I looked at the papyrus. They had actually taken the bait. "Lucius, isn't it unwise to commit something like this to writing?" Quickly, I looked over the document, which was as Catilina had described it. Foremost among the names, I saw the Praetor Publius Lentulus Sura, but none of the other high-ranking men whose names the conspirators had been so free with. Crassus, Hortalus, Lucullus and Caesar were conspicuously absent.
"The war has begun, Decius," Catilina said. "We are all as good as declared public enemies now. Our names on a paper will mean nothing… Unless you feel you have some reason for refusing to sign."
"Not at all," I said, snatching up the reed pen and signing my name. I carefully used my title and my formal name, signing as Quaestor Decius Caecilius son of Decius grandson of Lucius great-grandson of Lucius Metellus. I wanted to ensure that no one could alter my name to implicate my father. Catilina glanced at my signature and made a satisfied sound. He scattered sand on the wet ink and shook it off, then rerolled the scroll, "Lucius," I said, "you must sent Orestilla and Aurelia away to someplace safe until this is over." He just looked at me absently, as if he had his mind on more important things.
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