Lustrum c-2

by Robert Harris

'Yours – for encouraging his career in the first place!'

  They argued back and forth for a while longer as the senators watched, bemused. It was already widely known in Rome that Terentia was not the usual humble, obedient kind of wife and this scene was bound to be widely reported. But although Cicero must have resented her for contradicting him in front of his colleagues, I knew that he would have to agree with her in the end. His anger stemmed from his recognition that he had no choice: he was trapped. 'Very well,' he said finally. 'I'll do my duty for Rome, as always, although it may be at some cost to my personal safety. But then I suppose I should be used to that. I shall see you in the morning, gentlemen,' and with an irritated wave of his hand he dismissed them.

  After they had gone, he sat brooding. 'You realise that this is a trap?'

  'A trap for whom?' I asked.

  'For me, of course.' He turned to Terentia. 'Consider it: out of the whole of Italy, it finally turns out that only one man is in a position to challenge Clodius's alibi – and that man is Cicero. Do you think that is a coincidence?' Terentia did not respond; nor had it occurred to me until he mentioned it. He said to me, 'This witness of theirs from Interamna – this Causinius Schola, or whatever his name is – we ought to find out more about him. Who do we know from Interamna?'

  I thought for a moment, and then with a sick feeling in my heart I said, 'Caelius Rufus.'

  'Caelius Rufus,' repeated Cicero, striking the side of his chair, 'of course.'

  'Another man you should never have brought into our house,' said Terentia.

  'When was the last time we saw him?'

  'Months ago,' I answered.

  'Caelius Rufus! He was a drinking and whoring companion of Clodius back when he first became my pupil.' The longer Cicero pondered it, the more certain he became. 'First he runs with Catilina and then he takes up with Clodius. What a snake that boy has been to me! This wretched witness from Interamna will turn out to be a client of his father's, you can rely upon it.'

  'So you think Rufus and Clodius have plotted between them to entrap you?'

  'Do you doubt they're capable of it?'

  'No. But I wonder why they would go to all the trouble of creating a false alibi purely in order to lure you on to the witness stand to destroy it. Clodius wants his alibi to go unchallenged, surely?'

  'So you think that someone else is behind it?'

  I hesitated.

  'Who?' demanded Terentia.

  'Crassus.'

  'But Crassus and I are entirely reconciled,' said Cicero. 'You heard the way he praised me to the skies in front of Pompey. And then he let me have this house so cheaply-' He was going to say something else, but then he stopped.

  Terentia turned the full force of her scrutiny on to me. 'Why would Crassus go to such lengths to cause your master trouble?'

  'I don't know,' I lied. I could feel my face turning red.

  Cicero said quietly, 'You might as well ask, why does the scorpion sting? Because that is what scorpions do.'

  The conversation broke up soon afterwards. Terentia went off to attend to Marcus. I retired to the library to attend to the senator's correspondence. Only Cicero remained on the terrace, staring thoughtfully across the forum to the Capitol as the shades of evening began to spread.

  The following morning, pale and silent with nerves – for he knew full well what kind of reception he was likely to receive – Cicero went down into the forum, escorted by the same number of bodyguards he used to have around him in the days of Catilina. Word had got out that the prosecution was unexpectedly calling him as a witness, and the moment Clodius's supporters saw him pushing his way towards the platform they set up a gale of booing and catcalling. As he climbed the temple steps towards the tribunal, some eggs and dung were thrown, which provoked the most remarkable counter-demonstration. Almost the whole of the jury got to their feet and formed a cordon to protect Cicero from the missiles. Some even turned to the crowd, pulled down their collars and pointed to their bare throats, as if to say to Clodius's lynch mob, 'You will have to kill us before you can kill him.'

  Cicero was well used to giving evidence on the witness stand. He had done it in at least a dozen cases against Catilina's co-conspirators in the last year alone. But never had he faced a cockpit such as this, and the urban praetor had to suspend the court until order could be restored. Clodius sat looking at Cicero with his arms folded and a grim expression on his face: the behaviour of the jury must have been deeply troubling to him. Sitting by Clodius's side for the first time in the trial was his wife, Fulvia. It was a cunning move on the defence's part to produce her, for she was only sixteen and looked more like his daughter than a married woman – exactly the sort of vulnerable young girl guaranteed to melt a jury's heart. She was also a descendant of the Gracchi family, who were immensely popular with the people. She had a hard, mean face, but then being married to Clodius would surely have been enough to curdle even the sweetest nature.

  When at last the chief prosecutor, Lentulus Crus, was called on to examine the witness, an anticipatory silence fell. He crossed the court to Cicero. 'Although the whole world knows who you are, would you please state your name?'

  'Marcus Tullius Cicero.'

  'Do you swear by all the gods to tell the truth?'

  'I swear.'

  'You are familiar with the accused?'

  'I am.'

  'Where was he between the sixth and seventh hours on the day of the ritual of the Good Goddess last year? Can you give the court that information?'

  'I can. I remember it very well.' Cicero turned from his questioner to the jury. 'He was in my house.'

  An excited murmur ran around the spectators and the jury. Clodius said very loudly, 'Liar!' and his claque set up a fresh chorus of jeering. The praetor, whose name was Voconius, called for order. He gestured to the prosecutor to continue.

  'There is no doubt about this?' asked Crus.

  'None whatever. Others in my household saw him, as well as I.'

  'What was the purpose of the visit?'

  'It was a social call.'

  'Would it have been possible, in your opinion, for the accused to have left your house and been in Interamna by nightfall?'

  'Not unless he put on wings as well as women's clothes.'

  There was much laughter at this. Even Clodius smiled.

  'Fulvia, the wife of the accused, who is also sitting there, claims to have been with her husband in Interamna that same evening. What do you say to that?'

  'I would say that the delights of married life have obviously so affected her judgement that she no longer knows what day of the week it is.'

  The laughter was even more prolonged, and again Clodius joined in, but Fulvia stared ahead of her with a face that was like a child's fist, small and white and clenched: she was a terror even then.

  Crus had no further questions and returned to the prosecutors' bench, yielding the floor to Clodius's advocate, Curio. He was no doubt a brave man on the battlefield, but the courtroom was not his natural arena, and he approached the great orator in the manner of a nervous schoolboy poking a snake with a stick. 'My client has long been an enemy of yours, I believe?'

  'Not at all. Until he committed this act of sacrilege we enjoyed friendly relations.'

  'But then he was accused of this crime and you deserted him?'

  'No, his senses deserted him, and then he committed the crime.'

  Again there was laughter. The defence counsel looked annoyed.

  'You say that on the fourth day of December last year my client came to see you?'

  'I do.'

  'It is suspiciously convenient, is it not, that you should suddenly remember that Clodius came to see you on that date?'

  'I should have said that the convenience in the matter of dates was all on his side.'

  'What do you mean by that?'

  'Well, I doubt he spends many nights of the year in Interamna. But by a remarkable coincidence, the one night he does happen to find himself
in that distant spot is also the night a dozen witnesses swear to have seen him cavorting in women's dress in Rome.'

  As the amusement spread, Clodius stopped smiling. Clearly he had had enough of watching his advocate being batted around the court, and he gestured to him to come over to his bench for a consultation. But Curio, who was nearing sixty and unused to ridicule, was losing his temper and had started waving his arms around.

  'Some fools no doubt will think this is all very witty wordplay, but I put it to you that you have made a mistake, and that my client came to see you on another day entirely.'

  'I have no doubt about the date – and for a very good reason. It was the first anniversary of my salvation of the republic. Believe me, I shall always have particular reason for remembering the fourth day of December.'

  'And so will the wives and children of the men you had murdered!' shouted Clodius. He leapt to his feet. Voconius at once appealed for order, but Clodius refused to sit and continued yelling insults. 'You behaved as a tyrant then, as you do now!' Turning to his supporters standing in the forum, he gestured to them to join in. They needed little encouragement. Almost to a man they surged forward, jeering. A fresh flight of missiles raked the platform. For the second time that morning, the jury came to Cicero's aid, surrounding him and trying to cover his head. The urban praetor shouted out to Curio, demanding to know if the defence had any further questions for the witness. Curio, who looked utterly dismayed at the way the jury were again protecting Cicero, signalled that he had finished, and the court was hastily adjourned. A combination of jurymen, bodyguards and clients cleared a path for Cicero through the forum and up the Palatine Hill to his home.

  I had expected to find Cicero badly shaken by the whole experience, and certainly at first sight he looked it. His hair was standing up in tufts, his toga was streaked with dirt. But otherwise he was unscathed. Indeed, he was exultant, striding around his library, reliving the highlights of his testimony. He felt he had defeated Catilina for a second time. 'Did you see the way that jury closed ranks around me? If ever you wished for a symbol of all that is best about Roman justice, Tiro, you saw it this morning.' Still, he decided against going back to the court to hear the closing speeches, and it was not until two days later, when the verdict was due to be delivered, that he ventured down to the Temple of Castor to see Clodius sentenced.

  The jury by this time had requested armed protection from the senate, and a century of troops guarded the steps up to the platform. As Cicero approached the section of seats reserved for senators, he raised his arm to the jury and a few saluted him back, but many glanced nervously in the other direction. 'I suppose they must be afraid of showing their feelings in front of Clodius's mob,' Cicero said to me. 'After they have cast their votes, do you think I should go and stand with them, to show my support? There is bound to be trouble, even with an armed guard.' I was not at all sure this was wise, but there was no time for me to reply, as the praetor was already coming out of the temple. I left Cicero to take his place on the bench and went to join the crowd nearby.

  The prosecution and defence having rested their cases, it now remained only for Voconius to sum up their arguments and direct the jury on points of law. Clodius was once again seated beside Fulvia. He turned and whispered to her occasionally, while she stared hard at the men who would shortly decide her husband's fate. Everything in court always takes longer than one expects – questions have to be answered, statutes consulted, documents found – and it must have been at least an hour later that the court officials finally began handing out the wax voting tokens to the jurymen. On one side was scratched an A for acquittal, and on the other a C for condemnation. The system was designed for maximum secrecy: it was the work of a moment to use one's thumb to wipe a letter clear and then drop the vote into the urn as it was handed round. When every token had been collected, the urn was carried over to the table in front of the praetor and emptied out. All around me the crowd stood on tiptoe, straining to see what was happening. For some, the tension of the silence was too much, and they felt compelled to puncture it by shouting out banalities – 'Come on, Clodius!' 'Long live Clodius!' – cries that produced little flurries of applause in the teeming multitude. An awning had been set up above the court to keep off the weather, and I remember how the canvas snapped like a sail in the stiff May breeze. At last the reckoning was done and the tally was handed to the praetor. He stood, and the court all did the same. Fulvia gripped Clodius's arm. I closed my eyes tight shut and prayed. We needed just twenty-nine votes to send Clodius into exile for the rest of his life.

  'There voted in favour of condemnation twenty-five, and in favour of acquittal thirty-one. The verdict of this court is therefore that Publius Clodius Pulcher is not guilty of the charges laid against him, and the case-'

  The praetor's final words were lost in the roar of approval. For me, the earth seemed to tilt. I felt myself sway, and when I opened my eyes, blinking in the glare, Clodius was making his way around the court, shaking hands with the jurors. The legionaries had linked arms to prevent anyone storming the platform. The mob were cheering and dancing. On either side of me Clodius's supporters insisted on shaking my hand, and I tried to force a smile as I did so, otherwise they might have beaten me up, or worse. In the midst of this noisy jubilation, the senatorial benches sat as white and still as a field of freshly fallen snow. I could make out a few expressions – Hortensius stricken, Lucullus uncomprehending, Catulus slack-mouthed with dismay. Cicero wore his professional mask and gazed statesmanlike into the distance.

  After a few moments Clodius came to the front of the platform. He ignored the praetor's shouts that this was a court of law and not a public assembly and held up his hands for quiet. At once the noise fell away.

  'My fellow citizens,' he said, 'this is not a victory for me. This is a victory for you, the people.' Another great swell of applause carried forward and broke against the temple, and he turned his face towards it, Narcissus to his mirror. This time he let the adulation go on for a long time. 'I was born a patrician,' he continued eventually, 'but the members of my own class turned against me. It is you who have supported and sustained me. It is to you I owe my life. I am of you. I wish to be among you. And henceforth I shall dedicate myself to you. Let it be known, therefore, on the day of this great victory, that it is my resolve to disavow my inheritance of blood as a patrician, and to seek adoption as a plebeian.' I glanced at Cicero. The statesmanlike look had vanished. He was staring at Clodius in open astonishment. 'And if I am successful, I shall follow a path of ambition not through the senate – filled as it is with the bloated and the corrupt – but as a people's representative – as one of you – as a tribune!' More massive applause followed, which again he quieted with a stroke of his hand. 'And if you, the people, choose me as a tribune, I make you this pledge and this promise, my friends – those who have taken the lives of Roman citizens without trial will very soon know what it is to taste the people's justice!'

  Afterwards, Cicero retired to his library to mull over the verdict with Hortensius, Catulus and Lucullus, while Quintus went off to see if he could discover what had happened. As the senators sat in shock, Cicero told me to fetch some wine. 'Four votes,' he murmured. 'Just four votes cast the other way, and that irresponsible reprobate would even now be on his way out of Italy for ever. Four votes! ' He could not stop repeating it.

  'Well, this is the end for me, gentlemen,' announced Lucullus. 'I shall retire from public life.' From a distance he seemed still to possess his usual cold demeanour, but when one came close to him, as I did when I handed him a cup of wine, one could see that he was blinking uncontrollably. He had been humiliated. It was intolerable to him. He drank the wine quickly and held out his cup for more.

  'Our colleagues will be in a panic,' observed Hortensius.

  Catulus said, 'I feel quite faint.'

  'Four votes!'

  'I shall tend my fish, study philosophy and compose myself for death. This republic holds no
place for me any longer.'

  Presently, Quintus arrived with news from the court. He had spoken to the prosecutors, he said, and to three of the jurors who had voted to condemn. 'It seems there has never been such bribery in the history of Roman justice. There are rumours that some of the key men were offered four hundred thousand to make sure the verdict went Clodius's way.'

  ' Four hundred thousand? ' repeated Hortensius in disbelief.

  'But where did Clodius get such sums?' demanded Lucullus. 'That little bitch of a wife is rich, but even so…'

  Quintus said, 'The rumour is that the money was put up by Crassus.'

  For the second time that day, the solid earth seemed to melt beneath my feet. Cicero glanced briefly in my direction.

  'I find that hard to believe,' said Hortensius. 'Why would Crassus want to pay out a fortune to rescue Clodius, of all people?'

  'Well, I can only report what is being said,' replied Quintus. 'Crassus had twenty of the jury round to his house last night, one after the other, and asked each of them what they wanted. He settled bills for some. To others he gave contracts. The rest took cash.'

  'That is still not a majority of the jury,' pointed out Cicero.

  'No, the word is that Clodius and Fulvia were also busy,' said Quintus, 'and not just with their gold. Beds were creaking in some noble houses in Rome last night, for those jurors who chose to take their payment in a different coin – male or female. I'm told that Clodia herself worked hard for several votes.'

  'Cato has been right all along,' exclaimed Lucullus. 'The core of our republic is utterly rotten. We're finished. And Clodius is the maggot who will destroy us.'

  'Can you imagine a patrician transferring to the plebs?' asked Hortensius in a tone of wonder. 'Can you imagine wanting to do such a thing?'

  'Gentlemen, gentlemen,' said Cicero, 'we've lost a trial, that's all – don't let's lose our nerve. Clodius isn't the first guilty man to walk free from a court of law.'

  'He will come after you, brother,' warned Quintus. 'If he transfers to the plebs, you can be sure he will be elected tribune – he's too popular now to be stopped – and once he has the powers of that office at his disposal, he can cause you a great deal of trouble.'