'You won't hear a priest or an augur say so,' said Rufus, unamused.
We proceeded down the path. The noise from the Forum rose to greet us. Ahead of us, Mummius had one arm around Meto's shoulders and was enthusiastically gesturing with the other. 'When Romans go into battle with flags waving, you'll always see an eagle atop the standards. Pompey wears a golden breastplate with an eagle embossed across the pectorals, its wings spread open — like a great bird come to snatch Mithridates' kingdom from him! Oh, and I remember, before the battle of the Colline Gate, back when I was a young lieutenant for Crassus and we fought for Sulla, the augurs saw three eagles circling over Rome.. Meto seemed completely captivated by such talk.
I was somewhat relieved, then, when we came to the foot of the Capitoline and Mummius took his leave of us, saying he wanted to catch the last of the debate in the Senate House. He did not tarry over farewells, but gave Meto and Eco each a crushing hug and departed at a quick marching pace, with Apollonius following him.
It seemed a good time for the whole retinue to disperse; I thanked the friends and well-wishers who had accompanied us and released them to go on about any business they might have in the Forum. It would be enough, I thought, for Meto to be accompanied by his father and brother as we crossed the Forum on our way back to the women.
But Rufus had another plan. 'Remember, earlier I said I might have a surprise for Meto.' He seemed to have put aside his misgivings and smiled slyly, or as slyly as his nature allowed. 'I am going to take you into the Senate House with me!'
'What?' My heart sank.
'To hear the senators debate?' said Meto, who seemed almost as interested in this news as he had been in Mummius's military talk.
"The idea came to me as soon as Eco asked me to preside as augur for you. Of course, in the normal course of things the Senate might not be convening at all on this day, but as it turns out, the occasion could hardly be better. The chamber will be full, and you may see quite a spectacle. We are running late, but still
'But, Rufus, only sons and grandsons of senators themselves are allowed to attend.'
'Not so. There are plenty of secretaries scurrying about.'
'But surely the likes of the Gordiani will not be allowed into the Senate House,'I said.
'Accompanied by me, you will.' He seemed completely certain. Patricians can be very sure of themselves, usually with good reason.
'Oh, Rufus, it is an honour, of course, but I think that we must decline,' I said.
Meto looked at me as if I had carelessly thrown one of his birthday presents into the Tiber. 'But, Papa, why not?' 'Yes, Papa, why not?' said Eco.
'Because — well, surely, Meto, you would feel self-conscious in such a place.'
Meto wrinkled his brow. Rufus answered for him. 'We shall hang back in the shadows. No one will even notice us.'
'But, Rufus, we shall only be in your way. We've already kept you from your business as a senator by accepting your services as augur.'
'And you're keeping me from my business now, by arguing to no purpose. Come, Gordianus, this is the day, the very hour in which Meto has become a full citizen of Rome. What better way to celebrate than to take him into the very heart of the Republic? How could you deny your son such an invaluable lesson in citizenship? I confess, I remained a little uncertain about doing this myself, up until the arrival of the eagle at the Auguraculum. Now I am convinced that it must be the right thing to do. Come, then, let's hurry, before the senators conclude their business and rush back into the Forum to beg for votes!'
He turned and pressed into the crowd. Meto looked at me with a mixture of boyish entreaty and manly impatience. Eco stared at me sympathetically, for he knew me well enough to know how deeply revolted I was by the idea of immersing myself and my family in a sea of politicians, and at the same time he knew that I had no reasonable excuse to refuse Rufus's generous and thoughtful offer, or to deny Meto the opportunity to see such a thing with his own eyes. I suppose I might have left my sons with Rufus and gone skulking back to the women — but then I would not have heard Catilina pose his riddle.
Abroad flight of steps leads up to the porch of the Senate House, where great columns flank the doorway. Loitering on the steps were various retainers of the senators within; among them I recognized some of the burly bodyguards who had accompanied Cicero in his retinue. Other guards, attached to the Senate House itself, flanked the tall doors, which by law remained open so as not to hide the proceedings within from the eyes of the gods. Again it struck me as unlikely that we would be allowed into such a place, even accompanied by Rufus, but that was because I thought the Senate House had only one entrance. Rums knew better.
Next to the Senate House and attached to it is another, less impressive building which houses various offices of the state. I had never been inside, and in fact had hardly ever noticed it. The wooden doors of the entrance stood open on such a hot day and there was no one to stop us from entering.
Within, a broad hallway ran the length of the building with rows of small rooms on either side. The rooms were full of scrolls stacked in cases against the walls and piled on tables. A few sleepy clerks moved lethargically among the documents, like shepherds tending a docile flock. They took no notice of us.
At the centre of the building a flight of steps ascended to a second storey and then to a third. Rufus led us through a succession of small, plain rooms. I began to hear echoey voices speaking in loud, oratorical tones, interrupted occasionally by an indistinct roar that might have been jeering or laughter. The sounds grew louder as we passed from room to room, until we came to an iron door that stood half-open. Rufus put a finger to his lips, though none of us had said a word since we began to follow him; then he slipped through the doorway. With one hand he gestured for us to follow.
The Senate House is not an old building, having been rebuilt and refurbished by Sulla during his dictatorship. The materials within reflect the despot's impeccable taste — the decorative walls of coloured marble, the beautifully carved columns, the ornately coffered ceiling. A vestibule separates the meeting room from the main entrance. The great chamber is rectangular,illuminated at night or in stormy weather by great lamps that hang from the ceiling, and on a bright, sunlit afternoon such as this by tall, unshuttered windows placed high up in the walls and covered by bronze lattices. Against the longer walls and in a semicircle against the short wall opposite the vestibule are three tiers of seats, so that the rows of carved wooden chairs follow the shape of the letter U. We had entered near the left-hand prong of the U, between the vestibule on our left and the tiers of seats on our right. In this inconspicuous place stood some ten or more clerks who kept attentive eyes upon the senators in case they should be summoned to fetch some document or carry a message. A few of the clerks noticed our arrival and gave us a suspicious glance, but when they saw that we were with Rufus they paid us no more attention. They seemed too engrossed by what was happening on the floor of the Senate.
Cicero stood at the very centre of the room, surrounded by the seated senators like a gladiator in the circus. If Meto needed instruction by example on how to comport himself in a toga, he could have learned much that day from Cicero, who seemed to be able to speak with his entire body, subtly turning and twisting his neck, gesticulating with one arm and clutching the other to his midriff as if it held a shield. He had come a long way from the impassioned but rather stiff orator I had met many years ago. One hardly even had to hear him to feel the force of his eloquence.
He was not delivering a set speech at the moment, but seemed instead to be engaged in a spontaneous debate with one of the senators in the tiers. From where we stood I had to crane my neck to catch a glimpse of the man, but when I heard his voice, I had no need to see him: it was Catilina.
Sulla, when he rebuilt the Senate House, had used not only his impeccable eye but his ear as well. The great lover of music and the theatre had learned a thing or two from those famous Greek theatres where an actor's whisper can
be clearly heard from the farthest seat. Every word that Cicero and Catilina exchanged pealed as clear as if we had stood between them.
'Catilina, Catilina!’ Cicero cried in a mock-wounded tone. 'I ask not that the elections be postponed to jeopardize your chances of being elected, if that is the will of the people. I would do nothing to jeopardize the will of the Roman people! But so long as I have been entrusted with the guidance of tile state, I will do everything possible to see that the state and the people are preserved from harm.’ That goes as well for the members of this august body! As it stands now, if the voting is held tomorrow, we are likely to have not an election but a bloodbath!'
At this there was another mild uproar. Thanks to the room's extraordinary acoustics, I could hear quite distinctly the mingled shouts of scoffing and agreement within the general roar.
'Cicero is obsessed with the idea that blood will be spilled on election day,' shouted Catilina, 'only because he fears it will be his own.'
'And do you deny that I have every reason to fear?' said Cicero. Did I see his eyebrows go up, or was it the posturing of his whole body that expressed such eloquent irony? 'I have asked you already about the reports that have come to us that you are conspiring against the person of the consul—’
'And I have roundly denied them, and I ask you again: what reports, and from what sources?'
'You are the one who is here to answer questions, Catilina!'
'I am not on trial!'
'You mean to say that you have not been formally charged with a crime, but only because you have not yet had the opportunity to commit it,'
This brought on another uproar.
Above the din, Cicero shouted: 'And that is only because of the vigilance of your intended victim!' He crossed his arms and drew back his shoulders, wrapping himself in his toga as if to wrap himself in virtue, then seized the folds of cloth about his neck and drew them down to expose the glittering breastplate.
This provoked an even more raucous uproar. A group of the senators surrounding Catilina, presumably his allies, rose to their feet, some laughing, some shaking their fists and jeering. Instead of retreating, Cicero actually stepped towards them, baring more of his breastplate. Such brazenness only provoked an even louder uproar.
'This is worse than the mob in the Forum,' I whispered to Rufus.
'I've never seen it quite so chaotic,' he murmured. 'Even in the most passionate debates there's always a modicum of order and mutual respect, some humour to leaven the animosities, but today the whole chamber seems on the verge of a riot.'
Above the continued shouting of Catilina's supporters Cicero managed to make his voice heard. The power of his lungs was astounding. 'Do you deny that you have conspired to assassinate members of this august body?'
'Where is your evidence?' Catilina shouted back, barely audible above the roar of his own supporters.
'Do you deny that you have plotted to murder the duly elected consul of the Republic, and to do it on the next consular election day?'
'Again, where is your evidence?'
'Do you, Lucius Sergius Catilina, deny that your ultimate goal is to dismantle the state as we know it, and to do so by whatever means are necessary, no matter how violent or illegal?'
Catilina responded, but his voice was drowned out by his own supporters, giving Cicero, with his trumpet-like voice, the advantage. At last Catilina managed to quiet his own adherents, who returned to their seats. Catilina remained standing. 'With all due respect, the esteemed consul's accusations are deranged! He frets over the safety of the Republic like a mother afraid to let her child leave the house. Is the Republic so delicate that an honest election might kill it? Is he himself so vital to the state, is his insight so unique, that we would become blind men without him? Ah, yes, Cicero sees things that other men do not — but I ask you, is that good or bad?' This provoked some scattered laughter, and with it a marked lessening of tension. 'Contrary to what this New Man may think, the history of this Republic did not begin and will not end with his consulship.' At this there was more laughter and even some cheering.
Catilina smiled bitterly. 'It is not I who seek to thwart the will of the people, Cicero, but you!' At this there were catcalls and booing from the opposite side of the chamber. ‘Yes, for who else but Cicero is determined to keep postponing the election? And why? Because he fears for his own life? This is absurd! If a man had cause to kill our esteemed consul, why wait until election day?'
'To spread chaos,' Cicero answered. 'To frighten decent voters from the polls so that your own adherents can steal the election.'
'Absurd, I say! The true theft is occurring beneath our noses, and at the consul's behest, for by making the date of the election uncertain you disenfranchise those who must travel here to vote and cannot take up lodgings indefinitely in the city. The election has already been postponed once. Do not postpone it any further!'
'The election was postponed because of the auspices,' said Cicero. "The earth quaked, thunderbolts creased the sky—' At this there were scattered moans and jeers, presumably from sceptics, followed by a second wave of jeering from the pious who hissed at the doubters.
'Typically, Cicero, you change the subject, hoping to divert our attention from the real issue! The first postponement is over and done with. The auspices now are favourable. You have no religious reason to deny the election any longer.' At this, even some of the senators who had so far been silent murmured agreement and nodded gravely.
'Come, Cicero, you have debated long enough,' cried one of the older senators. This cry was taken up by many others. Cicero stepped back and surveyed the tiers, as if assessing his strength. He appeared dissatisfied, but as the calls grew louder for the debate to end, he stepped back and gestured to his fellow consul, Gaius Antonius, who commenced the reading of a proposal to postpone again the consular election and to censure Catilina for 'disrupting the state.' Those in favour were instructed to take seats on the left-hand side of the room; those against were to gather on the opposite side, where Catilina and his supporters already sat.
At this point Rufus left us to join his fellow senators in opposition to the proposal. I noticed that Marcus Mummius was of the same faction, as were Caesar and Crassus and their adherents. When all were settled, even without a strict counting it was clear that Cicero had been thwarted and the election would proceed. Gaius Antonius announced the result and summarily dismissed the assembly.
A murmur of conversation filled the chamber, above which could be heard Cicero's trumpeting voice: 'On the morrow we shall see who spoke wisdom. I foresee dangerous times for this Republic!'
'What eyes you have, Cicero, to see so much more than the rest of us!' called Catilina.
Many of the milling senators stopped their conversations to listen. They might not have had enough of their two colleagues' debate, but I had. I gestured to Meto and Eco that it was time to go, before we were caught loitering in the chamber without Rufus to vouch for us. We slipped through the half-open door by which we had entered. Catilina's voice echoed behind us. 'And do you know what I see, Cicero? Do you know what my eyes perceive when I study this Republic? I see two bodies—'
I stopped, suddenly alert, and turned back to listen. Meto was puzzled, but I saw in Eco's eyes that he, too, had heard.
Catilina's voice was echoey and distorted, like a voice from a dream. ‘I see two bodies, one thin and wasted, but with a swollen head, the other headless, but big and strong. The invalid with a head leads the big headless one about like an animal on a chain. Ask yourself, what is there so dreadful about it, if I myself become the head of the body which needs one? The story would be quite different then!'
Told in context, the meaning of the riddle was clear. I sucked in my breath at Catilina's audacity. Having had his way on proceeding with the election, now he dared to mock not only Cicero but the Senate itself, and in its very house. For what could the withered body with a swollen head represent but the Senate? And what was the strong, headless bo
dy but the leaderless masses, of whom Catilina proposed to become the head, and whose discontent he would harness towards his own ends?
Eco also understood. 'The man must be mad,' he said.
'Or very sure of his success,' I said.
'Or both,' said Meto gravely.
XXI
After the Senate dispersed, the space in front of the Senate House became almost impassable as the various senators' retinues regrouped around their leaders. I had no desire to press into the throng to make our way through the Forum. Instead we retreated into the maze of narrow, winding side streets just north of the Forum until we emerged at the place where we had left the women.
No excuses for the length of our absence were needed, for Bethesda herself had just returned from shopping at the various markets all around the Forum. For Diana she had purchased a clay doll with eyes of green glass, for Menenia a blue and yellow scarf, and for herself a small ivory comb. I groaned inwardly at these small extravagances, thinking of all the hay that had been lost to rust and wondering how I would manage the finances of the farm through the winter. But how could I deny Bethesda the pleasure of an afternoon of shopping when she had been away from such opportunities for so long?
The litters carried us back to the house on the Esquiline, where Eco dismissed the bearers. Our dinner that night was eaten in formal courses, on couches gathered in the dining room beside the garden. Only the family was there. The women wore their stolas, and we men kept on our togas. Meto was given the place of honour. He had never reclined upon a couch and eaten a meal in formal dress, but he managed with hardly any awkwardness and did not spill a drop of wine on his toga.
The conversation was chiefly of family matters — Menenia's and Eco's refurbishment of.the house, how things were faring on the farm, Eco's relations with his in-laws. There was some discussion of the augury that afternoon, which we all agreed was uncommonly auspicious — all except Bethesda, who has always professed to find Roman religion simplistic compared to her own Egyptian sensibilities. Graciously, she did not criticize the ceremony; her only comment on the appearance of the eagle at the Auguraculum was to ask if it had any human features. Menenia, equally gracious, hid her smile behind a papyrus fan.
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