Lustrum

by Robert Harris

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.

  'Then if no one opposes it,' said Hybrida, 'the motion passes, and the chair recognises Marcus Tullius Cicero.'

  Only now did Cicero rise, to a deep rumble of acclaim from those selfsame senators who just a few weeks earlier had been mocking him for his alarmism. 'Gentlemen,' he said, 'I wish to congratulate Antonius Hybrida for the very firm manner in which he has handled this crisis today.' The senators murmured in approval; Hybrida beamed. 'For my own part, trusting in the shield provided by my friends and allies, I shall remain in Rome and continue to defy this murderous madman Catilina, as I always have. Because no one can say how long this threat will continue, I hereby ask formally to be relieved of my allotted province, in accordance with the promise I made at the start of my consulship – a promise all the more urgent in this hour of trial for our republic.'

  Cicero's patriotic self-sacrifice was warmly approved, and Hybrida at once produced the sacred urn and put into it one marked token representing Nearer Gaul and seven blanks – or so it appeared. In fact, I learned later, he had put in only blanks. The eight praetors then came forward. The first to try his luck was the haughty figure of Lentulus Sura, whom Cicero knew to be deeply involved in Catilina's schemes. Sura, one of the most inbred boobies in the senate, was closely related to Hybrida in all sorts of ways: for one thing, he had married the widow of Hybrida's brother, and was bringing up the son of that union, Mark Antony, as his own; and this same Mark Antony was engaged to Hybrida's daughter, Antonia. So I watched Hybrida closely, to see if he would be able to go through with the deception he had promised. But politics has loyalties all of its own, and they greatly supersede those to in-laws. Sura thrust his arm deep into the urn and handed his token to Hybrida, who announced it blank and showed it to the chamber. Sura shrugged and turned away; it wasn't a province he was after in any case, but Rome itself.

  Pomptinus went next, and then Flaccus, with the same result. Celer was fourth to draw a lot. He looked very cool as he made his way to the dais and picked his token. Hybrida took it from him and seemed to turn away, towards the light, to read it carefully, and that is when he must have made the switch, for when he held it up for inspection, everyone nearby could clearly see the cross that was marked upon it.

  'Celer draws Nearer Gaul!' he announced. 'May the gods favour his appointment.'

  There was applause. Cicero was on his feet at once.

  'I propose that Quintus Caecilius Metellus Celer be now invested with full military imperium, and be given the authority to raise an army to defend his province.'

  'Does anyone object?' asked Hybrida.

  For a moment I thought Crassus was going to get to his feet. He seemed to half lean forwards, hesitate, and then think better of it.

  'The motion is passed unanimously.'

  After the senate adjourned, Cicero and Hybrida convened a council of war with all the praetors to issue the necessary edicts for the defence of the city. A message was dispatched at once to the commander of the garrison at Praeneste, ordering him to strengthen the guard. A long-standing offer from the prefect of Reate to send a hundred men was accepted. In Rome the gates were to be closed an hour earlier than usual. There would be a curfew at the twelfth hour and street patrols throughout the night. The ancient prohibition on carrying arms within the precincts of the city would be suspended in the case of soldiers loyal to the senate. Wagons would be searched at random. Access to the Palatine would be blocked at sunset. All the gladiator schools in and around the capital would be closed and the fighters dispersed to distant towns and colonies. Huge rewards, of up to one hundred thousand sesterces, were to be offered to anyone �
� slaves as well as freemen – with information about potential traitors. Celer would leave at first light to begin mustering fresh levies of troops. Finally it was agreed that various reliable men should be approached and asked to bring a prosecution against Catilina for violence against the state, in return for guarantees of their personal protection.

  Throughout all this Lentulus Sura sat calmly, with his freedman Publius Umbrenus seated beside him taking notes, and afterwards Cicero complained bitterly to me of this absurdity: that two of the chief plotters should be able to attend the innermost security council of the state and report back on its decisions to their fellow criminals! But what could he do? It was the same old story: he had no evidence.

  Cicero's guards were anxious to get him home before darkness fell, and so once the business was concluded we went out cautiously into the thickening twilight and then hurried across the forum, through Subura and up the Esquiline Hill. About an hour later, Cicero was in his study composing dispatches notifying the provincial governors of the senate's decisions when the guard dog set up its infernal barking again. Moments later the porter came in to tell us that Metellus Celer had arrived to see the consul and was waiting in the atrium.

  It was obvious straight away that Celer was agitated. He was pacing around the room and cracking his knuckles, while Quintus and Titus Sextus kept a careful watch on him from the passageway.

  'Well, Governor,' said Cicero, seeing at once that his visitor needed calming down, 'the afternoon went smoothly enough, I thought.'

  'From your point of view, perhaps, but my brother isn't happy. I told you there'd be trouble. Nepos says that if the rebels in Etruria are as serious as we make out, Pompey himself should be brought home to deal with them.'

  'But we haven't the time to wait for Pompey and his army to travel a thousand miles back to Rome. We'll all be slaughtered in our beds long before he gets here.'

  'So you say, but Catilina swears he means no threat to the state, and insists those letters have nothing to do with him.'

  'You've spoken to him?'

  'He came to see me just after you left the senate. To prove his peaceful intentions he's offered to surrender himself into my personal custody for as long as I wish.'

  'Ha! What a rogue! You sent him away with a flea in his ear, I trust?'

  'No, I've brought him here to see you.'

  'Here? He's in my house?'

  'No, he's waiting in the street. I think you should talk to him. He's alone and unarmed – I'll vouch for him.'

  'Even if he is, what possible good can come of talking to him?'

  'He's a Sergius, Consul,' said Celer icily, 'descended from the Trojans. He deserves some respect for his blood, if nothing else.'

  Cicero glanced at the Sextus brothers. Titus shrugged. 'If he's on his own, Consul, we can handle him.'

  'Fetch him in then, Celer,' said Cicero, 'and I'll hear what he has to say. But I promise you, we're wasting our time.'

  I was horrified that Cicero would take such a risk, and while Celer went off to get Catilina, I actually dared to remonstrate with him. But he cut me off. 'It will show good faith on my part if I can announce in the senate that at least I was willing to receive the villain. Who knows, anyway? Perhaps he's come to apologise.'

  He forced a smile, but I could tell that this unexpected development had strained his nerves. As for me, I felt like one of the condemned men in the Games, when the tiger is let into the arena, for that was how Catilina came prowling into that room – wild and wary, full of barely suppressed fury: I half expected him to spring at Cicero's throat. The Sextus brothers stepped in close behind him as he came to a halt a couple of paces in front of Cicero. He raised his hand in mock salute. 'Consul.'

  'Say your piece, Senator, and then get out.'

  'I hear you've been spreading lies about me again.'

  'You see?' said Cicero, turning to Celer. 'What did I tell you? This is pointless.'

  'Just hear him out,' said Celer.

  'Lies,' repeated Catilina. 'I don't know a damned thing about these letters people are saying I sent last night. I'd have to be a rare fool to dispatch such messages all across the city.'

  'I'm willing to believe that you personally didn't send them,' replied Cicero, 'but there are plenty of men around you stupid enough to do such a thing.'

  'Balls! They're blatant forgeries. D'you know what I think? I think you wrote them yourself.'

  'You'd do better to direct your suspicions towards Crassus – he's the one who's used them as an excuse to turn his back on you.'

  'Old Baldhead is playing his own game, the same as he always does.'

  'And the rebels in Etruria? Are they nothing to do with you either?'

  'They're poor and starving wretches, driven to desperate lengths by the moneylenders – they have my sympathy, but I'm not their leader. I'll make the same offer to you I've made to Celer. I'll surrender myself into your custody and live in this house where you and your guards can keep an eye on me, and then you can see how innocent I am.'

  'That is not an offer but a joke! If I don't feel safe living in the same city as you, I'll hardly feel safe under the same roof.'

  'So there's nothing I can do that will satisfy you?'

  'Yes. Remove yourself from Rome and Italy entirely. Go into exile. Never return.'

  Catilina's eyes glittered and his large hands contracted into fists. 'My first ancestor was Sergestus, companion of Aeneas, the founder of our city – and you dare to tell me to leave?'

  'Oh, spare us the family folklore! Mine at least is a serious offer. If you go into exile, I'll see to it that no harm befalls your wife and children. Your sons won't suffer the shame of having a father who is condemned – because you will be condemned, Catilina, be in no doubt about that. You'll also escape your creditors, which I'd have thought was another consideration.'

  'And what about my friends? How long will they be subjected to your dictatorship?'

  'My dictatorship, as you call it, is only in force to protect us all against you. Once you're gone it won't be needed, and I for one would be pleased to start afresh and offer a clean slate to all men. Voluntary exile would be a noble course, Catilina – one worthy of those ancestors you're always talking about.'

  'So now the grandson of a chickpea farmer presumes to lecture a Sergius on what is noble? He'll be telling you next, Celer!' Celer stared stiffly ahead, like a soldier on parade. 'Look at him,' sneered Catilina. 'Typical Metelli – they always prosper whatever happens. But you realise, Cicero, that secretly he despises you? They all do. I at least have the guts to say to your face what they only whisper behind your back. They may use you to protect their precious property. But once you've done their dirty work they'll want nothing more to do with you. Destroy me if you will; in the end you'll only destroy yourself.'

  He turned on his heel, pushed past the Sextus brothers, and strode out of the house. Cicero said, 'Why is it he always seems to leave a smell of sulphur behind him?'

  'Do you think he'll go into exile?' asked Celer.

  'He might. I don't think he knows from one moment to the next what he's going to do. He's like an animal: he'll follow whatever impulse seizes him. The main thing is to maintain our guard and vigilance – I in the city, you in the countryside.'

  'I'll leave at first light.' Celer made a move towards the door, then stopped and turned. 'By the way, all that stuff about us despising you – there's not a word of truth in it, you know.'

  'I know that, Celer, thank you.' Cicero smiled at him, and maintained the smile until he heard the door close, at which point it slowly faded from his face. He sank back on to the nearest chair and held out his hands, palms upward, contemplating them in wonder, as if their violent trembling was the strangest thing he had ever seen.

  IX

  The following day, Quintus came to see Cicero in great excitement, bearing a copy of a letter that had been posted outside the offices of the tribunes. It was addressed to a number of prominent senators, among th
em Catulus, Caesar and Lepidus, and was signed by Catilina: Unable to withstand that group of enemies who have persecuted me with false charges, I have departed for exile in Massilia. I leave not because I am guilty of the heinous crimes of which I am accused but to preserve the peace of the state and to spare the republic the bloodshed that would ensue if I struggled against my fate. I commend my wife and family to your care and my honour to your memories. Farewell!

  'Congratulations, brother,' said Quintus, clapping him on the back. 'You've seen him off.'

  'But is this certain?'

  'As certain as can be. He was seen early this morning riding out of the city with a few companions. His house is locked and deserted.'

  Cicero winced and tugged at his ear lobe. 'Even so, something about it smells wrong to me.'

  Quintus, who had hurried up the hill specially to convey the good news, was irritated by his caution. 'Catilina's been obliged to flee. It's tantamount to a confession. You've beaten him.'

  And slowly, as the days passed and nothing was heard of Catilina, it did begin to seem that Quintus was right. Nevertheless, Cicero refused to relax the security restrictions in Rome; indeed, he went around with even more protection than before. Accompanied by a dozen men, he ventured outside the city to see Quintus Metellus, who still possessed military imperium, and asked him to go to the heel of Italy and take charge of the region of Apulia. The old man grumbled, but Cicero swore that after this last mission his triumph was assured, and Metellus – secretly glad to have something to occupy him, I suspect – set off at once. Another former consul also hoping for a triumph, Marcius Rex, went north to Faesulae. The praetor Q. Pompeius Rufus, whom Cicero trusted, was ordered to go to Capua to raise troops. Meanwhile Metellus Celer continued recruiting an army in Picenum.

  At some point during this time, the rebel leader Manlius sent a message to the senate: We call on gods and men to witness that our object in taking up arms was not to attack our country or endanger others, but to protect ourselves from wrong. We are poor needy wretches; the cruel harshness of moneylenders has robbed most of us of our homes, and all of us have lost reputation and fortune. He demanded that every debt contracted in silver (as most debts were) be repaid in copper: an effective relief of three quarters. Cicero proposed sending a stern reply that there could be no negotiations until the rebels laid down their arms. The motion carried in the senate, but many outside whispered that the rebels' cause was just.