Lustrum c-2

by Robert Harris

  'That's bribing the voters.'

  'No, it's enthusing them. Remember, these are poor citizens for the most part. They need to feel their vote has value, and that great men have to pay them some attention, if only once a year. It's all they have.'

  'Cicero, you completely amaze me. Never did I think to hear a Roman consul say such a thing. Power has entirely corrupted you. I shall introduce my bill tomorrow. Cato will second the motion and I expect you to support it – otherwise the country will draw its own conclusions.'

  'Typical Servius – always the lawyer, never the politician! Don't you understand? If people see you going around not to canvass but to collect evidence for a prosecution, they'll think you've given up hope. And there's nothing more fatal during an election campaign than to appear unconfident.'

  'Let them think what they like. The courts will decide. That is what they're there for.'

  The two men parted badly. Nevertheless, Servius was right in one respect: Cicero, as consul, could hardly let himself be seen to condone bribery. He was obliged to support the campaign finance reform bill when Servius and Cato laid it before the senate the next day.

  Election canvasses normally lasted four weeks; this one went on for eight. The amount of money expended was amazing. The patricians set up a war chest to fund Silanus into which they all paid. Catilina received financial support from Crassus. Murena was given one million sesterces by Lucullus. Only Servius made a point of spending nothing at all, but went around with a long face, accompanied by Cato and a team of secretaries recording every example of illegal expenditure. Throughout this time Rome slowly filled with Lucullus's veterans, who camped out on the Field of Mars by day and came into the city at night to drink and gamble and whore. Catilina retaliated by bringing in supporters of his own, mostly from the north-west, in particular Etruria. Ragged and desperate, they materialised out of the primeval forests and swamps of that benighted region: ex-legionaries, brigands, herdsmen. Publius Cornelius Sulla, nephew of the former dictator, who supported Catilina, paid for a troop of gladiators, ostensibly to entertain but really to intimidate. At the head of this sinister assembly of professional and amateur fighters was the former centurion Gaius Manlius, who drilled them in the meadows across the river from the Field of Mars. There were terrible running battles between the two sides. Men were clubbed to death; men drowned. When Cato, in the senate, accused Catilina of organising this violence, Catilina slowly got to his feet.

  'If a fire is raised to consume my fortunes,' he said very deliberately, turning to look at Cicero, 'then I will put it out – not with water but by demolition.'

  There was a silence, and then, as the meaning of his words sank in, a shocked chorus of 'Oh!' rang round the chamber – 'Oh!' – for this was the first time Catilina had hinted publicly that he might be willing to use force. I was taking a shorthand record of the debate, sitting in my usual place, below and to the left of Cicero, who was in his curule chair. He immediately spotted his opportunity. He stood and held up his hand for silence.

  'Gentlemen, this is very serious. There should be no mistake as to what we have just heard. Clerk, read back to the chamber the words of Sergius Catilina.'

  I had no time to feel nervous as for the first and only time in my life I addressed the senate of the Roman republic: '“If a fire is raised to consume my fortunes,”' I read from my notes, '“then I will put it out – not with water but by demolition.”'

  I spoke as loudly as I could and sat down quickly, my heart pounding with such violence it seemed to shake my entire body. Catilina, still on his feet, his head on one side, was looking at Cicero with an expression I find it hard to describe – a sneer of insolence was part of it, and contempt, and blazing hatred obviously, and even perhaps a hint of fear: that twitch of alarm that can drive a desperate man to desperate acts. Cicero, his point made, gestured to Cato to resume his speech, and only I was close enough to see that his hand was shaking. 'Marcus Cato still has the floor,' he said.

  That night Cicero asked Terentia to speak to her highly placed informant, the mistress of Curius, to try to find out exactly what Catilina meant. 'Obviously he's realised he's going to lose, which makes this a dangerous moment. He might be planning to disrupt the poll. “Demolition”? See if she knows why he used that particular phrase.'

  Lucullus's triumph was to take place the following day, and in this atmosphere Quintus naturally worried about the arrangements for Cicero's security. But nothing could be done. There was no chance of varying the route, which was fixed by solemn tradition. The crowds would be immense. It was only too easy to imagine a determined assassin darting forwards, thrusting a long blade into the consul, and disappearing into the throng. 'But there it is,' said Cicero. 'If a man is set on killing you, it's hard to stop him, especially if he's willing to die in the attempt. We shall just have to trust to Providence.'

  'And the Sextus brothers,' added Quintus.

  Early the next morning Cicero led the entire senate out to the Field of Mars, to the Villa Publica, where Lucullus was lodging prior to entering the city, surrounded by the pitched tents of his veterans. With characteristic arrogance, Lucullus kept the delegation waiting for a while, and when he appeared, he presented a gaudy apparition, robed in gold, his face painted in red lead. Cicero recited the official proclamation of the senate, then handed him a laurel wreath, which Lucullus held aloft and showed to his veterans, slowly turning full circle to roars of approval before delicately placing it on his head. Because I was now on the staff of the treasury, I was given a place in the parade, behind the magistrates and senators, but ahead of the war booty and the prisoners, who included a few of Mithradates's relatives, a couple of minor princes, and half a dozen generals. We passed into Rome through the Triumphal Gate, and my chief recollections are of the oppressive heat of that summer day, and the contorted faces of the crowds lining the streets, and the rank smell of the beasts – the oxen and mules, dragging and carrying all that bullion and those works of art – their animal grunts and bellows mingling with the shouts of the spectators, and far behind us, like distant rolling thunder, the tramp of the legionaries' boots. It was quite disgusting, I have to say – the whole city stinking and shrieking like a vivarium – and no more so than after we had passed through the Circus Maximus and had come back along the Via Sacra to the forum, where we had to wait until the rest of the procession caught up with us. Standing outside the Carcer was the public executioner, surrounded by his assistants. He was a butcher by training, and looked it, squat and broad in his leather apron. This was where the crowd was thickest, drawn as always by the shivering thrill of close proximity to death. The miserable prisoners, yoked at the neck, their faces burned red by this sudden exposure to the sun after years of darkness, were led up one by one to the carnifex, who took them down into the Carcer and strangled them – thankfully out of sight, but still I could see that Cicero was keeping his face averted, and talking fixedly to Hybrida. A few rows back, Catilina watched Cicero with almost lascivious interest.

  Such are my principal memories of the triumph, although I must recount one other, which is that when Lucullus drove across the forum in his chariot, he was followed on horseback by Murena, who had finally arrived in Rome for the election, having left his province to the care of his brother. He received a great ovation from the multitudes. The consular candidate looked the very picture of a war hero, in his gleaming breastplate and gorgeous scarlet-plumed helmet, even though he had not fought in the army for years and had grown rather plump in Further Gaul. Both men dismounted and started climbing the steps to the Capitol, where Caesar waited with the College of Priests. Lucullus was ahead, of course, but his legate was only a few paces behind, and I appreciated then Cicero's genius in laying on what was in effect an immense election rally for Murena. Each of the veterans received a bounty of nine hundred and fifty drachmas, which in those days was about four years' pay, and then the entire city and the surrounding neighbourhoods were treated to a lavish banquet. 'If M
urena can't win after this,' Cicero observed to me, as he set off for the official dinner, 'he doesn't deserve to live.'

  The next day, the public assembly voted the bill of Servius and Cato into law. When Cicero returned home, he was met by Terentia. Her face was white and trembling but her voice was calm. She had just come from the Temple of the Good Goddess, she said. She had some terrible news. Cicero must brace himself. Her friend, that noble lady who had come to her to warn her of the plot against his life, had that morning been discovered dead in the alley beside her house. Her head had been smashed in from behind by a hammer, her throat cut and her organs removed.

  As soon as he had recovered from the shock, Cicero summoned Quintus and Atticus. They came at once and listened, appalled. Their first concern was for the consul's safety. It was agreed that a couple of men would stay in the house overnight and patrol the downstairs rooms. Others would escort him in public during the day. He would vary his route to and from the senate. A fierce dog would be acquired to guard the door.

  'And how long must I go on living like a prisoner? Until the end of my life?'

  'No,' responded Terentia, displaying her rare gift for getting to the heart of the matter, 'until the end of Catilina's life, because as long as he's in Rome, you'll never be safe.'

  He saw the wisdom of this, reluctantly grunted his assent, and Atticus went off to send a message to the Order of Knights. 'But why did he have to kill her?' Cicero wondered aloud. 'If he suspected she was my informant, why couldn't he simply have warned Curius not to speak openly in front of her?'

  'Because,' said Quintus, 'he likes killing people.'

  Cicero thought for a while, then turned to me. 'Send one of the lictors to find Curius, and tell him I want to see him, straight away.'

  'You mean to invite into your house someone who is part of a plot to murder you?' exclaimed Quintus. 'You must be mad!'

  'I won't be alone. You'll be here. He probably won't come. But if he does, at least we may find out something.' He glanced around at our worried expressions. 'Well? Does anyone have a better idea?'

  Nobody did, so I went out to the lictors, who were playing bones in a corner of the atrium, and ordered the most junior to find Curius and bring him back to the house.

  It was one of those endless hot summer days when the sun seems reluctant to sink, and I remember how still it was, the motes of dust motionless in the shafts of fading light. On such evenings, when the only sounds even in the city are the drone of insects and the soft trilling of the birds, Rome seems older than anywhere in the world; as old as the earth itself; entirely beyond time. How impossible it was to believe that forces were at work at its very heart – in the order of the senate – that might destroy it! We sat around quietly, too tense to eat the meal that had been set upon the table. The additional bodyguards ordered by Atticus arrived and stationed themselves in the vestibule. When, after an hour or two, the lengthening shadows made the house gloomy, and the slaves went round lighting the candles, I assumed that Curius either had not been found, or had refused to come. But then at last we heard the front door open and slam shut, and the lictor came in with the senator, who looked around him suspiciously – first at Cicero, then at Atticus, Quintus, Terentia and me, and then back at Cicero again. He certainly was a handsome figure: one had to give him that. Gambling was his vice, not drink, and I suppose throwing dice leaves less of a mark upon a man.

  'Well, Curius,' said Cicero quietly, 'this is a terrible business.'

  'I'll talk to you alone, not in front of others.'

  'Not talk in front of others? By the gods, you'll talk in front of the entire Roman people if I say so! Did you kill her?'

  'Damn you, Cicero!' Curius swore, and lunged towards the consul, but Quintus was on his feet in a moment and blocked his way.

  'Steady, Senator,' he warned.

  'Did you kill her?' repeated Cicero.

  'No!'

  'But you know who did?'

  'Yes! You!' Once more he tried to push his way past Quintus, but Cicero's brother was an old soldier, and stopped him easily. 'You killed her, you bastard,' he shouted again, struggling against Quintus's restraining arms, 'by making her your spy!'

  'I'm prepared to bear my share of guilt,' replied Cicero, gazing at him coolly. 'Will you?'

  Curius muttered something inaudible, pulled himself free of Quintus and turned away.

  'Does Catilina know you're here?'

  Curius shook his head.

  'Well, that at least is something. Now listen to me. I'm offering you a chance, if you've brains enough to take it. You've hitched your fate to a madman. If you didn't know it before, you must realise it now. How did Catilina know she'd been to see me?'

  Again Curius mumbled something no one could hear. Cicero cupped his hand to his ear. 'What? What are you saying?'

  'Because I told him!' Curius glared at Cicero with tearful eyes. He struck his breast with his fist. 'She told me, and I told him!' And he struck himself again – hard, hard, hard blows – in the manner of some Eastern holy man lamenting the dead.

  'I need to know everything. Do you understand me? I need names, places, plans, times. I need to know who exactly will strike at me, and in what location. It's treason if you don't tell me.'

  'And treachery if I do!'

  'Treachery against evil is a virtue.' Cicero got to his feet. He put his hands on Curius's shoulders and stared hard into his face. 'When your lady came to see me, it was your safety as much as mine that was her concern. She made me promise, on the lives of my children, that I would grant you immunity if this plot was ever exposed. Think of her, Curius, lying there – beautiful, brave, broken. Be worthy of her love and her memory, and act now as you know she would have wanted.'

  Curius wept; indeed, I could hardly restrain my own tears, such was the pitiful vision Cicero conjured up: that, and the promise of immunity, did the trick. When Curius had pulled himself together sufficiently, he promised to get word to Cicero the moment he heard any definite news of Catilina's plans. Thus Cicero's thin line of information from the enemy's camp remained intact.

  He did not have long to wait.

  The following day was election eve, and Cicero was due to preside over the senate. But because of the fear of an ambush, he had to follow a circuitous route, along the Esquiline and down to the Via Sacra. The journey took twice as long as usual, and it was mid-afternoon by the time we arrived. His curule chair was placed on the doorstep and he sat there in the shade, reading through some letters, surrounded by his lictors, waiting for the auguries to be taken. Several senators wandered over to ask if he had heard what Catilina was supposed to have said that morning. Apparently he had addressed a meeting in his house in the most inflammatory terms. Cicero replied that he had not, and sent me off to see if I could discover anything. I walked around the senaculum and approached one or two senators with whom I was on friendly terms. The place was certainly buzzing with rumours. Some said that Catilina had called for the richest men in Rome to be murdered, others that he had urged an uprising. I jotted a few sentences down, and was just returning to Cicero when Curius brushed past me and slipped into my hand a note. He was sickly white with terror. 'Give this to the consul,' he whispered, and before I could reply he was gone. I looked around. A hundred or more senators were talking in small groups. As far as I could tell, no one had seen the encounter.

  I hurried over to Cicero and handed him the message. I bent to his ear and whispered, 'It's from Curius.'

  He opened it, studied it for a moment, and his face tensed. He passed it up to me. It said, You will be murdered tomorrow during the elections. At just that moment the augurs came up and declared that the auspices were propitious. 'Are you certain about that?' asked Cicero in a grim voice. Solemnly they assured him that they were. I could see him weighing in his mind what best to do. Finally he stood and indicated to his lictors that they should pick up his chair, and he followed them into the cool shadows of the senate chamber. The senators filed in behin
d us. 'Do we know what Catilina actually said this morning?'

  'Not in any detail.'

  As we walked up the aisle he said to me quietly, 'I fear this warning may have some substance to it. If you think about it, it's the one time when they can be sure precisely where I'll be – on the Field of Mars, presiding over the ballot. And with all those thousands of people milling around, how easy it would be for ten or twenty armed men to hack their way through to me and take me down.' By this time we had reached the dais and the benches were filling. He glanced back, searching the white-robed figures. 'Is Quintus here?'

  'No, he's canvassing.' Indeed, a great many senators were absent. All the candidates for consul, and most of those for tribune and praetor – including Quintus and Caesar – had chosen to spend the afternoon meeting voters rather than attending to the business of the state. Only Cato was in his place, reading his treasury accounts. Cicero grimaced and tightened his fist, crushing Curius's message. He stood that way for quite some time until he became conscious that the house was watching him. He mounted the steps to his chair.

  'Gentlemen,' he announced, 'I have just been informed of a grave and credible conspiracy against the republic, involving the murder of your leading consul.' There was a gasp. 'In order that the evidence may be examined and debated, I propose that the start of the elections tomorrow be postponed, until the nature of this threat has been properly assessed. Are there any objections?' In the excited murmur that followed, no clear voice could be heard. 'In that case, the senate will stand adjourned until first light tomorrow,' and with these words he swept down the aisle followed by his lictors.

  Rome was now plunged into a state of great confusion. Cicero went straight back to his house and immediately set about trying to find out precisely what Catilina had said, dispatching clerks and messengers to potential informants across the city. I was ordered to fetch Curius from his house on the Aventine. At first his doorkeeper refused to admit me – the senator was seeing no one, he said – but I sent a message to him on behalf of Cicero and eventually was allowed in. Curius was in a state of nervous collapse, torn between his fear of Catilina and his anxiety not to be implicated in the murder of a consul. He flatly refused to go with me and meet Cicero face to face, saying it was too dangerous. It was only with great difficulty that I persuaded him to describe the meeting at Catilina's house.