'The government of this republic has become a travesty,' he shouted, 'and I shall take no further part in it! You have shown yourselves unworthy of the name of the Roman senate. I shall not summon you to meet on any day when I am consul. Stay in your homes, gentlemen, as I shall do, and look into your souls, and ask yourselves if you have played your parts with honour.'
Many of his listeners bowed their heads in shame. But Caesar, who was sitting between Pompey and Crassus, and who had been listening to this with a faint smile, immediately rose and said, 'Before Marcus Bibulus and his soul depart the chamber and this house is adjourned for a month, I would remind you gentlemen that this law obliges us all to swear an oath to uphold it. I therefore propose that we should go together now, as a body, to the Area Capitolina and take that oath, so that we may show publicly our unity with the people.'
Cato jumped up. He had his arm in a sling. 'This is an outrage!' he protested, no doubt stung to find the moral high ground temporarily taken from him by Bibulus. 'I shan't sign your illegal law!'
'And nor shall I,' echoed Celer, who had delayed setting out for Further Gaul in order to oppose Caesar. Several others called out the same – among them I noticed young Marcus Favonius, who was an acolyte of Cato's, and the ex-consul Lucius Gellius, who was well into his seventies.
'Then on your own heads be it,' said Caesar with a shrug. 'But remember: the penalty for refusing to comply with the law may be death.'
I had not expected Cicero to speak, but very slowly he got to his feet, and it was a tribute to his authority that the whole chamber was immediately stilled. 'I do not mind this man's law,' he said, staring directly at Caesar, 'although I deplore and condemn absolutely the methods by which he has forced it upon us. Nevertheless,' he continued, turning to the rest of the chamber, 'the law it is, and the people want it, and it requires us to take this oath. Therefore I say to Cato and to Celer, and to any other of my friends who contemplate making dead heroes of themselves: the people will not understand your action, for you cannot oppose illegality by illegality and hope to command respect. Hard times lie ahead, gentlemen, and although you may not feel you need Rome any more, Rome has need of you. Preserve yourselves for the battles yet to come rather than sacrificing yourselves uselessly in one that is already lost.'
It was a most effective speech, and when the senators filed out of the chamber, almost all of them followed the Father of the Nation towards the Capitol, where the oath was to be sworn. Once Pompey's soldiers saw what the senate intended to do, they cheered them loudly (Bibulus, Cato and Celer went up later, when no one was looking). The sacred stone of Jupiter, which had fallen from the heavens many centuries earlier, was fetched out from the great temple, and the senators lined up to place their hands on it and promise to obey the law. But Caesar, even though they were all doing what he wanted, was clearly troubled. I saw him go up to Cicero and take him to one side and speak to him with great seriousness. Afterwards I asked Cicero what he had said. 'He thanked me for my leadership in the senate,' Cicero replied, 'but said he did not care for the tone of my remarks, and hoped that I did not plan to cause him and Pompey and Crassus any trouble, for if I did he would be obliged to retaliate, and that would pain him. He had given me my chance, he said, to join his administration and I had rejected it, and now I must bear the consequences. How do you like that for a piece of effrontery?' He swore roundly, which was unusual for him, and added, 'Catulus was right: I should have beheaded that snake when I had the chance.'
XVII
Despite his resentment, Cicero kept out of public life for the whole of the next month – an easy matter, as it turned out, as the senate did not meet. Bibulus locked himself away in his house and refused to move, whereupon Caesar declared that he would govern through assemblies of the people, which Vatinius, as tribune, would summon on his behalf. Bibulus retaliated by letting it be known that he was perpetually on his roof, studying the auguries, and that they were consistently unfavourable – thus no official business could legally be transacted. Caesar responded by organising noisy demonstrations in the street outside Bibulus's home, and by continuing to pass his laws via the public assemblies regardless of what his colleague said. (Cicero wittily remarked that Rome seemed to be living under the joint consulship of Julius and Caesar.) It sounded legitimate when one put it that way – governing through the people: what could be fairer? – but really 'the people' were the mob, controlled by Vatinius, and any who opposed what Caesar wanted were quickly silenced. Rome had become a dictatorship in all but name, and most respectable senators were appalled. But with Pompey and Crassus supporting Caesar, few dared speak out against him.
Cicero would have preferred to stay in his library and continue to avoid trouble. But in the midst of all this turmoil, towards the end of March, he was obliged to go down to the treason tribunal in the forum to defend Hybrida. To his huge embarrassment, the hearing was scheduled to be held in the comitium itself, just outside the senate house. The curved steps of the rostra, rising like the seats of an amphitheatre, had been cordoned off to form the court, and a large crowd was already clustered around it, eager to see what possible defence the famous orator could come up with for a client who was so manifestly guilty. 'Well, Tiro,' Cicero said to me under his breath as I opened the document case and handed him his notes, 'here is the proof that the gods have a sense of humour – that I should have to appear in this place, as the advocate for this rogue!' He turned and smiled at Hybrida, who was himself at that moment climbing laboriously up on to the platform. 'Good morning to you, Hybrida. I trust you have avoided the wine at breakfast, as you promised? We shall need to keep clear wits about us today.'
'Of course,' replied Hybrida. But it was obvious from the way he stumbled on the steps, as well as from his slurred speech, that he had not been as abstemious as he claimed.
Apart from me and his usual team of clerks, Cicero had also brought along his son-in-law, Frugi, to act as his junior. Rufus, in contrast, appeared alone, and the moment I saw him striding across the comitium towards us, with only one secretary in attendance, I felt what little confidence I had evaporate. Rufus was not yet twenty-three and had just completed a year in Africa on the staff of the governor. A youth had gone out, a man had returned, and I reckoned the contrast between this tall and sunburnt prosecutor and the fleshy, ruined Hybrida was worth a dozen jury votes even before the trial had started. Nor did Cicero come well out of the comparison. He was twice the age of Rufus, and when he went over to his opponent to shake his hand and wish him good luck, he appeared stooped and care-worn. It was like a tableau on the wall of the baths: Juventus versus Senex, with sixty jurymen arrayed in tiers behind them, and the praetor, the haughty Cornelius Lentulus Clodianus, seated between them in the judge's chair.
Rufus was called on first to lay out his case, and it was soon obvious that he had been a more attentive pupil in Cicero's chambers than any of us had realised. The burden of his prosecution was fivefold: first, that Hybrida had concentrated all his energies on extorting as much money as he could from Macedonia; second, that the revenue that should have gone to his army had been diverted into his own pocket; third, that he had neglected his duties as military commander during an expedition to the Black Sea to punish rebellious tribes; fourth, that he had demonstrated cowardice on the field of battle by fleeing from the enemy; and finally fifth, that as a result of his incompetence, the empire had lost the region around Histria on the Lower Danube. Rufus laid these charges with a mixture of moral outrage and malicious humour that was worthy of the Master at his best. I remember in particular his graphic account of Hybrida's dereliction of duty on the morning of the battle against the rebels. 'They found the man himself stretched out in a drunken stupor,' he said, walking around the back of Hybrida and gesturing to him as if he were an exhibit, 'snoring with all the force of his lungs, belching repeatedly, while the distinguished ladies who shared his quarters sprawled over every couch, and the other women were lying on the floor all around. Hal
f dead with terror, and aware now of the enemy's approach, they tried to rouse up Hybrida; they shouted his name, and tried in vain to hoist him up by his neck; some whispered blandishments in his ear, one or two gave him an energetic slap. He recognised all their voices and their touch and tried to put his arms round the neck of whoever was nearest to him. He was too much aroused to sleep, and too drunk to stay awake; dazed and half asleep, he was thrown around in the arms of his centurions and his concubines.'
And all this, mark you, delivered without a note. It was murderous enough for the defence by itself. But the prosecution's main witnesses – including several of Hybrida's army commanders, a pair of his mistresses, and his quartermaster – were even worse. At the end of the day Cicero congratulated Rufus on his performance, and that evening he frankly advised his gloomy client to sell his property in Rome for the best price he could get, and convert his assets into jewellery or anything portable that he could carry into exile. 'You must brace yourself for the worst.'
I shall not describe all the details of the trial. Suffice it to say that even though Cicero tried every trick he knew to discredit Rufus's case, he barely left a scratch on it, and the witnesses Hybrida produced in his own defence were uniformly feeble – mostly his old drinking companions, or officials he had bribed to lie. By the end of the fourth day, the only question was: should Cicero call on Hybrida to testify, in the hope at least of eliciting some sympathy from the jury; or should Hybrida cut his losses, leave Rome quietly before the verdict, and thus spare himself the humiliation of being jeered out of the city? Cicero took Hybrida into his library to make a decision.
'What do you think I should do?' asked Hybrida.
'I would leave,' answered Cicero, who was desperate to put an end to his own ordeal. 'It's possible your testimony could make matters even worse. Why give Rufus the satisfaction?'
Hybrida broke down. 'What did I ever do to that young man that he should seek to destroy me in such a fashion?' Tears of self-pity trickled down his plump cheeks.
'Now, Hybrida, compose yourself and remember your illustrious ancestors.' Cicero reached across and patted his knee. 'Besides, it's nothing personal. He's simply a clever young man from the provinces, ambitious to rise in the world. In many ways, he reminds me of myself at that age. Unfortunately, you just happen to provide him with the best means of making his name – just as Verres did for me.'
'Damn him,' said Hybrida suddenly, straightening his back. 'I shall testify.'
'Are you certain you are up to it? Cross-examination can be a brutal business.'
'You undertook to defend me,'said Hybrida, at last showing some of his old spirit, 'and I want to put up a defence, even if I lose.'
'Very well,' said Cicero, doing his best to disguise his disappointment. 'In that case we must rehearse your testimony, and that will take us some time. Tiro, you had better bring the senator some wine.'
'No,' said Hybrida firmly. 'No wine. Not tonight. I spent my entire career drunk; I shall at least end it sober.'
And so we worked late into the night, practising what Cicero would ask and how Hybrida would respond. After that, Cicero played the part of Rufus, throwing the most unpleasant questions he could devise at his former colleague, and helping him frame the least incriminating answers. I was surprised by how quick on the uptake Hybrida was when he put his mind to it. The two men went to bed at midnight – Hybrida sleeping under Cicero's roof – and got up at dawn to resume their preparation. Afterwards, as we were walking down to the court with Hybrida and his attendants ahead of us, Cicero said, 'I begin to see why he rose so high in the first place. If only he could have shown such grip earlier, he would not now be facing ruin.'
When we reached the comitium, Hybrida called out cheerfully, 'This is how it was in the time of our joint consulship, Cicero, when we stood shoulder to shoulder to save the republic!' The two men then went up on to the platform, where the court was waiting, and when Cicero announced that he would be calling Hybrida as his final witness, a stir of antici pation ran through the jury. I saw Rufus sit forward on his bench and whisper something in the ear of his secretary, and the man picked up his stylus.
Hybrida was quickly sworn in, and Cicero took him through the questions they had rehearsed, beginning with his military experience under Sulla a quarter of a century before, and dwelling especially on his loyalty to the state at the time of Catilina's conspiracy.
'You laid aside considerations of past friendship, did you not,' asked Cicero, 'to take command of the senate's legions that finally crushed the traitor?'
'I did.'
'And you sent back the monster's head to the senate as proof of your actions?'
'I did.'
'Mark that well, gentlemen,' said Cicero, addressing the jury. 'Is that the action of a traitor? Young Rufus over there supported Catilina – let him deny it – and then fled from Rome to avoid sharing in his fate. Yet now he has the nerve to come creeping back into the city and accuse of treason the very man who rescued us from ruin!' He turned back to Hybrida. 'After crushing Catilina, you relieved me of the burden of governing Macedonia, so that I could devote myself to extinguishing the last embers of the conspiracy?'
'I did.'
And so it went on, with Cicero leading his client through his testimony like a father leading a child by the hand. He prompted him to describe how he had raised revenue in Macedonia through entirely legal means, accounted for every penny, raised and equipped two legions, and led them on a hazardous expedition eastwards through the mountains to the Black Sea. He painted a terrifying picture of warlike tribes – Getians, Bastarns, Histrians – harrying the Roman column as it marched along the Danube valley.
'The prosecution alleges that when you heard there was a large enemy force ahead, you split your force in two, taking the cavalry with you to safety and leaving the infantry undefended. Is that true?'
'Not at all.'
'You were in fact bravely pursuing the Histrian army, is that correct?'
'That's right.'
'And while you were away, the Bastarn forces crossed the Danube and attacked the infantry from the rear?'
'True.'
'And there was nothing you could do?'
'I am afraid there was not.' Hybrida lowered his head and wiped his eyes, as Cicero had instructed him.
'You must have lost many friends and comrades at the hands of the barbarians.'
'I did. A great many.'
After a long pause, during which there was complete silence in the court, Cicero turned to the jury. 'The fortunes of war, gentlemen,' he said, 'can be cruel and capricious. But that is not the same as treason.'
As he resumed his seat there was prolonged applause, not only from the crowd but among the jury, and for the first time I dared to hope that Cicero's skill as an advocate might once again have saved the day. Rufus smiled to himself and took a sip of wine and water before getting to his feet. He had an athlete's way of loosening his shoulders by linking his hands behind his head and rotating his upper torso from side to side. Watching him do it then, just before he started his cross-examination, the years seemed to fall away, and suddenly I remembered how Cicero used to send him running errands across the city and tease him for the looseness of his clothes and the length of his hair. And I recalled how the boy would steal money from me and stay out all night drinking and gambling, and yet how hard it was to feel angry with him for long. What pattern of ambition's twisting paths had brought us each to this place?
Rufus sauntered over to the witness stand. He was entirely without nerves. He might have been meeting a friend at a tavern. 'Do you have a good memory, Antonius Hybrida?'
'I do.'
'Well then, I expect you remember a slave of yours who was murdered on the eve of your consulship.'
A look of great mystification passed across Hybrida's face and he glanced across in puzzlement towards Cicero. 'I'm not sure that I do. One's had so many slaves over the years…'
'But you must remember t
his slave?' persisted Rufus. 'A Smyrnan? Twelve years old or thereabouts? His body was dumped in the Tiber. Cicero was there when his remains were discovered. His throat had been cut and his intestines removed.'
There was a gasp of horror around the court, and I felt my mouth go dry, not only at the memory of that poor lad, but at the realisation of where this chain of questioning might lead. Cicero saw it too. He jumped up in alarm and appealed to the praetor, 'This is irrelevant, surely? The death of a slave more than four years ago can have nothing to do with a lost battle on the shores of the Black Sea.'
'Let the prosecutor ask his question,' ruled Clodianus, and then added philosophically: 'I have found in life that all sorts of things are often linked.'
Hybrida was still looking hopelessly at Cicero. 'I believe perhaps I do remember something of the sort.'
'I should hope so,' responded Rufus. 'It's not every day that a human sacrifice is performed in one's presence! Even for you, I would have thought, with all your abominations, that must have been a rarity.'
'I know nothing about any human sacrifice,' muttered Hybrida.
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