“That is absolutely so,” said Cicero.
“It is so,” said Marcellus.
“It is so,” said Metellus Scipio.
“Then, Cato, do you wish to take this matter any further?’’ asked Crassus, who detested Cato.
“No, Marcus Crassus, I do not. It is clearly a fabrication.”
“Does the House agree?” Crassus demanded.
A show of hands revealed that the House agreed.
“Which means,’’ said Catulus, “that our dear Marcus Crassus is a big enough fish to spit out the hook without even tearing his mouth. But I have the same accusation to level at a much smaller fish! I accuse Gaius Julius Caesar of being party to the conspiracy of Catilina!”
“And I join with Quintus Lutatius Catulus in leveling that accusation!” roared Gaius Calpurnius Piso.
“Evidence?’’ asked Caesar, not even bothering to get up.
“Evidence will be forthcoming,” said Catulus smugly.
“What does it consist of? Letters? Verbal messages? Sheer imagination?”
“Letters!” said Gaius Piso.
“Then where are these letters?” asked Caesar, unruffled. “To whom are they addressed, if I am supposed to have written them? Or are you having trouble forging my handwriting, Catulus?’’.
“It’s correspondence between you and Catilina!” cried Catulus.
“I think I did write to him once,” said Caesar pensively. “It would have been when he was propraetor in Africa Province. But I definitely haven’t written to him since.”
“You have, you have!” said Piso, grinning. “We’ve got you, Caesar, wriggle how you like! We’ve got you!”
“Actually,” said Caesar, “you haven’t, Piso. Ask Marcus Cicero what help I gave his case against Catilina.”
“Don’t bother, Piso,” said Quintus Arrius. “I am happy to tell what Marcus Cicero can confirm. Caesar asked me to go to Etruria and talk to the Sullan veterans around Faesulae. He knew no one else of sufficient standing had their trust, which is why he asked me. I was happy to oblige him, though I kicked my own arse for not thinking of it for myself. I didn’t think. It takes a man like Caesar to see events clearly. If Caesar was a part of the conspiracy, he would never have acted.”
“Quintus Arrius speaks the truth,” said Cicero.
“So sit down and shut up, the pair of you!” Caesar snapped. “If a better man beat you in the election for Pontifex Maximus, Catulus, then accept it! And, Piso, it must have cost you a large fortune to bribe your way out of conviction in my court! But why paint yourselves in shabby colors out of simple spite? This House knows you, this House knows what you’re capable of!”
There might have been more to say on that subject, save that a messenger came sprinting to inform Cicero that a band of freedmen belonging to Cethegus and Lentulus Sura were recruiting through the city with some success, and that when they had sufficient men they intended to attack the houses of Lucius Caesar and Cornificius, rescue Lentulus Sura and Cethegus, set them up as consuls, then rescue the other prisoners and take over the city.
“This kind of thing,” said Cicero, “is going to go on until the trials are over! Months of it, Conscript Fathers, months of it! Start thinking how we can reduce the time, I beg you!”
He dissolved the meeting and had his praetors call up the city militia; detachments were sent to all the houses of the custodians, every important public place was garrisoned, and a group of knights of the Eighteen, including Atticus, went to the Capitol to defend Jupiter Optimus Maximus.
“Oh, Terentia, I don’t want my year as consul to end in uncertainty and possible failure, not after such a triumph!” cried Cicero to his wife when he got home.
“Because while ever those men are inside Rome and Catilina in Etruria with an army, the whole thing still hangs in the balance,” she said.
“Exactly, my dear.”
“And you will end like Lucullus—do all the hard work, then see Silanus and Murena take the credit because they’ll be the consuls when it’s finally concluded.”
Actually that hadn’t occurred to him, but as his wife said it so succinctly, he shuddered. Yes, that was how it would turn out, all right! Cheated by time and tradition.
“Well,” he said, squaring his shoulders, “if you will excuse my absence from the dining room, I think I must retire to my study and lock myself in until I can come up with an answer.”
“You know the answer already, husband. However, I understand. What you need to do is screw up your courage. While you attempt that, keep it in your mind that the Bona Dea is on your side.”
*
“Rot them, I say!” said Crassus to Caesar, quite violently for such a placid man. “At least half of those fellatores sat there hoping Tarquinius would make his charges stick! Lucky for me that it was my doorstep Quintus Curius chose for his batch of letters! Otherwise, today I would have been in serious trouble.”
“My defense was more tenuous,” said Caesar, “but happily so were the accusations. Stupid! Catulus and Piso only got the idea to accuse me when Tarquinius accused you. Had they thought of it last night, they could have forged some letters. Or else they should have said nothing until they managed to forge letters.
“One of the few things which always cheer me up, Marcus, is how thick one’s enemies are! I find it a great consolation that I will never meet an adversary as clever as I am myself.”
Though he was used to Caesar’s making statements like that, Crassus nonetheless found himself staring at the younger man with fascination. Did he never doubt himself? If he did, Crassus had never seen a sign of it. Just as well he was a cool man, Caesar. Otherwise Rome might find herself wishing for a thousand Catilinas.
“I’m not attending tomorrow,” said Crassus then.
“I wish you would! It promises to be interesting.”
“I don’t care if it’s more riveting than two perfectly matched gladiators! Cicero can have his glory. Pater patriae! Tchah!” he snorted.
“Oh, Cato was being sarcastic, Marcus!”
“I know that, Caesar! What annoys me is that Cicero took him literally.”
“Poor man. It must be awful always to have to stand on the outside looking in.”
“Are you feeling all right, Caesar? Pity? You?”
“Oh, I have a streak of pity occasionally. That Cicero rouses it is no mystery. He’s such a vulnerable target.”
*
Despite his having to organize the militia and think of how to extract himself from the dilemma of time, Cicero had also given thought to turning the temple of Concord into a more acceptable venue for the Senate to occupy. Thus when the senators turned up at dawn on the following day, the fifth one of December, they found that carpenters had toiled to some effect. There were three tiers on either side, taller but narrower, and a dais at the end for the curule magistrates, with a bench in front of it for the tribunes of the plebs.
“You won’t be able to sit on your stools, the tiers are too narrow, but you can use the tiers themselves as seats,” said the senior consul. He pointed to the top of the side and end walls. “I’ve also installed plenty of ventilators.”
Perhaps three hundred men had come, a few less than on the earlier days; after a short interval of settling like hens in a roost, the Senate indicated it was ready for the day’s business.
“Conscript Fathers,” said Cicero solemnly, “I have convened this body yet again to discuss something we dare not put off, nor turn away from. Namely, what to do with our five prisoners.
“In many ways the situation resembles the one which existed thirty-seven years ago, after Saturninus and his rebel confederates surrendered their occupation of the Capitol. No one knew what to do with them! No one was willing to take custody of such desperate fellows when the city of Rome was known to harbor many sympathizers—the house of a man agreeing to take custody might burn to the ground, he himself die, his prisoner be freed. So in the end the traitor Saturninus and his fourteen senior henchm
en were locked up in our beloved Senate House, the Curia Hostilia. No windows, solid bronze doors. Impregnable. Then a group of slaves led by one Scaeva mounted the roof, tore off the tiles and used them to kill the men inside. A deplorable deed—but a great relief too! Once Saturninus was dead, Rome calmed down and the trouble went away. I admit the presence of Catilina in Etruria is an additional complication, but first and foremost we need to calm the city of Rome!”
Cicero paused, knowing perfectly well that some of the men who listened were among the band Sulla had urged up onto the Curia Hostilia roof, and that no slaves had been among them. The owner of the slave Scaeva had been there, Quintus—Croton?—and after the tumult had died down enough to be deemed well and truly over, Croton had freed Scaeva with lavish public praise for his deed—and thereby shifted the blame. A story Sulla never denied, most especially after he became Dictator. Slaves were so handy!
“Conscript Fathers,” said Cicero sternly, “we are sitting on a volcano! Five men lie under arrest in various houses, five men who in front of you and inside this House broke down and freely confessed to all their crimes. Confessed to high treason! Yes, they convicted themselves out of their own mouths after seeing proof so concrete its mere existence damned them! And as they confessed they also damned other men, men now under warrants for capture whenever and wherever they might be found. Consider then what will happen when they are found. We will have anything up to twenty men in custody in ordinary Roman houses until they have undergone the full and atrociously slow trial process.
“Yesterday we saw one of the evils arising from this awful situation. A group of men banded together and managed to recruit more men so that our self-confessed traitors might be freed from custody, the consuls murdered, and them installed as consuls instead! In other words, the revolution is going to go on while ever self-confessed traitors remain inside Rome and the army of Catilina remains inside Italia. By quick action, I averted yesterday’s attempt. But I will remain consul for less than another month. Yes, Conscript Fathers, the annual upheaval is almost upon us, and we are not in fit condition to deal with a change in magistrates.
“My chief ambition is to depart from office, with the city’s end of this catastrophe properly tidied up, thereby spelling to Catilina the very clear message that he has no allies inside Rome with power enough to help him. And there is a way….”
The senior consul stopped for that to sink in, wishing that his old enemy and friend Hortensius was in the House. Hortensius would see the beauty of the argument, whereas most of the others would see only the expedience. As for Caesar, well… Cicero wasn’t even sure he cared to receive Caesar’s approbation, as lawyer or man. Crassus hadn’t bothered to come, and he was the last of the men Cicero cared to impress with his legal reasoning.
“Until Catilina and Manlius are defeated or surrender, Rome continues to exist under the martial law of a Senatus Consultum Ultimum. Just as Rome still lay under a Senatus Consultum Ultimum when Saturninus and his minions perished in the Curia Hostilia. It meant that no one could be held accountable for taking matters to their inevitable end and executing those rebels. The Senatus Consultum Ultimum extended indemnity to all who participated in the throwing of the tiles, slaves though they were, for a slave’s master is accountable at law for his slave’s actions, therefore all the men who owned those slaves could have faced prosecution for murder. Except for the Senatus Consultum Ultimum. The blanket decree which in a state of emergency the Senate of Rome is authorized to issue in order to preserve the well-being of the State, no matter what it takes to preserve that well-being.
“Consider our self-confessed traitors here in Rome, plus the other traitors we are looking for because they fled before they could be apprehended. All guilty out of the mouths of the five men we have in custody, not to mention the testimony you have heard from Quintus Curius, Titus Volturcius, Lucius Tarquinius and Brogus of the Allobroges. Under the conditions of an existing Senatus Consultum Ultimum, these self-confessed traitors do not have to be tried. Because at present we are in the midst of a dire emergency, this august body of men, the Senate of Rome, has been empowered to do whatever is necessary to preserve the well-being of Rome. To keep these men in custody pending a trial process and then have to air them in the public Forum during that trial is tantamount to stirring up a fresh rebellion! Especially if Catilina and Manlius, formally declared public enemies, are still at liberty in Italia with an army. That army could even descend on our city in an attempt to free the traitors during their trials!”
Did he have them? Yes, decided Cicero. Until he looked at Caesar, who was sitting very straight on the bottom step, mouth thin, two spots of scarlet burning in his pale cheeks. He would meet opposition from Caesar, a very great speaker. Urban praetor-elect, which meant he would speak early unless the order changed.
He had to ram his point home before Caesar spoke! But how? Cicero’s eyes wandered along the back tier behind Caesar until they lighted upon little old Gaius Rabirius, in the Senate for forty years without ever once standing for a magistracy, which meant he was still a pedarius. The quintessential backbencher. Not that Rabirius was the sum of all manly virtues! Thanks to many shady deals and immoralities, Rabirius was little loved by most of Rome. He was also one of that band of noblemen who had sneaked onto the Curia Hostilia roof, torn off the tiles, shelled Saturninus….
“If this body were to decide the fate of the five men in our custody and of those men who fled, its members would be as free from legal blame as—as—why, trying to arraign dear Gaius Rabirius on charges that he murdered Saturninus! Manifestly ridiculous, Conscript Fathers. The Senatus Consultum Ultimum covers all, and allows all too. I am going to advocate that in full debate this House should reach a decision today on the fate of our five self-confessed prisoners, guilty out of their own mouths. To hold them for trial would, in my opinion, be to imperil Rome. Let us debate here today and decide what to do with them under the existing blanket protection of the Senatus Consultum Ultimum! Under that decree we can order them executed. Or we can order them into a permanent exile, confiscate their property, forbid them fire and water within Italia for the rest of their lives.”
He drew a breath, wondering about Cato, also sure to oppose it. Yes, Cato sat rigid and glaring. But as a tribune of the plebs-elect, he was very far down the speaking hierarchy indeed.
“Conscript Fathers, it is not my business to make a decision on this matter. I have done my duty in outlining the legalities of the situation to you, and in informing you what you can do under a Senatus Consultum Ultimum. Personally I am in favor of a decision here today, not a trial process. But I refuse to indicate exactly what this body should do with the guilty men. That is better from some other man than I.”
A pause, a challenging look at Caesar, another at Cato. “I direct that the order of speaking be not in elected magistracy, but in age and wisdom and experience. Therefore I will ask the senior consul-elect to speak first, then the junior consul-elect, after which I will ask an opinion from every consular present here today. Fourteen all told, by my count. After which the praetors-elect will speak, beginning with the urban praetor-elect, Gaius Julius Caesar. Following the praetors-elect, the praetors will speak, then aediles-elect and aediles, plebeian ahead of curule. After which it will be the turn of the tribunes of the plebs-elect, and finally the current tribunes of the plebs. I pend a decision on ex-praetors, as I have already enumerated sixty speakers, though three current praetors are in the field against Catilina and Manlius. Therefore I make it fifty-seven speakers without calling on ex-praetors.”
“Fifty-eight, Marcus Tullius.” How could he have overlooked Metellus Celer, urban praetor?
“Ought you not to be in Picenum with an army?”
“If you recollect, Marcus Tullius, you yourself deputed me to Picenum on the condition that I returned to Rome every eleventh day, and for twelve days around the tribunician changeover.”
“So I did. Fifty-eight speakers, then. That means no
one has the time at his disposal to make a reputation as a dazzling orator, is that understood? This debate must finish today! I want to see a division before the sun sets. Therefore I give you fair warning, Conscript Fathers, that I will cut you short if you start to orate.” Cicero looked at Silanus, senior consul-elect.
“Decimus Junius, begin the debate.”
“Mindful of your caution about time, Marcus Tullius, I will be brief,” said Silanus, sounding a little helpless; the man who spoke first was supposed to set the tenor and carry all succeeding speakers his way. Cicero could do it, always. But Silanus wasn’t sure he could, especially because he had no idea which way the House would go on this issue.
Cicero had made it as plain as he dared that he was advocating the death penalty—but what did everybody else want? So in the end Silanus compromised by advocating “the extreme penalty,” which everybody assumed was death. He managed not to mention a trial process in any way whatsoever, which everybody took to mean that there should be no trial process.
Then came Murena’s turn; he too favored “the extreme penalty.”
Cicero of course didn’t speak, and Gaius Antonius Hybrida was in the field. Thus the next in line was the Leader of the House, Mamercus Princeps Senatus, senior among the consulars. Uncomfortably he elected “the extreme penalty.” Then the consulars who had been censors—Gellius Poplicola, Catulus, Vatia Isauricus, a worried Lucius Cotta—”the extreme penalty.” After which came consulars who had not been censors, in order of seniority—Curio, the two Luculli, Piso, Glabrio, Volcatius Tullus, Torquatus, Marcius Figulus. “The extreme penalty.” Very properly, Lucius Caesar abstained.
So far so good. Now it was Caesar’s turn, and since few knew his views as well as Cicero did, what he had to say came as a surprise to many. Including, it was plain to see, Cato, who had not looked for such a disconcerting, unwelcome ally.
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