Imperium

“Dear gods: it is a coup d’état disguised as an agrarian reform bill!” cried Cicero when we finally reached the end of my record. “This commission of ten, led by Crassus and Caesar, will be the real masters of the country; the consuls and the other magistrates will be mere ciphers. And their domination at home will be maintained in perpetuity by the proceeds of extortion abroad.” He sat back and was silent for a long while, his arms folded, his chin on his chest.

I was drained by what I had endured and longed only for sleep. Yet the early summer light now begi

He looked up at her and wearily explained what had happened. She had a very quick mind for anything political or financial-had she not been born a woman, and given her spirit, there is no telling what she might have done-and the moment she grasped it she was horrified, for Terentia was an aristocrat to her core, and to her the notion of privatizing state land and giving it to the plebs was a step on the road to the destruction of Rome.

“You must lead the fight against it,” she urged Cicero. “This could win you the election. All the decent men will rally to you.”

“Ah, but will they?” Cicero picked up one of my notebooks. “Outright opposition to this could rebound on me badly. A large faction in the Senate, half of them patriotic and the other half just plain greedy, has always favored seizing Egypt. And out on the streets, the cry of “Free farms for all!” is far more likely to gain Catilina and Hybrida votes than cost them. No, I am trapped.” He stared at the transcript of the conference and shook his head slowly, like an artist ruefully contemplating the work of some talented rival. “It really is an extraordinary scheme-a stroke of true political genius. Only Caesar could have dreamed it up. And as for Crassus-for a down payment of just twenty million, he can expect to gain control of most of Italy and the whole of Egypt. Even you would concede that that is a good return on your investment.”

“But you have to do something, ” persisted Terentia. “You ca

“And what exactly would you have me do?”

“And you are supposed to be the cleverest man in Rome?” she asked in exasperation. “Is it not obvious? Go to the Senate this morning and expose what they are plotting. Denounce them!”

“A brilliant tactic, Terentia,” responded Cicero sarcastically. (I was begi

“Well, then, you have only yourself to blame for depending on such a rabble in the first place! This is the problem with your demagoguery, Cicero-you may think you can control the mob, but the mob will always end up devouring you. Did you seriously believe you could beat men like Crassus and Catilina when it came to a public auction of principles?” Cicero grunted irritably; however I noticed he did not argue with her. “But tell me,” she continued, needling away at him, “if this ‘extraordinary scheme,’ as you call it-or ‘criminal enterprise,’ as I should prefer it-really is as popular as you say, why all this skulking around at night? Why do they not come out with it openly?”

“Because, my dear Terentia, the aristocrats think like you. They would never stand for it. First it will be the great public estates that are broken up and redistributed, next it will be their private domains. Every time Caesar and Crassus give a man a farm, they will create another client for themselves. And once the patricians start to lose control of the land, they are finished. Besides, how do you think Catulus or Hortensius would react to being ordered around by a ten-man commission elected by the people? The people! To them it would seem like a revolution-Tiberius Gracchus all over again.” Cicero threw the notebook back onto the dining table. “No, they would scheme and bribe and kill to preserve the status quo, just as they always have done.”

“And they would be right!” Terentia glowered down at him. Her fists were clenched; I almost expected her to hit him. “They were right to take away the powers of the tribunes, just as they were right to try to stop that provincial parvenu, Pompey. And if you had any sense, you would go to them now with this, and you would say to them, ‘Gentlemen, this is what Crassus and Caesar are proposing to do-support me and I shall try to put a stop to it!’”

Cicero sighed in exasperation and slumped back onto the couch. For a while he was silent. But then he suddenly glanced up at her. “By heavens, Terentia,” he said quietly, “what a clever shrew you are.” He jumped up and kissed her on the cheek. “My brilliant, clever shrew-you are quite correct. Or rather, half correct, for there is actually no need for me to do anything with it at all. I should simply pass it to Hortensius. Tiro, how long would it take you to make a fair copy of this transcript-not of all of it necessarily, just enough to whet Hortensius’s appetite?”

“A few hours,” I said, bewildered by his dramatic change of mood.

“Quick!” he said, more alive with excitement than I can ever remember seeing him. “Fetch me a pen and paper!”

I did as I was ordered. He dipped the nib in the inkpot, thought about it for a moment, and then wrote the following, as Terentia and I watched over his shoulder:

From: Marcus Tullius Cicero

To: Quintus Hortensius Hortalus

Greetings!

I feel it is my patriotic duty to share with you in confidence this record of a meeting held last night at the home of M. Crassus, involving G. Caesar, L. Catilina, G. Hybrida, P. Sura, and various candidates for the tribuneship whose names will be familiar to you. I intend to tackle certain of these gentlemen in a speech to the Senate today, and if you would care to discuss the matter further, I shall be afterwards at the home of our esteemed mutual friend T. Atticus.

“That should do the trick,” he said, blowing on the ink to dry it. “Now, Tiro, make as full a copy of your notes as you can, being sure to include all the passages which will make their blue blood run cold, and deliver it, together with my letter, personally into the hands of Hortensius-personally, mark you: not to any aide-at least an hour before the Senate meets. Also, send one of the lads with a message to Atticus, asking him to call on me before I leave.” He gave me the letter and hurried out the door.

“Do you want me to ask Sositheus or Laurea to bring in your clients?” I called after him, for by now I could hear them queuing outside in the street. “When do you want the doors opened?”

“No clients in the house this morning!” he shouted in reply, already halfway up the stairs. “They can accompany me to the Senate if they wish. You have work to do and I have a speech to compose.”

His footsteps thumped along the boards above our heads to his room and I found myself alone with Terentia. She touched her hand to her cheek where her husband had kissed her and looked at me in puzzlement. “Speech?” she said. “What speech is he talking about?”

But I had to confess that I had no idea, and thus can claim no hand in, or even prior knowledge of, that extraordinary piece of invective which all the world knows by the name of In toga candida .

I WROTE AS QUICKLY and as neatly as my tiredness would allow, setting out my document like the script of a play, with the name of the speaker first, and then his remarks. I excised a great deal of what I considered irrelevant material, but then at the end I wondered if I was really competent enough to judge. Therefore I decided to keep my notebooks with me, in case I might need to refer to them during the day. Once it was done, I sealed it and placed it in a cylinder, and set off. I had to push my way through the throng of clients and well-wishers blocking the street, who clutched at my tunic and demanded to know when the senator would appear.

Hortensius’s house on the Palatine was subsequently bought, many years later, by our dear and beloved emperor, so that gives you an idea of how fine it was. I had never been to it before and I had to stop several times and ask for directions. It was right at the top of the hill, on the southwestern side overlooking the Tiber, and one might have been in the country rather than the city, with its view over the dark green trees to the gentle silver curve of the river and the fields beyond. His brother-in-law, Catulus, as I think I have mentioned, owned the house next door, and the whole spot-fragrant with the scent of honeysuckle and myrtle, and silent save for the twittering of the birds-was redolent of good taste and old money. Even the steward looked like an aristocrat, and when I said I had a personal message for his master from Senator Cicero, you might have thought I had farted, such an exquisite expression of distaste spread across his bony face at the mention of the name. He wanted to take the cylinder from me, but I refused, so he bade me wait in the atrium, where the masks of all Hortensius’s consular ancestors stared down at me with their blank, dead eyes. Displayed on a three-legged table in the corner was a sphinx, wonderfully carved from a single huge piece of ivory, and I realized that this must be the very sphinx which Verres had given to his advocate all those years ago, and which Cicero had made his joke about. I was just stooping to examine it when Hortensius came into the room behind me.

“Well,” he said, as I stood up, feeling guilty, “I never thought to see a representative of Marcus Cicero under the roof of my ancestors. What is all this about?”

He was wearing his full senatorial rig, but with slippers on his feet instead of shoes, and was obviously still getting ready to depart for the morning’s debate. It seemed strange to me, too, to see the old enemy unarmored, as it were, outside the arena. I gave him Cicero’s letter, which he broke open and read in front of me. When he saw the names it mentioned, he gave me a sharp glance, and I could tell that he was hooked, although he was too well bred to show it.