Imperium

Cicero sat back and smiled at Crassus; Crassus smiled in return. Time went on. I felt myself begin to sweat. It became a contest to see whose smile would crack first. Eventually Crassus stood and held out his hand to Cicero. “Thank you so much for coming, my young friend,” he said.

WHEN THE SENATE MET a few days later to determine honors, Cicero voted with the majority to deny Crassus a triumph. The vanquisher of Spartacus had to settle for an ovation, an altogether second-class award. Rather than entering the city riding on a chariot drawn by four horses, he would have to walk in on foot; the customary fanfare of trumpets would be replaced by the trilling of flutes; and instead of the usual wreath of laurel he would be permitted to wear only myrtle. “If the man has any sense of honor,” said Cicero, “he will turn it down.” I need hardly add that Crassus quickly sent word of his acceptance.

Once the discussion moved on to honors for Pompey, Afranius pulled a clever trick. He used his praetorian rank to rise early in the debate and declare that Pompey would accept with humble gratitude whatever the house chose to grant him: he would be arriving outside the city with ten thousand men the following day and hoped to thank as many of the senators in person as possible. Ten thousand men? After that, even the aristocrats were unwilling publicly to snub the conqueror of Spain, and the consuls were instructed by a unanimous vote to attend on Pompey at his earliest convenience and offer him a full triumph.

The next morning Cicero dressed with even more care than usual and consulted with Quintus and Lucius as to what line he should take in his discussions with Pompey. He decided on a bold approach. The following year he would be thirty-six, just eligible to stand for an aedileship of Rome, of which four were elected a

After that was settled, we joined the throngs of citizens heading west toward the Field of Mars, where it was rumored that Pompey intended to halt his legions. (It was, at least in those days, illegal to possess military imperium within the sacred boundaries of Rome, thus both Crassus and Pompey were obliged, if they wanted to keep command of their armies, to do their scheming from beyond the city’s walls.) There was intense interest in seeing what the great man looked like, for the Roman Alexander, as Pompey’s followers called him, had been away fighting for nearly seven years. Some wondered how much he might have changed; others-of whom I was one-had never set eyes on him at all. Cicero had already heard from Palicanus that Pompey intended to set up his headquarters in the Villa Publica, the government guest house next to the voting enclosures, and that was where we made for-Cicero, Quintus, Lucius, and I.

The place was encircled with a double cordon of soldiers, and by the time we had fought our way through the crowds to the perimeter wall, no one was being allowed into the grounds without authorization. Cicero was most offended that none of the guards had ever heard of him, and we were lucky that Palicanus was at that moment passing close to the gate and was able to fetch his son-in-law, the legio

“Pompey the Great arrived in the middle of the night,” Palicanus informed us, adding grandly: “The consuls are with him now.” He promised to return with more information as soon as he had any, then disappeared, self-importantly, between the sentries into the House.

Several hours passed, during which there was no further sign of Palicanus. Instead we noted the messengers rushing in and out; hungrily witnessed food being delivered; saw the consuls leave, and then watched Catulus and Isauricus, the elder statesmen, arrive. Waiting senators, knowing Cicero to be a fervent partisan of Pompey and believing him to be in his i

I hung around the crowded entrance, trying to see over all the jostling. A messenger came out and briefly left the door half open, and for a moment I glimpsed white-robed figures, laughing and talking, standing around a heavy marble table with documents spread across it. But then I was distracted by a commotion from the street. With shouts of “Hail, Imperator!” the gate was swung open and, flanked by bodyguards, in stepped Crassus. He took off his plumed helmet and handed it to one of his lictors, wiped his forehead, and looked around him. His gaze fell upon Cicero. He gave him a slight nod accompanied by another of his plain man’s smiles, and that was one of the few occasions, I should say, when Cicero was entirely lost for words. Then Crassus swept his scarlet cloak around him-rather magnificently, it must be admitted-and marched into the Villa Publica, while Cicero plonked down heavily on his stool.

I have frequently observed this curious aspect of power, that it is often when one is physically closest to its source that one is least well-informed as to what is actually going on. For example, I have seen senators obliged to step out of the Senate chamber and dispatch their slaves to the vegetable market to find out what was happening in the city they were supposedly ru

“It is bad,” said Quintus, although one could already tell that from his face. “Pompey for consul and the rights of the tribunes restored, and with no opposition to be offered by the aristocrats. But in return-listen to this-in return Hortensius and Quintus Metellus are to be consuls in the following year, with the full support of Pompey, while Lucius Metellus is to replace Verres as governor of Sicily. Finally, Crassus-Crassus!-is to rule with Pompey as joint consul, and both their armies to be dissolved on the day they take office.”

“But I should have been in there,” said Cicero, staring with dismay at the villa. “I should have been in there!”

“Marcus,” said his brother sadly, putting his hand on his shoulder, “none of them would have you.”

Cicero looked stu

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