Lustrum (19 page)

There was another reason for his gloom, although few would have guessed it, and he would have been embarrassed if they had. In October his daughter was to be married – an occasion, he confided to me, that he was dreading. It was not that he disliked her husband, young Gaius Frugi, of the Piso clan: on the contrary, it was Cicero, after all, who had arranged the
betrothal, years earlier, to bring in the votes of the Pisos. It was simply that he loved his little Tulliola so much that he could not bear the thought of their being parted. When, on the eve of the wedding, he saw her packing her childhood toys away as tradition demanded, tears came into his eyes and he had to leave the room. She was just fourteen. The following morning the ceremony took place in Cicero's house, and I was honoured to be asked to attend, along with Atticus and Quintus, and a whole crowd of Pisos (by heavens, what an ugly and lugubrious crowd they were!). I must confess that when Tullia was led down the stairs by her mother, all veiled and dressed in white, with her hair tied up and the sacred belt knotted around her waist, I cried myself; I cry now, remembering her girlishly solemn face as she recited that simple vow, so weighted with meaning: 'Where you are Gaius, I am Gaia.' Frugi placed the ring on her finger and kissed her very tenderly. We ate the wedding cake and offered a portion to Jupiter, and then at the wedding breakfast, while little Marcus sat on his sister's knee and tried to steal her fragrant wreath, Cicero proposed the health of the bride and groom.

'I give to you, Frugi, the best that I have to give: no nature kinder, no temper sweeter, no loyalty fiercer, no courage stronger, no—'

He could not go on, and under cover of the loud and sympathetic applause he sat down.

Afterwards, hemmed in as usual by his bodyguards, he joined the procession to Frugi's family home on the Palatine. It was a cold day. Not many people were about; few joined us. When we reached the mansion, Frugi was waiting. He hoisted his bride into his arms and, ignoring Terentia's mock entreaties, carried her over the threshold. I had one last glimpse of Tullia's wide, fearful eyes staring out at us from the interior, and then the door
closed. She was gone, and Cicero and Terentia were left to walk slowly home in silence, hand in hand.

That night, sitting at his desk before he went to bed, Cicero remarked for the twentieth time on how empty the place seemed without her. 'Only one small member of the household gone, and yet how diminished it is! Do you remember how she used to play at my feet, Tiro, when I was working? Just here.' He gently tapped his foot against the floor beneath his table. 'How often did she serve as the first audience for my speeches – poor uncomprehending creature! Well, there it is. The years sweep us on like leaves before a gale, and it cannot be helped.'

Those were his last words to me that evening. He went off to his bed and I, after I had blown out the candles in the study, retired to mine. I said good night to the guards in the atrium and carried my lamp to my tiny room. I placed it on the night-stand beside my cot, undressed, and lay awake as usual thinking over the events of the day, until slowly I felt my mind beginning to dissolve into sleep.

It was midnight – very quiet.

I was woken by fists pounding on the front door. I sat up with a start. I could only have been asleep for a few moments. The distant hammering came again, followed by ferocious barking, shouts and running feet. I seized my tunic and pulled it on as I hurried into the atrium. Cicero, fully dressed, was already descending the stairs from his bedroom, preceded by two guards with drawn swords. Behind him, wrapped in a shawl, was Terentia, with her hair in curlers. The banging resumed again, sharper now – sticks or shoes beating against the heavy wood. Little Marcus started howling in the nursery. 'Go and ask who
it is,' Cicero told me, 'but don't open the door,' and then, to one of the knights: 'Go with him.'

Cautiously I advanced along the passage. We had a guard dog by this time – a massive black and brown mountain dog named Sargon, after the Assyrian kings. He was snarling and barking and yanking on his chain with such ferocity I thought he would tear it from the wall. I called out, 'Who's there?'

The reply was faint but audible: 'Marcus Licinius Crassus!'

Above the noise of the dog I called to Cicero: 'He says it's Crassus!'

'And is it?'

'It sounds like him.'

Cicero thought about it for a moment. I guessed he was calculating that Crassus would cheerfully see him dead, but also that it was hardly likely that a man of Crassus's eminence would try to murder a serving consul. He drew back his shoulders and smoothed down his hair. 'Well then, if he says it's Crassus, and it sounds like Crassus, you'd better let him in.'

I opened the door a crack to see a group of a dozen men holding torches. The bald head of Crassus shone in the yellow light like a harvest moon. I opened the door wider. Crassus eyed the snarling dog with distaste, then edged past it into the house. He was carrying a scruffy leather document case. Behind him came his usual shadow, the former praetor Quintus Arrius, and two young patricians, friends of Crassus who had only lately taken their seats in the senate – Claudius Marcellus and Scipio Nasica, whose names had featured on the most recent list of Catilina's potential sympathisers. Their escort tried to follow them in but I told them to wait outside: four enemies at one time was quite enough, I decided. I relocked the door.

'So what's all this about, Crassus?' asked Cicero as his old foe
stepped into the atrium. 'It's too late for a social call and too early for business.'

'Good evening, Consul.' Crassus nodded coldly. 'And good evening to you, madam,' he said to Terentia. 'Our apologies for disturbing you. Don't let us keep you from your bed.' He turned his back on her and said to Cicero, 'Is there somewhere private we can talk?'

'I'm afraid my friends get nervous if I leave their sight.'

'Are you suggesting we're assassins?'

'No, but you keep company with assassins.'

'Not any longer,' said Crassus with a thin smile, and patted his document case. 'That's why we're here.'

Cicero hesitated. 'All right, in private, then.' Terentia started to protest. 'Don't alarm yourself, my dear. My guards will be right outside the door, and the strong arm of Tiro will be there to protect me.' (This was a joke.)

He ordered some chairs to be taken to his study, and the six of us just about managed to squeeze into it. I could see that Cicero was nervous. There was something about Crassus that always made his flesh crawl. Still, he was polite enough. He asked his visitors if they would like some wine, but they declined. 'Very well,' he said. 'Sober is better than drunk. Out with it.'

'There's trouble brewing in Etruria,' began Crassus.

'I know the reports. But as you saw when I tried to raise the matter, the senate won't take it seriously.'

'Well, they need to wake up quickly.'

'You've certainly changed your tune!'

'That's because I've come into possession of certain facts. Tell him, Arrius.'

'Well,' said Arrius, looking shifty. He was a clever fellow, an old soldier, low-born, and Crassus's creature in all matters. He
was much mocked behind his back for his silly way of speaking, adding an 'h' to some of his vowels, presumably because he thought it made him sound educated. 'I was in Hetruria up till yesterday. There are bands of fighters gathering right across the region. I hunderstand they're planning to hadvance on Rome.'

'How do you know that?'

'I served with several of the ringleaders in the legions. They tried to persuade me to join them, and I let them think I might – purely to gather hintelligence, you hunderstand,' he added quickly.

'How many of these fighters are there?'

'I should say five thousand, maybe ten.'

'As many as that?'

'If there aren't that many now, there will be soon enough.'

'Are they armed?'

'Some. Not all. They have a plan, though.'

'And what is this plan?'

'To surprise the garrison at Praeneste, seize the town, fortify it, and use it as a base to rally their forces.'

'Praeneste is almost impregnable,' put in Crassus, 'and less than a day's march from Rome.'

'Manlius has also sent supporters the length and breadth of Hitaly to stir up hunrest.'

'My, my,' said Cicero, looking from one to the other, 'how well informed
you
are!'

'You and I have had our disagreements, Consul,' said Crassus coldly, 'but I'm a loyal citizen, first and last. I don't want to see a civil war. That's why we're here.' He placed the document case on his lap, opened it and pulled out a bundle of letters. 'These messages were delivered to my house earlier this evening. One was addressed to me; two others were for my friends here,
Marcellus and young Scipio, who happened to be dining with me. The rest are addressed to various other members of the senate. As you can see, the seals on those are still unbroken. Here you are. I want there to be no secrets between us. Read the one that came for me.'

Cicero gave him a suspicious look, glanced through the letter quickly and then handed it to me. It was very short:
The time for talking is over. The moment for action has arrived. Catilina has drawn up his plans. He wishes to warn you there will be bloodshed in Rome. Spare yourself and leave the city secretly. When it is safe to return, you will be contacted.
There was no signature. The handwriting was neat and entirely without character: a child could have done it.

'You see why I felt we had to come straight away,' said Crassus. 'I've always been a supporter of Catilina. But we want no part of this.'

Cicero put his chin in his hand and said nothing for a while. He looked from Marcellus to Scipio. 'And the warnings to you both? Are they exactly the same?' The two young senators nodded. 'Anonymous?' More nods. 'And you've no idea who they're from?' They shook their heads. For two such arrogant young Roman noblemen, they were as docile as lambs.

'The identity of the sender is a mystery,' declared Crassus. 'My doorkeeper brought the letters in to us when we'd finished dinner. He didn't see who delivered them – they were left on the step and whoever was the courier ran away. Naturally Marcellus and Scipio read theirs at the same time as I read mine.'

'Naturally. May I see the other messages?'

Crassus reached into his document case and gave him the unopened letters one at a time. Cicero examined each address in turn and showed it to me. I remember a Claudius, an Aemilius,
a Valerius and others of that ilk, including Hybrida: about eight or nine in total; all patricians.

'He seems to be warning his hunting companions,' said Cicero, 'for old times' sake. It's strange, is it not, that they should all be sent to you? Why is that, do you think?'

'I have no idea.'

'It's certainly an odd conspiracy that approaches a man who says he doesn't even belong to it and asks him to act as its messenger.'

'I can't pretend to explain it.'

'Perhaps it's a hoax.'

'Perhaps. But when one considers the alarming developments in Etruria, and then remembers how close Catilina is to Manlius … No, I think one has to take it seriously. I fear I owe you an apology, Consul. It seems Catilina may be a menace to the republic after all.'

'He's a menace to everyone.'

'Anything I can do to help – you have only to ask.'

'Well, for a start, I'll need those letters, all of them.'

Crassus exchanged looks with his companions, but then he stuffed the letters into the document case and gave it to Cicero. 'You'll be producing them in the senate, I assume?'

'I think I must, don't you? I'll also need Arrius to make a statement about what he's discovered in Etruria. Will you do that, Arrius?'

Arrius looked to Crassus for guidance. Crassus gave a slight nod. 'Habsolutely,' he confirmed.

Crassus said, 'And you'll be seeking the senate's authority to raise an army?'

'Rome must be protected.'

'May I just say that if you require a commander for such a
force, you need look no further? Don't forget I was the one who put down the revolt of Spartacus. I can put down the revolt of Manlius just as well.'

As Cicero afterwards observed, the brazenness of the man was astonishing. Having helped create the danger in the first place by supporting Catilina, he now hoped to claim the credit for destroying it! Cicero made a non-committal reply, to the effect that it was rather late at night to be imagining armies into being and appointing generals, and that he would like to sleep on matters before deciding how to respond.

'But when you make your statement, you'll give me credit for my patriotism in coming forward, I hope?'

'You may rely on it,' said Cicero, ushering him out of the study and into the atrium, where the guards were waiting.

'If there's anything more I can do …' said Crassus.

'Actually there is one matter I'd appreciate your help on,' said Cicero, who never missed an opportunity to press home an advantage. 'This prosecution of Murena, if it succeeds, would rob us of a consul at a very dangerous moment. Will you join Hortensius and me in defending him?'

Of course this was the last thing Crassus wanted to do, but he made the best of it. 'It would be an honour.'

The two men shook hands. 'I cannot tell you,' said Cicero, 'how pleased I am that any misunderstandings that may have existed between us in the past are now cleared up.'

'I feel exactly the same, my dear Cicero. This has been a good night for both of us – and an ever better night for Rome.'

And with many mutual protestations of friendship, trust and regard, Cicero conducted Crassus and his companions to the door, bowed to him, wished him a sound night's sleep, and promised to talk to him in the morning.

'What a complete and utter lying shit that bastard is!' he exclaimed the moment the door had closed.

'You don't believe him?'

'What? That Arrius just happened to be in Etruria and by chance fell into idle conversation with men who are taking up arms against the state and who then on a whim urged him to join them? No I don't. Do you?'