Imperium - Харрис Роберт - Страница 63

Quintus spent a long time that winter compiling an Election Handbook, a distillation of his fraternal advice to Cicero, which he liked to quote from whenever possible, as if it were Plato’s Republic. “Consider what city this is,” it began, “what it is you seek, and who you are. Every day, when you go down to the Forum, repeat to yourself: ‘I am a new man. I seek the consulship. This is Rome.’” I can still recall some of the other little homilies it preached. “All things are full of deceit, snares, and treachery. Hold fast to the saying of Epicharmus, that the bone and sinew of wisdom is ‘Never trust rashly.’” “See to it that you show off both the variety and number of your friends.” “I am very anxious that you should always have a crowd about you.” “If someone asks you to do something, do not decline, even if you cannot do it.” “Lastly, see that your canvass is a fine show, brilliant, resplendent, and popular; and also, if it can be managed, that there should be scandalous talk about the crimes, lusts, and briberies of your competitors.”

Quintus was very proud of his Handbook, and many years later he actually had it published, much to the horror of Cicero, who believed that political mastery, like great art, depends for its effects on the concealment of all the cunning which lies behind it.

IN THE SPRING TERENTIA celebrated her thirtieth birthday and Cicero arranged a small dinner party in her honor. Quintus and Pomponia came, and Frugi and his parents, and fussy Servius Sulpicius and his unexpectedly pretty wife, Postumia; there must have been others, but the flow of time has washed them from my memory. The household was assembled briefly by Eros the steward to convey our good wishes, and I remember thinking, when Terentia appeared, that I had never seen her looking quite so fine, or in a more cheerful mood. Her short, dark curly hair was lustrous, her eyes bright, and her normally bony frame seemed fuller and softer. I said as much to her maid after the master and mistress had led their guests in to dinner, at which she glanced around to check that no one was observing us, linked her hands, and made a circular gesture outward over her stomach. At first I did not understand, which gave her a fit of the giggles, and it was only after she had run back upstairs, still laughing, that I realized what a fool I had been; and not just me, of course. A normal husband would surely have noticed the symptoms sooner, but Cicero was invariably up at dawn and back at dusk, and even then there was always a speech to write or a letter to be sent-the miracle was that he should have found time to perform his conjugal duties at all. Anyway, midway through the dinner, a loud shout of excitement, followed by applause, confirmed that Terentia had taken the opportunity of the celebration to announce her pregnancy.

Later that evening, Cicero came into the study with a wide smile. He acknowledged my congratulations with a bow. “She is certain it is a boy. Apparently, the Good Goddess has informed her of the fact, by means of certain supernatural signs understood only by women.” He rubbed his hands vigorously in anticipation; he really could not stop smiling. “Always a wonderful addition at election time, Tiro, a baby-suggestive of a virile candidate, and a respectable family man. Talk to Quintus about scheduling the infant’s campaign appearances.” He pointed to my notebook. “I am joking, you idiot!” he said, seeing my dumbstruck expression, and pretended to cuff my ear. But I am undecided who it says most about, him or me, that I am still not entirely convinced he was joking.

From this time on, Terentia became much stricter in her observance of religious rituals, and on the day following her birthday she made Cicero accompany her to the Temple of Juno on Capitol Hill, where she bought a small lamb for the priest to sacrifice, in gratitude for her pregnancy and marriage. Cicero was delighted to oblige her, for he was genuinely overjoyed at the prospect of another child, and besides he knew how much the voters lapped up these public displays of piety.

AND NOW I FEAR I must return to the growing tumor that was Sergius Catilina.

A few weeks after Cicero’s summons to see Metellus Pius, that year’s consular elections were held. But such was the flagrant use of bribery by the winning ticket, the result was swiftly annulled and in October the poll was held again. On this occasion Catilina submitted his name as a candidate. Pius swiftly put a stop to his chances-I suppose it must have been the last successful battle the old warrior fought-and the Senate ruled that only those whose names were on the original ballot would be permitted to stand. This drove Catilina into one of his furies, and he began hanging around the Forum with his violent friends, making all kinds of threats, which were taken sufficiently seriously by the Senate that they voted an armed bodyguard to the consuls. Not surprisingly, no one had been brave enough to come forward and take up the Africans’ case in the extortion court. I actually suggested it to Cicero one day, wondering if it might be a popular cause for him to espouse-after all, he had brought down Verres, and that had made him the most famous advocate in the world. But Cicero shook his head. “Compared to Catilina, Verres was a kitten. Besides, Verres was not a man anyone much liked, whereas Catilina undeniably has a following.”

“Why is he so popular?” I asked.

“Dangerous men always attract a following, although that is not what concerns me. If it were simply a question of the mob in the street, he would be less of a threat. It is the fact that he has widespread aristocratic support-Catulus certainly, which probably also means Hortensius.”

“I should have thought him much too uncouth for Hortensius.”

“Oh, Hortensius knows how to make use of a street fighter when the occasion demands it. Many a cultured house is protected by a savage dog. And Catilina is also a Sergius, do not forget, so they approve of him on snobbish grounds. The masses and the aristocracy: that is a potent combination in politics. Let us hope he can be stopped in the consular elections this summer. I am only grateful that the task does not look like falling to me.”

I thought at the time that this was the sort of remark which proves there are gods, because whenever, in their celestial orbits, they hear such complacency, it amuses them to show their power. Sure enough, it was not long afterwards that Caelius Rufus brought Cicero some disturbing news. Caelius by this time was seventeen, and, as his father had stated, quite ungovernable. He was tall and well built and could easily have passed for a man in his early twenties, with his deep voice and the small goatee beard which he and his fashionable friends liked to sport. He would slip out of the house when it was dark and Cicero was preoccupied with his work and everyone else was asleep; often he would not return until just before dawn. He knew that I had a little money put by and was always pestering me to advance him small loans; one evening, after I had refused yet again, I retired to my cubicle to discover that he had found my hiding place and taken everything I possessed. I spent a miserable, sleepless night, but when I confronted him the next morning and threatened to report him to Cicero, tears came into his eyes and he promised to pay me back. And, in fairness to him, he did, and with generous interest; so I changed my hiding place and never said a word about it.

He drank and whored around the city at night with a group of very disreputable young noblemen. One of them was Gaius Curio, a twenty-year-old whose father had been consul and a great supporter of Verres. Another was Mark Antony, the nephew of Hybrida, who I reckon must then have been eighteen. But the real leader of the gang, chiefly because he was the eldest and richest and could show the others ways of getting into mischief they had never even dreamed of, was Clodius Pulcher. He was in his middle twenties and had been away for eight years on military service in the East, getting into all sorts of scrapes, including leading a mutiny against Lucullus-who also happened to be his brother-in-law-and then being captured by the very pirates he was supposed to be fighting. But now he was back in Rome, and looking to make a name for himself, and one night he announced that he knew exactly how he was going to do it-it would be a lark, a dare, risky and amusing (these were his actual words, according to Caelius)-he would prosecute Catilina.