Lustrum

XVII

Despite his resentment, Cicero kept out of public life for the whole of the next month – an easy matter, as it turned out, as the senate did not meet. Bibulus locked himself away in his house and refused to move, whereupon Caesar declared that he would govern through assemblies of the people, which Vatinius, as tribune, would summon on his behalf. Bibulus retaliated by letting it be known that he was perpetually on his roof, studying the auguries, and that they were consistently unfavourable – thus no official business could legally be transacted. Caesar responded by organising noisy demonstrations in the street outside Bibulus's home, and by continuing to pass his laws via the public assemblies regardless of what his colleague said. (Cicero wittily remarked that Rome seemed to be living under the joint consulship of Julius and Caesar.) It sounded legitimate when one put it that way – governing through the people: what could be fairer? – but really 'the people' were the mob, controlled by Vatinius, and any who opposed what Caesar wanted were quickly silenced. Rome had become a dictatorship in all but name, and most respectable senators were appalled. But with Pompey and Crassus supporting Caesar, few dared speak out against him.

Cicero would have preferred to stay in his library and continue to avoid trouble. But in the midst of all this turmoil, towards the end of March, he was obliged to go down to the treason tribunal in the forum to defend Hybrida. To his huge embarrassment, the hearing was scheduled to be held in the comitium itself, just outside the senate house. The curved steps of the rostra, rising like the seats of an amphitheatre, had been cordoned off to form the court, and a large crowd was already clustered around it, eager to see what possible defence the famous orator could come up with for a client who was so manifestly guilty. 'Well, Tiro,' Cicero said to me under his breath as I opened the document case and handed him his notes, 'here is the proof that the gods have a sense of humour – that I should have to appear in this place, as the advocate for this rogue!' He turned and smiled at Hybrida, who was himself at that moment climbing laboriously up on to the platform. 'Good morning to you, Hybrida. I trust you have avoided the wine at breakfast, as you promised? We shall need to keep clear wits about us today.'

'Of course,' replied Hybrida. But it was obvious from the way he stumbled on the steps, as well as from his slurred speech, that he had not been as abstemious as he claimed.

Apart from me and his usual team of clerks, Cicero had also brought along his son-in-law, Frugi, to act as his junior. Rufus, in contrast, appeared alone, and the moment I saw him striding across the comitium towards us, with only one secretary in attendance, I felt what little confidence I had evaporate. Rufus was not yet twenty-three and had just completed a year in Africa on the staff of the governor. A youth had gone out, a man had returned, and I reckoned the contrast between this tall and sunburnt prosecutor and the fleshy, ruined Hybrida was worth a dozen jury votes even before the trial had started. Nor did Cicero come well out of the comparison. He was twice the age of Rufus, and when he went over to his opponent to shake his hand and wish him good luck, he appeared stooped and care-worn. It was like a tableau on the wall of the baths: Juventus versus Senex, with sixty jurymen arrayed in tiers behind them, and the praetor, the haughty Cornelius Lentulus Clodianus, seated between them in the judge's chair.

Rufus was called on first to lay out his case, and it was soon obvious that he had been a more attentive pupil in Cicero's chambers than any of us had realised. The burden of his prosecution was fivefold: first, that Hybrida had concentrated all his energies on extorting as much money as he could from Macedonia; second, that the revenue that should have gone to his army had been diverted into his own pocket; third, that he had neglected his duties as military commander during an expedition to the Black Sea to punish rebellious tribes; fourth, that he had demonstrated cowardice on the field of battle by fleeing from the enemy; and finally fifth, that as a result of his incompetence, the empire had lost the region around Histria on the Lower Danube. Rufus laid these charges with a mixture of moral outrage and malicious humour that was worthy of the Master at his best. I remember in particular his graphic account of Hybrida's dereliction of duty on the morning of the battle against the rebels. 'They found the man himself stretched out in a drunken stupor,' he said, walking around the back of Hybrida and gesturing to him as if he were an exhibit, 'snoring with all the force of his lungs, belching repeatedly, while the distinguished ladies who shared his quarters sprawled over every couch, and the other women were lying on the floor all around. Half dead with terror, and aware now of the enemy's approach, they tried to rouse up Hybrida; they shouted his name, and tried in vain to hoist him up by his neck; some whispered blandishments in his ear, one or two gave him an energetic slap. He recognised all their voices and their touch and tried to put his arms round the neck of whoever was nearest to him. He was too much aroused to sleep, and too drunk to stay awake; dazed and half asleep, he was thrown around in the arms of his centurions and his concubines.'

And all this, mark you, delivered without a note. It was murderous enough for the defence by itself. But the prosecution's main witnesses – including several of Hybrida's army commanders, a pair of his mistresses, and his quartermaster – were even worse. At the end of the day Cicero congratulated Rufus on his performance, and that evening he frankly advised his gloomy client to sell his property in Rome for the best price he could get, and convert his assets into jewellery or anything portable that he could carry into exile. 'You must brace yourself for the worst.'

I shall not describe all the details of the trial. Suffice it to say that even though Cicero tried every trick he knew to discredit Rufus's case, he barely left a scratch on it, and the witnesses Hybrida produced in his own defence were uniformly feeble – mostly his old drinking companions, or officials he had bribed to lie. By the end of the fourth day, the only question was: should Cicero call on Hybrida to testify, in the hope at least of eliciting some sympathy from the jury; or should Hybrida cut his losses, leave Rome quietly before the verdict, and thus spare himself the humiliation of being jeered out of the city? Cicero took Hybrida into his library to make a decision.

'What do you think I should do?' asked Hybrida.

'I would leave,' answered Cicero, who was desperate to put an end to his own ordeal. 'It's possible your testimony could make matters even worse. Why give Rufus the satisfaction?'

Hybrida broke down. 'What did I ever do to that young man that he should seek to destroy me in such a fashion?' Tears of self-pity trickled down his plump cheeks.

'Now, Hybrida, compose yourself and remember your illustrious ancestors.' Cicero reached across and patted his knee. 'Besides, it's nothing personal. He's simply a clever young man from the provinces, ambitious to rise in the world. In many ways, he reminds me of myself at that age. Unfortunately, you just happen to provide him with the best means of making his name – just as Verres did for me.'

'Damn him,' said Hybrida suddenly, straightening his back. 'I shall testify.'

'Are you certain you are up to it? Cross-examination can be a brutal business.'

'You undertook to defend me,'said Hybrida, at last showing some of his old spirit, 'and I want to put up a defence, even if I lose.'

'Very well,' said Cicero, doing his best to disguise his disappointment. 'In that case we must rehearse your testimony, and that will take us some time. Tiro, you had better bring the senator some wine.'

'No,' said Hybrida firmly. 'No wine. Not tonight. I spent my entire career drunk; I shall at least end it sober.'

And so we worked late into the night, practising what Cicero would ask and how Hybrida would respond. After that, Cicero played the part of Rufus, throwing the most unpleasant questions he could devise at his former colleague, and helping him frame the least incriminating answers. I was surprised by how quick on the uptake Hybrida was when he put his mind to it. The two men went to bed at midnight – Hybrida sleeping under Cicero's roof – and got up at dawn to resume their preparation. Afterwards, as we were walking down to the court with Hybrida and his attendants ahead of us, Cicero said, 'I begin to see why he rose so high in the first place. If only he could have shown such grip earlier, he would not now be facing ruin.'

When we reached the comitium, Hybrida called out cheerfully, 'This is how it was in the time of our joint consulship, Cicero, when we stood shoulder to shoulder to save the republic!' The two men then went up on to the platform, where the court was waiting, and when Cicero announced that he would be calling Hybrida as his final witness, a stir of antici pation ran through the jury. I saw Rufus sit forward on his bench and whisper something in the ear of his secretary, and the man picked up his stylus.

Hybrida was quickly sworn in, and Cicero took him through the questions they had rehearsed, beginning with his military experience under Sulla a quarter of a century before, and dwelling especially on his loyalty to the state at the time of Catilina's conspiracy.

'You laid aside considerations of past friendship, did you not,' asked Cicero, 'to take command of the senate's legions that finally crushed the traitor?'

'I did.'

'And you sent back the monster's head to the senate as proof of your actions?'

'I did.'

'Mark that well, gentlemen,' said Cicero, addressing the jury. 'Is that the action of a traitor? Young Rufus over there supported Catilina – let him deny it – and then fled from Rome to avoid sharing in his fate. Yet now he has the nerve to come creeping back into the city and accuse of treason the very man who rescued us from ruin!' He turned back to Hybrida. 'After crushing Catilina, you relieved me of the burden of governing Macedonia, so that I could devote myself to extinguishing the last embers of the conspiracy?'

'I did.'

And so it went on, with Cicero leading his client through his testimony like a father leading a child by the hand. He prompted him to describe how he had raised revenue in Macedonia through entirely legal means, accounted for every penny, raised and equipped two legions, and led them on a hazardous expedition eastwards through the mountains to the Black Sea. He painted a terrifying picture of warlike tribes – Getians, Bastarns, Histrians – harrying the Roman column as it marched along the Danube valley.

'The prosecution alleges that when you heard there was a large enemy force ahead, you split your force in two, taking the cavalry with you to safety and leaving the infantry undefended. Is that true?'

'Not at all.'

'You were in fact bravely pursuing the Histrian army, is that correct?'

'That's right.'

'And while you were away, the Bastarn forces crossed the Danube and attacked the infantry from the rear?'

'True.'

'And there was nothing you could do?'

'I am afraid there was not.' Hybrida lowered his head and wiped his eyes, as Cicero had instructed him.

'You must have lost many friends and comrades at the hands of the barbarians.'

'I did. A great many.'

After a long pause, during which there was complete silence in the court, Cicero turned to the jury. 'The fortunes of war, gentlemen,' he said, 'can be cruel and capricious. But that is not the same as treason.'

As he resumed his seat there was prolonged applause, not only from the crowd but among the jury, and for the first time I dared to hope that Cicero's skill as an advocate might once again have saved the day. Rufus smiled to himself and took a sip of wine and water before getting to his feet. He had an athlete's way of loosening his shoulders by linking his hands behind his head and rotating his upper torso from side to side. Watching him do it then, just before he started his cross-examination, the years seemed to fall away, and suddenly I remembered how Cicero used to send him running errands across the city and tease him for the looseness of his clothes and the length of his hair. And I recalled how the boy would steal money from me and stay out all night drinking and gambling, and yet how hard it was to feel angry with him for long. What pattern of ambition's twisting paths had brought us each to this place?

Rufus sauntered over to the witness stand. He was entirely without nerves. He might have been meeting a friend at a tavern. 'Do you have a good memory, Antonius Hybrida?'

'I do.'

'Well then, I expect you remember a slave of yours who was murdered on the eve of your consulship.'

A look of great mystification passed across Hybrida's face and he glanced across in puzzlement towards Cicero. 'I'm not sure that I do. One's had so many slaves over the years…'

'But you must remember this slave?' persisted Rufus. 'A Smyrnan? Twelve years old or thereabouts? His body was dumped in the Tiber. Cicero was there when his remains were discovered. His throat had been cut and his intestines removed.'

There was a gasp of horror around the court, and I felt my mouth go dry, not only at the memory of that poor lad, but at the realisation of where this chain of questioning might lead. Cicero saw it too. He jumped up in alarm and appealed to the praetor, 'This is irrelevant, surely? The death of a slave more than four years ago can have nothing to do with a lost battle on the shores of the Black Sea.'

'Let the prosecutor ask his question,' ruled Clodianus, and then added philosophically: 'I have found in life that all sorts of things are often linked.'

Hybrida was still looking hopelessly at Cicero. 'I believe perhaps I do remember something of the sort.'

'I should hope so,' responded Rufus. 'It's not every day that a human sacrifice is performed in one's presence! Even for you, I would have thought, with all your abominations, that must have been a rarity.'

'I know nothing about any human sacrifice,' muttered Hybrida.

'Catilina did the killing, and then required you and others present to swear an oath.'

'Did he?' Hybrida screwed up his face as if he were trying to remember some long-forgotten acquaintance. 'No, I don't think so. No, you are mistaken.'

'Yes he did. You swore an oath on the blood of that slaughtered child to murder your own colleague as consul – the man who now sits beside you as your advocate!'

These words produced a fresh sensation, and when the cries had died away, Cicero got up. 'Really, this is a pity,' he said, with a regretful shake of his head, 'a great pity, because my young friend was not doing a bad job as prosecutor up to this moment – he was my pupil once, gentlemen, so actually I flatter myself as well as him by conceding it. Unfortunately now he has gone and ruined his own case with an insane allegation. I fear I shall have to take him back to the classroom.'

'I know it is true, Cicero,' retorted Rufus, smiling even more broadly, 'because you told me about it yourself.'

For the barest flicker of an instant, Cicero hesitated, and I saw to my horror that he had forgotten his conversation with Rufus all those years ago. 'You ungrateful wretch,' he spluttered. 'I did no such thing.'

'In the first week of your consulship,' said Rufus, 'two days after the Latin Festival you called me to your house and asked if Catilina had ever talked in my presence of killing you. You told me that Hybrida had confessed to swearing an oath with Catilina on a murdered boy to do precisely that. You asked me to keep my ears open.'

'That is a complete lie!' shouted Cicero, but his bluster did little to dispel the effect of Rufus's cool and precise recollection.

'This is the man you took into your confidence as consul,' continued Rufus, with deadly calmness, pointing at Hybrida. 'This is the man you foisted on the people of Macedonia as their governor – a man you knew to have taken part in a bestial murder, and who had desired your own death. And yet this is the man you defend today. Why?'

'I don't have to answer your questions, boy.'

Rufus strolled over to the jury. 'That is the question, gentlemen: why does Cicero, of all men, who made his reputation attacking corrupt provincial governors, now destroy his good name by defending this one?'

Once again Cicero stretched out a hand to the praetor. 'Clodianus, I am asking you, for heaven's sake, to control your court. This is supposed to be a cross-examination of my client, not a speech about me.'

'That is true, Rufus,' said the praetor. 'Your questions must relate to the case in hand.'

'But they do. My case is that Cicero and Hybrida came to an agreement.'

Cicero said, 'There is no proof of that.'

'Yes there is,' retorted Rufus. 'Less than a year after you dispatched Hybrida to the long-suffering people of Macedonia, you bought yourself a new house – there!' He gestured to it, gleaming on the Palatine in the spring sunshine, and the jurymen all turned their heads to look. 'One much like it sold soon afterwards for fourteen million sesterces. Fourteen million! Ask yourselves, gentlemen: where did Cicero, who prided himself on his humble origins, acquire such a fortune, if not from the man he both blackmailed and protected, Antonius Hybrida? Is that not the truth,' he demanded, turning back to the accused, 'that you diverted part of the money you extorted from your province to your partner in crime in Rome?'

'No, no,' protested Hybrida. 'I may have sent Cicero a gift or two from time to time, but that is all.' (This was the explanation they had agreed on the previous evening, in case Rufus had evidence of money passing between them.)

' A gift? ' repeated Rufus. With exaggerated slowness he looked once more at Cicero's house, raising his hand to protect his eyes from the sun. A woman with a parasol was strolling along the terrace, and I realised it must be Terentia. 'That is quite a gift!'

Cicero sat very still. He watched Rufus closely. Several members of the jury were shaking their heads. From the audience in the comitium came the sound of jeering.

'Gentlemen,' said Rufus, 'I believe I have made my case. I have shown how Hybrida lost a whole region from our empire by his treasonable negligence. I have proved his cowardice and incompetence. I have revealed how money that should have gone to the army went instead into his own coffers. The ghosts of his legionaries, abandoned by their chief and cruelly murdered by the barbarians, cry out to us for justice. This monster should never have been permitted to hold such a high position, and would not have done so without the collusion of his consular colleague. His career is soaked in blood and depravity – the murder of that child is but a small part of it. It is too late to bring the dead back to life, but let us at least remove this man and his stench from Rome. Let us send him into exile tonight.'

Rufus sat down to prolonged applause. The praetor looked somewhat surprised, and asked if that was the conclusion of the prosecution's case. Rufus signalled that it was.

'Well, well. I thought we had at least another day to go,' said Clodianus. He turned to Cicero. 'Do you wish to make your closing speech for the defence immediately, or would you prefer the court to adjourn overnight so that you can prepare your remarks?'

Cicero was looking very flushed, and I knew at once that it would be a grave mistake for him to speak before he had had a chance to calm down. I was sitting in the space set aside for the clerks, just below the podium, and I actually rose and went up the couple of steps to plead with him to accept the adjournment. But he waved me aside before I could utter a word. There was a curious light in his eyes. I am not sure he even saw me.

'Such lies,' he said with utter disgust. He rose to his feet. 'Such lies are best squashed dead at once, like cockroaches, and not left alive to breed overnight.'

The area in front of the court had been full before, but now people began to stream into the comitium from all across the forum. Cicero on his feet was one of the great sights of Rome, and no one wanted to miss it. Not one of the Three Heads of the Beast was present, but here and there in the crowd I could see their surrogates: Balbus for Caesar, Afranius for Pompey, Arrius for Crassus. I did not have time to look for anyone else: Cicero had started speaking and I had to take down his words.

'I must confess,' he said, 'I had not much relished the prospect of coming down to this court to defend my old friend and colleague Antonius Hybrida, for such obligations as these are numerous and rest heavily on a man who has been in public life as long as I have. Yes, Rufus: “obligations” – that is a word you do not understand, otherwise you would not have addressed me in such a fashion. But now I welcome this duty – I relish it, I am glad for it – because it enables me to say something that has needed to be said for years. Yes, I made common cause with Hybrida, gentlemen – I do not deny it. I sought him out. I overlooked the differences in our styles of life and views. I overlooked many things, in fact, because I had no choice. If I was to save this republic I needed allies, and could not be too particular about where they came from.

'Cast your minds back to that terrible time. Do you think that Catilina acted alone? Do you think that one man, however energetic and inspired in his depravity, could have proceeded as far as Catilina did – could have brought this city and our republic to the edge of destruction – if he had not had powerful supporters? And I do not mean that ragbag of bankrupt noblemen, gamblers, drunkards, perfumed youths and lay abouts who flocked around him – among whom, incidentally, our ambitious young prosecutor was once numbered.

'No, I mean men of substance in our state – men who saw in Catilina an opportunity to advance their own dangerous and deluded ambitions. These men were not justly executed on the orders of the senate on the fifth day of December, nor did they die on the field of battle at the hands of the legions commanded by Hybrida. They were not sent into exile as a result of my testimony. They walk free today. No, more than that: they control this republic!'

Up to this point in his speech, Cicero had been heard in silence. But now a great many people drew in their breath, or turned to their neighbours to express their astonishment. Balbus had started making notes on a wax tablet. I thought, Does he realise what he is doing? and I risked a glance at Cicero. He barely seemed conscious of where he was – oblivious to the court, to his audience, to me, to political calculation: he was intent only on getting out his words.

'These men made Catilina what he was. He would have been nothing without them. They gave him their votes, their money, their assistance and their protection. They spoke up for him in the senate and in the law courts and in the popular assemblies. They shielded him and they nurtured him and they even supplied him with the weapons he needed to slaughter the government.' (Here my notes record more loud exclamations from the audience.) 'Until this moment, gentlemen, I did not realise the extent to which there were two conspiracies I had to fight. There was the conspiracy that I destroyed, and then there was the conspiracy behind that conspiracy – and that inner one prospers still. Look around you, Romans, and you can see how well it prospers! Rule by secret conclave and by terror on the streets. Rule by illegal methods and by bribery on a massive scale – dear gods, you accuse Hybrida of corruption? He is as guileless and as helpless as a baby by comparison with Caesar and his friends!

'This trial itself is the proof. Do you think that Rufus is the sole author of this prosecution? This neophyte who has barely grown his first beard? What nonsense! These attacks – this so-called evidence – all of it is designed to discredit not just Hybrida, but me – my reputation, my consulship, and the policies I pursued. The men behind Rufus seek to destroy the traditions of our republic for their own wicked ends, and to accomplish that – forgive me if I flatter myself: it is not the first time, I know – to achieve that aim they need to destroy me first.

'Well, gentlemen, here in this court, on this day, at this defining hour, you have a chance for immortal glory. That Hybrida made mistakes I do not doubt. That he has indulged himself more than was wise for him, I sadly concede. But look beyond his sins and you will see the same man who stood with me against the monster who threatened this city four years ago. Without his support, I would have been struck down by an assassin very early in my term. He did not desert me then, and I shall not abandon him now. Acquit him by your votes, I pray you; keep him here in Rome, and by the grace of our ancient gods we shall once again restore the light of liberty to this city of our forefathers!'

Thus spoke Cicero, but when he sat down there was very little applause, mostly just a buzz of amazement around the court at what he had said. Those who agreed with him were too frightened to be seen to support him. Those who disagreed with him were too cowed by the impact of his rhetoric to protest. The rest – the majority, I should say – were simply bewildered. I looked for Balbus in the crowd, but he had slipped away. I went up to Cicero with my notebook and congratulated him on the force of his remarks.

'Did you get it all down?' he asked, and when I replied that I had, he told me to copy out the speech as soon as we got home and hide it in a safe place. 'I expect a version is on its way to Caesar even now,' he added. 'I saw that reptile Balbus writing almost as quickly as I could speak. We must make sure we have an accurate transcript in case this is raised in the senate.'

I could not stay to talk to him further, as the praetor was ordering that the jury should be balloted at once. I glanced at the sky. It was the middle of the day; the sun was high and warm. I returned to my place and watched the urn as it was passed from hand to hand and filled with tokens. Cicero and Hybrida sat watching as well, side by side, too nervous to speak, and I thought of all the other trials I had sat through, and how they always ended in exactly this way, with this horrible period of waiting. Eventually the clerks completed their tally and the result was passed up to the praetor. He stood, and we all followed suit.

'The question before the court is whether Caius Antonius Hybrida is to be condemned for treason in connection with his governorship of the province of Macedonia. There voted in favour of condemnation forty-seven, and in favour of acquittal twelve.' There was a great cheer from the crowd. Hybrida bowed his head. The praetor waited until the sounds had died away. 'Caius Antonius Hybrida is therefore stripped of all rights of property and citizenship in perpetuity, and from midnight is to be denied fire and water anywhere within the lands, cities and colonies of Italy, and any who seek to assist him shall be subject to the same punishment. This court is adjourned.'

Cicero did not lose many cases, but on the rare occasions that he did, he was usually scrupulous in congratulating his opponents. Not this time. When Rufus came over to commiserate, Cicero pointedly turned his back on him, and I was pleased to see that the young rogue was left with his hand extended in midair, looking a fool. Eventually he shrugged and turned away. As for Hybrida, he was philosophical. 'Well,' he said to Cicero in my hearing, as he was preparing to be led away by the lictors, 'you warned me the way the wind was blowing, and thankfully I have a little money put by to see me through my old age. Besides, I am told that the southern coast of Gaul looks very like the Bay of Naples. So do not concern yourself with my fate, Cicero. After that speech, it is your own you ought to worry about.'

It must have been about two hours later – certainly no more – that the door to Cicero's house was suddenly thrown open and Metellus Celer appeared in a state of great agitation, demanding to see my master. Cicero was dining with Terentia and I was still transcribing his speech. But I could see it was supremely urgent so I took him through at once.

Cicero was reclining on a couch, describing the end of Hybrida's trial, when Celer burst into the room and interrupted him.

'What did you say in court about Caesar this morning?'

'Good day to you, Celer. I told a few truths, that's all. Will you join us?'

'Well, they must have been pretty dangerous truths, for Gaius is exacting a mighty revenge.'

'Is he really?' replied Cicero, with an attempt at sangfroid. 'And what is to be my punishment?'

'He is in the senate house as we speak, arranging for that swine of a brother-in-law of mine to become a plebeian!'

Cicero sat up in such alarm he knocked his glass over. 'No, no,' he said, 'that cannot be right. Caesar would never lift a finger to help Clodius – not after what Clodius did to his wife.'

'You are wrong. He is doing it right now.'

'How do you know?'

'My own darling wife just took great pleasure in telling me.'

'But how is it possible?'

'You forget Caesar is the chief priest. He has summoned an emergency meeting of the curia to approve an adoption.'

Terentia said, 'Is that legal?'

'Since when did legality matter,' asked Cicero bitterly, 'when Caesar is involved?' He started rubbing his forehead very hard, as if he could somehow magic forth a solution. 'What about getting Bibulus to pronounce the auguries unfavourable?'

'Caesar's thought of that. He has Pompey with him-'

'Pompey?' Cicero looked stunned. 'This gets worse every moment!'

'Pompey is an augur. He's observed the skies and declared that all's well.'

'But you're an augur. Can't you overrule him?'

'I can try. At the very least we ought to get down there.'

Cicero needed no further urging. Still wearing his slippers, he hurried out of the house after Celer, while I panted along at their backs with their attendants. The streets were quiet: Caesar had moved so quickly, no word of what was happening had filtered through to the people. Unfortunately, by the time we had sprinted across the forum and thrown open the doors of the senate house, the ceremony was just finishing – and what a shameful scene it was that met our eyes. Caesar was on the dais at the far end of the chamber, dressed in his robes as chief priest and surrounded by his lictors. Pompey was beside him, absurd in his augural cap and carrying a divining wand. Several other pontiffs were also standing around, among them Crassus, who had been co-opted into the college at Caesar's behest to replace Catulus. Clustered together on the wooden benches, like penned sheep, was the curia, the thirty elderly greyheads who were the chiefs of the tribes of Rome. And finally, to complete the picture, the golden-curled Clodius was kneeling in the aisle next to another man. Everyone turned at the noise of our entrance, and never have I forgotten the smirk of triumph on Clodius's face when he realised Cicero was watching – it was a look of almost childish devilment – although it was quickly replaced by an expression of terror as his brother-in-law strode towards him, followed by Cicero.

'What the fuck is going on here?' shouted Celer.

'Metellus Celer,' responded Caesar in a firm voice, 'this is a religious ceremony. Do not profane it.'

'A religious ceremony! With Rome's profaner-in-chief kneeling here – the man who fucked your own wife!' He aimed a kick at Clodius, who scrambled away from him towards Caesar's feet. 'And who is this boy?' he demanded, looming over the other cowering man. 'Let's see who's joined the family!' He hauled him to his feet by the scruff of his neck and turned him round to show us – a shivering, pimply youth of twenty or so.

'Show some respect to my adopted father,' said Clodius, who, despite his fear, could not stop himself laughing.

'You disgusting-' Celer dropped the youth and returned his attention to Clodius, drawing back his huge fist to strike him, but Cicero caught his arm. 'No, Celer. Don't give them an excuse to arrest you.'

'Wise advice,' said Caesar.

After a moment, Celer reluctantly lowered his hand. 'So your father is younger than you are? What a farce this is!'

Clodius smirked. 'He was the best that could be found at short notice.'

Precisely what the tribal elders – none of whom was under fifty – must have made of this spectacle, I cannot imagine. Many were old friends of Cicero. We learned later that they had been turfed from their homes and places of business by Caesar's henchmen, frogmarched to the senate house and more or less ordered to approve Clodius's adoption.

'Have we finished here yet?' asked Pompey. He not only looked ridiculous in his augural outfit but plainly was embarrassed.

'Yes, we have finished,' said Caesar. He held out a hand as if bestowing a blessing at a wedding. 'Publius Clodius Pulcher, by the powers of my office as pontifex maximus, I declare that you are now the adopted son of Publius Fonteius, and will be entered into the state's records as a plebeian. Your change of status having immediate effect, you may therefore contest the elections for tribune if you wish. Thank you, gentlemen.' Caesar nodded their dismissal, the curia rose to their feet, and the first consul and chief priest of Rome lifted his robes a fraction and stepped down from the dais, his afternoon's work done. He moved past Clodius with his head averted in distaste, as one might pass a carcass in the street. 'You should have heeded my warning,' he hissed at Cicero as he went by. 'Now look what you've forced me to do.' He processed with his lictors towards the door, followed by Pompey, who still could not bring himself to meet Cicero's eyes; only Crassus permitted himself a slight smile.

'Come along, Father,' said Clodius, putting his arm around Fonteius's shoulders, 'let me help you home.' He gave another of his unnerving, girlish laughs, and after a bow to his brother-in-law and to Cicero, they joined the end of the cortege.

' You may have finished, Caesar,' Celer called after them, 'but I have not! I am the governor of Further Gaul, remember, and I command legions, whereas you have none! I have not even started yet!'

His voice was loud. It must have carried halfway across the forum. Caesar, however, passed from the chamber and into the daylight without giving any sign that he had heard. Once he and the rest had gone and we were alone, Cicero slumped heavily on to the nearest bench and put his head in his hands. Up in the rafters the pigeons flapped and cooed – to this day I cannot hear those filthy birds without thinking of the old senate house – while the sounds of the street outside seemed strangely disconnected from me: unearthly, as if I were already in prison.

'No despairing, Cicero,' said Celer briskly after some time had passed. 'He's not even a tribune yet – and won't be, if I can help it.'

'Crassus I can beat,' replied Cicero. 'Pompey I can outwit. Even Caesar I have managed to hold in check in the past. But all three combined, and with Clodius as their weapon?' He shook his head wearily. 'How am I to live?'

That evening Cicero went to see Pompey, taking me with him, partly to show that this was a business call and not in any way social, and also I suspect to bolster his nerve. We found the great man drinking in his bachelor den with his old army comrade and fellow Picenian Aulus Gabinius. They were examining the model of Pompey's theatre complex when we were shown in, and Gabinius was gushing with enthusiasm. He was the man who, as an ambitious tribune, had proposed the laws that secured Pompey his unprecedented military powers, and he had duly been rewarded with a legateship under Pompey in the East. He had been away for several years, during which time – unknown to him – Caesar had been conducting an affair with his wife, the blowsy Lollia (at the same time as he had been sleeping with Pompey's wife, come to think of it). But now Gabinius was back in Rome – just as ambitious, a hundred times as rich, and determined to become consul.

'Cicero, my dear fellow,' said Pompey, rising to embrace him, 'will you join us for some wine?'

'I shall not,' said Cicero stiffly.

'Oh dear,' said Pompey to Gabinius, 'do you hear his tone? He's come to upbraid me for that business this afternoon I was telling you about,' and turning back to Cicero he said, 'Do I really need to explain to you that it was all Caesar's idea? I tried to talk him out of it.'

'Really? Then why didn't you?'

'He was of the view – and I must say I have to agree with him – that the tone of your remarks in court today was grossly offensive to us, and merited a public rebuke of some kind.'

'So you open the way for Clodius to become a tribune – knowing that his stated intention once he gains that office is to bring a prosecution against me?'

'I would not have gone that far, but Caesar was set on it. Are you sure I cannot tempt you to some wine?'

'For many years,' said Cicero, with a terrible calmness, 'I have supported you in everything you wanted. I have asked for nothing in return except your friendship, which has been more precious to me than anything in my public life. And now at last you have shown your true regard for me to all the world – by helping to give my deadliest enemy the weapon he needs to destroy me!'

Pompey's lip quivered and his oyster eyes filled with tears. 'Cicero, I am appalled. How can you say such things? I would never stand aside and see you destroyed. My position is not an easy one, you know – trying to exert a calming influence on Caesar is a sacrifice I make on behalf of the republic every day of my life.'

'But not today, apparently.'

'He felt that his dignity and authority were threatened by what you said.'

'Not half as threatened as they will be if I reveal all I know about this Beast with Three Heads and its dealings with Catilina!'

Gabinius broke in. 'I don't think you should speak to Pompey the Great in that tone.'

'No, no, Aulus,' said Pompey sadly, 'what Cicero says is right. Caesar has gone too far. The gods know I have tried to do as much as I can to moderate his actions behind the scenes. When Cato was flung in prison, I had him released at once. And poor Bibulus would have suffered a much worse fate than having a barrel of shit poured over him if it hadn't been for me. But on this occasion I failed. I was bound to one day. I'm afraid Caesar is just so… relentless.' He sighed and picked up one of the toy temples from his model theatre and contemplated it thoughtfully. 'Perhaps the time is coming,' he said, 'when I shall have to break with him.' He gave Cicero a crafty look – his eyes had quickly dried, I noticed. 'What do you think of that?'

'I think it cannot come soon enough.'

'You may be right.' Pompey took the temple between his fat thumb and forefinger and replaced it with surprising delicacy in its former position. 'Do you know what his new scheme is?'

'No.'

'He wishes to be awarded a military command.'

'I'm sure he does. But the senate has already decreed that there will be no provinces for the consuls this year.'

'The senate has, yes. But Caesar doesn't care about the senate. He is going to get Vatinius to propose a law in the popular assembly.'

'What?'

'A law granting him not just one province, but two – Nearer Gaul and Bithynia – with the authority to raise an army of two legions. And it won't just be a one-year appointment, either – he wants five years.'

'But the award of provinces has always been decided by the senate, not the people,' protested Cicero. 'And five years! This will smash our constitution to pieces.'

'Caesar says not. Caesar says to me, “What is wrong with trusting the people?”'

'It isn't the people! It's a mob, controlled by Vatinius.'

'Well,' said Pompey, 'now perhaps you can understand why I agreed to watch the skies for him this afternoon. Of course I should have refused. But I have to keep a larger picture in view. Someone must control him.'

Cicero put his head in his hands in despair. Eventually he said, 'May I tell some of my friends your reasons for going along with him today? Otherwise they will think I no longer have your support.'

'If you must – in the strictest confidence. And you may tell them – with Aulus here as a witness – that no harm will befall Marcus Tullius Cicero as long as Pompey the Great still breathes in Rome.'

Cicero was very silent and thoughtful as we walked home. Instead of going straight to his library, he took several turns around his garden in the darkness, while I sat at a table nearby with a lamp and quickly wrote down as much of Pompey's conversation as I could remember. When I had finished, Cicero told me to come with him, and we went next door to see Metellus Celer.

I was worried that Clodia might be present, but there was no sign of her. Instead Celer was sitting in his dining room alone, lit by a solitary candelabrum, chewing morosely on a cold chicken leg, with a jug of wine beside him. Cicero refused a drink for the second time that evening and asked me to read out what Pompey had just said. Celer was predictably outraged.

'So I shall have Further Gaul – which is where the fighting will have to be done – and he Nearer, yet each of us is to have two legions?'

'Yes, except that he will hold his province for an entire lustrum, while you will have to give up yours by the end of the year. You may be sure that if there's any glory to be had, Caesar will have it all.'

Celer let out a bellow of rage and shook his fists. 'He must be stopped! I don't care if there are three of them running this republic. There are hundreds of us!'

Cicero sat down on the couch beside him. 'We don't need to beat all three,' he said quietly. 'Just one will do. You heard what Pompey said. If we can somehow take care of Caesar, I don't think he'll do much about it. All Pompey cares about is his own dignity.'

'And what about Crassus?'

'Once Caesar is off the scene, he and Pompey won't be allies for another hour – they can't abide one another. No: Caesar is the stone that holds this arch together. Remove him and the structure falls.'

'So what do you propose we should do?'

'Arrest him.'

Celer gave Cicero a sharp look. 'But Caesar's person is inviolable, not once, but twice – first as chief priest, and then as consul.'

'You really think he'd worry about the law if he were in our place? When his every act as consul has been illegal? We either stop him now, while there's time, or we leave it until he's picked us all off one by one and there's nobody left to oppose him.'

I was amazed by what I was hearing. Until that afternoon I am sure that Cicero would never have entertained for a moment the thought of such a desperate action. It was a measure of the chasm he now saw opening up before him that he should actually have given voice to it.

'How would this be done?' asked Celer.

'You're the one with an army. How many men do you have?'

'I have two cohorts camped outside the city, preparing to march with me to Gaul.'

'How loyal are they?'

'To me? Absolutely.'

'Would they be willing to seize Caesar from his residence after dark and hold him somewhere?'

'No question, if I gave the order. But surely it would be better just to kill him?'

'No,' said Cicero. 'There would have to be a trial. On that I insist. I want no “accidents”. We would have to put through a bill to set up a special tribunal to try him for his illegal actions. I'd lead for the prosecution. Everything would have to be open and clear.'

Celer looked dubious. 'As long as you agree there could only be one verdict.'

'And Pompey would have to approve – don't imagine for a moment you could go back to your old habit of opposing him on everything he wants. We would have to guarantee that his men could keep their farms, confirm his Eastern settlements – maybe even give him a second consulship.'

'That's a lot to swallow. Wouldn't we just be swapping one tyrant for another?'

'No,' said Cicero with great force. 'Caesar is of a different category of man altogether. Pompey merely wants to rule the world. Caesar longs to smash it to pieces and remake it in his own image. And there's something else.' He paused, searched for the words.

'What? He's cleverer than Pompey, I'll give him that.'

'Oh yes, yes, of course, he's a hundred times cleverer. No, it's not that – it's more – I don't know – there's a kind of divine recklessness about him – a contempt, if you like, for the world itself – as if he thinks it's all a joke. Anyway, this – whatever it is: this quality – it makes him hard to stop.'

'That's all very philosophical, but I'll tell you how we stop him. It's easy. We put a sword through his throat, and you'll find he'll die the same as any man. But we have to do it to him as he would do it to us – fast, and ruthlessly, and when he least expects it.'

'When would you suggest?'

'Tomorrow night.'

'No, that's too soon,' said Cicero. 'We can't do this entirely alone. We shall have to bring in others.'

'Then Caesar is bound to get to hear of it. You know how many informants he has.'

'I'm only talking about half a dozen men, if that. All reliable.'

'Who?'

'Lucullus. Hortensius. Isauricus – he still carries a lot of weight, and he's never forgiven Caesar for becoming chief priest. Possibly Cato.'

'Cato!' scoffed Celer. 'We'll still be discussing the ethics of the matter long after Caesar has died of old age!'

'I'm not so sure. Cato was the loudest in his clamour for action against Catilina's gang. And the people respect him almost as much as they love Caesar.'

A floorboard creaked and Celer put a warning finger to his lips. He called out, 'Who's there?' The door opened. It was Clodia. I wondered how long she had been listening and how much she might have heard. The same thought had obviously occurred to Celer. 'What are you doing?' he demanded.

'I heard voices. I was on my way out.'

'Out?' he said suspiciously. 'At this time? What are you going out for?'

'Why do you think? To see my brother the plebeian. To celebrate!'

Celer cursed and grabbed the wine jug and hurled it at her. But she had already gone and it smashed harmlessly against the wall. I held my breath to see if she would respond, but then I heard the front door open and close.

'How soon can you get the others together?' asked Celer. 'Tomorrow?'

'Better make it the day after,' replied Cicero, who was plainly still marvelling at this exchange, 'otherwise it will seem as if there's some emergency, and Caesar may get wind of it. Let us meet at my house, at close of public business, the day after tomorrow.'

The following morning Cicero wrote out the invitations himself and had me go around the city delivering them in person into the hands of the recipients. All four were mightily intrigued, especially because by then everyone had heard of Clodius's transfer to the plebs. Lucullus actually said to me, with one of his bleak, supercilious smiles, 'What is it your master wishes to plot with me? A murder?' But each agreed to come – even Cato, who was not normally very sociable – for they were all alarmed by what was happening. Vatinius's bill proposing that Caesar be given two provinces and an army for five years had just been posted in the forum. The patricians were enraged, the populists jubilant, the mood in the city was stormy. Hortensius took me aside and told me that if I wanted to know how bad things were becoming, I should go and look at the tomb of the Sergii, which stands at the crossroads just outside the Capena Gate. This was where the head of Catilina had been interred. I went and found it piled high with fresh flowers.

I decided not to tell Cicero about these floral tributes: he was tense enough as it was. On the day of the meeting he shut himself away in his library and did not emerge until the appointed hour approached. Then he bathed, dressed in clean clothes, and fussed about the arrangement of the chairs in the tablinum. 'The truth is, I am too much of a lawyer for this kind of thing,' he confided to me. I murmured my assent, but actually I don't think it was the legality that was troubling him – it was his squeamishness again.

Cato was the first to arrive, in his usual malodorous rig of unwashed toga and bare feet. His nose twitched with distaste at the luxury of the house, but he readily consented to take some wine, for he was a heavy drinker: it was his only vice. Hortensius came next, full of sympathy for Cicero's deepening worries about Clodius; he assumed that this was what the meeting had been called to discuss. Lucullus and Isauricus, the two old generals, arrived together. 'This is quite a conspiracy,' said Isauricus, glancing at the others. 'Is anyone else coming?'

'Metellus Celer,' replied Cicero.

'Good,' said Isauricus. 'I approve of him. I reckon he's our best hope in the times to come. At least the fellow knows how to fight.'

The five sat in a circle. I was the only other person in the room. I went around with a jug of wine, and then retreated to the corner. Cicero had ordered me not to take notes but to try to remember as much as I could and write it up afterwards. I had attended so many meetings with these men over the years that no one any longer even noticed me.

'May we know what this is about?' asked Cato.

'I think we can guess,' said Lucullus.

Cicero said, 'I suggest we wait until Celer arrives. He is the one with most to contribute.'

The group sat in silence, until at last Cicero could stand it no longer and told me to go next door and find out why Celer was delayed.

I do not pretend to possess powers of divination, but even as I approached Celer's house I sensed that something was wrong. The exterior was too quiet; there was none of the normal coming and going. Inside there was that awful hush that always accompanies catastrophe. Celer's steward, whom I knew tolerably well, met me with tears in his eyes and told me that his master had been seized by terrible pains the previous day, and that although the doctors were unable to agree what was wrong with him, they concurred that it could well be fatal. I felt sick myself at the news and begged him to go to Celer and ask if he had any message for Cicero, who was waiting at home to see him. The steward went away and came back with a single word, which apparently was all that Celer had been able to gasp: 'Come!'

I ran back to Cicero's house. When I went into the tablinum, naturally the senators all turned to look at me, assuming I was Celer. There were groans of impatience when I gestured to Cicero that I needed to speak with him in private.

'What are you playing at?' he whispered angrily, when I got him into the atrium. His nerves were clearly stretched to breaking point. 'Where's Celer?'

'Gravely ill,' I replied. 'Perhaps dying. He wants you to come at once.'

Poor Cicero. That must have been a blow. He seemed literally to stagger back from it. Without exchanging a word we went straight round to Celer's house, where the steward was waiting for us, and he led us towards the private apartments. I shall never forget those gloomy passageways, with their dim candles and the sickly smell of incense being burned to cover the still more powerful odours of vomit and bodily decay. So many doctors had been called to attend upon Celer, they blocked the door to his bedchamber, talking quietly in Greek. We had to force our way inside. It was stiflingly hot, and so dark that Cicero was obliged to pick up a lamp and take it over to where the senator lay. He was naked apart from the bandages that marked where he had been bled. Dozens of leeches were attached to his arms and the insides of his legs. His mouth was black and frothy: I learned afterwards that he had been fed charcoal, as part of some crackpot cure. It had been necessary to tie him to his bed because of the force of his convulsions.

Cicero knelt beside him. 'Celer,' he said in a voice of great tenderness, 'my dear friend, who has done this to you?'

Hearing Cicero's voice, Celer turned his face to him, and tried to speak, but all that emerged was an unintelligible gurgle of black bubbles. He surrendered after that. He closed his eyes, and by all accounts he never opened them again.

Cicero lingered for a little while, and asked the doctors various questions. They disagreed about everything, in the way of medical men, but on one point they were unanimous: none had ever seen a healthy body succumb to a disease more quickly.

'A disease?' said Cicero incredulously. 'Surely he has been poisoned?'

Poisoned? The doctors recoiled at the very word. No, no – this was a ravaging sickness, a virulent distemper, the result of a snake bite: anything except poisoning, which was simply too appalling a possibility to be discussed. Besides, who would want to poison the noble Celer?

Cicero left them to it. That Celer had been murdered he never doubted, although whether Caesar had a hand in it, or Clodius, or both, he never discovered, and the truth remains a mystery to this day. There was, however, no question in his mind as to who had administered the fatal dose, for as we left that house of death we met coming in through the front door Clodia, accompanied by – of all people – young Caelius Rufus, fresh from his triumph over Hybrida. And although they both hastily assumed grave expressions, one could tell that they had been laughing a moment earlier; and although they quickly stood apart, it was clear that they were lovers.