'He's allied with Caesar, of course,' said Cicero. 'Other than that, his only programme so far as I can discern is self-advancement.'
'He's an original then, unique among Roman politicians,' I said. Neither Cicero nor Caelius responded to this joke. Tiro predictably frowned, taking offence on behalf of his former master. Eco kept a straight face but shook his head almost imperceptibly, wondering at his father's impertinence.
'I understand he's very popular with his troops,' I said. 'So my son Meto tells me.'
'And why not? Antony has the common touch.' Cicero's tone was not complimentary. 'He's of noble birth, but they say he drinks and carouses with the lowest soldiers from the barracks. He's always been like that. He used to hang out with his mother's household slaves and freedmen when he was growing up. Always the little boy who liked to get dirty. Always attracted to loud, vulgar pleasures. Well, he got a bad start.'
'Tell me.'
'One would have to go back to his grandfather, at least…' Of course, I thought; the career of any Roman of high birth could never be described beginning merely with his own birth. 'The old fellow was quite a power back when I was growing up — one of my tutors in rhetoric, as a matter of fact, and one of the best. Magnificent speeches! Words that rumbled like thunder! But he would never publish them; he said that only a fool would do that, because it just gave your enemies a way to point out your inconsistencies.' Cicero, who had made a career of publishing and disseminating his speeches, laughed ruefully.
Caelius smiled. 'Wasn't there some scandal involving Antony's grandfather and a Vestal Virgin?'
'Caelius, must you always have a scandal?'
'Yes! And if there's not one, I'll invent it!'
'Well, you happen to be right. There was a trial for despoiling a Vestal somewhere in the distant past, but he was acquitted of that and went on to a truly distinguished career. Ended up serving as consul, then censor, and was finally elected to the college of augurs for life. But his rise really began with his military service. He was one of the first to mount a campaign against the pirates in Cilicia. Did so well, he was awarded a triumphal procession in Rome. The Senate allowed him to decorate the Rostra with the beaks of the ships he had captured, and even voted to erect a statue of him.'
'A statue?' said Eco. 'I don't recall ever seeing it.'
'That's because it was pulled down shortly after he was executed during the civil war. I remember seeing his head on a spike in the Forum; it gave me nightmares for months afterwards. Quite a shock, seeing an old tutor in that condition. Even the canniest politician was liable to make a fatal misstep back in those days.'
'Rather like these days,' murmured Caelius.
Eco, I noticed, put down a piece of chicken he had been about to eat.
'Anyway,' Cicero continued, 'Antony's grandfather had an extraordinary career, even if it did end so ingloriously. Antony never knew him, of course; the old man was killed a few years before Antony was born.
'Now Antony's father was another matter altogether. Good-looking, well liked, generous to his friends, but a terrible bungler. Like his father before him, he was sent to quell the pirates. Raised a massive war chest, gathered a formidable navy, then squandered it all in losing skirmishes from Spain to Crete. When he negotiated a humiliating peace with the pirates, that was the last straw. The Senate rejected the treaty in outrage. Antony's father died in Crete, some say of shame. Antony was only about-what, Caelius? Eleven or twelve years old?'
Caelius nodded. 'And we all know one outcome of his father's failure. The Senate looked around for someone else to put an end to the pirate problem. Pompey got the commission and-came down on the pirates like a tidal wave. His own tide has been rising ever since.'
'But you're taking us astray,' said Cicero. 'Gordianus doesn't want to hear about Pompey. He wants to know about Marc Antony. Well, he's no Pompey, but Caesar seems to think he's competent. As you see, if Marc Antony has any military acumen, then it must have come from his grandfather. But there's also a strong element of his father in him. Antony's charming, affable, boisterous, and entirely too reckless. Of course, some of that may be due to the unfortunate influence of his stepfather.'
'His stepfather?' I said.
Cicero looked rueful. 'Well, it's hardly Antony's fault that his mother made that disastrous second marriage and tied her fortunes to such a loser. I suppose Julia thought she was marrying up, since Lentulus had been a consul, was a patrician like herself-' 'Lentulus? You mean Antony's stepfather was — ' 'Yes, 'Legs' Lentulus,' said Cicero with loathing in his voice, 'so called for pulling up his toga to bare his legs like a schoolboy in for a strapping when his fellow senators put him on trial for embezzling public money. A man so flagrantly corrupt that he was finally expelled from the Senate — and so persistent that he managed to worm his way back in again. Superstitious as well; some charlatan fortune-teller convinced him that he was destined to become dictator because of a few lines of doggerel in the Sibylline Books. That's how Lentulus got involved with Catilina and his traitorous clique. We all know how that ended.'
Indeed we did. It had happened in the year that Cicero was consul. The so-called conspiracy of Catilina had been ruthlessly put down; under Cicero's authority, Lentulus and a number of others had been executed without a formal trial The Best People had lauded Cicero for his decisiveness in saving the Republic; many among the populists had condemned him as a murderous tyrant. A backlash had followed, culminating in the vengeful legislation masterminded by Clodius to send Cicero into exile. The Senate had eventually rescinded the exile; Cicero was a powerful player on the stage in Rome again; and Clodius was dead…
'It's ten years since Catilina,' I said quietly.
'Yes, and for ten years Marc Antony has carried a grudge against me,' said Cicero. 'He's never come to terms with the hard fact that his stepfather had to die. Antony was only twenty at the time. Passionate young men can't always be reached by reason. They can carry resentments for a long time.' Cicero sighed, whether from emotion or dyspepsia I couldn't tell. 'I've heard that he even claims that I refused to hand over the body to his mother after Lentulus was strangled, and Julia had to come begging to my wife to intercede. Nonsense! An obscene lie! I saw to it that the bodies of all the conspirators were given proper burial.' Cicero winced and pressed his hand to his belly. He surveyed what remained of the meal before him as if to identify the guilty dish which had set off his indigestion.
Antony's grandfather, his father, his stepfather — they had all risen to glory and had all ended in ruin. The world is like a spinning disc, driving men and women to the edge and then hurling them this way and that into the void beyond its whirling rim. Most are never seen again, but some manage to grab hold of the edge and claw their way back to the centre, not once but again and again. Cicero was one of those. So was Caelius.
'You've explained his lineage,' I said. 'What about Antony himself?'
'He fell in with a bad crowd — Clodius and his gang of aristocratic young incorrigibles,' said Cicero. 'The usual formula for dissipation: high living, radical politics, mad schemes for the future. And no money to finance any of it. Antony's father left an estate so encumbered with debts that Antony refused his inheritance. Technically he started his career as a bankrupt. It was young Gaius Curio who covered his debts. He and Antony were like peas in a pod. Companions in debauchery. Inseparable. So close that their relationship gave rise to all sorts of… nasty rumours. Well, when Curio's father got the bill for Antony's debts, he went through the roof. Came seeking my advice. I told him to grit his teeth, hand over the silver, and forbid his son ever to see Antony again. The next time Antony came calling on Curio the watchmen turned him away. So what did Antony do? Scaled a wall and let himself down through a hole in the roof, directly into Curio's bedroom, like a determined suitor!'
Cicero and Caelius shared a laugh, interrupted by another wince from Cicero as he gingerly clutched his belly. 'Anyway, Antony solved his money problems when he married a woman named Fadia, the daughter of a rich freedman. A freedman! The scandal of marrying that far below one's station would have ruined an aristocrat when I was young, but I suppose the incorrigibles in Antony's circle applauded him for flouting convention and landing a big dowry. At least the marriage seems to have taken Antony's mind off Curio; I'm told that Antony fathered several children before Fadia died. Meanwhile, he spent some time in Greece studying oratory, put in some military service in Judaea and Syria, helped put down a revolt against King Ptolemy in Egypt, and eventually hitched himself to Caesar and headed for Gaul. Oh, and a couple of years ago he found time to get married again — this time to his cousin Antonia.
'And now Marc Antony has become one of Julius Caesar's most trusted lieutenants. I suppose he's good at his job if Caesar deems him worthy of grooming for office and sends him back to Rome to stand for quaestor.'
While the slaves brought water and wine to refill the cups and cleared away the dishes, I mulled over all that Cicero had told me. Sempronia said that Antony had chased after Clodius with a sword on the Field of Mars, trying
