Lustrum

'If you insist,' said Cethegus, handing it over. 'I must say, I was always taught it was the height of bad manners for one gentleman to read another gentleman's mail.'

Cicero ignored him, broke open the letter and read it out loud: ' From Caius Cornelius Cethegus to Catugnatus, chief of the Allobroges – greetings! By this letter I give you my word that I and my companions will keep the promises we have made to your envoys, and that if your nation rises against your unjust oppressors in Rome, it will have no more loyal allies than us.'

On hearing this, the assembled senators let out a great bellow of outrage. Cicero held up his hand. 'Is this your writing?' he asked Cethegus.

The young senator, clearly taken aback by his reception, mumbled something I could not hear.

'Is this your writing?' repeated Cicero. 'Speak up!'

Cethegus hesitated, then said quietly, 'It is.'

'Well, young man, clearly we had different tutors, for I was always taught that the true height of bad manners was not reading another man's mail, but plotting treason with a foreign power! Now,' continued Cicero, consulting his notes, 'at your house this morning we discovered an armoury of a hundred swords and the same number of daggers. What do you have to say for yourself?'

'I'm a collector of weapons-' began Cethegus. He may have been trying to be witty; if he was, it was a foolish joke, and also his last. The rest of his words were lost in the angry protests that came from every corner of the temple.

'We've heard enough from you,' said Cicero. 'Your guilt is self-confessed. Take him away and bring in the next.'

Cethegus was led off, not quite so jaunty now, and Statilius was marched down the aisle. The same process was repeated: he identified his seal, the letter was broken open and read (the language was almost identical to that used by Cethegus), he confirmed that the handwriting was his; but when he was asked to explain himself, he claimed that the letter was not meant seriously.

'Not meant seriously?' repeated Cicero in wonder. 'An invitation to an alien tribe to slaughter Roman men, women and children – not meant seriously?' Statilius could only hang his head.

Capito's turn followed, with the same result, and then Caeparius made a dishevelled appearance. He was the one who had tried to escape at dawn, but he had been captured on his way to Apulia with messages for the rebel forces. His confession was the most abject of all. Finally there remained only Lentulus Sura to confront, and this was a moment of great drama, for you must remember that Sura was not only the urban praetor, and therefore the third most powerful magistrate in the state, but also a former consul: a man in his middle fifties of the most distinguished lineage and appearance. As he entered, he looked around with appealing eyes at colleagues he had sat with for a quarter of a century in the highest council of the state, but none would meet his gaze. With great reluctance he identified the last two letters, both of which bore his seal. The one to the Gauls was the same as those that had been read out earlier. The second was addressed to Catilina. Cicero broke it open.

' You will know who I am from the bearer of this message,' he read. ' Be a man. Remember how critical your position is. Consider what you must now do and enlist aid wherever you find it – even from the lowest of the low.' Cicero held out the letter to Sura. 'Your writing?'

'Yes,' replied Sura with great dignity, 'but there's nothing criminal about it.'

'This phrase, “the lowest of the low” – what do you mean by it?'

'Poor people – shepherds, tenant farmers and suchlike.'

'Isn't it rather a lordly way for a so-called champion of the poor to refer to our fellow citizens?' Cicero turned to Volturcius: 'You were supposed to convey this letter to Catilina at his headquarters, were you not?'

Volturcius lowered his eyes. 'I was.'

'What precisely does Sura mean by this phrase, “the lowest of the low”? Did he tell you?'

'Yes, he did, Consul. He means that Catilina should encourage an uprising of slaves.'

The roars of fury that greeted this revelation were almost physical in their force. To encourage an uprising of slaves so soon after the havoc wrought by Spartacus and his followers was worse even than making an alliance with the Gauls. 'Resign! Resign! Resign!' the senate chorused at the urban praetor. Several senators actually ran across the temple and began wrenching off Sura's purple-bordered toga. He fell to the ground and briefly disappeared in a crowd of assailants and guards. Large pieces of his toga were borne away, and very quickly he was reduced to his undergarments. His nose was bleeding, and his hair, normally oiled and coiffed, was standing on end. Cicero called out for a fresh tunic to be brought, and when one was found, he actually went down and helped Sura put it on.

After some kind of calm had been restored, Cicero took a vote on whether or not Sura should be stripped of his office. The senate roared back an overwhelming 'Aye!' which was of great significance, as it meant Sura was no longer immune from punishment. Dabbing at his nose, he was taken away, and the consul resumed his questioning of Volturcius: 'We have here five conspirators, fully revealed at last, unable any longer to hide from public gaze. To your certain knowledge, are there more?'

'There are.'

'And what are their names?'

'Autronius Paetus, Servius Sulla, Cassius Longinus, Marcus Laeca, Lucius Bestia.'

Everyone looked around the temple to see if any of the named men were present; none was.

'The familiar roll-call,' said Cicero. 'Does the house agree that these men should also be arrested?'

'Aye!' they chorused back.

Cicero turned back to Volturcius. 'And were there any others?'

'I did hear of others.'

'And their names?'

Volturcius hesitated and glanced nervously around the senate. 'Gaius Julius Caesar,' he said quietly, 'and Marcus Licinius Crassus.'

There were gasps and whistles of astonishment. Both Caesar and Crassus angrily shook their heads.

'But you have no actual evidence of their involvement?'

'No, Consul. It was only ever rumours.'

'Then strike their names from the record,' Cicero instructed me. 'We shall deal in evidence, gentlemen,' he said, having to raise his voice to be heard above the swelling murmur of excitement, 'evidence and not speculation!'

It was a while before he could continue. Caesar and Crassus continued to shake their heads and protest their innocence with exaggerated gestures to the men seated around them. Occasionally they turned to look at Cicero, but it was hard to read their expressions. The temple was gloomy even on a sunny day. But now the winter afternoon light was fading fast, and even faces quite close by were becoming difficult to see.

'I have a proposal!' shouted Cicero, clapping his hands to try to regain order. 'I have a proposal, gentlemen!' At last the noise began to die away. 'It's obvious that we cannot settle the fate of these men today. Therefore they must be kept guarded overnight until we can agree a course of action. To keep them all in the same place would invite a rescue attempt. Therefore what I propose is this. The prisoners should be separated and each entrusted to the custody of a different member of the senate, a man of praetorian rank. Does anyone have any objections to that?' There was silence. 'Very well.' Cicero squinted around the darkening temple. 'Who will volunteer for this duty?' Nobody raised his hand. 'Come now, gentlemen – there's no danger. Each prisoner will be guarded. Quintus Cornificius,' he said at last, pointing to a former praetor of impeccable reputation, 'will you be so good as to take charge of Cethegus?'

Cornificius glanced around, then got to his feet. 'If that is what you want, Consul,' he replied reluctantly.

'Spinther, will you take Sura?'

Spinther stood. 'Yes, Consul.'

'Terentius – would you house Caeparius?'

'If that is the will of the senate,' replied Terentius in a glum voice.

Cicero continued to peer around for more potential custodians, and finally his gaze alighted on Crassus. 'In which case,' he said, as if the idea had only just occurred to him, 'Crassus, what better way for you to prove your innocence – not to me, who requires no proof, but to that tiny number who might doubt it – than for you to take custody of Capito? And by the same token, Caesar – you are a praetor-elect – perhaps you will take Statilius into the residence of the chief priest?' Both Crassus and Caesar looked at him with their mouths agape. But what else