gesture to Cicero's new house, sitting on the Palatine high above the heads of the crowd, as a perfect symbol of dictatorship. 'Look how mightily the tyrant who butchered citizens without a proper trial has prospered by his handiwork – no wonder he is thirsty for fresh blood!' Cicero responded in kind. The mutual insults grew more and more deadly. Sometimes Cicero and I used to stand on the terrace and watch the tyro demagogue at work, and although we were too far away to hear exactly what he said, the applause of the crowd was audible and I recognised what we were seeing: the monster Cicero had thought he had slain had begun to twitch back into life.
XIV
Around the middle of March, Hortensius came to see Cicero. He trailed Catulus after him, and when the old patrician shuffled in, he looked more than ever like a tortoise without its shell. Catulus had recently had the last of his teeth removed, and the trauma of the extraction, the long months of agony that had preceded it and the distortion of his mouth that had resulted all combined to make him look every one of his sixty years. He seemed unable to stop drooling and carried a large handkerchief that was sodden and yellowish. He reminded me of someone: I could not think who at first, and then I remembered – Rabirius. Cicero sprang up to help him to a chair, but Catulus waved him away, mumbling that he was perfectly all right.
'This wretched affair with Clodius cannot be allowed to drag on any longer,' Hortensius began.
'I agree with you,' said Cicero, who privately, I knew, was beginning to feel uncomfortable about the damaging war of words he was locked in with Clodius. 'The government is at a standstill. Our enemies are laughing at us.'
'We need to bring it to trial as soon as possible. I propose we should give up our insistence that the jury be selected by the urban praetor.'
'So how would it be selected?'
'In the usual way, by lot.'
'But might we not then find ourselves with quite a few dubious characters on the jury? We don't want the rascal to be acquitted. That really would be a disaster.'
'Acquittal is utterly impossible. Once any jury sees the weight of the evidence against him, he's bound to be convicted. All we need is a bare majority. We must have some faith in the good sense of the Roman people.'
'He must be crushed by the facts,' put in Catulus, holding his stained handkerchief to his mouth, 'and the sooner the better.'
'Will Fufius agree to drop his veto if we give up the clause about the jury?'
'He assures me he will, on condition we also reduce the penalty from death to exile.'
'What does Lucullus say?'
'He just wants a trial on any terms. You know he's been preparing for this day for years. He has all manner of witnesses lined up ready to testify to Clodius's immorality – even the slave girls who changed the sheets on his bed in Misenum after he had intercourse with his sisters.'
'Dear gods! Is it wise to have that kind of detail aired in public?'
'I never heard of such disgusting behaviour,' drooled Catulus. 'The whole Augean stable needs cleaning out, or it will be the ruin of us.'
'Even so…' Cicero frowned and did not complete the sentence. I could see he was not convinced, and for the first time I believe he sniffed danger to himself. Exactly what it was he could not say, simply that something about it smelled ominous. He continued to raise objections for a little longer – 'Wouldn't it be better just to drop the whole bill? Haven't we made our point? Don't we risk making a martyr of the young fool?' – before reluctantly giving Hortensius his assent. 'Well, I suppose you will have to do whatever you think is right. You've taken the lead in this thing from the start. However, I must make one thing clear – I want no part in it.'
I was vastly relieved to hear him utter those words: it seemed to me almost the first sensible decision he had made since leaving the consulship. Hortensius looked disappointed, having doubtless hoped that Cicero would lead for the prosecution, but he did not try to argue the matter, and duly went off to make the deal with Fufius. Thus the bill was passed and the people of Rome licked their lips and prepared for what promised to be the most scandalous trial in the republic's history.
The normal business of government was now able to resume, beginning with the drawing of lots by the praetors for their provinces. A few days before the ceremony, Cicero went out to the Alban Hills to see Pompey, and asked him as a favour not to press for the recall of Hybrida.
'But the man is a disgrace to our empire,' objected Pompey. 'I have never heard of such thievery and incompetence.'
'I am sure he is not as bad as all that.'
'Are you doubting my word?'
'No. But I would be grateful if you could oblige me in this matter. I gave him my assurance that I'd support him.'
'Ah, so I assume he's cutting you in?' Pompey winked and rubbed his thumb and forefinger together.
'Certainly not. I simply feel honour-bound to protect him, in return for all the help he gave me in saving the republic.'
Pompey looked unconvinced. But then he grinned and clapped Cicero on the shoulder. What was Macedonia after all? A mere vegetable plot to the Warden of Land and Sea! 'All right, let him have another year. But in return I expect you to do everything in your power to get my three bills through the senate.'
Cicero agreed, and thus when the lot drawing took place in the chamber of the senate, Macedonia, the most valuable prize, was not on the table. Instead there were just five provinces to be divided among the eight former praetors. The rivals all sat in a row on the front bench, Caesar at the end furthest from Quintus. Vergilius went first, if I remember rightly, and drew Sicily, and Caesar was the next to step up to try his luck. This was an important moment for him. Because of his divorce he had been obliged to hand back Pompeia's dowry and was being hard- pressed by his creditors: there was talk he was no longer solvent and might even be forced to leave the senate. He put his hand into the urn and gave the token to the consul. When the result was read out – 'Caesar draws Further Spain!' – he grimaced. Unfortunately for him, there was no war to be had in that distant land; he would much have preferred Africa or even Asia, where there was a greater chance of making money. Cicero managed to suppress a smile of triumph, but only for a moment or two, because shortly afterwards Asia went to Quintus, and Cicero was the first on his feet to congratulate his brother. Once again he let his tears flow freely. There seemed every possibility that Quintus might return from his province and become consul in his turn. Theirs was a dynasty in the making, and joyous was the family celebration that evening, to which I was once again invited. Cicero and Caesar were now on opposite sides of Fortune's wheel, with Cicero at the top and Caesar very firmly at the bottom.
Normally the new governors would have set off for their provinces immediately: in fact they should have left months earlier. But on this occasion the senate refused to allow them to leave Rome until the trial of Clodius had been concluded, in case they might be needed to restore public order.
The court duly convened in May, the prosecution being mounted by three young members of the Cornelius Lentulus family – Crus, Marcellinus and Niger, the latter being also the chief priest of Mars. They were great rivals of the Claudian clan, and had a particular grudge against Clodius, who had seduced several of their womenfolk. As his chief defender Clodius relied upon a former consul, Scribonius Curio, who was the father of one of his closest friends. Curio had made his fortune in the East as a soldier under Sulla, but was rather slow-witted, with a poor memory. As an orator he was known as 'The Fly-Swatter' because of his habit of throwing his arms around when he spoke. To weigh the evidence was a jury of fifty-six citizens, drawn by lot. They were of all types and conditions, from patrician senators down to such notorious low-life figures as Talna and Spongia. Originally eighty jurors had been empanelled, but the defence and prosecution each had twelve challenges, which they quickly used up, the defence rejecting the respectable and the prosecution the rough. Those who had survived this winnowing sat uneasily together.
A sex scandal will always draw a crowd, but a sex scandal involving the ruling classes is titillating beyond measure. To accommodate the numbers who wished to watch, it was necessary to hold the trial in front of the Temple of Castor. A special section of seats was set aside for the senate, and that was where Cicero took his place
