Lustrum

And perhaps it would have done if Caesar had not taken a dramatic step to preserve it.

The blow fell on the first day of May. It was in the evening, after dinner, and Cicero had just nodded off on his couch, when a letter arrived from Atticus. I should explain that we were in the villa in Formiae by this time, and that Atticus had returned briefly to his house in Rome, whence he was sending Cicero more or less daily all the intelligence he could discover. Of course it was no substitute for actually seeing Atticus, but neverthless it was agreed between them that he should stay there, for he was of more service picking up gossip than counting waves on the seashore. Terentia was doing her embroidery in a corner of the room, all was peaceful, and I debated whether or not to wake Cicero. But he had already heard the noise of the messenger, and his hand rose imperiously from the couch. 'Give it me,' he said. I handed him the letter and went out on to the terrace. I could see a tiny light on a boat out at sea, and I was wondering what manner of fish had to be caught in darkness, or if this was the setting of traps for lobsters or whatnot – I am a terrible landlubber – when I heard a great groan from the couch behind me.

Terentia looked up in consternation. 'Whatever is it?' she asked.

I went inside. Cicero had the letter crumpled on his chest. 'Pompey has married again,' he said in a hollow voice. ' He has married Caesar's daughter! '

Against the workings of history Cicero could deploy many weapons: logic, cunning, irony, wit, oratory, experience, his profound knowledge of law and men. But against the alchemy of two naked bodies in a bed in the darkness, and against all the complex longings and attachments and commitments such intimacy might arouse, he had nothing with which to fight. Strange as it may seem, the prospect of a marriage between the two had never occurred to him. Pompey was nearly forty-seven. Julia was fourteen. Only Caesar, raged Cicero, could have prostituted his child in a manner so cynical and repulsive and depraved. He railed against it for an hour or two – 'Imagine it: him, and her: together!' – and then, when he had calmed down, wrote a letter of congratu lations to the bride and groom. As soon as he returned to Rome, he went to see them with a gift. I carried it in for him in a sandalwood box, and after he had delivered his prepared speech about the celestial radiance of their union, I placed it in his hands.

'Now who is in charge of receiving the presents in this household?' he asked with a smile, and he took half a step towards Pompey, who naturally reached out to take it, before Cicero abruptly turned away and gave the box to Julia with a bow. She laughed, and so after a moment or two did Pompey, although he wagged his finger at Cicero and called him a mischievous fellow. I must say that Julia had grown up to be a most charming young woman – pretty, graceful and obviously kind, and yet the peculiar thing was that one could see her father in every line of her face and gesture of her body. It was as if all the gaiety had been sucked out of him and blown into her. And the other amazing thing was that she was very clearly in love with Pompey. She opened the box and took out Cicero's gift – it was an exquisite silver dish, if I remember rightly, with their entwined initials engraved upon it – and when she showed it to Pompey, she held his hand and stroked his cheek. He beamed and kissed her on her forehead. Cicero regarded the happy couple with the fixed smile of a dinner guest who has just swallowed something very unpleasant but does not want to reveal the fact to his hosts.

'You must come and see us again soon,' said Julia. 'I wish to know you better. My father says you are the cleverest man in Rome.'

'He's very gracious, but alas, I must yield that prize to him.'

Pompey insisted on showing Cicero to the door himself. 'Isn't she delightful?'

'Very.'

'I tell you frankly, Cicero, I am happier with her than with any woman I have ever known. She makes me feel quite twenty years younger. Or even thirty.'

'At this rate you will soon be in your infancy,' joked Cicero. 'Congratulations again.' We had reached the atrium – to which, I noticed, the cloak of Alexander the Great and the pearl-encrusted head of Pompey had now been banished. 'And I assume relations with your new father-in-law are equally close?'

'Oh, Caesar's not such a bad fellow once you know how to handle him.'

'You are entirely reconciled?'

'We were never estranged.'

'And what about me?' blurted out Cicero, unable to conceal his true feelings any longer. He sounded like a discarded lover. 'What am I supposed to do about this monster Clodius you two have created to torment me?'

'My dear friend, don't worry about him for an instant! He talks a lot but it doesn't mean anything. If ever it really did come to a serious fight, he would have to step over my dead body to get at you.'

'Really?'

'Absolutely.'

'Is that a firm commitment?'

Pompey looked hurt. 'Have I ever let you down?'

Soon afterwards the marriage bore its first fruit. Pompey rose in the senate and read out a motion: that in view of the grievous loss, etc., etc., of Metellus Celer, the province he had been allotted before his death – Further Gaul – should be transferred to Julius Caesar, who had already been granted Nearer Gaul by a vote of the people; that this unified command would henceforth make it easier to crush any future rebellions; and that in view of the unsettled nature of the region, Caesar should be given an additional legion, bringing the total strength at his disposal to five.

Caesar, who was in the chair, asked if there were any objections. He swivelled his head left and right a couple of times, checking if anyone wished to speak, and was just about to move on to 'any other business' when Lucullus got to his feet. The old patrician general was nearing sixty by this time – disdainful, feline, but still magnificent in his way.

'Forgive me, Caesar,' he said, 'but will you also retain the province of Bithynia?'

'I will.'

'So you will now have three provinces?'

'I will.'

'But Bithynia is a thousand miles from Gaul!' Lucullus gave a mocking laugh and looked around the chamber for others to share his amusement. Nobody joined in.

Caesar said quietly, 'We all know our geography, Lucullus, thank you. Now does anyone else wish to speak?'

But Lucullus refused to stop. 'And your term of office,' he persisted, 'will it still be for five years?'

'It will. The people have decreed it. Why? Do you wish to oppose the will of the people?'

'But this is absurd!' cried Lucullus. 'Gentlemen, we cannot allow a single individual, however able, to control twenty-two thousand men on the very borders of Italy for five years. What if he were to move against Rome?'

Cicero was one of a number of senators who shifted uncomfortably on their hard wooden bench. But not one of them – not even Cato – wanted to pick a fight on this issue, for there was not a chance of winning. Lucullus, plainly surprised by the lack of support, sat down grumpily and folded his arms.

Pompey said, 'I fear our friend Lucullus has spent too long with his fish. Things have changed in Rome of late.'

'Clearly,' muttered Lucullus, loud enough for all to hear, ' and not for the better.'

At that Caesar rose. His expression was fixed and cold: almost inhuman, like a Thracian mask. 'I think Lucius Lucullus has forgotten that he commanded more legions than I in his time, and for longer than five years, and yet still the job of defeating Mithradates had to be finished off by my gallant son-in-law.' The supporters of the Beast with Three Heads gave a loud roar of approval. 'I think Lucius Lucullus's period as commander-in-chief might well bear investigation, perhaps by a special court. I think Lucius Lucullus's finances would certainly bear scrutiny – the people would be interested to know where he obtained his great wealth. And I think in the meantime that Lucius Lucullus should apologise to this house for his insulting insinuation.'

Lucullus glanced around. No one returned his gaze. To be hauled before a special court at his age, and with so much to explain, would be unbearable. Swallowing hard, he stood. 'If my words have offended you, Caesar-' he began.

'On his knees!' bellowed Caesar.

Lucullus looked suddenly very old and baffled. 'What?' he asked.

'He should apologise on his knees!' repeated Caesar.

I could not bear to watch, and yet at the same time it was impossible to tear one's eyes away, for the ending