Steven Saylor - Catilina's riddle

Next to the Senate House and attached to it is another, less impressive building which houses various offices of the state. I had never been inside, and in fact had hardly ever noticed it. The wooden doors of the entrance stood open on such a hot day and there was no one to stop us from entering.

Within, a broad hallway ran the length of the building with rows of small rooms on either side. The rooms were full of scrolls stacked in cases against the walls and piled on tables. A few sleepy clerks moved lethargically among the documents, like shepherds tending a docile flock. They took no notice of us.

At the centre of the building a flight of steps ascended to a second storey and then to a third. Rufus led us through a succession of small, plain rooms. I began to hear echoey voices speaking in loud, oratorical tones, interrupted occasionally by an indistinct roar that might have been jeering or laughter. The sounds grew louder as we passed from room to room, until we came to an iron door that stood half-open. Rufus put a finger to his lips, though none of us had said a word since we began to follow him; then he slipped through the doorway. With one hand he gestured for us to follow.

The Senate House is not an old building, having been rebuilt and refurbished by Sulla during his dictatorship. The materials within reflect the despot's impeccable taste — the decorative walls of coloured marble, the beautifully carved columns, the ornately coffered ceiling. A vestibule separates the meeting room from the main entrance. The great chamber is rectangular,illuminated at night or in stormy weather by great lamps that hang from the ceiling, and on a bright, sunlit afternoon such as this by tall, unshuttered windows placed high up in the walls and covered by bronze lattices. Against the longer walls and in a semicircle against the short wall opposite the vestibule are three tiers of seats, so that the rows of carved wooden chairs follow the shape of the letter U. We had entered near the left-hand prong of the U, between the vestibule on our left and the tiers of seats on our right. In this inconspicuous place stood some ten or more clerks who kept attentive eyes upon the senators in case they should be summoned to fetch some document or carry a message. A few of the clerks noticed our arrival and gave us a suspicious glance, but when they saw that we were with Rufus they paid us no more attention. They seemed too engrossed by what was happening on the floor of the Senate.

Cicero stood at the very centre of the room, surrounded by the seated senators like a gladiator in the circus. If Meto needed instruction by example on how to comport himself in a toga, he could have learned much that day from Cicero, who seemed to be able to speak with his entire body, subtly turning and twisting his neck, gesticulating with one arm and clutching the other to his midriff as if it held a shield. He had come a long way from the impassioned but rather stiff orator I had met many years ago. One hardly even had to hear him to feel the force of his eloquence.

He was not delivering a set speech at the moment, but seemed instead to be engaged in a spontaneous debate with one of the senators in the tiers. From where we stood I had to crane my neck to catch a glimpse of the man, but when I heard his voice, I had no need to see him: it was Catilina.

Sulla, when he rebuilt the Senate House, had used not only his impeccable eye but his ear as well. The great lover of music and the theatre had learned a thing or two from those famous Greek theatres where an actor's whisper can be clearly heard from the farthest seat. Every word that Cicero and Catilina exchanged pealed as clear as if we had stood between them.

'Catilina, Catilina!’ Cicero cried in a mock-wounded tone. 'I ask not that the elections be postponed to jeopardize your chances of being elected, if that is the will of the people. I would do nothing to jeopardize the will of the Roman people! But so long as I have been entrusted with the guidance of tile state, I will do everything possible to see that the state and the people are preserved from harm.’ That goes as well for the members of this august body! As it stands now, if the voting is held tomorrow, we are likely to have not an election but a bloodbath!'

At this there was another mild uproar. Thanks to the room's extraordinary acoustics, I could hear quite distinctly the mingled shouts of scoffing and agreement within the general roar.

'Cicero is obsessed with the idea that blood will be spilled on election day,' shouted Catilina, 'only because he fears it will be his own.'

'And do you deny that I have every reason to fear?' said Cicero. Did I see his eyebrows go up, or was it the posturing of his whole body that expressed such eloquent irony? 'I have asked you already about the reports that have come to us that you are conspiring against the person of the consul—’

'And I have roundly denied them, and I ask you again: what reports, and from what sources?'

'You are the one who is here to answer questions, Catilina!'

'I am not on trial!'

'You mean to say that you have not been formally charged with a crime, but only because you have not yet had the opportunity to commit it,'

This brought on another uproar.

Above the din, Cicero shouted: 'And that is only because of the vigilance of your intended victim!' He crossed his arms and drew back his shoulders, wrapping himself in his toga as if to wrap himself in virtue, then seized the folds of cloth about his neck and drew them down to expose the glittering breastplate.

This provoked an even more raucous uproar. A group of the senators surrounding Catilina, presumably his allies, rose to their feet, some laughing, some shaking their fists and jeering. Instead of retreating, Cicero actually stepped towards them, baring more of his breastplate. Such brazenness only provoked an even louder uproar.

'This is worse than the mob in the Forum,' I whispered to Rufus.

'I've never seen it quite so chaotic,' he murmured. 'Even in the most passionate debates there's always a modicum of order and mutual respect, some humour to leaven the animosities, but today the whole chamber seems on the verge of a riot.'

Above the continued shouting of Catilina's supporters Cicero managed to make his voice heard. The power of his lungs was astounding. 'Do you deny that you have conspired to assassinate members of this august body?'

'Where is your evidence?' Catilina shouted back, barely audible above the roar of his own supporters.

'Do you deny that you have plotted to murder the duly elected consul of the Republic, and to do it on the next consular election day?'

'Again, where is your evidence?'

'Do you, Lucius Sergius Catilina, deny that your ultimate goal is to dismantle the state as we know it, and to do so by whatever means are necessary, no matter how violent or illegal?'

Catilina responded, but his voice was drowned out by his own supporters, giving Cicero, with his trumpet-like voice, the advantage. At last Catilina managed to quiet his own adherents, who returned to their seats. Catilina remained standing. 'With all due respect, the esteemed consul's accusations are deranged! He frets over the safety of the Republic like a mother afraid to let her child leave the house. Is the Republic so delicate that an honest election might kill it? Is he himself so vital to the state, is his insight so unique, that we would become blind men without him? Ah, yes, Cicero sees things that other men do not — but I ask you, is that good or bad?' This provoked some scattered laughter, and with it a marked lessening of tension. 'Contrary to what this New Man may think, the history of this Republic did not begin and will not end with his consulship.' At this there was more laughter and even some cheering.