Simon Scarrow - Street fighter

He cuffed them away before Lupus noticed, angry with himself. He had to be strong, or there would be no chance of saving his mother and himself. He had to remember his gladiator training which had taught him to withstand suffering, to bear pain and injustice without complaint. With an effort, he pushed the images of his mother aside and concentrated on the debate. He needed to think about how it could help his own cause.

Crassus had finished his speech, to mild applause from most of the senators, and loud cheers from the public. One of the senators close to Pompeius stood up to offer his support, before entering into a lengthy speech in praise of Pompeius. The great general accepted this with a modest nod of his head. When the senator had resumed his seat another figure rose to his feet. A complete contrast to the other senators, the tall, thin man was dressed in a simple beige toga over a brown tunic. He wore plain sandals and his hair looked unkempt. The muttering of the watching public died away.

‘Here comes trouble,’ said Lupus. ‘That’s Cato. One of our master’s bitterest enemies. And, incidentally, the father-in-law of the other consul, Bibulus.’

The senator glared round at the other senators and the watching public, before finally fixing his dark, piercing eyes on Caesar.

‘This measure,’ he began in an icy, contemptuous tone, ‘is little more than a brazen attempt to win the support of the mob for the personal political glory of Caesar and his puppet master, Gnaeus Pompeius. The fact that Senator Crassus has performed an about-turn to add his support to theirs smacks of a conspiracy aimed against the members of this house and the people of Rome!’

‘Ouch,’ Lupus muttered. ‘Caesar’s not going to like that.’

Marcus turned his gaze towards his master and saw that he sat as still as a statue, his face fixed in a calm expression of concentration. If he was hurt or angered by the accusation, no onlooker would have guessed it. Marcus felt a growing admiration for his master.

‘The land owned by the Republic is there for all the people!’ Cato thundered. ‘It is not the personal property of a general to distribute to his soldiers, however deserving they may be.’

His sarcastic tone was not lost on the onlookers and there were angry shouts from the crowd pressing round the windows.

‘Aristocratic scum!’ a voice close to Marcus yelled.

‘They want the land for themselves!’ yelled another.

Cato folded his arms and waited for the shouting to stop before he continued. ‘Whatever the merits of rewarding our soldiers, this measure is a dagger aimed at the heart of Rome. Caesar and his allies intend to tighten their grip on power. It is up to us, fathers of the nation.’ Cato swept his arms wide to indicate his fellow senators. ‘It is up to us to make a stand against these men, these powerful figures conspiring against us from the shadows.’

An older man at his side clapped his hands together in loud applause and other senators joined in.

‘That’s Cicero,’ Lupus explained. ‘He’s one of the wiliest jackals in Rome. He’ll argue black is white and have you believe it too, until the moment you trip over the truth and fall flat on your face. Cicero’s a man to keep an eye on — any devious back-room deal negotiated in Rome, you can be sure he’ll be in on it.’

As Cato resumed his address, Marcus couldn’t help wondering at the bitter rivalry between the members of the Senate. He had never really thought about politics before — Rome had seemed so far away from his old life. Titus had always regarded politicians with contempt and said that man for man they could never be a match for the general who had marched his armies across much of the known world. From what little Marcus had gleaned from Titus as he was growing up, and others he had encountered since being brought to Italia as a slave, the Senate was supposed to be where the finest minds of the Republic met to discuss and pass new laws. Yet now that he stood in front of these senators, Marcus was struck mostly by the fact that they seemed to hate one another.

Cato continued to talk and talk and talk, as the first hour of debate dragged on into the second, and on past noon. He piled one accusation and insult on top of another and then went on into a rambling account of the long history of resisting tyranny that stretched back over hundreds of years to the age in which the Roman people rose up against their last king, Tarquin the Proud, and first became a republic. At length some of the people gathered at the windows began to drift away. Marcus felt his feet begin to ache and he eased himself forward, resting his weight on the wooden rail. He had stopped listening to Cato and was bored. He was not the only one. Down on the senators’ benches, several older members had dozed off, heads slumped forwards. The snores of one spindly old man, slumped against the back of his bench, were clearly audible as Cato droned on. Marcus noticed that Caesar’s earlier patience had begun to crumble. Now he was openly scowling at Cato.

‘It’s as the master anticipated,’ said Lupus. ‘Cato means to talk out the proposal.’

‘What does that mean?’ asked Marcus.

‘It means that if he keeps talking until sunset, then the clerk has to postpone the debate until the next day. If he does it tomorrow the measure will be put back again.’

‘Is he allowed to do that?’

‘It’s in the rules,’ Lupus shrugged. ‘That’s politics for you.’

‘Surely our master won’t allow him to get away with it.’

‘No. He won’t. But equally he doesn’t want to be seen breaking the rules to push the measure through. Not if he can help it.’

Marcus looked down towards the two consuls sitting in their special chairs. Caesar was frowning as his fingers drummed on the arm of his chair. Bibulus sat beside him — a faint smile on his face as he folded his hands together contentedly.

An hour after noon Cato paused momentarily to sit down and send a clerk to fetch him a drink. At once Caesar was on his feet.

‘I thank Senator Cato for his contribution to the debate. I’m sure we’ve all enjoyed the history lesson.’

Several of the senators laughed. Cato rose up, shaking his head as he raised his arms to draw attention to himself. ‘I have not concluded my speech!’

‘But you have,’ Caesar insisted with a smile. ‘When you took your seat again.’

‘I was merely pausing. I have not finished.’

‘You have said more than enough already, and tested our patience to the limit,’ Caesar responded firmly.

‘I will not yield my right to speak until I am ready to,’ Cato countered.

‘You have abused your right,’ argued Caesar. ‘You have made your opposition to my measure clear to all. Now it is the turn of someone else.’

‘That is for me to decide! I will not stand down.’

‘Then you are refusing to respect the rules of the Senate.’

Caesar sat down and clicked his fingers towards the lictors standing behind the consuls’ chairs. ‘Remove that man from the Senate House!’

A series of gasps and mutterings came from the senators. After a brief hesitation the leader of the lictors gestured to his men and they strode up between the stone benches and surrounded Cato, who folded his arms and stood his ground defiantly. When he refused to budge, two of the lictors took him by the arms and dragged him towards the aisle.

‘You can’t do this!’ Bibulus protested loudly. ‘This is an outrage!’

‘And Cato’s actions are against the rules,’ Caesar responded. ‘He has made his point and now he is obstructing a free and fair debate. We shall continue without him.’

Marcus watched in astonishment as Cato was dragged out of the chamber and pushed a short distance down the steps outside. He made an attempt to re-enter but the lictors firmly barred his way. Inside the chamber Bibulus had risen to his feet, his face almost purple with rage.