Robert Harris - Lustrum

I found myself secretly observing him, for he fascinated me, and still does. In truth I believe he was the most melancholy man I ever met. The blight of his life was Pompey, who had replaced him as supreme commander in the East and who had then, through his allies in the senate, blocked Lucullus's hopes of a triumph. Many men would have accepted this, but not Lucullus. He had everything in the world he wanted except the one thing he most desired. So he flatly refused to enter Rome or surrender his command, and instead diverted his talents and ambition into creating ever more elaborate fish ponds. He became bored and listless, his domestic life unhappy. He was married twice, the first time to one of the sisters of Clodius, from whom he separated in scandalous circumstances, alleging that she had committed incest with her brother, who had then encouraged a mutiny against Lucullus in the East. The second marriage, which still endured, was to a sister of Cato, but she was also said to be flighty and unfaithful: I never set eyes on her, so I cannot judge. I did however meet her child, Lucullus's young son, then two years old, who was brought out by his nurse to kiss his father good night. Seeing the way Lucullus treated him, I could tell he loved the lad deeply. But the moment the child had gone away to bed, the veils came down once more over Lucullus's large blue eyes and he resumed his joyless chomping.

'So,' he said eventually, between mouthfuls, 'my triumph?' There was a fragment of fish stuck on his cheek that he didn't know about. It was peculiarly distracting.

'Yes,' repeated Cicero, 'your triumph. I was thinking of laying a motion before the senate straight after the recess.'

'And will it pass?'

'I don't believe in calling votes that I can't win.'

The chomp, chomp continued for a while longer.

'Pompey won't be pleased.'

'Pompey will have to accept that others are allowed to triumph in this republic as well as he.'

'And what's in it for you?'

'The honour of proposing your eternal glory.'

'Balls.' Lucullus finally wiped his mouth and the particle of fish disappeared. 'You've really travelled fifty miles in a day just to tell me this? You can't expect me to believe it.'

'Oh dear, you're too shrewd for me, Imperator! Very well, I confess I also wanted to have a political talk with you.'

'Go on.'

'I believe we are drifting towards calamity.' Cicero pushed away his plate and, summoning all his eloquence, proceeded to describe the state of the republic in the starkest terms, dwelling especially on Caesar's support for Catilina, and Catilina's revolutionary programme of cancelling debts and seizing the property of the rich. He did not have to point out what a threat this posed to Lucullus, reclining in his palace amid all his silk and gold: it was perfectly obvious. Our host's face became grimmer and grimmer, and when Cicero had finished, he took his time before replying.

'So it is your firm opinion that Catilina could win the consulship?'

'It is. Silanus will take the first place and he the second.'

'Well then, we have to stop him.'

'I agree.'

'So what do you propose?'

'That is why I've come. I'd like you to stage your triumph just before the consular elections.'

'Why?'

'For the purpose of your procession, I assume you plan to bring into Rome several thousand of your veterans from all across Italy?'

'Naturally.'

'Whom you will entertain lavishly, and reward generously out of the spoils of your victory?'

'Of course.'

'And who will therefore listen to your advice about whom to support in the consular elections?'

'I would like to think so.'

'In which case, I know just the candidate they should vote for.'

'I thought you might,' said Lucullus with a cynical smile. 'You have in mind your great ally Servius.'

'Oh no. Not him. The poor fool doesn't stand a chance. No, I'm thinking of your old legate – and their former comrade-in-arms – Lucius Murena.'

Accustomed though I was to the twists and turns of Cicero's stratagems, it had never crossed my mind that he might abandon Servius so readily. For a moment I could not believe what I had just heard. Lucullus looked equally surprised. 'I thought Servius was one of your closest friends?'

'This is the Roman republic, not a coterie of friends. My heart certainly urges me to vote for Servius. But my head tells me he can't beat Catilina. Whereas Murena, with your backing, might just be able to manage it.'

Lucullus frowned. 'I have a problem with Murena. His closest lieutenant in Gaul is that depraved monster, my former brother-in-law – a man whose name is so disgusting to me I refuse to pollute my mouth by even uttering it.'

'Well then, let me utter it for you. Clodius is not a man I have any great liking for myself. But in politics one cannot always pick and choose one's enemies, let alone one's friends. To save the republic, I must abandon an old and dear companion. To save the republic, you must embrace the ally of your bitterest foe.' He leaned across the table, and added softly, 'Such is politics, Imperator, and if ever the day comes when we lack the stomach for such work, we should get out of public life and stick to breeding fish!'

For a moment I feared he had gone too far. Lucullus threw down his napkin and swore that he would not be blackmailed into betraying his principles. But as usual Cicero had judged his man well. He let Lucullus rant on for a while, and when he had finished he made no response, but simply gazed across the bay and sipped his wine. The silence seemed to go on for a very long time. The moon above the water cast a path of shimmering silver. Finally, in a voice leaden with suppressed anger, Lucullus said that he supposed Murena might make a decent enough consul if he was willing to take advice, whereupon Cicero promised to lay the issue of his triumph before the senate as soon as the recess ended.

Neither man having much appetite left for further conversation, we all retired early to our rooms. I had not long been in mine when I heard a gentle knocking at the door. I opened it, and there stood Agathe. She came in without a word. I assumed she had been sent by Lucullus's steward, and told her it was not necessary, but as she climbed into my bed she assured me it was of her own volition, and so I joined her. We talked between caresses, and she told me something of herself – of how her parents, now dead, had been led back as slaves from the East as part of Lucullus's war booty, and how she could just vaguely remember the village in Greece where they had lived. She had worked in the kitchens, and now she looked after the imperator's guests. In due course, as her looks faded, she would return to the kitchens, if she was lucky; if not, it would be the fields, and an early death. She talked about all this without any self-pity, as one might describe the life of a horse or a dog. Cato called himself a stoic, I thought, but this girl really was one, smiling at her fate and armoured against despair by her dignity. I said as much to her, and she laughed.

'Come, Tiro,' she said, holding up her arms and beckoning me to her, 'no more solemn words. Here is my philosophy: enjoy such brief ecstasy as the gods permit us, for it is only in these moments that men and women are truly not alone.'

When I awoke with the dawn she had gone.

Do I surprise you, reader? I remember I surprised myself. After so many years of chastity, I had ceased even to imagine such things and was content to leave them to the poets: 'What life is there, what delight, without golden Aphrodite?' Knowing the words was one thing; I never expected to know their meaning.

I had hoped we might stay for one more night at least, but the next morning Cicero announced that we were leaving. Secrecy was absolutely vital to his plans, and the longer he lingered in Misenum, the more he feared his presence would become known. So after a final brief conference with Lucullus, we set off back in the closed carriage. As we descended towards the coastal road, I stared back at the house over my shoulder. There were many slaves to be seen, working in the gardens and moving beneath the various parts of the great villa, preparing it for another perfect spring day. Cicero was also looking back.