Robert Harris - Lustrum

'Quintus Lutatius Catulus has proposed that we adopt the Final Act,' said Hybrida. 'Does anyone wish to oppose it?'

All heads now turned to Caesar, not least because the legitimacy of the Final Act was the central issue at the heart of the prosecution of Rabirius. But Caesar, for the first time in my experience, looked utterly overwhelmed by events. He noticeably did not exchange a word with his neighbour, Crassus, or even glance at him – a rare occurrence, as normally they were very thick together – and I deduced from this that Crassus's betrayal of Catilina had taken him entirely by surprise. He made no gesture of any sort, but stared straight ahead into the middle distance, thus giving some of us an early preview of those marble busts of him that gaze impassively with sightless eyes across every public building in Italy.

'Then if no one opposes it,' said Hybrida, 'the motion passes, and the chair recognises Marcus Tullius Cicero.'

Only now did Cicero rise, to a deep rumble of acclaim from those selfsame senators who just a few weeks earlier had been mocking him for his alarmism. 'Gentlemen,' he said, 'I wish to congratulate Antonius Hybrida for the very firm manner in which he has handled this crisis today.' The senators murmured in approval; Hybrida beamed. 'For my own part, trusting in the shield provided by my friends and allies, I shall remain in Rome and continue to defy this murderous madman Catilina, as I always have. Because no one can say how long this threat will continue, I hereby ask formally to be relieved of my allotted province, in accordance with the promise I made at the start of my consulship – a promise all the more urgent in this hour of trial for our republic.'

Cicero's patriotic self-sacrifice was warmly approved, and Hybrida at once produced the sacred urn and put into it one marked token representing Nearer Gaul and seven blanks – or so it appeared. In fact, I learned later, he had put in only blanks. The eight praetors then came forward. The first to try his luck was the haughty figure of Lentulus Sura, whom Cicero knew to be deeply involved in Catilina's schemes. Sura, one of the most inbred boobies in the senate, was closely related to Hybrida in all sorts of ways: for one thing, he had married the widow of Hybrida's brother, and was bringing up the son of that union, Mark Antony, as his own; and this same Mark Antony was engaged to Hybrida's daughter, Antonia. So I watched Hybrida closely, to see if he would be able to go through with the deception he had promised. But politics has loyalties all of its own, and they greatly supersede those to in-laws. Sura thrust his arm deep into the urn and handed his token to Hybrida, who announced it blank and showed it to the chamber. Sura shrugged and turned away; it wasn't a province he was after in any case, but Rome itself.

Pomptinus went next, and then Flaccus, with the same result. Celer was fourth to draw a lot. He looked very cool as he made his way to the dais and picked his token. Hybrida took it from him and seemed to turn away, towards the light, to read it carefully, and that is when he must have made the switch, for when he held it up for inspection, everyone nearby could clearly see the cross that was marked upon it.

'Celer draws Nearer Gaul!' he announced. 'May the gods favour his appointment.'

There was applause. Cicero was on his feet at once.

'I propose that Quintus Caecilius Metellus Celer be now invested with full military imperium, and be given the authority to raise an army to defend his province.'

'Does anyone object?' asked Hybrida.

For a moment I thought Crassus was going to get to his feet. He seemed to half lean forwards, hesitate, and then think better of it.

'The motion is passed unanimously.'

After the senate adjourned, Cicero and Hybrida convened a council of war with all the praetors to issue the necessary edicts for the defence of the city. A message was dispatched at once to the commander of the garrison at Praeneste, ordering him to strengthen the guard. A long-standing offer from the prefect of Reate to send a hundred men was accepted. In Rome the gates were to be closed an hour earlier than usual. There would be a curfew at the twelfth hour and street patrols throughout the night. The ancient prohibition on carrying arms within the precincts of the city would be suspended in the case of soldiers loyal to the senate. Wagons would be searched at random. Access to the Palatine would be blocked at sunset. All the gladiator schools in and around the capital would be closed and the fighters dispersed to distant towns and colonies. Huge rewards, of up to one hundred thousand sesterces, were to be offered to anyone – slaves as well as freemen – with information about potential traitors. Celer would leave at first light to begin mustering fresh levies of troops. Finally it was agreed that various reliable men should be approached and asked to bring a prosecution against Catilina for violence against the state, in return for guarantees of their personal protection.

Throughout all this Lentulus Sura sat calmly, with his freedman Publius Umbrenus seated beside him taking notes, and afterwards Cicero complained bitterly to me of this absurdity: that two of the chief plotters should be able to attend the innermost security council of the state and report back on its decisions to their fellow criminals! But what could he do? It was the same old story: he had no evidence.

Cicero's guards were anxious to get him home before darkness fell, and so once the business was concluded we went out cautiously into the thickening twilight and then hurried across the forum, through Subura and up the Esquiline Hill. About an hour later, Cicero was in his study composing dispatches notifying the provincial governors of the senate's decisions when the guard dog set up its infernal barking again. Moments later the porter came in to tell us that Metellus Celer had arrived to see the consul and was waiting in the atrium.

It was obvious straight away that Celer was agitated. He was pacing around the room and cracking his knuckles, while Quintus and Titus Sextus kept a careful watch on him from the passageway.

'Well, Governor,' said Cicero, seeing at once that his visitor needed calming down, 'the afternoon went smoothly enough, I thought.'

'From your point of view, perhaps, but my brother isn't happy. I told you there'd be trouble. Nepos says that if the rebels in Etruria are as serious as we make out, Pompey himself should be brought home to deal with them.'

'But we haven't the time to wait for Pompey and his army to travel a thousand miles back to Rome. We'll all be slaughtered in our beds long before he gets here.'

'So you say, but Catilina swears he means no threat to the state, and insists those letters have nothing to do with him.'

'You've spoken to him?'

'He came to see me just after you left the senate. To prove his peaceful intentions he's offered to surrender himself into my personal custody for as long as I wish.'

'Ha! What a rogue! You sent him away with a flea in his ear, I trust?'

'No, I've brought him here to see you.'

' Here? He's in my house?'

'No, he's waiting in the street. I think you should talk to him. He's alone and unarmed – I'll vouch for him.'

'Even if he is, what possible good can come of talking to him?'

'He's a Sergius, Consul,' said Celer icily, 'descended from the Trojans. He deserves some respect for his blood, if nothing else.'

Cicero glanced at the Sextus brothers. Titus shrugged. 'If he's on his own, Consul, we can handle him.'

'Fetch him in then, Celer,' said Cicero, 'and I'll hear what he has to say. But I promise you, we're wasting our time.'

I was horrified that Cicero would take such a risk, and while Celer went off to get Catilina, I actually dared to remonstrate with him. But he cut me off. 'It will show good faith on my part if I can announce in the senate that at least I was willing to receive the villain. Who knows, anyway? Perhaps he's come to apologise.'