Robert Harris - Lustrum

He forced a smile, but I could tell that this unexpected development had strained his nerves. As for me, I felt like one of the condemned men in the Games, when the tiger is let into the arena, for that was how Catilina came prowling into that room – wild and wary, full of barely suppressed fury: I half expected him to spring at Cicero's throat. The Sextus brothers stepped in close behind him as he came to a halt a couple of paces in front of Cicero. He raised his hand in mock salute. 'Consul.'

'Say your piece, Senator, and then get out.'

'I hear you've been spreading lies about me again.'

'You see?' said Cicero, turning to Celer. 'What did I tell you? This is pointless.'

'Just hear him out,' said Celer.

'Lies,' repeated Catilina. 'I don't know a damned thing about these letters people are saying I sent last night. I'd have to be a rare fool to dispatch such messages all across the city.'

'I'm willing to believe that you personally didn't send them,' replied Cicero, 'but there are plenty of men around you stupid enough to do such a thing.'

'Balls! They're blatant forgeries. D'you know what I think? I think you wrote them yourself.'

'You'd do better to direct your suspicions towards Crassus – he's the one who's used them as an excuse to turn his back on you.'

'Old Baldhead is playing his own game, the same as he always does.'

'And the rebels in Etruria? Are they nothing to do with you either?'

'They're poor and starving wretches, driven to desperate lengths by the moneylenders – they have my sympathy, but I'm not their leader. I'll make the same offer to you I've made to Celer. I'll surrender myself into your custody and live in this house where you and your guards can keep an eye on me, and then you can see how innocent I am.'

'That is not an offer but a joke! If I don't feel safe living in the same city as you, I'll hardly feel safe under the same roof.'

'So there's nothing I can do that will satisfy you?'

'Yes. Remove yourself from Rome and Italy entirely. Go into exile. Never return.'

Catilina's eyes glittered and his large hands contracted into fists. 'My first ancestor was Sergestus, companion of Aeneas, the founder of our city – and you dare to tell me to leave?'

'Oh, spare us the family folklore! Mine at least is a serious offer. If you go into exile, I'll see to it that no harm befalls your wife and children. Your sons won't suffer the shame of having a father who is condemned – because you will be condemned, Catilina, be in no doubt about that. You'll also escape your creditors, which I'd have thought was another consideration.'

'And what about my friends? How long will they be subjected to your dictatorship?'

'My dictatorship, as you call it, is only in force to protect us all against you. Once you're gone it won't be needed, and I for one would be pleased to start afresh and offer a clean slate to all men. Voluntary exile would be a noble course, Catilina – one worthy of those ancestors you're always talking about.'

'So now the grandson of a chickpea farmer presumes to lecture a Sergius on what is noble? He'll be telling you next, Celer!' Celer stared stiffly ahead, like a soldier on parade. 'Look at him,' sneered Catilina. 'Typical Metelli – they always prosper whatever happens. But you realise, Cicero, that secretly he despises you? They all do. I at least have the guts to say to your face what they only whisper behind your back. They may use you to protect their precious property. But once you've done their dirty work they'll want nothing more to do with you. Destroy me if you will; in the end you'll only destroy yourself.'

He turned on his heel, pushed past the Sextus brothers, and strode out of the house. Cicero said, 'Why is it he always seems to leave a smell of sulphur behind him?'

'Do you think he'll go into exile?' asked Celer.

'He might. I don't think he knows from one moment to the next what he's going to do. He's like an animal: he'll follow whatever impulse seizes him. The main thing is to maintain our guard and vigilance – I in the city, you in the countryside.'

'I'll leave at first light.' Celer made a move towards the door, then stopped and turned. 'By the way, all that stuff about us despising you – there's not a word of truth in it, you know.'

'I know that, Celer, thank you.' Cicero smiled at him, and maintained the smile until he heard the door close, at which point it slowly faded from his face. He sank back on to the nearest chair and held out his hands, palms upward, contemplating them in wonder, as if their violent trembling was the strangest thing he had ever seen.

The following day, Quintus came to see Cicero in great excitement, bearing a copy of a letter that had been posted outside the offices of the tribunes. It was addressed to a number of prominent senators, among them Catulus, Caesar and Lepidus, and was signed by Catilina: Unable to withstand that group of enemies who have persecuted me with false charges, I have departed for exile in Massilia. I leave not because I am guilty of the heinous crimes of which I am accused but to preserve the peace of the state and to spare the republic the bloodshed that would ensue if I struggled against my fate. I commend my wife and family to your care and my honour to your memories. Farewell!

'Congratulations, brother,' said Quintus, clapping him on the back. 'You've seen him off.'

'But is this certain?'

'As certain as can be. He was seen early this morning riding out of the city with a few companions. His house is locked and deserted.'

Cicero winced and tugged at his ear lobe. 'Even so, something about it smells wrong to me.'

Quintus, who had hurried up the hill specially to convey the good news, was irritated by his caution. 'Catilina's been obliged to flee. It's tantamount to a confession. You've beaten him.'

And slowly, as the days passed and nothing was heard of Catilina, it did begin to seem that Quintus was right. Nevertheless, Cicero refused to relax the security restrictions in Rome; indeed, he went around with even more protection than before. Accompanied by a dozen men, he ventured outside the city to see Quintus Metellus, who still possessed military imperium, and asked him to go to the heel of Italy and take charge of the region of Apulia. The old man grumbled, but Cicero swore that after this last mission his triumph was assured, and Metellus – secretly glad to have something to occupy him, I suspect – set off at once. Another former consul also hoping for a triumph, Marcius Rex, went north to Faesulae. The praetor Q. Pompeius Rufus, whom Cicero trusted, was ordered to go to Capua to raise troops. Meanwhile Metellus Celer continued recruiting an army in Picenum.

At some point during this time, the rebel leader Manlius sent a message to the senate: We call on gods and men to witness that our object in taking up arms was not to attack our country or endanger others, but to protect ourselves from wrong. We are poor needy wretches; the cruel harshness of moneylenders has robbed most of us of our homes, and all of us have lost reputation and fortune. He demanded that every debt contracted in silver (as most debts were) be repaid in copper: an effective relief of three quarters. Cicero proposed sending a stern reply that there could be no negotiations until the rebels laid down their arms. The motion carried in the senate, but many outside whispered that the rebels' cause was just.

October gave way to November. The days began to be dark and cold; the people of Rome grew weary and depressed. The curfew had put a stop to many of those entertainments with which they normally warded off the encroaching gloom of winter. The taverns and the baths closed early; the shops were bare. Informers, eager for the huge rewards for denouncing traitors, took the opportunity to pay back scores against their neighbours. Everyone suspected everyone else. Matters became so serious that eventually Atticus bravely took it upon himself to talk to Cicero.