'And why not?' demanded the merchant. As the crowd grew more animated, his slaves drew around him in a protective ring, like trained mastiffs. 'Catilina should already be dead. Cicero's only fault is that he didn't have the fiend strangled while he was still in Rome. Instead, he continues with his plots, and you see where it's led — Romans plotting with barbarians to stage their revolt! It's disgraceful.' This set off a round of jeering from the farmer's contingent, and an equally vociferous response from those who agreed with the merchant,
I touched the shoulder of the man called Gaius, who claimed to live nearby. 'I've just come from up north,' I said. '"What's happened?'
He turned around and peered at us with eyes puffy from lack of sleep. His chinless jaw was grizzled and his hair unkempt. 'Here,' he said, 'let's step away from the crowd. I can't hear myself think! I've told the story a hundred times already this morning, but I'll tell it again.' He sighed in mock weariness, but I could see he was only too happy to recount his tale to anyone who hadn't yet heard it. The men in the crowd were too busy arguing to listen to him any longer. 'Are you headed into the city?'
'Yes.'
"They'll all be talking about it there, have no doubt. You can tell them you heard the facts from a true witness.' He looked at me gravely to see that I grasped the importance of this.
'Yes, go on.'
'Last night, long after I was in bed, they came banging on my door.'
'Who?'
'A praetor, he said he was. Imagine that! By the name of Lucius Flaccus. On a mission from the consul himself, he said. Surrounded by a whole company of men all wrapped up in dark cloaks. And all carrying short swords, like the men in the legions do. He told me not to be afraid. Said they'd be spending the night in my house. Asked to put his horses away in my stable, so I sent a slave to show his men. Asked if there was a window where he could keep an eye on the bridge. Asked if I was a patriot, and I told him of course I was. Said if that was true, then he knew he could trust me to keep quiet and out of the way, but gave me a piece of silver anyway. Well, that's customary, isn't it, to pay something when soldiers put themselves up in the house of a citizen?'
'But these men weren't soldiers, were they?' said Meto.
'Well, no, I suppose not. They weren't dressed like soldiers, anyway. But they came from the consul. The Senate passed a decree last month — you must have heard about it — charging the consuls to protect the state by whatever means are necessary. So it's not a big surprise to see armed men being sent around by the consul, is it? Of course, I never thought I'd find myself in the middle of it!' He shook his head, smiling faintly. 'Anyway, the praetor stations himself at the window and opens the shutters — well, lean forward a bit and you can see it from here, how that side of my house looks out over the river and the bridge. He sent one of his men to bring him a bit of burning wood from my brazier, then held it up in the window and waved it. And do you see that other house just opposite mine, across the river? From a window in that house someone else waved a bit of flame in answer. So they had men hidden away in houses on both sides of the bridge, don't you see? An ambush for somebody. I could see that myself, even without being told.'
He paused and peered at us, making sure we had absorbed the full drama of the situation. 'Yes,' I said, 'go on.'
'Well, the night drew on, but I couldn't sleep, of course, and neither could my wife or children. But we couldn't have any light, so we sat in darkness. The praetor never left the window. His men huddled together, wrapped up in their cloaks, talking to each other in low voices. It was some time between midnight and dawn when we heard the clatter of hooves on the bridge — it was a clear, cold night with hardly a sound besides the water in the river, and the noise on the bridge carried like drumbeats. Quite a few horses, it must have been. The praetor went stiff at the window, watching, and the men sucked in their breaths. I stood across the room, but I could see over the praetor's shoulder. That bit of fire appeared again at the window across the way. "This is it!" said the praetor, and the men were on their feet in an instant, with their swords already drawn. I just stood back and flattened myself against the wall to keep out of their way as they rushed out of the door.
'There was quite a racket on the bridge then, enough to wake the lemures of the drowned — men rushing onto the bridge from both ends and the clatter of horses in the middle, along with shouts and curses, some of it in that awful tongue the Gauls use.'
'Gauls?' said Meto.
'Yes, some of the men on the bridge were Gauls, from the tribe of the Allobroges, as the praetor told me afterwards. The others were Romans, though they don't deserve the name. Traitors!'
'How do you know this?' I said.
'Because the praetor Lucius Flaccus told me. After the ambush, he was quite proud of himself, flushed with excitement, I guess, after all that waiting, and then—' He clapped his hands. 'To have it all over so fast, just as he wanted, I suppose. Not a drop of blood was shed; at least you can't see any on the bridge this morning. The traitors were pulled from their horses, disarmed and bound. Once it was all over, Flaccus thanked me and slapped me on the back and told me I had done my part to save the Republic. Well, I told him I was proud, but I'd be even prouder if I knew what had happened. "It will be on everyone's tongue soon enough," he said, "but why shouldn't you know before the rest? These men we've just arrested are part of a conspiracy to bring down the Republic!"
' "Catilina's men?" I asked him. Living on the highway as I do, I keep up with what's happening in Rome, so I know the problems that the consul's been having with that scoundrel.
' "We shall see," said the praetor. "The proof of that maybe here." And he held up some documents, all of them tightly rolled and sealed with wax. "Letters from the traitors to their fellow conspirators; we'll leave them for the consul to open," he said. "But there's the worst evidence against them — the Gauls who were travelling with them" He pointed towards a group of barbarians in leather breeches who were still sitting on their horses.
' "Enemies?" I said, not understanding why they hadn't been dragged from their horses and bound as well.
' "No," said the praetor, "loyal friends, as it turns out Those men are official envoys of a tribe called the Allobroges, who live in the province of Gallia Narbonensis, beyond the Alps, under Roman rule. The traitors tried to bring them into their plot. They wanted the Allobroges to make war up in Gaul, to de up the troops there while the traitors carried out their revolt in Rome. Imagine, turning to foreigners to make war against fellow Romans! Can you think of anything more despicable?" I told him I could not. "These conspirators are men without honour or loyalty," he said. "You'd think the mere fact of being Roman would've stopped them from even contemplating such foul crimes, but men like these have no respect for either their country or the gods. Fortunately, the Allobroges betrayed the plot to their Roman patron, who in turn revealed it to Cicero, whose eyes and ears are everywhere. The traitors, still thinking the Allobroges were on their side, dispatched their messages with the barbarians to carry word to Catilina and on up to Gaul. But this is as far as they got. We'll be taking them back to Rome now. The Senate and the people can decide what to do with these scum." '
The man paused, both for breath and for dramatic effect. He had delivered his long monologue with considerable skill, no doubt having honed it with each successive repetition. 'Well, I haven't slept at all since I was roused from my bed last night, as you can imagine. Too scared at first, then too excited after it was all over. Then dawn came, and all the neighbours wanted to know what the noise was about in the middle of the night — they thought they were hearing bandits or runaway gladiators and closed their shutters tight. So I found myself standing here telling the tale, and every traveller on the road wants to hear it.' He suddenly stretched his jaws in a great yawn and wiped the sleepiness from his eyes. 'Ah, well, it's not every day that such mighty events take place right under a man's nose. Like the praetor said, I've done my part to save the Republic!'
Just then, a clump of horse dung came sailing through the air and struck the side of the man's head. He gave a yelp and clutched his ear in confusion.
'Jupiter turn you into a toad!' shouted a shrill voice, which I recognized as that of the pro-Catilinarian farmer. It was he who had thrown the dung; his target had been the wealthy merchant, who was more adept at ducking than I would have thought.
'How dare you?' shouted the merchant
'Keep your filthy slaves away from me!' screamed the farmer, who was suddenly surrounded.
I saw the glint of steel in the crowd and clutched at Meto's arm, but he was already ahead of me. We mounted our horses while the driver set the wagon in motion. Midway across the bridge — in the very place where the praetor Lucius Flaccus had intercepted the plotters and their unfaithful Gallic allies — I looked back. The incident had erupted into a small riot. Missiles of dung were thick in the air, as was the roar of vile curses. The angry farmer came staggering out of the crowd, supported by a few allies. He clutched his head with both hands. Trickles of blood streamed down his forearms. The proud witness Gaius, meanwhile, had made a strategic retreat to his house by the river, where he stood watching from the doorway, yawning with his eyes open wide.
Rome, I thought, is like Bethesda. Just as I have learned to sense my wife's moods by the most subtle signs — the angle at which she holds her head, the disarrangement of a comb and brush on her table, the way she takes a breath — so I have learned to gauge the mood of the city by small manifestations. Forewarned by the news at the Milvian Bridge, my eyes were keen for signals. Shopkeepers were shooing customers from their counters and closing their doors early. Taverns were filled to overflowing. I saw few women about. Gangs of boys ran through the streets, while men stood on corners in small crowds and debated. Among those who went about their business on horseback or on foot, there appeared to be a strong general drift towards the Forum; some proceeded to the centre swiftly and surely, while others seemed drawn inward in a spiral approach, like bits of straw circling an eddy. So strong was this impression that as we made our way up the Subura Way to Eco's house, I felt as if we were swimmers working against a slow but steady current.
Menenia greeted us. As Diana ran to leap into her arms, I asked for Eco, and received the answer I expected. 'He went to the Forum, only a little while ago,' she said. "They say Cicero will be addressing the people this afternoon. We didn't know how soon to expect you, but Eco said that if you came in time you should go down to the Forum and try to find him.'
'I think not—' I began to say, imagining the scene, but Meto interrupted.
'Shall we take the horses or walk, Papa?' he said, looking at me eagerly. 'I'm for walking, myself My backside aches from all that riding! Besides, it's always so hard to find a place to leave the horses, and it's not that far.. ' We decided to walk.
The sensation of being caught in a current grew stronger and stronger as we neared the Forum. Just as a stream grows swifter as it narrows, so the traffic of bodies hastened and grew more congested. By the time we came to the Forum itself, the crowd was quite thick. Rumours swirled all around us like darting fish, and from passing tongues I heard the same words over and over: 'Traitors… Allobroges… Cicero… Catilina…"
It would be impossible to find Eco in such a press of bodies, I thought, but in the next instant Meto waved and called out his name. An arm rose above the crowd nearby, and beneath it I saw Eco's surprised and anxious face.
'Meto! Papa! I didn't know if you'd get here so early. Did you go to the house first? Hurry, I think he's already begun.' Indeed, far ahead of us I heard echoes of a distinctly familiar voice.
We headed towards the open space in front of the Temple of Concord. Behind the temple the cliff of the Arx rose steeply. To our right stood the Senate House and the Rostra, from which Cicero had many years ago made his speech in defence of Sextus Roscius. To the left was the foot of the path ascending to the summit of the Capitoline Hill and the Arx. It was to the Temple of Concord that the prisoners had been taken after their arrest at the Milvian Bridge, and it was here that the Senate had been hastily convened to discuss the matter. Now Cicero had emerged from within and was addressing the crowd from the top of the steps leading into the temple. Beside him, conspicuous for its gleaming newness and the splendour of its workmanship, was a massive bronze statue of Jupiter. The Father of the Gods sat upon his throne, magnificently muscled and heavily bearded, a bundle of thunderbolts grasped in one hand, a sphere cradled in the other, with rays of lightning emanating from his brow. Beside him, Cicero looked quite small and mortal, but his voice was as thunderous as ever.
'Romans! To be rescued from danger, to be snapped from the jaws of certain doom, to be lifted up from a sea of destruction — is there any experience more joyful, more exhilarating? You have been rescued, Romans! Your city has been rescued! Rejoice! Praise the gods!
'Yes, rescued, for under the entire city, beneath every house and temple and shrine, the kindling for the holocaust had been secretly prepared. The flames were nickering — but we stamped them out! Swords were raised against the people, pressed against your very throats — but we knocked those swords aside and blunted them with our bare hands! This morning, before the Senate, I revealed the truth of the matter. Now, fellow citizens, I shall briefly convey the facts directly to you, so that you may know for yourselves the danger that was bravely faced and fended off. I shall tell you how, in the name of Rome and by the grace of the gods, this danger was detected, investigated, uncovered, and cut short.
'First of all, when Catilina broke out of town some days ago, or more precisely, when I drove him away — yes, I proudly take credit for running him off, no longer afraid you will censure me for doing so; more worried, in fact, that you will blame me for letting him leave with his life — when Catilina left, it was my hope that he would take all his foul associates with him and we would be rid of that scum for good! Alas, more than a few of these odious intriguers stayed behind, intent on acting out their criminal designs. Your consul has kept a constant watch since then, fellow citizens; indeed, I have hardly allowed myself to sleep, or even blink, knowing that sooner or later they would strike. But even I have been taken aback at the enormity of their madness. You would hardly believe it yourselves if I did not have the proof to show you. But believe it you must, for the sake of your own self-preservation!
'It came to my ears that the praetor Publius Lentulus — yes, citizens, "Legs" Lentulus; save your laughter until you've heard the worst! — was trying to corrupt the envoys of the Allobroges, hoping to set off an insurrection beyond the Alps. These envoys were to set off for Gaul yesterday, with letters and instructions, accompanied by one of Lentulus's henchmen, Titus Volturcius, who was also given a letter addressed to Catilina.
'By Hercules, I thought, the chance had come at last, the opportunity I prayed the gods would send — a way to prove once and for all the depth of these men's degeneracy and their hatred for Rome, irrefutable proof that I could lay before the Senate and the people. Yesterday, then, I summoned two valiant and loyal praetors, Lucius Flaccus and Gaius Pomptinus, and explained the situation. Being men of irreproachable patriotism, they accepted my orders without hesitation. As night fell, they made their way secretly to the Milvian Bridge, divided their forces into two detachments on either side of the Tiber, and hid themselves in the nearest houses. Then they waited.
'In the early hours of this morning their patience was rewarded. The envoys of the Allobroges reached the bridge, accompanied by Volturcius and a retinue of his traitorous companions. Our men burst upon them and encircled them. Swords were drawn, but the praetors wielded the advantage of surprise, and when the Allobroges unexpectedly drew aside rather than join in their defence, Volturcius and his men lost heart and surrendered. The letters were handed over to the praetors with their seals intact. Volturcius and his men were taken into custody and delivered to my doorstep just as dawn was breaking. I immediately summoned those men whose seals were upon the letters, or who were otherwise most deeply implicated, among them that notorious hothead Gaius Cethegus and, of course, Lentulus, who arrived a slow last, despite the reputation of his legs. Perhaps he was sleepy from staying up late, writing incriminating letters!
'Many of our leading statesmen called upon me during the morning. They advised me to go ahead and open the sealed letters myself, so that if I was mistaken as to their contents, I would be spared any embarrassment. But I insisted that they should be unsealed and read before the Senate, and if I was embarrassed, so be it; there is no shame in being overzealous in the defence of freedom! So I hastily convened an emergency meeting of the Senate, here in the Temple of Concord. Remember the significance of this temple and what it commemorates: the harmony of the orders, the happy coexistence and cooperation of the classes, for it is all Romans — plebeians and patricians, rich and poor, freedmen and freeborn alike — who have been saved this day from the calamity that menaced all Rome.
'First Volturcius was summoned to testify before the Senate. The man was in such a panic he could hardly speak. To loosen his tongue, he was given a promise of immunity — he was only a mere messenger boy, after all, though a knowledgeable one, as it turns out. This stumbling footman comes from Croto, down in the toe of Italy. Oh, but a canker on the toe was enough to cripple the schemes of "Legs" Lentulus!'
I took a breath and looked around me. The crowd was laughing, as they laughed at all of Cicero's word games. Even in the more sophisticated arena of the Senate, it was said that he could never resist a pun, no matter how awful, especially if it contained an insult for his enemies. Even Eco was smiling, I noticed, though Meto was not. His face was tightly drawn and his eyes narrowed, as if he wrested with a deeper and darker puzzle than Cicero's wordplay.
‘What did Volturcius reveal? I will, tell you: first, that Lentulus had given him messages and a letter for Catilina, urging him to mobilize an army of slaves and march on Rome.' At this the crowd's laughter ceased and there were cries of anger and dismay. I remembered Catilina's analogy of the thunderbolts and how Cicero used them to manipulate the crowd, and I found myself looking not at Cicero but at the gleaming new statue of Jupiter, and at the credulous faces around me. 'Within the city their plan was to set the seven hills aflame — yes, with each conspirator taking charge of igniting a given area — and to massacre great numbers of citizens. Catilina was to intercept and slaughter those who fled and then unite his slave army with his loyal forces in the city.'
A wave of anger passed through the crowd, as palpable as a hot wind. Slaves and fire: these two things are dreaded most by free Romans. Both are tools to be bent to their will and to give comfort, but either may run out of control and wreak terrible havoc. For any man to turn them loose upon his fellow Romans is an act of unforgivable betrayal, and in a single breath Cicero had managed to accuse Catilina and his friends of plotting to use both.
'Next, the Allobroges were brought before the Senate. They declared that they had been made to swear an oath and been given letters from Cethegus and Lentulus, and moreover had been ordered to send cavalry across the Alps to assist in their planned uprising. Imagine an army of slaves, Gauls, and outlaws, marching on the city in flames! To secure their alliance, Lentulus had declared to them that soothsayers and the Sibylline oracles had foretold that he would be the third of the Comelii, after Cinna and Sulla, to rule over Rome — or what remained of it, for he also declared his belief that this is the year preordained for the destruction of Rome and its empire, being the tenth year after the acquittal of the Vestal Virgins and the twentieth year after the burning of the Capitol' Cicero shook his head to show his disgust with such blasphemy.
'The Allobroges also informed us of discord within the ranks of these intriguers. It seems that Lentulus, typically lazy, wanted to wait until seventeen days from now and commence their carnage under cover of the festivities of the Saturnalia — the holiday when masters trade places with their slaves. But the bloodthirsty Cethegus, insensitive to such delicate irony, was eager to begin the massacre right away.