Imperium

slaves to the vegetable market to find out what was happening in the city they were supposedly running. Or I have known of generals, surrounded by legates and ambassadors, who have been reduced to intercepting passing shepherds to discover the latest events on the battlefield. So it was that afternoon with Cicero, who sat within twenty feet of the room in which Rome was being carved up like a cooked chicken, but who had to hear the news of what had been decided from Quintus, who had picked it up from a magistrate in the Forum, who had heard it from a Senate clerk.
    “It is bad,” said Quintus, although one could already tell that from his face. “Pompey for consul and the rights of the tribunes restored, and with no opposition to be offered by the aristocrats. But in return—listen to this— in return Hortensius and Quintus Metellus are to be consuls in the following year, with the full support of Pompey, while Lucius Metellus is to replace Verres as governor of Sicily. Finally, Crassus— Crassus! —is to rule with Pompey as joint consul, and both their armies to be dissolved on the day they take office.”
    “But I should have been in there,” said Cicero, staring with dismay at the villa. “ I should have been in there! ”
    “Marcus,” said his brother sadly, putting his hand on his shoulder, “none of them would have you.”
    Cicero looked stunned at the scale of this reversal—himself excluded, his enemies rewarded, Crassus elevated to the consulship—but then he shook his shoulder free and made angrily toward the doors. And perhaps his career might have been ended there by the sword of one of Pompey’s sentries, for I believe, in his desperation, Cicero had resolved to force his way through to the negotiating table and demand his share. But it was too late. The big men, their deal struck, were already coming out, their aides scampering ahead of them, their guards stamping to attention as they passed. Crassus emerged first, and then from the shadows Pompey, his identity obvious not only by the aura of power around him—the way the proximate air seemed almost to crackle as he moved—but also by the cast of his features. He had a broad face, wide cheekbones, and thick wavy hair that rose in a quiff, like the prow of a ship. It was a face full of weight and command, and he possessed the body to go with it, wide shoulders and a strong chest—the torso of a wrestler. I could see why, when he was younger and famed for his ruthlessness, he had been called the Butcher Boy.
    And so off they went, Baldhead and the Butcher Boy, noticeably neither talking nor even looking at each other, heading toward the gate. A stampede of senators, seeing what was happening, set off in pursuit, and we were swept along in the rush, borne out of the Villa Publica and into what felt like a solid wall of noise and heat. Twenty thousand people must have gathered on the Field of Mars that afternoon, all bellowing their approval. A narrow avenue had been cleared by the soldiers, straining arms chain-linked at the elbows, feet scrabbling in the dust to hold back the crowd. It was just wide enough for Pompey and Crassus to walk abreast, and they made slow progress toward the tribunal where the officials traditionally stand at election time. Pompey heaved himself up first, to a renewed surge of applause, which he basked in for a while, turning his wide and beaming face this way and that, like a cat in sunshine. Then he reached down and hauled Crassus up after him. At this demonstration of unity between the two notorious rivals, the crowd let out another roar, and it came again and even louder when Pompey seized hold of Crassus’s hand and raised it above his head.
    “What a sickening spectacle,” said Cicero. He had to shout into my ear to make himself heard. “The consulship demanded and conceded at the point of the sword. We are witnessing the beginning of the end of the republic, Tiro, remember my words!” I could not help reflecting, however, that if he had been in that conference, and he had helped engineer this joint ticket, he would now be hailing it as a masterpiece of statecraft.
    Pompey waved at the crowd for quiet, then began speaking in his parade-ground voice. “People of Rome, the leaders of the Senate have graciously conveyed to me the offer of a triumph, and I am pleased to accept it. They have also told me that I will be allowed to stand as a candidate for the consulship, and I am pleased to accept that as