Imperium

that modest house made him bulk even larger than he did normally. “And there he is!” he exclaimed. “There is the man whom everyone comes to see!” He made straight for Cicero, threw his powerful arms around him, and embraced him in a bear hug. From where I was standing, just behind Cicero, I could see his crafty gray eyes taking in each of us in turn, and when he released his embarrassed host, he insisted on being introduced, even to me, so that I—a humble domestic slave from Arpinum—could now boast, at the age of thirty-four, that I had shaken hands with both the ruling consuls of Rome.
    He had left his bodyguards out in the street and had come into the house entirely alone, a significant mark of trust and favor. Cicero, whose manners as always were impeccable, ordered Eros to tell Terentia that Pompey the Great was downstairs, and I was instructed to pour some wine.
    “Only a little,” said Pompey, putting his large hand over the cup. “We are on our way to dinner, and shall only stay a moment. But we could not pass our neighbor without calling in to pay our respects. We have been watching your progress, Cicero, over these past few days. We have been receiving reports from our friend Glabrio. Magnificent. We drink your health.” He raised his cup, but not a drop, I noticed, touched his lips. “And now that this great enterprise is successfully behind you, we hope that we may see a little more of you, especially as I shall soon be merely a private citizen again.”
    Cicero gave a slight bow. “That would be my pleasure.”
    “The day after tomorrow, for example—how are you placed?”
    “That is the day of the opening of your games. Surely you will be occupied? Perhaps some other time—”
    “Nonsense. Come and watch the opening from our box. It will do you no harm to be seen in our company. Let the world observe our friendship,” he added grandly. “You enjoy the games, do you not?”
    Cicero hesitated, and I could see his brain working through the consequences, both of refusal and of acceptance. But really he had no choice. “I adore the games,” he said. “I can think of nothing I would rather do.”
    “Excellent.” Pompey beamed. At that moment Eros returned with a message that Terentia was lying down, unwell, and sent her apologies. “That is a pity,” said Pompey, looking slightly put out. “But let us hope there will be some future opportunity.” He handed me his untouched wine. “We must be on our way. No doubt you have much to do. Incidentally,” he said, turning on the threshold of the atrium, “have you settled on the level of the fine yet?”
    “Not yet,” replied Cicero.
    “What have they offered?”
    “One and a half million.”
    “Take it,” said Pompey. “You have covered them in shit. No need to make them eat it, too. It would be embarrassing to me personally and injurious to the stability of the state to proceed with this case further. You understand me?” He nodded in a friendly way and walked out. We heard the front door open and the commander of his bodyguard call his men to attention. The door closed. For a little while, nobody spoke.
    “What a ghastly man,” said Cicero. “Bring me another drink.”
    As I fetched the jug, I saw Lucius frowning. “What gives him the right to talk to you like that?” he asked. “He said it was a social visit.”
    “‘A social visit!’ Oh, Lucius!” Cicero laughed. “That was a visit from the rent collector.”
    “The rent collector? What rent do you owe him?” Lucius might have been a philosopher, but he was not a complete idiot. He realized then what had happened. “Oh, I understand!” A look of utter disgust came across his face, and he turned away.
    “Spare me your superiority,” said Cicero, catching his arm. “I had no choice. Marcus Metellus had just drawn the extortion court. The jury was bribed. The hearing was fixed to fail. I was this far”—Cicero measured an inch with his thumb and forefinger—“from abandoning the whole prosecution. And then Terentia said to me ‘make your speech shorter’ and I realized that was the answer—to produce every document and every witness, and do it all in ten days, and shame them—that was it, Lucius: you understand me?— shame them before the whole of Rome, so they had no alternative except to find him guilty.”
    In such a way did he speak, working all his persuasive powers on his cousin as if Lucius were a one-man jury which he needed to