Imperium

Soldiers!” he said to me in disgust. “What did I tell you? I would not dream of giving them orders on the battlefield. Why should they believe they know better than I about politics?”
    We climbed the hill to Pompey’s house and filed inside, leaving the muted crowd in the street. Ever since that first conference, I had been accepted as the minute-taker for the group, and when I settled into my usual place in the corner, no one gave me a second glance. The senators arranged themselves around a big table, Pompey at the head. The pride had entirely gone out of his massive frame. Slumped in his throne-like chair, he reminded me of some great beast that had been captured, shackled, baffled, and taunted in the arena by creatures smaller than himself. He was utterly defeatist and kept repeating that it was all over—the Senate would clearly never stand for his appointment, he had only the support of the dregs on the streets, Crassus’s tame tribunes would veto the bill in any case; there was nothing left for it but death or exile. Caesar took the opposite view—Pompey was still the most popular man in the republic, he should go out into Italy and begin recruiting the legions he needed, his old veterans would provide the backbone of his new army, the Senate would capitulate once he had sufficient force. “There is only one thing to do if you lose a throw of the dice: double your stake and throw again. Ignore the aristocrats, and if necessary rule through the people and the army.”
    I could see that Cicero was preparing himself to speak, and I was sure he did not favor either of these extremes. But there is as much skill in knowing how to handle a meeting of ten as there is in manipulating a gathering of hundreds. He waited until everyone had had their say, and the discussion was exhausted, before coming fresh to the fray. “As you know, Pompey,” he began, “I have had some misgivings about this undertaking from the outset. But after witnessing today’s debacle in the Senate, I have to tell you, they have vanished entirely. Now we simply have to win this fight—for your sake, for Rome’s, and for the dignity and authority of all those of us who have supported you. There can be no question of surrender. You are famously a lion on the battlefield; you cannot become a mouse in Rome.”
    “You watch your language, lawyer,” said Afranius, wagging his finger at him, but Cicero took no notice.
    “Can you conceive of what will happen if you give up now? The bill has been published. The people are clamoring for action against the pirates. If you do not assume the post, someone else will, and I can tell you who it will be: Crassus. You say yourself he has two tame tribunes. He will make sure this law goes through, only with his name written into it instead of yours. And how will you, Gabinius, be able to stop him? By vetoing your own legislation? Impossible! Do you see? We cannot abandon the battle now!”
    This was an inspired argument, for if there was one thing guaranteed to rouse Pompey to a fight, it was the prospect of Crassus stealing his glory. He drew himself up, thrust out his jaw, and glared around the table. I noticed both Afranius and Palicanus give him slight nods of encouragement. “We have scouts in the legions, Cicero,” said Pompey, “marvelous fellows, who can find a way through the most difficult terrain—marshes, mountain ranges, forests which no man has penetrated since time began. But politics beats any obstacle I have ever faced. If you can show me a route out of this mess, you will have no truer friend than I.”
    “Will you place yourself in my hands entirely?”
    “You are the scout.”
    “Very well,” said Cicero. “Gabinius, tomorrow you must summon Pompey to the rostra, to ask him to serve as supreme commander.”
    “Good,” said Pompey belligerently, clenching his massive fist. “And I shall accept.”
    “No, no,” said Cicero, “you will refuse absolutely. You will say you have done enough for Rome, that you have no ambitions left in public life, and are retiring to your estate in the country.” Pompey’s mouth fell open. “Don’t worry. I shall write the speech for you. You will leave the city tomorrow afternoon, and you will not come back. The more reluctant you seem, the more frantic the people will be for your recall. You will be our Cincinnatus, fetched from his plow to save the country from disaster. It is one of the most potent myths in politics, believe