Lustrum

mistaken,' said Cicero calmly, not even deigning to look at him. 'The jury has preserved you not for the streets ofRome but for the death cell. They don't want to keep you with us, but rather to deprive you of the chance of exile.' He resumed his speech. 'And so, gentlemen, take heart and maintain your dignity—'
    'And where's
your
dignity, Cicero?' shouted Clodius. 'You take bribes!'
    'The political consensus of honest men still holds—'
    'You took a bribe so that you could buy a house!'
    Now Cicero turned to face him. 'At least,' he said, 'I didn't buy a jury.'
    The senate rang with laughter, and I was reminded of an old lion cuffing an unruly cub. Still Clodius pressed on: 'I'll tell you why I was acquitted – because your evidence was a lie, and the jury didn't credit it.'
    'On the contrary, twenty-five members of that jury gave me credit and thirty-one gave you none – they demanded their money in advance.'
    It may not sound especially funny now, but at the time one would have thought that Cicero had made the wittiest remark in history. I suppose the senate laughed so much because they wanted to show him their support, and each time Clodius tried to respond they laughed even louder, so that in the end he gave up irritably and left the chamber. This sally was considered a great success for Cicero, especially as a couple of days later Clodius left Rome to go off to Sicily, and for the next few months he was able to put 'Little Miss Beauty' out of his mind.
    It was made clear to Pompey the Great that if he wanted to stand for a second consulship he would have to give up his hopes of a triumph and come into Rome to campaign, and this he could not bring himself to do, for much as he relished the substanceof power, he loved the show of it even more – the gaudy costumes, the blaring trumpets, the roar and stink of the wild beasts in their cages, the tramping boots and raucous cheers of his soldiers, the adulation of the crowd.
    So he abandoned the idea of becoming consul, and the date of his triumphal entry into the city was fixed, at his request, to coincide with his forty-fifth birthday, at the end of September. Such was the scale of his achievement, however, that the parade – which it was reckoned would extend for at least twenty miles – had to be spread over two whole days. Therefore it was actually on the eve of the imperator's birthday that Cicero and the rest of the senate went out to the Field of Mars to greet the conqueror formally. Not only had Pompey coloured his face red for the occasion, he had dressed himself in the most fabulous golden armour, and was wearing a magnificent cloak that had once belonged to Alexander the Great. Drawn up around him were thousands of his veterans guarding hundreds of wagons laden with booty.
    Until this point, Cicero had not really grasped the extent of Pompey's wealth. As he remarked to me: 'One million, or ten million, or a hundred million – what are these? Mere words. The imagination cannot comprehend their meaning.' But Pompey had gathered these riches all in one place, and by doing so revealed his power. For example, a skilled man at that time might work an entire day in Rome and at the end of it count himself lucky if he had earned one silver drachma. Pompey had laid out open chests on glistening display that morning which contained
seventy-five million
silver drachmae: more than the annual tax revenue of the entire Roman world. And that was just the cash. Towering over the parade, and requiring a team of four oxen to pull it, was a solid gold statue of Mithradates that was twelve feet tall. There was Mithradates's throne and his sceptre, alsogold. There were thirty-three of his crowns, made of pearl, and three golden statues of Apollo, Minerva and Mars. There was a mountain shaped like a pyramid and made of gold, with deer and lions and fruit of every variety, and a golden vine entwined all around it. There was a chequered gaming board, three feet long by four feet broad, made of precious green and blue stones, with a solid gold moon upon it weighing thirty pounds. There was a sundial made of pearls. Another five wagons were required to carry the most precious books from the royal library. It made a profound impression on Cicero, who recognised that such wealth was bound to have unforeseeable consequences for Rome and its politics. He took great delight in going over to Crassus and teasing him. 'Well, Crassus, you once had the distinction of being the