Lustrum

here somewhere,' said Pompey, waving his hand vaguely, 'or down here by the river. There'll still be plenty of room. Take it away, gentlemen,' he ordered, 'take it away and start digging the foundations, and don't worry about the cost.'
    After they had gone, Cicero said, 'I don't wish to sound pessimistic, Pompey, but I fear you may have trouble over this with the censors.'
    'Why?'
    'They've always forbidden the building of a permanent theatre in Rome, on moral grounds.'
    'I've thought of that. I shall tell them I'm building a shrine to Venus. It will be incorporated into the stage somehow – these architects know what they're doing.'
    'You think the censors will believe you?'
    'Why wouldn't they?'
    'A shrine to Venus a quarter of a mile long? They might think you're taking your piety to extreme lengths.'
    But Pompey was in no mood for teasing, especially not byCicero. All at once his generous mouth shrank into a pout. His lips quivered. He was famous for his short temper, and for the first time I witnessed just how quickly he could lose it. 'This city!' he cried. 'It's so full of
little
men – just jealous
little
men! Here I am, proposing to donate to the Roman people the most marvellous building in the history of the world, and what thanks do I receive? None.
None!
' He kicked over one of the trestles. I was reminded of little Marcus in his nursery after he had been made to put away his games. 'And speaking of little men,' he said menacingly, 'why hasn't the senate given me any of the legislation I asked for? Where's the bill to ratify my settlements in the East? And the land for my veterans – what's become of that?'
    'These things take time …'
    'I thought we had an understanding: I would support you in the matter of Hybrida, and you would secure my legislation for me in the senate. Well, I've done my part. Where's yours?'
    'It is not an easy matter. I can hardly carry these bills on my own. I'm only one of six hundred senators, and unfortunately you have plenty of opponents among the rest.'
    'Who? Name them!'
    'You know who they are better than I. Celer won't forgive you for divorcing his sister. Lucullus is still resentful that you took over his command in the East. Crassus has always been your rival. Cato feels that you act like a king—'
    'Cato! Don't mention that man's name in my presence! It's entirely thanks to Cato that I have no wife!' The roar of Pompey's voice was carrying through the house, and I noticed that some of his attendants had crept up to the door and were standing watching. 'I put off raising this with you until after my triumph, in the hope that you'd have made some progress. But now I amback in Rome and I demand that I am given the respect I'm due! Do you hear me? I demand it!'
    'Of course I hear you. I should imagine the dead can hear you. And I shall endeavour to serve your interests, as your friend, as I always have.'
    'Always? Are you sure of that?'
    'Name me one occasion when I was not loyal to your interests.'
    'What about Catilina? You could have brought me home then to defend the republic.'
    'And you should thank me I didn't, for I spared you the odium of shedding Roman blood.'
    'I could have dealt with him like
that
!' Pompey snapped his fingers.
    'But only after he had murdered the entire leadership of the senate, including me. Or perhaps you would have preferred that?'
    'Of course not.'
    'Because you know that was his intention? We found weapons stored within the city for that very purpose.'
    Pompey glared at him, and this time Cicero stared him out: indeed, it was Pompey who turned away first. 'Well, I know nothing about any weapons,' he muttered. 'I can't argue with you, Cicero. I never could. You've always been too nimble-witted for me. The truth is, I'm more used to army life than politics.' He forced a smile. 'I suppose I must learn that I can no longer simply issue a command and expect the world to obey it. “Let arms to toga yield, laurels to words” – isn't that your line? “O, happy Rome, born in my consulship” – there, you see? There's another. You can tell what a student I have become of your work.'
    Pompey was not normally a man for poetry, and it was immediately clear to me that the fact that he could recite these linesfrom Cicero's consular epic – which had just started to be read all over Rome – was proof that he was dangerously jealous. Still, he somehow managed to bring himself to pat Cicero on the arm, and his courtiers exhaled with relief.