Lustrum

commitments such intimacy might arouse, he had nothing with which to fight. Strange as it may seem, the prospect of a marriage between the two had never occurred to him. Pompey was nearly forty-seven. Julia was fourteen. Only Caesar, raged Cicero, could have prostituted his child in a manner so cynical and repulsive and depraved. He railed against it for an hour or two – 'Imagine it:
him
, and
her
:
together
!' – and then, when he had calmed down, wrote a letter of congratu lations to the bride and groom. As soon as he returned to Rome, he went to see them with a gift. I carried it in for him in a sandalwood box, and after he had delivered his prepared speech about the celestial radiance of their union, I placed it in his hands.
    'Now who is in charge of receiving the presents in this household?' he asked with a smile, and he took half a step towards Pompey, who naturally reached out to take it, before Ciceroabruptly turned away and gave the box to Julia with a bow. She laughed, and so after a moment or two did Pompey, although he wagged his finger at Cicero and called him a mischievous fellow. I must say that Julia had grown up to be a most charming young woman – pretty, graceful and obviously kind, and yet the peculiar thing was that one could see her father in every line of her face and gesture of her body. It was as if all the gaiety had been sucked out of him and blown into her. And the other amazing thing was that she was very clearly in love with Pompey. She opened the box and took out Cicero's gift – it was an exquisite silver dish, if I remember rightly, with their entwined initials engraved upon it – and when she showed it to Pompey, she held his hand and stroked his cheek. He beamed and kissed her on her forehead. Cicero regarded the happy couple with the fixed smile of a dinner guest who has just swallowed something very unpleasant but does not want to reveal the fact to his hosts.
    'You must come and see us again soon,' said Julia. 'I wish to know you better. My father says you are the cleverest man in Rome.'
    'He's very gracious, but alas, I must yield that prize to him.'
    Pompey insisted on showing Cicero to the door himself. 'Isn't she delightful?'
    'Very.'
    'I tell you frankly, Cicero, I am happier with her than with any woman I have ever known. She makes me feel quite twenty years younger. Or even thirty.'
    'At this rate you will soon be in your infancy,' joked Cicero. 'Congratulations again.' We had reached the atrium – to which, I noticed, the cloak of Alexander the Great and the pearl-encrusted head of Pompey had now been banished. 'And I assume relations with your new father-in-law are equally close?'
    'Oh, Caesar's not such a bad fellow once you know how to handle him.'
    'You are entirely reconciled?'
    'We were never estranged.'
    'And what about me?' blurted out Cicero, unable to conceal his true feelings any longer. He sounded like a discarded lover. 'What am I supposed to do about this monster Clodius you two have created to torment me?'
    'My dear friend, don't worry about him for an instant! He talks a lot but it doesn't mean anything. If ever it really did come to a serious fight, he would have to step over my dead body to get at you.'
    'Really?'
    'Absolutely.'
    'Is that a firm commitment?'
    Pompey looked hurt. 'Have I ever let you down?'
    Soon afterwards the marriage bore its first fruit. Pompey rose in the senate and read out a motion: that in view of the grievous loss, etc., etc., of Metellus Celer, the province he had been allotted before his death – Further Gaul – should be transferred to Julius Caesar, who had already been granted Nearer Gaul by a vote of the people; that this unified command would henceforth make it easier to crush any future rebellions; and that in view of the unsettled nature of the region, Caesar should be given an additional legion, bringing the total strength at his disposal to five.
    Caesar, who was in the chair, asked if there were any objections. He swivelled his head left and right a couple of times, checking if anyone wished to speak, and was just about to moveon to 'any other business' when Lucullus got to his feet. The old patrician general was nearing sixty by this time – disdainful, feline, but still magnificent in his way.
    'Forgive me, Caesar,' he said, 'but will you also retain the province of Bithynia?'
    'I will.'
    'So you will now have three provinces?'
    'I will.'
    'But Bithynia is a thousand miles from Gaul!' Lucullus gave a