Lustrum

Catilina. Already expelled once from the senate for immorality and bankruptcy, he seemed certain to be thrown out again at the next census, and was in desperate straits.
    'Curius has been in debt as long as I've known him,' explained the lady, 'but never as badly as now. His estate is mortgaged three times over. One moment he threatens to kill us both rather than endure the disgrace of bankruptcy, the next he boasts of all the fine things he's going to buy for me. Last night I laughed at him. I said, “How could
you
afford to buy
me
anything? It's
I
who has to give money to
you
!” I provoked him. We argued. Eventually he said, “By the end of the summer we shall have all the money we need.” That was when he told me of Catilina's plans.'
    'Which are?'
    She glanced down at her lap for a moment, then straightened herself and gazed steadily at Cicero. 'To murder you, and then to seize control of Rome. To cancel all debts, confiscate the property of the rich, and divide the magistracies and priesthoods among his followers.'
    'Do you believe they mean it?'
    'I do.'
    Terentia interrupted. 'But she's left out the worst part! To bind them to him more closely, Catilina made them swear a blood oath on the body of a child. They slaughtered him like a lamb.'
    'Yes,' confessed Cicero, 'I know,' and he held up his hand to forestall her protest. 'I'm sorry. I didn't know how seriously to take it. There seemed no point in upsetting you over nothing.' To the lady he said: 'You must give up the names of all those involved in this conspiracy.'
    'No, I can't—'
    'What's said can't be unsaid. I must have their names.'
    She wept for a while. She must have known she was trapped. 'At least will you give me your word you'll protect Curius?'
    'I can't promise that. I'll see what I can do. Come, madam: the names.'
    It took her some time to speak, and when she did I could hardly hear her. 'Cornelius Cethegus,' she whispered. 'Cassius Longinus. Quintus Annius Chilo. Lentulus Sura and his freedman Umbrenus …' The names suddenly started to tumble out, as if by reciting them quickly she could shorten her ordeal. 'Autronius Paetus, Marcus Laeca, Lucius Bestia, Lucius Vargunteius—'
    'Wait!' Cicero was gazing at her in astonishment. 'Did you just say Lentulus Sura – the urban praetor – and his freedman Umbrenus?'
    '—Publius Sulla, and his brother Servius.' She stopped abruptly.
    'And that is all?'
    'Those are all the senators I've heard him mention. There are others outside the senate.'
    Cicero turned to me. 'How many is that?'
    'Ten,' I counted. 'Eleven, if you add Curius. Twelve, if you include Catilina.'
    '
Twelve senators?
' I had seldom seen Cicero more flabbergasted. He blew out his cheeks and sat back in his chair as if he had been struck. He let out a long breath. 'But men like the Sulla brothers and Sura don't even have the excuse of bankruptcy! This is just treason, plain and simple!' Suddenly he was too agitated to sit still. He jumped to his feet and started pacing the narrow floor. 'Dear gods! What's going on?'
    'You should have them arrested,' said Terentia.
    'No doubt I should. But once I started down that path, even if I could do it – which I can't – where would it end? There are these twelve, and who knows how many more dozens beside? I can certainly think of plenty of others who might be involved. There's Caesar, for a start – where does he stand in all this? He backed Catilina for the consulship last year and we know he's close to Sura – it was Sura, remember, who allowed the prosecution of Rabirius. And Crassus – what about him? I wouldn't put anything past him! And Labienus – he's Pompey's tribune – is Pompey involved?'
    Back and forth, back and forth he went.
    'They can't
all
be plotting to kill you, Cicero,' Terentia pointed out, 'otherwise you'd have been dead long ago.'
    'They may not plot together, but they all see an opportunity in chaos. Some are willing to kill to bring chaos about, and others just desire to stand back and watch chaos take hold. They are like boys with fire, and Caesar is the worst of the lot. It's a kind of madness – there's madness in the state.' He went on in this style for some time, his eyes, as it were, turned inward, his imagination aflame with prophetic visions of Rome in ruins, the Tiber red with blood, the forum strewn with hacked-off heads, which he laid out for us in graphic detail. 'I must prevent it. I have to stop it. There must be a means of stopping it