Lustrum

fresh leaves on the trees.'
    'But don't you see? Not only does it put paid to all those groundless rumours about Postumia and Caesar, it also makes it much harder for Silanus to beat me in the consular election this summer.'
    'And why do you think that?'
    'Caesar wields a great block of populist votes. He's hardly going to throw them behind his mistress's husband, is he? Some of them might actually come to me. So with the approval of the patricians and with your support as well, I really do believe I'm home and dry.'
    'Well then, I congratulate you, and I shall be proud to pronounce you the winner in three months' time. Do we know yet how many candidates there are likely to be?'
    'Four are certain.'
    'You and Silanus, and who else?'
    'Catilina.'
    'Catilina's definitely standing, then?'
    'Oh yes. No question of it. Caesar's already let it be known he'll be backing him again.'
    'And the fourth?'
    'Licinius Murena,' said Servius, naming a former legate of Lucullus who was presently the governor of Further Gaul. 'But he's too much of a soldier to have a following in the city.'
    They dined that night under the stars. From my quarters I could hear the sighing of the sea against the rocks, and occasionally the voices of the quartet carried to me on the warm salty air, along with the pungent smell of their grilled fish. In the morning, very early, Cicero came himself to wake me. I was startled to find him sitting at the end of my narrow mattress, still wearing his clothes from the previous evening. It was barely light. He did not appear to have slept. 'Get dressed, Tiro. It's time we were moving.'
    As I pulled on my shoes, he told me what had happened. At the end of dinner, Postumia had found an excuse to speak with him alone. 'She took my arm and asked me to walk a turn with her along the terrace, and I thought for a moment I was aboutto be invited to replace Caesar in her bed, for she was a little drunk and that dress of hers was practically open to her knees. But no: it seems her feelings for Caesar have curdled from lust to the bitterest hatred, and all she wanted to do was betray him. She says Caesar and Servilia are made for one another: “Two colder-hearted creatures there never were created.” She says – and here I quote her ladyship verbatim – “Servilia wants to be a consul's wife, and Caesar likes to fuck consuls' wives, so what union could be more perfect? Don't take any notice of what my husband tells you. Caesar is going to do everything he can to make sure Silanus wins.”'
    'Is that such a bad thing?' I asked stupidly, for I was still half asleep. 'I thought you always said Silanus was dull but respectable, and so perfect for high office.'
    'I do want him to win, you dunderhead! And so do the patricians, and so it now seems does Caesar. Silanus is therefore unstoppable. The real fight is going to be for the second consulship – and that, unless we are very careful, is going to be won by Catilina.'
    'But Servius is so confident—'
    'Not confident – complacent, which is exactly what Caesar wants him to be.'
    I splashed some cold water on my face. I was at last beginning to wake up. Cicero was already halfway out of the door.
    'May I ask where we are going?' I called.
    'South,' he replied over his shoulder, 'to the Bay of Naples, to see Lucullus.'
    He left a note of explanation for Terentia and we were gone before she woke. We travelled fast in a closed carriage to avoidbeing recognised – a necessary precaution since it seemed that half the senate, weary of Rome's unusually long winter, was en route to the warm spas of Campania. We reduced the escort to make better speed and only two men guarded the consul: a great ox of a knight called Titus Sextus and his equally hefty brother, Quintus; they rode on horseback fore and aft of us.
    As the sun rose higher, the air became warmer, the sea bluer, and the aromas of mimosa blossom, and of sun-dried herbs and fragrant pines, gradually infiltrated the carriage. From time to time I would part the curtain and gaze out at the landscape, and I vowed to myself that if ever I did get that little farm I so desired, it would be down here in the south. Cicero meanwhile saw nothing. He slept throughout the entire journey and only woke towards the end of the afternoon as we jolted down the narrow lane to Misenum, where Lucullus had his – well, I was going to call it a house, but the word hardly fits that veritable palace of pleasure, the Villa Cornelia, which he had